Hope's Road by Margareta Osborn Read Free Book Online

eager.
    Tammy hated to disappoint him but there wasn’t much else the child could do for her today. ‘No, mate. All done.’ At Billy’s downcast look, she added, ‘Thanks heaps for the help, though. Takes a lot longer on my own.’ The child gave her a dazzling grin that turned the red-haired little urchin into a handsome boy. ‘What do you think you’ll do now?’ she asked. It was Saturday, no school. Though she knew that, when his father wasn’t home, the child just bummed around the bush up on the hill, playing imaginary games. As a kid, she’d done it herself.
    â€˜Old man McCauley killed a sheep last night. Just baled it up in a corner of the paddock, got a knife and slit its throat. Totally cool. Might go see what he’s gunna do next.’
    Tammy frowned. She knew only too well what Joe McCauley thought of trespassers. Especially kids. ‘You be careful over there, Billy. The old man doesn’t take too well to folks spying on his business.’ She’d found that out thirty years back.
    But Billy was already pulling off his helmet and donning his Akubra again. ‘I will,’ he called as he slung out of the drive, pedalling his old BMX like a maniac. ‘See ya!’ he called.
    â€˜See you , Billy,’ Tammy muttered, smiling and shaking her head as she watched him go.
    Suddenly the child did an about-face in the drive and came back.
    â€˜Hey, Tammy!’ he called. ‘I forgot. Can I use your computer? I’ve gotta do a speech for school on Monday. Need to type it up.’ Billy was level with her now, flinging his bike into the grass, walking over, pulling a grotty-looking piece of paper from his back pocket. ‘See. I got it all written out. I just need to type it up.’
    â€˜Sure. Go ahead. What’s your talk on?’
    â€˜Three minutes on meself.’
    â€˜Three minutes on my -self, Billy,’ Tammy said with a smile.
    Billy glanced at her with a wicked grin. ‘No. Not on you. That’d be too hard, with all that history and stuff you’ve got here at Montmorency. It’d take waaay too long.’
    Tammy laughed. ‘Tell me a bit of your speech,’ she said, leaning against the front of the tractor. The poor kid was probably supposed to be practising it in front of someone. Maybe if he had four legs instead of two he’d garner more attention from that father of his.
    Billy’s face flushed. ‘I ain’t much good at it,’ he said, swiping at his nose in agitation.
    Tammy decided to ignore the ain’t . ‘Try me.’
    Billy flattened out the piece of paper. Cleared his throat. ‘Me name’s Billy Hunter and I’m ten years old. I live on McCauley’s Hill, just out of Lake Grace in the Narree Valley with me dad, Travis Hunter. He’s a dog trapper with the De . . . De-part – ament of Conservation.’ He looked across at Tammy, shamefaced. ‘I can’t say it. I can’t say De-deapartment.’
    Tammy smiled. ‘’Course you can. Follow me. De. Part. Ment.’
    Billy said, ‘De-apart –’ He shook his head. ‘That’s not right. What did you say again?’
    Tammy pitched her voice a bit louder. ‘De. Part. Ment.’
    Billy looked surprised. ‘There’s no “a” in the middle, then?’
    â€˜Only in the “part” bit.’
    â€˜Right,’ said the boy. ‘So it’s just De-part-ment. Department.’ The child grinned as he ran the word together. ‘I’ve got it, haven’t I?’
    Tammy nodded with pride. ‘You’ve got it.’
    â€˜Department, department, department.’ He started to run off towards the house (and presumably the computer) chanting at the top of his voice, ‘Department, department . . . I heard it. I got it! Yes !’

Chapter 7
    Travis threw another strip of wattle