by Margaret Way
Curt shrugged. “I do my best.”
The reason Courtney had driven down to the holding yard was because Curt had sent word ahead he would be touching down on Murraree in another thirty minutes. He had a potential buyer lined up for Murraree’s Bell helicopter, a pilot and a very skilful mechanic who was prepared to do the work that was needed on the vintage chopper. Courtney knew Darcy would want to be on hand to greet him.
It was Curt who had flown Courtney protected by a neck brace the station’s first aid room kept on hand to Koomera Crossing Bush Hospital with the highly anxious Darcy as a passenger. As ever Curt had been a tower of strength. She couldn’t imagine life with out him. She also sensed from a certain stillness in him she would have to work hard to convince him of that when things settled. Her heart needed him. Her soul needed him. Her body was crying out for him.
The afternoon their mother was to arrive—Curt had made it easy by arranging a charter flight—Darcy made herself scarce. She had promised Courtney a visitor.
“Not Adam?” Courtney, with a livid blue-black-purple bruise on her temple was very still beneath the white coverlet. She gave Darcy a haunting look.
“No, not Adam, though he’s rung many times and sent those beautiful flowers.” Darcy turned her head to acknowledge the exquisite arrangement.
“Nice of him,” Courtney responded, her eyelids lowered. “So who is it?” She couldn’t keep what sounded very much like disappointment out of her voice.
“You’ll see.” Darcy conquered her own feelings to smile. “I promise you’re going to feel so much better when your visitor arrives.”
She met Curt later at the pub where she’d been staying during Courtney’s time in hospital. It was a miracle he didn’t get tired of it all, she thought, but Curt was one of those men destined to help friends and neighbours through all sorts of crises. Courtney was due to be discharged the following morning and Curt was to fly them back home.
“You’re going to ask your mother to stay for a few days, aren’t you?” he prompted, settling back with an ice cold beer. They were having a late lunch in the very pleasant dining room which served light but surprisingly good meals.
“You should have been a priest,” Darcy said, all churned up inside.
“It might have been easier than trying to court you,” he retaliated with a crisp edge in his voice. “You can’t let her go straight back home. Courtney loves her mother.”
“I think it’s a bit too much to ask I should love her too,” Darcy said and gave a brittle laugh.
“You’re suffering either way, Darcy.” Curt let his gaze range over her. She had taken to wearing her hair out so it swirled in a dark silken cloud with every movement of her head. She looked tired but impossibly beautiful. Her expression had more than a touch of anguish. He reached across to shake her slender fingers. “Everything will work out, Darcy. It will take a lot from you but it will be worth it in the end. You’re being offered a chance at reconciliation. Not just you. All of you.”
“What if I’ve got nothing to say?” she whispered, gathering up his strong hand and holding it to her mouth.
“When have you ever had nothing to say?” How her actions confounded him. Time after time.
“This is different. I don’t have the heart for it. My mother deserted me.”
“Yes she did!” he agreed, “but somehow you’ve survived.”
“I’ve always had you,” she said simply. “I see now I’ve always drawn strength from you. Not Dad.”
His smile was faintly twisted. “Who spent his life causing problems and misery. Ah well, he had his time. The future is for us. Eat up, Darcy,” he urged briskly. “You’re getting way too thin.”
“According to the Duchess of Windsor a woman could never be too thin—”
“Or too rich. I know.”
Darcy fixed him with her eyes. “Will you come back with me?”
“No.” He shook his handsome head. “I’ll walk back to the hospital with you and I’ll wait in town to say hello to your mother. But you’re on your own, my love.”
The tender note in his voice after their long week of estrangement made her heart leap in her breast like a fish to the gaff. “Do you know my greatest fear?” she asked, staring deep into his eyes.
“Can I handle it?” Curt’s voice was quiet.
“Is that you might abandon me,” Darcy breathed, from the depths of her being.
For a few moments the small hospital room was locked in silence as though each woman was holding her breath.
“Oh, my God, Darcy!” Tremulously Marian cleared her dry throat. She rose very shakily to her feet, staring intently at her older daughter in a heart broken, loving way. She was desperate to reach out, but Darcy’s high mettled expression said very plainly, “Don’t crowd me.” Marian fought to keep control. It was anguish. Worse that that. She couldn’t prevent the emotional tears from pouring down her cheeks. “Darcy!” she whispered, experiencing the deep howling feeling she had lost her daughter forever. This beautiful dark-haired, jewel eyed young woman was a vision. She was tall even with her swan’s neck bent, allowing her lustrous hair to act as a protective shield.
“Please sit down again,” the vision said, her tone devoid of a daughter’s affection, but kind enough. “It must have been a long trip?” Despite the regal demeanour Darcy had inherited from her paternal grandmother, she felt dazed, though she would rather have died than admit it. Her mother had scarcely changed for all the years they had been apart. Marian’s short blonde hair was beautifully groomed. She had kept her youthful figure. Her delicate features were firm. Her skin was lovely, with scarcely a line. The blue trouser suit she wore with a white tank top was cool and pretty. She had pearls at her ears. A beautiful sapphire and diamond ring threw off light above a white gold wedding band. The diamond solitaire Jock McIvor had given Marian, as big as a man’s thumbnail was still in its box in the homestead safe.
Courtney would look like this at the same age, Darcy thought. But Darcy knew in her heart Courtney was stronger. Courtney wouldn’t allow a man to rule her life. Courtney wouldn’t forsake her child. Darcy was more than willing to take a huge bet on that.
“I want to thank you for letting me come,” Marian was saying in her gentle voice that was so much like Courtney’s. She resumed her bedside seat, grasping her younger daughter’s hand for moral support.
“Courtney wanted you,” Darcy said as though that explained it. “Even when she was badly concussed she was murmuring your name.”
“I can’t tell you how glad I am to be here,” Marian turned back to Darcy. “It was so good of you. I know what my being here involves for you, Darcy.”
“I doubt that you do,” Darcy shook her head. “But welcome anyway. We’re expecting Courtney to be discharged tomorrow morning. I’m sure you’d like to stay on at the homestead for a while to be with her. Courtney would like you to see all the work that’s been done. She’s played quite a hand in that.”
Courtney’s reaction was almost pitiful in its joy. “You mean Mum can come back home?” she asked as though that was all she had ever wanted.
“That’s what I said.” Darcy smiled down at her sister. “How are the ribs?”
“Okay so long as no one tries to hug me,” Courtney lay very quietly, but her eyes were blazing. “I don’t want to get too carried away, but I’ve dreamed of this day even if I had to get knocked unconscious for it to happen. The three of us together.” Her small face looked so indescribably tender and sweet Darcy bent to kiss her.
“You’re a heroine!”
Courtney swallowed back tears of joy. “You’d do the same for me.”
“You bet I would!” Darcy said. “I know it’s cured Sean of play-acting at being a bull fighter. Getting and holding onto good men is difficult and Sean needs a lot of training. He doesn’t yet know how to read the country or handle cattle. The love of adventure doesn’t make one a bushman. But we agree on one thing. Neither of us wants to see that particular b
ull ever again.”
The meeting lasted almost an hour. It couldn’t have been called a great success. It wasn’t bathed in the radiance of reconciliation. Darcy chose not to respond beyond politeness to her mother’s overtures. She allowed Courtney to do the talking. But the meeting couldn’t be judged a failure either. Darcy had in her fashion acknowledged her mother. Marian’s defection had in so many ways stolen Darcy’s childhood. She had been left with deep emotional wounds in exchange. Deep wounds needed time to heal. Yet Courtney’s chance accident as upsetting as it was had played an important part in changing their lives. It had opened the door on a better future.
Life continued. It was time for the big muster.
The wilder cattle, the rogues, liked to hide out in the curving, twisting maze of lignum swamps running across the station. There they could ignore the noisy helicopters that hovered in the royal-blue sky above them. Cattle weren’t stupid. The older ones had learned choppers might make a frightening din but they couldn’t actually touch them. Consequently driving the bullocks out of the swamps and getting them to the yards, ultimately to the market place was a never ending problem.
The previous couple of days Darcy had been using a chartered helicopter along with its pilot. The station helicopter had been sold thanks to Curt and his wide circle of contacts, but as yet time was limited for Darcy and Curt as trustee and experienced adviser to take a trip to the city to buy a replacement. The charter pilot had worked in the vast riverine desert called the Channel Country many times before, but he had never worked on Murraree. As a result there were lots of difficulties with air to ground communications. Often Tom and the men were left guessing what the pilot intended to do. On two occasions, valuable time had been lost when the pilot started pushing the cattle in the wrong direction. It was a very expensive operation and not proving all that successful.
This put Darcy in the position of asking Curt for yet another favour. Sunset Downs had two helicopters. Could she borrow one just for the day?
“I hope you’re not thinking of going up yourself?” he’d asked, just as she knew he would. “It’s dangerous work.”
“And I can do it.”
“Noted, but I prefer you didn’t. I’ll arrange something. If necessary I’ll come myself.”
Darcy couldn’t hide her relief. In the long months McIvor had been ill rogue cattle had become something of a problem. These weren’t docile beasts that could be driven back to the yards without much trouble. These were wild animals so desperate to get away and so fast in full flight, it was easier to let some go rather than exhaust stockmen and horses in giving chase. It was endless back breaking work in sizzling heat. The Northern wet season was coming up. It was quite possible the station would swap near drought conditions for floods. The pioneering era in the great Outback was by no means over, Darcy thought hanging on herself by sheer grit and determination.
She was making her way back to the homestead, bone weary but so glad Curt himself was bringing in the chopper that morning. Although Curt’s much loved father had lost his life in a helicopter crash there was no option but for all station owners to continue to use the “humming birds” for easy transport and cattle mustering. Darcy had mustered with the men for years, camped out with them, but always with her father present. In that respect McIvor had always acted as her supreme protector. Surprisingly McIvor hadn’t handled the chopper as well as she did when she’d hit her stride but she’d watched Curt working cattle many times and had to concede he was the master.
Across her path a party of emus, maybe twenty, Australia’s great flightless birds, trod their way majestically through the silver sea of mirage, dipping their long necks and their tail plumes at the noise of the approaching jeep. As she drove nearer they took off on their long sturdy legs doing she judged around fifty klms an hour. She had clocked them at speed doing sixty and keeping pace with the jeep but they quickly tired
She was entering the main compound when she recognised the new stockman, Prentice, coming out of the men’s quarters. She couldn’t understand that at all. He should have been out with the others. She brought the jeep to a halt calling out to him: “Hey, Prentice! Shouldn’t you be out with the others?”
He turned very slowly, eyeing her in his unsettling manner. “Well if it isn’t Lady Boss.”
“Ms. McIvor to you,” Darcy said briskly. “You haven’t answered my question.”
“And what was that again?” He walked towards her, holding onto her with his unshifting gaze.
“Well you’ve got about a minute to answer,” Darcy clipped off.
“I’ll say this for yah,” he laughed, coming right up to the open jeep and resting his calloused hand on the door. “You’re cool, real cool. That’s what attracted me to you in the first place. ’Course you’re beautiful too.”
“I think you’d better stop right there.” Darcy stared back at him not making the mistake of showing the faintest sign of weakness, let alone encouragement. “Go on your way. And go now!”
“So Ms. McIvor expects to be obeyed without argument or question?”
His tone was so aggressive, Darcy bridled. “Indeed I do. That’s if you want to hold onto your job.” She forced herself to look back into his deep set dark eyes. He was tall, broad shouldered, his body formidably fit. In other words, he was potentially dangerous.
“It looks like I’ve used up my time here already,” he confessed. “McLaren doesn’t want me around.”
“Tom told you to come back?”
He nodded. “Bloody old fool! All because I chose to kick a horse.”
“I’m sure you’ve forgotten to mention the ferocity of the kick,” Darcy accused coldly. “Tom wouldn’t sack you for nothing.”
“You could overturn his decision,” he suggested, a strange look of excitement in his eyes.
“You’re joking,” Darcy told him brusquely. “If Tom McLaren saw fit to dismiss you his decision stands. Pack your things. I want you off my property.”
“And how am I going to get off, Lady?” he drawled.
“You rode in. Ride out,” she said, her voice sharp and authoritative.
“It’s a helluva long thirsty trip to any kind of civilisation,” he broke in.
“There’s permanent water. There’s bush tucker. You had a job but you’ve been pushing it since the day you arrived.” With considerable relief Darcy was aware a chopper had landed somewhere in the vicinity but Prentice appeared so focused on her he hadn’t even blinked much less looked around.
“Lookin’ at you, you mean?” His breathing was audible. Now he lifted a hand and deliberately stroked her cheek. “It’s glossy like warm satin. I didn’t realize how starved for a woman I was until I saw you.” His eyes moved to her breasts.
“Don’t force me to call for help,” Darcy warned, her eyes flaring.
“What your little sister?” He gave a laughing grunt. “Pretty little thing but if I had to choose it’d be you! You’re definitely a fighter. I like fight in a woman.”
Darcy felt the anger rise in her chest. “Get the hell out of here,” she gritted, her voice deadly serious.
“When I’m thinkin’ of pluckin’ up the courage to kiss you?” He leaned in towards her, his expression so awful, so lustful Darcy knew straightaway she had trouble. “No matter what happens I’ll be able to say I kissed Ms. Darcy McIvor of Murraree Station. That’s my girl. Turn up those lovely lips of yours,” he urged. “Anyone ever tell yah they’re luscious!”
Darcy’s hand shot out like a jack knife, cracking across his jaw. “You want to get off Murraree alive?” she threatened, adrenalin firing her blood.
He stared at her unperturbed. In fact as she could see, turned on. “Lady, you can’t bullshit me. I’m just living for the moment.” Painfully he grasped her chin turning up her face to him.
Darcy threw her head back, realizing with utter fury how physically vulnerable a woman was in a man’s hands. She was all set to rasp her nails across his face. If she could get on
her feet she could use some of the defensive moves she had mastered. Even then she didn’t expect to hold off a strong man like Prentice for long.
Up close, he reeked of cigarettes and dry sweat. “This is your last chance, Prentice. Let me go!” she ordered grimly.
“You’re wastin’ your time, sweetheart,” he jeered, savouring the fire in her. “There’s no one around to protect yah!”
“Isn’t there?” From behind them a man’s voice lashed out like a whip. “Move away from the jeep.”
Prentice backed off immediately, giving Darcy the opportunity to scramble out of the vehicle. She ran to Curt, laying her hand on his arm. He didn’t appear to notice. “It’s Prentice, the new man.”
“The guy you hired?” He didn’t look at her. He kept his eyes on the other man.
Did he have to make it sound like she had exercised terrible judgment? Which as it turned out she had.
“Seriously, there’s nuthin’ much wrong here, Mr. Berenger.” Prentice tried to hide his dismay behind a swaggering bravado. The last thing he wanted was to take a crack at Berenger whose position and exploits were well known to him. For one thing he’d get the life pounded out of him. For another, he’d never find work again. “I was just tellin’ Ms McIvor how beautiful she is.”
“What an extremely foolhardy thing to do,” Curt rasped, his face set and dark. “Go up to the homestead, Darcy.” His brilliant gaze raked her briefly. “There’s a little situation here that needs to be addressed. I’ll join you shortly.”
He looked so menacing, so much like a tiger ready to spring, Darcy was afraid he might inflict injury on the stockman. “Don’t waste time on him, Curt,” she begged.
He continued to ignore her. “Stay exactly where you are, Prentice,” he ordered, as the other man started to back away. “Get back in the jeep, Darcy and drive away. Do it now!”
His tone gave her no other option but to obey. “Tom sacked him,” she called, getting behind the wheel.
“Top marks for Tom!” Curt responded very tightly. “Before you go, I’m sure Prentice here wants to apologise to you.”