Buckley's Chance (A Bindarra Creek Romance #13)

By Noelle Clark

'Chances were he’d never find a real gem until he learned how to dig deeper'.
Dave Buckley is heading off on a road trip to nowhere, licking his wounds and trying to rebuild his life.
Charlie Moore is stuck in a dead end job, but toughs it out because she knows how much she is needed.
Dave and Charlie are both coming to terms with loss and sadness.
In the little town of Bindarra Creek, their lives crash into each other, and they find in their fledgling friendship a rapport, a warmth that they both desperately seek.
This is the tale of two young people alone in the world. The chances of them meeting would have been non-existent if it hadn’t been for one thing. Is Charlie’s friend Cecil watching over her, guiding her life, steering her towards happiness? If that’s so, Cecil has his work cut out for him, because both Charlie and Dave are stubborn and neither are ready for the complications that surround them.
There are only two chances that Dave and Charlie will solve the riddle of Cecil Crawford’s secret and end up finding riches beyond their dreams—Buckley’s and none.
Book 13 in the best selling 'Bindarra Creek Romance' series of rural romances set in a small Australian town.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Noelle Clark
• Release date: Jul 29, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370125388

Noelle Clark

Noelle Clark is an Australian author of contemporary romance novels, rural romance, and historical fiction. Her books weave romance, intrigue, and adventure into colourful and interesting settings. They feature characters who deal with love and loss; and who experience the often difficult facets of life, such as forgiveness and redemption. Noelle lives in a secluded cottage in sunny Queensland, Australia. She has two grown up children and four young grandchildren. When Noelle's not writing and travelling, she enjoys growing her own organic vegetables and herbs, photography, playing guitar, and sketching.

Book preview

Buckley’s Chance

A Bindarra Creek Romance

NOELLE CLARK

Stop Press Publishing

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2016 Noelle Clark

All rights reserved.

First E-book Publication: 29 July 2016

First Print Publication: 29 July 2016

Cover design by Annie Seaton

Edited by Susanne Bellamy

Formatted for publication by Business Communications Management

All cover art copyright © 2016 by Stop Press Publishing/Noelle Clark Books

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher Stop Press Publishing, or the author, Noelle Clark. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

DEDICATION

To my father, Matt Dillon, who instilled in me at a very young age, the love of fossicking. He and I spent all my school holidays ‘rock hunting’. We sieved for garnets at Proston, in Queensland, and joined a lapidary club where I was taught how to cut cabochons and polish gemstones. Dad also bought me my very first tumbler when I was about twelve.

I’m thrilled that Andy, my grandson, now has a love of fossicking. It truly is a lifelong hobby.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My heartfelt thanks go to all the authors of the Bindarra Creek Romance stories, and especially to the group’s founder and the brains behind the project – S.E. Gilchrist.

I am indebted to my editor, Susanne Bellamy, who is also one of the Bindarra Creek Authors, for her wonderful insight and editing skills; to Duncan Carling-Rodgers for helping me with the final publishing; to my beta reader, Robyn; and to my writing buddies who kept me motivated and sane.

Special thanks to my grandson Andy, who accompanied me on a road trip to the New England area of New South Wales for research. At just five years old, Andy worked hard at fossicking for sapphires in Inverell and Glen Innes. We found some stunning gems, and got a real taste of what my characters went through.

Thanks to my family for all their support.

A Bindarra Creek Romance

Drama, intrigue, suspense, adventure and honest, country goodness – welcome to Bindarra Creek where life and love in a small country town has never been more challenging.

Buckley’s Chance

(Book 13 in the Bindarra Creek Romance Series)

Dave Buckley is heading off on a road trip to nowhere, licking his wounds and trying to rebuild his life.

Charlie Moore is stuck in a dead end job, but toughs it out because she knows how much she is needed.

Dave and Charlie are both coming to terms with loss and sadness.

In the little town of Bindarra Creek, their lives crash into each other, and they find in their fledgling friendship a rapport, a warmth that they both desperately seek.

This is the tale of two young people alone in the world. The chances of them meeting would have been non-existent if it hadn’t been for one thing. Is Charlie’s friend Cecil watching over her, guiding her life, steering her towards happiness? If that’s so, Cecil has his work cut out for him, because both Charlie and Dave are stubborn and neither are ready for the complications that surround them.

There are only two chances that Dave and Charlie will solve the riddle of Cecil Crawford’s secret and end up finding riches beyond their dreams—Buckley’s and none.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Map of Bindarra Creek

About The Author

About The Bindarra Creek Series

CHAPTER 1

Dave Buckley kept one hand on the steering wheel while he used the other to roll down the window of his Hilux dual-cab utility, then rested an elbow on the sill. Hot, dry air blasted in from the open farmland flanking each side of the highway, along with a rush of road noise. He swore, then raised the window again and turned the air con fan higher. He ran a gritty hand over his face, his fingers tangling in his normally well-trimmed, but now long and scruffy beard. God, how he craved a long, cool shower.

He glanced at the odometer and mentally calculated how far he’d driven. Nine hundred and twenty kilometres in nine hours. No wonder he felt tired. But he was anxious to get where he was going. Wherever that was. He uttered a hollow laugh. Some random lyrics from a Cold Chisel song began an earworm…something about hurrying to get somewhere but no place in particular.

A sign on the side of the Leichhardt Highway caught his eye. Goondiwindi – Home of Gunsynd - 40 kms.

Dave reached over and patted Jett, his six-year-old kelpie, who sat staring out the window, panting, his tongue lolling and droplets of spit dangling from the end of it.

Won’t be long now, mate.

Jett smiled in that funny way dogs do, and his tail flapped against the upholstery.

Dave blinked and tried to concentrate on the long, straight road. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d rounded a bend or driven over a hill. It had been flat like this since leaving Emerald. He flicked a glance at the view out the left window, then the right. Like golden shag-pile carpet, the vast expanse of paddocks on either side of the road made the strip of bitumen stand out like a giant black zipper. Heads of wheat shimmered in the early afternoon heat. A mirage glistened and shivered above the crops, blurring the merger of sky and earth. He wished he could pull over and stare at the amazing vista, but he knew if he stopped he’d probably fall asleep.

We’ll be in Goondiwindi in twenty minutes, mate. Can you hang on till then?

Jett stood, turned a complete circle, then sat down again and rested his muzzle on Dave’s thigh.

Dave dropped a hand onto the dog’s glossy black coat. If it wasn’t for Jett, he mused, he’d be all alone. All day he’d managed to banish thoughts of Natalie from his mind, instead focusing all his attention on the road. Every day since she’d walked out on him, he’d been consumed with an onslaught of unfamiliar emotions. When she’d first told him she was leaving him for that bastard Cole, it had felt like a miner’s pick had been driven right through his heart.

He swallowed, grimacing at the sandpaper feel of his throat, recognizing the taste of bitterness that had taken residence in his mouth the moment Natalie revealed that she and Cole had been having an affair for nearly a year. He shook his head. Why hadn’t he noticed? No matter how many times he’d rehashed it all in his mind, he was still unable to comprehend that he’d missed the signs that she wasn’t happy.

He swore under his breath, angry with himself for still feeling this way after three months. Time to let it go, Dave. He was still a few years off turning thirty. Surely he’d one day find a girl worthy of his love—one who he could trust. Someone who would return his love.

Something in the distance caught his attention. Something other than the monotonous black stripe that filled his windscreen and rearview mirror. He stared at the dot, impatient to be close enough to decipher its message. Soon a familiar-looking green and yellow billboard appeared. It was shabby and faded, but for Dave it was like an oasis in the desert to a thirsty man. A blessed relief, distracting him from the ugly thoughts that an idle mind let slip through.

He slowed. Only two more kilometres to the BP roadhouse. Excitement grew. He ran a thick tongue over dry lips as thoughts of an ice cold Coke almost made him drool.

He spotted the driveway and turned into the service station, cut the engine, and attached a lead to Jett’s collar before opening the door.

Come on, mate.

Jett jumped from the cab and strained against the lead, heading for a low shrub at the edge of the unsealed car park. Dave let go of the lead and Jett ran off to lift his leg on the bush, a look of utter relief on his face. Dave reached behind the seat of the twin cab and produced a stainless steel bowl, then walked over to the tap on the corner of the service station building. He filled Jett’s bowl and whistled. Jett bounded over.

Here ye go, old fella.

Jett lapped thirstily at the water.

He ruffled the dog’s ears before tying him to the ute’s bullbar, then unscrewed the fuel cap and filled the truck with diesel from the pump. A few minutes later, he replaced the cap and turned to Jett.

Be back soon.

Dave ambled across to the bathroom. When he’d finished, he went into the servo café and bought a pie, a Coke, and a couple of bottles of iced water. He sat down on a stool at the counter and ate the pie in about four bites. Apart from a couple of roadside pee stops, this was his first break since leaving Emerald at day break.

How far are ya headed?

Dave looked up at the man behind the counter.

Not sure. How far to Goondiwindi?

You’re there, mate. Another two minutes and you’d be in the main street.

Dave wiped the perspiration from his brow.

That pie was good. Think I’ll have another one. He handed over a ten dollar bill, took a long swig of Coke and burped loudly. Geez, it’s bloody hot here. I headed south to get away from the heat.

The man placed a pie from the oven into a brown paper bag and handed it to Dave.

You should head up to the New England area. Still hot, but a bloody sight cooler than here. The man picked up a bi-fold brochure from the counter top. Here’s a map. Some nice places up there around Inverell and Bindarra Creek.

Dave took the map, opened it out flat, and studied it. When he’d set out early that morning, he had a vague notion of exploring the gem fields of New South Wales. Places he’d heard about all his life, but not yet been to. Lightning Ridge, home of the black opal, White Cliffs, and other well-known fossicking areas. But it was high summer and it was nothing for those outback, treeless places to have fifty degree days. And that was in the shade.

Inverell. That rang a bell. He squinted and peered at the map, then placed the tip of his finger on Inverell.

The man returned and tossed a few more brochures on the counter next to Dave.

You might like these too.

Dave glanced at them. The top one caught his interest. Fossicker’s Way. He picked up the brochure and inspected the photo of a man holding a sieve full of stones. Inverell sapphires were world renowned. How he’d like to find a couple of those little blue beauties. Something inside him shifted. It was as if the gaping hole in his guts changed shape. It felt a bit like excitement, the promise of purpose. Like he had a glimpse of something so much more inspiring than the abyss of uncertainty he’d endured of late.

Without taking his eyes off the brochure, he slid off the stool, absentmindedly grabbed the packet containing the pie, and turned to head out the door.

You forgot your water.

Dave spun around. The man behind the counter grinned at him, showing gums where there should have been teeth.

How far to this? Dave jabbed a finger at the map. To Bindarra Creek?

The man thought for a moment. ’Bout three hours, I s’pose. He ran the back of his hand over his nose and sniffed noisily. Not much there though. No work, neither. I heard the town’s shutting down.

Dave picked up the two bottles of water with one hand.

You don’t say. He glanced up from the brochure and grinned back at the man. The skin on his face burned and he realised it was the first time he’d smiled for days. Sounds perfect.

He strode outside, untied Jett, and opened the door for the dog to jump up into the cab. Then he retrieved the dog’s water bowl before following him in. The engine roared to life. Dave tore open the brown paper bag to expose the pie and set it on the seat.

Might be a bit hot, mate.

The dog’s eyes widened, then he attacked the pie. It was gone in an instant.

Dave pulled out onto the highway and grinned.

We’re off to Bindarra Creek, mate.

CHAPTER 2

Charlie Moore stifled a yawn and glanced at the clock. A sigh escaped her lips. Another two hours until she could close the Centrelink office and go home.

She moved from behind the counter and began to tidy the pile of magazines and newspapers on the small coffee table in the waiting room. Not that they were untidy. No one had been in here today to mess them up. Still, it was something to do to pass the time.

She started humming a tune as she replenished the pockets of forms and ensured all the pens worked on the narrow counter at the end of the room.

Friday afternoon. At last. A ripple of excitement made itself felt. She had great plans for the weekend. Okay, so she did the same things every weekend, but it still felt like a fresh adventure every time. Maybe this would be the weekend that would change her life. It was only a matter of time. She firmly believed that. The signs were all there. She just needed to persevere, to keep on looking.

Charlie busied herself by deleting unwanted or redundant emails from her inbox, then clicked on a few links to sites that interested her. When she finally glanced at the clock again she was relieved to see that there were only five more minutes until closing time.

The glass door burst open and an elderly woman, huffing and puffing as though she’d just run a marathon, burst into the room. As soon as her eyes settled on Charlie, relief washed over her pale cheeks and she seemed to crumple.

Mrs. Carmody. Whatever is wrong?

Charlie pulled over a chair and helped the old lady to sit down.

Oh Charlie. I need help. I…I thought I’d be too late to catch you. I…

Charlie leaned forward and took hold of Mrs. Carmody’s bony hand.

Are you ill? Will I call an ambulance?

Tears welled in Mrs. Carmody’s pale blue eyes, threatening to spill over the soft, loose skin. Charlie leaned over and grabbed some tissues from the box on the counter and handed them to her.

Mrs. Carmody dabbed at her eyes with a trembling hand. Breaths shuddered and rattled from her chest. She lifted rheumy eyes, wide and anxious, to Charlie’s.

"I…I can’t get my