Page 29 of A Home Among the Snow Gums
‘I might head home, Han,’ said Vera, ‘if I can pry Kylie from whoever she’s chatting up. Better not push the no dogs rule too far. I’ll see you later.’
‘Sure. Tom?’
‘I’ll go find Bruno. The showground isn’t the easiest place for a guy in a wheelchair to move from A to B.’
‘I saw him up at the officials’ tent earlier. We can go together.’
Together? That was quick. When Hannah decided she was going to put something behind her, she didn’t muck around. If only it were that easy for him.
They found the officials clustered in front of the tower where the commentator sat to announce the progress of the events, Bruno—as predicted—front and centre. Someone had bought him a coffee and the harsh lines that had bracketed his face since the day Tom came home had softened.
‘Hannah bloody Cody,’ barked Bruno the minute he spotted them. ‘Why haven’t I seen you up at Ironbark, girl?’
‘Josh is keen to take on our equine patients, Bruno. You’re in safe hands, don’t worry. He mucks up, you let me know, and I’ll take him out the back and shoot him.’
‘Ha! And what’s all this about you getting into campdrafting? You’re too timid on the turns. Come up to the homestead one day and I’ll inspect that horse of yours and give you some pointers.’
‘Hey,’ grumbled Kev behind Tom’s shoulder, ‘that’s my student you’re poaching.’
Tom gave the old bloke a wink.
‘Mmm,’ said Hannah in a noncommittal tone.
‘Pity Ironbark’s not running its campdraft this year. We used to take real good care of our local entrants.’
‘Yes, I was sorry to hear it’d been cancelled, Bruno. End of an era.’
Bruno held out a hand and she gripped it. ‘End of a bloody legacy but never mind that. Now, promise me you’ll bring that horse up so I can see you put him through his paces.’
A stocky young man with a wide lens camera strung about his neck interrupted them. ‘Mr Krauss? Sir? I’m the social media guy for the Southern Campdrafters committee. You mind if I ask you a few questions about your glory days and get a photo?’
His dad was clearly buoyed by the request. ‘Not at all. Here, Hannah, come stand in close beside me and hide these blasted wheels of mine.’
‘I don’t think—’
Hannah’s words were drowned out by the young man, who was rabbiting on about apertures and sun from the west and how many followers the campdraft hashtag had gained on Instagram since he started adding stories about the people he met when he was covering events.
Tom stood to one side to get out of the way, his eyes on his dad’s face. He’d grown so used to the frown of disappointment it was strange to see it gone. He could almost—almost—see the shadow of the man his father had once been. Before age and illness and a timid kelpie pup had soured their relationship forever.
Thoughtful, he shifted his gaze to Hannah’s face and—oh. Furrows had dragged her eyebrows closer together. Her cheeks were pale, almost translucent, and she had the end of her messy braid of browny-red hair in her fingers, twirling it around and around and around. That’s where Bruno’s frown had gone.
A bad sign. But what was there to be annoyed by?
‘Give us a smile, sweetheart,’ said the social media guy, going into a semi-squat before Hannah and the wheelchair and looking through his viewfinder. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to tag you in my media post, too. Hannah Cody, isn’t it? I got your name from the program.’
Only, Hannah didn’t smile. Instead, she pulled her arm back, curled her hand into a fist and let fly with a punch aimed squarely at the cameraman.
CHAPTER
11
On Monday morning, when Tom headed inside The Billy Button Café for his daily quiet time—which he had no intention of giving up just because last week’s Chatter had an issue with it—he discovered his corner table wasn’t empty.
Which was odd, because Graeme had just assured him, like, three nanoseconds ago that it was.
Not only was it not empty, but it had extra chairs pulled around it for the crowd: Kev in his faded corduroy cap; Vera, twisting a napkin into anxious origami; Josh; someone with their back to him wearing navy workwear—ah, Kylie. Hannah Cody’s BFF.
Hmm. If the nerves in his spine weren’t already occupied with their own drama, they’d be on high alert.
