The Wildwood Sisters (17 page)

***

When his mobile phone rang for the third time, Dylan motioned across the rails to Stanley, letting him know he had to answer it. If this was Ralph ringing to ask him to go to the pub tonight for the darts tournament he was going to give him a friendly serve. He'd already said no about ten million times and he wasn't going to change his mind. Darts bored him to tears—unlike a good game of pool, which he was always up for. But pulling the mobile from his pocket, he noticed it was his mum—she wouldn't be calling him at work if it weren't important. His thoughts instantly went to Annie and his stomach somersaulted. He hoped to God nothing was wrong. ‘Hey Mum, what's up?'

‘Hi Dylan, sorry to ring you at work and I don't want to stress you out, but on my way home from town I spotted some of our cattle out on the road.'

‘Again! Fuck me dead, whoever's doing this has a lot to bloody answer for.'

Dylan began to pace, his grip tightening around his phone.

Claire sighed. ‘Dylan Anderson, language, but yes, they do. I just don't understand why someone would be doing this to you, to us… It's not like we have any enemies around Opals Ridge—not that I know of anyway.'

‘I know, I'm as confused as you are.' Dylan drew in a breath, and then exhaled forcefully. ‘Look, I can't do anything about it right now, Mum, and you can't get on a horse with your hip the way it is. I'll have to sort it out when I get home, and just hope the cattle don't cause a bloody accident in the meantime. Otherwise I'll be in deep shit.'

‘Dylan Anderson. Language.' Claire's tone was lighthearted.

‘Sorry, Mum. I'm just so damn tired of this.'

‘I know and I can't blame you. Look, I'll give Ralph a ring and if he's not busy I'll see if he has time to come over and round them up. And while he's doing that, I'll go for a drive and see if I can find where they've got out—Ralph might be able to do something about fixing it, even temporarily, just until you get home tonight.'

‘Yeah, good idea. Thanks Mum. Just look for where the fence has been cut. The buggers do a good job of it so you won't be able to miss it.'

‘Will do. You get back to work and I'll send you a text later letting you know how I got on, okay?'

‘Okay. Thanks, I'll give Craig Campbell a ring too, let him know the bastards have done it again. I just wish he'd hurry up and find out who's doing this to us.'

‘He'll be doing his best, Dylan. You know how diligent he is.'

‘I know, my patience is just beginning to wear very thin, that's all. This really has to stop.'

‘Yes, I couldn't agree more. We'll find out who's doing this, Dylan, I have every faith.'

‘I hope so, Mum, before they get bored with what they're doing now and maybe start doing something more serious.'

‘Try and stay positive, son. Chat later.'

The phone call now ended, Dylan bit his tongue as he walked around in circles, not wanting to lose his temper in front of Stanley. His blood was boiling and he felt like hitting something. He wished there was some way he could catch whoever it was out—or even better, if Craig could catch whoever it was and give them a damn good dose of justice. There just had to be a way.

Stanley gave him a nod, motioning towards the phone grasped in Dylan's fisted hand. ‘Everything okay?'

‘Not really, some bastard is determined to make my life a living hell by letting my cattle out and cutting my fences in the process—it's a never-ending battle to keep my stock in, and it's costing me a lot of time and money.'

Stanley nodded, scowling. ‘What a low act, messing with a farmer's livelihood. Scum of the bloody earth people are that do that. You need to go home and sort it out, lad?'

‘Nah, my mum's ringing my best mate to see if he can handle it for me. Should all be good, hopefully.'

‘You reported it to Craig down at the cop station?' Stanley poured himself a pannikin of tea from his flask, motioning to Dylan to ask if he wanted some.

‘No thanks, got my water here… Yeah I have, not that it's got me anywhere. It's really bloody frustrating.'

Stanley's brows furrowed as he shook his head. ‘Hopefully the culprits don't get away with it—the victims always seem to get the short end of the stick these days. So much for our so-called justice system. Sometimes I reckon we should go back to the good old days and sort things out without the law getting involved.'

Dylan smirked. ‘I'd have to agree.'

Leaning on the rails, Stanley shoved a piece of hay between his teeth, silent for a few moments before smiling. ‘You know what I reckon you should do?'

‘I'm open to suggestions.'

‘Go get yourself some of them spy cameras, and set them up around your place, but make sure you hide them well. You might be able to catch whoever's doing this red-handed—they won't be able to deny it when you got evidence like that.'

Dylan slapped the rail in front of him. ‘You're a genius, Stanley, thanks. I'll order some off eBay tonight.'

‘More than happy to help,' Stanley replied as he opened a gate and began drafting the cattle again. ‘And I wanna hear all about it when you catch the bugger too.'

‘You'll be one of the first I tell.'

***

After a half-hour ride through dense bushland—her belly now full and her skin fresh from her swim in the dam—Renee reached a small clearing where the little early 1900s hunter's shack had sadly been left to perish. The shack was just as she remembered it, although a little more unkempt now that she and Scarlet weren't here to give it occasional doses of TLC. The corrugated iron roof had rusted beyond repair and drooped in the middle, and the three timber walls left standing were clinging onto each adjoining slab for dear life. Sunlight filtered through the cracks of the weathered boards, illuminating the historic structure with dusty streams of light. There was no front door, or wall for that matter, the remnants of the front of the shack now decaying on the ground in front of it, leaving it completely open to the elements from the western side. The inside was unadorned, other than an ancient potbelly stove, a rickety fold-out table—which she and Scarlet had put here—and an army-style stretcher bed that Renee was sure would collapse if she even blew on it.

Renee wondered about the people that had once called the hunter's shack their home. Its untold stories would be ones of terrible hardship, but also of sheer grit and determination. History had always intrigued her.

When she stepped inside the hut, the floorboards creaked wearily beneath her weight. An unexpected rush of emotions hit her, and her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away, smiling. There were so many happy memories within this humble abode. She and Scarlet had made it their little getaway as teenagers, camping out here most weekends with their close girlfriends so they could enjoy the star-studded night sky by a bonfire. There was only one rule they had to stick to: that no boys were allowed here.

Scarlet had broken that rule quite a number of times with Billy Burton, but Renee had broken it only once, late one rainy Sunday afternoon almost six months after Scarlet had disappeared. It was here, with the rain hammering on the old tin roof, she had lost her virginity to Dylan Anderson on her seventeenth birthday. Sadly, the magic had been short-lived.

Closing her eyes, Renee tried to forget the bad stuff and instead piece together her fragmented memories of that beautiful night: Dylan's lips gently brushing her skin, his hands caressing her so tenderly, his whispers of love, their gasps of pure pleasure as they'd slowly removed each other's clothes, their shared nervous smiles as they'd pushed beyond the boundaries. They'd climbed into his swag, their bodies entwined as Dylan had kissed her for what had felt like hours, his tongue still exploring hers as he'd slowly slid inside her, the mixture of pain and pleasure sending her to places she'd never been before, and since that night, had never been again.

They'd made love all night long, only stopping to fall into a contented sleep in each other's arms for a few hours before waking to hungry kisses and touches once more. Dawn had been the only thing that could drag them from each other's arms, Renee having to head home before her pa came looking for her and Dylan wanting to get home to check in on his mum, and lucky he had because he'd found her lying on the kitchen floor unconscious after being bashed by his father.

The next afternoon, when Dylan had sought her out for comfort and to also explain what had happened, she'd accused Peter Anderson of having something to do with Scarlet's disappearance—the fact he'd bashed his wife to within an inch of her life making him a prime suspect in her eyes. Of course, Dylan had thought otherwise. Then the terrible fight had started, with both of them saying things that had broken each other's hearts. Less than twenty-four hours later she was forced by her grandparents to skip town because of the threatening note left under her windscreen. At the time she couldn't help but wonder if Dylan's father had had anything to do with the note, thinking he'd somehow found out about what she'd said to Dylan, but with rationality on her side she now knew she'd been clutching at straws.

Although they'd parted on bad terms, that beautiful night together had still left her craving for more of him, her desire for Dylan only getting stronger as time went on. The experience had been burnt into her heart, leaving a fire within her soul for him that she'd never been able to extinguish. Would she ever be able to? She hoped so. It was obvious Dylan had not forgiven her, and probably never would. And she couldn't move on in her life completely with him still alive in her heart.

The recollections almost too much to bear, Renee stepped back outside, her skin tingling as the sunlight touched her skin. The sound of running water pulled her attention behind her, to where a stand of native trees shaded a trickling creek from the worst of the afternoon sun. Beneath the dappled sunlight the water was clear and inviting.

Meandering towards the water, she took careful notice of every tree trunk, until she reached the one she was looking for. And there it was, whittled deeply into the bark, a heart-melting moment etched in time.
Dylan loves Renee,
beside a heart with an arrow carved through it. She ran her fingertips over the lettering—her own heart aching with the beautiful memory of her and Dylan as they'd carved this together. They'd been so in love back then, so hopeful of their future together.

Removing her boots, she stepped into the coolness of the water, the slow-running stream only coming up to her ankles. In the wet season, in December and January especially, it was a different story, the creek deep enough to swim in. Bending over, she cupped her hands and splashed the water onto her face, drinking some at the same time, groaning at the delightful purity of the water upon her tongue. Above the surface, dragonflies fluttered, swooping up and down while making hairpin turns at breakneck speed, their multitude of vibrant colours radiant.

Renee beamed at the sight of the prehistoric insects, marvelling that they had been around for over two hundred and fifty million years. All around her, nature was demanding her attention. Sitting in the branches of a paperbark tree, a kookaburra called out to its mate, and bright-coloured rosellas fluttered from branch to branch of the towering natives. As if straight out of a fairytale, this place was a secluded haven. If she still lived here she would make an effort to revive it.

The thought made her belly tingle with excitement. How nice would it be, to have her very own slice of heaven amongst what was already an enchanting place? It was such a contrast to her city life, but inviting all the same. She smiled dreamily.

Maybe, one day, if I made Wildwood Acres my home again, I could do the little shack up
…

She shook her head, surprised at her train of thought. This place, Wildwood Acres, her long-ago home, was growing roots within her once again. Or was it just that the seed she had buried deep down all those years ago had finally found the sunshine and the desire to spring forth from its dormant place?

On the banks of the creek, she lay back and rested her head in her hands, trying to not think any longer, but instead to enjoy the sounds of nature surrounding her—the calls of the birds, the whisper of the breeze through the leaves, the scuttle and scurry of the wildlife—and for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt at peace. She closed her eyes, the image of Scarlet's smiling face the last thing she remembered before she drifted off into nirvana.

With the sun slowly beginning to sink behind the distant Shadow Mountain, and sending a scattering of apricot and crimson hues across the horizon, Dylan worked faster, ignoring the deep ache in his back and the weariness in his bones. Dust covered his every inch and he could taste the grit in his mouth, the soft bellows of the cattle an ongoing soundtrack to his long day. He was still stewing with the fact that someone had tampered with his fencing and let his cattle out again, but at least Ralph had been able to go and sort it out for him, even taking the time to fix where the fence was cut. He didn't know what he'd do without his best mate. Dylan counted his lucky stars having him, and his mum, in his life.

Wanting to impress Stanley, he had volunteered to work through lunch, choosing to scoff a ham sandwich and scull a can of Coke while still drafting. Although he hadn't said much, he could tell that Stanley was grateful, the amount of work to complete before dusk not really leaving time for a lengthy lunch break. Allowing the last of the cattle that would be remaining on Wildwood Acres out the gates and back into the open pastures, Dylan gave Stanley a satisfied nod. The older man returned the gesture, his broad smile letting Dylan know he was happy with his efforts for the day. Relief filled Dylan. He'd strived to prove his worth, and Stanley had clearly noted it.