by Gloria Bevan
“That’s easy!” Already she had bent to turn up the jeans above sun-tanned knees. “Is that better?”
“You’ll do! Here, put this on or the trees will drip right down your neck!” He was standing behind her and she felt him draw her windbreaker gently around her shoulders. For a moment he was motionless, his hands at her throat, and she thought he must surely hear the thud-thud of her stupid heart. Then he turned away, said in a quietly contained tone, “Come on, let’s go!” He clasped her hand. “Better hang on tight to me, it’s easy to take a header in the mud.”
Hand in hand they went down the path, splashing through pools of water and moving beneath dripping tree branches. As they emerged into the open Angela realised the full force of the flash flood of the previous night, for water filled a great gaping hole leading to the timber bridge. The river was a swollen sluggish stream, choked with logs and fallen trees. She watched debris and fence-posts go floating by.
“There’s a better point to cross over further, upstream,” Mark told her. “It’s wide and shallow and we should be able to wade over without any trouble. That’s the spot where they’ll be expecting us to cross.”
He seemed to have forgotten to release her hand as they followed the winding river. Presently they reached a bend where water spread between wide banks and together they waded through the shallows. Now she was glad of his strong supporting handclasp, for beneath her feet were loose boulders that slipped away as she set foot on them, tree-logs that looked solidly wedged between rocks, then floated away on the current. As they made progress the water became deeper until they were wading waist-deep, pushing their way through clumps of fallen earth, uprooted trees and dislodged fence-posts. But she was with Mark, her hand in his firm grasp. They were splashing into the shallows on the opposite bank of the river when a truck came into sight driven by Alex, one of the shepherds. As they clambered up through the bushes on the bank, Alex guided the vehicle to a stop on the grass above and a cheerful face with untidy brown hair and challenging blue eyes appeared in the opening of the cab. “Just timed it right! I thought I’d be pretty sure of a welcome!” he grinned as Angela and Mark climbed up beside him. “Lucky that Doris took herself off before the storm caught up with you. She’d be having a fit if she’d known you were out in it. You know what she’s like when it comes to storms.”
Squeezed into the seat between Mark and the driver, once again Angela was swept by that suffocating sense of awareness of Mark. Was that one of the tricks that falling deeply in love played on you? Making you feel powerless against a man’s masculine magnetism? Fortunately he was unaware of the inner turmoil his nearness aroused in her. At the moment he was discussing with his shepherd matters of more concern to him, such as had many of the sheep fallen casualties to the rain last night? And the brood mares in the hill paddock, how had they fared in the electrical storm?
They’d been lucky at Waikare, Alex assured him as he guided the truck over sodden paddocks towards the ribbon of road winding over the hills. Half a dozen ewes lost, but that was all.
The two men went on to discuss farming matters, but Angela was only half listening. She roused herself as Mark said carelessly, “I suppose you’ve collected a few refugees up at the house, waiting for the river to go down so they can go on their way?”
Alex nodded, swerving to avoid a tree recently struck by lightning that was lying on the narrow pathway. “Man! You should have seen the place last night. Talk about a scene of activity! Three different lots showed up through the night. They couldn’t get over the river and turned back looking for shelter. There were people everywhere. Jill was doing her best to cope with getting them all bedded down.”
Angela realised now the purpose of the empty bedrooms with their beds made up in readiness. She wondered why she hadn’t anticipated the arrival of unexpected guests at the homestead through the night. If three lots of travellers had been stormbound there might be others too who had been trapped by the broken bridge. At least, she comforted herself with dreary logic, the extra work involved in the house would serve to take her mind from other more personal problems. If only her special problem didn’t have a vibrant heart-catching voice and a way of looking at you at times that made you feel you mattered a little after all in spite of being just Twenty, whose one extenuating characteristic seemed to be that she’d have a go at anything that came her way!
She brought her mind back to Alex’s cheerful tones. “When I left the house the new arrivals were champing at the bit to take off, but I told them if they waited a bit the stream’ll be low enough for them to ford it. Tomorrow should do it. The only ones that are taking the delay in their stride are a family party, city characters with two boys on their way back after a holiday up north. The kids have never seen a farm before and they’ve taken to it like ducks to water. We’ll be lucky if we get rid of them when the river goes down. Then there’s a business guy heading back to town after a stint of deep-sea fishing up in the Bay of Islands. He’s browned off with waiting already. Seems to have the idea that the whole works are going to fall apart at the seams if he doesn’t show up at the office in town today. He’s in for a surprise! I can’t seem to get it into his thick head that the telephone lines are down and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
Mark nodded. “He’ll keep. How about the others? Who else is waiting around?”
“One other party—two middle-aged women. They’re in a tizz too. Seems one of them is due in the city today to give a travel talk at some club. The way they’re going on anyone would think it was the end of the world not making it back to town today.”
“She should be glad, the one who’s giving the talk,” Mark commented drily. “She’ll be able to add a note of adventure when she does get around to it.”
“You just try telling her that,” Alex muttered gloomily. “What’s the transport, cars?”
“No, they’re lucky there. Only one car, that belongs to the women. There’s a truck and a Land Rover as well.”
Mark glanced up towards brilliant patches of blue in the sky above. “They’ll be right!” Angela was becoming accustomed to hearing the familiar Kiwi phrase that seemed to cover all possible eventualities. “Looks like they’ll be able to get through the ford by morning.”
“That’s what I told them.” A shower of mud splashed over the windows from the flooded pathway below and Alex peered ahead. “One thing about the storm, though. Those stranded bods got Brian out of bed! He’s been wandering around the house half the night brewing coffee for all hands. Reckon he’s feeling a whole lot better being busy and doing something for himself for a change instead of letting Jill fuss over him!”
“Great!” Mark’s face had lighted up. “Looks like he’ll be okay from now on. The doc said that once he got on the mend he’d go ahead like wildfire. Now there’ll be no looking back!” He grinned towards Alex. “What do you bet he’ll be putting his name down for some of the rodeo events this season?”
Alex shook his curly brown head. “I’m not having that on! He’d be just crazy enough to give it a go, sore head and all!”
Mark was looking so delighted with the news of Brian’s recovery that Angela realised all over again how deep was his concern for his young brother. She followed the thought to its logical conclusion, and how resentful he must be of Martha who had bruised Brian’s already shaky confidence in himself. Martha, she reminded herself with a stab of pain, included her, or so Mark thought. With an effort of will she wrenched her bleak thoughts aside. Think of Brian, she told herself. Once again she wondered whether it was really to his advantage—Brian with his self-doubts, his slight physique and diffident manner, to live in such close contact with the strong older brother. Might it not be wiser for Brian to leave Waikare and strike out on his own account, make some sort of life for himself, no matter how ordinary?
All at once she realised they were running down a slippery slope towards the main entrance. Pools of water spread over the grass and above seabirds wheeled a
nd soared. Ahead was the store shed and mailbox. The next moment they were rattling over a cattlestop and sweeping around the curving driveway. Already Angela could see a cluster of vehicles in the yard.
“Mark!” As the Land Rover swung around and braked near the porch Susan came flying down the steps. At the sight of the other girl, frilly organza apron floating from a slim waist and blonde hair carefully in place, Angela was uneasily aware of her own wind-tangled hair and crumpled jeans.
“You’re back!” Susan’s glance went past Angela. She might not be there, Angela thought hotly, for all the notice Susan was taking of her. A red-hot pang of jealousy shot through her. She had never known she could feel like this about another girl. “I’ve been so worried about you!” Susan was saying.
Alex’s blue eyes glinted. “Don’t blame you for that, Sue. Angela’s the prettiest thing that’s happened along in this direction for a long while—”
“Alex, really...” Angela threw him a reproachful look, but a voice deep inside her was saying, “Bless you!”
Although Susan pretended to ignore the teasing comment the colour deepened beneath the mask of make-up on her tanned cheeks. She ran to stand beside Mark as he helped Angela down from the high seat. “Anything could have happened to you, out in a storm like that!”
In the shepherd’s eyes the wicked glint deepened, “Anything”, he agreed.
Again Susan made a pretence of not taking in his meaning. She linked her hand over Mark’s bronzed bare arm. “I came over here as soon as I could. I knew there’d be travellers cut off by the storm and wanting to be put up in the house ... and there was no one else.” The petulant tone implied that Angela would have been better employed sticking at her job rather than traipsing around the country with her employer. “There’s Jill, of course,” Susan added reluctantly “and Brian has been busy too. He’s in the kitchen now attacking a colossal pile of breakfast dishes. Oh, Mark,” she glanced up into his face, “I thought you were never coming back! And don’t tell me I should be used to it by now,” she admonished playfully, “because I’ll never feel any different. I can’t!”
As Alex with a parting grin drove the truck away Angela hurried on ahead of the other two towards the house. Running up the steps, she narrowly averted a collision with two boys of about ten and twelve years who came hurtling past her uttering loud and fearsome cowboy yells.
Inside, the lounge room seemed filled with strangers, all eyeing her enquiringly. Mark had gone to his room and it was Susan who came to stand at her side. Sue flashed her wide and glittering smile. “Folks, this is Angela. She helps around the house,” to Angela the contemptuous tone was infuriating, “when she’s here. Your apron’s hanging on the nail behind the door in the kitchen, Angela.”
Feeling like some sort of atomic-age Cinderella, Angela gave an uncertain smile and escaped to the kitchen. She found Brian standing at the sink. Somehow she hadn’t realised before how small and thin he was. He turned at her approach, then glanced away, and as always she was conscious of a sense of constraint between them. “Oh, it’s you, Angela.”
She tried for cheerfulness. “That’s right—at last. I thought we were never going to make it back to the homestead when I saw what had happened to the bridge back there.” Inwardly the thoughts churned through her mind. If only I could get through to him that I knew nothing of Martha’s plans for marriage, that I was only a messenger. I’d like to say to him right at this minute, “Please you’ve got to believe me! I had nothing to do with what happened between you and Martha”. But what would be the use? It’s not the time or the place for confidences of that sort, and anyway, appearances are too much against me. He’d never believe I was telling the truth! Probably just seeing me here reminds him of her, makes him feel more than ever rejected, deepens his sense of let-down.
“Guess you’re about ready for this.” He turned towards a huge aluminium teapot and poured a cup of tea, then pushed it towards her. “Don’t take any notice of the mess in here,” his shy grin was somehow appealing, “and don’t let Sue get you down. She just likes to organise everyone. It’s a gift she has. You might have noticed.”
“I have a bit.” Angela perched on a high stool and sipped her tea. “Golly,” she murmured in sudden panic, “I’ll have to do something about feeding all these people. Whatever did Doris do when she struck an emergency like this? She must have coped with it all somehow.”
“No problem.” Brian had resumed his task at the sink bench. “She’s got oodles of stuff stashed away in there just for occasions like this!” He waved a hand towards the massive freezer at the end of the room. “You take your choice and get something out in time for it to defreeze before you do the serving. I can recommend the corn fritters.”
Angela breathed a sigh of relief. “Now however could I have forgotten all Doris told me about that?” Because you’re thinking of nothing but Mark all the time, that’s why! She thrust the answer aside.
“Forget it right now,” Brian was saying. “Why don’t you take a hot shower, get yourself something to eat?”
She pushed aside the empty cup. “You know, I think I will. Take a shower, I mean.” She pushed aside the bright hair back from her forehead. “Heaven knows what I look like, but I suppose we were lucky to get back here today even though we did have to leave the Land Rover on the other side of the river.”
He nodded, plunging his hands into foaming detergent in the sink. “It happens roughly on an average about three times a year! That’s when the roadworkers’ old hut comes in handy.”
“Does it ever! We certainly found that out! Mark—” Angela stopped short, aware of Susan who was standing in the open doorway and listening intently. Why should she have to explain to anyone, least of all this domineering girl-friend of Mark’s? Let her draw whatever conclusions she wished regarding the night spent in the open. Feeling all at once grubby and tired and sick of everything, Angela went slowly towards her own room. Why must Susan be here, taking over everything, acting as though this were her own home? Why not? The answer was all too clear. For wouldn’t she be mistress here soon, probably before the year was out? And jealousy, she admonished herself, will get you nowhere. There’s just nothing in the world you can do about it.
The day went by in a round of ceaseless activity. In the evening as they gathered in the lounge the stranded travellers were in a more cheerful mood. Mark assured them that they could continue their interrupted journey in the morning and just to make certain no harm came to them he offered to take the Land Rover and accompany them over the ford. He brushed aside their expressions of gratitude. Such happenings, he assured them, were all part of the day’s work at Waikare and would continue to be so until such time as the remote area was serviced by better roading and new bridges over the river.
Anyway, he told them with his lopsided grin, he’d done nothing, he wasn’t the one who had done all the “looking after” of the unexpected guests. His glance softened as his eyes rested for a moment on Angela’s fresh young face.
It was Susan, however, who answered. “Don’t give it a thought,” she disclaimed laughingly, “we just love having folks to stay up here. And don’t be so modest, Mark. You know you like showing visitors around the station. I’m with you all the way! It’s wonderful to meet new people with different views and ways of living. Boys too!” Her wide glittering smile included the two lads whose downcast faces revealed that alone among the group they had no wish to return to the city. “We don’t get many boys visiting up here, especially ones who fit so well into country fife I Isn’t that right, Rex? Wayne? You wouldn’t mind staying up here, would you?”
Two freckled faces were suddenly alive and interested. “We get holidays in August,” the elder of the two cried eagerly. “Isn’t that lambing time up here? Maybe we could come up then and give you a hand. You know, learn to ride horses and go around the paddocks to make sure the ewes are okay?”
“That’s a fantastic idea!” Susan smiled. “Consider yourself hired
as shepherds for two weeks in the lambing season. I’ll guarantee to find you two good mounts. What do you say to that, Mark?”
Susan’s confident tones twisted Angela’s heart. The warm intimacy of the other girl’s gaze left no doubt as to her position here. If she were not mistress at Waikare already then it was merely a matter of time. And Mark? Pain shot through Angela as she sought to read his face, but he had turned towards the cocktail cabinet and was mixing drinks. “That’s a date, then,” he said evenly. “We’ll be expecting you boys. Your parents too if they can make it.”
In the morning Angela prepared an early breakfast for the travellers, then stood watching from the porch as the unexpected guests carried out bags and suitcases from the house and stowed the luggage in their vehicles. Somewhat to Angela’s surprise Susan announced that she too must return home today. She pulled an expressive face. She didn’t want to leave, of course, but relatives from overseas were expected to arrive during the day and she was expected back to welcome them. As she watched Mark’s face, it didn’t seem to Angela that he was devastated by this news, but then he never was one to display his inner feelings. The next moment she realised the reason for his unconcern, for Susan, getting into her car, was calling back gaily, “I’ll be back for the barbecue on Saturday night!”
Mark went to stand beside the car. “I’ll see you to the ford, just to make sure you get through.”