The Cattle Baron's Bride

by Margaret Way

"I'd prefer if you came driving. At top speed."

  "No can do." He crossed his long outstretched legs at the ankle. "One thing you look the part." His eyes swept her from head to foot. She was wearing good solid walking shoes, cotton shirt and cotton jeans. On her head she wore a big floppy natural straw hat that dangled chiffon folds she could tie around her neck and even over her face in case of an insect attack.

  "Well so long," she said crisply, trying to look like a professional safari Boer. "See you in a couple of hours."

  "Take your time," he responded pleasantly, easing off his backpack as though he had all the time in the world.

  For more than an hour she wandered rather than tramped through the wilderness always keeping the table topped summit of the escarpment in sight. The huge diversity of flora was amazing; the great variety of fruits and nuts and gourds which almost exclusively had made up the aboriginal diet. Up ahead she could see the distinctive ghost gums with their shimmering white trunks. Joe had told her Kakadu had species of eucalypts which had never been found elsewhere. She was longing to get to the wetter areas of the park where gorgeous waterlilies wove a carpet across the dark green waters. That was a classic image of Kakadu, the great sheets of water floating their cargo of huge lily pads and exquisite blooms.

  The ground cover was becoming heavier, the vines sometimes tripping her up. She saw many many birds but no mammals. They had to be asleep in their hollows. The sun wasn't too hot beneath the trees. Richly scented flowers cascaded some thirty feet down a bush giant, scarlet with cream centres. She stopped to take a closer look but didn't touch. The main reason being she didn't know what sap was poisonous and what was not. Legions of lizards scampered through the fallen tunnels of leaves. Looking up she saw, for the first time, colourful bean shaped pods growing down the barks of certain trees. Edible? She wasn't game to find out. One plentiful shrub dangled small fruit not the usual yellow, orange or bright red, but an incredible indigo blue. She wondered what it tasted like. Walking on, she tried to imagine the place when it was teeming rain. Even now it was warm, humid and green. Green smelling. She lifted her head to a branch of a slender tree alerted by a flash of colour.

  A kingfisher with a poor little frog in its mouth. There had to be pools of water nearby. Remnants of the last flood topped up by recent storms. The kingfisher's plumage was glorious. A rich violet, bright orange breast, scarlet beak. A fallen tree probably from a lightning strike blocked her path. She would have to go around it. Now and again she had the sensation Ross Sunderland was watching her, but however swiftly she turned, eyes keen, she saw nothing. Not even a swaying frond to betray his presence. Nevertheless she had no feeling of fear or apprehension. She felt certain he was somewhere close by even if she couldn't see him.

  Of course she regretted her independent stance. They should be walking through this paradise together.

  Dry leaves crackled underfoot as she circled around the decaying trunk that was covered in rich fungi. She was still heading in a straight unimpeded line for the flat topped purple range. This was really the first time in her life she'd been up close and personal with a tropical wilderness. No real predators. No lions and tigers. She hadn't come to the crocs or the wallowing buffalos that did so much damage to the environment. She realised the deadly taipan lived in the Park but hardly anyone saw it. Snakes kept to themselves.

  Blithely she continued her walk, imagining how marvellous it was going to be to go swimming at the end of it. Mineral springs. No crocs.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw a long black shadow detach itself from the cover of the trees.

  She stood dumbstruck too petrified to move. Then, "Get. Get out of here!" She lifted her arm warningly.

  The perentie, the giant goanna, fully eight feet long sheafed in speckled black and yellow chain mail ignored her, holding its frightening stance. She could feel herself shaking as if it were a crocodile. The monitor had such powerful limbs and a strong thrashing tail. Its sharp claws were dug into the track, its purple tongue extended. She knew it could run as fast as a race horse and she knew it could inflict serious wounds if threatened.

  She battled to give voice to a cry, but her throat was closed and dry. Where the hell was Sunderland when she needed him?

  "Get!" she croaked.

  She was wasting time. A split second before the goanna decided to charge Samantha ran, heart pounding. She heaved herself up a tree, fearful the giant lizard would come after her. They climbed trees didn't they? She was mumbling to herself, inching across the branch, adrenalin pumping, hoping to God the limb would hold steady under her weight.

  As she drew a tortured breath there came a sound that was stunning in the silence of the forest. A rifle shot tore into the earth a few paces from where the goanna was raised on its powerful legs, ready for battle. A second shot struck a sunken rock ricocheting away harmlessly.

  Ross was beneath the tree making a furious hand signal to her to stay put.

  As though she was about to disobey!

  The goanna needed no more prompting. Alarmed it took off at high speed, crossing the track inches away from where Sunderland was standing, like a gun dog hell bent on retrieving a fallen bird for its master.

  "You can come down now, Samantha," he called, cool as a cucumber. "Our friend has moved on."

  To joke! How dared he! She was deaf in one ear from those shots. From being frozen with panic Samantha was incandescent with rage.

  "Fall I'll catch you," he suggested, holding out his arms.

  "Will you just." She launched herself through the air as though she wished to attack him only he caught her, whirling her around and around until she gasped, "Stop!" she yelled at him, kicking and lashing at him with her hands, causing them both to topple over.

  She was absolutely livid. She wriggled on top of him, straddling him, straining to hold him down. "You rotten, mean, nasty, arrogant son of a bitch! You just stay where you are." She started to pummel him, her breath sobbing in her chest. "You knew chances were I might run into that monster."

  "Look I'm sorry." He was absorbed in fending her off without hurting her.

  "Sorry's not good enough. I've been waiting to do this for ages, you brute. You were behind me the whole time. I mightn't have been able to see you but I knew you were there."

  "Top marks for having the sense to scale a tree." He caught her flailing wrists. "You did it in excellent time."

  "Ross Sunderland I hate you!" The little gold flecks lit up her eyes.

  "Let's see if you do." His look of amusement was abruptly extinguished. With one deft movement their positions were reversed. He had her pinned to the ground, looking down on her trembling body.

  "Don't you dare touch me," she warned, her senses heightened to the point of pain.

  He controlled her easily with one hand, but the distress in her face made him hold back the loud clamour of his own needs. Her straw hat had long since fallen off and one of her copper braids had come undone. "Now that soft growl would have done justice to a lioness," he scoffed, understanding he had to rein himself in.

  "That was horrible, horrible." She shuddered. "The bloody thing was ten feet long."

  "More like eight," he corrected. "They're harmless to humans unless they're threatened. She might have laid eggs close by. I'm sorry, Samantha. Really sorry. I'll let you up."

  "I'll get up when I'm good and ready," she said perversely, the sensuality within not in keeping with her tart words. She studied the curve of his lips. What a beautiful mouth he had, the edges so clearly defined. She lived in hope he would kiss her the hateful beast.

  "Yes, ma-am." He looked down at her, achingly aroused, but unprepared to force a response from her which he knew he could surely do. The curve of her breasts showed through the neck of her crisp blue cotton shirt. A button had come undone in their tussle, another strained to come loose. She was wearing a bikini top beneath the shirt in a much darker shade of blue. Her flesh looked so soft and creamy it begged to be fondled. He could fee
l the delicate weight of her breast in his hand. What it was to be filled with desire and unable to satisfy it.

  "You've got no right to scare me." Her whole body was vibrant with nerves.

  "Poor baby!" He wondered if the craving was showing in his eyes.

  She saw it and her heart tumbled over inside of her. The unexpected tenderness brought her totally undone. Tears sparkled in her eyes.

  "Don't do that." A muscle twitched just under his skin. His self-control had its limitations. Surely she knew? The magnetism that drew them together could be their downfall. As ever, unhappy memories were sharp and jagged in his mind. Maybe they would be there forever. Love for a woman was wonderful. And treacherous. Who could blame him for being so deeply apprehensive? This beautiful young woman was not only getting under his skin, she was cutting close to his heart. He couldn't seem to do anything to shield himself. She was the only one who had been able to bring the whole protective edifice down. It set off the roar in his ears and his harsh breathing. God, how he wanted her!

  Samantha heard the little puff of violence in his tone; recognised the sexual hostility, that was somehow incredibly erotic.

  "Okay I'll ignore you." Perversely he gave her a glance that was blindingly sensual. "Let's just get to the falls okay? I need to cool off."

  "Let me up. It's the heat. Perspiration in my eyes." Her own fear of defencelessness made her act.

  He stood up instantly, pulling her to her feet. "Maybe this time we can stick together."

  "Great idea." She dusted herself off, fixed her plait and looked around for her straw hat.

  He retrieved it, passing it to her. "Give me your pack."

  "It's okay. I can keep up."

  "Give it to me."

  She surrendered, not all that gracefully. "Whatever you say, Boss Man."

  He slipped his own pack over his shoulders. "I know you call me that."

  "How do you know? I've never breathed a word."

  "I can read your mind," he said crisply. "Have you anything sweet in this pack?" He began to look inside.

  "Some packets of walnuts and raisins," she told him. "Why are you hungry?"

  He made a quick examination of the pack, found the little cartons of dried fruit and nuts. "I'm a little concerned about you."

  "Boy, is that a good feeling," she mocked. "Don't be too nice to me, Ross. It will go to my head."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CLOUDS of beautiful butterflies acted as scouts.

  They were passing through an area thick with shooting grasses, pandanus showing fresh new growth and spiky low growing palms of a light green glowing colour. Yellow purple-fringed lilies and their tall upstanding leaves grew as a ground cover, so exquisite Samantha tried her level best not to step on them. It wasn't easy. The plants grew profusely. Through the light scattering of trees was the fascinating spectacle of free standing sandstone pillars, almost like people, quite different from the wedge shaped clay termite mounds she had already seen decorating the plains.

  Up ahead a small tree was lit up like a beacon with large petalled flowers of a dazzling yellow. She would love to pick one.

  "Listen!" Ross took her arm suddenly.

  "What?" She stood perfectly still, unsure of what she was listening for. Then she heard it. "The song of the falls." She looked up at him with a beautiful smile, her face flushed, her eyes a-sparkle. "What do you call them again?"

  "Ngaru. We're coming to the Ngaru lagoon, hence the birds." He pointed to the sky, as a flight of magpie geese caught the airstream. "We're almost there."

  She sighed blissfully. "I can't wait for a swim. It'll be absolute heaven! " Though she had made no complaint-indeed she had been too enthralled with their Nature trek to think of it-she was happily exhausted. A sweat had broken out all over her, dampening her hair and causing her shirt to stick to her. She was glad now she had a fresh t-shirt rolled up in her pack which he was still carrying like it was a paper bag. He on the other hand looked like the six million dollar man. Indefatigable. Not the slightest trace of weariness. He'd have made a great explorer.

  Ross took the lead as the vegetation rose up in front of them more luxuriously, parting long luminous grasses like reeds for her to tread through. Used to finding the appropriate words, she thought the wild beauty of their trek was beyond her. She had all but forgotten her encounter with Nintaka, the perentie, better known as a goanna, though there were other less fearsome animals along the way. Once a frilled lizard thinking it had to defend itself, its mouth wide open its neck extended in its characteristic striking "umbrella" had nearly frightened the life out of her but she had managed to swallow down a cry. Kangaroos were more friendly. They stood up on their powerful hind legs staring at them with mild curious eyes; a pair of superb looking golden dingoes moved with complete confidence through their wild habitat, totally ignoring them.

  "Plenty of those through the park," Ross told her. "Generally they're pure bred. They hunt alone or maybe two together. You don't see them that often in groups."

  "So what do they feed on?" Samantha, like every other Australian had heard the terrible, tragic story of Lindy Chamberlain's baby being taken by a dingo near Uluru.

  "Small animals," he told her. "Birds, reptiles. Its not our native species we have to worry about, it's introduced species like the buffalo. They roam wild in the Territory particularly in the region of the Adelaide and Alligator rivers where they do great damage."

  "Like what?"

  "They wallow in the billabongs turning them into mud pools. They trample the vegetation. That's only the beginning."

  "How did they come to be here in the first place?"

  He checked a little so she could catch up with him. "They were introduced in the early 1800s from Timor to work the farms. When the settlements died out the bullocks were turned off to run wild. They flourished so much nearing the end of the 1800s they were hunted for their hides and horns. The market didn't decline until the mid '50s. The meat's dreadful by the way."

  "But I thought the buffalo was a symbol of the Territory?"

  He shrugged. "Well they've gone down in our folklore, I suppose, like the introduced camels in the Red Centre, but regardless both are large-scale destroyers of our fragile environment. Buffalo really are bulls in a china shop. Make no mistake. It isn't just the wallowing and trampling. They eat out the protein grasses our native herbivores depend on. Even the birds are affected by their presence. Don't start me on buffalo. As a cattleman I'm all for culling. They spread bovine disease. That alone threatens our beef industry. Feral pigs create similar problems. We have brumbies on North Star but they're a more limited problem."

  "What about man?" she asked quietly. "The mines must have a big effect on the sensitive environment."

  "Whatever I think," he said, "the fact is the mines are there. Ranger, Jabiluka, Jabiru, Koongarra. All we can do is work to minimize the adverse ecological and social impact."

  "You feel very strongly about it."

  "Of course I do. Don't you? This is one of the last remaining great wilderness areas in the world. This is my home."

  "Well you're a very fortunate man." Her breath was a little laboured.

  He stopped quickly and stared down at her. She was fit and she was strong but she was a young woman. "This has been a bit too much for you," he said, carrying on his inspection.

  "Oh, I'm a bit puffed, that's all. I've been loving it."

  His tone combined concern and anger directed against himself. "It's my damned fault," he frowned.

  She struggled to stand perfectly upright, shoulders squared. "Ross, relax. I can puff once in a while, can't I? I'm perfectly all right."

  "Well we're within spitting distance." He grunted and reached up to hold a low branch away from her head.

  "I never knew you were such a fuss pot," she muttered, realising he was genuinely anxious about her.

  "I have to blame you for that," he returned acidly. For answer because she was getting to know his

  wa
ys, she linked her arm companionably through his. "I think you must definitely like me."

  He was faintly smiling. "You have heard the saying, she grew on me?"

  "Well we do have a lot in common, don't you think?"

  "Like what?"

  She smiled at him sweetly, her velvet eyes glowing. "Both of us love a swim. What else?"

  The sound of the waterfall grew louder. Moments later they were converging on a beautiful stretch of water the milky green of an opal.

  Samantha pulled off her straw hat and began to fan herself with the wide brim. "This must be the Garden of Eden," she said with conviction.

  "Not an apple tree in sight." Not that he needed any tempting.

  "I think that biblical apple tree was more likely to have been a fig tree," she mused. "Look, plums, wild plums," she said excitedly, pointing to a clump of dark purple fruit. "Wild pear as well. I've never seen such a beautiful peaceful spot in my whole life."