Free Opal Dreaming by Karen Wood

believe her luck. ‘Are Shara and Rosie and Grace taking their horses?’
    â€˜Nope, you’re all going in the car with Mrs Arnold.’
    Jess slumped. ‘Well, that’ll make it difficult.’ How would she ride back to the station to find Opal?
    â€˜I don’t see why,’ said Caroline. ‘You won’t need a horse to pack camp and cook.’
    â€˜Oh yeah,’ smiled Jess, brushing it off. ‘Course not!’
    â€˜And don’t you even think of sneaking off with Luke, young lady.’
    â€˜I wouldn’t!’ said Jess, incensed.
    But with Opal I might . . .
    Caroline scoffed. ‘You just did, Jessica. You scared the life out of me. If you dare do that to Mrs Arnold, I’ve told her she is to send you straight home.’
    â€˜I promise I won’t, Mum.’
    â€˜You’d better not,’ Caroline reiterated. ‘I’m serious, Jess. If you don’t do exactly what Mrs Arnold says, you’ll be on the first train home.’
    â€˜I will , I won’t ,’ groaned Jess. Then she was suddenly serious. She looked at her dad. ‘Will you take care of Dodger for me while I’m gone?’
    â€˜Sure,’ he nodded. ‘Come on, we’ll go down to the shed and you can show me everything I need to do.’ Jess could tell he was fighting the urge to look happy for her. She didn’t mind, though; she knew looking grave and apprehensive about your daughter’s crazy plans was considered the proper parental thing to do.

9
    JUDY ARNOLD DIDN’T BOTHER to slow down for the potholes in the driveway. The headlights threw wild streaks of light around the front yard as she barrelled the chunky LandCruiser along at full speed, jamming on the brakes just as Jess thought it would career straight through the house. With the engine still running, she swung out of the driver’s side door, wearing thongs, jeans and an oilskin jacket.
    Jess jumped off her packed duffle bag and hauled it down the front steps. ‘Just wait, Mrs Arnold,’ she called as she ran to the packing shed. ‘Mum donated some veggies.’ She grabbed the cardboard box by the doorway and carried it back to the four-wheel drive. ‘Reckon it’ll fit?’
    Mrs Arnold looked at the box suspiciously. ‘We usually dehydrate stuff like that,’ she said. ‘It’ll go off pretty quick.’
    â€˜It’s just a couple of days’ worth. Mum’s worried I’ll get scurvy.’ Although Jess knew it to be a ploy by mothers everywhere, Caroline had done a particularly good job instilling in her a fear of spongy gums and bleeding lips.
    â€˜Shove it in somewhere and let’s get going,’ said Mrs Arnold.
    Jess wrestled the box in with the luggage and slammed the door. She dived into the back and threw her arms around Shara’s neck. ‘I’m so stoked you could come!’
    â€˜Wouldn’t miss it.’ Shara gave her a squeeze, then whispered, ‘Let’s find Opal!’
    The vehicle took off up the driveway.
    â€˜Seatbelts!’ roared Mrs Arnold above the noise of the engine.
    Jess hung her head out the window and waved to Caroline and Craig, who stood in their robes on the front verandah, looking bleary-eyed in the gentle rising of the day.
    Grace leaned over and turned up the music. ‘Woohoo! Let’s get some road behind us!’

    They reached Blakely Downs late in the afternoon. The station seemed little more than a set of yards built from metal poles, with a jumble of covered shelters behind them. There were long, shallow water troughs, cattle ramps and big metal hay feeders. A shed large enough to house an aeroplane sat beyond the yards, with old drums, spare tyres and assorted hoses and farm equipment scattered about. Timber pallets were loaded with sacks of fertiliser and other miscellaneous farm supplies. Several cattle crates were parked alongside the shed and the nose of a large