Moonstone Promise by Karen Wood Read Free Book Online

isn’t it?’
    â€˜Luke,’ the man nodded. He reached out a large, calloused hand to shake. ‘Met you at Longwood, a while back. You rode the stallion at the funeral yesterday.’
    â€˜Yeah, that’s right,’ said Luke cautiously.
    Bob motioned towards the seat opposite. ‘Mind?’
    Luke gathered up his discarded burger wrappers from the table to clear a space.
    Bob cast solemn eyes over Luke’s swollen face. ‘Been givin’ cheek, ay,’ he said, more as a statement than a question.
    Luke nodded.
    â€˜And now you’re taking off,’ Bob concluded, pulling the cap off his water bottle and chugging it down.
    Luke bit into the burger and flipped over a page in the roadmap without answering.
    Bob placed the water bottle in front of him on the table and held it in both hands, turning it slowly around, as though waiting for Luke to look up and answer him.
    Luke could feel his eyes on him. He turned another page.
    I’m not going back.
    Bob drank from the bottle again, emptying it this time. He placed it carefully back on the table and wiped his beard with his sleeve. ‘I’m headed to the Gulf: plenty yarramin up that way too. You want a lift, you better make up your mind quick.’ He screwed the cap back on the bottle and stood up. ‘Blue HQ out the front. Just gotta fuel up, then I’m off.’
    Luke watched Bob walk to a bin and toss the empty bottle into it before walking out the door. He stepped into a metallic blue ute and began backing it out of the parking space.
    Luke quickly gathered his maps and shoved them into his pack as he scraped his chair back. The ute pulled up at a bowser, and Bob got out and began to fill the tank.
    Luke reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out a fifty. He held it out to Bob, who glanced at it and shook his head. ‘Put that away.’
    When they were on the highway, Bob put a CD into the stereo and turned it up loud enough to rule out any chance of talking, which suited Luke fine. He looked at the cover sitting on the centre console. There was a picture of some haunted-looking dude on the front.
    The sun streamed in through the front window and he wished he’d bought a cheap pair of sunnies at the truck stop. The music was twangy country, similar to the stuff Lawson always played.
    They’ve put my soul up for sale / Now there’s darkness on my trail.
    Luke put his head back, closed his eyes and breathed in the manky odours that seeped from the upholstery of the seats: the different people, dogs, old buckets, greasy chains, burger wrappers and leather saddles.
    The CD played enough times for Luke to start to sing along to the lyrics in his head, and then they faded as sleep closed over him.
    It was late afternoon when a bump in the road banged his head against the window. He woke with a jerk and realised he’d been dribbling. The same voice was still singing.
    I keep on running / like a river full of pain / it keeps pulling me / dragging on my chain.
    He felt something dig into his hip and pulled the moonstone out of his pocket. It was milky and shiny, with faint colours reflecting off it. He untangled the leather strap, pulled it over his head and tucked the stone safely under his shirt, then fell asleep again.

    When he woke it was evening and the same voice was still singing.
    They’re watching me now / The cockies on the rail / The hammer’s coming down / My soul is up for sale.
    Bob sang along loudly as he pulled over into a truck stop, rolled up next to a petrol bowser and wrenched on the handbrake.
    Luke got out and stretched his legs. A warm gust of air hit him in the face, bringing with it familiar sounds and smells of the night: mulga trees and red earth, dry air, mixed with petrol and oil, tyres on a distant freeway, screeching bats and country music floating out of overhead speakers.
    He went into the roadhouse and ordered two steak sandwiches. While he was