Rimmer's Way

by Jane Corrie

  Della was still recovering from Cal's earlier advice of giving his home help a wide berth, and had to think a minute before she answered hesitantly, 'Yes; I took lessons years ago when Uncle Denny first asked me to join him.'

  The answer seemed to relieve him, as if he had just realised the fact that now she was to be installed in Rimmer's Way, he wasn't quite sure what he was going to do with her!

  'Good!' he said with much feeling. 'I'll find you a suitable mount. Cora will take over from there.' And as if the whole problem had been solved for him, he relapsed-into a contented silence for the remainder of the journey.

  Della's first view of Rimmer's Way was an impressive one. After skirting miles of white fencing they came upon the homestead precincts and passed paddock after paddock of lush green until suddenly the homestead itself loomed up before them.

  It was large and sprawling, yet dignified, she thought, as she gazed at the white stucco-type building. She didn't know quite what she had been expecting to see, but had had some idea of a great old house set amongst lawns, something akin to a manor house in England. The lawns were there sure enough, and glorious flowering shrubs, but as for the old house—Della felt just a little disappointed. The homestead looked modern, at least modern to her way of thinking, but then she thought of the ranch-type houses springing up in the country settings at home, and conceded that perhaps this type of building was not so new to this country, and they must have got the name of 'ranch-type' from somewhere.

  She could certainly see what Cal had meant when he said there was plenty of room, for even without the addition of the new wing he had told her about, there was ample accommodation.

  Cal swung the big car round to the back of the homestead and brought it to a halt outside a side entrance. Getting out, Della gazed about her. Close up to the outer wall of the homestead was a vegetable garden, on which sprinklers were being used. She saw healthy lettuces ready to be picked, and would have loved to wander through the garden to the fruit trees she could see in the distance, but Cal's, 'Luis, come and meet Della,' terminated the wish.

  With a certain amount of wariness in her eyes she watched the slim wiry man walking towards her and held out her hand for the introduction.

  As he took it, Luis's dark sombre eyes gave her a swift scrutiny and Della wondered what conclusion he had come to about her, and was a little gratified by the sudden lightening of expression and a quick smile as he said, 'You'll be okay.'

  Della wasn't quite sure what to make of this extraordinary remark, but Cal was, and it was obvious he was pleased as he said lightly, 'Luis will help you get settled in. I've a few things to see to before dinner, so if you'll excuse me ' he started to leave, then turned back to them. 'Any calls from Malville about those steers I bought?' he asked Luis.

  Luis nodded. 'Should get here day after tomorrow,' he replied.

  Giving a satisfied nod, Cal disappeared into the homestead.

  Picking up two of Della's cases, Luis shouted for someone called David, and within a short time a youth appeared from the further side of the homestead.

  'Give a hand with these,' ordered Luis, and as Della started to pick up the smaller of the cases, he held up an imperative hand. 'We can manage, miss, you just follow me.'

  Della felt a little bit conscience-stricken as she watched the young boy struggle with the larger of her cases, and incidentally the heaviest, and she badly wanted to lend a hand, but something told her the boy would not appreciate such help. Eventually he managed to gain a good grip on it, swung it nonchalantly across his shoulders and made his way towards the homestead with Della bringing up the rear.

  Luis led the procession through the main hallway and out towards the added wing. Della had an impression of airiness and comfort, if not exactly plushy quarters. The furniture gleamed, and what she could see of it was good, if slightly old-fashioned.

  Her eyes alighted on the boy in front of her and she wondered a little about him. He was too young to be a working hand—at least, she thought he was. He was tall but gangly, and she put his age somewhere around the fourteen mark. Although tanned like the rest of the men Della had met since her 'arrival in this part of the world, he had an air of somehow not belonging.

  How she knew this, Della couldn't have explained, but she did know it, and in some vague way felt that she had a rapport with him, in spite of his almost truculent manner towards her as she had watched his tussle with the case. It was as if he were saying, 'I'm doing this because Luis asked me to, not for you. I'm not your servant.'

  Putting the case down on the bedroom floor, he made a hasty exit, his blue eyes barely glancing at Della as he passed her.

  Luis carefully placed the case by the side of the others, and stared round the room as if daring one speck of dust to present itself.

  Della looked too; it was a large airy room with

  venetian blinds taking the place of curtains. On the well-polished wood floor lay two medium sized bamboo-woven mats. The single bed was adorned with a bright Aztec-patterned bedspread, which Della surmised would give ample warmth during what she had been told could be very cold nights. The furniture was much the same as she had caught a glimpse of as she had walked through the house— good but Spartan, built strictly for use, not for ornamentation. No dressing table or any such feminine frippery here, for this was a bachelor's domain.

  She wondered whether she ought to compliment Luis on the obvious cleanliness of the room, but was not quite sure about this, remembering what Cal had said earlier about Luis being touchy. However, she had to say something. 'It's very nice,' she said shyly. 'I'm sure I shall be very comfortable.'

  This appeared to be in order as he gave a 'Hmph!' and said gruffly, 'If there's anything else you want, just give a shout.'

  He left then, and Della started to unpack.

  Making a short tour of her domain a little later, she was thrilled to find she had her own shower and small sitting-room. It was just like a compact flat, she thought, and wondered why it had been built in the first place. Had Cal envisaged his marriage in the not too distant future? If her uncle had still been alive it might have served to give Cal and his bride a little privacy. She shrugged. No doubt all would be revealed in time.

  After a shower, she changed into jeans and blouse, and wandered back into the main section of the homestead wondering if there would be any objection to her exploring the garden area, but she met Cal just coming through the side door.

  He too had changed, and now wore his normal-working clothes. Della had a definite impression of slight disapproval at her appearance, though it was quickly masked as he asked smoothly, 'Were you looking for me?'

  Della made a mental note to avoid this section of the homestead in future. She had her own exit to the back of the homestead, and had only come this way to seek permission to wander through the grounds, not, as his manner suggested, make a nuisance of herself or pry into his section of the homestead.

  Although indignant, she knew a pang of dismay at being treated as an outsider. Her Uncle Denny wouldn't have treated her so; at this thought she had to bite her lower lip hard not to give way to the tears that threatened to spill over. She blinked hastily and managed to say with as much nonchalance as she could muster, 'No, I wasn't, actually. I just wanted to ask if it was okay for me to wander round outside.'

  He seemed to give this some thought and then drawled, 'Sure, but don't go too far, though. Luis will be serving up dinner shortly, and you won't want to get into his bad books by turning up late.'

  Again Della was made to feel an outsider. In other words, they were only putting up with her as they had no other alternative, but she had to behave herself. She swallowed; she would dearly have loved to have told him she was not hungry and would not be present at the meal anyway, but she knew how childish this would sound, although basically it was true. She had no appetite, and she had a nasty feeling events were catching up with her, for she felt positively weepy. 'Do you think I could have my meal in my quarters?'
she asked hesitantly, adding quickly as she saw the quick frown of displeasure this request produced, 'I'll fetch it myself, of course. I don't want to put Luis to any further bother on my account.'

  'Certainly not ! ' Cal rapped back at her. 'You are now residing at Rimmer's Way, and I hope will gradually settle down here. Shutting yourself in your rooms will hardly help you to acclimatise to our way of life. Dinner will be at six sharp.'

  With that blunt directive he turned on his heel and left her almost lost for words.

  It was nice to know, she thought bleakly, that the hope that she would settle down was indeed there, but was it? She wished she really knew. There was, she told herself as she left the homestead and headed for the vegetable garden, one little thing she had perhaps overlooked; Cal's curtness could be a form of embarrassment. When all was said and done, he had married her. Although it was only a token gesture, it was quite possible he was having a few qualms over the idea that she might not prove to be so malleable as he had hoped.

  Lost in her thoughts, Della only just escaped landing in Luis's bad books. As it was, she had to do a quick dash into her quarters and shower in double quick time. Not sure what to wear, she slipped on a light cotton printed dress, and tidying her hair as she hurried out of her room, she made her way towards where she hoped the dining room would be.

  Luis met her in one of the corridors, and pointed to a door at the end. As she went into the room, Della was glad she had the excuse of not knowing where the dining room was, and felt quite justified in being just a tiny bit late.

  'So you did get lost,' Cal said, with just a hint of impatience in his voice.

  A high-pitched giggle came from Cora Waites, sitting at the long table beside him, her light brown eyes holding a malicious glint in them.

  Della's brows rose. 'I might not have been quite so late,' she retorted, fully on her dignity, 'had someone told me exactly where the dining room was.'

  It wasn't much of an excuse, she knew, but it did serve to silence Cora's amusement.

  'I rather thought you took a good look round earlier,' commented Cal with slightly narrowed

  eyes, and Della was certain the comment was meant as a rebuke for her flimsy excuse..

  Sitting down opposite Cora, she said quietly, 'No; I'd just come from my quarters when I met you this afternoon.'

  So he had thought she had been snooping around! Della was pleased to have that straight at least. She glanced up at him and was a little taken back by the thunderous expression on his face—almost, she thought bewilderedly, as if she'd made some dreadful faux pas, but he said nothing, and Luis' entry with a loaded tray ended the conversation.

  As Luis served Della the delicious-looking lamb cutlets, she observed that he wore a white jacket, and wondered whether he always did so, or was making an occasion of the meal because ... She glanced down at the table quickly, hoping to hide the tell-tale flush that had risen when she realised where her thoughts were leading her.

  'Mint sauce?' queried Cal, a trifle sardonically, and Della was forced to look up to meet his equally sardonic eyes, and she had a horrible feeling he was aware of her earlier discomfort.

  Della, accepting the sauce, and murmuring her thanks, passed the gravy boat over to Cora, who seemed to be saying very little, but missing nothing. Della's eyes took in her dark green velvet trouser suit, which fitted her Venus-like proportions like a second skin. Her white blouse was frothed at the

  neck with delicate lace, making Della's simple dress look home-made.

  Going by her clothes, it appeared Cora's family were as affluent as their neighbour, and Della wondered why she had attended the dinner on her own. It was not very neighbourly of her parents not to attend, for that was one thing Della had learnt about ranchers from her uncle—they were all very neighbourly; it came, he had said, from being isolated. It was necessary to be on good terms with your nearest neighbour, as each had to rely on one another in times of crisis, which in their part of the world was more of a certainty than a presumption.

  'Cal tells me you ride,' Cora remarked suddenly. 'I'll take you round the ranch tomorrow, if you like,' she offered offhandedly.

  Although Della felt the offer was made more to please Cal than to be of any company to herself, she accepted gladly. She had been wondering how she was going to fill in her time as it was now obvious that Cal expected her to amuse herself.

  After the meal, and as soon as it was decently possible, Della excused herself, saying she had letters to write, which was not strictly true, although she had promised to keep in touch with an old school friend of hers, but it served as a good enough excuse to remove herself from the room without giving offence.

  Not that Cal would be offended; she was sure her removal from the scene would be met by a certain amount of relief on his part, not to mention Cora's feelings on the matter.

  Reaching her quarters, she reluctantly set about finding her writing case. She was in no mood for writing long epistles on her experiences to date— she sighed, Joyce would never believe her! She was finding it hard herself to come to terms with the fact that she had married her uncle's partner simply because she had inherited half of his property.

  Pen in hand, she sat back and tried to compose a suitable, if not plausible, explanation as to why she had married Cal Tarn. But after three abortive attempts she gave it best. It was hopeless! Joyce would have to be content with a few hastily scribbled lines to say she had arrived safely, and would write her in due course—in precisely one year's time! Della thought wryly.

  When the letter was written, she felt unable to relax, and her thoughts went back to what had been for her an uncomfortable meal with Cal and Cora. Cal had not said much during the meal, only answering Cora's animated questions when absolutely, necessary, and Della found herself perplexed over their precise relationship.

  Like Cal, Della had not said much, either, but she had watched points, and Cal had not acted as though he were in love with Cora—although, she frowned, under the circumstances he would have to keep his emotions in check. One thing had been pretty obvious; he was indulgent with her where

  others might have been slightly exasperated, Della for one, for Cora had certainly asked some exasperating questions, just to gain and hold his attention.

  Della's frown deepened; perhaps for a man like him, indulgence was a kind of loving. Cal Tarn was not a man to show his feelings, not even where the affairs of the heart were concerned. So he did love Cora. Della didn't know whether to be dismayed or relieved at having arrived at this conclusion.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DELLA was still working out the implications of her recent conclusions when the subject of her ruminations walked into her sitting-room uninvited, and certainly unannounced.

  Gazing round the room, Cora flung herself into a chair and sat moodily staring at the white sheepskin rug, the only concession to gracious living that Della had so far seen in the house, but it was plain the girl's thoughts were not on such mundane objects, and Della had an uncomfortable feeling that Cora had not sought her out to discuss the proposed tour of the ranch the next day.

  Her first words took Della by surprise. 'He doesn't love you.' Cora's eyes met Della's wide ones, with a hint of wildness in hers. 'And he never will,' she added viciously.

  'Of course he doesn't,' replied Della mildly, still reeling from this unexpected and unprovoked attack.

  'Just as long as you know,' Cora continued, as if Della hadn't spoken, then she added bitterly, 'I almost feel sorry for you.'

  She didn't sound sorry, thought Della, a little mystified at Cora's vehemence. To be quite honest,it was Della who felt sorry for Cora. It couldn't have been easy for her having to stand aside while the man she loved married someone else. Even though it wasn't a real marriage in that sense, it would still hurt, and property or no property, in Della's view, Cora should have come first.

  All too well did Della know the unhappiness Cora must be going through—hadn't she been through it herself? Although i
n her case there had been no reprieve, and as unhappy as she was, surely Cora knew it was only a question of time? Or was she afraid Della would assert her rights and make a real marriage out of it?

  The very thought was enough to bring the heat rushing into her cheeks—as if such a happening was remotely possible with a man like Cal Tarn! If anyone did any asserting it would be him, and that was an even remoter eventuality!

  With these thoughts in mind, Della hastened to reassure the half belligerent though plainly miserable Cora. 'It mightn't even be for a year, Cora,' she said gently. 'It all depends on how soon Cal can buy me out.'

  Cora stared at her for a full second or so as if she hadn't heard or hadn't understood what Della had said, then she burst into a high-pitched laugh, only it held no humour in it. 'Is that what he told you?' she demanded.

  Della blinked, then rallied quickly. 'It's the truth, Cora. You've nothing to fear from me. Cal just

  wants time to get things straight. I told him he didn't have to marry me, but he seemed to think it was necessary.'

  Another high-pitched laugh greeted this statement, and Cora got hastily to her feet as if she had to do something positive, and walked over to the window and stood gazing out. After a while she said slowly, 'You really are green, aren't you?' She looked back at the astonished Della and nodded slowly. 'Why do you think he married you?'

  `I've told you, because ...'

  'Oh, don't give me that again,' broke in Cora furiously. 'Is that how they go on in England? Marry complete strangers, I mean?' she asked bitingly.

  Della flushed as she realised what Cora was getting at. `No, they do not! ' she answered indignantly. 'And neither would I, if I hadn't been more or less bludgeoned into it!'

  Watching her closely, Cora said softly, 'Oh, yes, you would. If that's what Cal wanted. It would have happened just as it did no matter what you wanted; it wouldn't have made any difference. If he had had to court you first, then he would have done so. It would have taken a bit longer, of course, but it would have come to the same conclusion. You being so agreeable made it easy for him.'