“The inquiry found Pretty Boy doped by a person or persons unknown, administered about twelve hours before the race.”
“All that time away just for that!” Jenny exclaimed in puzzlement. “You knew that before the inquiry.”
“Merry looks as if she has more blackberries on her than in her bucket,” Bill Williams said, changing the subject.
“Time both of you cleaned up,” Mrs. Harris prompted, shifting cakes out of Merry’s reach.
“Uncle Wayne’s come,” Merry announced, looking out the window.
Jenny followed her glance. Her heart sank as she saw the grey Mercedes slowing by the front steps. What did Wayne think of the findings of the inquiry? Why was Bill Williams so tense and uncomfortable? Was there something he was keeping back? She took Merry’s hand, grateful for the excuse to go.
“Come on, Merry. We’ll get cleaned up.”
“Haven’t seen Uncle Wayne for ages,” Merry chattered as she splashed in her bath.
“Everyone’s been very busy.” Jenny kept her voice casual. “What about getting out?”
Soon Merry danced off, very pleased with herself in her pink velvet dress, with a huge bow in her hair. Jenny got herself bathed and changed. She put on a fresh cotton dress and stared blindly at the mirror as she brushed her hair. Why had Bill Williams sounded so evasive and uncomfortable? Did he or Wayne believe she was involved in the doping of the horse? She remembered the curious comment he had made about the two Jennys around the night of the dinner dance. Just the merest glimpse of Wayne made her feel prickly and uncomfortable, almost guilty, she thought to herself. Going down to dinner felt like an ordeal.
After their roast lamb and vegetables came blackberry tart and cream for dessert. With the boys and Merry, the conversation around the dinner table was boisterous and general. Apart from one level glance, Wayne concentrated his attention on them.
Afterwards, Jenny took the coffee tray out on to the veranda, and the two men drifted after her to relax in the sagging cane chairs. Merry and her brothers stayed in the lounge room by the television. Jenny jumped straight into the thoughtful silence.
“Anything come out about the woman Ben thought he saw at the stables?” she demanded as she poured out the coffees.
The two men exchanged glances. Bill Williams filled his pipe, his eyes on his fingers as he tamped the bowl.
“Ben didn’t mention it,” he explained.
“He said he saw someone,” Jenny insisted.
“In a black velvet wrap and hood.” Wayne drawled.
“You see, Jenny,” her employer explained. “Although anyone could have borrowed that wrap that night, it sounded sort of nasty to mention it.”
Jenny stirred her coffee and realized what he had said. It was to protect her that the incident of the visitor in the black velvet wrap had been suppressed! Someone was able to plunge a syringe into Pretty Boy and walk off unchallenged. It was pretty obvious that Ben believed it was her! And what about Wayne? She sneaked a side look at him.
“You think I did it?”
Bill Williams put his cup down precisely on the saucer and fumbled to light his pipe. It had gone out again. He glanced at Wayne. Wayne remained silent.
“Ben said he saw the back view of someone in your hooded wrap, reach up to the horse’s neck and then walk away without answering him.”
“As I said, I dropped the wrap outside the night before,” Jenny said. “I collected it from the office in the morning.”
She became aware of Wayne’s damning silence. There was a tenseness to his posture. Did her really believe she was guilty?
“Don’t worry about it,” Bill Williams advised as he stood up. “There’s always another race meeting for Pretty Boy. Time to check the patrols.”
The two men went down the steps to vanish into the dusk. Jenny sat for a while. Her coffee grew cold. She gazed across to where the dim glow of lights outlined the stable area.
So Ben did believe it was her that night! Even if he hadn’t mentioned it at the inquiry, he probably discussed it among the hands now they were back. Perhaps everybody on the property weighed the pros and cons of whether it was her or not? The very fact that her employer asked Ben to suppress any mention of the incident made it look as if she was guilty and Bill Williams was protecting her.
Wayne’s belief in her guilt was obvious. His dislike of her friendship with Tony was suddenly clear. The Bickertons were the only ones with a motive for disabling Pretty Boy. He must believe that Tony was behind the doping, and she had helped him. The hot blood rushed to her face and then she shivered in the evening breeze. Surely not even Wayne could believe that of her? She collected the tray and took it into the kitchen.
The next few days were miserable and depressing. Jenny was hard put to pretend an air of indifference to the coldness that had spread through everyone on the property towards her. The stock still disappeared, despite all precautions and night watches, and somehow it made it all worse, as though she was to blame.
Mrs. Harris was cool and impersonal, and the station hands wary and embarrassed. Conversation always stopped when she came near. The children just seemed bewildered.
“What’s up with Bert and the boys?” John demanded outright in his blunt manner.
He had spent the morning at the stables helping with the horses, and returned with a ferocious scowl on his normally good-natured face. Allan shuffled uneasily at his heels and watched Jenny out of the corner of his eye. He nudged his older brother, and whispered something. John went scarlet and with a muttered apology turned on his heels and fled to the security of the kitchen.
Jenny was hurt beyond words at the boys’ actions. Surely they didn’t believe the gossip as well? She walked back to the house with a heavy heart.
She felt so terribly isolated. Wayne hadn’t been around for days. Sure proof that he believed in her guilt, she thought dully. Bill Williams was too preoccupied with his missing stock to do more than greet her as he passed. She hadn’t seen Tony or even Marise since the race meeting. For some reason they were keeping clear of Taralon. Not that she cared, she told herself. Unless it was proof that they had heard the rumors too and believed them. And what of the Sullivans, and that nice Terry? Did they believe the rumors flying around?
She thought longingly of returning to her home and the smooth anonymity of temporary office positions. Her mother’s last letter had pointed out that she had been away for ten weeks, and surely she would be home before Christmas! Then again, if she went back, it would look as if she left because she was guilty. She just had to stay and wait out all the unpleasantness! She clenched her firsts as she thought about it.
How had her life managed to become so complicated and unpleasant?
Chapter Twelve
There was a succession of clear hot days, each one hotter and brighter than the day before. Jenny paused at the door of the office and looked out. The sky was an unclouded brazen blue, and waves of heat shimmered around the gums and over the brown of the paddocks.
“It’s hot,” Merry complained, tagging at her heels with an armful of dolls.
“Yes,” Jenny agreed.
It was still early morning, and she was determined to get the books finished before the heat of the day turned the little office into an airless oven.
“Mrs. Harris is looking for you, Merry,” Wayne said as he came up silently behind them. “She needs some help with her cake making.”
Merry put her dolls on the battered couch and ran towards the kitchen, an excited gleam in her eyes. It was very seldom that there was an invitation issued for her to help in the kitchen.
“Into the office, Jenny Wren. I want to talk to you.”
Jenny was surprised, but obediently stepped over to the chair at the roll top desk. Wayne shifted the dolls and sprawled his long length on the couch. He didn’t begin at once.
He picked up one of Merry’s dolls. It was bald, and still had strips of sticking plaster stuck rakishly across its head. He inspected
it carefully. Jenny waited in silence. Wayne had moved back into his usual room at the house these last few weeks. He was always courteous and somehow impersonal if he spoke to her, but for some reason his aloofness hurt. This morning he looked grim, his brows black bars across icy grey eyes. Jenny’s heart missed a beat at the expression on his face as she waited for him to speak.
She knew why he looked so grim. All the men at Taralon looked grim, tired, and worried these days. She knew from her bookwork that the continuous and inexplicable disappearance of stock was proving a drastic financial burden. The outwardly prosperous Taralon bled from the remorseless loss of the marketable cattle. Now the promise of a long hot early summer threatened more problems and expense as the necessity for hand-feeding the remaining stock loomed closer.
“Jenny,” he began. “We’ve appreciated how helpful you’ve been over the last few months, but the arrangement was only temporary.”
“Marise is actually coming back?” Jenny asked in surprise, realizing that this was a prelude to her dismissal.
“I don’t think we’ll need Marise’s help from now on. Merry will be at school after the holidays and Mrs. Harris will be able to manage.” A flush spread over his face, and for a few seconds the icy grey eyes were averted. “We’re very grateful for all your help over a very difficult period, but I think it’s time you left.”
Jenny puzzled at his discomfiture. Of course she wanted to go home, but if Marise wasn’t coming back, she should stay at least until the boys broke up for their holidays. Then she realized why she was being asked to leave! An odd pain twisted in her heart.
“You’re sending me away?”
Wayne looked even more uncomfortable. He put the doll back carefully on the couch beside him, still not meeting her eyes.
“I think it would be better if you left now.” He waited, but Jenny just stared at him. He sighed, inspecting the polish of his boots, and said bluntly, “If you’re gone, all those nasty rumors floating around should die a natural death.”
“What about Merry and the bookwork?” Jenny managed stiffly. So he did believe she was guilty of doping Pretty Boy!
“Everything is pretty much under control now,” he assured her. “Bill can get back to handling the paperwork and Merry is old enough to be sensible. Bill and the children would be delighted if you kept in touch with Taralon and very pleased to see you again whenever you want to visit, but after all this unpleasantness is over.”
Jenny stared at him. She felt cold all over despite the warmth of the room. The hurt spread and spread. The still air carried the reassuring sounds of Taralon going about its normal business. A motor coughed its protest in the distance, the cockatoos squabbled noisily in the big gum tree, and Merry’s high-pitched treble and the lower murmur of Mrs. Harris’s voice came faintly from the open window of the kitchen.
For a few seconds her sense of reality faded, as though she was isolated and deafened by the senseless repetition of her pain. He did believe that she was guilty! She clenched her fists and took in deep breaths of the warm dusty air. Then the tight knot in her stomach eased. She wasn’t guilty and Wayne Paterson had no right to expect her to wear the mantle of that guilt. The anger and defiance flooded through her, straightened her back, and flushed away the pain.
“If Marise isn’t coming back, you still need someone until the holidays,” she said crisply.
Wayne raised his eyes from their inspection of his boots. The black brows flew upwards. The grey eyes got a gleam in them.
“Your services have been dispensed with,” he reminded her.
“Bill can make it his first job in the office to make up my final pay when school finishes,” she announced. “Mrs. Harris is going to be too busy to look after Merry until then. Unless,” she challenged, “you’re accusing me of incompetence?”
“I’ve never said that,” Wayne drawled. “Bill and I just want to protect you from any discomfort.”
“I think that I’m the one to decide whether I’m uncomfortable or not,” Jenny snapped.
Wayne stood up suddenly, his face black with rage and leaned over her, his face so close that Jenny could see the twin figures of herself reflected in his enlarged pupils. “I don’t think you have as much sense as Merry,” he gritted. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have put yourself or us in this situation.”
“Rubbish!” Jenny exclaimed.
It was obviously the wrong response. Wayne took a deep breath, and two iron hard hands fastened on her shoulders, and lifted her to her feet.
“So generous with your favors, Jenny Wren,” he drawled. “Why waste them on someone who was only using you?”
Jenny didn’t waste her energy trying to pull free. She glared up into his face. “I seem to remember telling you once that what I do is no business of yours,” she retorted. “I happen to be old enough and perfectly capable of looking after myself.”
“Good!” Wayne said with a short laugh. “Thanks for the invitation.”
Without warning, his mouth was on hers. She struggled ineffectually to pull away. His kiss was brutal and hard, forcing her mouth into compliance. One of his hands touched the side of her neck, paused and continued down to unbutton the front of her shirt. She shivered, waiting for his hand to move down to claim her waiting breast, deafened beyond rational thought by the thunder of her pulse.
Her knees felt boneless. She relaxed against him, tilting her head back. The mouth on hers softened, and the kiss became slower and somehow more intimate. She was shaking, but she was not sure why and she felt the tremors of his body as she pressed against him.
Suddenly, he pushed her away from him and firmly back down into the chair. His brows met in the familiar black bar. His grey eyes stared into hers like a bewildered stranger. Jenny tried to draw in deep sobering breaths, and buttoned her shirt with a shaking hand. For a few seconds she had felt as if she had been on an irrational high. Why hadn’t she kicked him hard in the shins when he had started to manhandle her or at least slapped his face as hard as she could?
“You owe me an apology,” she stammered.
He took a deep breath. His hands tightened around her shoulders. For a few seconds she thought he was going to shake her. He looked so startled and furious. Just then her employer came into the office.
“Ill-treating the hired help, Wayne?’ he asked mildly.
Wayne flushed, let go of Jenny, and turned on his heel. “She won’t go,” he flung back as he strode away.
Her employer sat down on the vacated couch and took out his pipe. He tamped tobacco in and made several attempts to light it before it caught. Although he looked tired and strained, he looked better than when Jenny had first met him. Now his face was alert, and there was a humorous twinkle in his pale blue eyes.
“I’ll leave when the holidays start,” Jenny insisted. She wanted to add that she didn’t care about the gossip or the malicious rumors, and this was the only way she could show her innocence, but as his worried doubtful expression crept back, she didn’t dare. “It’s all right,” she reassured him.
The expression on his face relaxed. He stood up and put a kindly hand on her shoulder. “I’m going to have to do that wretched bookwork when you’re not here. Take a break and go for a ride.”
Jenny felt herself relax. At least Bill Williams believed she was innocent. He had only been worrying about trying to protect her. She felt the relief and happiness spread through her and gave him a radiant smile.
“A young woman with guts,” he said as he smiled back. He took her place at the desk and pulled the heavy ledger towards him. “Take Buttercup,” he suggested. “She’s overdue for some exercise.”
Jenny grabbed a riding helmet and went down the yard to the stables. She saddled up Buttercup with a feeling of anticipation. It seemed to have been weeks since she rode. She swung into the saddle and pushed the placid Buttercup into a smart trot as she left.
The property looked sleepy, basking in the early morning sunshine. There was no sign of activity.
Most of the hands were down in the back paddock checking stock. A few horses grazing by the creek twitched their ears as she rode past, but there was no other sign of movement.
She swung the gate shut after her and cantered along with a feeling of release. Everything was very quiet. Even the birds were silent, and the fine powdery dust rose behind her. Gradually the tension and the miserable inexplicable ache in her throat vanished. She felt a sense of gratitude for her employer’s suggestion that she go horse riding. It was just what she needed to blow away the past weeks of gloom, doubt and depression that had hovered over her so blackly.
She reached the winding track beside the river. It was cooler here and the trees gave welcome shade. Buttercup slowed and plodded on, her earlier friskiness under control. Jenny let the reins go slack and Buttercup moved in her own direction and at her own speed.
This, she realized was a farewell ride. She would look forward to seeing her family and home again, although the few months of working here made her realize she was a country person. She was going to find it hard to settle back into city life again. She mused on the possibility of getting more work on a country property and then shook her head. She couldn’t see herself as a Jillaroo, and she knew that a position like this was not likely to turn up again at the agency.
She tried to keep her mind away from the memory of Wayne’s inexplicable actions, but deep inside her something savored the way he had trembled as he held her. What right did he have to be jealous? Was it jealousy or just his chauvinistic arrogance that had set off his actions? Lovemaking, she admitted to herself. She remembered the way her treacherous body had stopped fighting his kiss and shivered. It certainly was time she went home to her well-ordered and satisfactory life of temporary office jobs. Except, office work no longer seemed satisfactory. She mused about moving her life in a different direction. She was young enough to take on another profession. Wool classing or horticulture might lead back to country living.
Shadows Over Taralon Page 9