Free Bella's Run by Margareta Osborn Page A

due to the drought.
    ‘But regardless of the time of year, they’ve got the Stockmen’s Challenge, a demanding and hotly contested horse race, which will test out the best horsemen in the land. There’s some hay-stacking, round-bale-rolling, whip-cracking and bush poetry. On Friday night a country-music DJ will hit the stage. He’ll be followed by a cover band on Saturday night . . .’
    Bella looked at Patty.
    Patty looked at Bella.
    No-one knew they were on their way home. They’d decided the news they’d been sacked was better told to their parents in person. And they’d wanted to surprise Will and Macca. All phone calls home had been brief, text messages vague. What better way to end a year of fun and freedom than with the Nunkeri Muster?

    And Will and Macca were sure to be there.
    ‘You in?’ said Patty, looking across the ute at her best mate. ‘Boy, oh boy, I’m in!’ yelled Bella, dropping the CD and shoving her left hand in the air.
    ‘Let’s do it then!’ cried Patty, slamming a high five.

    ‘You realise we won’t get there tonight,’ said Bella, a little while later.
    Patty grunted, again nestled under her hat against the seat-rest.
    ‘If we start out early in the morning, we’ll get there in plenty of time for tomorrow night, though.’
    Another grunt from the passenger seat.
    That was enough encouragement for Bella. She notched up her speed and firmly pointed the ute’s bonnet south while the radio announcer voiced the local rural news. With nothing to do but drive, Bella snagged her Sara Storer CD from the floor where it had fallen, shoved it into the player and cranked up the volume.
    She felt the music transport her to another time, another place.
    She was in Gundolin.
    Back with Will.
    Dancing with Will.
    Man, she’d missed him. Never before had she been so struck on a bloke. Will had somehow broken through the rules she and Patty had lived by: all fun; no pain or gain, especially when it came to men.
    At unexpected moments over the last couple of weeks when she was riding the motorbike, or just mowing the lawn, she’d found herself yearning to see him, to hear his deep voice and laughter, to smell and feel his warmth.
    The few mobile phone calls and text messages they’d shared had only accentuated the hundreds of miles of distance between them and made her yearn for him all the more.
    She wanted to taste him. Make love to him.
    Six weeks was up.
    She’d won the bet. All wagers were now off. The booty was hers; Patty owed her a slab of rum and fifty bucks.
    Her eyes slid across the ute to Will’s sister. Bella had been worried about Patty too, since the boys left. Patty had been quiet – almost reflective – and that wasn’t like her at all. Strangest of all was that Patty hadn’t been forthcoming with information after the night in Gundolin. When Bella asked how things had gone, Patty just smiled. With dreamy eyes she’d responded, ‘Good, really good .’
    That was it. Not a skerrick more.
    Although, Bella hadn’t exactly bared her soul to Patty about Will either, other than to complain about a certain bet.
    More roaming windmill grass caught Bella’s eye in the paddock out to the right, tumbling wildly like her thoughts and her unexpected feelings for Will. Her whole body suddenly seemed as light as air at the thought of what was waiting in those mountains. Bella pulled the ute to a halt by the side of the three-chain wide road. Unsnapped her seatbelt.
    ‘What are you doing?’ asked Patty, the sudden stop making her pull the hat from over her eyes. ‘Where are you going?’ she said again, jolting upright.
    Bella jumped from the driver’s seat, grabbed her hat and slammed the door.

    Through the open window she called, ‘Out to dance through tumbleweeds!’
    ‘They’re not tumbleweeds, they’re just bloody grass heads! You’re an idiot.’
    ‘So are you. Come on !’ Twirling, Bella threw her hat into the air. ‘We’ve lived one of our dreams, Patty. Our