Zeke woke. He didn’t know why. First thing, he smelled moisture in the air, the scent of rain on dry earth. From the swag, he glanced up through the window at the night sky. Black as pitch, so maybe cloud had rolled in and falling rain had woken him.
He waited. No rain. No fat drops landing on the roof.
A horse whinnied. Milo? Cricket? But they were out the back.
Christ almighty …
He edged off the thin bedding and crawled to the window to peer out. At first, he saw nothing, then a silhouette. A sturdy beast and a rider, motionless.
Why hadn’t the dogs barked? Christ, Christ, Christ.
He sunk back to the floor, felt for the rifle, his hand on the butt. Yes, yes, he could shoot out the window if need be, but who was out there?
The front door? No, take the back door and go around the house to the front. On the dirt, not on the verandah. No noise, no noise.
He snatched up the rifle, then thought better of it. What use would it be if he couldn’t see a damn thing? Still, he took it with him as he left his room, Jude’s deep breathing the only sound. The door to his kids’ room was closed over as he passed so he heard nothing from there.
He walked swiftly, lightly in socked feet and slid the bolt on the back door. The latch scraped when he released it, and the sound boomed in his ears. He held his breath.
No hooves, no footfalls. No dogs barking—probably good; he’d take this bastard by surprise.
Dammit—would the door creak as it opened? He couldn’t remember if it did. Why couldn’t he bloody remember if his own back door creaked when it opened? Jesus. He pulled it an inch, two inches. A foot. A little more so he could squeeze through, the rifle snug at his side.
Crouching, he edged towards the back of the house, feeling his way along the wall, its weatherboards familiar under his hand. At the corner, he stood, daring to move only enough to see across the yard where the horse and rider stood.
What was he doing, this trespasser, just standing there?
Zeke’s pulse thudded in his neck. If he moved, chances were he’d be seen. He stared, willing the shadow take a form he could—
Horse and rider turned away. They were moving carefully, stealthily towards the other end of house. If Zeke moved now, he’d be behind them. He lay the rifle flat on the ground, took a deep lungful of night air, then silently sprinted towards them.