by Jane Corrie
dom flow over her. She ought to have done this a long time ago, or at least have made some effort to get away from Doyle's constant presence. A little voice inside her told her that if Doyle really loved her now was the time for him to prove it to her. Her worried eyes left Doyle's furious ones and she looked at Clay Dayman. She was surprised to see a tiny light lurking in the black depths of his eyes that clearly said `Bravo' to her.
`You're sorry ! ' snarled an infuriated Doyle. 'Well, so am I ! Sorry that Dayman's going to make that trip back without you. If, when you've had time to reconsider, you still want to go up North, then I'll make the arrangements. I'm surprised that you could even think of pulling up your roots and leaving us, let alone of leaving on the spur of the moment like that,' he added in an aggrieved tone that was supposed to reach through to Sheena's over-indulgent conscience.
Sheena recognised the tactics, but she was fighting for more than a tactical win. She was fighting for her future, for a future that held all she had ever wanted from life—marriage with Doyle, the man she loved.
Her lovely eyes held the challenge out to him as they met his. 'I have reconsidered, Doyle,' she answered firmly. 'And I've decided to accept Mr Dayman's escort. I'm sure your mother can find a replacement for me—there's a scarcity of jobs at the moment and there's bound to be a lot of applicants to choose from.' She gave a whimsical smile. 'It's not as if I had a future here, is it?' she asked him softly,
`and it's time I thought about my future.'
`My sentiments entirely,' said Clay Dayman dryly. `You keep out of this ! ' Doyle thundered at him. `What do you know about it anyway?'
`More than you think,' answered Clay with a hint of warning in his voice, and Sheena, although she didn't know this man very well, suspected that he was enjoying riling Doyle. 'I promised James Greig that I would look out for his daughter, and I guess that gives me the right to throw in my weight. I would have liked to have given Miss Greig a few more days' preparation before we leave, but I've a heavy schedule on back home and can't afford to take more than a couple of days off.' His dark penetrating eyes fixed on Doyle in what looked like a challenging manner to Sheena.
`Running the business singlehanded now, are you?' sneered Doyle. 'You've a smallholding too, have you?'
Sheena held her breath. She had never known Doyle speak to anyone like that before. If Clay Dayman was spoiling for a fight then so was Doyle.
Clay's eyebrows lifted, and Sheena noticed how expressive they were and how their winged blackness gave him a look of hauteur. 'Well, it's a holding,' he drawled non-committally, 'but I wouldn't call it all that small.'
His calm answer and refusal to rise to Doyle's taunt put him in a more advantageous position, an Doyle was quick to note this.
`I'd like to speak to Sheena alone,' he said in a
manner meant to prove to Clay that he was boss of that territory.
Clay inclined his head in agreement, but his narrowed eyes proved that he was not keen on this suggestion. He walked to the study door and turned to Sheena before he left. 'I'll be leaving early tomorrow. If you're coming, be packed and ready to leave by seven,' he told her, and with a curt nod in Doyle's direction, he left.
Sheena stared at the closed door, then back at Doyle also looking at the door with a grim expression on his face. 'You didn't even thank him for returning the money, Doyle,' she said sadly.
Doyle's lips clamped together. 'I might have done,' he replied grimly, 'if he hadn't had the nerve to think he could just walk in here and whisk you back to some outlying broken-down holding. And what you're thinking of in agreeing to go with him is beyond me. What do you know about the man? Nothing ! What sort of a man would give a stranger a job without looking into his background?' His jaw squared. 'He must have been hard up for help, that's all I can say ! '
`Or he might be a very kind man who wanted to help someone,' answered Sheena quietly. 'Father didn't use that money he stole, and he must have needed work of some kind,' she reminded him.
`Then more fool he,' Doyle rapped out scathingly. `He took it, didn't he? He might just as well have used it.'
Sheena winced at this bald statement. All the hurt
and shame she had undergone for the past three years washed over her again. The fact that her father had not used the money and had returned it to Doyle, counted for nothing in Doyle's eyes.
His aggression vanished as he looked at Sheena and he put an arm around her slim waist. 'Think what it cost me, Sheena,' he said softly. 'We would have been married but for that.'
Sheena moved away from his' encircling arm. He hadn't chosen a very good time to show her that he still cared. 'And now, Doyle?' she said, her clear eyes searching his.
Her heart was thudding as she waited for his reply. He looked away from her and stared at the saddlebag now lying between them on the study floor. She felt the coldness gathering around them and knew that nothing had changed. She would go North—anything was better than this. Doyle would marry one of his mother's friends' daughters. Perhaps that was what he was waiting for? For her to leave the way clear for him.
She turned and made for the door and at his urgent, 'Wait, Sheena!' she faced him. 'It's all right, Doyle,' she said wearily. 'I ought to have known better. Will you tell your mother I'll be leaving in the morning?' She did not wait for a reply, but went straight to her room to start her packing.
* * *
CHAPTER TWO
SHEENA was packed long before lunch, wishing she could walk out then and there, and chiding herself for not having had the foresight to ask Clay Dayman where he was staying.
He had said that he had come fifty miles that morning, and that meant that he had probably come from Sydney, but it was unlikely that he had returned there, not if he was calling for her at seven the next morning.
She knew that there were many homesteads around that would oblige a traveller for an overnight stay, although the nearest would be about ten miles away. If he hadn't used quite such a blunt approach to Doyle, he would have spend the night at Barter's Ridge, she thought wretchedly. Although in all fairness, Doyle's attitude had been belligerent from the start, and had not exactly smoothed the way for good relations.
Her two medium-sized cases stood beside her bed, and held all that she possessed in the world. She and her father had moved into furnished quarters at the station, so there were no other encumbrances for her to worry about. Her main worry now was not to let herself get talked out of her decision.
Mrs Charter might put up a feeble resistance to the
* * *
move, for the sake of protocol if nothing else, but would inwardly welcome such an event. Sheena was certain that her thinking ran along the same lines as hers in that Doyle was biding his time in choosing her successor, and once she had gone, there would be a spate of suitable applicants paraded for his inspection.
Sheena closed her eyes to shut out these thoughts; at least she wouldn't be around to witness his mother's determined bid to find him a wife.
There was a light tap on her door, and Sheena squared her slim shoulders. It could be Doyle, or his mother. She glanced at her watch before she went to answer the knock. It was twelve-thirty. It would not be Doyle, she thought with an inward sigh of relief. Today was pay day for the station hands, and he would be away at the men's quarters for the pay-out and would then be off to the outlying settlements to settle their accounts, not returning until nightfall.
When she opened the door it was not Mrs Charter, but Cookie who stood there with a tray in her hand and an anxious look in her kindly brown eyes. `Thought you might like some sustenance,' she said brightly, and carried the tray into the room, setting it down on the bedside table. It was then that she saw the cases and turned to Sheena. 'You going somewhere?' she queried lightly, but her look was a worried one as it rested on Sheena.
`To the North,' replied Sheena, 'tomorrow.' `Tomorrow?' echoed Cookie. 'For how long?' she demanded. 'That Ranger—was it about your father?'
&
nbsp; Sheena nodded. 'He's not a Ranger, Cookie. His name is Clay Dayman, and he owns some property in Bellingen. Dad worked for him,' she replied slowly.
`Your dad ...?' Cookie began hesitantly.
`He's dead,' Sheena answered tonelessly. 'I don't know when it happened, or how. He left Mr Dayman a letter telling him where he'd hidden the money he took. Mr Dayman brought it back to Doyle.'
Cookie sank slowly on to the bed as she digested this news. 'You going for the funeral?' she asked.
Sheena shook her head. 'Mr Dayman didn't mention it. I guess that part of it was over with by the time he got the letter from Father.' She was silent for a moment or two, then added. 'I'm going for good, Cookie. Father left me a letter too. He had a smallholding of sorts and he's left it to me.' She looked hastily away from the sympathy she saw in Cookie's eyes. 'It's for the best, Cookie,' she added firmly. 'It's time I struck out on my own.'
`Doyle?' asked Cookie. 'Surely the return of the money
Sheena shrugged expressively. 'Apparently not,' she replied, managing to inject a dry note into her voice, knowing full well what Cookie was referring to. Now that the money has been returned, I'm free to do as I wish.'
Cookie's plump hands spread out in a gesture of hopelessness. 'Pride, Sheena, that's all it is. The Charters have always had too much pride. Even so,' she said thoughtfully, 'Doyle won't like it, and don't tell me different. I'd swear he had a row with that
man that was here. He looked like thunder when he left for the pay-out.'
'I don't think Mr Dayman was in a good mood, either,' commented Sheena with a wry smile. 'They didn't exactly hit it off from the beginning.'
Cookie gave a start at this and fumbled in her apron pocket. forgot to give you this,' she said, and handed Sheena a scrap of paper obviously torn out of a recipe book. It had an address on it. 'He gave me that as he left,' she said, 'and I had to jot it down before I forgot it. It's where he's staying tonight.'
Sheena looked at the address. 'Marshall's Way' was the name of the property, and she frowned. `Where's that, Cookie?' she asked perplexedly.
Cookie lifted her plump shoulders. 'I thought I knew every homestead from here to Sydney,' she replied, 'but that's a new one on me. That's why I wrote it down.'
It was not much use having the address if she did not know where the property was, Sheena thought with an inward sigh.
Cookie suddenly sat up straight. It's old Mr Bounty's place ! It must be ! ' she exclaimed. 'Remember it was bought by a lawyer from Windsor a few months ago?' she reminded Sheena, with a note of satisfaction in her voice for having unravelled the mystery.
Sheena's frown lifted. `You're right, Cookie. It must be !' she replied, feeling a surge of relief flow over her, for the property was only fifteen miles away from Barter's Ridge, and hardly any distance by car.
The news uplifted her, and she no longer felt alone.
She had been dreading the last evening spent at Barter's Ridge. Usually she had dinner with the family, but if they had company Sheena deliberately absented herself, and ate with Cookie in the kitchen. She was thinking of the miserable meal ahead of her that evening, with a furious Doyle bent on making her change her mind and Mrs Carter having to add her weight to the argument, in spite of her personal thoughts on the matter. 'If only I could go now,' she said, speaking her thoughts aloud.
Cookie gave her a hurt look that made her feel immediately contrite. 'Oh, I didn't really mean it like that, Cookie,' she added hastily. 'I shall miss you all terribly, but I have to go, you do see that, don't you? I might not get another chance.'
A slow nod of the head showed that Cookie agreed with Sheena on this point. 'Some folk don't know when they're well off,' she commented sadly. No one holds anything against you.' She gave an expressive shrug and sighed loudly. 'Of course, if you did marry Doyle, then the pussies would get to work, there's no doubt of that. Sheer blind frustration on the part of the disappointed mammas would ensure that, but you've the disposition to ride all that if the Charters could only swallow their pride—as it is ' She got up from the bed and patted Sheena on the shoulder in a motherly way. 'You go, girl. You're better out of it.
Sheena gave her a slight hug. 'I knew you'd understand, Cookie,' she said mistily.
Cookie turned away swiftly so that Sheena would
not see the mistiness gathering in her own eyes. 'Well, I suppose I ought to get on. The Maxtons are coming to dinner, and you know how fussed the Missus gets if things aren't served on time, and she's chosen a fancy menu to outdo Mrs. Maxton's last dinner party.'
Sheena's eyes lit up. 'I didn't know there was going to be company this evening,' she exclaimed, as she felt a rush of relief flow over her at the thought that her presence would not be required at the dinner table.
`I was only told this morning,' grumbled Cookie. `I suppose the Maxtons' French cook is having one of her temperamental lapses again. It wouldn't be so bad if those two didn't try to compete against each other like they do. It's like being in the middle of a firing line,' she added dolefully as she left.
As Sheena ate a little of the light lunch Cookie had brought her, she wondered if Cookie's surmise about the Maxtons' cook throwing a tantrum was true. She had not known about the dinner party before the morning break or she would have told Sheena. It had been shortly after their coffee break that Clay Dayman had arrived, so the dinner party had been arranged since then.
Sheena could not be certain, but she could see the advantage such an arrangement would bring to what must be a very anxious Mrs Charter. She would be terrified that Doyle would ask Sheena to marry him rather than lose her, and this was the last thing Mrs Charter wanted to happen.
Her choice of guests for this very sudden dinner
party, added to Sheena's calculations that it was a deliberate ploy to distract Doyle from such a disastrous course. The Maxtons had a very pretty daughter who had had the right upbringing to satisfy Amelia Charter's strict sense of social pride, and there was no denying that Doyle liked Jenny Maxton, and Jenny adored Doyle.
Sheena pushed away her half-finished plate of salad on this thought. She liked Jenny Maxton, and although the thought hurt, she would rather Doyle married her than one of the two other contenders that Mrs Charter had in mind.
Her heart went out to Doyle who would now be sitting at the large old office table in the manager's office, personally attending to the pay-out. He had al-ways carried out this task, although the manager was quite capable of looking after this side of affairs for him.
Sheena had often sat beside him during their courting days, listening to his authoritative voice answering whatever queries the men had, and giving them an opportunity to air their grievances since most of them worked in the outlying sections of the station. Thus it was a payout and a general chat occasion that could not be hurried, and saved Doyle the necessity of having to rush off to distant sections in order to settle any disputes that arose during the working day.
She remembered the way he would suddenly look at her with a message in his eyes saying that he loved her, and her heart would pound in anticipation of the time when they would be alone together and he
would kiss her into the land of paradise.
Sheena's small hands clenched together. His love had not been strong enough to withstand her father's folly in taking that money. She no longer thought of it as a crime. He hadn't spent the money, and she couldn't understand why he had succumbed to temptation in the first place. He was getting a good wage—all Doyle's men were well paid. They had no debts, and although not rich, they had all that they needed. At least, she had thought so, but apparently her father must have wanted other things. She had been so caught up in the whirl of Doyle's courtship that she had not noticed anything different about him. He had always been a quiet man, and she knew that the loss of her mother had hit him hard, although he had never said so.
She swallowed. Thinking about these things did not make her situation any easier. It was done with, as were her hopes of
a future as Doyle's wife.
As if to thrust these memories away from her, Sheena got up hastily and picked up the tray to take down to the kitchen. She would have to see Mrs Charter, and now was as good a time as any. Doyle would have told her the news, of this she was certain, since she could not have been ignorant of the fact that Sheena had had a visitor that morning, and would have made a point of quizzing Doyle on the matter. There was not a great deal that Mrs Charter missed on the home front.
Cookie was busy making vol-au-vent cases when she entered the kitchen, and Sheena promised to give
her a hand after she had had a word with Mrs Charter. 'I'd better get it over with,' she commented with an ironic smile.
`You'll have to wait until this evening, then,' replied Cookie, putting a thin coating of flour on her pastry board. 'She's out visiting the Frosts, and that means that she won't be back until sevenish.'
Sheena's gaze fixed on the pastry board. This appeared to be a day of unexpected happenings. Mrs Charter had said nothing of a visit to the Frost family the day before. They were their nearest neighbours on the southern boundary, and far enough away to ensure an afternoon's absence for the visitor. It could have been a coincidence that she had chosen that afternoon for the visit, Sheena thought, but she very much doubted it, and instinctively knew that she was not going to be given a chance of a private word with her before she left the following morning.
As she took an apron out of the dresser drawer and put it on, her feelings were mixed. She was relieved that she had been saved the necessity of listening to Mrs Charter's insincere lamentations on losing her so suddenly. On the other hand, it seemed a poor return for her past service to the family, and she had done nothing to deserve this parting snub on Amelia Charter's part.