‘What was the word Ewan used the other day that meant crazy?’
Darby thought. ‘Hissy fit.’
‘That’s it. I hope Rocket stops having hissy fits, so I can saddle him before Ewan gets here.’
Rocket lowered his head and pawed at the ground. Talking softly, she moved forward. ‘We have to get you saddled, boy, otherwise Ewan can’t find his cows.’
She slipped the reins over the stock horse’s neck and then slid the bit into his mouth. Standing on tiptoe, she managed to manoeuvre the headpiece behind his ears and the brow band beneath his forelock.
‘Good boy,’ she crooned as he tossed his head. His ears flicked and he turned to look towards the side road. Kree followed his gaze to where Ewan’s ute approached, a plume of red dust behind it. From the kennels beneath the jacaranda tree, Midget and Freckle barked. She patted Rocket’s neck before making her way to the tack shed to collect the saddlecloth and saddle.
Ewan drove into the machinery shed. He emerged straight away, his phone to his ear and his hand in Braye’s. Braye caught sight of Darby and he pulled his fingers free from Ewan’s grasp to run towards his brother. Ewan followed, purpose and determination lengthening his stride. His shoulders were set and his hooded eyes stark. Kree hefted the heavy saddle onto the hitching rail. Heaven help the stock thieves if he caught up with them.
‘Bad men took the cows,’ Braye panted as he stopped before Darby.
The corners of Darby’s mouth turned down. ‘I know.’
‘Uncy Ewy’s going to get them back.’
‘And Kree.’
Both boys turned to look at her as she approached, their eyes round.
‘Braye, will you be okay if Pru looks after you this afternoon? I told Darby if it wasn’t okay, I’d stay. And I’d stay, too, if it wasn’t fine with you.’
Braye nodded without any hesitation. ‘Pru’s fun.’ He glanced to where Ewan stood a short distance away still talking on the phone. ‘But Uncle Ewy said to Travis you should stay.’
‘Did he now? And what did Travis say?’
‘He said very loudly for Uncle Ewy to stop being a princess and to let you go. If he didn’t, Travis said he’d come himself and not fly his plane.’
‘Thankfully, I think your uncle has been outvoted on me going with –’ Rocket’s high-pitched whinny drowned out the rest of her sentence.
Ewan ended his call and strode towards the restless stock horse.
Kree held her breath. Between Ewan’s tension and Rocket’s volatility, their meeting wasn’t going to end well. But as Ewan approached, the saddle over his arm, it was as though a magic wand had been waved. Ewan’s taut shoulders relaxed and Rocket’s agitated ground pawing stopped. Ewan touched Rocket’s nose and the big horse lowered his head. He gave a soft snort and rubbed his head on Ewan’s chest. Smiling, Ewan ran a gentle hand along the stock horse’s neck. No wonder Rocket hadn’t responded to their efforts to calm him. He was a one-man horse.
Kree could see Ewan’s mouth move, but couldn’t make out his words as he slid the saddlecloth into position, followed by the saddle. As he bent to collect the girth, the crunch of tyre-compressed gravel sounded from the driveway. She swung around to see Pru’s small, blue car stop in front of the homestead. Kree had thought the magnetic red-and-white P on the front of Pru’s car had stood for the first letter of her name until Tish explained it meant provisional driver and that Pru could now drive without an instructor.
The boys left Kree’s side and raced through the garden to Pru. She unloaded a basket of DVDs from off the back seat and then allowed the boys to drag her to Kree.
‘Thanks so much for rushing over,’ Kree said to the fresh-faced brunette with the quick smile.
‘It’s no problem. I’ve packed a bag to stay the night, if need be, and brought lots of movies.’
‘It’s much appreciated, Pru,’ Ewan’s deep voice said as he stood beside Kree. ‘Boys, Kree and I have to go now, but we’ll be home as soon as we can.’
Darby and Braye moved into his open arms and they shared a group hug. The boys then each gave Kree a tight cuddle.
Once on Banjo, Kree gave Pru and the boys a final wave before cantering after Ewan and Rocket, who’d already passed the machinery shed.
Kree concentrated on following Ewan and making sure she didn’t slow him down. Any other time, she would have taken mental snapshots of the rural scenery through which Ewan was steering a certain and unwavering course. Flat and fertile river flats gave way to undulating hills, and then rocky outcrops as they climbed higher. Every so often, Kree looked over her shoulder. If only she’d brought her sketchbook or camera. Her fingers itched to record the charm of the valley that was receding behind them. She glimpsed the wide wingspan of a distant eagle as it glided towards the ribbon-thin river meandering through the valley floor.
Each time she faced forward, Ewan’s back appeared a little more rigid, and the sky in front of them a little darker. The gaps between the trees thinned and their pace slowed as the horses picked their way over the uneven ground.
Wind danced in Banjo’s black mane and tugged at her ponytail, which was pulled through the back of her cap. Once delicate clouds now hung heavy and swollen. The scent of rain swirled around her. Flocks of pink and grey swooped and dived overhead as galahs raced the stiff breeze to find shelter. White cockatoos shrieked as they abandoned the branches they were covering like a winter snowfall.
Ewan pulled Rocket to a stop in front of a collection of granite boulders offering protection from the wind. Kree shivered, despite having rolled down the long sleeves on her lime-green cotton shirt. The temperature had dropped. The rain wouldn’t be far away.
‘How are you holding up?’ Ewan asked, his eyes probing hers.
‘I already know I won’t be able to sit for a week,’ she raised her voice to compete with the wind. ‘Otherwise, I’m peachy.’
Humour briefly toyed with his mouth before he took his mobile phone from his shirt pocket. Phone in hand, he nudged Rocket forward a few paces and then checked the screen.
‘We’ve been out of range but should be high enough now to receive a decent signal, if I can find the right spot.’
He held his mobile to his right. The phone beeped as messages poured in, confirming he’d found a signal pocket.
A burst of wind caught beneath the peaked front of her cap and Kree put a hand on her head to prevent her hat taking flight. She searched Ewan’s face as he lifted his phone to his ear and listened to his voicemail. Despite the worsening weather and the distance they would still need to cover, the glitter in his eyes hadn’t dulled. He was a man focused on protecting what was his.
Another wind-blast buffeted her hat. She took off the cap and stuffed it into the saddlebag. A raindrop stung her cheek. Another, her hand. They were going to get wet. Very wet. She hoped lightning wouldn’t snake across the now ink-blotted sky. She’d once been caught in a summer storm while riding in the foothills. She and Monty had almost made it to the stables when lightning had split and burned an old pine tree. The deafening boom and the brilliance of the flash had stayed with her long after the tree stump had stopped smouldering.
Banjo pranced beneath her.
‘It’s okay, buddy, we’ll be fine. The storm will pass soon.’ But the wind stole her words the instant they left her lips.
Ewan’s grin suddenly flashed. He returned the phone to his pocket. Relief erased the grooves carved beside his mouth and relaxed his rigid torso. He passed a hand over his face before speaking. It wasn’t necessary for Kree to catch the windblown fragments of his words to realise all was well. The cattle had been found.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The good news contained in Travis’s voicemail message brought Ewan’s world back into focus. The tunnel-vision driving him since he’d seen the gate’s padlock on the ground widened. He cast a quick eye skyward to examine the storm-black clouds. He’d aimed to reach a sheltered bluff on the other side of the ridge before the storm broke, but
now that there was no need to continue on to the stock route, he’d seek cover elsewhere. Knowing Kree wouldn’t hear his words, he swung Rocket around and pointed to their left. She stopped rubbing Banjo’s neck, gathered her reins and followed. They should be able to head out of the hills to lower ground before the heavens opened.
But as he led them the quickest way along the gully and away from the storm, the sky ripped apart. Raindrops sliced at his skin and pelted his bare head. He turned up his collar to prevent the rain sluicing down his neck and looked across at Kree. Her green shirt was already dark with water and plastered to her like a second skin. Hunched in the saddle, she gave him a thumbs-up. He returned her gesture but didn’t look away.
Her strength and courage continued to humble him. He’d set a gruelling pace and she’d ridden without complaint, determination to find the cattle firming her small chin. He’d been reluctant for her to come as the ride would be long and he’d not wanted anything to happen to her, especially should he have to confront the cattle thieves. But now all threats had passed, he was glad she was with him. Thunder growled and a streak of jagged lightning slashed across the sky. Kree flinched.
He reined in Rocket and as Banjo halted beside his paddock-mate, Ewan reached over to cup Kree’s wet cheek. His thumb brushed the fine line of her jaw. In the wind and rain, words would be futile, but she wouldn’t miss the reassurance of his touch. She nodded. He lowered his hand and urged Rocket forward.
As the last of the scrub gave way to an open paddock, Ewan gave Rocket his head. Thunder clapped, and after a brief delay, lightning again flashed. Banjo and Rocket’s hooves pounded as the horses raced over familiar ground. The clump of trees Ewan was looking for loomed out of the rain. He slowed Rocket before manoeuvring open the steel gate. Kree rode through and he pointed to a blurred rectangular shape. Gate closed, Rocket and Banjo needed no encouragement to race towards the tin shed that provided shade from the summer sun when Ewan and the boys swum in the nearby waterhole.
At the shed’s entrance, Ewan slid from the water-slicked saddle and held Banjo’s reins while Kree dismounted. He then led the two horses beneath the shelter and hooked the reins over the pegs on the back wall. The rain on the thin, rusted roof almost deafened him. He stripped off Rocket’s saddle and saddlecloth, while Kree did the same with Banjo’s. He then used the side of his hand as an impromptu sweat scraper to remove the excess water from the stock horse’s coat.
When he was done, Ewan helped Kree do the same for Banjo. Once they were finished, Ewan went to the corner of the shed and, stretching, felt along the top rafter until he located a tiny metal box containing a key. He took her hand and drew her towards the shed entrance. When she realised they were headed outside, she hesitated before her fingers tightened around his and she followed. Warmth from the knowledge that she trusted him blunted the storm’s chill, which was sucking the heat from his skin.
Lightning splintered the sky and Kree clutched his arm as he broke into a run. Together, they sprinted towards a larger rectangular shape behind the shed. Their boots thundered on the small wooden verandah of the ramshackle hut as they reached the shelter.
‘What is this place?’ Kree shouted above the rain as she released his arm. Her chest rose and fell from the pace of their quick dash, her shirt clinging to her curves.
Metal grated as Ewan inserted the large metal key into the front door and twisted the handle.
‘We call it the camping hut.’ He waved a hand towards the grey wall of rain surrounding them. ‘You can’t see it now, but there’s a waterhole over there where we fish and swim.’
Kree gazed towards where he pointed, tipped her head to the side and squeezed out the excess water from her ponytail. The water joined the pool around her wet boots. He’d need to get her warm as soon as possible. He pushed open the creaking door, stepped into the gloomy interior of the hut and headed for the kitchen cupboard for a lamp. He turned on the lantern and set it on a flat block of wood that doubled as both chair and table. He busied himself setting a fire in the fireplace from the basket of kindling and wood he and the boys always replenished before they left.
‘Need a h … hand?’ Kree asked as she stood beside him, her arms wrapped around her middle.
He shook his head as he moved to a large wooden chest. He lifted the lid and pulled out a rolled-up sleeping bag and handed it to her.
‘Here, this is Braye’s, he left it behind last trip. It’s kid-sized, but it will be better than staying in your wet clothes. Your lips are already turning blue.’
He collected a folded-up, white, metal drying rack from behind the chest and, flicking it open, stood the rack in front of the soon-to-be-lit fire.
‘I thought Tish was crazy bringing this, but I’ve lost count of the wet clothes we’ve had to dry. Needless to say, they’re usually Braye’s.’
‘Why doesn’t that surprise m … me?’
The sleeping bag dropped from her trembling hands.
Ewan scooped it up, slid off the cover and draped the sleeping bag over his arm. Keeping his expression neutral, he then moved to unbutton her top shirt-button.
‘How about I help? Thanks to the boys, I’m an expert at buttons, and by the time you get them undone, you’ll be snap-frozen.’
She nodded, clenching her teeth to stop them chattering. Colour flared in her pale cheeks as his fingers brushed the icy skin at her throat.
He had no trouble unfastening the top two buttons, but when he reached the third button, nestled between her breasts, the tremble in his own fingers had little to do with the cold. Soaked and bedraggled, she still took his breath away and stirred longings that could never be fulfilled.
Just when he thought he’d have to rip the third button off, it slipped through the buttonhole. His relief was short-lived. Her shirt parted to reveal the swell of her soft flesh above her white bra. A rivulet of water from where her ponytail rested on her shoulder slid over her collarbone and into the valley of her cleavage.
He moved to the fourth button, forcing his hands to co-operate. He had to get her shirt off and the fire started before he listened to the suggestions his hormones were making about other ways he could warm her. The fourth button slid free, followed by the last two. He took a quick step away and, avoiding her eyes, passed her the sleeping bag.
‘Thanks,’ she said, cold rendering her voice as shaky as his barely-there self-control.
‘Anytime.’
He swung away to light the fire. Behind him, he heard the jingle as she unfastened her belt buckle, the rasp of wet denim as her jeans slid down her thighs, and the rustle of the sleeping bag.
She hung her shirt, jeans and socks over the rack and then shuffled forward to stand in front of the growing flames. Her splayed hand held the sleeping bag in place just below her collarbones. She held out her other hand towards the fire, a hair-tie encircling her slim wrist. The vanilla scent of her now loose and damp hair filled the small hut.
Firelight flickered over her smooth shoulders, left bare except for two white bra straps. ‘Ewan, you’d better get out of your wet clothes, too. You must be as cold as I am.’
He placed another piece of wood on the fire and slowly straightened. The sleeping bag had dipped to reveal a shadow of cleavage. He fought to keep his gaze above her chin.
‘I’m fine. The fire will warm the room soon.’
‘If you’re so fine, how come you’re shaking?’
‘I’m not.’
She leaned towards him and placed her hand over his heart. ‘Yes, you are, and you’re as cold as an ice-box.’
He moved away from her touch at the same time as he flicked open his top shirt button. He’d get out of his shirt and end the discussion. Resolve had set her mouth and his control didn’t have the strength to do five rounds with her. He had to pick his battles. As long as he had his boots and jeans on, he was virtually dressed, anyway. He shrugged out of his shirt and draped it on the drying rack.
‘Hot drink?’ he asked on his way to
the tiny kitchenette. ‘There’s black coffee, black tea or hot chocolate.’
‘Hot chocolate would be great, thanks.’
From the sink cupboard, he took out a single-burner gas stove. Handy for when there was no fire, the gas burner also provided a quick supply of boiled water. He placed the kettle on the blue flame and spooned hot chocolate into one mug and coffee into the other. Rain continued to drum on the hut roof as the storm showed no signs of abating. He clenched his teeth. It had to blow itself out soon and until it did his self-control had to hold.
Steaming cups in hand, he returned to the fire. Kree had pulled two blocks of wood close to the warmth and now sat on the left one.
‘That smells great,’ she said as she accepted the mug he handed her.
‘I’m not sure how it will taste without milk, but at least it’s hot.’
‘It’ll be fine.’ She watched him sit on the second block of wood. ‘So, the cattle are all right?’
‘Yes. They’re on their way to Travis’s farm. Tomorrow, if the weather clears, he’ll truck them to Marellen.’
‘What about the stock thieves? Where are they now?’
‘Glenalla lock-up with some explaining to do. Not that it’ll do them any good. Travis spotted their truck heading towards the stock route and alerted the local coppers, who arrived to see them unload the UltraBlacks.’
She took a tentative sip of her hot drink. ‘Busted.’
‘So busted.’
She smiled. Ewan put his coffee on the floor before his unsteady hands spilled it. Kree’s drying hair tumbled in soft brown waves around her face and shoulders. Her smiling lips were shiny and moist from her hot drink and would taste sweeter than any chocolate. Even though her hand kept the sleeping bag in place, it now barely skimmed the top of her full breasts.
He came to his feet. ‘I’ll check the horses.’
‘It’s still raining. You’ll get even more soaked.’
But he was already on his way to the door.
A soaking was just what he needed. It was the closest thing he’d get to a cold shower.
Down Outback Roads Page 22