About the Author
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Sarah Williams spent her childhood chasing sheep, riding horses and picking Kiwi fruit on the family orchard in rural New Zealand. After a decade travelling, Sarah moved to Queensland to enjoy the endless summer, pristine beaches and tropical rainforests.
When she's not absorbed in her fictional writing world, Sarah is running after her family of four kids, one husband, two dogs, a horse and a cat. She is CEO of Serenade Publishing, hosts the weekly podcast/vlog Write with Love, runs writers workshops and retreats, mentors and supports her peers to achieve their publishing dreams.
Sarah is regularly checking social media when she really should be cleaning.
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www.sarahwilliamsauthor.com
The Legacies of Brigadier Station
Sarah Williams
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Also by Sarah Williams
Also by Sarah Williams
Also by Sarah Williams
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2019 by Sarah Williams
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
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Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
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Cover design: Lana Pecherczyk.
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The Legacies of Brigadier Station / Sarah Williams. – 1st ed. AUS English.
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Serenade Publishing
www.serenadepublishing.com
Created with Vellum
To my daughters, Raphaella and Arabella
Chapter 1
Lachlan McGuire had been sober for ten months and twenty-two days.
It had been a struggle and like his AA sponsor, Michael, had said, “You have to make the decision not to drink every day.”
He let his fingers touch the gold aluminium of the beer can. The Good Samaritan who had supplied the esky of drinks clearly hadn't known that putting soft drinks in the same ice-filled esky as the wine, beer, and pre-mixes would cause Lachie such despair.
It would be so easy for him to pull out that can of sweet amber, slide it into a cooler so nobody would know, and give in to the urge. The urge he had repressed for such a long time. Such a long, hard time.
He lifted his gaze from the box and tried to clear his mind. There were kids playing soccer, running and shouting at each other as their family and friends watched on and chatted. There was Dylan, the man of the hour, who was celebrating his fortieth birthday. Dylan had his own struggles with depression, and who could blame him? This drought was taking everything away from him. Now, the bank was threatening foreclosure, and yet he could muster a smile for his friends and family. Surely Lachie could last one more day without a drink.
He swallowed hard. His gaze found his brother Darcy, and he remembered why he had decided to sober up in the first place.
Because their father, Daniel, had been a no-good, child-abusing, wife-beating drunk, and there was no way in hell Lachie wanted to be anything like him.
The fire of resolve burned through him and he reached instead for a can of Coke.
The sugary, black drink had become his new addiction. He knew how many calories it contained and that he was becoming softer around the middle because of it, but at least it didn't make him say and do stupid things. His drinking had cost him too much. It was not going to cost him anything else.
“Lachie.” Darcy stood at the barbecue turning sausages as he beckoned his brother over.
After slugging a mouthful of cola, Lachie walked over to join him.
“I hope you're not burning them,” Lachie said, looking at the smoking plate filled with sausages.
“Do me a favour and start putting the beef patties on?” Darcy motioned to an esky next to them.
Lachie nodded and retrieved the meat. There had to be a hundred people attending the party today, and there had to be enough meat in the esky to feed them twice over.
“Who supplied the meat?” Lachie asked as he started pulling the patties apart and placing them on the plate where Darcy was making room.
“Johnno, the butcher donated it,” Darcy said.
“I thought he was struggling? There has to be a few hundred dollars’ worth in there.”
“He offered. Said it was for a good cause. I think he was right. Look at how the community has come together.”
Lachie looked out again at all the people. Many were graziers like him and Darcy who were working their families land. Lachie had sent the Brigadier Station stock to agistment properties years ago, when they’d thought the drought would only last a few years. Ten years on, it was still dry, with only the occasional sprinkle of rain to tease them.
It was as bad as it could get. Brigadier Station was holding on by the tips of its fingers. Many had not been so lucky.
Lachie needed to think of other things. He didn't want to talk about the weather today. “I haven’t seen Meghan yet. How is your wife doing? Got her pregnant yet?”
Darcy's face paled and his hands stilled.
“Shit, what'd I say?” Lachie said.
Darcy looked at his brother; his usually bright blue eyes had turned dark. “She's not here. She's avoiding anywhere with kids. Especially babies.”
Lachie followed his gaze to a circle of women who were all nursing babies of various ages from newborns to just crawling toddlers.
“She had another miscarriage last week. This one makes three.”
Lachie swore on an exhale and laid a hand on Darcy's shoulder. “I'm sorry. I didn't know.”
“No one does. Not even Mum,” Darcy said. “I flew her to Townsville to see a specialist who ran some tests. Turns out she has bicornate uterus. It's shaped like a heart and didn't form normally.”
“Wow.” Lachie had seen all sorts of reproductive problems over the years in cows and remembered an instance when the vet had diagnosed that same condition after a particularly gruesome birth. Lachie’d had to put the cow out of its misery. “Is there anything they can do? Surgery or drugs?”
“Now that we know, she can be monitored. She gets pregnant easily enough; it's just keeping it that's hard.”
“That's got to be tough. I'm so sorry for you.” Lachie couldn't imagine what his brother and sister-in-law must be going through. They both wanted kids so much and had been trying for a long time. He couldn't imagine how hard losing one pregnancy must be for them, let alone three.
They were quiet for a while as they flipped meat and concentrated on cooking. Lachie had decided children were not on the books for him. He liked them well enough and would enjoy being an uncle, but the closest he had come to hav
ing a family had ended when his fiancée had left him at the altar. For his brother.
Lachie had forgiven Meghan for that and was happy she had found such love with Darcy. He knew that she had chosen the better man and even though they were dealing with these problems now, they would make it through together, no matter what.
“Lachie,” Dylan found him in the crowd and shook his hand. “Thanks for coming over.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it. It’s quite a turnout.” Lachie noted his neighbour’s hollow cheeks and the way his baggy clothes hung from his thin frame.
“I wasn’t expecting so many people. Maddie said it would be a small gathering.” Dylan’s smile was full of heart and his voice was choked with emotion. “I feel so lucky to have such great mates. It’s been a hard few years.”
Lachie nodded. “It sure has been. We’ve just got to keep working and pray for rain.”
Dylan turned his head up to the sky. Not a rain cloud in sight.
Everyday Lachie checked but there was never a bloody cloud in that endless blue sky. “It’s raining in Darwin. Maybe it’ll come down here.”
“Nah,” Dylan shook his head, “the weather forecast shows it going back to sea.”
“Damn.” Lachie said. “Even a sprinkle would be a nice change.”
Stories were shared and people caught up on town events over steak burgers, sausages, and hearty serves of coleslaw and potato bake. Lachie chatted with his neighbours and discussed all things from the drought—forecasted to continue for at least another year—to why he hadn't been to the pub recently.
“I've given up the grog.” He repeated, this time to the publican himself.
“Really?” The old man's weathered face fell. “Damn, you were the only business I could rely on.”
Lachie frowned, unsure if the man was joking or not. Probably not. It was no secret that the pub had been Lachie's second home since he was old enough to drink, and even before that.
He turned his gaze, eager for somebody, anybody to save him from feeling guilty about sobering up.
“I think I'll go play soccer with the kids,” he said and hurried away from the old man.
There were enough children running around the dusty paddock to make up more than two teams. Even the youngest of the rural offspring were running after their older siblings and friends as the soccer ball was kicked between booted feet.
Lachie watched them as they shrieked at each other and tried to steal the ball. He recognised Emma, Dylan’s daughter, just as they spotted him and yelled at him to join in.
He jogged onto the field and followed the ball until he saw an opening then took his shot. He lasted about five minutes before an older boy—tall and meaty for his age, knocked him to the ground.
Lachie went down hard on his stomach. The pain around his middle was immediate and debilitating. He couldn't stop the groan that escaped him.
Abigail watched the children playing on the dusty open paddock. Her six-year-old daughter, Hannah, was playing alongside her friends, her shorts dirty and her blonde hair coming loose from its ponytail.
The noise on the field changed. The man who had been playing with them, who she had noticed from a distance but hadn't recognised, was lying on the ground, curled up in the foetal position. Abbie started running towards the group, her medical instincts taking over just as her daughter started running towards her.
They met halfway.
“I don't know what's wrong with him, Mum. He got pushed and fell over; now he won't get up. None of us know why. It wasn't that hard.” Emma said.
Abbie smiled at her daughter and thanked her before continuing on to her patient.
As soon as she was close enough, she assessed the hulk of the man on the ground. He was clutching at his lower abdomen. She crouched next to him, ignoring the hard earth under her bare knees. How she wished she had opted for pants instead of the summer dress after all.
“My name is Abbie and I'm a nurse,” she said in her best bedside voice. “Can you tell me what happened?”
He turned his face to her and she swallowed. The pain was written all over his beautifully chiselled jawbone and blue eyes. So blue. So familiar, somehow.
“I got knocked over when I hit the ground. So much pain.”
She turned her attention to his belly. “Have you had any past injuries or operations ’round here?”
He humphed. “I grew up on the farm. I’ve had all manner of injuries and accidents over the years.”
“Lachie, are you okay?
Abbie looked up and recognised Darcy McGuire. Maddie had introduced her to Darcy earlier when she’d first arrived.
“I don't know. It hurts,” the injured man replied.
“Lachie is that your name?” Abby asked.
Darcy responded. “Yeah. He’s my brother.”
Abbie nodded, then turned to her patient. “Lachie, I'm just going to touch you very gently. Tell me where it hurts.”
Lachie nodded and moved his arms out of the way.
She placed her hands on top of his shirt and gently applied pressure. He moaned and grabbed at her wrists. The pressure of his calloused hands wasn’t enough to cause any real pain, but reminded her she was dealing with a man with far more strength that she had.
“Sorry.” He loosened his grip.
“It's okay. Do you mind if I unbutton your shirt to make sure there is no bruising?”
He nodded. “That's fine.”
She went to work on the buttons.
“Can I do something?” Darcy asked, his voice tense with worry. “I could get him some painkillers?”
“No.” Lachie’s voice was adamant. “I can't take anything.”
His eyes sought Abbie’s and she nodded, understanding there was more to the story.
“Probably better he doesn't take anything until we know what's going on.” She smiled at Darcy.
Lachie’s pale skin was solid under her touch. As she moved the sides of his shirt apart, she saw there was no obvious bruising. She ran through the list of possibilities in her mind.
“And there's been no recent injuries?”
“He was in a quad bike accident,” Darcy said when his brother remained silent. “He broke some ribs and hurt some tendons. The doctors suspected spinal injuries but he got the all-clear.”
Abbie pursed her lips. “How long ago was this?”
“A couple of years.”
“And you haven't been feeling sick recently or having any pain?” she asked Lachie.
“No, I’ve been fine. It wasn't until I fell that anything hurt.”
She buttoned his shirt back up then turned to Darcy. “We need to take him to hospital.”
Lachie moaned and wiped a hand over his face. “I’ll be fine.” He moved to sit, but the grimace on his face told her she was making the right decision.
Darcy nodded. “I can take him.”
“It’s a long drive,” she said, thinking about every bump and pothole that stood between them and the township of Julia Creek. “I’ll take him in my car. I live in town anyway, and the hospital is short-staffed today.”
Darcy looked between Lachie and Abbie. Lachie’s nod of consent was all it took for Darcy to agree to the plan.
“It’s probably nothing. You stay here and enjoy the party,” Lachie said to his brother.
“Yeah, right,” Darcy muttered under his breath as an older lady came to kneel beside them.
“Mum, I’m okay,” Lachie said, and Abbie watched as he put on a stoic expression.
“No, you’re not.” She turned to Abbie. “You’re the new nurse, aren’t you?”
“I am.” Abbie introduced herself and explained the situation. “I’ll call when we know what’s happened. There’s really no need to come.”
Lachie’s mother squeezed his hand. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Mum. I need you to stay on the station and feed the chooks anyway.”
The plan was agreed to, and Lachie was helped into Abbie’s Land Cruiser.
She arranged pillows around him to make him as comfortable as possible.
Her daughter climbed into her booster seat beside him. Abbie glanced at her daughter who seemed to be taking it all in.
“Honey, we're just going to take Lachie to the hospital in town, and then we'll go home. Okay?”
Hannah smiled at her mum as though this was another great adventure. “Okay.”
Abbie then turned her attention to her patient and placed a hand on his finely muscled arm. “I've made you as comfortable as I can, but I won't lie. It will be a long trip into town.”
Lachie nodded and looked into her eyes. His were so blue. He gave her a weak smile of thanks.
“My name is Hannah. I'm six,” her daughter said.
Abbie walked around the car to the driver’s side. “I'll call you with an update as soon as I have one.” Abbie promised Darcy and his mother, Harriet who were waiting anxiously, then she slid into the car and started the ignition.
Before they had even left the property, Hannah had Lachie engaged in a deep conversation about school, what she was learning, and what it had been like when Lachie had attended the public school many years before.
“After my youngest brother, Noah, was born, we got a Governess to teach us,” he explained.
“What's a governess?” Hannah asked.
“It's a teacher who lives with you.”
“Oh, like Paige.” Hannah nodded. “She's our friend in Hughenden.”
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