Christmas at Brigadier Station
Sarah Williams
Copyright © 2019 by Sarah Williams
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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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ISBN 978-0-6485379-3-9 Print Edition
ISBN 978-0-6485379-2-2 Digital Edition
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Serenade Publishing
www.serenadepublishing.com
To my son, Toby
Contents
Also by Sarah Williams
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
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Sarah Williams
Also by Sarah Williams
Also by Sarah Williams
Also by Sarah Williams
Also by Sarah Williams
Acknowledgments
Also by Sarah Williams
Brigadier Station Series:
The Brothers of Brigadier Station
The Sky over Brigadier Station
The Legacies of Brigadier Station
The Outback Governess (A Sweet Outback Novella)
Christmas at Brigadier Station (An Outback Christmas Novella)
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Heart of the Hinterland Series:
The Dairy Farmer’s Daughter
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For more information visit:
www.sarahwilliamsauthor.com
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In February 2019, outback Queenslanders went to bed grateful for drought-breaking rain, but awoke to a sea of disaster.
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Over 650,000 stock were lost after a years worth of rain fell in a matter of days. The flood waters rose suddenly, forming a wall of water up to 70km wide. Record depths were reached along the Flinders River, submerging 25,000 square kilometres of country.
Wildlife were stranded. Many drowned or starved.
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This book is dedicated to everyone involved in this disaster. Life in the outback is full of challenges and hardships, but it also breeds people tough enough to endure them.
Chapter One
Harriet pushed her glasses up her nose and squinted at the screen in front of her. Did she want to purchase it in fuchsia or bubblegum? They both looked so similar. What was the difference? Which coloured shirt would Hannah prefer? Her granddaughter loved all things pink, but who knew if that would still be true in a few months? Pink might go out of fashion, or she might suddenly like purple more. Or green.
In exasperation, she clicked the first option and pressed buy. She could always return it, just like she’d returned plenty of the clothes she bought online only to find they didn’t fit right or the style didn’t suit her. Sometimes she missed shopping in stores, especially now she was getting more mature and the clothes that had complemented her brown hair didn’t suit the white strands overtaking them.
All part of the ageing process. She wasn’t a vain woman but she liked to think she still looked alright for being close to sixty now. She even liked the white hair. The streaks of grey had only lasted a year before all her hair had turned snowy white. Last week she had treated herself to a hair appointment and come out with a stylish, short new cut with layers and a sweeping fringe. Her sister, Beverly, hadn’t stopped commenting on it when Harriet had dropped by afterwards. Beverly’s hair was still mousy brown and she wore it long, past her shoulders.
She typed in her credit card details and address and finished the transaction. How many presents was that now? Eight for Hannah and two for each of the adults? She counted them out with her fingers as she went through all her children and their partners. Lachie and Abbie, Darcy and Meghan, Noah and Riley. She had also bought something for her yet-to-arrive grandchild. Meghan had just entered her final trimester and wore her round belly with pride. After all she and Darcy had gone through to get this far into a pregnancy, Meghan wasn’t going to take any risks. She had even stopped riding. Molly had come to live at Brigadier Station again and Hannah spent all her spare time with the old mare.
Harriet stood from the desk in Lachie’s office and made her way down the hall. She paused outside Hannah’s room and grinned. Lachie and Hannah were in town right now, picking up the new curtains and bedspreads which had finally arrived from Brisbane. The walls were freshly painted and the white single bed was very modern and functional with storage and a pull-out trundle bed under it. No doubt the spare bed would get plenty of use when Hannah started inviting friends over for sleepovers.
Harriet and Lachie had lived together in this house for the last few years. In just a few days, Abbie and Hannah would officially give up the lease on their town house and move to the station permanently. Harriet loved having them here, filling the empty rooms with laughter and giving the adults something else to think about. Something other than this never-ending drought and all it brought with it.
Her heart clenched as she thought of her dear friend Maddie, now a widow, raising her two children alone in Mt Isa. Her husband, Dylan, had committed suicide earlier this year.
Lachie and Abbie had found him.
Their property, neighbouring Brigadier Station, had already been on the brink of bankruptcy, so Maddie had had no choice but to leave and hope a private buyer showed interest.
There had been rumours in town that international investment companies were snooping around, ready to snap it up at a bargain price. Then another rumour had started—that an Australian family had purchased it and were already moving in.
That was when Harriet had received the call from Margaret, the CWA president and head of all town news. “Would you mind popping over and welcoming them to town?” she’d asked. “We’re all so curious and I’m sure Maddie would like to know who bought her property.”
In the kitchen, Harriet checked that her famous blueberry muffins had cooled. If she was going to be the welcoming committee for her new neighbours, she couldn’t arrive empty-handed.
She chose a plastic container and filled it with the grey and blue muffins. They had left a sugary-sweet smell in the room. Lachie would know exactly what she had spent her morning baking. These were his favourites. Luckily, she had made two batches—enough for her hungry family’s afternoon tea when they arrived home.
After dabbing on some lipstick, Harriet gathered the container and her keys and headed outside to her Land Cruiser. She opened the door and put her things on the passenger seat before frowning. Something was different.
She turned her gaze skyward.
No, it can’t be …
Are those rain clouds forming?
The grey shadows over the land and the humidity in the air seemed to agree. Harriet stared for a few more minutes, praying that they wouldn’t suddenly dissipate like they had so many times before. They needed rain. The
earth was thirsty and cracked below her feet. The animals needed something more nourishing than the usual cottonseed.
Please, please let it rain.
Hope filled her belly but she knew better than to get too excited. They would need a decent drop to start repairing the damage the drought had caused.
She walked around the vehicle and climbed into the driver’s seat, focusing on the task at hand and not the hope that their fortunes may be about to change.
The drive to their nearest neighbour still took ten minutes on the main road. The big yellow For Sale sign was caked in dust, except for the glossy new sticker pasted on top stating it was now sold.
I hope they’re nice people.
In the outback, you needed good neighbours. Folk you could rely on in an emergency. People who would look after their boundary fences and firebreaks. Neighbours usually became your best friends too, since you didn’t tend to get to town much and often wouldn’t see another face for days or even weeks.
Nearing the house, she didn’t notice any vehicles and wondered if they were out. Margaret had said they’d moved in, but maybe she had been misinformed. It wouldn’t be the first time.
She parked in the same spot she had always parked in when visiting Maddie and got out of the car. The silence was deafening. Harriet hadn’t been back since Maddie had left and that had been months ago.
With the container in her hands, Harriet wandered around the house calling out, “Yoo-hoo, anyone here?”
No reply.
A muffled banging sound had her turning towards the old corrugated shed surrounded by an assortment of other farm buildings. She followed the noise until she spotted a figure dressed in grey coveralls, leaning over the engine of an old tractor. The grease-smeared pants were pulled tight and moulded over strong-looking thighs and buttocks. She took a moment to appreciate the fine specimen of man before clearing her throat.
When that didn’t work she walked a few steps closer and called out a hello.
The man’s head shot up in such a hurry, it banged against the lid of the tractor which was opened at a sixty-five-degree angle. He muttered an oath as she rushed forward.
“I’m so sorry to surprise you. I was calling out but—”
Holding one weathered hand against his head, the man slowly turned to meet her worried gaze.
She had expected him to be a young man. A sprightly new ringer or farmhand, not someone more her own age. ‘A silver fox’ she remembered Meghan once saying to describe an attractive older man. The description suited him with his thinning brown hair on top and a section of silver above each ear. The many lines on his face were deep but his brown eyes were kind and somehow familiar.
“Hi.” He lowered his hand, glancing at it as though expecting to see blood. He must have really hit his head.
“Are you okay? I can call the flying doctor. Or take you into town; my son’s girlfriend is a nurse at the hospital.”
He shook his head. “No, no. It’s just a bump. I’ll be fine.” He smiled then and it was as though his whole face lit up. Then he extended his hand for her to shake. “I’m Tom. Tom Carmody.” He extended his hand for her to shake.
Her heart pounded. It couldn’t be him, could it?
She placed her hand in his and he squeezed it gently. She let it go on for a moment longer than etiquette required before withdrawing and finding her voice. “I’m Harriet McGuire. Your neighbour from Brigadier Station.”
A frown creased his brow as he searched her face. The moment he recognised her his eyes widened and glimmered - the same way they had all those years ago.
“Harriet? Is it really you? After all this time. I can’t believe it.”
She nodded. “I used to be Harriet Foster when we were at school.”
“Wow. What’s it been, forty years?” His gaze swept over her. “You look great.”
She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. “What are you doing here? Didn’t your family live closer to Hughenden?” She tried to remember the details of their secret conversations.
He leaned against the tractor. “Yeah, I just passed it down to my son, Brian. He was itching to take it over and I was ready for a new challenge.”
She tilted her head. “Is this place yours?” She looked around for proof of ownership. “You bought it?”
He nodded proudly and she wondered if he was wearing rose-coloured glasses. The station had gone deep into disrepair over the years. Without a huge injection of cash and a lot of hard work, it was little more than a flat patch of dust. There weren’t any animals left, not even chooks.
“I know what you’re thinking.” He smiled. “What the hell am I doing? But I have big plans for this place. Once it rains, I’m going to restock it and turn things around.”
“But why here? Why this property?” she asked before adding in a lowered voice, “What does your wife think?”
“My ex-wife thinks I’m nuts. So do our kids.” He straightened and moved so he could gaze out at the empty paddock. “But where everyone else sees desolation, I see potential.” He turned back to her. “And beauty.”
She took a deep breath and tried to keep her brain focused on their conversation. “So, you’re here alone then?”
“I am.” He nodded at the homestead. “It’s a real bachelor pad in there, but I have a kettle and tea bags. Would you like a cuppa?”
Her heart skipped a beat and she remembered the muffins. “I’d love one. I actually brought you some morning tea.”
“A woman after my own heart.” He winked at her and swept his hand towards the house, waiting for her to lead the way.
Face burning, hope flaring, she drew in a deep breath.
Chapter Two
Tom waited a beat before following Harriet, and took the opportunity to appreciate the figure she cut in her black pants and navy shirt. She looked amazing. And that hair—it was so white, giving her a graceful almost royal quality he didn’t quite understand.
Memories buried deep began to surface. They had only attended boarding school together for one year but it hadn’t been until the last day of term that he had built up the nerve to talk to her.
“It looks like it might actually rain,” she said, pointing to the clouds forming above them.
He paused to take in the sight. “Wow. Been a long time since I’ve seen those kinds of clouds.” His family station in Hughenden had been suffering the drought too. It might have been closer to the coast, but it was just as dry and dusty as Julia Creek. The only real differences were the occasional hills around his hometown.
Inside the house, Tom ushered Harriet into a seat at the table and set about finding the tea bags. He caught her eyeing the sparsely furnished house. “I plan on getting more furniture,” he said, suddenly ashamed that all he had was a pine table and four chairs, a couch, and a lamp. He didn’t have a TV. He never watched it anyway and certainly wasn’t a fan of the new shows his children talked about. He preferred to listen to the ABC radio and keep up with the news and stories that way.
“No, it’s not that.” Harriet’s voice was tinged with sadness. “I knew the previous owners very well. It’s weird being here now.”
He paused his stirring. “Of course. I understand. Did they live here a long time?”
Harriet pulled the lid off the muffins, causing their fruity scent to fill the air. “Dylan grew up here and took it over about ten years ago. He was the same age as my sons and practically became family to us.”
Tom placed the mugs on the table and sat across from her. “I’m sorry for your loss.” He had heard about Dylan’s death, of course. That kind of news couldn’t be kept secret, even if you tried. Tom himself knew of graziers who were being treated for depression. He had talked to a counsellor himself after the separation, when everything had become too much to deal with.
Harriet pushed the muffins toward him. “I made these this morning. They’re Lachie’s favourites.”
Tom chose a muffin. “Is Lachie your …
husband?”
Harriet giggled. “No, he’s my son. He runs our property.”
Tom’s pulse quickened and he lowered his eyes to study a plump berry. “Are you still married?”
“No,” she said, quietly. “Daniel died many years ago now.”
Tom broke the muffin in half and placed a piece in his mouth. It was loaded with a sweet, zesty flavour. “This is so good,” he murmured.
The smile that crossed Harriet’s face made his heart jump. His palms itched to pull her into his arms and capture that smile with his kiss.
He felt like he had all those years ago, the last time they had met. When his teenage hormones had made him crazy with wanting her. But they had both been young—teenagers. Now, after all this time, he found those same feelings bubbling up inside him.
He tried to conceal what he was thinking when he met her gaze, but she looked at him with those amazing blue eyes and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep anything secret. He watched as a blush spread over her cheeks.
Was that a flare of desire in her eyes? Or merely his wishful thinking?
She cleared her throat. “When you get settled in you’ll have to come over for dinner and meet Lachie and his family. His partner, Abbie, and their daughter are moving in this week.”
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