Hope's Road Read Free Page A

round trip on foot.
    Life was grand and he didn’t want no other bugger disturbing him. He got all the entertainment he required through the scope on his rifle and didn’t need any prick within a bull’s roar of his place. And if they came, well, he was ready. He had his gun, his dogs and his temper. That usually got rid of even the most persistent of bastards.

Chapter 3
    â€˜Yoo-hoo! Anybody home?’ A sponge cake clasped in an arthritic hand appeared around the doorway. ‘Ahhh . . . there you are! Just thought I’d bake a wee little sponge to welcome you as the newest member of staff.’ A vision in crocheted red cardigan, cream Peter Pan collared shirt and tweed skirt stood before him.
    The vision moved closer, too close, causing him to scoot his chair back towards the filing cabinet. Clunk! His head hit a protruding drawer. Damn.
    In the small radio room of the shared offices of the Department of Conservation and Lake Grace Ambulance Station there was barely room to stand up.
    â€˜Don’t go causing yourself injury now. We’ve lobbied those blessed politicians long and hard to get you here. Last thing we need is a WorkCover claim in your first few months! Oh, I’m forgetting my manners. Beatrice Parker is my name, and baking this cake is my game.’ She chuckled, her beady little blackcurrant eyes twinkling. ‘I love a good rhyme, don’t you? Mmm . . . anyway, best keep tracking. Can’t waste time yakking.’ She chuckled again. ‘Enjoy your day, Mr . . . ?’
    â€˜Hunter. Travis Hunter.’ He finally found his voice, and tried to scramble to his feet, putting out a hand as he did so. ‘Nice to meet you too, Mrs Parker,’ and promptly tripped over the four-pronged walking stick standing to attention in front of its tiny owner.
    â€˜Goodness, boy! You’re the best they had to send us? Your balance is atrocious. I’m hoping your kiss of life is better – I’d reckon you’d give a good one, eh?’ Squinting black eyes swept from the tips of his size-12 workboots to the top of his brown hair.
    Trav didn’t know what to say, but he now knew what it must feel like to be a helpless moth tacked to a pin-board. She must have him confused with the new ambulance officer. He was a wild-dog trapper. He opened his mouth to correct the woman but took another glance at the sponge. It was a beauty and looked just like the ones his mother used to make. Sweet icing smothered the top while cream and jam spilled from its middle. And he hadn’t had his breakfast. ‘Ah . . . I’m not sure, Mrs Parker, but I’ve never had any complaints in the past.’
    â€˜I’ll bet you haven’t. Can’t say I’d be avoiding those lips of yours if I were a generation or two younger. Anyhow, best be away and on with today!’
    He could have sworn she winked before placing the sponge in his hands, grabbing the walking stick and clumping out the door. He stood there looking down at the cake, feeling guilty. He should have owned up.
    He normally steered clear of town, which explained Mrs Parker’s mistake – how could she know which of the strange men in the offices was him and which was the new ambo? He kept himself to himself. But he had had a backlog of reports to complete for the Department of Conservation and he didn’t have or want to have a computer at home.
    â€˜And by the way . . .’ The blackcurrants were back. ‘Have you a family, Mr Hunter?’
    Trav winced. ‘One boy, Mrs Parker.’
    â€˜A wife?’
    â€˜No, Mrs Parker.’
    â€˜She leave you?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Why?’
    Christ, she was persistent. Best just say it, once and for all. ‘Couldn’t handle responsibility.’ Yeah, like he could? What a farce.
    â€˜Just like my Donald. He left too.’ A wrinkled hand swept along her temple