Sam Tarant was hunched over as he walked through the paddocks towards Stone Gully. He didn’t know what he was going to do but somehow Jordy had to help him. Fifteen minutes ago he’d just got off the phone from the bank—they were threatening to take Tarantale Downs unless he came up with money for the arrears. What could he do? You can’t get blood out of a damn stone. He tried to tell them that there was a payout coming but it was still going through the insurance companies and the court. But nothing he said would placate them. Jordy was his last chance.
He stopped for a moment and looked up at the sky. What the hell am I doing? Jordy wasn’t even sure where the gold seam was—oh, he kept boasting that he knew where it was but he hadn’t shared that information with Sam.
His hand closed around the object in his pocket. Maybe he’d just make Jordy tell him—that’s right, that’s what he’d do. He dragged in a breath and started walking again, this time increasing his pace. How could Jordy not share where the gold was? He was meant to be his friend, wasn’t he? Why would he keep that sort of secret when it could change both their lives?
The sun was descending towards the far-off hills but the heat of the day still lingered. Sweat trickled down Sam’s back but he felt chilled to the bone. Once again he stopped, this time looking back over his shoulder. He should go home and forget that he was going to confront Jordy. This was a mistake, a monumental mistake.
Slowly he turned his head back and looked ahead. But was it? Maybe Jordy was pretending about the gold. Maybe because it was on his land he was going to keep it all for himself. Sam stood as still as a statue as the warm summer breeze blew over him.
But Jordy wasn’t like that—if he had the money he would help. It wasn’t as if Sam was asking for charity. It would be a loan, just until he got back on his feet. He couldn’t lose Tarantale Downs, it was in his blood, his bones, it was what defined him. What would he be without it? Nothing.
And if Jordy McCalister was really his friend, he’d help him.
Another gust blew over him, bringing the scent of dust and dry grass. His heart told him to turn around and go back. Instead he took a step forwards, his boot crushing a small plant struggling to survive in the dried-off paddock. Sam didn’t notice, he just straightened his shoulders and kept going.