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.‘Keep quiet about the money,’ he muttered to Carlo as the beaten riders began to circle around on their horses, handing over their ten-pound bets and congratulating him.Thomas Crick, true to his colours, remained sulking in the background, a pur- plish blot of humiliation spreading across his face.Spotting him, Lonnie couldn’t resist a jibe.‘Aren’t you going to shake my hand like a gentleman, Mr Crick?’‘Come on over and congratulate our new cham- pion jockey,’ Carlo called out.With all the others observing, Crick had little choice but to ride forward and reluctantly shake the hand of the stable boy who had beaten him fair and square.Only Lonnie heard him say, ‘You’re finished at Golden Acres.I never forgive and I never forget.’ He flung the ten pounds at Lonnie.Throwing his horse around, he nearly knocked Carlo to the ground as he rode off in a mad gallop.‘You can keep it if you let me see Rose again,’ Lonnie called with relish, knowing his proposition had the desired effect of making Crick even angrier.As if Lonnie planned ever to cross Rose Payne’s path again.Not in this lifetime.‘He’s just riffraff,’ Carlo said furiously.‘The likes of Thomas Crick don’t bother me.’ Lonnie slipped Carlo the purse to which he had added the winner’s stake.‘This’ll perk us up.’‘Sweet Jesus!’ Carlo gave a snort of admiration, forgetting in the rush of excitement that he had faith- fully promised his mamma never to take the name of the Lord in vain.He swiftly stashed the money into his pockets.‘We’re loaded.’‘We’ve got more winnings coming.’‘More?’‘Yep, but it’s your turn to collect.Reckon I’ve done most of the work up till now.’The worry of picking up more money overtook Carlo’s mood.There was no sign of his usual sharp efficiency as he floundered about like a landed fish.‘Where’s Bookie? I better catch him while he’s still got our money.Hey, d’ya think I need Bella and the cart to carry home all our cash?’Lonnie smirked.‘I’d like to think so.Uh-oh, more trouble.’Crick’s strapper came striding towards Lonnie.‘Great ride, mate.Nothing personal, but I’ve gotta take the horse from you.Better follow orders or I’ll be in for a roasting.’Lonnie dismounted and handed him the reins.‘Be sure you rub him down well before you put him in the stables for the night.’‘Will do.Be careful.You gave it to the boss so bad he’s spitting blood.’Lonnie nodded and gave the horse a stroke of tranquil assurance.His feelings were mixed as he realised his favourite horse was being led away forever.Pride in their achievement.Regret about his loss.Trident was Crick’s horse when all was said and done.There was nothing he could do.He wondered anxiously if the Glen had bought Trident.Because if they hadn’t, no amount of money offered in the future would.I’ll really miss that horse, he thought sadly.He slung his arm around Carlo.‘Meet me at number four in about half an hour with the cash.We’ll raid Pearl’s stash of grog.I’ll explain everything then.’ He’d already decided he could pretend as well as Pearl that nothing had ever happened between them.‘Keep out of the back lanes and watch your- self.The strapper’s right, I’ve made a few too many enemies here tonight and they know you’re a mate.’HOBBLEItem No.1616Spoil heap.Location unknown.Fragment of a rope used to restrain an animal.Commonly used for a quiet night horse, kept outside overnight on a homestead and used to muster the other horses in the morning.Lonnie should have listened to his own advice.He made his way alone down a street that had been in full life during the race.But in the early hours of the morning the air had turned chill, the windows were latched, the curtains drawn, the onlookers departed.Life’s changes were coming thick and fast for Lonnie and he wanted to do some hard thinking.The win had spelt an abrupt end to his working days at Golden Acres.All his attachments with those detestable Cricks were severed.Good riddance to the lot of them.All being well, Mr Alcock would let him start work soon at the Glen.If Lonnie had been able to traverse distance and time, he would have understood the effect his winning ride was already having on the Crick dynasty; been able to eavesdrop on the dressing-down Crick senior was about to give his son – Thomas skulking into hisfather’s office in the early hours of that same Sunday morning, not expecting his father to be there.Crick senior sitting in a chair by the fire, his head down, in apparent calmness.Holding his palms forward towards to the flames, rubbing them vigorously to warm them, repeating the action in mindless repetition.Thomas removing his greatcoat and walking despondently towards the warmth of the fire.Standing by his father’s chair.Breaking the silence that was hanging like a nerve end between them.‘How shall I face all my friends tomorrow?’His father looking up in disgust and opening his mouth in one long and seething complaint.‘Your friends? Does the whole world revolve around you? Only an imbecile loses a rigged, unlosable race to a half-wit kid from the slums! I told everyone I know of importance to back you.Henry Payne lost a small fortune.And he put more on you minutes before the off.You’ve ruined our reputation.Our credibility’s gone.No one in Melbourne will want to deal with us.All because of your blindness and stupidity.And to top it all off, you let me sell Trident to the Alcocks for a pittance.’Thomas uttering a few miserable words in self- defence: ‘I tried to stop you selling, you know I did.’‘You tried to stop me selling a nag for one hundred guineas.That would have been a good price for a nag.Only it wasn’t a nag, was it? It’s the horse who beat our champion.And you were too stupid to see.You wouldn’t know a champion from a night horse.’ His ranting temper moving to a crescendo: ‘You dare call yourself a son of mine! Get out of my sight!’If only Lonnie could have witnessed this carry-on for himself.But the reality was he was still making his way down the street towards Pearl’s, and by this time feeling mighty proud of himself.One thing was for sure, his dream of becoming a professional jockey had taken a giant leap forward.Those riders were no amateurs.They were all first-class horsemen and gentlemen [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]