The Night They Stormed Eureka Read Free

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    ‘You can only fire that pistol once, can’t you? So you can only shoot one of us. And if you shoot me then this man —’ she gestured to little Mr Puddleham ‘— can pullyou off your horse and call the police. And if I duck and you miss me,’ she added, ‘then we’ll all drag you off your horse and sit on you till the police come.’
    The gasp behind her made her wonder if either of the Puddlehams could help carry out her threat. She didn’t know whether she could do it either. But maybe the bluff would work.
    Mrs Puddleham gave a moan and slumped on her husband’s shoulders, her big arms around his skinny neck. The small man staggered, but kept his feet.
    The bushranger chuckled again. ‘I ain’t worried by the police. These two might escape, I grant you. But you’d be dead.’
    Sam kept her eye on the pistol. It wavered when he laughed.
    She chose the most outrageous claim she could think of.
    ‘Bet I could beat you in a fight.’
    ‘What?’ The chuckle grew to a roar of laughter. The pistol wavered again.
    Sam leaped. Her fingers grasped the pistol for a second, then slipped away as the man jerked his hand up.
    The horse reared.
    ‘Whoa, Bessie!’ The rider gripped the saddle with his legs. A shot rang out as he jerked the trigger, trying to keep his balance.
    ‘Run!’ shrieked Sam.
    Mrs Puddleham suddenly stood straight again, miraculously no longer cowering. She hitched up her skirts, showing thick legs in black stockings and men’sboots a size too large for her, and galloped into the trees. The little man sprinted after her.
    The bushranger had his horse back under control now. He glared down at Sam. ‘Look what you’ve just cost me. An’ by the look o’ your rags you ain’t got tuppence to rub together.’
    Sam glanced down at her jeans. They were the old ones she wore after school. And Gavin must have torn her shirt last night. ‘They left the wheelbarrow. You can steal that. Every horse needs a wheelbarrow.’
    The bushranger made a snuffling sound under his handkerchief. He was trying not to laugh. He sounded even more like Nick now. She felt the terror slowly wash away.
    ‘Can’t you think of something better to do? Like working for a living?’
    The laughter stopped. The blue eyes grew hard above the handkerchief. ‘And what do you know about it, brat? You ever been chained to the wheel? Let’s see your back, eh? You got any scars? You ever been lashed till yer ribs show white? They stole seven years of my life and gave me hell. So maybe I’ll give the world a little hell in return.’
    Sam clenched her fists. She wouldn’t let him scare her now. ‘I know enough, even if I don’t have scars on my back. And those two didn’t look like they’ve ever taken anything from anyone. Or hurt anyone, either.’
    The bushranger hesitated.
    Sam reached up and stroked the horse’s nose. It whickered at her and mumbled at her fingers with his thickvelvety lips. Mum had let her have riding lessons, years ago, before …
    No, she wouldn’t think of Mum. This was a new story, a story where she was triumphant.
    ‘I know what it’s like,’ she said more quietly. ‘You want to hurt back. But you need to pick your target. Besides,’ she added practically, ‘if you only hold up rich-looking people you’ll get more money with less chance of being caught.’
    ‘I should give you a walloping, that’s what I should do. A bit of spit and wind standing there arguing with a bushranger.’
    The rider raised his pistol again. But this time it was a salute, not a threat. ‘Well done, lad,’ he said quietly. ‘I hope they’s proper grateful.’
    He jigged the horse with his knees. The horse snorted again, then cantered away along the track.
    Lad?
    Sam glanced down at her jeans and sneakers, then put her hand up to her short hair.
    ‘I’m a girl, you idiot!’ she yelled.
    But the bushranger had gone.

Chapter 3
    ‘He didn’t hurt you none?’
    ‘Girl!’
    The Puddlehams spoke at the