Race Girl (46 page)

‘I know, I'm so sorry, Bucko,' she pleaded, taking another step towards him.

‘You might think you know these people, Tully,' he growled, raising his elbow to urge her back. ‘But you don't!'

Fia let out a sob and reached for Tully.

‘You don't know how they use and discard people; how they abuse them,' Bucko said, his eyes flicking between her and Pearce. ‘My mother was ruined; he left us with nothing. She gave everything to him – quit her job bar-tending to live in his house and take care of him after his father died. He kept my mother there like his dirty little secret, then how does the great Pearce Weston re-pay her loyalty?'

‘I'm sure—' Tully said trying to put some distance between them, but Bucko kept coming. ‘By casting her out, three months pregnant – then moving in the first blonde with pedigree he could hunt down, setting her up with everything and having
another
son. A son he would recognise as his own. My mother and I were
his
wastage. But the world is finally going to know – I
am
his son.
I
am a Weston.'

38

Baling Twine and a Plea for Righteousness

Tully clung to Fia, tears rolling down her cheeks as she listened to Bucko's story unfolding, the shock of his words and disturbing change in this man she'd known most of her life shaking her to the core.

‘She told me on my sixteenth birthday,' Bucko said, his mouth twisting around every word as if he was spitting out stones; his eyes darting around the room, widening with madness. ‘Just after she'd been diagnosed with breast cancer. She said Pearce Weston was my father, but he didn't want to know us. So I started to do some research, found out who he was, what he was involved in. Got a job as a stable hand, worked my way around, then applied to your father, to Avalon. The perfect place to keep watch, to bide my time.

‘He didn't even notice when the colt went missing. I stashed him at a mate's out in central Queensland, and it didn't even hitch his stride. Collected the insurance money, and moved right along. Just like he does with everything – it's all disposable to him. We're all disposable . . .' Bucko laughed, and the sound chilled Tully to the bone. ‘Well, I couldn't watch anymore. And now's the perfect time to dispose of him.'

The stall door eased open and Brandon stalked in, hands outstretched, wide shoulders dipped in surrender and caution. ‘I just want to take the girls out, Buckley,' he said, his eyes meeting Tully's.

All she could do was stare into his wide, long-lashed, passionate brown eyes, until the sound of Pearce letting out a bellow of pain sent shock waves through her.

‘
NO!
' Brandon lunged for him, but Bucko kept his hold on Pearce, the blade meeting skin, a trickle of blood running down over cleanly shaven skin.

‘Any closer and I'll do it,
Baby
Brother,' Bucko said, nudging Pearce down into the corner of the stall. ‘And hands off Tully. Don't think for a second either of you is going anywhere—' He laughed suddenly, his spare hand flinging up in an unsettlingly violent gesture. ‘This really couldn't have worked out any better, could it? First I'll dispose of Dad,
and
I'll get Baby Weston as a bonus!'

Fear rocked Tully and she cried out, rushing to Brandon's side. He put an arm around her, all the while keeping a watchful eye on Bucko, and she pushed her face against the wet wool of his jumper, soaking in his heat. Lifting her head after a few seconds, she noticed a figure in the open doorway. Making sure not to be obvious, she snuck another look, and yes, it was Richard, hovering outside the stall, eyes wide, a mobile clutched in his hands.

‘Don't you even think about it,' Bucko said over his shoulder. ‘Actually, no—why don't you go and make sure that guard stays busy, hey? He comes in, and Daddy here is dead.'

‘
Please
, Bucko,' Tully said. ‘Please, stop! You're not like this!'

‘You don't know evil until it's done to you, Tully.' He shook his head at his father. ‘Karma's been a long time coming to these guys.'

‘Brandon's not
like
his dad!' she protested, pulling herself from Brandon's encircling arm to move in front of him, shielding him from Bucko.

‘We
all
are like our parents! You can't fight it . . .' Bucko spun to raise his knife at Brandon, but as he moved, Pearce seized his opportunity. Rising up behind him, he leapt, bringing him to the ground. The men grunted and wrestled, stirring dust up from the shavings.

Dahlia squealed and broke free from Fia's arms, lunging forward, one of her hooves catching the edge of Pearce's leg, slicing through flesh to the bone.

Pearce cried out, but maintained his grip on Bucko, pinning him against the back wall. The knife sailed into the air, hit the wall with a sharp clatter, before dropping into the deep bedding. Pearce kicked it away, pinned the smaller man's arms in a bear hug. ‘Go get something to bind him, Brandon!'

Fia and Brandon darted from the stall. Tully's heart hit overdrive, trying to restrain Dahlia, who was, by now, thoroughly unsettled.

Moments later Brandon raced back in with a few loops of baling twine, Fia with a halter. Tully threw the halter over Dahlia's head, doing her best to keep the plunging mare from trampling the struggling men.

‘Get her out of here, Aunt Fia!' Tully said, her voice low but urgent. She helped to get Dahlia out of the stall and into the safety of the barn aisle, before rushing back inside to help Brandon. The sound of Bucko's desperate, broken wails struck straight to her heart as Tully watched Brandon and his father tie Bucko's hands and feet. She found herself stammering out a string of apologies, over and over, for the heartbreak he'd been through, for the tragedy of his life.

Richard jogged back to them, the out-of-breath guard in tow. They halted at the edge of the stall, the guard speaking quickly into his walkie-talkie. Richard chucked Pearce a glove and a roll of duct tape – he shoved the glove into Bucko's mouth, ran a strand of the silver tape over it and around his head.

The chill of the storm and the utter shock of the morning's events began to settle over Tully as the adrenaline wore off and she found her whole body shaking uncontrollably. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jumper to stop their trembling, her eyes fixed to Bucko's wide, confused, unfocused eyes.

Brandon wrapped an arm around Tully, pulling her against his chest. She finally let go, sobbing hard into his shoulder as he led her to the office where Fia was making them all hot chocolates – waiting for the police to arrive.

Detectives hung around, questioning them all individually after taking Bucko into custody. A kind female detective slipped Tully her card before ushering them out to her police car – Tully was needed to identify and collect the briefcase and belongings her father had been carrying when his plane went down. Tully made sure Dahlia was being taken care of by one of Richard's nicer girls before she left, glad to see the horse happily munching her way through a bag of apples.

The detective told Tully on the way into the station that the crash had also claimed the life of the pilot and owner of the small plane, a mate of her father's from high school. The grief and guilt hit Tully all over again as she accepted the final legacy of her parents, Brandon holding her as she sobbed her heart out.

Tully made sure to tell the detectives every detail she could remember of their shocking morning, and to include the fact Bucko had been kind to her for all the years she'd known him. He'd been pushed to breaking point and the fact he'd finally snapped and let Pearce beat him plagued Tully's heart the most. It didn't seem fair.

Brandon stayed at Fia's with her that night, all three of them drifting around the apartment in a daze. The image of Bucko's face, of his unhinged eyes, of the blade of his knife – all haunted Tully when she tried to sleep.

She woke screaming before dawn and Brandon held her, tears rolling down his cheeks. Tully felt his pain and was instantly ashamed for not thinking more of him – he'd discovered he had a brother, that all this time he had a big brother when he'd always felt he had no one. A brother who'd tried to kill him.

They all got moving before dawn the next day. Fia was convinced it was the only way to deal with things, and she emphasised to Tully and Brandon they weren't to answer their phones for the next few days as the story was sure to hit the media and none of them needed to be pulled into the circus that would ensue.

Fia had matters at her own barn to deal with, but Brandon and Tully headed to Barn One to see Dahlia.

Trinity met them at Dahlia's stall, explained that Pearce had been answering a steady stream of questions for detectives as well as being in and out of hospital having the wounds to his neck and leg dealt with. ‘We've had to put two more guards on to keep the journos at bay,' she said. ‘I'm surprised you guys made it in.'

‘Brandon came prepared,' Tully said, pulling the beanies and black sunnies from her pocket. ‘Bundled us around the back entrance; they didn't even see us.'

Trinity smiled. ‘If only your mare was so adaptable,' she said, her grey eyes turning to Dahlia, concern wrinkling across her forehead. ‘She runs the Cup in just four days, and she won't let the bloody jockey anywhere near her.'

‘What?' Tully said, squaring her shoulders. ‘Has he arrived, has he?'

‘He got here just before yesterday's
incident
, as Pearce is calling it. We tried to mount him up, but she pulled him off her back, then ripped the jockey pad off with her teeth and trampled it to death.'

Tully couldn't contain a giggle. She peered into her mare's stall. Dahlia looked up from her feed bucket, her ears pricked forward. ‘Cheeky girl,' Tully said, a smiling. ‘Well, what does Pearce plan to do?'

‘He was gonna have the best jockey in the world ride the best horse in Australia,' Trinity said. ‘But this Aussie girl won't have a bar of the Frenchman, and the clock is ticking.'

‘I know exactly what he's going to do,' Brandon said, nodding at Trinity before taking Tully by the arm. ‘You're ready to ride the Cup, aren't you, Athens?'

‘
What?
' Tully stammered as Brandon dragged her away from her mare. ‘Your dad will never let me!'

‘Like hell he won't.'

She had to jog to keep up as Brandon marched through the rows of barns towards the officials' buildings and main offices of Flemington. He stopped just after they'd past the Headquarters Tavern, took her hand in his. ‘I'm so sorry I snapped about bloody Zack and everything, Tull,' he said, glancing back at her before pulling her along gently. ‘I just missed you – this whole thing has been driving me mental. But there's no way
he's
gonna keep me away from you anymore. I'm sure after everything that happened yesterday, Dad will have a change of heart. You
deserve
to ride this race.' His eyes lit with surprise, then happiness and he noticed the silver horseshoe necklace he'd given Tully for her sweet sixteen. ‘Nice to see you're still wearing it,' he said, a finger teasing it out from under her shirt.

‘Of course,' Tully said with a teasing grin, relieved by the light change in mood. ‘Always. It's the only piece of jewellery I own—they'd
really
call me a tomboy without it.'

‘Tomboy looks good on you. Although, I reckon you're a bit of both.'

She raised her eyebrows.

‘Tomboy, and girly girl,' he explained. ‘Best kinda chick, I reckon. And I
am
sorry, so sorry, Tulls. Nothing will ever keep us apart again.'

‘It's all good, Brandon,' she smiled, ‘I seem to be able to forgive easily, or to forgive you, anyway. I guess it's like my fatal flaw.'

‘No way,' he grinned, ‘Forgiveness, that's a real strength.' He kissed her deeply, before they slipped their beanies and glasses on, heading towards the main building where a large contingent of media and other jockeys and trainers had gathered. By the look of the banners and logo-laden backdrop with the table and chairs set up in front of them, there would be a pre-event media conference, which would no doubt focus on the ‘hostage situation' that had gone down in one of the country's top stables the day before.