by Jane Corrie
'I needed exercise,' Holly blazed back at him. 'Your precious stock's not here yet, so I couldn't upset your plans, could I? If you want to know I'm bored to tears. Pete was good enough to offer me something useful to do.' Her voice caught. 'I thought it was pretty kind of him.'
'Kind!' he sneered. 'Where I come from it's called devious, and if you still haven't got the picture look it up in the dictionary !'
'Thank you,' Holly replied icily. 'I do know the definition. Devious or not, I think I'm going to accept.'
'Pity,' he said. I was thinking of getting Munt to bring the stock down some time, but of course if you're over at Bullora, you won't see him. I expect he'll understand, though,' he added offhandedly. 'I'll have a word with Milly now, if you please.'
With set lips, Holly handed the receiver over to Milly, who was watching her with a frown on her face. She did not wait to listen to the conversation; she was in no mood to explain the whys and wherefores to Milly at that particular moment, and made straight for her room.
Once there, she flung off her hat, feeling a distinct urge to jump on it. 'Devious' just about summed up Hayes's casual comments on Hal's reaction to her working for Pete. As for getting Hal to bring the stock down, she didn't believe a word of it! He wouldn't risk it! Holly might persuade him to stay on at Green Paddocks—how, she couldn't imagine, but she was sure Hayes Chester's imagination could conjure up something, and what ever it was, it wouldn't be to her credit!
It wasn't easy, she thought, dealing with two men bent on preserving their pride. Not that it was all pride on Pete's side. He would want to get back at Hayes, and Holly didn't blame him, those were her sentiments too. But Pete had another axe to grind; he really wanted her, which rather complicated things from her point of view. If it weren't for that, she would have loved to join forces with him and cock a snook at Hayes. And there was Hal—Hal was more important than either of them; he had no axe to grind—he just wanted what was best for her. She couldn't do it!
Deep down, Holly had known she would have to refuse the job, as desperate as she was, and preparing for her shower she felt a tiny spurt of relief now that the decision had been made. It had nothing to do with Hayes' remarks either, she told herself, as she walked to the shower room.
Meeting Milly's accusing eyes later at the dinner table, Holly gave a wry smile. 'It's all right, Milly, I'm not taking the job.'
Milly sniffed loudly, partially placated. 'Like I said,' she grumbled, 'you got no sense these days. How you get talking to Pete Mills, huh? Hayes fix him good, he no right on our land.'
Holly shrugged. 'I guess he was looking for me,' she said.
'Then he looking for trouble,' snorted Milly as she dished up a heavenly-smelling beef casserole. 'And that fella sure get it if he starts pestering you,' she added darkly.
'For goodness' sake !' exploded Holly. 'Apart from Hal, who's miles away, he's the only person who realises just how miserable I am!'
Milly stared at her, the spoon she was dishing the vegetables out with was held poised.
'All right !' rushed on Holly, 'you don't like him. Nobody likes him!' she said wildly. 'But he can't be all that bad,' and she hiccoughed as the tears sprang to her eyes. 'Even if he has a motive he saw what nobody else saw—that I need something to do!' She got up swiftly from the table. 'I'm not hungry, Milly. I'm s-sorry,' and she rushed out of the room straight to her bedroom.
As she flung herself on the bed the tears gushed out. She felt the work-roughened hand of Milly smoothing her hair.
'I knows it's not been easy, girl,' she said soothingly. 'Just takes a bit of time, that's all. Come right in the end, just you see. Milly knows what she's talking about. You ain't no Ma Bartar, that's for sure.'
Holly did not answer; the sad fact of the matter was that Milly did not know what she was talking about. Holly was sure she was nursing a scheme of pairing her up with Hayes and the thought only made her more miserable. It just went to show how far off beam she really was.
Pete rang the following day and Holly told him of her decision. He did not seem a bit surprised. 'So he bullied you out of it, did he?' he said sourly. 'Tried it on me last night, but I'm a bit wiser than I was, so it cut no ice. By the way,' he added sarcastically, 'the wedding's fixed for November, in case you'd forgotten when I asked you.' He waited a moment or so for Holly's reaction.
Holly stared at the receiver, beyond speech for a second.
'Do I take it it comes as a bit of a shock?' he inquired softly.
Holly bit her lip. So Hayes was still determined to carry on with that farce, was he? All she had to do was tell the truth. Her fingers gripped the receiver, it was what Pete was waiting for but knew she would be walking into the den without a hope of getting out again, and she didn't much care for the bait laid out by either of the men. At least, as Hayes had pointed out so forcefully, she was in no danger from him. She had answered before she realised. 'N-not really,' she lied. 'He sort of likes things cut and dried, as you might say,' she ended lamely.
'I wish,' Pete said between his teeth, 'I knew what the hell was going on ! Just remember I'm here and it's not too late to back out.' With that he slammed the receiver down and Holly winced as she laid hers down.
She stood for a few minutes in thought. It didn't look as if seeing Dulcie again had altered Hayes' views on marriage. Somehow the thought pleased her, and she didn't understand why. Perhaps it was because she had been proved right about him and his intention to use Green Paddocks as a refuge from future involvements!
Shortly after the call, Holly went to collect a picnic lunch. Milly gave her a suspicious look. 'You keep out of that fella's way,' she ordered.
Holly nodded absently. No need to ask which 'fella'. She was wondering whether to warn Milly that she might be a little late back and decided against it. She would be bound to start asking questions, and apart from the fact that Holly did no want to disclose her destination, she couldn't give the answers until she had asked a few herself.
It was a chance remark of Milly's that had prompted Holly to make the trip to a small turkey farm about twenty miles to the east of Green Paddocks. Setting Silky into a sedate trot, Holly realised Ma Bartar might almost be called a neighbour, only she didn't happen to be a very neighbourly person, if half the tales Milly had told her in her youth were to be believed.
It was not until a few years ago that Holly had found out that Ma Bartar actually existed; she had always thought she was a figment of Milly's imagination, as one might conjure up a bogeyman to come and scare the living daylights out of small children who misbehaved. Not that Ma Bartar had quite that reputation, but as far back as Holly could remember, each time there had been an altercation between Milly and an extremely rebellious small Holly over the matter of discarding her beloved jeans and shirt for a dress to attend some party given by a neighbouring rancher, Ma Bartar's name was brought into the argument.
Holly smiled to herself as she recalled some of them. 'You want to grow up like Ma Bartar, huh? All right, why should Milly care? No one likes Ma Bartar, she so hornery folk keep away. Got no friends, nohow. You want to be like that, huh?' And on another occasion that came to mind, the time she had worn that dress, the one Milly had so sentimentally saved—her first party dress when she had attended a barn dance given on that occasion by her father, and a rash youth, carried away by half a glass of home-made cider, had attempted to kiss her. A very indignant Holly rewarded his efforts by throwing the contents of her lemonade glass at him and declared afterwards to Milly that all boys were 'soppy' and barn dances even 'soppier'.
On that occasion Milly's remarks had been directed at Ma Bartar again. 'So now you a man-hater, huh? Jus' like Ma Bartar.' Holly remembered hotly replying that she was not a man-hater. 'In fact,' she had told Milly airily, 'I'm going to marry Hal one day, you'll see.'
Holly's lips twisted at this memory; she very nearly had! Her smile widened as she recalled Milly's cool answer to this bald statement. 'That's as maybe,' she had said. 'Fi
rst you gotta look like a young lady, Hal ain't marrying no one looking like Ma Bartar, that's for sure.'
Poor Ma Bartar, thought Holly, she was probably just a bit of a recluse; perhaps had some disappointment in her youth and had preferred her own company after that. It was amazing how these tales got about. She didn't think it had been kind of Milly to capitalise on it. Even though, she grinned again, she had probably been a very awkward child, not to mention a holy terror!
Some time later, Holly began to wonder whether she was on the right track. There had been no signs pointing the way and surely if it was a turkey farm, folk would visit for business reasons if not social ones. She was thinking of turning off at the next track, certain that she was on the wrong one, when she came to the boundary fence of the farm. Now there were signs, and not very welcoming ones either. 'Keep out' was the most frequent one. The further Holly advanced the more intimidating the notices. Passing one that stated: 'Picnickers warned. Shotgun on premises.' Holly's eyebrows raised. It didn't look quite right, but she was beginning to feel a little apprehensive about the whole thing and had a nasty feeling Milly's comments on the said lady were based on fact, not fantasy.
When she arrived at the entrance, another notice confronted her. 'No two-legged male critters allowed past this point. State your business and leave note in box on fence. THIS MEANS YOU!'
Holly swallowed. Did it mean her? She squared her shoulders. It said 'male critters', didn't it? She swung the gate open and shut it firmly behind Silky as she led her through. She did rather wish she looked a little more feminine, and recalled Milly once saying she would rather point a gun at a man than talk to him. Holly knew she might easily be taken for a young boy and hoped Ma Bartar had nothing on the younger generation.
A few yards further down the track she was halted by a gruff voice. 'That's fer enough !' Holly started and reined Silky, then looked back to where the voice had come from. She didn't know what she expected to see, but the woman facing her looked amazingly like the species she so hated. Her tanned, weathered skin was burnt black by exposure to the sun. She wore shirt and trousers, and a red kerchief was knotted round her wrinkled neck as protection from the heat. Why, thought Holly, she dressed as any stockman might, even her hat resembled many she had seen worn on the ranch, slightly out of shape owing to constant wear in the rainy season. Holly's incredulous eyes slid down from her face to her arms and down to the rifle held steadily pointed at her.
'Well?' demanded the woman. 'What's your business? I ain't buying nothing, so you can be on your way if that's your bent.'
Holly nervously kept her eyes on the gun. 'I wondered if you wanted any help,' she managed to get out, and relaxed slightly as the gun was lowered.
'Well, maybe I does, and maybe I don't,' replied the woman. 'Depends like. Kinda young, ain't you, to be out looking for work?' she demanded, and moved closer.
Now that she was nearer, Holly could see her eyes. Brown nuts, she thought, then corrected herself; more like the creatures that stored them— squirrels. 'I'm twenty,' she said, thinking it was rude of the woman to stare at her like that.
'Huh !' the woman muttered. 'Well, I guess no harm done in chewing it over. Get that horse of yours tied up.' She stared at Silky. 'Mighty fancy piece of horseflesh there. Yours?' she asked abruptly.
Holly was beginning to wish she hadn't come. 'Yes,' she said stiffly.
'Homestead's just round the corner,' barked the woman, and strode off.
It was all Holly could do to keep going down the track. She would far rather have turned Silky and made for the exit, but she did need a job and it did look a possibility. Ma Bartar was not likely to waste time on her otherwise.
As she was about to tether Silky to a post a few yards from what she presumed to be the homestead, the gruff voice spoke again. 'Trough over there.'
Holly murmured her thanks and led Silky over to it. It had been a dusty ride and she was grateful for the thoughtfulness. Ma Bartar was not all prickles, apparently.
Following her into the homestead a little while later Holly was apprehensive about what she would find. The homestead as such was really an enlarged wooden hut, not unlike the men's quarters at Green Paddocks. Wooden planking served as a rough verandah, and for the first time Holly realised it couldn't be easy for a woman living on her own. She almost sighed, but it was what Ma Bartar wanted, apparently.
The interior pleasantly surprised her. It was quite homely. The furniture, what there was of it, was home-made, but well made and great care had been lavished on it. The dull red wood gleamed with countless polishings. There was nothing fancy about the furnishings, everything there would serve a purpose, Holly thought.
'Was going to have a brew up,' Ma Bartar said gruffly to Holly. 'Might as well do it now as later,' and she disappeared into a sectioned-off part of the large room.
Holly felt another spurt of surprise at the offer of tea and wondered what Milly would think if she could see her now. She also wondered how to address her strange companion. She couldn't very well address her as 'Ma', it would be rude. Was it Miss Bartar? Good gracious, supposing it wasn't her name at all, but a nickname given her! Holly bit her lip. She might well land up with having that gun pointed at her again!
Carrying a tin tray on which sat a teapot, and a jug of hot water, plus a dainty patterned milk jug and matching cups, Ma Bartar gestured by an abrupt nod of the head that Holly should sit down Her hat was now removed, and Holly saw that her hair was almost white and cropped close to her scalp. She had also removed the red kerchief and her shirt was now buttoned up to the neck. In some indefinable way, Holly felt she had been honoured.
'So you want a job, do you? Where are you from?' Ma Bartar barked out at Holly as she handed her the tea.
Thanking her for the tea, Holly wished she would let her answer one question at a time. 'Green Paddocks,' she answered. 'I'm Holly Drew,' she added, thinking it would not mean anything to Ma Bartar, but she was wrong.
'James Drew's daughter, are you?' the woman answered, and swallowed some of her tea. 'Heard he'd gone,' she commented baldly. 'Guess you miss him, eh?'
Holly nodded dumbly.
'Well, we all got to go sooner or later,' Ma Bartar mused, then shot Holly a quick look. 'Sold up, have you?'
'More or less,' replied Holly, which wasn't quite true but not a lie either.
'Hmm. And you want a living-in job, I take it?'
Holly hesitated. If she used the car she could still stay at Green Paddocks; she ought to be able to get back for dinner at eight. 'It needn't,' she said carefully, 'be a living-in situation, you see I could still stay at home, and travel in each day—er—if that would be convenient?'
She received another of those bright looks. 'Not sold up, then? Still hoping to keep the place going, are you? Mind you, admire your spirit, but from what I heard tell it's a big spread. Ain't going to earn enough working for me. A backer's what you want.' Ma Bartar got up and walked over towards the tray and held her wrinkled hand out for Holly's cup. Holly shook her head; she had not finished. Watching the woman pour herself a refill, Holly came to a decision.
'You see, Miss ... I'm sorry,' she apologised, 'but I don't know what...'
'Call me Ma,' was the abrupt answer. 'Everyone else does. At least,' she added darkly, 'them's I talk to,'
'Well—er—Ma,' began Holly tentatively, then as she explained the position all reserve vanished. Soon she was telling her about Hayes and trying to be fair about it. He had, after all, made a going concern of the ranch. 'But you see,' she ended, 'I've absolutely nothing to do, and I'm used to helping around the ranch. There just isn't anything for me any more, and I've got to do something.'
'Marry him,' Ma Bartar advised her dryly.
Holly gasped. She had not said one word about any romantic attachment, or indeed about Pete and the ruse Hayes had used in removing him from Green Paddocks. 'How do you know he isn't sixty-five and married with six children?' she countered curiously.
Ma Bartar's
face creased into what Holly thought must be a smile. 'Cause you so het up about him,' she replied. 'Don't take much working out at that. A fella with six kids wouldn't have much room left, would he? And I kinda think he'd like the homestead for his family. Couldn't see you fitting in under those circumstances. Wives are kinda funny about that sort of thing.'
Holly frowned. 'All right, so he's a bachelor. But marriage is quite definitely out.' Her lips set. 'I'm not the marrying kind, anyway. I'm more at home on a horse chasing strays.'
'My, my !' commented Ma Bartar. 'Can I see myself in you! Just the same at your age. Only I'd more cause.' She frowned. 'I was a fool,' she said abruptly. 'Could have had a good man and kids, but look what I chose.'
She stared round at the sparsely furnished room. 'Oh, I got some money stashed away, pay for my funeral okay, but precious little else. Thought I knew it all, you see,' she said harshly. 'Saw my mum go through life shackled to a brute of a man.' Her lips thinned. 'I never called him Dad, and never will.' She sighed. 'But they're not all bad, you know.' She Hung Holly a quick look. 'And I don't want this repeated, mind. Guess I'm only telling you cause I don't want you to make the same mistake. I know what everybody says. Thing was, when I turned Ted down, that's the fella I was telling you about, I wasn't interested in anybody else. If I'd have married anyone it would have been him. The way I look at it, the right fella only comes along once in a lifetime, and if you're too hornery to take him—well, that's that.'
There was a faraway look in her eyes as she stared at the matted carpet on the floor and Holly knew she had gone back to the past. 'Always lighting,' she said abruptly. 'You saying that about that fella reminded me.' Her voice softened. 'Climbed down from his high horse and asked me to marry him.' She was silent for a moment or so, then said abruptly, 'And I flung his proposal back in his face.' She got up slowly to collect the tray, and Holly noticed a stillness in her movements. 'Here,' she said quickly, 'let me.'
Ma Bartar stared at her in surprise, then gave an expressive shrug. 'Need the exercise,' she muttered, and hung on to the tray. 'Sat a mite too long. Bones get stiff.'