Long Way Home: Hearts of the Outback, #3

By Susanne Bellamy

The first time they met Detective Caleb Richards snapped handcuffs on Sarah Tait and she vowed never to forgive him. But when he seeks her help to find a kidnapped thoroughbred stallion she becomes his unwilling assistant.
Sarah sets out on a marathon endurance ride. As Caleb tags along, he realises that the horse whisperer has deeper secrets than he'd ever suspected.
Can he uncover Sarah's secrets and win her trust?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susanne Bellamy
• Release date: Jun 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201499044

Susanne Bellamy

Born and raised in Toowoomba, Susanne is an Australian author of contemporary and rural romances set in Australia and exotic locations. She adores travel with her husband, both at home and overseas, and weaves stories around the settings and people she encounters. Her Outback series, Hearts of the Outback, and Second Chance Love, one of the Bindarra Creek series with other authors, were inspired by her time teaching in far north-west Queensland. Her heroes have to be pretty special to live up to her real life hero. He saved her life then married her. They live on the edge of the Range with their German Shepherd, Freya. In another life, Susanne was a senior English and Drama teacher with a passion for Shakespeare and creative writing, but now her two children have flown the coop, she writes full time. Susanne is a member of the RWA (Romance Writers of Australia) and won third place in their 2011 Emerald Award. She placed third in the Pan Macmillan short story competition with Chez Romeo. A hybrid author, she is published with Mira, and Harlequin Escape, as well as being self published. A popular guest speaker, she presented the keynote address at the Steele Rudd Pilgrimage, and was a guest speaker for the Dynamic Life Speakers Series for U3A, and has been invited to speak in libraries, at book clubs, and to community groups. To find out more, visit Susanne on her website.   You can also follow Susanne on Facebook, Twitter, Youtube and Pinterest.   

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Susanne Bellamy

Copyright © 2016 Susanne Bellamy

All rights reserved.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to Layla, our special little princess.

Acknowledgments

With grateful thanks to Sandy Vaile for information about endurance riding. Any errors are mine.

Chapter One

Hey! Smile this way, love.

Camera flashes blinded Sarah Tait and she gripped the reins as Tabitha, her bay mare, tossed her head in protest. Once upon a time, Sarah would have been grateful for the attention of a forest of cameras but now, most media interest was less about her charity ride and more about her notorious family. At least there were only a few well-wishers today, unlike the mob outside the court house several months ago.

Brent Wilson, the local television reporter tapped her on the shoulder and raised a microphone under her chin. Quick couple of questions for the news, Sarah. Brent was a friend of her younger brother, Josh, though neither he nor Reece, the youngest of the Tait siblings, were here to support her. None of the family had left the property since the trials of their father and older brother, except Sarah’s mother who was now licking her wounds in Adelaide.

Sure, Brent. Sarah swallowed the desire to mount her horse and gallop hell for leather into the red dirt landscape north of Mt. Isa. Claustrophobia aside, she’d promised Enabling Riders she’d participate in promoting her endurance ride and positive publicity had been thin on the ground.

Brent nodded to his cameraman and raised the microphone to his mouth. Ms. Tait. Who will benefit from donations raised by your endurance ride?

All monies raised go towards establishing a riding school for young people facing a range of physical and mental disabilities. Funds are administered by the charity—

Behind her, a woman’s voice interrupted her explanation. That’s her. Father and brother went to prison a few months back for major crimes.  Sarah ignored her and prayed the microphone wasn't picking up the salacious details of her family’s criminal history. She lifted her chin and stretched her lips, hoping she presented a smile and not a grimace.

Refusing to acknowledge the snide remarks by so much as a glance, Sarah thanked Brent and patted Tabitha’s neck. Five more minutes until the region's mayor declared the ride underway. Three hundred seconds and counting down. She could do it.

I can. I must.

Sarah turned to check Tabitha’s girth strap for the umpteenth time, pressing her cheek against the warm body and breathing in the horsey smell of her four-legged friend. As she fiddled with the strap, a pair of dusty boots beneath denim-clad legs stopped beside her. Wanting to be left alone, to escape onto the long, solo ride, she took her time adjusting the buckle into the same hole before standing.

The boots didn’t move.

Her gaze travelled up long, masculine legs, past slim hips, an Eagles’ T-shirt beneath an unbuttoned navy blue shirt, and snagged on a pair of shoulders and chest she recognised all too well. She raised her eyes to meet the perceptive brown-eyed gaze of—

Caleb Richards.

The man who had thrown her in the dirt and stuck his great big knee on her back. Handcuffed and choking on dust, she had futilely beaten his chest. Hard.  As Sarah remembered that day bile rose in her throat and now the police presence loomed over her current effort to link her family name with something good and positive and worthy.

"What do you want?" She could barely enunciate the words.

Detective Senior Sergeant Caleb Richards tipped his Akubra up with his thumb and patted Tabitha’s neck. She looks good. How far do you plan to ride today?

None of your business. Go away. Unless you plan to arrest me again? What could it be this time? Riding under the influence? Snapping at the police officer was stupid but better than the physical response welling within her. She turned her back on him and patted Tabitha.

Arresting you was fair given the circumstances. Caleb crossed his arms over his chest and glanced over his shoulder before his dark brown gaze returned to her face. It was one of my more—memorable arrests. A hint of laughter threaded through his voice, underlining the barest of pauses.

Memorable? She'd give him memorable and a damned sight more.

Clenching Tabitha's reins tightly, Sarah fought the desire to thump 'DH' Richards again. Notoriety for assaulting a police officer wouldn't make the charity happy. One day though, she vowed to wipe that smug grin off his face.

Tabitha tossed her head and stamped her hoof. A puff of red dust rose, settling in a thin layer over Sarah’s boots. The horse nuzzled Sarah’s hand on the reins and huffed out a breath.

Turning her back on the detective Sarah stroked the mare’s neck. Hush, beautiful, the nasty man will go away soon.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Caleb’s grinning face. Would he ever let her forget that terrible day? Damn the man for enjoying her discomfort. And damn her for wasting time on him. I told you I was bringing the baby out but you handcuffed me. And now you’re harassing me. If you’re not going to arrest me then get out of my life, Richards. I’ve got a ride to undertake.

Glancing past his broad shoulders, she spotted two middle-aged women keenly observing the exchange. They shuffled a half pace closer, their faces turned towards one another. Probably the same ones who had shared the scandalous snippets behind her back.

Caleb barely turned his head but he slid his hand along the saddle and his voice lowered as he moved into her personal space. I’ll be parked ten kilometres out of town behind the baobab tree. Meet me there.

Confused and taken aback, she curbed the desire to poke his chest and laugh in his face, and lowered her voice. The old biddies wouldn’t get anything from her. Thanks for the warning. I’ll be sure to give the tree, and you, a wide berth.

I need to talk to you. Don’t fight me on this, Sarah.

Seems I’ve been too subtle, detective. Let me put it into words even you can’t misunderstand. She tugged Tabitha’s reins. Piss. Off. Now."

His tanned hand shot out, warm as it covered hers and Sarah gripped the reins tightly.

Glaring at his hand had no effect. She lifted her gaze and opened her mouth to tell him where to go but he was quicker.

Sarah, please. Meet me. I need your help.

##

For the life of her, Sarah couldn’t think of a single reason why Detective Caleb—DH—Richards would want to speak to her. Alone.

Astride Tabitha and walking at a leisurely pace north beside the main highway out of Mt. Isa, Sarah mulled over recent events. How quickly her family name had turned to mud.

Her testimony had sealed Granger’s guilt. Stupid, stupid big brother.

Her father’s crime had been committed while she was away in the Territory working with brumbies on a remote station. She hadn’t even heard the news until she’d walked into the chaos and confusion at home. Her mother had been packing ready to leave her husband for good and the radio was buzzing with news about Daniel Campbell’s abduction. It had taken time but eventually she’d extracted details of the confrontation in the solicitor’s office from her mother, and the threats Granger had made.

Incandescent with rage when she’d turned up at the old hut, Granger blamed her for leading the police to him.

As if. Stupid man.

Try as she might, Sarah couldn’t imagine why else Richards wanted to talk to her. But he was deluded if he thought she would willingly meet him out by the baobab tree. Mentally reviewing the route, she turned off the highway on a faint track a kilometre short of his designated meeting place.

Congratulating herself at the thought of the detective waiting until dusk for her to arrive, Sarah hummed as she planned her social media post for day one of the ride. Not that she wanted to put herself out there but Amy Alistair and Lizzy Carter had convinced her of the need to create a positive public profile. Surprised by the generosity of both women, especially after the trauma of Lizzy's nephew’s abduction, Sarah had set up an online account and practised her presentation until the women proclaimed her ‘a natural.’

Tabitha’s ears twitched and she whickered softly, drawing Sarah’s attention back to the present. Scanning the ground ahead, she drew the mare to a halt and unclipped her rifle. Dismounting, she eased the rifle from the holder. A willy willy spiralled in a dance of red dust off to her left, and the smell of baked dirt and eucalyptus filled the air.

Treading softly, she eased around an outcrop of red and grey rock. And stared at the man leaning nonchalantly against the trunk of a scrubby tree.

You don’t need the gun, Sarah. Caleb Richards stepped out of filtered shade.

I thought Tabitha sensed a snake. She's never wrong.

Damn the man. How had he known she would take this detour? Even she hadn’t thought of it until the turnoff came into view.

Caleb chuckled but kept an eye on the gun she held across her body. Your subtle aversion to my choice of meeting place made me reconsider. Well picked. This is much better, more private.

That's not a baobab tree by the way.

And this isn't your published route. Reckon we're even on that score. He strolled towards her, thumbs hooked in the tabs of his low-slung jeans, and followed her around the outcrop until she stopped beside her mare.

She glanced at him before holstering the rifle. Temptation should never be too close at hand. Go on then. Tell me why you’re plaguing me with your presence.

He reached up and stroked the white streak along Tabitha's nose and the mare, traitorous female that she was, lowered her head and whuffled with pleasure.

You’re making several overnight stops at properties, aren’t you?

Her hand stilled on the mare's neck. There was an edge to the detective's voice at odds with his casual stance. That's the second time you've asked about my ride. Do you think I’m planning—?

He shot a look her way that stopped her next sassy comment dead.

We'll travel anywhere from sixty to one hundred kilometres a day, depending on terrain and overnight resupply spots. My route includes camping and a couple of overnight stops at homesteads, all prearranged. Is that it? Can I go now?

Richards drew a photo from his pocket and held it out. Do you know this horse? Sir Alain—he races out of Jiminie Stables.

Sarah took the photo and examined the horse she'd dreamed of one day owning. He's tipped to win the Melbourne Cup this year. I saw him at the Magic Millions sales two years ago. Bet he's a beauty now. How she had coveted the black colt but the starting price had been more than the cost of most suburban homes. So Sarah had sat back and admired the elegant, ground-eating strides and dreamed of flying on his back.

Sired by the champion, King Arthur, out of Lady Gwyn. He has a reputation for being temperamental. I'd love to see him in action now. She’d briefly considered changing her specialty to breeding after seeing the colt. Curiosity piqued, she looked at the photo again.

So would a lot of people, including his owners. The detective's smile disappeared, replaced by a frown. Used to reading the smallest of change in horses as she trained them, Sarah became aware of a slight stiffening of his shoulders. In a horse, she would be prepared for it to toss its head and pull away. Caleb Richards was more likely to surprise her. She ran her fingers through Tabitha's mane and finally bit.

What do you mean?

Sir Alain has vanished.

Chapter Two

How could a valuable horse like him go missing without it making national news? Was he abducted?

Caleb watched Sarah carefully before plucking the photo from her fingers. He'd expected her to be reluctant to talk to him, but counted on her love of horses to break down the barriers. This was a start. Why do you ask that?

Oh, I don't know. Sarcasm dripped from her words and laced the glare she flung his way. Maybe because of the recent abduction that you blamed me for. And now you're asking me about a missing horse. Do you think I've got Sir Alain stashed in a hidey hole out here?

Not you, personally, but—

How long are you going to blame me and my family for everything?

He held his hands up, palms facing her in the universally recognised gesture of surrender. Enough. No, I don't blame your family—or you. We don't choose our families and we're not responsible for their decisions. Leave Daniel Campbell's kidnapping and your father's crimes in the past where they belong. I'm asking for your help. Please.

Sarah stared at him for several long heartbeats, blinked, and then turned away to look at the sky. Nope. Can't see any flying pigs. Don't take this as me agreeing to help you but I'm curious. How can the daughter of a con help the local cops? And better yet, why would I even want to?

Finally. And it was more than the sentence or two he'd hoped to get out of