The Golden Stranger by Karen Wood Read Free Book Online

Corey worked for his dad part-time. He might know something.
    How to get his number? Ask Elliot? But he’d tell Grace, Grace would tell Jess, and Jess could be such a disapproving old woman. Hmmm. Shara pulled out her iPhone and googled the local branch of the rodeo association, then scrolled through its contacts. Aha!
    â€˜How’s the draft?’ she asked when he picked up. Much cooler not to introduce herself.
    â€˜Good cattle,’ said Corey on the other end. ‘Purebred Droughtmasters. You’d like them.’ Shara could hear their crooning in the background mingling with country music and instantly wished she was there.
    â€˜So, did you find someone to share the float?’
    â€˜No. I was saving a spot for you.’
    â€˜Do you even know who this is?’
    â€˜Of course I do.’
    She remained silent, testing him. Grace reckoned he had so many girlfriends he couldn’t keep up with them all.
    â€˜Shara,’ he said, after the smallest of pauses.
    â€˜Took you a while.’
    â€˜I’ve got one more run in the Novice, then I’m done for the day. You should come out for the band tonight.’
    He was incorrigible, which she found kind of enjoyable. But she remained aloof. ‘Can’t, I promised I’d go on a night ride with Jess.’ That was close enough to the truth – give or take a few hours.
    â€˜You can ride around in the dark all you like out here.’
    â€˜Not quite the same,’ she said. ‘Hey, did your dad tell you about the colt that showed up at my place?’
    â€˜The one you thought was a burglar?’
    â€˜Err, yes.’ It seemed so stupid now. Best not to tell Corey that at one stage she had thought he might be the burglar. ‘Your dad came and looked at him. Have you heard anything about how he’s going?’
    â€˜He’s at the Coachwood Animal Shelter. They’re having trouble with him.’
    â€˜Why, what’s wrong?’ asked Shara. ‘Has he been sick again?’
    â€˜No, but he’s badly undernourished. Dad reckons he’s about two years old, from the look of his teeth. He’s only as big as a yearling, though. But that’s not the trouble.’
    â€˜So, what is?’
    â€˜He can undo stable doors. He chews on anything; lead ropes, brushes. He chewed the back pocket off my jeans while I was talking to one of the staff. Cheeky.’ Corey sounded suddenly distracted. ‘Hey, I gotta go and warm up. Talk later, hey?’
    â€˜Okay, bye.’ Shara imagined him on that big red quarter horse, tucking his phone back in his pocket, kicking it into a canter and circling a few laps. He looked good on a horse. No wonder girls hung off him all the time. Not her, though – Corey was so not her type.
    She lay there basking in the sunshine and hummed a little tune. Her dad walked onto the verandah and set a cup of coffee and the newspaper on the table.
    â€˜I just visited Goldie at the shelter,’ said Barry. ‘The staff say he’s doing great.’
    â€˜Did you?’ Shara peered over the lip of the hammock, surprised. ‘I just spoke to Corey, and he says he’s been undoing stable doors.’
    â€˜Hmmm.’ Barry began flipping through the paper. ‘They didn’t tell me that bit.’
    Shara wondered whether to tell him about the rest of the colt’s antics and decided against it. ‘Have they found the owners yet?’
    â€˜No – the RSPCA’s been in touch with the Connemans, and they denied owning him. But they’re probably just trying to avoid prosecution.’ He took a sip of his coffee.
    â€˜Oh. So what happens next? Where will Goldie end up?’
    â€˜Well, if they can’t prove he belongs to the Connemans, they’ll find him a new home.’
    â€˜He could come and live here, Dad. He could be your horse,’ said Shara, the idea coming to her and flowing out of her mouth before she could