BooksBarbecue
Back Dead Horse Gap Save as PDF
Chapters (58)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  3. DEDICATION
  4. Prologue
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-one
  26. Twenty-two
  27. Twenty-three
  28. Twenty-four
  29. Twenty-five
  30. Twenty-six
  31. Twenty-seven
  32. Twenty-eight
  33. Twenty-nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-one
  36. Thirty-two
  37. Thirty-three
  38. Thirty-four
  39. Thirty-five
  40. Thirty-six
  41. Thirty-seven
  42. Thirty-eight
  43. Thirty-nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-one
  46. Forty-two
  47. Forty-three
  48. Forty-four
  49. Forty-five
  50. Forty-six
  51. Forty-seven
  52. Forty-eight
  53. Forty-nine
  54. Fifty
  55. Fifty-one
  56. Fifty-two
  57. Fifty-three
  58. Acknowledgements

A short while later, Flowers pulled off the road at Dead Horse Gap, the highest point on the Alpine Way. A black four-wheel drive with numberplates that read CAB was parked close to the start of the track. Figuring they were Cate’s initials, Flowers pulled on his beanie, grabbed his snowshoes and locked the car door. He set the snowshoes on the ground, then slid his right boot into the shoe. ‘All the way in,’ he muttered, recalling the surfie dude from the rental shop’s instructions. Once he had the first shoe on, he leaned over and did up the bindings. The wide plastic frame of the shoes distributed his weight equally over the snow when he took his first few steps.

A wooden sign confirmed this was the beginning of the Cascade Hut Trail. A second signpost underneath said: Buchanan Hut 500 metres, Cascade Hut 10 kilometres. Breathing a sigh of relief that Cate wasn’t working at Cascade Hut, Flowers set off, tentatively at first, then moving faster once he gained confidence.

The trail was wider than he’d imagined, and he began to enjoy the walk. The view across the valley was amazing, the alpine air invigorating. He picked up his pace a little, finding his rhythm. Maybe he could get into this.

Further on, he came to a fork in the track. Cascade Trail continued following the ridge line, while a narrower trail branched off to the left, another wooden sign pointing the way to Buchanan Hut. The smaller trail was less exposed, bordered on both sides by ancient snow gums. Flowers shuffled along in his snowshoes, wondering what the Homicide boys would say if they could see him now.

The first sign that he was nearing Buchanan Hut was the smell of smoke tainting the pristine air. He rounded a bend, and the hut came into view. The size of a single garage, it was a wooden structure with an iron roof. Smoke billowed from the chimney. Cross-country skis and poles, and several empty chaff bags, lay on the ground nearby.

Before he had a chance to knock, the door opened and Cate Buchanan stood before him, her blunt-cut fringe short enough to show off her eyebrows.

‘Aunt Wendy called and said the mint mocha detective might show up.’ Her gaze dropped to his snowshoes then tracked back up to his face. ‘You’re keen,’ she said, arching one bold eyebrow.

‘I don’t know if you could call me keen,’ he said, smiling as she lowered the eyebrow. He gave her the once over in return. ‘We’re based in Thredbo. It’s five minutes away, and I wanted to see the hut.’

She stared at him long enough for him to notice the family resemblance. Wendy would have looked a lot like Cate when she was younger.