The Rouseabout Girl

by Gloria Bevan

  ‘Of course.’ Lanie had cleared higher jumps than the barbed fence when taking part in gymkhanas and shows in town, and hadn’t Jard told her that Bluey had done well for himself when competing in local showjumping contests?

  ‘Right—you’re on camera!’ At the signal she set her mount to the barrier and Bluey gathered himself to take the jump, sailing effortlessly over the wire and landing on the other side.

  ‘Tremendous!’ The camera team appeared to be delighted with the success of the action shots they had taken, and Lanie bent to pat Bluey’s sweat-stained neck. Presently the two men were packing away their gear in the car. ‘We’ll take a few shots of the track down to the beach,’ Tony told her, ‘and we’ll see you back at the homestead. Don’t get out of the saddle, will you, and don’t change a thing. We like you just the way you are!’

  ‘That’s the trouble. But if you insist—’ She rode away to find Jard. When she reached the hill paddock the steers were milling around on the grass and Jard’s tail figure was visible among the damp green bush at the foot of the slope. Even before Lanie reached the tree-ferns that clustered in the gully she could hear the sound of water running in the creek nearby.

  She reined in at his side. 'Mission completed?’

  He swung around to face her. ‘My one is. How about yours?’

  She smiled. ‘Not really. Those television fellows can be very persuasive when they set their minds to anything. They insist on taking more pictures of Bluey and me, and this time the background is to be the homestead steps.’

  ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘You sound,’ she said, ‘simply delighted about the whole affair.’ She threw him a teasing glance. ‘I expect it’s because the documentary they’re making will really put Rangimarie on the map, show people what a fantastic place it is. You must be feeling very proud today!’

  ‘I sure am!’ There was an odd note in his tone she couldn’t fathom. ‘But that’s not the reason.’

  She sent him a puzzled glance, but at something in his eyes she didn’t pursue the matter. They turned their mounts and soon they were riding in at the entrance gates to the homestead.

  ‘Help!’ Lanie eyed the group gathered at the foot of the verandah steps. ‘Everyone’s come to watch the proceedings! The word must have been passed along the grapevine and they’re all waiting for the camera crew to arrive.’ She waved to Mary and Debbie, who waved enthusiastically in return. ‘Good for you!’ they called. Her gaze moved to Brent, who grinned and sent her a thumbs-up sign, and the two young shepherds smiled shyly in her direction. Edna, still wearing her snowy cooking apron, stood in the front of the group beside Clara, and both looked up at Lanie with approval. At the last moment Mike, the head shepherd came to join the group.

  ‘I feel such a mess,’ Lanie whispered to Jard. ‘If only I’d had a chance to clean up a bit and change.’

  ‘You look terrific!’ The softness of his tone and his warm appreciative glance sent her discouraging thoughts winging, and excitement pulsed through her veins. What did anything else matter when he was looking at her the way he was at this moment?

  ‘Jard!’ Paula came hurrying down the verandah steps looking, Lanie thought wistfully, eye-catching and cool and fresh in her tailored fawn jodhpurs and immaculate , cream silk shirt. ‘Darling!’ She reached his side and gazed meltingly up into his face, the black shining fringe of hair blowing back from her forehead. ‘At last you’ve come back! Honestly, you’d never believe what’s been happening around here!’ Lanie she completely ignored. ‘The TV team are waiting to get some shots around the place. They're making a documentary on sheep stations of the country—and guess what? They want some pictures of a girl who can ride, but I told them they’d have to wait until you got back, then I’d see about helping them out. Luckily,’ she added with immense self-satisfaction, ‘I had my riding gear here.’ She sparkled her bright glance into his eyes. ‘Well, what do you think, Jard? Will I do?’

  Before he could answer the question, the camera team arrived in their car and quickly began setting up their cameras. Paula turned away. ‘I’ll have to make these boys happy!’ She approached the two young men, a dazzling smile curving her lips. ‘Here I am, all ready and waiting! If you want to take me on horseback I’ll get one of the boys to go and saddle up—’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Stuart cut in smoothly. ‘We found a photogenic subject right on the spot, and everything’s jacked up.’

  ‘What?’ As Paula’s dark eyes flashed angrily, he added placatingly, ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get some shots of you later, just to prove that a girl living in the outback can show town girls a thing or two when it comes to looking like a million dollars, tops in hair styling, fashion garments, make-up, the lot! But for the outdoor shots, we’re looking for the real thing,’ he gestured towards Lanie, ‘like Lanie over here?’

  ‘You must be crazy'?’ Paula’s face had turned very pale. ‘I’ve lived around here all my life,’ she spluttered, ‘and she’s just the rouseabout girl!’

  ‘Thing is, she can ride. Those jumping shots we’ve got of her—’

  ‘Ride? I happen to hold the show-jumping championship for the whole of the North Island! Besides,’ Paula’s red lips curled contemptuously, ‘just look at her! Black sand and dirt all over her!’

  At that moment support arrived from an unexpected quarter. ‘Lanie’s your girl!’ It was Jard who had settled the matter. Lanie could scarcely believe what was happening. The camera team had preferred to photograph her in action rather than Paula, who was really beautiful, except when she was in a bad humour, as she was right at this moment. And Jard had agreed with their choice. The wild elation that was surging through her made her scarcely aware of Stuart's appeasing tones. ‘Look,’ he was saying to Paula, ‘we’ve got our girl rider, but we can fit you in with shots of the interior of the homestead. Make you an example of how a woman can be a gracious hostess even though she happens to be miles from civilisation, all that stuff.’ He warmed to his subject. ‘You could be shown standing beside one of those big Chinese vases up in the hall, and arranging flowers for the dining table. How about that?’

  ‘Thanks very much!’ Paula snapped, and turning swiftly, she hurried up the steps. ‘Don’t trouble yourself about me!’ she threw back over her shoulder.

  ‘Pity.’ Stuart watched her vanish into the house. He shrugged his shoulders philosophically. ‘Oh well, you can’t win them all,’ he observed to his team mate, ‘and so long as we’ve got Lanie on our side...’

  The camera crew took a lot of pictures showing Lanie turning in at the entrance on Bluey, approaching the house, seated on her mount at the foot of the steps. Again and again the cameras whirred until at last they sent her a signal. ‘Okay, you can relax now. A few shots of the interior of the house and we’ll be on our way.’ Paula, evidently determined not to make an appearance while the television technicians were working, remained in her room, and it was Jard who escorted the photographers over the weathered old homestead while Lanie rode back to the stables.

  She was busy brushing her horse down when Brent came to join her. ‘Gee, that’s one programme we won’t be missing on the TV! How does it feel to be a star?’

  Ruefully she eyed her torn blouse. ‘Awful! I’m scared to look in a mirror for what I might see! If only they hadn’t insisted on taking shots of me as is. I’d love to have got tidied up first.’

  He grinned. ‘They couldn’t risk that. You might have turned up looking a fashion model like Paula. She didn’t look too happy about being passed over for you.’ Picking up a brush, he too began brushing the sweat and sand from the horse’s thick coat. ‘Pity,’ he muttered, ‘that Jard didn’t have as much sense as those two guys in the camera crew!’

  Lanie pretended not to have caught the candid comment. Until this moment she hadn’t realised the interest taken by the staff in the happenings of the station. Somehow it was refreshing and novel to meet someone who didn’t belong to the ‘isn’t-Paula-wonderful’ club,
even if it was only one of the station hands.

  When she got back to the homestead the camera crew had left to spend the night at another station some miles distant, and Paula was seated on a wicker chair on the verandah. No doubt, Lanie mused with a stab of the heart, she was waiting for Jard to return to the homestead.

  Paula’s glance for Lanie, as she made to pass, was tense. ‘Don’t let it go to your head! Evidently the TV guys wanted someone ordinary,’ the sneering twist to the red lips left no doubt as to Paula’s feelings, ‘like you!’

  Lanie paused, looking down at the lovely, anger-torn face. ‘Just what are you getting at?’

  Paula shrugged her shoulders. ‘You know what I mean.’

  All at once across the screen of Lanie’s mind flashed a picture of Jard with that look in his eyes, his low intimate tone echoed in her mind. ‘To me, you look wonderful!’ It couldn’t merely be pride that was pricking the other girl, or why did such hatred glow in her eyes? The deprecating feelings that Paula invariably aroused in her fell away and in their place came a newly-found sense of confidence in herself. Paula, who was so utterly lovely to look at—well, when she was in a pleasant mood—and who possessed all the money she required to enhance her beauty, was clearly jealous of her! She pondered the matter all the time she took a cool shower, washed her hair under the spray and afterwards changed into fresh panties and bra. Over her towel-dried hair she slipped a cool linen dress in water-lily tonings of palest green and cream, then she went out into the sunshine to drop down on the warm dry grass while the shining reddish-gold strands dried in the breeze.

  Lulled by the languorous heat of the day, she was only half aware of voices somewhere close at hand, yet the speakers were out of sight. Probably, she mused dreamily, they were standing on the pathway concealed from her sight by a rose-covered trellis.

  ‘I had to find you, Jard—’ Paula’s strong carrying tones banished all Lanie’s feeling of drowsiness. ‘I haven’t had a chance yet to tell you why I’m here—’

  ‘First time I knew you had to have a reason for coming.’ Jard’s voice was tinged with amusement.

  ‘Well, not really, but this time—Look—’ There was a note of urgency in the strong feminine tones. ‘I’ve had a message from my friend Anna about Jason and Nita. Anna rang to tell me that the newlyweds are due back from their honeymoon today and Anna’s getting up a housewarming party for them tonight. I told her that I hadn’t a clue where they’re going to live, but she said you’d been to the farm when the other people owned it and you could bring me over there with you and save her the bother of contacting you about the party. You know something?’ At the sudden intimacy of Paula’s tone, Lanie froze. ‘This just could turn out to be the most important decision you ever made in your life, wedding bells and all! I—’

  Lanie didn’t wait to hear any more. She was running over the grass, scarcely knowing where she was going, only that she must escape Paula's cajoling tones. All the happiness of the day, the companionship of the long ride with Jard over the sandhills, fled her mind and there was only hopelessness and a dreadful ache of anguish. She had known all along that Paula held his heart, everyone knew, so why had she tried to blind herself to reality? The brief occasions when he had seemed to be attracted to her had been no more than her own longing ... and wishing. Paula’s words had shown her the utter futility of hopes and dreams, and now even Rangimarie, with its life-style she so much enjoyed, could hold her no longer.

  ‘I’ll get in touch with Mervyn in the morning,’ she told herself resolutely, ‘and tell him that I’ve changed my mind about that offer of his to take me back to town with him when he leaves here at the end of the week.’ At least that will make him happy, she thought desolately, but not me—never me.

  That evening at dinner Paula held the conversation that echoed around the table and only Lanie sat silent, Edna’s light and fluffy dessert of marshmallow topped with passion fruit lying untouched on the plate beside her. She was scarcely aware of Paula’s excited tones as she talked and laughed, effectively silencing any mention of the recent visit of the television crew with a recital of some flattering anecdote concerning herself. Lanie’s thoughts were endlessly of Jard and Paula on their long journey through the darkness, together. Had she really managed to persuade herself that by some miracle Jard might come to care for her the way she felt about him? Crazy!

  Later, when Paula and Jard were on the way out to the waiting car in the driveway, it seemed to Lanie that Paula, a vivid and arresting figure in her black and silver caftan, appeared more than ever happy and triumphant. Well, why not, prompted her heavy thoughts, when Jard loved her, wanted to marry her?

  ‘Goodbye, everyone?’ Paula’s brilliant smile hardened as her gaze flickered towards Lanie’s sun-warmed face. The next moment she was gay again, blowing kisses of farewell around the room. ‘I think they’re all jealous of us,’ she was clinging to Jard’s arm as she gazed provocatively up at him, ‘having all the fun tonight.’ He said nothing but grinned down into the lovely, laughing face. A few minutes later Lanie caught the sound of a car motor starting up below. If only, she mused despairingly, Paula weren’t so utterly lovely. Tonight she seemed radiant, and no wonder! Wouldn’t any girl look radiant, any girl who was loved by Jard!

  In an effort to divert her heavy thoughts she crossed the room and put a record on the stereo, but it was no use, the lilting melody served only to underline her own despairing thoughts. Slowly the evening dragged on, and while the others watched the television screen, Lanie’s mind supplied different pictures. Jard would be dancing with Paula. He always danced with Paula, everyone had told her, except of course for the odd duty dance, like giving his rouseabout girl a merry spin around the floor on the odd occasion. Edna and Clara, with teasing remarks to Lanie regarding their new television star at the station, went to bed before midnight and only Sandy, who never retired early, stayed to keep her company. If only, she mused bleakly, there weren’t the long night hours that bloomed ahead.

  At last he got to his feet, stretching lazily. ‘Better call it a day, lass, if you want to catch up with your beauty sleep!’

  She rose reluctantly. ‘I guess.’ She was switching off the standard light in a corner of the room when an odd gasping sound startled her and she turned and saw that Sandy was slumped back on the settee, his face pallid and a grey tinge around his lips. She had to bend low to catch his muttered words, ‘Pills ... my room.’ She was gone in a flash, running along the passage, flinging open the door to his room and switching on the light with trembling fingers. Where would a man keep his life-saving medication? On the bureau—nothing there. The front drawer? The small box was in full view and snatching it up she ran back along the hall. ‘Please, please, God,’ she prayed, let me be in time!’

  For a dreadful moment, seeing the inert figure, she had a sickening feeling that she was too late, then with shaking fingers she forced the pill through Sandy’s colourless lips. ‘Sit up, Sandy, try to sit up!’ She cradled his head in her arms.

  ‘I’m—okay.’ His voice was no more than a whisper.

  ‘What’s this?’ Jard’s terse tones reached her from the doorway, then the next moment he was at her side, his gazing moving from the pills scattered over the floor to Sandy’s ghastly features. ‘A heart attack? Dad! Wake up! Wake up!’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Lanie told him on a great sigh of relief. ‘I’ve seen him this way before, and if he gets the pills in time—’

  He was scarcely listening to her, she realised the next minute. She had never seen him like this, his eyes dark with shock, his voice stricken. ‘You’ll be fine, Dad, you’ll get over this!’

  Sandy’s eyelids fluttered and a light of recognition flickered in his eyes. ‘Jard! What the hell are you doing back here?’ With an effort he raised his head then essayed a weak grin. ‘Not to worry. Lanie knows how to look after me.’ His low tones strengthened. ‘She’s had a bit of practice in saving my life. Have to ... let him into our little se
cret, eh, Lanie? No use trying to cover up any longer about that other time when I came to grief at the shareholders’ meeting in town and you took me home and looked after me.’

  Jard was gazing towards her. ‘Is that true?’ His tone was laced with urgency as if the matter were very important to him. ‘Tell me, Lanie, what does he mean?’ Before she could answer he had gently drawn her to her feet. ‘So that’s why he was at your flat in town? That’s why he insisted on bringing you down here to work for us? You fooled me, Dad,’ the gaze he bent on Sandy was a mixture of love and tenderness and anger all mixed up, Lanie thought. ‘And you,’ his voice softened and there was a tenderness in it that made her pulses leap, ‘you didn’t let on—’

  ‘My fault!’ Sandy’s voice was gaining strength with every moment. ‘She was doing it to protect me. I didn’t want you to know you had a sick old man on your hands. But so long as I've got medication, and Lanie here, I’ll be right as rain! That’s why I want her to stay here for as long as she likes. Had ideas,’ he managed a wink in his son’s direction, ‘that things might have worked out that way—’

  ‘Leave that part of it to me!’ said Jard. There was a triumphant, excited ring in his voice that Lanie couldn’t understand. Unless Paula—Her spirits dropped with a plop, why must she keep forgetting about the other girl? ‘I’ll be as good as gold now,’ Sandy was saying weakly. ‘A good night’s sleep and you’ll never know this had happened. I don’t need any help, thanks.’ Slowly he got to his feet. ‘You stay with Lanie, Jard. She’s the one we have to look after!’

  ‘I intend to. Don’t go away, Lanie!’ His eyes flashed a message and there was something in his exultant glance that sent excitement singing along her veins. As she watched him helping Sandy out of the room, despite the older man’s protestations, she told herself that she had no intention of going away just now, not with Jard speaking to her in that tone of voice, as though he were promising her something ... something wonderful. But of course—she made an effort to wrench her whirling senses back to sanity—probably he-merely wanted to thank her for being at hand when Sandy was urgently in need of medication. There she went again, she scolded herself, dreaming up incredible, heavenly things all because of a few carelessly spoken words, forgetting all about ordinary matters like reaction after shock—and gratitude.