Page 100 of A Home Among the Snow Gums
‘Nope.’
Hannah frowned at her toenails poking up through the suds at the far end of the bathtub. Chipped nail polish and riding boot blisters … it was quite a look. ‘Did Tom ring you to ask me to help him?’
‘He rang me for help. I’m in Sydney, therefore you are the one who must help. Follow the dots, Hannah.’
‘You don’t understand.’
‘Funny, that’s what he said. I’ll tell you what I told him: Codys help their friends when they’re in trouble. You going to make a liar of me, Hannah, just because you’re in a snit?’
A snit? She’d had her freakingheartbroken. ‘Josh Cody, if you weren’t five hours’ drive away, you wouldn’t dare say that to me.’
He chuckled. ‘Come on, Han. Can you get off your high horse? I know there’s some stuff happening between the two of you, and never feel you have to tell me the icky details, but if Bruno needs another bottle of oxygen before this storm burns itself out, he’s going to be in deep trouble.’
Why did Josh always have to be right, darn it?
She pulled the lowered blind away from the window. Rain threw itself at the glass and the black branches of the snow gum were thrashing about like airborne spaghetti. ‘The storm’s certainly wild. It’ll be wilder still up the mountain.’
‘You call Kev’s mate Lionel and see if he’ll drive you and Skipjack out in the float to where the sealed road’s gone under. It’s twenty minutes up the trail from the crossing in good conditions. Better get Lionel to wait for you in case you have to turn around. I’ll call Meg King and see if she can get a weather report off the SES.’
Hannah sighed and gazed at the paperback and glass of wine she had sitting on a stool next to the bath, the tealight candles she’d lit on the counter. ‘I suppose I’d better get out of the bath, then.’
‘Up and at ’em, Hannah Banana. Keep your phone clear so I can call you back.’
Her brother had done a lot better than call her back. Hannah looked through the windscreen of Lionel’s truck to the lights-ablaze police cruiser heading up the mountain ahead of them. The sergeant had come through with an escort, a police-issue hi-vis waterproof jacket for Hannah and handheld radios because there’d been no calls in or out of Ironbark Station since Josh had spoken to Tom an hour ago.
‘Phone tower on the ridge back off Gorge Road is down,’ said the sergeant, when they pulled over at the start of the bridle trail. ‘None of our phones will be working out here until it’s back up, and emergency services will be waiting for this storm to blow through before they send a team up there. This handheld radio will keep you connected to me for a while, but the range will be rubbish once you get into the treeline.’
‘Okay, I’ll—’
‘I’m not done. The oxygen tank weighs in about five kilos. It’s too long for a backpack, but the dispatch officer at the Ambulance Depot suggested you lash it to your saddle like a blanket roll.’
Hannah eyed the silver steel tube. ‘Sure, that’ll work.’
‘I’ll do that,’ said Lionel. ‘I’ll saddle up Skip in the float and tie this down. Best keep the lad in the warm until you’re done planning.’
The sergeant nodded. ‘Here’s three flares. You ever lit one?’
‘No.’
‘Unscrew the cap. See this trigger? Haul it down, hold the flare away from your face. Aim for a clear patch of ground so the light clears the treeline. You get in trouble, you fire one. Do not move more than a yard from the trail. No matter what. You go off piste, we won’t find you quickly, and it’s cold enough to freeze a bunyip up here.’
Hannah stuffed the flares into the oversized pockets of the anorak. Her fingers were starting to numb with cold, despite the leather gloves she wore. ‘Got it.’
‘Lionel and I will stay here until you let us know you’ve cleared the treeline and reached the homestead. When you’re there, you fire the red flare, got it? Red for Romeo. That means you’re safe and we can go home to our beds.’
‘Red for Romeo when I’m safe at the homestead, got it. Thank you, Meg.’
The sergeant looked out into the blackness, where giant trees were groaning under the wind. They could all hear the cracks of splitting timber. ‘We’ve got the easy job. Make this a quick twenty-minute joyride, will you? There’ll be trees coming down up there. Branches big as logs. You got a helmet?’
‘Yeah.’ A clatter of hooves against steel told her Lionel was done saddling up. Hannah held the walkie-talkie to her mouth and depressed the button. ‘Hannah to sergeant.’
An answering crackle came from the unit clipped to Meg’s jacket.
‘Okay then,’ Meg said. ‘Looks like we’re ready.’
Skipjack put the brakes on when Lionel tried to lead him off the ramp onto the snow-covered blacktop, but an assurance that he was the handsomest, bravest horse in all the world lured him on. Hannah shoved her boot in his stirrup and swung herself into the saddle the second he cleared the ramp. Freezing conditions in the middle of the night—up a mountain—were no good for a horse; he’d need to keep moving.
‘Here,’ said Meg. ‘Take this.’
