Chapter Ten #2
‘No, if it’s okay I’ll hold the fort here, so we don’t lose our seats.’ She flashed Nyah a friendly smile. ‘Do you remember the way?’
‘Yeah, I think so.’ Nyah stood. ‘Back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.’
‘Right you are. I’ll be right here, waiting for your return.’ She reached out and gave Nyah’s hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘Make sure to say hello to my brother if you see him along the way, won’t you.’ Her grin was wickedly playful. ‘I’m sure he’ll be keeping an eye out for you.’
‘Will do.’ Nyah couldn’t help the smile that shone through her anxiety. ‘Back soon.’ Climbing carefully between people, back to the ground, she paused for a second to get her bearings and then headed left. ‘Excuse me,’ she murmured, manoeuvring past a group of loud teenagers.
Heading past the boisterous bar area and around a couple of food trucks, she passed by the holding pens filled with what she considered to be the stars of the show.
The bucking bulls’ powerful bodies were primed and ready to explode into action, and she looked forward to watching them strut their stuff.
Striding fast, she made sure to stick to the paths that were well lit, the eerie feeling of someone watching her still pressing on her skin like clammy fingers.
When she finally reached the toilets and showers, she breathed a sigh of relief at the prospect of a moment’s peace inside the masonry block building—she really needed to try and gather herself.
Pushing open the spring door, she heard its rusty hinges squeak in protest. Inside, fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the cracked linoleum floor.
The scent of industrial cleaning products lingered, along with marijuana.
A collective giggle came from the far toilet, which was likely the source of the cannabis whiff.
She shook her head—times certainly had changed with it becoming legal for medical use.
One of her horse-riding mates, Sarah Walsh, had spent years as a child without her father after he was sent to jail—a maximum-security prison at that—for growing marijuana.
As she moved towards an empty stall, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—wild curls framing intense blue eyes that were searching for any sign of danger.
She really needed to try and calm down. It was doing her no good to be wandering around on tenterhooks.
Minutes later, after freshening up at the basin, she took a deep breath then stepped back outside, turning in the direction of the grandstands, when she felt again as if someone was following her.
Instinctively she tensed and raised her hand in defence, drawing upon her years of karate training.
But when she spun around there was no one there, only the lingering echo of her own movements and a fleeting sense of fear.
Was it simply her mind playing tricks on her, or something more sinister?
The question lingered in her mind, unanswered, as she stood alone amid the faint scents of beer and sawdust.
When she found the strength to take more steps, her rapid breaths continued, the sound sharp and anxious.
She remained beneath the fluorescent lighting suspended from the awnings, feeling the light somewhat soothe her worries and the rowdiness of the bar area calm her racing heart.
Nobody could hurt her here, even if they tried.
There were too many witnesses. Surely. But perhaps if they were determined, nothing would stop them.
Her sister’s disappearance was proof of that.
With that distressing thought she scanned the sea of unfamiliar faces with newfound purpose.
As she passed by booths selling leather goods and homemade preserves under strings of twinkling lights, her eyes darted to every face that turned her way.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Every stranger’s gaze held potential menace, every shadow was a possible hiding place for her unknown pursuer.
And as she merged into the bustling crowd, with not much room to move, or run, if needed, everything seemed to tilt on its axis once again.
Amid her instincts firing back to high alert, she sensed a presence approaching, and the air shifting around her.
This time she wasn’t imagining it. Readying herself to fight her stalker off as she strode beneath the grandstands, towards the place where Hope was seated above, she raised her hands and tensed every muscle.
And it was then that Caleb stepped out from a shadowy corner where the fluorescent lights didn’t quite reach.
His police hat caught the light as he moved forward, his sharp brown eyes softened by the smile tugging at his lips.
The sight of him, so unexpectedly, sent a jolt through her.
‘Whoa there, Nyah, it’s only me.’ His voice was a mixture of amusement and surprise.
Relief washed over her as she released a nervous laugh, feeling silly for letting her imagination run wild. ‘Oh, hey there.’ Dropping her arms back to her sides, she admired him in his uniform, his towering frame dwarfing her.
‘Are you okay, Ny?’
‘Yeah, I’m good.’ Despite his intimidating appearance as a police officer, there was a protective aura about him that made her feel so safe, so secure. ‘You just nearly gave me a heart attack, sneaking up on me like that,’ she gasped, placing a hand over her chest to calm her racing heart.
Caleb raised his hands in a gesture of peace. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.’ The concern on his face deepened, making the scar above his eyebrow more pronounced. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’
Nyah took a deep breath, feeling the cool night air fill her lungs and soothe away the remnants of panic.
‘Scared doesn’t even begin to cover it,’ she admitted with a shake of her head.
‘But honestly, I’m all right. Just on edge, being here in Wildstone, I guess.
’ She exhaled slowly, allowing herself to fully relax in his presence.
Caleb nodded in understanding as his gaze filled with empathy.
‘With this big crowd, and after everything that’s happened to you in this town, it’s only natural to be cautious.
’ He took a step closer, his height and brawny build making her feel small yet comforted at the same time.
‘I promise I wasn’t trying to spook you,’ he reassured her sincerely.
‘I saw you heading my way and just wanted to check in on you, to see if you’re enjoying yourself. ’
‘Thanks, Caleb,’ she said softly, meeting his gaze. ‘I really appreciate it.’
‘Anytime, Ny, but you know that.’ His smile reached his eyes then in a genuine expression of friendship and trust. ‘Is my sister behaving?’
The change of subject was smooth and welcomed. ‘Yes, as much as she can be.’ She grinned. ‘I have no doubt she’ll have me boot-scooting my butt off later on.’
‘Ha, yes, you know her well.’ He took a breath, his gaze fixed on hers. ‘Well, I better get back to it.’
‘Okay, catch you.’ Nyah shoved her hands, aching to grab him, into her pockets.
With a final nod he turned to leave, giving her the space she needed to gather herself before facing the hullabaloo of the rodeo arena once again.
And as she watched his retreating figure, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for this instinctive protector who rode a Ducati, caught the bad guys, and yet grew his own veggie patch—a man who, despite his own heartbreaks, and despite her shortcomings, never failed to watch over her.
Never failed to keep on loving her. How could she not love him, too?
She’d be a fool to deny it. She’d always hold a special place in her heart for Caleb Hart.
When her ragged breaths slowed to a steady rhythm, she pressed her back against the cool steel of the grandstand’s underside, trying to steady herself and calm the turmoil of her mind.
But to her frustration, it was no use. Her thoughts raced faster than the pounding hooves of the horses in the warmup arena.
The moment she’d just shared with Caleb had momentarily lifted the weight from her chest, but now it was replaced by the same creeping unease that had been lingering.
Frozen to the spot, she wrapped her arms tightly around herself.
Her clothes suddenly felt suffocating and restrictive.
Even Hope’s beloved boots, which had carried her confidently through the dust and cheers just hours ago, now seemed to root her to the spot with an immobilising terror.
But she had to move. She had to get back to Hope.
However, it felt as if her feet wouldn’t budge.
She tried to brush off the unnerving feeling—the crowd, the noise and the overwhelming scents of livestock and fried food were likely the cause of her unease.
But deep down she knew it was more than that.
The prickling sensation at the back of her neck, beneath her birthmark, wasn’t just paranoia—it was an alarm bell ringing relentlessly, warning her of a presence she couldn’t see but could feel all too intensely.
The vibrant colours and loud cheers of the rodeo grounds should have filled her with excitement, but instead they only added to the pounding unease in her chest. Memories flooded her mind without invitation—Skye’s infectious laughter, her vibrant energy, and then the sudden void left in her absence.
The unresolved disappearance of her sister clawed at her insides as she found herself heading towards the grandstand steps, and the same sense of dread that had haunted her since Skye vanished crept over her skin like a suffocating shroud.
Could it be possible?
Could the person responsible for tearing their lives apart be lurking in the shadows of Wildstone’s annual rodeo?
Were they waiting to take her too?
Her heart raced at the thought, each pulse a hammer strike against the shield she’d very carefully built around herself.
She had no evidence and no confirmed sightings to confirm her suspicion, but the gut-wrenching fear gripping her was convincing enough.
It was as if, just by being back here, she’d summoned a ghost from her past, challenging the fragile peace she’d fought so hard to create amid the beauty of Far North Queensland.
Each moment of joy, each attempt at reclaiming a sense of normalcy felt overshadowed by the looming threat of this unseen stalker—if he, or she, truly was here.
Watching her. Wanting her to meet the same horrible fate as Skye possibly had.
Her heart pinched painfully. She didn’t even want to think it.
‘Skye.’ She whispered her sister’s name like a talisman against the rising panic. ‘I won’t let whoever has hurt you, hurt anyone else.’
A brief interaction caught her attention—a young boy tugging at his mother’s dress, his small hand pointing eagerly at a baby calf in the petting area. A half-smile curved her lips, just as her father’s words echoed in her mind like a guiding mantra: ‘Stay vigilant.’
A chill ran down her spine, not from the coolness of the night, but from the realisation that she was having trouble distinguishing between real danger and the ghosts of her imagination.
‘Skye,’ she breathed again, finding comfort in saying her sister’s name because it both anchored her to sorrow and propelled her forward.
The roar of the crowd signalled the beginning of the main event of bull riding, snatching her out of her spiralling thoughts.
With determination in her heart, she squared her shoulders and climbed the steps back up towards Hope.
Because here, among all these people, with Caleb on duty, and saddled up beside her childhood best friend, she felt safe.
For now. Whoever may be watching, whoever might seek to unearth the sorrows she’d buried deep within—she was ready.
Her past, her pain, her unyielding resolve, they were all woven into a tapestry of loss, grief and an unwavering hope for redemption.
There would be no retreat, no surrender.
She’d face whatever came her way, armed with the love of her family, the teachings of her father, and the spirit of her lost sister.