by Margaret Way
“Do as Keefe tells you, Dad,” Skye urged, taking her father’s hand to offer comfort.
“Unless I’m not your dad,” Jack murmured, in a very distressed voice.
Skye’s blue eyes flashed up at Keefe, then back to her father “What are you saying?” she quavered.
“You know, sweetheart.” He stared at the white sheet that covered him, not her.
“I know nothing of the kind.” Skye stoutly maintained the lie. It was white, wasn’t it? Well, she wasn’t a saint.
“But you want to know?”
Skye’s helpless shrug signalled her defeat. Another long look passed between herself and Keefe, who was standing on the opposite side of her father’s narrow bed.
“Tell us what you think you know, Jack.” Keefe drew up a chair, speaking quietly, persuasively to his overseer.
“I know precious little,” Jack admitted with a tortured smile. “God knows, I never did ask questions. I adored Cathy, Katrina, whatever her real name. I loved her. I know I’m just an ordinary bloke, but I was sure she loved me. She told me I was the loveliest, kindest man in the world.” His voice broke.
“Of course she loved you,” Skye maintained hotly, taking her father’s hand. “And so you are a lovely kind man. Who told you all this, Dad?” She was convinced it was Rachelle, who had appeared genuinely upset by her father’s disappearance, but that alone didn’t ensure Rachelle was innocent. She was such a devious person.
“It wasn’t Rachelle.” Keefe looked across at her, reading her mind. This was no time to push Jack.
Skye was aware he was giving off signals. But she felt compelled to ignore them. She had to get to the bottom of this. “Was it Scott?” Scott, who had long desired her, now hated her. It had to be Scott. That was his nature.
Keefe spoke gently. “Will you confirm that, Jack?”
Jack subsided miserably into the pillows. “Leave it for a little while, will you, Keefe?” he quietly begged. “I feel a bit under the weather at the moment.”
“Of course.” Keefe pushed back his chair and stood up resolutely. “It doesn’t matter anyway, Jack. I know it was my brother.” His handsome face was set like granite. “Rest easy, Jack. I’ll take care of this. McPherson will be here shortly to take a look at you. When you’re feeling better we’ll arrange a short holiday for you. Be assured, your job is as safe as ever.”
As Keefe strode from the room, Skye hurried after him, reaching out to grasp his arm in an effort to detain him. “What are you going to do, Keefe?”
He turned back, studying her beautiful, agonised face. “Leave it to me, Skye,” he said, not about to accept interference, even from her. “We both know it was Scott. He meant to hurt you through your father. He didn’t give a damn what happened to Jack. Jack will confirm it in his own good time.”
“Yes.” She sighed with deep regret. “Scott’s aim has always been to destroy what we have.”
“Except revenge is a double-edged sword. Now the sword is going to fall on him.”
Keefe turned away. She felt compelled to run after him. He looked so angry, so menacing and he was a very strong man. Superbly fit. Scott would be no match for him. “He’s your brother, Keefe.” She gripped his arm, feeling the anger and bitter disillusionment that raged through him. “Tell me what you’re going to do. If you love me, you’ll tell me.”
“If I love you?” He caught her up so powerfully she was momentarily off her feet. His brilliant eyes slashed incredulously over her face. “How can you even say it?”
She was shaking right through her body. “I’m frightened, that’s why. Please tell me, Keefe. I couldn’t bear for you to get injured. Scott wouldn’t play fair. He can’t seem to help himself.”
“I told you to leave it to me,” he repeated harshly. “Believe me, he won’t stand a chance. Then I’m going to banish him. Next, I’m going to order Rachelle to find herself a job. Any job, just so long as she gets up off her pampered backside.”
Skye strangled a laugh. “Wouldn’t that be something?”
“This could have ended very badly, Skye. You know that.”
“Dad would never have taken his own life.” She had to convince herself of that. “He just wanted time to think.”
“Only time was running out.” Keefe’s retort was grim.
She stared up into his darkly disturbed face. “We’re no further than we were before. I can’t possibly ask dad for a DNA sample. Not now.”
“The plan goes ahead.” He bent to press a hard kiss onto her mouth. It burned like a brand. Just as he had intended.
“If you can be patient, you’ll find Jack is prepared to give it. He’s a good man. Doing what you need is part of Jack’s goodness. I’d strongly advise you to let him bring up the subject himself. Now, don’t try to detain me. I’m going in search of my brother.” He released her so quickly she staggered a little. “There’s absolutely nowhere Scott can hide. Nowhere I can’t find him.”
Dr Joe McPherson of the Royal Flying Doctor Service flew in an hour later, and carefully checked Jack over. No questions were asked apart from those about Jack’s symptoms. Dr McPherson handed Skye a list of things to do to help her father recover quickly. Hospitalisation wasn’t called for. Maybe a bit of counselling later. No reference was made as to what the counselling might be for, but obviously Joe McPherson knew. He tended to know everything about the people in his vast practice.
Afterwards Jack slept. When he awoke it was to find Skye by his bedside, quietly reading a book of poetry. “Feeling better, Dad?” She closed the book—she hadn’t been taking all that much in—setting it down on the bedside table. “Anything I can get you? A cup of tea?”
“Tea would be lovely,” he said. “My throat is so dry.”
In a matter of minutes Skye was back, allowing her father to sip the tea in silence before taking the empty cup from him.
“That was good,” Jack sighed, allowing her to plump up the pillows. “It’s dark.’
“Eight o’clock, Dad.”
“Has Keefe come in again?” Urgency was in his hoarsened voice.
“Not as yet.” She shook her head. “But he will. You don’t have to talk, Dad, if you don’t want to. Not ever!”
“Only it’s my plain duty to talk,” he said with a wry grimace. “I don’t know what I intended to do, darling girl, out there in the desert. I was temporarily off my head. But the desert makes a man feel as small and unimportant in the scheme of things as a grain of sand. My excuse is I was in a terrible state of shock.”
“I know that, Dad.” Skye covered one rough calloused hand with her own.
“I didn’t deserve Cathy,” Jack said. “I don’t deserve you.”
Skye held back tears. “Now you’re being way too modest.” She smiled.
“Maybe just plain stupid,” Jack answered brusquely. “Just a naïve old cowhand. You want to know for sure, don’t you?”
Skye held his blue eyes. “I’m sure you’re my dad. That’s all that matters.” She pressed his hand tightly.
“I don’t think so.” Jack’s answer was uncharacteristically grim. “You love Keefe?”
“With all my heart. Minus the part you’ve got.” She tried for another smile. “We want to marry, Dad. Keefe is insistent. But I can’t see to a future with a cloud hanging over our heads. First, we get you right. I couldn’t have borne to lose you, Dad. Remember that when you’re feeling low. Behind you, there’s me. Never forget you have to answer to me.”
“That’s my girl!” For the first time Jack gave a big open smile. “I knew Cathy had a bit of a crush on Jonty,” he revealed, gently scratching his chest. “God, he was handsome and so full of life. A McGovern. Only Jonty was more or less spoken for. He was involved with one of the Corbett girls. Louise, as I recall. A pretty girl, a very suitable young lady, but not a patch on your mother, who was a genuine beauty. As you are. I was sure Cathy understood that.”
“So it was accepted that Jonty McGovern and Louise Corbett belonged toge
ther?”
“That was the word. At any rate, Louise had a nervous breakdown after Jonty was killed. He always was a bit of a daredevil, taking unnecessary risks, yet a tragic accident all the same. Cathy, too, was tremendously upset. Everyone was. Jonty was so young to be taken like that.”
Skye gave his cheek an encouraging stroke. “How did you get to know my mother so well?”
“Like I’ve always told you, sweetheart. For me it was love at first sight. How it happened was like this, something of a miracle for me, I can tell you. Lady McGovern charged me of all people to take Cathy out on trips around the station. I was always considered to be very trustworthy and responsible. Personally I always believed she sent me out with Cathy so Cathy couldn’t be with Jonty.”
“That could certainly have been true,” Skye said, with a lick of bitterness. She still hadn’t forgiven Lady McGovern. Perhaps she never would. “So on these trips you got to know one another very well?”
“Darned right!” Jack replied with conviction. “We hit it off from the beginning. I want you to know I behaved like a true gentleman all the time. Dozens of times I wanted to kiss her. The urge got more and more powerful every time we were together. But I never laid a finger on my Cathy except to assist her in some way. Getting in and out of vehicles. Dismounting. That sort of thing. In a short space of time we became really good mates. I was always skilful in the bush, a good bushman. I’ve always been close to the aboriginal people. They showed me lots. I, in turn, showed Cathy lots. She loved this place. She never wanted to leave. She didn’t talk about her past. I accepted her background must have been painful. I never pried. She would tell me when she was good and ready, I reckoned. Only I lost her. Maybe I was meant to lose her,” he said in one of the saddest voices Skye had ever heard.
“Don’t say that, Dad.” She let her head rest against his, listening to him draw in a ragged breath.
“There are jealous gods up there, Skye. Believe it. One shouldn’t love anyone too much. Love and loss go hand in hand. If you lose the person you love, your heart is ripped from your body.”
“I believe that.” She spoke from the depths of her deep, passionate and abiding love for Keefe.
“Now, let’s see about this DNA test,” Jack said briskly, as though they had been discussing it all along.
“Not necessary, Dad.” She looked him directly in the eyes. She was aware of the DNA profiles for close relationships such as first cousins. She was also aware that the results were inconclusive. It was her father’s DNA that was needed.
“We’ll do it!” he said firmly. “I’m certain in my heart you’re my child, Skye. I refuse to dishonour your mother and her memory. Cathy would never have done that to me. At first I was shocked out of my mind by what Scott told me. He has such a dark streak. But I’ve been over and over it out there in the desert. She wouldn’t have done it. That wasn’t my girl, my Cathy. If it was Jonty McGovern’s child she carried, she would have told me. She knew I would have helped her in any way I could. I would have been shocked but, God, I loved her. I saw myself as her protector.”
“I believe you about everything, Dad” Skye tried to fill up the raw aching spots in her with trust.
“And I believed in Cathy,” Jack said. “Lady McGovern got it all wrong. The thing is, love, and you have to take it into account, she never for one moment considered me as a likely suitor for Cathy. God forbid! Cathy was a lady. Say what you like, the old lady is a snob. Can’t help it, you see. To her I simply didn’t count. It had to be Jonty. Jonty was the father of Cathy’s child. Let’s prove it to her once and for all that she was wrong.”
Keefe called at the bungalow an hour later.
“How’s Jack now?” Voice pitched low, he walked into the comfortable living room, his height and physical magnificence making the adequate space seem claustrophobically small.
“Sleeping peacefully,” she said, picking up on his deep distress. “You spoke to Scott?”
Keefe nodded, putting out his arm and drawing her to him. “Among other things,” he said bluntly. “He’s up at the house now. Packing. He’ll go to wherever I send him. It was going to be Moolaki. It’s now Emerald Waters in the Gulf. He’ll be up close and personal with the crocs.”
“Oh, Lord! How did he take it?” Skye stared up at his taut face, seeing the underlying distress.
“He was absolutely delighted. What else?”
“You’re upset.”
“Of course I’m upset!” His silver eyes flashed. “Scott is my brother. He can fill me with a black rage—he’s such a liar—full of bitterness and resentment. He has always wanted to be me, even though he has no real insight into what that entails. He’s a terrible disappointment, but he’s still my brother.”
“I understand that, Keefe.” She did. “I know you’re suffering. But I need to know this. Are you blaming me in some way?”
“Good God, what are you talking about?” He stared down at her with a knotted frown.
She broke away, going to the door that shut the living room off from the hallway and closing it. “Remember years ago when Scott came after me?” she questioned, a searching look in her eyes.
He cut her off at once. “I’ll never forget it.”
Something in his manner set off a perverse spark of anger. It had been an extremely stressful day. Both of them were nearing the end of their tethers yet—or perhaps because of it—she couldn’t stop. “You may deny it now, Keefe, but you practically accused me then of being the catalyst in the whole episode. I was the innocent victim yet didn’t you say at the time that Scott wasn’t such a monster. Remember?” she challenged. “What was I again? Temptation on legs, according to Scott. You appeared to agree. I’ve had a lot of trouble with that one,” she said.
Keefe stood there, disgusted by the havoc Scott had wreaked on them. He could see the tension and the hurt—the remembered and the present—in every line of her body.
“I hurt you,” he acknowledged. “I didn’t mean to. But it was so difficult then. I was sick with concern about you, disgusted with Scott, but, forgive me, I saw you in the heat of the moment as what he said. Temptation. From a little girl you had turned into the most beautiful, alluring woman right before our eyes. Even level-headed men can become a little crazy around a woman like that.”
“Like me, you mean?” She hugged herself, her arms wrapped around her body like a shield. “I don’t see you acting crazy!” Her eyes were huge with delayed shock. “I don’t see you acting powerless. You’re the all-conquering male. You’re Keefe McGovern, the cattle baron. Admired and respected by all. You could have any woman you want.”
“I believe I’ve answered all that,” Keefe’s expression was that of a man nearing the end of his tether. “Over and over. You’re the only woman I want. You’re the only woman I’ll ever want. Stop now, Skye. It’s been one hell of a day. We’ll talk in the morning. Thank God Jack is safe.” He turned to move away, but she couldn’t let him go without touching him, feeding off his strength. Whatever the frustrations, whatever the difficulties, she could never be deprived of the sight and sound of Keefe.
“I’m sorry. Forgive me,” she whispered, putting her hand on his shoulder and staring up into the dark intensity in his face.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” he muttered, pulling her to him and taking her mouth. “Come riding with me in the morning.” His arms wound powerfully, protectively around her. “At dawn, just the two of us. You being here and me at the House is much too cruel. I need to make love to you, hold you through the night.” His breath rasped in his chest. His body was tuned to such a pitch he didn’t think he could take any more of these frustrations. Time after time. He wanted to close the door on the lot of them. Erect a huge barrier between Skye and himself and the demands of the outside world. Jack just had to be Skye’s biological father. Their whole future appeared to ride on it. Skye was a woman of strong passions. Strong convictions.
“I need to wake up beside you,” she murmured back. Sh
e had thought in her brightest moments that their being together was pre-destined, now she was constantly reminded of the promise she had made to a God who had shown her mercy. She had her father back.
It was probably the most dramatic entrance Rachelle would ever make in her life. She charged up the short flight of front steps and onto the porch, crying out Keefe’s name. In the next instant she crashed into the living room, her face ghostly white. “You’ve got to come,” she gasped, bending over to hold a hand to the stitch in her side. “Scott is going off his rocker. He’s shouting at Gran. It’s going to give her a heart attack if he keeps it up. He’s accusing her of loving you more than all of us put together. He said you’re sending him away to be eaten by the crocs. I hope they get him,” she cried with savage gusto. “He said you hate him and it’s all Skye’s fault. That she’s our cousin. Our first cousin, Uncle Jonty’s child. Is that true?” Rachelle’s dark eyes were nearly starting out of her head.
“No, it’s not!” Keefe wasn’t going to be caught up in speculation. For a start, even he wasn’t certain. He went to his sister’s side, enfolding her shaking body in his arms. “Quiet now, Chelle. Hush. Get your breath back. I’m on my way.”
“I’ll come with you,” Skye said, in no mood to brook an objection. How could Scott do this to his eighty-year-old-grandmother? Lady McGovern’s health since the death of her son, Broderick, had markedly declined.
“Me, too.” Rachelle sobered, enormously gratified by the comfort she had found in her brother. “Will your dad be okay?” She looked at Skye, who nodded.
“Dad’s asleep. It’s the sleep of exhaustion.”
“We’re all glad he’s back where he belongs, Skye. I mean, I haven’t been much of a friend to you.”
“But you can be a tremendous help in the future.” Skye had no difficulty offering an olive branch.
Keefe drove the Jeep to the base of the homestead’s stone steps. He sprang out of the vehicle with the uncoiled strength and liquid grace of a jungle cat. And, it had to be said, something of their ferocity too. The two young women followed him more slowly, Rachelle for the first time in her life clinging to Skye’s hand.