Dark Horse Read Online Free PDF

through to her skin. A veil of water ran off the peak of her cap. Her raincoat couldn’t be expected to hold up against this kind of onslaught.
    Sarah focused all her attention on getting to the hut before nightfall. It was only an hour ride to the mountaintop, but it would be a push in these conditions. They pressed on, upwards, into the rain.
    Water drenched the mountainside for an hour then the rain began to ease. As some kind of taunt, an impish grin from up above, the blue sky returned and the sun shone.
    Sarah felt like she’d climbed from a pool fully clothed. Her jeans were plastered to her legs. Her boots were soaked. Beneath her coat, the thin cotton of her T-shirt clung cold to her chest and back. Droplets trickled down her face and neck. Her bra was like a clammy hand clasped to each breast. She squeezed one eye shut against the glare. It wasn’t any more comfortable for Tansy. Steam rose off Tansy’s neck and shoulders. Her mane dripped. Little black flies began to buzz about.
    Sarah, worried about the state of her phone, reached into her pocket. At pains not to drop it, she hunched and cradled the phone against her belly. Her hands were wrinkled and clumsy. The phone wouldn’t turn on. It was wet inside.
    Tansy’s trudging didn’t pick up pace during that break in the weather, if anything it got heavier and slower. Being able to see clearly again wasn’t such a great thing. Creeks and gullies all over the mountainside were flooding. Water was streaming down from the mountaintop and winding off in every direction. Water bubbled up out of nowhere, from between rocks and out from under rotting logs. Washouts began appearing in the track.
    They came to a section of road that had fissured open and collapsed, leaving a hole the size of a small car. Sarah had to steer Tansy off the track and up the steep bank on the side, her hooves slipping as they picked their way up into the bush. She rode past the washout and back down onto the track again.
    Any more rain, Sarah thought, and it was like the mountaintop would dissolve.
    Sarah started to feel light-headed with hunger. She reached into her backpack and felt around for something to snack on. Cardboard packaging on the mince pies was soggy. Sarah tore it and was pleased to feel the cellophane, relieved that the pies would be dry inside. She fossicked around for a single serve of something. The chocolates were individually wrapped. She ate three peppermint creams. Her battered face hurt just to suck them. Water didn’t need to be meted out – she drank thirstily from her water bottle.
    The sky closed in again. Cold gusts of wind started blowing. Sarah encouraged Tansy into a canter. They needed to make the most of the visibility before it disappeared again. It began to hail. They cantered on. The icy stones stung Sarah’s face. Her sore jaw ached. She lowered her head, using the cap peak to protect her.
    Steady rain replaced the hail. Sarah became too chilled to stay inactive. She climbed off Tansy’s back and led her. As Sarah walked, to keep her mind off their situation, she thought about the better times on the mountain and of some of the more memorable characters she’d guided through the ranges. Horse riding often brought out the best in people. Complete strangers had shown her warmth, told her jokes and confided in her. Age barriers fell away on trail rides. Teenagers giggled with parents and grandmothers. Grandfathers got competitive and took on the younger men.
    Sarah’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a tree crashing to the ground somewhere within the steep grey gum forest beside the track. She calculated how much further they had to go before returning to thoughts of her clients, wondering what they would have made of this adventure, imagining what would have happened if one of her trail rides had descended into this.
    Sarah’s trail rides hadn’t come this high up the mountain. Hangman’s Hut wasn’t one of her destinations. Her