by Gloria Bevan
‘That’s right.’
So only Jard, the thoughts ran through her mind, had failed to be deceived by the new stockman’s youthful appearance. She brought her attention back to the wildly prancing, bucking horse. At last, lathered in sweat, the mount quietened and Lanie cheered wildly with the rest of the onlookers as Brent rode quietly around the track. Then he dropped lightly to the ground and led the horse back to the entrance. Definitely, Lanie thought with glee, it was Brent’s day!
She turned a sparkling face to Jard. ‘Wasn’t that fantastic! What a triumph for Brent! You know something,’ in her excited state of mind she forgot Jard’s suspicious attitude towards her, ‘I’m so thankful you didn’t get here in time to stop the proceedings. I’m glad we saw it all, you and me!’
She found herself enmeshed in his glance, only his eyes weren’t cold any more, they were full of light and something else, an expression that she hadn’t ever seen there before. It was only for a moment, then a curtain seemed to fall, leaving his eyes contained and expressionless, just—grey.
‘Help!’ A look of horror crossed her face and her hand flew to her mouth. ‘I’ve just remembered—I’ve left a pan with fat in it on a hot element!’
‘Keep your fingers crossed.’ He had taken her arm and was hurrying her back to the car. They took the curving track at speed and when they reached the house Lanie tumbled out of the vehicle and ran inside. In the smoke-filled kitchen, a tongue of flame leaped from the blackened pan, but before she could reach it a masculine hand whipped the flaming utensil away from the heat and switched off the element.
‘Thanks.’ Lar.ie let out the word on a breath of relief.
Jard was flinging open the windows, letting in a rush of fresh air. ‘Can’t have the place going up in flames!’ All at once his expression softened. ‘Or you.’ His gaze flickered over Lanie’s flushed young face and tumbled hair. ‘You do try, I’ll give you that, Lanie.’ His tone was oddly gentle.
Faint praise indeed, so why was she feeling this sudden warm glow spreading through her?
His eyes dropped and she barely caught the low muttered words. ‘Your hands!’ Swiftly she thrust them behind her, all too aware of broken fingernails, discoloured fingers, cuts and. scratches, a long burn mark covered in plaster. She might have known it would be useless trying to conceal anything from his probing gaze, for he had grasped her wrists and was examining her small soft hands that a few days earlier had been meticulously cared for, the nails tipped with rosy varnish. ‘Pity.’
‘I don’t know why they’re in such a mess, not like office hands.’ She laughed ruefully. ‘I keep getting burned somehow. I guess I’m in too much of a hurry to get on with things. But I’ll get used to it!’ The words came breathlessly, for his clasp was doing odd things to her composure. It was an effort to fight her way through the wild sweet confusion of his touch.
‘You’re doing fine!’ The low words, such commonplace words, deepened the glow inside her. He sent her a swift glance. ‘You still want to keep on with the job regardless?’
‘Oh yes!’ Her eyes, alight with enthusiasm, rose to meet his deep intent gaze. ‘Just try to fire me!’
He dropped her hands at last and went to perch on the side of the table. ‘Your boy-friend,’ all at once his tone was cold and impersonal, ‘he didn’t manage to talk you into going back to town with him? Why was that?’ As if it were anything to do with him! Lanie bit back the indignant words that trembled on her lips. She didn’t have to answer that one.
‘He told me you were all set to tie the knot before you came down here,’ The familiar note of suspicion was back in his tones. As if she were someone who wasn’t to be trusted, or believed. The cold inquisition continued. ‘What made you change your mind? Nothing personal, was it?’
‘Like you?’ she flung at him, eyes bright with defiance and anger. The next moment she could have kicked herself for the swift impulsive answer. She couldn’t help it, though, he was so damned interfering! As if her personal life were any concern of his! All the same, she’d give anything now to recall her words. What if he thought—
His cool rejoinder made her feel even more wretched. ‘That’s not what I meant.’
Lanie faced him defiantly, two flags of colour burning high on her cheeks. Her voice was husky with emotion. ‘What did you mean then?’
Jard’s mobile mouth twisted in a sardonic grin. ‘If you don’t know—’
So, she thought with a plunge of her spirits, they were once more on the old footing, right where they had started. All at once he was back to being the big boss of the station, his glance impassive. ‘Things are okay, then?’
She said very low, ‘If you mean the job—?’
His cool glance was daunting. ‘What else?’ He dropped down from the table and she went to the window, 'watching him stride away. Her cheeks were still burning. It could be due to the heat of the room—well, it could be! She was angry all over again. For him to practically accuse her of staying on here because of some ridiculous suspicions he seemed to entertain concerning the relationship between Sandy and herself! It was too absurd, and terribly difficult to refute. If only she hadn’t given Sandy her promise not to betray his secret. Or could it be, she faced the appalling thought that had flickered across her mind, that Jard had overheard Trevor's damning words on the darkening slopes last evening? If that were true, she caught her breath, she had unthinkingly played right into his hands with her defiant ‘Like you?’ She thrust the suspicion away as too devastating a possibility even to think about.
CHAPTER SIX
On the following afternoon Lanie was trying her hand at preparing an egg custard while Clara, elbows propped on the table, idly watched her. ‘Edna doesn’t make it that way,’ she observed dubiously.
Lanie, sparked to indignation by the all too familiar refrain, spun around. ‘I don’t care how she does it!’
‘Don’t you now?’ a strong voice echoed from the open doorway. The next moment a big woman with iron-grey hair pulled back in a bun and a no-nonsense expression marched determinedly into the room.
‘Edna!’ Clara’s tone was incredulous. What in the world—’
Edna, the station cook, who was thought to be in England! Lanie felt a pang of disappointment out of all proportion to the cause.
‘I didn’t ring through to Jard first,’ Edna was saying. ‘I was going to, and then I got the offer of a lift part of the way, so I stayed at a hotel for the night and hired a taxi for the rest of the way. The taxi cost me the earth, but it’s a lot cheaper than taking a trip to the other side of the world!’
‘But what happened?’ Clara asked eagerly.
Edna lowered herself into a chair and fanned her hot face with her hand. ‘Well, first of all I was held up by the air strike, but that wasn’t too bad because I stayed with my cousin in Auckland. Then when I got word the plane was scheduled to leave I rang through to my relations in London to tell them when to meet me at Heathrow. Seems,’ she said grimly, ‘they were just going to try and contact me to ask me not to come.’ Clara was hanging on Edna’s words. ‘Why ever not? Don’t tell me—’
‘You’ve guessed it! Seems the wedding’s off. My niece has run off with another man. Silly girl, why couldn’t she have made up her mind in the first place instead of putting everyone to all this trouble!’
‘But surely,’ Clara said, ‘you could have stayed with your relatives just the same?’
Edna’s tone was uncompromising. ‘Whatever for? It was the wedding that I was making the trip for, not just to sit around the house twiddling my thumbs. My sister was always one to take on if anything went wrong with her plans. She wouldn’t want me hanging around the place just now.’ With grudging admiration she ran on, ‘Looks as though you’ve been filling in pretty well here, all on your own too. I didn’t think Jard would have any luck in finding anyone who’d be willing to come all the way down here just for a temporary job. He didn’t get anyone to suit, evidently—’
‘Well,
’ Lanie’s eyes were twinkling, ‘there’s me!’
‘You?’ Edna stared at her in disbelief. Clearly, Lanie mused, her youthful appearance had once again proved deceiving. ‘But I thought you were some friend of Jard’s ... a visitor here.’
A swift pain shot through her. A friend of Jard’s. If only she were! She forced her voice to a matter-of-fact note. ‘I got the job in town, and Jard and Sandy brought me down here just after you left.’
She realised, however, that Edna had ceased to listen, her gaze moving past Lanie to settle on the gleaming new electric range. ‘What on earth,’ Edna demanded, ‘is that monstrosity doing in my kitchen?’
Lanie’s mouth twitched. ‘It’s mine—I brought it with me. But it’s not connected up yet.’ She saw Edna’s stern expression relax. ‘Jard’s arranged for the electrician to come here next week—but I guess,’ in spite of herself a forlorn note crept into her voice, ‘it won’t matter now.’
Edna sniffed. ‘It certainly won’t!’ Something in Lanie’s expression, the droop of the soft lips, must have got through to the older woman, for she said in a milder tone, ‘It looks as if—’
‘I know, I’ll have to go.’ Lanie couldn’t understand why the thought brought with it such a flood of dismay.
‘One thing,’ Edna was saying in her forthright tones, ‘if you want a country job you’ll be snapped up in no time! And you don’t need to stick to cooking either. There’s household help, correspondence supervisor for the kids, farm work. Put an ad in the local rag and you’ll find you’ll be able to pick and choose what you want.’
‘I guess so.’ Even in her brief stay here Lanie had learned of the scarcity of home helpers in the remote district. So why did she feel this sense of desolation, as though she were losing something unbelievably precious? The answer came in a flash. Now she would have to say goodbye for ever to any hopes she might have had of making Jard realise that his suspicions of her were utterly unfounded. Jard ... She was only half away of Edna’s tones as she went on to tell her friend about her stay in the city and how relieved she was to return to her familiar environment. There was really nothing to compare with life at Rangimarie, Edna declared. Presently she rose to her feet. ‘Well, I’d better go and change—’
Lanie said quickly, ‘I’ve been using your rooms. Jard thought you wouldn’t be needing them for a while.’
Edna gave a harsh cackle of laughter. ‘First time I’ve ever known Jard to be wrong! Well, not to worry. You’re not very big and you can have the spare room until you leave here and go somewhere else. Don’t bother shifting your things right now.’
Somewhere else. To Lanie the words pinpointed with sickening emphasis that this was no longer her home. She must have been crazy to feel as though it were, even if only temporarily. She wrenched her mind back to the present, realising Edna was standing by the window. ‘Is Jard around? I’d better go and tell him I’m back.’
Lanie shook her head. ‘He’s way up on a hill at the burn-off.’
‘Oh well, it’ll keep.’
‘Thank heaven this is the last time I’ll have to hump this lot around!’ Edna picked up her suitcase and Lanie watched her cross the strip of grass outside, a heavily-built woman wearing a floral silk dress and sensible flat-heeled shoes.
A few moments later Clara followed her. Left alone in the kitchen, Lanie forgot about her custard preparations. She was twisting a strand of hair round and round her finger worriedly in an unconscious gesture. It was over, her lovely new life, almost before it had started, and even Sandy, whose warm championship had never failed her, would be unable to have her kept on now. What an opportunity this would be for the big boss himself! It was what he had wanted all along, and now fate in the form of Edna’s fickle niece had played into his hands. As she pictured Jard’s triumphal reaction to the news, determination rose in her. She’d beat him to it. She refused to tamely wait around until he returned to the house and gave her her marching orders. Just for once, she told herself, she would call the tune.
Moving to the window, she glanced towards a cloud of smoke that was rising against the translucent blue of the sky. The fire looked a long way away. She had a dim recollection of Sandy telling her that a lot of the hill country of the station was in scrub, high manuka trees twenty feet high, and that Jard tackled a block of scrub every year. Her soft lips firmed. Now she was about to tackle him! She pushed the hair back from her hot forehead. She had only to borrow a horse to ride, and that shouldn’t be too difficult. All that mattered to her now was that she must let him know she was leaving Rangimarie before he heard the news from someone else. What matter that the smoke clouds she could see billowing from high slopes appeared to be some distance away? She would get there, she had to! Soon she was out of the house and hurrying down the curving driveway towards the stables where she could see two of the station hacks already saddled and tethered to a fence. Luck was with her. she thought a short time later as Brent emerged from the stables and strolled towards the horses.
‘Brent! Wait—’ When at last she reached him she was almost too breathless to speak coherently. ‘I’d like one of the horses to ride. Do you think—’
He caught on immediately, his young face curious, but he made no comment beyond: ‘Sure, take Blaze, he seems quiet enough. You won’t have any cause to bale off him!’
Lanie hesitated, eyeing the massive bay horse. ‘He’s not too sluggish?’
He grinned. ‘Lord no! He’s got a terrific canter. You’d be surprised! I was just going to take him back to the paddock, so he’s all yours.’ He gave her a leg up into the saddle and handed her the reins. ‘Where are you bound for anyway?’
As she urged the big horse to a trot, she threw back over her shoulder. ‘Just to the burn-off.’
‘Hey—wait—’ But the wind, blowing endlessly over the sea, tossed the words away and already she was moving out of hearing as the big bay horse took a steep grassy slope threaded with the narrow tracks of a myriad sheep.
Even in her urgency Lanie was aware of a sense of exhilaration as her mount scrambled up steep slopes then plunged down into bush filled gullies, then up and over another slope where sheep scattered madly at their approach. When she reached the cleared green strip of the airfield she let Blaze have his head, leaning forward in the saddle as the big horse broke into a canter and then a gallop. The wind tossed the ribbon from her hair, sending a cloud of reddish-gold streaming behind her ears as they swept on. All too soon she reached the shed used for storing topdressing supplies, and once over the next rise she knew she wasn’t, far from her destination. Even from a distance the smell of charred timber was in her nostrils and an immense pall of smoke rose ahead.
Presently she neared the bum-off, discerning through the smoke the great manuka trees that had been cut with a chain saw. Flames were leaping through them and the crackle was deafening. As she approached, urging her reluctant mount forward with some difficulty, she could feel the hot breath of the wind on her face. On a hilltop overlooking the blazing scrub she drew rein. Not until this moment had she realised how difficult it might be to find Jard amidst the clouds of smoke. Evidently, she thought, the men had relied on the cordon of standing bush to quell the fierce flames, so maybe if she advanced that far she would catch sight of Jard. The next moment she realised that her mount, regardless of his rider’s wishes, had no intention of moving any nearer to the leaping flames. The terror-stricken horse was rearing wildly and as she tried to control him a flame, licking through bushes, shot high in the air. Then everything seemed to happen at once as Blaze, half-crazed with terror, reared wildly, and she felt herself flying through smoke-filled air. There was a split-second impression of being tossed down a rocky slope, of clutching desperately at bushes on the way, then blackness, nothingness.
When she returned to consciousness she found herself lying at the foot of a steep cliff. What was she doing here, and why was it so very hot? She raised herself to a sitting position and became aware of long grazes down her
arms, of blood trickling from a cut on her ankle, and her head seemed to be beating with tiny hammer strokes. Gingerly she got to her feet, relieved to find she was all right—a trifle wobbly maybe, but there were no bones broken. If only her head would stop throbbing and she didn't have this dizziness. She couldn’t even remember how she came to be here, but it would come to her in a minute.
She glanced up at the cliff above. It was almost sheer, with outcrops of rock. No hope of escape that way. A wave of nausea passed over her and she put her head down between her knees. At that moment, above the crackle of the flames on the nearby hillside, she caught the echo of her name. Brent! No one else knew of her intention to come to the burn-off. She raised her head, peering through the smoke at the man’s figure she could dimly discern approaching her. Then Jard came hurrying to her side.
‘Lanie! Are you all right?’ Had she not known the thought to be absurd, she thought groggily, almost she could have imagined a note of genuine alarm in his tones. He was pulling her to her feet, his strong arms supporting her.
‘I wanted to find you,’ she said stupidly, ‘but I couldn’t see you anywhere.’
He wasn’t even listening. ‘You must have been out of your skull,’ he told her angrily, ‘to bring Blaze close in to the burn-off! Didn’t any of the boys warn you about that? If not I’ll have a piece of whoever it was when we get back—’ he broke off, his glance moving over her grazed arms and a bruise on her temple. ‘You’re feeling okay?’
Even in her dazed state of mind she was aware that he was eyeing her with concern—real concern, as if she really mattered to him. ‘I’ll be all right in a minute,’ she said thickly, and swayed on her feet as the smoke-screened scene spun dizzily around her.
For answer he gathered her up in his arms and carrying her as effortlessly as if she were a child, strode towards a patch of native bush. ‘I’ve left the Land Rover over there, not far away.’