The Rouseabout Girl

by Gloria Bevan

  ‘Have you come from overseas?’ the attendant asked them in her pleasant way.

  ‘No,’ said Mervyn, ‘we’re just passing through.’ He was eyeing the trays of exquisitely set greenstone rings, the jade stones set in gold or silver, the articles made from glittering paua shell with its iridescent shadings of pinks, greens and blues, the woven mats and native carvings and garments fashioned from hand-spun fleeces.

  ‘It’s hardly the time of the year for wearing wool,’ he whispered to Lanie, ‘but it’s always a good time for wearing a greenstone ring on your finger—’

  Lanie was startled. ‘Oh no! They’re far too expensive. If you must buy me something, I’d settle for one of those paua shell trinket boxes up on the shelf—they’re lovely.’

  He didn’t spare the boxes a glance, his gaze fixed on Lanie’s face. ‘You’ve got such pretty little hands, ever noticed?’

  ‘My hands.’ She looked thunderstruck at his words. ‘I try to hide them all I can these days. I don’t know how I managed to get them in such a mess—well, I do know, but ’

  ‘All the more reason to take up my offer! A greenstone ring will attract all eyes, and no one will ever see the marks of honest toil.’

  For a moment she was tempted. Half to herself she murmured, ‘If only they weren’t so frightfully expensive—’

  ‘Expensive? When there’s only one place in the whole of the country where the stone can be found, and that happens to be in such a remote spot that it takes days to get it out and into civilisation. How about this one—’ Before she could protest he had slipped the ring on her finger. It fitted perfectly, and it was beautiful, she had to admit. It could have been made especially for her hand.

  Mervyn echoed her thoughts. ‘It was made for you.’ And to the attendant he said, ‘I’ll take it, please.’ Just like that, she mused, before she could protest or argue further.

  ‘Keep it on!’ He waved away her thanks. ‘It’s just something to make you remember the day.’ At her hesitant glance, he added briskly, ‘Don’t worry, no strings, just a gift from an admirer!’

  Put like that, she thought, how could she refuse? ‘Thank you,’ she smiled.

  The restaurant to which he took her was a low, attractive place built on the banks of the swiftly flowing river. Wicker tables and chairs were set out on an open-air porch beneath the star-strewn canopy of the soft dark sky and coloured glass lanterns caught reflections in the swirling waters close by. The cuisine was excellent—oyster cocktails, delicately flavoured toheroa soup and succulent slices of lamb accompanied by red-skinned tamarillo fruit. Somehow, though, Lanie failed to have any enjoyment in the meal. How could she, when all the time her thoughts were back at the homestead—and Jard. Would he have expected her to return there a long time since? Maybe he would even be feeling concerned at her non-appearance. Stupid! she chided herself. Jard won’t even notice your absence.

  She wrenched her thoughts back to Mervyn. He was a pleasant and considerate companion, she mused, and he appeared not to notice her lack of appetite and abstracted manner. Maybe he imagined her to be always this way. It was easier to hide her lack of interest, she found when they danced together on the small circle of polished wood in the centre of the scattered tables. Moving to the beat of the melody, she only had to flash on her brightest smile, no matter how she felt deep down inside.

  On the long drive back through the darkness she had to admit there had been a certain amount of truth in Jard’s warning, for Mervyn drove fast and furiously with no regard for speed limits. His uncle’s car was a late-model one with a powerful engine, and a glance towards Mervyn’s excited face, told her that he was enjoying the sensation of engine-power and speed, and that for her to caution him in the matter would only serve to make him drive even faster. So she tried not to watch the speedometer needle and braced herself each time they took the blind dark bends at breakneck pace.

  She was relieved when they reached the homestead without mishap and he drew up with a scream of brakes at the verandah steps. She felt his lips touch her cheek. ‘See you next week!’ As she stepped from the car she realised why his farewell kiss had not been a lingering one, for Jard’s tall figure was silhouetted in the open doorway.

  ‘Goodbye!’ Mervyn called from the window. He swung the car in the driveway, rattled over the cattlestop and shot away down the drive.

  Acutely conscious of the masculine figure waiting at the top of the steps, Lanie deliberately slowed her steps. Maybe, just maybe, she thought with a lift of her spirits, he had been concerned for her safety, just a little.

  ‘Hi, Lanie!’ Could it be the shadows thrown by the gleam of the overhanging lantern, she wondered, that made his lean features look more than ever aloof? Well, she would soon change all that! She paused to glance up at him, her glance bright with defiance. ‘Miss me?’ she enquired cheekily.

  ‘So long as you’re okay.’ His fiat tones gave nothing away.

  'Of course I am!’ She smiled up into his shadowed face. ‘I’ve had a fantastic time! Mervyn took me for a tour around the town—I’d know my way around Wanganui any old time now—and we finished up with a dinner at a restaurant by the river.’

  ‘Great,’ but he looked unimpressed and his tone was dead-pan once again. He hadn’t even been listening to her words, she thought angrily.

  ‘I need you to give me a hand tomorrow.’

  I need you. She had taken in only the first part of what he was telling her. Crazy of her to imagine even for a moment that he could feel for her the wild attraction against which she struggled without avail. She tried to concentrate on what he was saying. ‘I want to shift some cattle that are grazing out on the sandhills. The creeks have dried up over there. We’ll catch the low tide and drive them along the beach, it’s easier that way.’

  ‘Oh!’ She gathered her thoughts together. ‘So I guess it’s an early start, then?’

  ‘That’s the story. See you then.’

  ‘Goodnight.’ As she went down the hall Lanie mused that everyone seemed to be in bed. No wonder, it must be very late. For a second the crazy thought shot through her mind that maybe Jard had waited up to assure himself that she had arrived safely home. Of all the ridiculous ideas! It hadn’t worked out, she reflected resentfully, her plan of defying his wishes—‘orders’ more likely—about driving over the countryside with Mervyn. Clearly Jard couldn’t care less about her. All that concerned the boss was that she would be here to shift his cattle at daybreak tomorrow. Once again, she felt a strong desire to kick something.

  CHAPTER TEN

  One thing about life in the outback, Lanie mused ruefully the following morning, it did accustom you to rising at daybreak. Somehow she didn’t even seem to mind. Not when Jard is waiting for me outside! The treacherous thought flickered across her mind.

  In the empty kitchen she found that he had already breakfasted and gone down to the stables, no doubt to saddle up the horses. So she downed a quick cup of coffee and nibbling a slice of toast, went out into the fragrant early-morning air that echoed with the chorus, of birdsong and the lowing of cattle.

  When she reached the stables she found Jard throwing a fluffy sheepskin underblanket on the back of a sturdy grey horse. ‘Hi,’ he greeted her, ‘meet Bluey!’ Soon he was helping her up into the saddle, then for a moment he stood motionless, an enigmatical expression in his eyes. ‘I can always depend on you to be bang on time.’

  ‘Really?’ Gathering up the reins, Lanie affected a surprised expression. ‘So there is something you approve of about me? You never told me,’ she chided him.

  He still had that unreadable look in his eyes. ‘I’ve got a lot of things to tell you—one of these days. Meanwhile,’ all at once his tone was brisk and impersonal, ‘we’ll take the track down to the sandhills and shift the steers up to the eastern block. You were cruising around there two days ago. Nothing wrong with the water supply down in the gully, was there?’

  To Lanie his businesslike tone was irritating, and defini
tely a challenge. ‘Nothing wrong, boss,’ she said demurely, ‘creek plenty water, boss!’ and before he could make an answer she had dug her heels into Bluey’s broad sides and was urging her mount to a faster pace. Soon they were racing over the dried grass as Lanie, leaning low over the saddle, her hair streaming behind her ears in the breeze, guided her mount towards the winding track ahead. She had a start on Jard, but a swift backward glance told her that his white horse Snow had been fast off the mark and was now lessening the distance between the two mounts. It wasn’t long before she caught the pounding of a horse’s hooves close behind, and almost at once Jard drew level with her. ‘Got you!’ Catching hold of her bridle, he slowed her to a stop at the top of the rising leading down to the sandhills. She caught his deep exultant chuckle.’ You won’t get away from me that easily, you know!’

  She felt a tingle in her pulses, for there it was again, the deep soft look in his eyes that made her imagine that despite everything he couldn’t help liking her—well, maybe even a bit more than liking. ‘What makes you think I want to?’ But the breeze caught her words and whipped them away, and with an effort she wrenched her mind back to the deep vibrant tones. ‘Any idea where we’re going?’

  She glanced down the slope towards tossing green waves with their white caps, then shook her head. ‘Not me, boss, I leave all that to you!’

  Presently they reached the sandhills, high mounds of black sand that splintered into a myriad diamond flashes in the sunlight. The wind, blowing endlessly from the sea, sent the line dark particles swirling around them. Lanie pushed the hair from her eyes and slowed her mount to a walk as the horses plodded over great drifts of sand. When at length they reached the expanse of grass bordering the dunes, she realised the urgency of their trip, for the creek bed held only a trickle of moisture, hoofprints of cattle already baked dry in the muddy surround.

  The black steers were scattered over the dried grass edging the sandhills and soon Jard was rounding up the cattle while Lanie turning her mount swiftly, hurried away to block the escape of stragglers and drive them back to join the moving throng. The work, she soon found, was hot and dusty, the crack of Jard’s stockwhip cutting across the sound of waves crashing on the cliffs, the barking of dogs and lowing of cattle.

  ‘We’ll head them down to the beach!’ he called to her. ‘Easier to drive them that way!’

  Down on the shining sand below the dunes, the tide had receded, leaving pools of water through which the cattle splashed their way along the beach. Lanie soon discovered that the nondescript-looking mount that Jard had chosen for her was a horse who cornered well. Almost, it seemed to her, the sturdy grey anticipated the movements of recalcitrant steers, heading them back over the wet sand in the right direction.

  They had left the beach behind and were driving the cattle up the sandy track winding up the slope when she called to Jard, ‘You sure picked me a good mount today! Bluey seems to know exactly what I want him to do! He’s quick on the turn too!’

  He threw' her a grin. ‘I knew you could handle him. I have to hand it to you, Lanie, when it comes to riding!’ Another attribute in her favour, she mused wryly. Aloud she said lightly, ‘I bet you say that to all the young stockmen!’

  ‘Oh, come on, Lanie, you know you’re top class!’

  A little of the golden lustre of the day faded. Oh, Jard was generous with his compliments when it came to her riding ability, even to handling stock maybe, but when it came right down to the things that really mattered, the man-and-woman things, with him she was definitely a non-starter. He might just as well have been complimenting one of the young shepherds who worked for him on the station.

  ‘What’s wrong, Lanie?’ His perceptive gaze must have taken in the droop of her soft lips. ‘This hasn't been too much for you, has it? This game can be strenuous, especially if you’re not used to it.’

  She straightened, flinging up her chin. ‘I love it! This beats office work any day! It’s the work I’ve always wanted to do.’

  The cattle, weary now after the effort of plodding along in the sand, had quietened, and Lanie and Jard were riding side by side, the dogs working to keep the steers moving up the winding slope.

  ‘I could do this for ever!’ she exclaimed and saw his face harden.

  ‘So I gathered.’

  She said in a puzzled voice, ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Forget it!’ he said roughly, and rode away from her and up the rise. What had she said, she wondered, to cause his sudden change of heart? Something about office work? There was simply no understanding him. Her gaze rested on his straight back, his shirt wet with perspiration, the dark blond hair that was catching a patina in the hot sunshine. Jard, Jard, why did you ride away from me? Why do I love you so?

  There were no answers to the questions. All at once she was feeling weary. Fine grains of black sand were in her hair and her clothing. She was hot and tired and sticky and sick with a sense of let-down. What had happened to spoil things on this sunshiny morning? She had hoped that riding together, working together, might make him see her, really see her. Instead of that ... She blinked away the silly tears that gathered in her eyes and went on up the track. It was as they turned the next bend that they came in sight of two dust-coated vehicles waiting at the top of the rise.

  For a moment Lanie forgot her own problems. ‘We’ve got visitors, by the look of things.’

  ‘Chances are it’s a television team,’ Jard said. They put through a call last month asking me if they could come out here and do some filming. Seems they’re putting together a documentary all about back country sheep stations.’ He grinned. ‘Might just give the townies some idea of what goes on—that is, if they happen to be interested.’

  ‘They seem to be waiting for someone,’ Lanie hazarded. ‘I wonder what they want?’

  ‘You, actually.’ His eyes crinkled with amusement. ‘When the crew contacted me they told me I only had to provide one special feature for them and that was a very pretty girl who had the know-how, knew the ropes and how to handle a horse!’

  Her heart was behaving strangely, giving a great leap, then steadying again. Jard paying her compliments on her appearance! It just wasn’t possible. She sent him a swift enquiring glance, but he was eyeing the two men who had set up their cameras at the top of the slope and seemed oblivious of the earth-shattering remark he had made concerning her. At that moment a steer breaking away from the straggling line of cattle headed wildly up the slope and swiftly Lanie gave chase, her hair, that had long since lost its confining ribbon, streaming out in a cloud of red-gold behind her ears. Not until she had manoeuvred the steer back with the rest did she remember the television cameramen. As she reached the top of the rise, however, a dark-haired young man with a twinkle in his eye stepped forward.

  'We’ve just got some terrific shots of you on your grey. Could you do us a big favour and let us take a few more?’

  She realised that Jard had reined in at her side. ‘Go on, Lanie. I can handle thing’s now without your help, but I guess these guys can’t!’

  ‘But—’ All at once she became aware of torn and soiled jeans. In the excitement of cutting off a steer from escape she had ripped her shirt on a bush and the material hung raggedly, exposing a delicately tanned shoulder. Her hair, wet with perspiration, clung in damp ringlets on her flushed forehead and she just knew she had smears of dirt on her face. ‘I look awful!’ she wailed.

  ‘If you’re worried about a bit of sand—’ Taking his handkerchief from the pocket of his jeans, Jard leaned over and very gently wiped her sun-warmed cheek.

  ‘I still look a mess!’

  ‘You?’ His warm gaze swept her loosened hair and flushed cheeks. He said very low, ‘To me you look wonderful.’ He was gazing at her, she thought in sudden elation, as if he really meant what he said, and mesmerized by his words, she heard herself saying to the waiting cameramen, ‘All right, then.’

  ‘She’s all yours!’ Jard flashed a grin towards the technician
s. ‘See you up at the house, Lanie.’ A crack of the stockwhip sang through the clear air, then he was riding away in a cloud of dust, leaving Lanie looking bewildered.

  ‘You don’t want me,’ she protested, ‘you can’t be serious. I only work here, I’m just the rouseabout girl.’

  ‘Whacko!’ To her surprise her words evoked an enthusiastic response. ‘You’re exactly what we happen to be looking for! I’m Tony, by the way,’ he had an infectious grin, ‘and this sort of slow guy here, he’s Stuart. We know you’re Lanie, and what we’re after is some shots of you on horseback, riding up to the house.’

  ‘I’d say,’ Stuart said in his quiet tones, ‘that you were definitely photogenic, and with that gorgeous cloud of reddish-gold hair coming out in colour—you don’t really object to our taking a few pictures, do you?’

  She pulled a wry face. ‘It’s me I mind, looking such a mess.’

  ‘Don’t change a thing! Don’t you see,’ Tony’s voice was laced with enthusiasm, ‘that it’s something real that we're after. Some on-the-spot action shots of a girl who's got looks and riding ability too. You’re our honest-to-goodness working girl, remember?’

  She smiled in spite of herself. ‘How could I forget, looking the way I do?’

  Stuart was casting an eye over the surroundings. He eyed Lanie hopefully. ‘Reckon you could jump your horse over that log lying over there on the grass?’

  ‘If you like.’ Presently she set Bluey to the great fallen totara log lying in a paddock not far away, and the cameras clicked as she cleared the low jump. She imagined her ordeal was over, but she soon realised that this was only the start as, again and again, the cameras were trained on her. ‘One last shot,’ Stuart told her. He was regarding her speculatively. ‘I’d like a picture of you taking your grey over that eight-barred sheep fence? How does that strike you?’