Free Riding the Storm by Heather Graves

we to do? We’ll be killed,’ she wailed, clasping Tinka to her bosom as the little dog whimpered, her whole body trembling with fear.
    ‘Stay put. We’re as safe in here as we’d be anywhere.’ Ryan wanted to sound calm and reassuring but he wasn’t sure Joanne could hear him over the fury of the cyclone. He was beginning to think the house might be torn from its stumps, leaving them vulnerable to the intensity of the storm. Exposed to the elements, they would face certain death.
    Finally, although it was still pouring with rain, the winds gradually dropped and, against all odds, Joanne fell asleep. In the early hours of the morning, Ryan switched on the radio in the hope of hearing some news. It took a while to come through, none of it good. Throughout the district, there had been massive damage to property and all the banana plantations and cane fields were laid waste. Farmers would have to start all over again. Miraculously, so far there was no news that anyone had been killed. Although there were strict instructions coming through on the radio that no oneshould venture out of doors, Joanne refused to stay put in the bathroom and, when it had been quiet for some time, they both went outside to assess the damage to the house. Even before seeing the full extent of it, Ryan knew they wouldn’t be able to live there as it was.
    Great holes had been punched in the far side and half the roof had been torn away. Sheets of corrugated iron lay scattered all over the yard and what had once been Ryan’s vegetable garden was drowning in rain and mud. Their livelihood was no more. The shed that had housed the chickens had completely disappeared, along with the occupants; just a few feathers remained.
    ‘Mum! Come back to the house!’ Ryan called from the doorway, trying to stop her, but she was already running towards the empty space, her fist in her mouth.
    ‘My little friends! Who has stolen our chickens? Where have they gone?’
    There weren’t many big trees on the property. Some time ago when things were tight, Peter had sold a big cedar to a furniture maker, leaving just a few eucalypts, not known for their stability at the best of times. One was already down, the roots torn from the ground, and Joanne was standing quite close to the other one.
    Suddenly, there was a loud crack like a big gun going off and a huge branch fell, giving Ryan no time to shout a warning. He could only stare as it settled over the spot where Joanne had been standing just a moment before. For a moment or so, like a fool, he wondered where she’d gone. It was only when Tinka raised her head and started to howl that he realized she had been crushed underneath it. She wouldn’thave known what hit her. Blood was already starting to pool, mingling with the rain and mud on the ground. And, even before he screwed up the courage to take a closer look, he knew there was no possibility his mother could have survived.

CHAPTER SIX
    I T LOOKED AS if Joanne’s funeral would be poorly attended. The little town was still reeling from the devastation left in the wake of the cyclone. Many local people were crowded in with relatives and friends as their own homes had been damaged or destroyed. Among this number was Ryan, who now had to deal with much more than the loss of his mother. The roof had been torn off the house, leaving it exposed to the elements, and his once flourishing market garden had been reduced to a mess of broken plants and mud, his livelihood gone. And, worst of all, Sprite appeared to have taken fright and run away.
    Aside from the money Robert had paid for Tommy and which Ryan was trying to leave untouched, there was just enough left from their dwindling resources to pay for Joanne’s funeral. Needing to find a positive somewhere, he allowed himself to hope that after all the misery he had suffered, as well as the loss of his parents, Robert might now relent sufficiently to let him buy the horse back. Slim as it was, he had to believe