LUKE REACHED THE truck to find Pete and two other friends celebrating on top of it. They began drumming their feet on the roof as he approached, sending Reo careering backwards in a huge spook. ’Your shout at the pub tonight, Dingo Luke,’ Pete laughed as Luke tried to regain control of the stallion.
‘I haven’t won it yet,’ said Luke, looking up at him and smiling. Ninety was the best score he’d ever got, but a good rider could still easily knock him off.
‘Yeah, you have,’ said one of Pete’s mates. ‘Last two riders got cracked out. It’s yours!’
‘Five hundred bucks between us,’ whooped Pete. ‘We should go to the pub for a big feed, celebrate!’
‘Sounds good to me,’ laughed Luke. He hadn’t eaten properly for days. ‘Do I look eighteen?’
Pete shrugged. ‘Who cares?’
Luke gave Reo a rub on the forehead. ‘We’d better go back and claim our prize money then, buddy!’
While Pete and Luke watered horses and packed gear away, Toby ran around with four colourful ribbons tied to his arm: one of his own, two places from the filly, and a big blue sash from the stallion. ‘This is our best draft ever! Dingo Luke rides ‘em heaps better than you, Dad!’
‘You wanna go get the prize money while I load up these horses?’ Pete asked Luke. ‘You gotta go to the secretary’s tent and give ’em your ticket.’
‘Yep, sure,’ said Luke. ‘I just gotta use some of that money to settle some other business first. I bought some brumbies from the stock contractor.’ He punched the air, stoked that he’d have money left over.
Pete pulled a face. ‘What for?’
Luke shrugged. ‘Just to let them go. He was going to send them to the slaughter yards.’
Pete looked baffled, but shrugged as he unlocked the box and let the pups out. They landed on the ground in a squirmy tangle of legs and tails and bounded straight over to Luke with their tongues hanging out.
Luke set off to collect his winnings from the secretary’s tent with his fingers in his belt loops, a whistle on his lips and a lightness in his step. He felt taller, stronger, prouder than he ever had in his life.
He looked around at the two pups at his heels. They truly were goofy-looking with their long snouts, droopy jowls and huge fat paws. Their tails seemed too long for their bodies. And for some strange reason they seemed to utterly adore him. He bent over and gave them a pat. ‘Why me?’
Filth instantly rolled on his back and piddled in the air with excitement. Fang jumped over him and got squirted. Luke looked at them with a mix of disgust, endearment and disappointment. ‘Why couldn’t you be blue heelers or something useful?’
‘Dingo, Dingo, quick!’ Toby yelled urgently, galloping up behind him and pulling Greybo to a sliding stop. ‘The coppers are here, they’re asking for some fella called Luke Matheson! That you?’
Sister Suzie!
Luke’s eyes darted about. He saw it. A big four-wheel drive with blue-and-white checks down the side and sirens and aerials all over it. Sister Suzie in the front seat, pointing at him.
‘It’s the grey nurse!’ shrieked Toby.
Luke looked about frantically. ‘They’ve seen me, Toby, where do I go?’
‘Jump on the back!’ screamed Toby. ‘I’ll take you to the river. Jump on quick!’
Luke sprang up behind Toby and both he and the boy flapped their legs against the horse’s sides, galloping straight for the gap between the cop car and the dagwood-dog stand.
Sister Suzie stepped out and tried to block them, waving her arms and hopping about like a soccer goalie. But Toby rode straight over the top of her, sending her leaping out of the way and crashing into a queue of hungry dagwood-dog customers. Luke turned to see Fang and Filth take flying leaps and land on her. Fang took hold of her trouser leg, growling with high-pitched puppyish rage. Filth lay on her chest and smothered her with kisses. She screamed at the police to get them off.
Luke and Toby sailed over a timber fence and headed straight for the scrub. They galloped in and out of trees and the scrub got thicker and thicker. As the showgrounds grew further and further behind them, they slowed to a walk, keeping under the cover of the trees. Soon they reached an overgrown section of the river, choked thick with pandanus and palms.
‘I think we lost them,’ panted Toby.
‘Did you see the dogs?’ laughed Luke.
‘Yeah, that pup slobbered all over her!’
They rode for a little while longer and then Luke slipped off the horse and looked back behind him.
He gave a short whistle.
The bush was quiet.
Luke stood and waited, hopeful.
There was a rustle, and first Fang, then Filth, came gambolling along the track. Luke knelt on one knee and held his arms out. They dived into his lap and wiggled excitedly, puffing and slobbering profusely.
‘I think them pups wanna be yours,’ said Toby.
‘I reckon there’s no getting around it now,’ said Luke, jerking his chin away from an enthusiastic tongue. ‘Pwah, have to change their diet though. No more offal for you, matey,’ he said, pushing Filth away. ‘What about you? You going back?’
‘I ain’t going near them coppers,’ said Toby.
Luke wondered why but said nothing.
‘Don’t ask,’ said Toby.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Luke, shaking his head. ‘I ain’t gonna. But what about your dad?’
‘We know how to find each other out here, no worries,’ said Toby. ‘And if we run into a croc, you can wrestle him, like you did that buffalo.’
‘Are there crocs in this river?’
‘Prob’ly not.’
‘That means maybe yes.’
‘Yeah, but what are the chances?’ said the kid. ‘That’s what Dad always says.’
‘Yeah, what are the chances,’ agreed Luke.
They headed back along the river. When the pups got tired, Luke scooped them up and put them in the saddlebags. Toby broke tree branches and arranged various stones as they went, leaving a trail for Pete.