Dear Mum, I’m so tired I can hardly think, but I’ve got to tell you. The rooster plan worked! Clara is brilliant, and so are the roosters, and Dad’s got tyre prints and a button, and with any luck we won’t even need the CCTV cameras.
What’s more, Clara and I have got an ally.
Dad and Auntie Mel had just gone off to check on the sheep when Digby came hurrying across the yard.
‘Mum said you got a message, Olive, from someone who saw the truck. Who was it? What did they see?’ He spotted Matey, who was admiring his badges. ‘And why is my rooster wearing medals? Why is he even up at this time of night?’
Clara and I looked at each other. Matey went stumbling off to the chookhouse to catch up on his sleep.
Digby narrowed his eyes. ‘What’s going on?’
I know that Clara likes Digby. She told me once that he has excellent taste in TV programs. Now, she raised her wings and semaphored, ‘T-E-L-L H-I-M.’
‘Are you sure?’ I asked.
‘Am I sure what?’ said Digby.
‘I wasn’t talking to you,’ I said. ‘I was talking to Clara.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Digby rolled his eyes.
Clara signalled again, ‘T-E-L-L H-I-M.’
‘Is she okay?’ asked Digby. ‘She hasn’t got mad chook disease or anything, has she?’
‘She’s fine,’ I said. Then I took a deep breath and said, ‘Have you ever heard of the rooster network?’
I told him about the badges, and Clara’s plan to have the roosters watch all the roads, and the early morning alarm from Matey.
‘No way,’ said Digby, laughing. He looked from me to Clara and back again. ‘I mean, I know Clara’s cute, but she’s a chook. So what really happened?’
I put my phone on the ground next to Clara, folded my arms and shut my mouth.
Clara pecked out a message. ‘THAT IS WHAT REALLY HAPPENED I AM NOT CUTE YOU WOULD NOT CALL INSPECTOR GARCIA CUTE’
Obviously she was in no mood for full stops.
Digby picked up the phone. He read the message and his mouth fell open. But it was me he questioned, not Clara. ‘How did you do that? Did you train her?’
I didn’t say a word. Clara scratched at Digby’s foot until he put the phone down again.
‘ASK ME A QUESTION,’ she wrote.
‘Okay, big joke,’ said Digby. ‘I’ll play along.
Um – Clara, how many chooks has Nan got?’
‘23’
He blinked. ‘Oka-ay. But Olive, you could have known that. We were there just the other day; you could have counted them and – and given her a signal or something.’
‘Then ask her something I don’t know,’ I said.
Digby thought for a moment, then said, ‘Clara, what did you do when we were watching Episode 11 of Amelia X?’
I thought Clara would tell him, and then he’d have to believe us. Instead, she took a step away from the phone, and hunched her wings as if she was embarrassed. No message, nothing.
‘See?’ said Digby, smirking. ‘So tell me again, Olive, who saw the truck?’
‘What happened in Episode 11?’ I asked him.
‘There were these trained hawks,’ said Digby, ‘and they were attacking Amelia and Jock. And—’
Clara dived for the phone. ‘I HID UNDER THE SOFA I DO NOT LIKE HAWKS’
‘Of course you don’t,’ I said. ‘No sensible chook likes hawks.’ I turned back to Digby. ‘Well?’
But he was still looking at Clara’s message, and shaking his head. ‘No way,’ he whispered. ‘No way!’ He stared at Clara. ‘You really understand everything I’m saying? You really … I’m not going mad?’
‘YOU ARE NOT A DUCK, DIGBY.’
‘What does that even mean?’ he asked.
‘She’s got this thing about ducks,’ I said. ‘But listen, Digby, you’re not allowed to tell anyone. Promise you won’t.’
‘I promise,’ he whispered. ‘On one condition. You’re helping your dad, right? So I want to be in on it. I want to help too.’
‘I’ll have to consult with Clara.’
‘Of course you will,’ said Digby. He was shaking his head again, but he backed off a little way to give us some privacy.
I squatted down beside Clara. ‘What do you reckon? He could be helpful.’
‘I WOULD HAVE TWO SIDEKICKS INSTEAD OF ONE,’ she wrote. ‘AMELIA X ONLY HAS ONE. AND JOCK DOES NOT HAVE POPCORN.’
‘So we let him help?’
‘YES. BUT HE MUST LEARN SEMAPHORE. AND TELL HIM—’
That’s when she passed on Matey’s description of the truck. I was just telling Digby, when Dad and Auntie Mel came back.
‘Mum?’ called Digby, as the car door opened. ‘Are the sheep all right?’
Auntie Mel shook her head and leaned back against the car seat. She looked very tired. ‘The ram’s gone, and twenty ewes.’
‘Your champion ram?’ I said.
‘I’m afraid so,’ said Auntie Mel. ‘We looked everywhere and couldn’t find him. Add that to the tyre tracks and the cut chain … We were going to move them into the home paddock tomorrow, because of the thefts.’
She put her head in her hands, and Digby hugged her. ‘We’ll get them back, Mum. Don’t worry. And at least we’ve got a description of the truck.’
‘We have?’ said Dad, climbing out of the car with his notebook in his hand. ‘When did that happen?’
‘I – um – got another message,’ I told him. ‘It’s a white truck – or whitish – with a closed-in back. Sounds as if it’s about the same size as Mr Waddle’s Isuzu. Two people in the front.’
Dad was making notes. ‘Anything else?’
I shook my head. Dad turned to Auntie Mel. ‘Who knew you were going to move them closer to the house? Did you talk to anyone about it?’
Clara took a step closer, as if she was determined not to miss the answer.
Auntie Mel rubbed her eyes. ‘I probably mentioned it to a few people. It’s just one of those things you talk about, you know? Everyone’s worried about the thefts.’ She looked at Dad. ‘You don’t think anyone local is involved?’
‘I’m beginning to wonder,’ he said. ‘Which is why I want you to keep this to yourself for now. You too, Digby. And Olive. The description and the tyre tracks are the first real break I’ve had, and I don’t want anyone knowing about them. In fact, I’d rather no one knows that we know the sheep are missing. Can I rely on you?’
We all nodded. At least, Digby and his mum and I did. Clara just sat there looking thoughtful.
Love, Olive