The Cattle Baron's Bride

by Margaret Way

  Your poor bloody father is trying to recover his lost youth!

  Her mother had never run out of that explanation.

  Samantha shut down on her old memories. She was very good at it from long habit.

  "It's a mean old world out there," Ross said. "There are some wounds the soul can never recover from."

  Samantha looked up at the blossoming stars as though seeking answers. One blazed down the sky leaving a trail of white fire. She made a wish. That she would be granted the priceless gift of finding her true love. Her soul mate. "Perhaps if one is patient and lets the anger go instead of holding on to it," she suggested, and surprised herself by taking his arm. She wasn't rejected. He drew her close to his side. "I believe recovery is possible, Ross. In the meantime we have to take comfort where we can. Somehow David is shielding Isabelle from the worst of her sorrow. We can only be grateful for that."

  They were settled comfortably for the night before Isabelle whispered into the semi-darkness. "You're happy about going off on your own with Ross tomorrow?" In the course of talking over the following day's itinerary, between them they had come up with a change of plan that seemed to suit everyone. Isabelle was now to join David's party. Samantha was to go with Ross.

  Samantha levered herself up onto one elbow. Happy? The truth of it was she was ecstatic. "I'd say it's shaping up to be one of the highlights of my life," she whispered back. "You engineered it, didn't you, you designing woman?"

  Isabelle cut her laugh short. The night was so quiet and voices carried. "I have to confess seeing you both together has aroused my matchmaking talents."

  "What? You're not joking?"

  "Oh, Sam, I have eyes. Besides, I know my brother. I know the flash of his eyes. Underneath the formidable exterior he's passionate and emotional."

  "With me, he's mostly an enigma," Samantha sighed, lying back and settling her head into the small pillow. "It's scary being struck by lightning."

  "Is that what it feels like?" Isabelle asked gently.

  "It's a wonder I haven't been hospitalised," Samantha remarked wryly. "I'm way out of my depth here, Isabelle. Your brother is very very suspicious of me."

  "Hang in there," Isabelle advised in a sisterly way. "It's not surprising you know given our history. Our mother bolted. She didn't set a good precedent for the female sex. For what it's worth, there's no one I'd rather see my brother taking such an interest in. It's just that Ross over the years has become accustomed to being the man in control. He's very disciplined. That means he doesn't lose his head over women and he's had a lot literally throw themselves at him. I've seen it with my own eyes. Even when he's been with another girl, they take no notice. Shameless. Ross has seen a lot of failed relationships. So have I. So have you. You suffered similarly when your parents divorced and that must have been very hard. Ross worshipped Dad and Dad had such pride in him. Ross is extremely hostile to our mother for what she did not only to us but mostly what she did to Dad. It's made him very wary because if he weren't he could star in a replay of Dad's life. You know about emotional wreckage. God knows I do. Ross had been programmed to fight becoming enmeshed with a woman who really got under his skin and you pretty much have."

  Samantha turned her head to where Isabelle was lying. "You wouldn't say that if you didn't believe it."

  Isabelle just smiled. "And why not? You have a lot going for you."

  "We both do. You and me. But I can't hide the fact I feel very vulnerable where Ross is concerned."

  "We're all vulnerable," Isabelle reminded her, backing away fromm dangerous ground.

  "He could forget me in a week." Samantha mused, gazing at the big copper moon through the screened window in the side of the tent. There was one opposite allowing cross ventilation.

  "Could you forget him?"

  Samantha was lost for a moment trying to think how she could adjust to a life without Ross Sunderland in it. "Not if a thousand years went past."

  "Well then!" Isabelle smiled in the darkness.

  "So are you happy going with David's party?" Samantha asked, buoyed up by Isabelle's approval.

  "Yes of course." Isabelle tried to convey no more than easy acceptance when each minute in David's company she was reawakening to the richness of life. "Actually I'm not completely responsible for the change of plan. David wants to include me in some of his shots."

  "The human figure in the vast landscape?"

  "Yes. He's wanting shots of you as well."

  "I have to get the text right. That's important and my head is already swimming with ideas." Samantha gave a light yawn, finding the scent of the woodsmoke from the fire intoxicating. "The ones David's taken on the digital camera are great. I can't wait to see the film scanned. I'm going to have my pick of the digitals blown up to whatever size I want in Darwin. By the way, what happened to Matt? He just disappeared."

  "He sat for a while," Isabelle murmured, quite at peace. "Then he announced rather shortly he wanted to crash. I don't think anything is working in the way Matt wanted. He's very tense and he's really feeling the heat."

  "Obviously he doesn't like life stripped down to essentials," Samantha lamented. "Matt's a city person."

  They both knew that wasn't the cause of Matt's ill humour.

  "Belle?" Samantha whispered as Isabelle turned on her side.

  "Yes?"

  "Thank you for everything. You're wise and kind. I'm really glad we met. When it doesn't hurt so much to talk about what has happened to you, I'll be around to listen."

  Tears stung Isabelle's eyes at the touching note in Samantha's voice. She swallowed down a sudden flare of pain. Not a lot of people had been kind to her since Blair. She knew for some bereaved people talking would be a release. But there was no talking about her marriage. The very last thing she wanted was to go back.

  CHAPTER SIX

  STILL smouldering in silent fury over Samantha's lack of trust in him, Matt assumed a nonchalant demeanour, strolling over to where she was down on her haunches re-arranging her pack.

  "Hi, all set?" She looked so beautiful it broke his heart.

  "Just about." She looked up and tried a warm smile. She knew Matt well enough to know he was feigning good humour. He didn't look well. The dark shadows beneath his eyes gave him an exhausted look as if he weren't getting enough sleep. "I hope you get the shots you want today. I can't wait to see them," she added, injecting enthusiasm into her voice.

  "So far so good." He shrugged. "Of course I haven't got Dave's masterly skills. The stuff he's done so far is going to be pretty damned marvellous."

  "You haven't had David's experience," she said kindly. "You're a very good photographer, Matt. You're exceptionally lucky to have Joe along with you. He knows this place like the back of his hand. Incredible to believe his people have lived in this region for more than forty thousand years ago."

  "They can have it," Matt was sufficiently derailed to say.

  Samantha stood up. "You can't mean that? It's marvellous and we've only experienced a little. I can't wait until we get to see the rock art. It's considered to be without parallel in all the world."

  "Yes, yes, I know." Now Matt's irritation was barely disguised. "Whose idea was it for you to go off with Sunderland?"

  Samantha tried to rein her temper in. "I'm tempted to say mine, Matt. Actually Ross was to take Belle and me but David wanted the human element in some of his shots so he invited Belle along. Surely you know?"

  He didn't even attempt an answer. "You two get along well?"

  "Belle and I?"

  "She doesn't strike me as the grieving widow," he said in a bitterly sarcastic voice.

  Tenderhearted Samantha was greatly distressed. "What a rotten thing to say."

  "Is it?" Matt's brown head was poised curiously like a cobra's about to strike. "Word is she drove the poor man to his death."

  "Oh Matt!" Samantha dropped the tin mug in her hand. It hit the ground and rolled away. "That I do not believe. I'd advise you not to listen to cruel
rumours. A woman as beautiful as Isabelle is always the target for vicious gossip. That's the way of the world. Usually it's other women. Not men so much."

  "Okay I'm sorry." Matt dropped his head, pretending shame. "But take a look at her when she's laughing with Dave. I'm convinced she's got him lined up as her next."

  "We need the Davids of this world," Samantha said sharply. "Lucky for you he was around when your life was in the doldrums. Isabelle is suffering. David is trying to ease her pain. I don't know what's got into you, Matt. Your health doesn't seem so good. Since we left Darwin you seem to have lost your sense of well-being."

  "Why not!" he exploded, yearning to show her how much he loved her. He'd fight a duel over her if he had to only that bastard, Sunderland, would win. Sunderland, the natural born leader accepting adulation as his due. "Everything has turned out so differently from what I expected," he said. It made him furious. He hated it. "I'm trying. I'm trying the best I can. What would be really great is if you and I could get to spend a little time together. That would be wonderful, just the two of us."

  Samantha wanted to end this, but was torn by pity. "We share breakfast and dinner, Matt. We get to relax around the camp fire. It's you who doesn't want to join in."

  Matt set his fine white teeth together. "I'm talking about spending a little time alone," he ground out. "You're spending the day with the Great White Hunter. Why not me? No one could enjoy your company better. We've always had a great time when we've been out, haven't we?"

  "Of course we have. We're friends. If you don't see it that way, I've told you, Matt. I can't offer anything more."

  "Because you've fallen for Sunderland," Matt muttered like he had a score to settle.

  "How come you know more than I do, Matt?" Samantha tried to take the heat off Ross. "You know the way it works. Ross is our guide. And he's coming this way. It's about time we all got going."

  Matt's hazel eyes held hers, something desperate in his thin face. "All I want from you is only what you're prepared to offer. I care about you, Sam. Remember that. All I'm asking of you is to come with me while I take a few photographs. I'm far more interested in photographing you than the scenery. Is that so much to ask?"

  "No of course not!" Samantha tried to mollify him.

  "Great!" Matt smacked his fist into his palm, a triumphant look on his face.

  Ross and Samantha drove across flood plains rejuvenated by the tropical storms that had already started. Mostly they occurred in the afternoon, short lived, maybe thirty or forty minutes, but spectacular enough. It was the late night thunderstorms that turned on the most awesome displays of Nature's unmatched power. Once the Wet really got underway, January was the worst month, access to many areas of the park became too dangerous to attempt. As it was these same plains they were travelling over would be inundated and the Park's innumerable water lily covered lagoons and billabongs would become home to the legions of beautiful wading birds that returned from Asia to the lush grasslands.

  Ross pulled over under a magnificently gnarled paperbark, scattering the masses of brilliantly coloured parrots that were resting in the willowy, iridescent branches. Birds and birdsong was everywhere all over the Park. Parrots, cockatoos, lorikeets, galahs, corellas, rosellas, warblers, honeyeaters. There were even plenty of the great flightless bird, the emu.

  He cut the ignition. "Right!" His sparkling gaze swept her, the large velvety eyes, the creamy skin the flushed cheeks. With her beautiful hair bound up in plaits she looked about sixteen and crying out to be kissed. "Our trek starts here. Still up for it?"

  She answered readily. "I'm game if you are, Captain."

  "Yes, well, we haven't started yet."

  "Give me two seconds." She opened out the passenger door and slid to the ground. "Tell me where we're heading. Point it out," she challenged, well and truly on her mettle.

  His amusement was apparent. "See that small range?" he walked around the back of the vehicle to join her.

  She almost reeled. "Gosh, I could hardly miss it." Her eyes travelled to a flat escarpment washed with purple against the smouldering blue sky. "It must be twenty miles away."

  He made a soft jeering sound. "That's a lousy guess. It's closer to five. No more than my daily constitutional. Anyway, you said you wouldn't miss this for the world."

  She looked up at him, heroic figure that he was.

  "Okay let's make a start," she said briskly, easing the straps of her backpack.

  "This is the easy bit," he assured her.

  "It's time I showed you a thing or two!"

  It was all he could do not to seize her and demand she prove it. "I sure am willing to learn."

  "You don't think much of women, do you?" she called over her shoulder, stepping off.

  His mouth twisted in a cynical smile. "Believe me I know how powerful you are. Maybe not in the physical stakes."

  "That's why women last a heck of a lot longer than men." She retaliated.

  "You're not killing me off, Samantha, thank you very much. What was Howarth griping about this time?" He caught her up easily, so they could walk side by side.

  "Aren't you jumping to conclusions?"

  "No," he answered flatly. "You have to tell him he has no chance with you."

  "Why don't you tell him," she challenged. He won't listen to me.

  "He's madly in love with you." He shook his dark head in disgust.

  "There must be worse things in life," she said tartly.

  "Not for your friend, Matt. I could be wrong but he strikes me as a man on the verge of a break-down."

  Samantha let out a long sigh, thinking there was something in what he said. "That's a bit extreme, isn't it?"

  "He has the signs all over him."

  She had taken note of the fevered tension. "I have told Matt I can't offer him more than friendship."

  "Even that's too much," he said rather curtly. "It gives him hope."

  "So what do you want me to say?" She stopped so abruptly she almost slammed into him. "I'm having an affair with you?"

  His eyes gleamed, pure aquamarine. "Well, aren't you?"

  "Give me a break!" she spluttered. "You're arrogant beyond belief."

  That made him smile. "Don't get too steamed up. Save your strength for the trek ahead."

  She stared fixedly through the lace work of trees. Most were tall palms, stands of pandanus, paperbarks, an understorey of blossoming grevilleas, native hibiscus, cassias which produced colourful scented flowers, luminous green mosses, surprisingly delicate ferns, long trailing vines, a lot bearing trumpet like flowers in cerise and purple with bright yellow centres. Not so bad. She could go a mile or two in bush like this. The land was level pegging. "Look why don't we cut this battle of the sexes short. I can do this on my own. At least to the escarpment. I've been bush walking plenty of times. You must have noticed by now how fit I am?"

  They were walking so close together, their hands were almost brushing. "We're not talking a delightful stroll along a State Forest track. You're in the presence of the greatest wilderness on the continent except maybe for tropical Queensland's Cape York. Even David arranged for a guide."

  "You think I'd get lost?" she asked tartly, his superior male attitude doubling her determination.

  "I know you would."

  "This isn't jungle. It's relatively open woodland. All I need to do is follow my nose to the escarpment. God knows it's smack bang in the middle. I'm determined to do this, Ross."

  "What if I don't let you?" He moved with catlike grace to bar her way.

  "Excuse me. I was brought up in a feuding family and survived."

  He glanced around them. "Ah well, if that's the case, I might sit down for a half an hour. Give you a headstart." He eased his lean powerful body onto a large boulder, one of a rocky outcrop, that was so much a feature of the landscape. Its base was framed by emerald spear grasses. "Do you want the rifle?" he asked.

  She gave an involuntary shudder. "What would I do with it? Set my sights on yo
u? I don't even know how to hold it. No, I don't want the rifle. As long as there aren't any crocs trying to waddle up on me, I'll watch where I plant my feet."

  He tilted his Akubra further down over his eyes. "All right then," he said in a relaxed accommodating fashion. "Off you go. If you're feeling disoriented or you run into any trouble just yell like hell. I'll come running."