by Mandy Magro
She and Jay had made it to the Southern Cross Hotel just in time, minutes before Col and Faith had locked the doors for the night. Taylor was pleasantly surprised with how warm and welcoming the family was — Col and Faith’s daughter, Zoe, even offering to cook a hot meal. Taylor had declined, even though she was ravenous, feeling bad enough for arriving right on closing time. From first impressions, Zoe seemed like a top chick and Taylor was looking forward to getting to know her better and having the opportunity to come to her own conclusions after what Jay had said about her. This would be easy since she’d be working behind the bar with the girl: Col and Faith had offered her a job on the spot when Jay dropped the hint that she was looking for work. Taylor had also scored the worker’s apartment, another spot of great luck.
Taylor was extremely thankful to Jay and ecstatic she already had two job offers, one as a jillaroo and one as a barmaid. He’d stayed to settle her in, ignoring her protests, and refusing to just drop her off at the front door of the hotel, even though he had looked absolutely exhausted. He’d politely said goodnight once he was sure she was content.
Taylor wasn’t surprised she was thinking of Jay, he intrigued her. His deep brown eyes were so full of mystery and his aura so guarded and reserved, yet his playful, dimply grin so engaging. She wanted to know all about him and she hoped Zoe would be able to fill her in through casual conversation. In a small town like Driftwood, Taylor was certain the publican’s daughter would know everyone and everything about them. Wasn’t that how small towns worked? She predicted there would be something to stop her in her tracks, to shock her out of her lustfulness for Jay. There had to be. He was too much of a catch to not be already taken and if he was single, he was too gorgeous to not be a heartbreaker.
Trying to shake Jay from her thoughts, Taylor stretched her body to life, yawning contentedly. The clock on the bedside table showed it was just past nine in the morning. A sleep-in was just what the doctor had ordered after her exhausting but exciting couple of days on the road. She sat up, thrilled about what the day held — her very first day in Driftwood. Floyd sat up beside her, the sheet still half over his head, his tongue lolling out one side of his mouth. She glanced sideways at him, fighting to contain her amusement.
‘Oi, you cheeky bugger, what are you doing in my bed? I thought I told you to sleep on the floor?’ She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Col will kick us out if he knows you slept in the bed. He was undecided about you being in the room at all. It was only because of Faith’s insistence that he agreed!’
Floyd whined then tilted his head to the side, looking mighty cute as the sheet slid from him and onto the floor. Taylor ruffled his ears, chuckling. ‘If you don’t tell him, I won’t. It’s our little secret. Anyways, I reckon it’s time for some brekkie, don’t you? Those chips and chocolates we got from the vending machine haven’t filled the gap. And I’m not even going to start on the lack of nutritious value . . .’ Taylor licked her lips. ‘Hmm, I could go a nice big plate of fried eggs, mushrooms and bacon. And I’ll order you a bowl of raw mince, if they don’t mind, that is. I’m sure Faith won’t. She loved you!’ Taylor blew a long ringlet from her face. ‘But I’ll have to bring you yours outside. I don’t reckon Col’s going to let you sit with me in the hotel’s dining room. Sorry, buddy.’
Taylor leapt from the bed, skipped out to the living area and ripped the curtains open, her eyes watering instantly from the glare. In broad daylight the apartment looked different: a bit dated, but cosy, the walls a light shade of lemon yellow with old-fashioned pictures of country landscapes scattered about. The kitchen was tiny but very functional with a breakfast bench facing the small open-plan lounge room, the telly in prime position for when she was cooking up a storm, which she often did. Cooking was therapeutic for her. The scent of potpourri hung pleasantly in the air, a bowl of it sitting in the middle of the coffee table among a few magazines. It was a very welcoming space, she thought, and even better seeing it was now hers.
Grabbing a glass from the overhead cupboards and filling it from the tap, Taylor moseyed towards the front door, letting a tail-waggling Floyd out for a toilet run and hoping he would remember his way out to the paddock behind the hotel. While she waited for Floyd to return, she stood at the windows and took in the view. The lush gardens bordering her ground-floor apartment allowed a glimpse of Driftwood’s one and only road, where four-wheel drives travelled along slowly and country-clad pedestrians ran their morning errands. Just beyond that she spotted the unmistakable white froth of waves as they crashed upon a dazzling sandy beach. It all seemed so surreal. ‘Ahh Driftwood, my new home,’ she whispered, enthralled. It was exactly as she had imagined it to be when she had read the name on the road sign yesterday — quaint and gorgeous.
Taylor gulped the last mouthful from her cup, presuming it was rainwater, it tasted so good. Outside looked to be a gloriously sunny day, perfect weather for a bit of poking about the place, discovering what Driftwood had to offer and introducing herself to some of the locals. Not that it would take her long, considering there was only one road in and one road out.
Jay had already informed her that other than the usual community centre, primary school, high school, health clinic, fire station and police station, Driftwood’s shopping area consisted only of essential businesses: the Southern Cross Hotel, the Bendigo bank, the agriculture supply store, the post office-slash-chemist-slash-corner store, the petrol station-slash-take away and the hairdresser-slash-beautician-slash-gift shop. She had giggled at the combination of some of the businesses. After living in Brisbane all her life she had never seen anything like it.
First and foremost, though, after a shower and some hot food, she’d have to find a lift to go and pick up her Jeep. Her entire life was in there, but most importantly her cherished guitar. Grinning broadly, and with Floyd now back inside, she bounded towards the bathroom. For once in her life she felt like she was where she was meant to be, doing exactly what she was destined to do.
A muggy breeze whipped in through the open windows of the Holden ute, sending curls across Taylor’s clammy face. She tried to tuck the stray hair behind her ears but to no avail, her long locks taking on a life of their own in the wind. It was so nice to be driving along a road without the relentless noise of traffic assaulting her senses and the pulse of city life passing by out the window. Taylor closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of the country surrounding her, untainted air veiled with the salty aroma of the sea. It was to die for. The tropical draught did little to cool her down, but it was nice all the same, taking the harsh edge off the stifling summer heat. She had always known it was hotter up north, but nothing could have prepared her for just how hot, the humidity so thick she could barely breathe. January was apparently the muggiest month of the year in Driftwood due to the combination of the blistering sun and flash monsoonal showers. Not that she was complaining. There was something very sensual about feeling so lusciously warm. She loved it.
Zoe sat at the wheel, her glossy black bob swishing about her face, her seat as close to the steering column as it would go to accommodate her lack of height. She reminded Taylor of Uma Thurman when she’d played Mia Wallace in Pulp Fiction, almost a spitting image. Zoe was gorgeous, a younger version of her mum, Faith, with the same hazel eyes and flawless olive complexion; the complete opposite of her dad, Col, with his curly blond hair, immense build and fair, freckly skin.
Taylor licked her lips, the wind instantly drying them again. ‘So, tell me, Zoe, do you have a boyfriend?’
Zoe laughed raucously, a small snort escaping. ‘A boyfriend? Here, in Driftwood? Nah! There’s not much talent to choose from, the good-looking ones are either taken, or complete arseholes, and the not-so-good-looking ones are normally too nice to keep me interested. I tend to like the bad boys.’ Zoe sighed dreamily. ‘I am keen on someone who lives out of town, although nothing’s happened yet. But he’ll come round, eventually.’ Taylor raised her eyebrows. ‘I have ways to make any man fall at
my feet.’
‘An out of towner, you go, girl! And I’m hearing you about the bad boys. There’s just something about them, hey?’ Taylor said. With so much in common — country music, their taste in wayward men, and only one year’s difference in age (Zoe the younger one) — Taylor couldn’t help but really like her. Perhaps Jay’s dislike of Zoe was uncalled for; some people just didn’t get on, that was life, and maybe that was the simple case for him and Zoe.
‘Uh huh. Sure is. They get the fire going and the loins tingling. But because of my preference for the bad ones, any guy that even looks at me suggestively is basically chased away by my dad with the shotgun,’ said Zoe, smiling.
Taylor laughed. ‘That’d certainly be a deterrent.’
Zoe straightened her sunglasses as she glanced around the surroundings. ‘Shit me, Taylor, you’d have had a long walk ahead of you if Jay hadn’t come along. I didn’t realise how far out of Driftwood you ran out of fuel.’ Zoe raised her eyes briefly towards the azure sky. ‘Someone’s looking after you up there, I reckon.’
‘You betcha there is. I was terrified wandering around in the dark and so bloody relieved when Jay turned up, once I figured out he wasn’t a serial killer of course,’ Taylor added with a chuckle.
Zoe nodded. ‘Yeah, you gotta be careful who you accept lifts from these days. There’s a lot of weirdos out there. Jay’s an all right bloke, though, when he wants to be. He’s just messed up and sometimes a little . . . let’s just say, volatile. Poor bloke. He’s had a tough run the past couple of years so you can’t really blame him for going off the rails the way he has. Although he needs to think about how he treats people sometimes. Me included.’
So there was an equal animosity between Zoe and Jay. With her curiosity piqued, Taylor pulled her eyes from the stunning scenery. She tried to act casual, not wanting her immense interest in Jay to be apparent. Guessing most girls went gaga around him, she didn’t want to be labelled as one of them by Zoe. ‘What’s happened to him?’
Zoe took her hand from the gearstick and waved it in the air as if swatting at flies. ‘Oh, shitloads: his dad died last year; the love of his life took off with another man; talk is he’s nearly lost the station to the bank recently; and he’s also dealing with a mother that enjoys a little too much of the strong stuff. It’s fucked him up, big time.’ Zoe shook her head, biting her bottom lip. ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong. As a mate, he’s okay, but as a boyfriend? No frigging way, José. He hit on me a few months back, wasn’t impressed when I told him no. I mean, I like bad boys, but not ones that are as messed up as he is. Too much bloody baggage. Ever since then he’s been a little distant with me. His pride’s most probably hurt, I’m gathering. I just wish he’d bloody get over it.’
‘Really? I thought he seemed very friendly and together,’ Taylor said, a little too eagerly.
Zoe glanced sideways, obviously assessing what Taylor was getting at. She went to say something, and then appeared to have second thoughts, and sighed. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t really go on about it. Not normally one for town gossip. It’s just — not that I’m a lesbian or anything — but you’re a good-looking chick and Jay’s fabulous eye candy. Two peas in a pod, I’d say. But, seeing we’re going to be working together, I feel it’s my place to watch your back. I couldn’t help but notice the way you were looking at him last night, all dreamy eyed, and, Taylor, my advice to you: don’t go there, mate. He’s trouble, and not the commitment type.’
Taylor fought to contain her bitter disappointment by laughing and rolling her eyes. ‘Pfft, come on. Me? And Jay? I don’t think so. I could tell he was a heartbreaker from a mile away. Besides, you must have misread how I was looking at him. My eyes were tired, not dreamy!’
‘Is that so, Miss Taylor?’ Zoe said, smiling.
Taylor scowled good-humouredly.
Zoe leant over and turned the stereo up. Waylon Jennings’s honky-tonk voice filled the ute with ‘Rainy Day Woman’. Taylor gave in to the moment and belted the lyrics out with Zoe, the two of them laughing and enjoying each other’s company. For Taylor the distraction was welcome, as she was slightly embarrassed that she’d been obvious around Jay last night. She hoped he hadn’t noticed too. She was shattered to learn he was not the commitment type, and wished Zoe hadn’t told her so she could keep daydreaming about him being her knight in shining armour. She knew Zoe only had her best interests at heart but secretly she couldn’t help but wonder what mysteries lay buried beneath the hard exterior of Jay Donnellson. He’d captured her attention effortlessly, the intensity of his eyes and the warmth of his deep voice were almost hypnotising. Taylor knew, without a doubt, that she had to discover more, her intuition telling her that there was a huge reason she and Jay had crossed paths. But just what was that reason going to be?
CHAPTER
6
1861 — Goldbury, New South Wales
The brash squawking of crows circling overhead while they waited for a chance to peck at the eyes of the lifeless body broke the silence. The magnitude of the situation weighed heavily on all who had witnessed it. Oh, how life could change in the blink of an eye, William thought, as he glanced in the direction of the carriage and at the pale-faced lad still holding the shotgun to his shoulder. Harold’s eyes were filled with fear — at what he had just done and for what would become of him because of it.
Steadying his restless horse, William glanced back at the limp body lying in a pool of blood on the dirt path. He held no remorse for the corpse; Ronald Barrington didn’t deserve to live. He was just sorry it was an innocent lad who had been the one to take Barrington’s life. Now Harold faced death himself, for doing what he felt necessary. By the look of him, with his scrawny build and naive appearance, William guessed there was no way the lad would be a day older than fifteen: too young to die and too inexperienced to outrun the traps. No matter the reason behind Harold shooting Barrington, the traps would want revenge for the man who had paid them large quantities to turn a blind eye to his lawlessness. William knew, come hell or high water, blood would be spilt . . . again.
Pinching the ridge above his nose, a shooting pain tugging behind his eyes, William tried to gather his thoughts. He couldn’t let Harold get caught for this, his conscience wouldn’t allow it. Harold had saved a woman’s life and had also inadvertently taken revenge on Ronald Barrington for all the lives he had ruined with his greed. William had been only seconds away from pulling the trigger himself, as he was sure all his gang were, but Harold had beaten them to it. The only difference was that William and his band of brothers would have shot Barrington in the leg or arm, giving them time to lurch at him from their horses in order to save the girl. Killing was something each and every one of them did their best to avoid, and always had.
Abby collapsed to her knees, blubbering, her fine silk and lace dress splattered with blood. Joey dismounted his horse in a fluent leap and cradled Abby as she shook uncontrollably in his arms. She buried her face in his chest, clearly grateful for his compassion as he gently stroked her silky smooth hair. Still, no one spoke. What was there to say?
William huffed, glancing towards Ben, who sat slumped and stony-faced on his mount, then to David, who gave him an ‘Oh Lord, we’re in big trouble’ look, and then to Joey, his confidant.
‘So, what are we going to do about this, Joey?’
‘I say we bury the body so it buys us some time and then we all go our separate ways, just until this . . .’ Joey waved his arm about, ‘ . . . this bloody situation fizzles down a bit.’ Joey paused for emphasis. ‘The second option would be toe traps are going to want blood. Our blood!’
‘Mighty trouble we are in, up to our knees in it,’ Ben stated gruffly, shifting restlessly in his saddle, his finger resting on the trigger of his pistol.
‘Correct,’ said David, before lighting a smoke.
William nodded; he was equally eager to remedy the situation and acutely aware that time was of the essence. Ronald would be expected to arrive at his destination
in less than two days’ time, and when he didn’t, all hell was going to break loose.
Abby sniffled, rose to her feet and glanced ever so briefly towards Joey as a timid smile curled her lips. Joey stood, a blush rising to his cheeks, his lips quirking with smugness. William stifled a chortle, unsurprised at Joey’s ability to capture this woman’s heart so quickly, even when her husband lay dead near her. But, considering how Barrington had threatened her life, William couldn’t blame her for taking an instant liking to a man as kind-hearted as Joey. Clearly, there had been no love between her and her husband; William wouldn’t have been surprised if the great age difference between the two meant Barrington had bought Abby from a poor family.
‘What about me?’ Harold said, his voice quivering as he finally lowered the shotgun, turning everyone’s attention from the dead body. ‘What — what should I do?’
William took a deep breath, exhaling slowly through his teeth. ‘Well, lad, there are two options. One would be that you make tracks and dispose of the carriage as far away from here as possible and then hide out in the scrub for a while, lie low until this blows over — and hopefully it will.’ William glanced about at the chaos, his brows creased as he chose his next words carefully. ‘The second option would be to keep on going as far north as you can make it. The traps don’t tend to search as far and wide as that. And from what I’ve heard, the untamed lands of the north are basically police free. You’ll be safe up there. But no skylarking along the way, you hear me, boy?’
Joey cleared his throat loudly. ‘Before you do either, we have a small matter to discuss.’ He pointed to the carriage. ‘The money and anything of significance.’
Harold, visibly shaken, motioned towards the open door. ‘Take it. Take all of it. All I want is my freedom, my life, and the sooner you get what you want out of there the sooner I can be on my way.’