by Lucy Walker
Master of Ransome
Lucy Walker
Copyright © The Estate of Lucy Walker 2020
This edition first published 2020 by Wyndham Books
(Wyndham Media Ltd)
27, Old Gloucester Street, London WC1N 3AX
First published 1958
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The author has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, organisations and events are a product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organisations and events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.
Cover artwork images © Roman Samborskyi / bmphotographer (Shutterstock)
Cover artwork design © Wyndham Media Ltd
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Books by Lucy Walker
from Wyndham Books
The Call of the Pines
Reaching for the Stars
The River is Down
Girl Alone
The One Who Kisses
The Ranger in the Hills
Come Home, Dear
Love in a Cloud
Home at Sundown
Master of Ransome
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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
Books by Lucy Walker
Chapter One
Sara Brent stirred in her comfortable slung seat in the Dakota plane. The girl in front of her sat up to adjust her safety belt ready for landing, and once again Sara could see the neat golden curls in a pretty line under the other’s close-fitting hat. Sara wished those golden curls didn’t disturb her so much. They did, not so much from envy, though they were so neat and beautiful envy might well have been justified, but because Sara had met their owner before. She had met Julia Camden in the offices of the Camden Pastoral Company in Adelaide where Sara had lately been working as a typist to Clifford Camden, business manager of the Company which controlled several properties in the north of Australia.
Sara herself had come to Australia as a typist with a Trade Commission from the United Kingdom. With her parents’ consent she had transferred to the Camden Pastoral Company to gain experience in the main occupation of the country.
Because of her position in this firm Sara could not help knowing that Miss Julia Camden, beautiful and sophisticated member of the big grazing family of Camden, was someone exceptionally selfish.
Now that Sara had been sent to work as a kind of organising secretary to the Camden family on their big station north of the twenty-sixth parallel she was disturbed to find Julia on the same plane as herself. If Julia was also bound for the station then life might prove just a little bit difficult.
To begin with, Sara was nervous of Julia’s autocratic and condescending air, as she had sensed it when they had met for a brief moment in Clifford Camden’s office in the city.
How big was a station homestead, Sara wondered? The property covered a million acres, she knew that. But did that mean the homestead was big enough to allow one to live at close quarters with Julia Camden … and be happy?
And ought she to make herself known to the other girl?
She decided not. If Julia could forget she had ever met Sara, then Sara could also have regrettable holes in her own memory.
She fingered the clasp of her safety belt as she felt the faint upsurge of stomach muscles and knew they were losing height preparatory to landing.
This is it, she thought, and closed her eyes. She knew the most dangerous moments in flying were at the times of taking-off and landing. She wished that graziers and station owners didn’t do everything by air these days. If God had meant secretaries to fly he would have given them wings surely. Sara had only been in a plane once before and she was still not very brave about it.
The plane was running along the tarmac now and Sara heaved a sigh of relief. Oh, how good and kind and beloved was the earth! Even if it was brown sun-dried earth with nothing green about it except a few eucalyptus standing in forlorn clumps in the distance.
Sara undid her safety belt and stood up to take her case from the luggage rack.
‘Good trip, wasn’t it?’ said the air hostess pleasantly.
Her smile took in both Julia Camden and the dark-haired girl behind her. Julia did not see the smile, or was not interested, so Sara returned it pleasantly. When Sara smiled her face showed a merry elfin quality. She didn’t know it but quite a lot of people looked at her twice. She had shining dark hair with just a hint of natural wave. It curled to her cheek below her high cheek-bones. This and the wide-set eyes and small curled fringe gave her the elfin touch. These ‒ and a hint of the retroussé about her nose. This latter feature Sara deeply regretted and longed for a nice Grecian nose like Julia’s. Her mother and father who were in England had nice long aristocratic noses. Why, Sara wondered, had she taken after an aunt instead of her mother?
‘You’ve made us very comfortable,’ Sara said to the air hostess. ‘Thank you.’
‘Oh, don’t thank me,’ the hostess replied. ‘You weren’t any trouble. Quite an old hand at flying. I can see that.’
Sara smiled wanly.
‘I like mother earth best,’ she admitted. She didn’t have any touch of the elf now. Her eyes were serious and immediately the merry quality gave way to one of earnest endeavour. Anyone interested in Sara as a personality would have marvelled at the way her firm little mouth and chin argued the point with her nose, her wide grey eyes and the pretty page-boy haircut.
She was twenty years old but only looked that when her mouth and not her eyes was in control of the situation.
The hostess glanced at Sara’s luggage label.
‘You’re going to Ransome station?’ she said. She pointed through the window. ‘There’s the station wagon waiting for you the other side of the wire fence.’ Her smile deepened. ‘That’s Andy Patterson at the wheel. You’re about to begin the most hazardous part of your journey now.’
&
nbsp; ‘Goodness me. Does he drive like that?’ asked Sara.
‘And how! Never mind, you’ll get into the safety zone again when you get in the Camden plane. There’s nothing you can hit in the air except a bird.’
‘How far do we drive before we get the Camden plane?’
‘It’s about five miles out into the country. They use private land, out from the town.’
Julia Camden, in front, had got her case down from the luggage rack.
‘Oh, look here,’ she said, turning to the hostess. ‘Give me a hand with this thing, will you? ’Pon my word, these spaces between seats are the limit. I don’t know why you don’t use a Convair or Constellation on these runs …’
‘We’re waiting for a jet liner,’ the air hostess said agreeably. ‘I don’t suppose the Company could afford both.’
‘Jet liner on this run?’ said a young man waiting for both Sara and Julia to move out of the aisle. ‘That’ll be the day!’
Julia gave him a withering stare and the young man winked at the air hostess. Sara caught just the edge of it and could not help smiling.
‘May I?’ he said to Sara, lifting his hat with one hand and taking her case with the other.
‘Oh, thank you so much. That is kind of you.’
He was a nice young man and Sara felt oddly surprised and pleased that he had taken her case and not Julia’s.
‘I think I go over to that station wagon …’ Sara said uncertainly to her escort. ‘I was told that was for the Ransome station plane.’
‘You going out to Ransome? Well, well! We’d better introduce ourselves. I’m Jack Brownrigg and I’m a friend of Greg Camden’s. He’s the boss out there. … I suppose you know that? You come up for the big party and the muster?’
‘Yes and no,’ Sara said quietly. ‘I’m the secretary. I believe it’s going to be a very big party and a very big muster and the Company thought Mr. Gregory should have a secretary while it’s on.’
‘Greg with a secretary!’ Jack Brownrigg threw back his head and laughed. ‘Wait till the other station owners hear about that. Mostly they do with their book-keepers and a jackaroo.’
A faint colour rose in Sara’s cheeks.
‘I gathered it was something new,’ she said.
They had reached the wire fence and Jack Brownrigg passed her case between the wires and held them apart by putting his foot on the lower one and holding the upper two wires upwards with his hand.
‘Climb through,’ he said. ‘Nobody ever uses gates if they don’t have to.’
Sara climbed through and turned to thank him.
The young brown-faced man at the wheel of the car got out and came towards them.
‘Here’s your passenger, Andy,’ Jack Brownrigg said. ‘Tell Greg I rescued her.’
‘Morning, Jack. Morning, Miss … er … Miss …’
‘Brent,’ Sara said. ‘Sara Brent.’
‘Sara Brent,’ said Jack Brownrigg with a smile. ‘I’ll remember that when I come out to the party.’
‘Where’s my other passenger?’ said Andy dryly. ‘Guess she’s turning the airport upside down looking for me.’
‘She’ll come in good time,’ Jack said. ‘Julia always turns up.’
Sara looked at him in surprise. He hadn’t shown recognition of Julia in the plane.
Sara had noticed that when Julia left the plane she had disappeared inside the Air Office.
‘Shouldn’t I do something about my ticket?’
‘You should have,’ said Jack Brownrigg.
‘I’m afraid you’re in for serious trouble not checking out officially.’
‘Had I better go back?’ Sara asked anxiously.
The two men laughed.
‘He’s the boss cocky,’ said Andy, pointing to the other with his thumb. ‘He is the Air Office.’
‘Oh!’ said Sara in some bewilderment.
‘Give me your papers. I’ll see they don’t arrest you,’ said Jack Brownrigg, taking her ticket. ‘I’ll leave you with Andy now. Don’t forget to tell Greg I saw you.’
He lifted his hat and walked rapidly back in the direction of the galvanised iron house that was the Air Office.
Andy Patterson, tall, lean and weathered in the face till he looked like leather, slung her case in the back of the station wagon and then held open the door for her. His wide-brimmed, incredibly shabby slouch hat was pushed well back on his head. He grinned down at Sara.
‘You don’t know anything yet, miss, but that fella owns half the air line. Air pilot in the Korean War. Only a kid then. Best pilot in the north these days …’
‘I would have thought he would have known Miss Camden. Miss Julia Camden, I mean. She was a passenger.’
‘He’d have known her all right. But he wouldn’t have been bothered, if you know what I mean. It’s heavy going, with Julia. She’s got too much money and too many airs for blokes like Jack Brownrigg. She probably said “Good day” when she got in the plane and turned her back on him. She’s kinda like that …’
‘Oh, I’m sorry …’ said Sara and tried hard to think of something by which to change the conversation. Andy changed it for her.
‘Guess I’ll amble over to the shed and pick her up,’ he said. ‘Might as well …’ Then smiling rather wickedly down at Sara, ‘Not that she deserves it, mind you. I’ll just do it for Greg’s sake.’
‘Greg’s sake?’
‘Well, she’s kinda his girl in a way, even though they’re cousins,’ Andy said. ‘Then Julia got flying high and broke it up. Guess they’ll patch it up. She’s always coming up here since the wool clip on the south run turned out worth half a million. And Greg … well, he’s never looked at anyone else anyway.’
‘She’s very lovely,’ Sara said, feeling she must say the right thing to this man. She couldn’t imagine what his status on Ransome was. He looked like a cross between a hobo and a stockman.
He swung the car round and jolted over the rough ground at a great pace towards the iron building.
‘Here she is,’ said Andy, grinning. ‘Make way for the great lady.’ He braked sharply and said to Sara, ‘You sit tight, miss. If she wants the seat you’re in you just tell her to fly a kite. You’re here first.’
Oh dear! Sara thought. What do I do now?
Julia, however, did not want the front seat beside the driver. She preferred the back seat and plenty of room to herself.
She greeted Andy Patterson with a perfunctory nod and Sara with the merest ‘How do you do?’ Sara said nothing about having met before. Obviously Julia was not intent on conversation.
Sara looked away over the vast brown distances of semi-desert country so as not to let Andy wink at her.
While Andy drove … at a reckless pace … he whistled through his teeth and this prevented him from making conversation.
Sara thought that if others at Ransome felt like this about Julia, she, Sara, was not going to have an easy time of it.
Then she remembered what Andy had said about Gregory Camden … the boss. He was attached to Julia. Sara felt glad of that. She as a good secretary had always to be on the side of the ‘Boss’. It would simplify her attitude to Julia. It would be ‘Julia right or wrong’. Sara’s position would be clear-cut … and that was important.
She had tried to please Clifford Camden at the city end of the big pastoral company. Mr. Clifford had kept on breaking all the rules of office procedure. He made love in a mild kind of way to the typists, all of them, including Sara. Sara had been relieved when she had been posted to the station for six weeks. Mr. Clifford’s love-making had been innocuous, confined to an occasional touching of an arm and a sly way of commenting on any new dress or change of shade in make-up. But it had been there and was very bad taste. Sara hoped Gregory Camden was not of the same cut of cloth.
But no. Andy had said Greg had never looked at any girl other than Julia. She’d be safe with Greg. Besides, he ran the station very efficiently. Sara knew that from her inside position in the firm.
Gregory dealt firmly with these shareholders … and he never wasted a word in so doing. Some of the demands that came from one or other of the Camdens were verging on the ridiculous. The very last one that had come into the office before Sara left was a request from a Louise Camden for Clifford to buy an ocean-going yacht and have it equipped and ready to sail out of Townsville for the Barrier Reef in three months. Louise Camden had written that she owed such a lot of people hospitality she thought it quickest to buy a yacht and take them all for a fortnight’s trip to the Great Barrier Reef.
Clifford had tossed the letter across to Sara and said, ‘Wait till Greg hears about that one.’
That was the day Julia had come into the office, looking like a million dollars and smelling faintly of Chanel Five.
‘I want some money, Cliff,’ she had said. ‘I haven’t a rag to my back.’
Clifford had said, ‘Poor Julia. You really do look down and out. I’ll ask Greg what the cattle are likely to fetch this season.’
‘Coward,’ Julia had said scornfully. ‘You always fall back on Greg, don’t you?’
‘If Greg didn’t save your skin for you the others would fall on you like a pack of wolves,’ Clifford had said with a smile. ‘Actually, my sweet coz, Greg’s the best friend you ever had.’
Julia had tapped her long gloved fingers on the polished jarrah table and looked thoughtfully at her cousin.
‘M’m …’ she said at length. ‘I think I under-estimated Greg in the old days.’
‘Or under-estimated the value of that southern run and its subsequent wool cheque?’