One Sunday by Joy Dettman Read Free Book Online

senior and not so agile, placed one foot down and took his time. He retrieved his bag from the wire basket, his lantern from the handlebars, then allowed his bike to fall. The lantern held low, they stood looking down at the girl: blood staining the side of her mouth, blood around her nose, no obvious sign of laceration.
    â€˜Shite,’ Rob said. ‘Hang on to the light for me, Tom.’ And he was down on one knee, his fingers searching for a pulse. ‘Hold it over her. Tilt it, and get rid of that shadow. ‘Now hold it there.’ He lifted her head, his fingers doing more examining than his eyes, then he placed her head gently down. ‘Shite,’ he said. ‘Shite, shite, and more of it. What’s gone wrong with this bloody town tonight?’
    â€˜I can carry her up to the hospital, Doctor Hunter. She’s no weight.’
    â€˜The ambulance is on its way. I reckon she looks comfortable enough where she is, lad.’
    More light creeping out of the east now, Tom could see blood on Kurt’s shirt, blood on his hand, which he was rubbing against the legs of his trousers.
    â€˜You’ve got a lot of her blood on you, Kurt,’ Tom said.
    â€˜I tried to lift her, before I saw she was injured.’
    â€˜You didn’t see what happened to her?’
    Kurt shook his head, turned away.
    â€˜She’s taken some sort of blow to the base of the skull, by the looks of it. That’s all I can find,’ Rob said.
    â€˜Hit by a car?’
    â€˜Not likely. Something would be broken. There’d be skin off somewhere. There’s hardly a mark on her.’ Rob continued his examination, lifting her sleeves, looking at her arms, her legs. ‘I can’t see anything in this light. You didn’t straighten her up at all, lad? Didn’t pull her skirt down?’
    â€˜She’s . . . as I found her.’
    â€˜She’s been carried here, and not long ago.’ Rob gained his feet with difficulty and turned to the sound of horse’s hooves and creaking harness. ‘Someone’s down there.’
    â€˜Mr Mason. He’s camped down past the hotel with his herd,’ Kurt said.
    â€˜He won’t find much for them to eat out there.’
    Plenty of feed on old Joe Reichenberg’s property. His frontage wasn’t great, but the land went well back. It looked like a small piece of Germany, that property, its mudbrick house nestling in the shade of European trees, the outbuildings complementing the picture. Tom allowed his eyes to rest there while his mind pondered the likelihood of Kurt knowing more about what had gone on here tonight than he was saying. Their gate was no more than fifty feet from where Rachael lay.
    Behind her, to the north, was unfenced bushland belonging to her husband. Kennedy owned something like two hundred acres, running from Merton Road to the river.
    â€˜How long will it take for the ambulance to get here, Doctor Hunter?’
    â€˜Twenty-five miles at thirty miles an hour, if they’re lucky – and maybe longer if they haven’t got that fire out,’ Rob replied. ‘The sky is looking clearer.’
    â€˜It is,’ Tom said. ‘I reckon she’s under control.’ He sniffed at the air, which was still smoke tainted but with a whiff of cow and eucalyptus this morning. Rising then from his squat, he wiped the gravel from his hand on the seat of his trousers. ‘I was talking to one of the Willama chaps last night. He said they expected she’d burn herself out if she didn’t jump the river and get into the state forest. Keep the old fingers crossed, eh?’
    Rob yawned, rubbed at his long jaw. He looked his age this morning, looked more than his age. Long, lean and craggy, his features carved to suit his frame; his hair was white but he had plenty of it.
    â€˜I saw your lights burning late last night, Rob.’
    â€˜We delivered an infant.’
    â€˜Whose?’
    Rob