kicked me in the shin.” Her house manager lifted her trouser pants to show a blossoming bruise.
“Who? Lullu?” Mina called out.
“Ja. Boesman got out. She took off like a springhaas,” Becky hissed and rubbed the wounded area on her lower leg.
Mina’s legs buckled. That bloody child, out in this storm.
A strong hand grabbed her arm and kept her steady. Mina looked up and found Ray starring at Becky.
“Which direction?” His voice held a stern don’t-fuck-with-me tone so unlike the injured dog who’d sat opposite her in Vestra’s office.
“North, toward the nature reserve.” Becky pointed behind her, an odd smirk flashing across her face before it turned to a frown.
Mina tugged free of his grip and made to go.
“I’m coming too.” Ray followed her.
She was about to shut him down and put him in his place, but she couldn’t do it alone. Ben was needed down here, and …
“She’s ours,” he said simply, taking her hand in his. “We have no time to waste.”
They made their way up to the house where Mina pulled out three waterproof windbreakers, a towel, and a pair of torches from the scullery closet.
“We’ll go in the bakkie.” She pointed for them to retreat back into the storm.
Tension bunched in his shoulders. Nerves twisted his gut. Mina sped down the old path, the vehicle’s lights on bright. Her chest began to ache and her breathing become painful. Damn it, she’d forgotten to grab her inhaler. Rain pelted the frantic wipers as they scoured the glass from left to right, unable to clear the windscreen.
“Could she have gotten this far away from home?” Ray asked as he bounced around in his seat.
“I’d hoped not. There might be one place they’d both head if Boesman ran too far from the stables.”
Ray glanced at Mina, then back at the road ahead. He leaned forward and squinted. “Going to tell me?”
“The old farmhouse. It’s in the direction she ran off.”
It felt like an eternity before the bakkie’s lights landed on dilapidated stone walls and a rusted tinned roof. Mina brought the car to a skidding halt and they both jumped out, torches shining brightly, rain beating down.
“Lullu!” they called out simultaneously.
Mina’s head jerked toward him. Her eyes narrowed before she turned and led him through a door-less entrance as she called again, “Lullu.”
“Mommy!” came a strained cry.
Mina and Ray sprinted toward the far end of the old stone building. Ray’s breath caught in his throat as his torchlight fell on a petite, shivering, drenched frame and a horse standing in the corner of the dilapidated farm house.
“Blerrie hell. I told you to stay put.” Mina sped toward the girl, wrapped the large towel around her daughter, and rubbed down her body.
“Come. Let’s go before this storm gets worse and the roof decides to fly off as well.” Mina said.
“I’m not leaving Boesman!” Lullu pushed her mother away and wrapped her skinny arms around the gelding’s neck
“Lullu Marie van der Westhuizen! For fuck’s sake.” Mina stomped her foot. The horse jumped and whinnied.
“Shh, boy. It’s okay,” Lullu calmed him.
Ray stood frozen. “You gave her ma’s name?” He didn’t mean to say it out loud.
Mina turned on him, and from the splintered bolts of light proffered by the angry colliding clouds above, he could see she was not impressed.
“Why’d you kick Becky?” Mina turned back to their daughter who had taken the towel she’d used to dry her a few moments earlier and was now wiping down the horse.
“I didn’t even see Becky. I woke up, and you were gone, then I heard Boesman and ran to help him.” Lullu raised her head indignantly.
A sharp bolt of light cut through the dark before a thundering blast reverberated across the earth. The horse whinnied and reared. The whites of his eyes grew larger than saucers. Ray’s instinct was to pull the girls away, but Lullu barely flinched and reached out. The horse calmed and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Toe maar, Boesie; it’ll be okay. I won’t leave you.” She gave her mother a determined stare.
Ray snapped out of his shock. Clearly, the girl would not dessert her horse, and knowing Mina, she’d fight tooth and nail to get her way.
“Look. I reckon the old folks knew how to build. We’re safer in here until the storm passes. I also think out in this weather, the horse might hurt himself. There’s an old chair in the hallway I can break up for firewood. We can wait the worst of the weather