Victory and the All-Stars Academy by Stacy Gregg Page B

out the horses, Stella and Issie walked back up the driveway to the house to find Avery and then hunt down some food for the pup.
    The two girls were halfway there when a ute, a farm vehicle with a two-seater cab at the front and a flatbed trailer built into the back, pulled up alongside them.
    The ute was so covered in dust, it was hard to know what colour it was underneath all the baked-ondirt. The driver had a tanned arm dangling out of the open window. On his head he wore an Akubra—an Australian stockman’s hat. A roll-up cigarette hung lazily off his bottom lip. His face was fixed in a permanent squint from years of staring across the paddocks in the glare of the harsh Australian sun.
    â€œGidday,” he said flatly. “You the girls who were riding across the paddock back there?”
    Issie and Stella nodded.
    â€œYou didn’t come across a dog, did you?” the man said. “I chased one up the back paddock in that direction yesterday morning and I lost the beggar in the blackberry.”
    Issie looked at Stella, willing her not to say anything. There was something about the way the man asked this question that seemed menacing somehow.
    â€œWhat kind of dog was it?” Issie asked.
    â€œA blue heeler,” the man said. “It’s been worrying my sheep. I found one of them with its throat ripped out two days ago.”
    Then Issie saw the gun. It was lying across the front seat of the ute beside the farmer. The shotgunwas cocked open and a box of ammunition sat next to it.
    â€œWhat are you going to do…if you find it?”
    The farmer’s expression didn’t alter. He paused for a moment. “It’s a sheep-killer. That mongrel needs a bullet through it,” he said matter-of-factly.
    â€œDoesn’t it have owners? Can’t they make it leave the sheep alone?”
    â€œNo owners,” the farmer said. “It must have been dumped by the side of the road and now it’s savaging the sheep.”
    â€œBut it’s not the dog’s fault!” Issie said. “If it was abandoned and hungry, no wonder it’s trying to kill the sheep.”
    The man in the Akubra hat saw the expressions on the girls’ faces, and the way their eyes were drawn to his gun. “You ever seen a sheep with its throat ripped open?” He looked hard at them. “I’m not being cruel. That dog’s got a taste for it now. Once they go bad, they’ve got to be dealt with.”
    He put the ute into gear and revved the engine. “Anyway, if you see it, get someone to give me a call. I’m Digger Murphy. I run the station next to thisjoint. They’ve got my number back at the house.” He gestured up the drive to the villa where Stella and Issie were heading. “Tell them I came by.”
    Digger Murphy stuck his foot down on the accelerator and the ute rolled off again, dust blowing up from beneath its tyres. The farmer’s tanned arm was still hanging out of the car window and he gave them a brief flick with his hand that was obviously meant as a goodbye wave. Then the ute revved up a gear and gained speed as he drove off down the road.
    â€œWhat do we do now?” Stella asked.
    â€œWe go inside and find the dog some sausages,” Issie said.
    â€œShould we still tell Tom?”
    Issie shook her head. “Not now. If he knew about the puppy, he’d have to do the right thing and hand it over to Digger.”
    â€œBut Digger will shoot the puppy. He said so himself.”
    â€œThat’s why Tom can’t know about him,” Issie said. “We have to keep him hidden until we figure this out. Come on, let’s go get some food.”
    The pup was awake and sniffing the air hungrily when the girls returned. “We couldn’t find sausages so we took some steak,” said Stella.
    â€œHe doesn’t mind!” Kate grinned, watching the young dog wolf down the chunks of meat greedily, while Stella