High Country Hero

by Ford, Holly

  Too late? ‘I think it might be,’ Lennie said gently. Fifteen years too late.

  The unfamiliar expression was back on Benji’s face. ‘We’d be good together,’ he said. ‘I mean, I’ve always thought that. Haven’t you?’

  She smiled again. ‘I’m not so sure. But you know what?’ Leaning across the table, she patted his hand. ‘We’ll always have chemistry.’

  •

  That night, Lennie stood in the doorway watching Mitch manoeuvre the Land Cruiser neatly into her grandparents’ drive. As he got out of the cab, she released Pesh’s collar, pleased to see her dog stroll grandly across the gravel to meet the truck. Pesh’s dignity was back. Mitch dropped a hand to the dog’s ear, giving it a casual rub. Watching Pesh return glued to his side, Lennie tried not to laugh. Pesh looked even more besotted with Mitch than she was.

  ‘Hey.’ Lennie slid her arms around his neck.

  ‘Hey.’ Dropping his bag on the step, Mitch kissed her softly, her waist between his hands. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t get here for the weekend.’

  She shook her head. ‘That’s okay. You’ve been busy.’ Lennie led him into the house. ‘I’ve been getting a running commentary on everything you’ve been doing for the last week.’ She closed the door behind them.

  ‘Yeah.’ Mitch took her by the hips. ‘People are good like that.’ ‘I heard you were flying second helicopter for a Taiwanese film crew at Treble Peak.’

  ‘Koreans at Three Rivers. But close.’ Pulling back a little, he gave her a more serious look. ‘I heard you were moving to the States.’

  ‘Interesting,’ Lennie said. ‘I heard I was staying in Kimpton for good because I’d fallen for some Mountain Rescue pilot.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. Lennie’s heart caught as his face broke into a smile. ‘I heard that one too.’ He kissed her again.

  ‘I looked at a house on Saturday,’ she told him. ‘That one for sale up the road.’

  ‘Yeah?’ There was a gleam in Mitch’s eyes.

  Lennie tapped a finger against his chest. ‘You heard that as well, didn’t you?’

  ‘A second viewing,’ he said. ‘The vendors think you might put in an offer soon.’

  She smiled. ‘Don’t tell anyone—’ Lennie watched his face ‘—but they’re right.’

  ‘You really are staying,’ Mitch said.

  She wrapped her fingers around his shirt collar. ‘I really am.’

  ‘It’s a good-looking house,’ he said, the humour in his eyes growing. ‘I can see you living there.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Lennie tugged his shirt. ‘Me too.’ The muscles of his neck flexed under her hand as she brought his mouth to hers.

  ‘I’m making dinner,’ she remembered, eventually. ‘You haven’t eaten, have you?’ Hearing herself, she let out a laugh. ‘God, I’m turning into my grandmother.’

  ‘We should both be so lucky.’

  ‘Come on.’ Lennie took his hand. ‘Come through.’

  In the kitchen, Mitch settled onto a stool as she poured them a glass of wine.

  ‘I spoke to Jack Grieve last week,’ she told him. She’d called Jack to explain why she’d pulled out of the recruitment race for Chicago. ‘He offered to do some acclimatisation work with Chase if you like. Start getting him ready for life in the West, all the new things he’s going to encounter. You know, TVs, vacuum cleaners, that sort of thing.’

  Mitch gave her a dry look. ‘This is a dog who’s been under mortar attack and hopped a Chinook. I think he can handle a vacuum cleaner.’

  Lennie smiled.

  ‘If Jack can show him a sheep, that might be useful.’ Mitch eyed the vegetables she was chopping. ‘Can I do anything?’

  ‘Actually,’ it occurred to her, ‘can you check on the fire?’ Lennie threw the chicken into the pan.

  Mitch returned from the living room clutching the empty log basket. ‘Where do you keep your firewood?’

  ‘In the paddock, behind the shed.’ Shit. She’d forgotten to order some more again. ‘It’s a bit of a grovel out there, I’m sorry. We’re nearly out.’ Flicking the outside lights on, Lennie glanced at the card on the fridge. Was it too late to call the guy now?

  Deciding it wasn’t, she picked up the phone as Mitch walked out the back door, wedging the handset against her shoulder as she got on with slicing the mushrooms.

  ‘Brock here,’ an abrupt male voice announced in her ear.

  ‘Hi,’ she said brightly. ‘Look, it’s Lennie O’Donnell calling, Jim O’Donnell’s granddaughter up on Chalfont Road. Sorry to disturb you so late—’

  ‘You’ll be wanting your firewood.’

  ‘Yes please.’ Lennie flipped the chicken. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could drop a load round tomorrow?’

  ‘Is somebody going to be home?’

  ‘Do you need them to be?’ she asked, surprised.

  ‘I s’pose not,’ the voice admitted, gruffly. ‘But can you make sure that bloody dog’s shut away this time?’

  Lennie put the knife down, holding the phone to her ear properly. ‘What do you mean, this time?’

  •

  Five days later, Lennie turned from filling the firebox to confront her grandfather in his chair.

  ‘So what happened? What did the specialist say? Did he give you a stage?’

  ‘Stage two,’ Jim said evenly.

  Two? ‘Out of seven?’ she checked.

  He nodded.

  ‘But that’s nothing.’ Lennie stared at him. ‘That’s no dementia.’ ‘No dementia yet,’ Jim said brusquely. ‘That’s what he thinks, anyway.’ His gaze wandered to the drinks cabinet. ‘It’s just one bloke’s opinion.’

  ‘Well, what else did he say?’

  ‘He said it sounded like your grandfather had been suffering from mild depression,’ Lois informed her, stowing the whisky bottle Jim was eyeing back in the cupboard. ‘He told him to lay off the Scotch, and next time he hears hoofbeats, he should think horses, not zebras.’

  ‘Easy to say when you’re not the one living on the Serengeti,’ Jim said, ‘eh Dak?’

  ‘Grandpa,’ Lennie began.

  ‘Speaking of zebras,’ Lois broke in. Parking herself on the arm of Jim’s chair, her eyes gleamed down at him.

  Jim shook his head. ‘Alright,’ he admitted. ‘Alright. It was amazing.’ He rolled his eyes at Lennie, laughing in defeat. ‘I have to say, Dak, I’ve never seen anything like it. That opening scene…’

  ‘I thought,’ Lois said smugly, ‘that the cheetahs were the best.’

  Lennie grinned. ‘I’m glad you had a good time.’

  ‘The first of many.’ Lois put her hand over Jim’s.

  ‘We’ll see,’ he said gruffly.

  ‘Grandpa,’ Lennie tried again, Lois’s smile still reflecting on her own face, ‘there’s somebody I think you need to talk to.’

  Her grandfather sighed. ‘If you’re going to try to get me to apologise to Mitch Stuart…’ He shot Lois a look. ‘Well, you might have a point.’

  ‘Good to hear,’ Lennie teased him. ‘He’s coming round for dinner tonight, so you can knock yourself out.’ She paused. ‘But no, that’s not what I meant. There’s somebody else you should see.’

  •

  ‘It was wet.’ Brock stood on the rug beside the kitchen bench like a man on trial, hands behind his back, staring down at his worksocks. ‘I didn’t want to stop the truck on your lawn, so I walked up and opened the paddock gate as well. You know. So I could drive all the way through.’

  Lennie watched her grandfather’s eyes flare.

  ‘I couldn’t see any stock in there,’ Brock said. ‘I didn’t think it’d matter.’

  ‘You didn’t see the deer?’ Jim said.

  ‘It must have been in the trees.’ Brock shook his head. ‘I opened the gate and that bloody thing just came at me out of nowhere.’ He cast a nervous glance at the laundry door. Behind it, Pesh gave another highly audible growl. ‘Chased me all the way back to the truck. It wouldn’t let me ge
t out.’

  ‘So,’ Jim said, ‘you just drove away without closing the gates?’ Brock shifted on the rug.

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ Lennie said. ‘I’m sorry Pesh chased you. We just want to know what happened, that’s all.’

  ‘I didn’t see there was stock in there,’ Brock said.

  ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ Jim said sternly. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  Brock shrugged. ‘I didn’t think much of it. I had a lot of wood to deliver that day. I figured when you wanted yours, you’d call.’

  ‘But you must have heard about my granddaughter’s dog getting shot.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Brock pulled a face. ‘I guess I might have heard something about that down the pub, but I didn’t figure it had anything to do with me. I mean, the thing was fine when I left.’ He glanced back at Lennie. ‘I didn’t know it was the same day.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘Nobody’s blaming you.’

  Jim made a noise under his breath.

  ‘Grandpa, the point—what Brock was nice enough to come here and explain—is that he was the one who left the gates open.’

  Her grandfather lowered his head, staring at the bench.

  ‘I mean—’ Lennie circled to stand between the two men ‘—they were both closed when you got here. Right?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Brock said. ‘Both gates were shut.’

  There was a long pause. Lennie noticed Jim’s shoulders beginning to tremble.

  ‘I’m sorry about your dog,’ Brock said. ‘And your deer.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ she repeated, ushering him towards the door. ‘Thanks for coming and talking to us. And thanks for bringing the firewood again. We’ll make sure the dog’s locked well away next time.’

  When Lennie got back from showing Brock out, Jim was still standing in the same position she’d left him, his hands spread on the benchtop, gazing fiercely at the stone.

  ‘Grandpa?’

  Lois took Lennie’s elbow. ‘Come on,’ she said gently, leading her out to the living room and closing the doors. ‘Let’s just give him a minute or two.’

  Epilogue

  Leaning in the open doorway of Gorge Hut, Lennie watched the white shapes melt out of the shadows cloaking the river flats. High above the still-snow-heavy mountains, the light was lingering in the summer sky, and ahead of her, Broken Creek River wandered out of the softening distance, the water reflecting the cold, clean blue overhead. As the shapes got closer, she could see the dogs running in and out of the shallows, Mitch’s dark figure behind them harder to make out against the scrub of the flat, blending into the dusk as he followed them downstream.

  The brisk wind that had been at their backs as she and Mitch drove up from the homestead had fallen away on the heels of the sun, and the evening was still enough to hear the splash as one of the dogs attempted to trail a low-flying duck across the water.

  Pesh was first off the shingle, her pace quickening to a lope as she spotted Lennie on the porch. At the edge of the riverbed, Chase paused, waiting. Mitch made his way up the bank without hurry, his face lost in shadow. With equal tranquillity, Chase fell in at his heels.

  Too late, Lennie strove to keep Pesh away from her jeans. Pulling the hut door to behind her just in time, she let out a small squeal as Pesh shook the remains of Broken Creek River out of her fur.

  ‘Look,’ Lennie laughed, watching Chase shake himself off a respectable distance away from Mitch on the grass. ‘That’s how you’re supposed to do it.’

  ‘You know,’ she added, as Mitch stepped onto the porch, ‘I think that’s the furthest away from you I’ve seen him.’

  Wordlessly, Mitch pulled her under his arm. Lennie leaned back against the doorframe as he kissed her in that slow, sure way of his, the way her body craved. Surfacing out of it, she dropped her hands to his hips, settling her fingers in the loops of his jeans. Around his shoulder, she studied the dog who had come so far.

  Chase was a little smaller than Pesh, a little heavier in the chest and neck, lighter in the hindquarters, more tawny of eye and muzzle. Three weeks ago in the quarantine kennels, he and Mitch had stood sizing each other up in the careful, thoughtful way it had fast become apparent they shared, and somewhat to Lennie’s embarrassment it had been her side that Chase had chosen to glue himself to. Watching Mitch slide one of the hospital’s slip collars over Chase’s ears, it had occurred to her to wonder if, in all his years of working with dogs, he’d ever actually walked one on a lead before.

  At the sight of the wire crate in the back of Lennie’s newly rebranded Central Veterinary Hospital ute, Chase had balked, throwing back his considerable weight.

  ‘Come on, mate, in you go.’ Before Lennie could even start thinking about the best way to handle the problem, Mitch had casually scooped Chase off his paws. From that moment, the big, wary dog going limp in his arms, Chase had been wholeheartedly Mitch’s dog.

  ‘Last leg of the trip,’ he’d told Chase, depositing him in the crate. ‘It’s not as bad as you think. Just a ground transport this time.’

  Now, on the grass in front of the hut, Chase finished his investigation of the tussock and strolled onto the porch. Settling down on the edge of the boards, one front paw dangling over the top step, he looked out over the river, his white-gold ears pricked. In front of him, the twin valleys curved out of sight, meandering into the ranks of the hills that rose to the horizon. Not so much as a single wire as far as the eye could see.

  Lennie felt a lump rise in her throat. This had been a long time coming for Chase.

  When she looked up, Mitch was smiling. ‘Stop worrying,’ he ordered. ‘Whatever happened to him, he’s through it. He’s on the other side now.’

  She settled her cheek against Mitch’s chest.

  ‘Jim and Lois get back next week,’ he said, ‘right?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ There was a postcard from every Italian port on their cruise stuck to the door of the fridge. ‘Perfect timing.’

  ‘So you’ll be moving back into your place?’

  Lennie nodded. ‘Next weekend.’ The villa’s bathroom was finished, the new kitchen finally in. ‘Barry just finished the tiling yesterday.’

  ‘All these renovations you’ve been doing,’ Mitch said. ‘They’ve got me thinking about my place. I’m starting to feel like it’s missing something.’

  ‘Nine hundred kilopascals of hot-water pressure?’ she joked.

  ‘You,’ Mitch said. Lennie looked up into his grin. ‘I’ve pretty much gone off the place when you’re not in it.’

  ‘Ah.’ She drew his hips closer to hers. ‘Maybe what you need is a base closer to town.’ Half his things were already at her place. ‘Somewhere with a brand-new kitchen and an R22-sized lawn?’

  ‘Plus a lot of glass lamps and a reindeer-skin rug,’ he said. ‘It’d have to have those.’

  ‘Somewhere like that would be perfect for you during the week,’ Lennie agreed, with mock seriousness. ‘Weekends, though…’

  ‘Weekends,’ Mitch said, ‘you might want somewhere closer to here.’ The gleam in his eyes grew. ‘Somewhere your business manager can’t call you.’

  ‘Are you asking me to move in with you?’

  ‘That depends.’ His grin broadened. ‘Are you asking me?’

  Lennie nodded, laughter welling.

  In front of them, Pesh lay down on the step beside Chase, her muzzle to his shoulder. Mitch wound a strand of Lennie’s hair around his fingers, pulling it straight.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ she asked him, as his smile continued to grow.

  ‘I’m thanking Christ that I didn’t know what I was getting myself into when I walked into the Glenmore pub that night,’ he said. ‘I would have ditched the burger and run a hundred miles.’

  Lennie laughed again. Yep. She didn’t doubt that for a moment.

  ‘I guess there’s a lot to be said for staying put.’ Mitch’s arms closed around her. ‘You never know what might find you.’

  ‘It’
s funny,’ she said, ‘I always thought you found me.’

  ‘Maybe I’ve got better instincts than I think.’

  ‘Maybe we both do.’ She craned her neck back, checking his face. ‘What are they telling you now?’

  ‘That I’m going to need some extra wardrobe space.’

  ‘Yeah.’ She kissed his mouth. ‘Me too.’

  On the step, Chase nudged Pesh’s paw. Pesh raised her muzzle, watching over the spread of the river below, sniffing the summer dusk as Chase rolled onto his side and settled his grizzled head against her chest. Letting out a long sigh, Chase closed his eyes.

  A huge thank you to

  Dr Megan Alderson, BVSc, The Strand Veterinarian, Parnell

  Dr Alex Walker, BVSc (Dist) MACVSc, Veterinary Specialist Group, Auckland

  for their time, expertise and general awesomeness, and for their generosity and compassion in treating dogs both fictional and real.

  Thanks, too, to a Maremma sheepdog who came along to share my sandwich one day.

  Holly Ford grew up in a farming community in the Hokonui Hills in the South Island of New Zealand. She now shares her own small patch of hill country with her family, an ever-increasing population of magpies and hares, and the occasional vacationing dairy cow. Her bestselling novels, packed with gutsy women who aren’t afraid to take what they want and men who are worth their trouble, celebrate life and love in some of the world’s most rugged farming country.

  www.hollyford.net