the sun was up and so was he.
So he felt more miserable than ever. He was cranky, tired and hungry â a pain he wished would go away!
After a long drink from a creek, he flicked his hands dry and stood up. He walked back to his âbedâand grabbed his bag. Heâd found it and his clothes scattered by the roadside three kilometres from where James had robbed him. The wallet was empty. That was predictable. But stealing his cans of food was really low.
âYou can put your bag in the back if you like.â
Heâd been an idiot!
âIt must be the water valve. I didnât see it anywhere. It mustâve fallen down inside the engine.â
âI can find it. Do you have a torch somewhere?â
How could he have fallen for such a simple trap?
Brett closed his eyes and hung his head. He still couldnât believe what had happened. Just thinking about it made him sore. It made him feel stupid, angry and â¦
And?
Scared.
There! Heâd admitted it! He was scared of what would happen to him now that he had no money, and scared that something worse could have happened last night. James could have had a gun or a knife or â
Stop!
He was spooking himself. The thought had bugged him a lot since the robbery. But he couldnât shake it. It wasnât something that happened everyday. It hadnât happened to him ever! And he wished it hadnât now.
He felt â
(the same way the people he robbed did?)
No, not that.
(Liar.)
No!
(Yes!)
âNO!â
A herd of cows to Brettâs left bolted as he yelled out. He suddenly became conscious of where he was again and pushed his way through the trees towards the main road. Within seconds he was walking along the dusty bitumen, a large sunbaking lizard the only traffic.
A peeling billboard loomed above him. It advertised bed and breakfast in Moree 89 kâs away. It had a picture of a well-groomed family sitting down at a table loaded with plates of hot food and bowls of salad. Sharp hunger pains flexed their claws in his stomach again. He desperately needed to eat â and now . The only chance of that round here was to beg or earn some money.
To his right, sat a white weatherboard house with a truck and a set of kidsâ swings out front. A fresh load of washing drip-dried off a Hills Hoist out theback, indicating someone had hung it out recently. Brett walked faster. This was a family. Theyâd have pity on him.
âSorry,â the lady said from behind the screen door.
âIâm a hard worker. Really.â
âIâm sure you are but the droughtâs left us with no money. We canât pay the bank and the only food we eat we grow ourselves. Iâm sorry but we canât help you.â
âThen do you know anyone here who is looking for help?â
âMummy, whoâs this man?â
âSssh, Philip. Mummyâs talking.â Her snot-face son kept pestering her until she sent him bawling to his room. âUm, you could try the Nicholas property. Itâs the biggest one round here. The owners occasionally hire extra staff.â
âWhereâs that?â
âFour kilometres south. On the other side of the road.â
The property was easy to find. A steel milk drum painted red and used as a mailbox was marked NICHOLAS.
âDad!â a girl in her twenties shouted after answering the doorbell. âThereâs someone here to see you.â
A tall man with a sunburnt neck and face filled the doorway and stared down at Brett. âMorning,â the man said. âWhat can I do for you?â
âEr, well, I was wondering if you have any spare work at the moment. I was passing through the area and some people down the road said you might need someone to help you round the property. Iâm a hard worker and Iâm good with my hands. Iâve got a bit of experience working on a farm so I thought you might ââ
âWhoa, son. Stop. Take a
So he felt more miserable than ever. He was cranky, tired and hungry â a pain he wished would go away!
After a long drink from a creek, he flicked his hands dry and stood up. He walked back to his âbedâand grabbed his bag. Heâd found it and his clothes scattered by the roadside three kilometres from where James had robbed him. The wallet was empty. That was predictable. But stealing his cans of food was really low.
âYou can put your bag in the back if you like.â
Heâd been an idiot!
âIt must be the water valve. I didnât see it anywhere. It mustâve fallen down inside the engine.â
âI can find it. Do you have a torch somewhere?â
How could he have fallen for such a simple trap?
Brett closed his eyes and hung his head. He still couldnât believe what had happened. Just thinking about it made him sore. It made him feel stupid, angry and â¦
And?
Scared.
There! Heâd admitted it! He was scared of what would happen to him now that he had no money, and scared that something worse could have happened last night. James could have had a gun or a knife or â
Stop!
He was spooking himself. The thought had bugged him a lot since the robbery. But he couldnât shake it. It wasnât something that happened everyday. It hadnât happened to him ever! And he wished it hadnât now.
He felt â
(the same way the people he robbed did?)
No, not that.
(Liar.)
No!
(Yes!)
âNO!â
A herd of cows to Brettâs left bolted as he yelled out. He suddenly became conscious of where he was again and pushed his way through the trees towards the main road. Within seconds he was walking along the dusty bitumen, a large sunbaking lizard the only traffic.
A peeling billboard loomed above him. It advertised bed and breakfast in Moree 89 kâs away. It had a picture of a well-groomed family sitting down at a table loaded with plates of hot food and bowls of salad. Sharp hunger pains flexed their claws in his stomach again. He desperately needed to eat â and now . The only chance of that round here was to beg or earn some money.
To his right, sat a white weatherboard house with a truck and a set of kidsâ swings out front. A fresh load of washing drip-dried off a Hills Hoist out theback, indicating someone had hung it out recently. Brett walked faster. This was a family. Theyâd have pity on him.
âSorry,â the lady said from behind the screen door.
âIâm a hard worker. Really.â
âIâm sure you are but the droughtâs left us with no money. We canât pay the bank and the only food we eat we grow ourselves. Iâm sorry but we canât help you.â
âThen do you know anyone here who is looking for help?â
âMummy, whoâs this man?â
âSssh, Philip. Mummyâs talking.â Her snot-face son kept pestering her until she sent him bawling to his room. âUm, you could try the Nicholas property. Itâs the biggest one round here. The owners occasionally hire extra staff.â
âWhereâs that?â
âFour kilometres south. On the other side of the road.â
The property was easy to find. A steel milk drum painted red and used as a mailbox was marked NICHOLAS.
âDad!â a girl in her twenties shouted after answering the doorbell. âThereâs someone here to see you.â
A tall man with a sunburnt neck and face filled the doorway and stared down at Brett. âMorning,â the man said. âWhat can I do for you?â
âEr, well, I was wondering if you have any spare work at the moment. I was passing through the area and some people down the road said you might need someone to help you round the property. Iâm a hard worker and Iâm good with my hands. Iâve got a bit of experience working on a farm so I thought you might ââ
âWhoa, son. Stop. Take a