Wanted Dead Read Online Free PDF

face with irregular features that all looked as though they might have been borrowed from different people. Riley guessed that the blood of several races ran through the girl’s veins. But where had he seen her before? In fact he couldn’t have. She must have simply borne some resemblance to someone he had known. He wondered whether she was the old man’s daughter. She must have been born very late in his life if she were, but then he looked that sort of man.
    She was studying him curiously as she laid down the plate and placed a knife and fork on either side.
    â€œDid you want tea?” she asked and Riley recognised again the Australian accent, but it didn’t sound so badly coming from her.
    â€œYes please,” said Riley. “And, ah, the gentleman said you could let me have a couple of pounds of birdshot.”
    â€œAll right,” said the girl.
    But she showed no inclination to go and get the shot. She stood by Riley’s barrel and watched as he cut up his mutton.
    â€œJimmy Grant, aren’t you?”
    â€œYes,” said Riley, wishing she’d go away. Not that he was averse to attractive young women, but he didn’t like being watched while he ate. It made him nervous.
    â€œBeen out long?”
    â€œSix weeks.”
    â€œGood journey out?”
    â€œHorrible.”
    â€œHow long was the trip?”
    â€œFive months.”
    â€œNot bad,” said the girl: “It took you nine months to come out, didn’t it Dad?”
    â€œYairs,” came the voice of the old man.
    â€œI came in a steamer,” ventured Riley.
    â€œI’d like to make a trip like that,” said the girl. “I was born out here you see,” she added unnecessarily.
    Riley chewed away at his mutton.
    â€œI’d better get your tea,” said the girl.
    â€œThank you,” said Riley, but she showed no immediate intention of moving.
    A blow-fly made several determined efforts to land on Riley’s plate. He waved it away irritably. The country seemed full of these noisome creatures, these and cicadas and kookaburras.
    â€œWhat are you doing out here?” asked the girl with that direct frankness that Riley was finding as common in Australia as the blow-flies, cicadas and kookaburras.
    â€œLooking for gold,” he said promptly.
    â€œYes,” said the girl, rather sadly Riley thought. “Everybody is.”
    She went away then and brought him his tea and a couple of pounds of birdshot wrapped up in newspaper.
    â€œStaying around here long?” she asked.
    â€œDon’t really know,” said Riley vaguely.
    â€œThere’ll be a dance on here on Saturday night if you’re still around this way.”
    â€œOh,” said Riley, interestedly he hoped. He didn’t know whether he was receiving an invitation or just being given a piece of information. He finished his mutton and started on his potatoes, carefully cutting them into little squares.
    â€œGoing to settle down permanently out here?” she asked.
    â€œNo!” said Riley. “That is, I really don’t know.”
    â€œI don’t blame you,” said the girl. “It’s pretty dull.”
    She waited while Riley finished his potatoes and drank his tea, then charged him three and sixpence for the meal and the birdshot.
    â€œI might see you on Saturday then?” she said as Riley left.
    â€œEr, yes, I daresay,” said Riley. The girl must see few strangers out here, he thought, in fact it would be a hell of a life for a young girl. She was rather nice too, with that long, black hair that a girl ought to have. But women were outside the scheme for the moment, he told himself as he mounted his horse and rode away from the shanty. Quite outside the scheme of things.
    If he hadn’t seen the path leading up to the ridge he would never have gone looking for the cave, Riley told himself irritably. But then if he hadn’t been fool enough to go