Walking the Line Page 4

  Back behind the chutes he went through his preparation ritual. He pulled on his protective vest and then knelt down to secure his boots with the leather straps. Standing, he grabbed his ropes and leather gloves and applied some rosin for extra grip. Then he began doing his stretches—imperative to ward off injury to his muscles and back. Ten minutes later, he was strolling towards the chutes, avoiding the buckle bunnies, while the announcer introduced the first rider and bucking bull for the evening.

  Effortlessly climbing the rails, he claimed a spot amongst the other jean-clad men as he caught the tail end of the first ride. Six seconds in and the rider was bucked off in dramatic style. Nonetheless the young bull rider landed on his feet with a smile on his face. Dallas admired the bloke’s nonchalance. The crowd erupted in cheers. A few minutes later, the second bull, T-Bone, charged out of the chutes, head low and hind legs kicking. The bull spun to the right for several seconds and when he abruptly jerked to the left the rider flew in the opposite direction, landing in a crumpled motionless heap.

  The crowd gasped and some stood. Breaths were held as everyone waited for the rider to move—it was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. The bullfighters fearlessly diverted the bull’s attention, giving the dazed rider time to gather his wits and get to his feet before the animal decided to charge. And get to his feet he did, to the raucous applause of the crowd. He then recovered his hat, gave the crowd a crooked smile and dragged his wounded pride out of the arena as the music faded and the announcer’s voice once again dominated the speakers.

  ‘And next up ladies and gentleman, we have Dallas Armstrong. As most of you would know, Dallas is following in his famous father’s footsteps, and is aiming high—his goal is to be Australian Champion just like his father was. And in my opinion, he’s certainly giving it a darn good shot. He’s rated amongst the top five bull riders on the Australian circuit at the moment, so let’s see if he can have his eight seconds of glory up here in the Far North tonight.’

  The crowd clapped and hollered and the announcer gave them a few moments before speaking once again. ‘Dallas will be riding one of Australia’s champion bulls, Tornado. And isn’t his name fitting folks? This bull knows just how to buck them off. Dallas has tangled with this brute once before, and he’s got one hell of a scar to prove it. So let’s get behind him folks and hope he shows Tornado who the boss is tonight.’

  As the spectators roared their support, a wave of adrenaline washed over Dallas. His determined gaze fell upon Tornado—the bull now in the chute and raring to go. Dallas climbed over the rails and straddled the snorting beast with his boots still positioned on either side of the rails, his full weight not yet resting on Tornado as he tried to avoid the animal’s deadly horns—he knew all too well what damage they could cause. Men surrounded him along the rails of the chute, ready to pull him to safety if the occasion arose. Dallas prayed it wouldn’t—he needed the points from this ride, and the prize money would definitely come in handy too.

  He adjusted the bull rope that was wrapped around the chest of the bull so his handhold was exactly where he wanted it as a fellow rider tugged the rope tightly upwards—the bell attached to it clanking. He rubbed his rosined glove up and down the taut rope in order to make the rosin more adhesive because every little bit helped in keeping him on. Then, with a deep breath, he slipped his gloved hand beneath the rope with his palm up and his fingers pointing towards the bull’s head and closed them tightly. He was strapped in and ready for the next ride of his life.

  Satisfied he’d completed all the necessary steps, he then settled all his weight down on Tornado’s back with practised ease and moved his body forwards so he was up against the handhold. Lifting his Akubra, he gave his shoulders and neck a roll before resettling his hat low over his eyes. A drop of sweat seemed to fall from his brow in slow motion. Tornado was already doing what he did best, shifting and snorting and trying to get him off his back by knocking up against the sides of the chute. Dallas gave the nod and the gate flew open.

  Tornado bolted into the arena and then morphed into a bucking, snorting brute. He kicked his hind legs while rotating high above the ground, and almost kissed the dust beneath them as he landed. Adrenaline pumping, Dallas kept his riding arm slightly flexed and his holding fist pushed into the bull’s back. Using his free arm for balance, he tried to keep his centre of gravity right on the middle of the bull, all the while hugging Tornado as tightly as he could with his legs and feet. For he knew if he lost his feet, he’d lose his seat, and then he could kiss the prize money goodbye while he kissed the dust beneath them.

  The seconds ticked by and the crowd stood, encouraging him on as the determined beast bucked its way across the arena. With the grace of a ballerina, Tornado twirled and twisted and changed directions, at times with all four feet completely off the ground—this bull loved his job. Dallas held on with sheer grit as the seconds felt more like minutes.

  Then the buzzer rang out, announcing he’d made the eight seconds. The announcer went berserk and the crowd roared and cheered and clapped. Dallas loosened his grip on the bull rope and then jumped off, landing on his feet with the agility and grace of a cat. The bullfighters kicked into action and fearlessly directed Tornado towards the gate that led to the holding yards.

  Elated he’d made the eight seconds, Dallas threw his hat up in the air in celebration and graced the crowd with his famous megawatt smile. There wasn’t a feeling in the world that came anywhere close to this.

  CHAPTER

  4

  This was not a good start to the day.

  ‘What do you mean you said yes, Mum?’ Dallas paced the homestead kitchen, his boots clomping on the timber floorboards. His trusty red kelpie and loyal companion of six years, Levi, sat outside on the back verandah, eagerly watching the goings-on through the screen door. The dog’s muzzle was pushed up against the mesh and his keen eyes followed his master’s every move as he tilted his head one way and then the other.

  ‘I mean, I said yes,’ Katherine Armstrong said casually as she strode from the fridge and then opened the flyscreen door while motioning for Levi to join them. ‘Come on in, sweetie.’ The dog tap-danced his way inside and then plonked himself down by the door, his tail thumping on the floor and his jowls almost grinning. From there he watched Dallas and Katherine beneath twitching eyebrows.

  Dallas leant over and gave his mate a scratch. ‘You’re one spoilt fur-kid, Levi. Mum never used to let dogs into the house until you came along. What’s makes you so special, huh?’

  ‘He’s the closest thing I have to a grandchild,’ Katherine said teasingly.

  Used to his mum’s subtle digs about wanting him to settle down and have a family, Dallas shook his head. He grabbed a mug from the cupboard. ‘I just wish you’d asked me first, seeing as I’m the one they want to interview.’

  Katherine Armstrong remained silent as she stirred milk and sugar into her coffee. Her back was to him as she stared out the kitchen window.

  Dallas bit his tongue. He was struggling to hide his anxiety—there was no way in hell he wanted a gossip journalist snooping around their hometown and their lives. What if Vivien Hiller made herself known, which was well on the cards, knowing her? His mother knew nothing of what he’d overheard that fateful day, and that was the way he wanted it to stay. It would do nothing but cause her more heartache if she knew what his father had been doing behind her back all these years. Besides, Grenfell was a small town; he didn’t want either of them to have to put up with the whispers and gossip if this secret got out.

  He joined his mum at the bench and grabbed a heaped teaspoon of coffee from the jar. ‘So do I have any say in this?’

  ‘Of course you do.’

  ‘It doesn’t really feel like I do.’

  Katherine sighed weightily.

  Dallas’s heart squeezed.

  The house phone rang and Katherine grabbed it from the bench, her frown fading when she heard the voice at the other end. ‘Oh hi sis, ho
w’s things there?’

  ‘Say hi to Aunt Kelly for me,’ he whispered as he scooped two sugars into his cup. Katherine nodded.

  He wished he could tell his mum why he didn’t want to do this, so she understood he wasn’t just being difficult. He’d made the final decision to keep it to himself at the funeral, when Vivien Hiller had shockingly shown up uninvited. The woman had singled him out, threatening to reveal his father’s secret unless he paid. She’d been shocked to find out he already knew, and even more disturbed when he’d told her he had no money to give her, so blackmailing him was fruitless—she was trying to get blood from a stone.

  How she could do what she was doing, not only to him and his family but also to someone she supposedly loved, was beyond him. Thankfully, his mother was so distraught and there’d been such a massive turn out that Vivien had gone unnoticed. She had nearly sent him into a fit of rage in the middle of his father’s wake, but he’d gritted his teeth and calmly asked her to leave.

  He hadn’t seen her since, and he hoped that meant she’d finally found a conscience. The last words she’d uttered to him were that she’d get her dues, but she was fooling herself if she believed she was going to ever get a cent—he honestly had no money to give. Funny how people gathered because you owned a property, you had money, but that certainly wasn’t the case. He just prayed to God Vivien didn’t approach his mother.

  Dallas overheard his mum saying goodbye to Aunt Kelly. ‘Gee whizz, that was quick for you two. You usually gabble on like a pair of old chooks for hours.’

  ‘Yes, well, I told her I’d call her back later on. You and I need to finish our conversation first.’

  ‘Is there anything left to say, Mum? It sounds like you’ve already made the final decision, no matter how I feel about it.’

  Katherine turned and strolled from the sink, her stern gaze warning Dallas not to challenge her decision. She sat back down in her chair at the dining table and then tucked her long wavy hair behind her ears, sighing wearily. ‘I’m sorry, but you weren’t here to ask and I couldn’t say no, especially not with the financial state we’re in. And I’m sorry but I’m not changing my mind. I gave Jasper Oliver my word that you would do the interview, and you know better than anyone that when I give my word, I don’t go back on it.’

  With the morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen window now bathing the dining table in golden light, Dallas noted how his mum’s grey hairs were beginning to overshadow her brown, and how tired her eyes looked. His heart squeezed tight. His father’s sudden death had taken a toll on them both. The past eight months had been the toughest of their lives, and he worried that his mother couldn’t take much more. He tried to soften his tone. ‘Why the rush, mum? Couldn’t you have called me on my mobile, or waited until I got home from Mareeba to talk to me about it?’

  ‘I tried calling your mobile, several times, but it kept going straight to message bank and I was afraid if I didn’t give this Jasper bloke an answer he’d have a change of heart. He offered a substantial amount for the interview, Dallas, and I don’t need to be telling you that times are bloody hard at the moment. The money will come in handy.’

  Dallas’s gaze softened as he leant against the bench and sighed, steaming cuppa now in hand. ‘How much is substantial, Mum?’

  ‘Twenty thousand dollars.’

  Dallas almost spat out his mouthful of coffee. He swallowed down hard. ‘Holy shit.’

  Katherine smiled. ‘My sentiments exactly.’

  All the things that needed doing around the place flashed through Dallas’s mind—the loss of his father’s trucking wages had put a huge strain on Rollingstone Ridge. The winnings from Dallas’s bull riding were helping, but they still weren’t enough. Twenty thousand dollars was a massive amount; they could improve the fencing, buy better feed for the stock and do some much-needed repairs on the machinery.

  As much as he hated the thought of his father’s secret getting out, he was hopeful he’d be able to keep it hidden, whatever the journalist’s questions turned out to be. Like his bull riding, he had to take the risk. He knew his mum wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and they really did need the money. He heaved a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘All right then, I’ll do it. I just hope I don’t stuff it up. You know how much I hate being in the spotlight.’

  ‘You’ll be fine. It’s nowhere near as tough as being in the centre ring on the back of a one-tonne bull. And you’re pretty tough when it comes to that—just like your father was.’ Katherine smiled before taking a bite of her lemon-butter smothered toast.

  Dallas shrugged. ‘Yes and no.’

  ‘Well, like anything in life, all you can do is give it your best.’ She grinned. ‘But that’s not the only thing they offered. I’ve saved the best for last.’

  ‘What could be better than twenty thousand dollars?’

  Katherine drew in a deep breath. ‘They’ve offered to put your calendar in the Christmas edition of The Insider and give a dollar from every copy sold to Drought Aid.’ She clapped her hands together in delight.

  Dallas’s shocked expression drew laughter from Katherine. He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Wow, talk about one hell of a way to get the calendar out there. That’s going to raise a heap of money for drought stricken farmers.’

  Katherine nodded eagerly. ‘It sure is.’

  Dallas couldn’t stop himself from grinning. ‘The boys are going to be over the moon.’

  ‘I wish I could see their faces when you tell them their bods are going to be on show in a well-known national newspaper.’ She popped her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. ‘I’m so sorry to spring this all on you, but I made the best decision I could at the time.’

  ‘Oh Mum, don’t apologise; you’re completely right. We do need this. And to be able to give back to Drought Aid after they helped us out a few years back would mean the world. I’m sorry I’m being such an arse about it.’ Dallas did his best to be more upbeat as a mixture of emotions swirled inside of him. He was chuffed with the news of the calendar and twenty thousand dollars but still concerned about someone snooping around their lives. ‘So when does this journalist get here?’

  ‘She gets here Monday.’

  His eyebrows shot up. ‘She?’

  Katherine’s lips curled into a wisp of a smile. ‘Yes, it’s a she.’

  ‘A city chick is coming out to the sticks to do an article on country life? This is going to be a barrel of laughs.’ Dallas rolled his eyes and groaned. ‘And where is she staying?’

  ‘The lady’s name is Charlize Dawson and she will be staying in the guest room along with her dog, Bruce.’

  ‘The guest room in our house?’

  ‘No, in the neighbours’ house.’ Katherine laughed playfully. ‘Of course in our house.’

  ‘For an entire week? Far out, I’m going to feel like I’m being analysed and dissected constantly.’

  ‘Well, where else do you suggest I put her, Dallas?’ Her toast now finished, Katherine licked the lemony goodness from her fingertips. She stood and gathered her now empty plate and half-finished coffee.

  ‘At the hotel in town.’

  ‘The hotel is fully booked with a wedding, and they wouldn’t allow a dog there either.’

  ‘Well, maybe we could pitch a tent for her out the backyard.’

  ‘Dallas Armstrong, that’s not hospitable at all. I didn’t raise you to be like that.’ Katherine tutted and playfully rolled her eyes.

  ‘Oh lordy, this is going be so much fun. What kind of person calls their dog Bruce, anyway?’

  Katherine chuckled as she shook her head. ‘I know, right? But each to their own.’

  ‘What sort of dog is it?’

  ‘Bruce is a miniature pug, which is why I don’t mind her bringing him along. It’s not like he’s going to be getting in the way too much, or dropping too much dog hair around the house—there’s not enough of him. I think our biggest problem will be trying not to step on th
e little bugger.’

  ‘Oh my god …’ Dallas was in hysterics. ‘Bruce the miniature pug from the big smoke, hey? I like the sound of him already. I’m guessing he’s going to be a right character. Although you better make sure he stays in the house, because I reckon he’ll end up getting lost, or—God help us—hurt out in the big wide yonder.’

  ‘I’ll make sure to keep my eye on him.’ She bent over and gave Levi a scratch on the head, talking to her canine mate as she did. ‘And are you going to be nice to Bruce?’

  Levi barked a reply and wagged his tail.

  Katherine straightened up and smiled, her hand going to the small of her back. ‘I’m taking that as a yes.’

  ‘Your back still crook, Mum?’

  ‘Oh, not really, it just niggles sometimes, that’s all.’

  ‘You really should shout yourself a massage in town.’

  Katherine shooed the air. ‘Nah, I’m right. I don’t want to go wasting money on unnecessary things.’

  Dallas gave her a stern sideways glance as he got to washing up the breakfast dishes. ‘Looking after yourself is not an unnecessary thing.’ He wished they didn’t have to worry about money so much. Winning the championship would certainly change that.

  Katherine smiled towards him as she rested back against the kitchen bench and folded her arms. ‘I promise I’ll have myself a nice Radox bath tonight. That always helps.’

  ‘Good. You need to relax a bit more, Mum.’ Dallas motioned out the kitchen window with a sudsy finger to the granny flat in the corner of the backyard. ‘Have you told Gramps about our two new houseguests yet?’