Bella's Run

by Margareta Osborn

  Bella was speechless.

  ‘Will O’Hara needs a real woman in his bed. Someone from the mountains to help him run that big high-country station of his . . .’

  A real woman? Someone from the mountains? Bella tried not to smirk. Prowsy worked for her father, a fucking real estate agent in Burrindal.

  ‘. . . not some scummy, good-for-nothing dairy-farmer’s daughter – a wannabe cattleman.’

  Her father Frank, scummy? Good-for-nothing? A red haze descended in front of Bella’s eyes. Prowsy could throw all the shit she liked at her and Patty, but Bella would not let her besmirch the name of a wonderful man like her father.

  Acting rather than thinking, Bella slammed her fist into Prudence’s face.

  Prowsy went down.

  Bella watched the woman in front of her topple and slide into the dirt at her feet. She looked down, horrified at what she’d done.

  She was in trouble.

  A voice assailed her from the food tent up ahead.

  ‘Shit, Bella, what have you done now?’ Patty walked over. ‘For crap’s sake, is Prowsy all right?’

  Prudence was gasping and rubbing her mouth. ‘You bitch,’ she spluttered, spitting blood from where her front teeth had bitten into her lips. ‘You fucking bitch!’

  The look of pure hatred coming from her nemesis abruptly reminded Bella of what Prowsy had said to provoke such a response. ‘I know who the bitch is and it’s certainly not me. Shelve it, Prue. You got what you deserved and you know it,’ she said before she spun around and walked off, shaking.

  Looking back over her shoulder, Bella saw Patty putting out a hand to help Prowsy to her feet. Spurning it, Prudence staggered upright on her own, still wiping blood from her lips.

  ‘I’ll get you,’ she yelled at Bella. ‘This isn’t the end of it, Vermaelon!’ Spinning on her tooled cowgirl boots, Prowsy staggered off.

  Bella flipped her the bird, then shuddered. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head, ‘a goose walking over your grave, my darling, that’s all’.

  ‘She’s a first-class bitch, that’s for sure,’ said Patty, as Bella filled her in on the conversation that led to the altercation. ‘Low country scum, my arse. Your father’s one of the most respected men in the district! And besides, you’ve spent half your life up in the mountains at Maggie’s. What’s she bloody talking about?’

  Bella didn’t have an answer; she was still shocked by Prowsy’s attack and her own response. Where the hell had that punch come from? She’d never punched anyone like that in her life. What was it with that bloody girl? What was it with her feelings for Will that made everything seem so much more important? Why did she feel things so strongly all of the sudden when up until now life had been all fluff and fun?

  Will slid in beside her and handed over two sandwiches. ‘Here you go, cowgirl. Sink your teeth into this. Where’s Prue? I got her a couple too.’

  ‘Well, since she’s not here, we’ll take them,’ said Macca, holding out his big paws as he joined the circle. ‘All this extracurricular activity . . .’ he waggled his eyebrows at Patty ‘. . . has made me downright starving.’

  ‘I’d highly recommend the egg-and-bacon sandwiches to you all.’ A new voice, spitting plums, joined them. Trinity Eggleton walked up beside Bella and Will. ‘Oh! You’re already onto it.’ He then turned to Bella. ‘And you would be the ravishing young lady Will was warning me off last night, I’d say? Trinity Eggleton, at your service.’ Trin blushed, looking at Will. ‘Well, actually not at your service, because . . . but anyway . . . um . . . it’s nice to meet you.’ Trin bumbled to a stop and stuck out his hand.

  Bella looked up and smiled, choosing to ignore his embarrassment. ‘And it’s nice to meet you too.’ She returned the shake and silently marvelled at the feel of his smooth, cool hand, so different to the rough, calloused ones that had lovingly handled her last night. And this morning. Bella couldn’t stop the grin sliding onto her face.

  ‘Bella! Patty?’ Caro rushed up beside her friend, long blonde hair flying around her face. ‘What happened to Prowsy? She’s in the first-aid tent, swearing vengeance and death on you both and everyone associated with you.’ Bella shot a look towards Will, who had an eyebrow quirked in question. She shrugged, feigning ignorance and turned back to Caro.

  ‘Man, is she wild! She’s going to pack up her camp and head home, before the whip-cracking championships and the Stockman’s Challenge . . .’ Caro’s voice died as she realised there was a stranger in the midst of the group.

  Will shoved a dumbstruck Trin none too gently in the ribs. ‘Caro, meet Trin – Trinity Eggleton. He’s Wes Ogilvie’s grandson. Trin, this is Caro – Caroline Handley. Was she the one you mentioned last night?’

  ‘Mmm . . .’ Trin’s eyes were glazing.

  ‘You’re going to have to do better than that, mate,’ said Macca, with a smirk.

  Meanwhile Caro, completely ignoring Macca, had moved around and wiggled her way in between Bella and the still-dumb Trin. ‘How are you?’ said Caro as she took a closer look at the new talent.

  ‘I’m well . . . thank you . . . and . . . you?’ Trin spluttered.

  Looking fresher and brighter than anyone who had been so drunk the previous night had a right to look, Caro launched into a conversation intent on finding out exactly who, what and how much potential Mr Trinity Eggleton had.

  The Nunkeri Muster’s Ladies Whip-Cracking Competition came down to a battle between Bella and Patty. Not surprisingly, with her new whips and Harry Bailey’s tutorage, Patty beat Bella to the honour of being the champion – again.

  The weekend’s finale had been the race they were all supposed to be there for, the Stockman’s Challenge; the race that tested the skills and endurance of the best horsemen in the district. The winner, however, was a bloke from New South Wales. He’d heard about the weekend on the radio too and had trucked down his horse and dogs to do battle with the riders in the mountains to the south.

  Bella said goodbye to Will on the Monday morning; he had to head back to Tindarra, but not before promising to phone, and their next meeting arranged for the Burrindal B&S Ball. Long, lingering kisses went on and on at the ute’s passenger-side door, until Patty had threatened to leave Bella behind on the swiftly emptying Nunkeri Plains.

  Bella wouldn’t have minded. In fact, nights curled up with Will in the rustic cattlemen’s hut would have been her idea of heaven. And the passion of Will’s farewell assured her that he agreed.

  Chapter 19

  ‘That’s number one-twenty-seven, with one to go.’ Bella notched another stroke in her little Elders notebook as Patty swung the ute into the gateway of Merinda and over the cattle grid. ‘That’s a bloody lot of cattle grids between Ainsley Station and home.’

  ‘Home for you, mate, not me. I’ll have another couple to add to the tally.’ Patty sighed. ‘Feels good, though, doesn’t it? Seems like we’ve been away for years.’

  Bella stretched her arms above her head and yawned. ‘Yep, twelve months away is long enough for this little black duck.’

  The track wound on, through towering plane trees, leading to the homestead built by Bella’s great-grandfather Alfred and his wife Adeline.

  Sitting upright, Bella whooped as she spotted her mother Francine appear from the side door of the grandiose old homestead which lay sprawled in the sun. ‘There’s Mum!’ Bella started bouncing on the seat, willing the track to end and to have her mother’s arms around her. ‘She must’ve been watching for us.’

  ‘No kidding, Sherlock. She’s probably been camped at that side door for the last two hours.’ Patty shook her head at her friend.

  The ute rode over the last cattle grid into the house yard, clunking loudly as the tyres hit the evenly spaced railway iron laid over the concrete pit. ‘And that was number one-twenty-eight. We’re home!’ shouted Bella as she flung open the door of the still-moving ute.

  Leaping out onto the gravel, she raced up the old redbrick path to Francine, who was spr
inting towards her daughter laughing, crying and calling at the top of her voice, ‘Girls! Oh Bella, my darling girl!’

  ‘Mum! MUM!’

  Mother and daughter gathered each other up and danced around and around in a jig of joy. Kisses, hugs and more kisses.

  Patty pulled her red ute to a halt. She slowly opened her driver’s-side door, got out and leaned on the bonnet watching mother and daughter with amusement. She knew she’d get the same reception from her mum, but to reach home she still had over an hour and three cattle grids to go.

  Francine untangled herself from Bella’s hug. Slinging an arm around her daughter, she called across to Patty. ‘Darling, you look simply gorgeous. So tanned and fit. Come on, give me a hug. Won’t Helen be so pleased to see you too. She was only saying the other night how much she missed you.’

  Patty walked over and was kissed and hugged as well. ‘This calls for a cup of tea.’ Francine snuggled a girl in on either side of her. ‘It’s just so good to see your smiling faces. I can’t believe you’re home. Come on in and tell us all about it.’

  Patty tossed Bella a warning look.

  Don’t you dare tell her about Macca, the look seemed to say.

  Bella imperceptibly nodded. She responded with a dark look of her own.

  Don’t you dare tell her about Will!

  The old Vermaelon homestead had been added onto and extended with each generation. What had started out a hundred years ago as a simple square of four rooms back to back had gradually metamorphosed into a rambling farmhouse with nooks and crannies around every corner. The weatherboard exterior was painted a creamy white, the roof was corrugated iron in differing shades of gumleaf-green depending on the position of the sun.

  The homestead was surrounded by towering oaks, liquid-ambers, golden elms and majestic native red gum trees. The flower beds bloomed with an abundance of flowers: hundreds of roses, lavenders, camellias and azaleas, all testament to Francine Vermaelon’s green fingers.

  Francine led the way through the French side doors, into the serene confines of the house. The ghostly presence of generations of Vermaelons seemed to watch as they walked through the side passage into the formal entrance of the main house.

  As wide as it was deep, the vestibule was elegantly laid out with an antique hallstand to hang a hat or coat and a half-circular table with ornately turned legs to receive the mail.

  Francine sailed on past without a backward glance, with Bella chattering nonstop beside her. Patty wandered along behind.

  Suddenly a hand clamped onto her shoulder and Patty spun around.

  Bella’s father Frank stood there, all six-foot-two of him. His cornflower-blue eyes twinkled and he held his broad arms wide open. ‘Ah, my girls. And isn’t it a sight for sore eyes to see you two.’

  ‘Dad!’ cried Bella, as she twirled around at the sound of her father’s voice. Flying back across the hall, she just beat Patty into his wide, welcoming arms.

  Smiling over the blonde, curly head of his beautiful daughter, Frank beckoned Patty as Bella moved over to make room for her best mate. And within the clasp of that warm and allencompassing hug, the girls felt they were finally truly home.

  The afternoon wore into night, as cup after cup of strong sugar-laden tea was drunk in the warm country kitchen of Merinda. First with Frank and Francine, and then with Bella’s brother Justin and his wife Melanie, who arrived from their share-farmer’s house on another part of the farm for dinner and to listen to the girls’ many stories.

  Telephone calls and emails just couldn’t convey the thousand tales of outback adventures they’d had. While tucking into Francine’s beautifully cooked roast tea, Patty and Bella had their audience in hysterics with the accounts of the antics and parties from the last twelve months.

  The night carried on into the wee hours of the morning until Justin pushed back his chair from the huge kitchen table. ‘Enough. I’ve laughed more tonight than I have in the past year with this flamin’ drought, but I have to go home and get my beauty sleep.’

  The clock dinged two a.m., and Frank rose as well. ‘Yes, son. You’ve got four hundred beautiful women’s backsides waiting for you at five a.m., and I don’t think you’re going to look your best with only three hours’ sleep.’

  Melanie walked over to stand by Justin’s side. Looking a picture of pregnant health with a curly mop of red curls framing a little freckled face, Melanie was as feisty as her hair suggested. ‘Yeah, come on, Just. Those gorgeous black-and-white numbers will be spraying poop everywhere if you keep them waiting. Plus, the babysitter’s got to be up and gone by six. She does trackwork at the racecourse,’ she explained as Bella’s eyebrows rose. ‘I want a little shut-eye too before those two heathens you call our kids land on our bed.’

  Bella jumped up to kiss her brother and Melanie goodbye. Justin chucked his little sister under the chin and grinned down into her smiling eyes. ‘It’s good to have you home, sis.’

  ‘It’s good to be here. I loved it all up there in Queensland, but it was time to come back.’

  Justin grabbed Melanie’s coat and helped her into it. ‘What’s on now for you two?’

  ‘Well, my leave of absence from the hospital is nearly finished so I’m going back to taking temps and washing body parts,’ said Patty, looking resigned.

  ‘Whinger. You love it!’ said Bella, giving her mate a shove. ‘It’s a captive audience, what more could you want?’

  Justin laughed as Patty rolled her eyes. He turned to his sister, ‘What about you, Hells Bells?’

  ‘My twelve months’ leave is over about then too. I’m due back at the Department of Agriculture after Christmas.’

  Francine interrupted them. ‘Yes, Bella, darling, David Neille rang wondering if you could meet with him next Monday. He wants you to take on a new job within Landcare when you go back.’

  ‘You really are in demand with the fellas at the moment, Hells Bells!’ Patty’s singsong voice was laced with innuendo as she moved off to find the spare bedroom.

  Bella poked her tongue out at her friend, too tired to come up with a smart-arse reply.

  Patty’s laughter echoed down the hall.

  It was early morning when Bella finally curled up in her own bed at Merinda. The antique Queen Anne bed, which had been her mother’s and was now hers, was cool and comfortable. The lavender scent Bella always associated with home wafted across her nostrils as she snuggled into the sheets. The chiffon curtains hanging across the open window were awhirl as a cool breeze puffed gently into the room.

  It was wonderful to be back, Bella thought as she soaked in the feel and smells of Merinda. It was like the grand-dame house was welcoming the prodigal daughter home into the loving and welcoming shelter of its walls.

  It was so good to see her parents, particularly her mum. She’d missed that Chanel No. 5 scented hug, those sweet endearments. She was reminded of just how much her mother was the rock on which she centred her life; the one person who would unreservedly and unconditionally love her and support her, no matter what scrapes she got herself into. There weren’t many parents who’d be happy to let their young daughter head into the wilds of outback Queensland with no job, no prospects and no idea of what she was doing, let alone where she was going.

  But her parents had.

  And Bella, wise to her father’s reticent ways, knew it was her mother who’d waged the argument on her behalf. It was her mother who, along with Helen O’Hara, had supported the girls’ quest to fulfil their dreams. Both women must have remembered what it was like to be young with mountains to conquer. They also knew the two girls would look after each other while they were away.

  Amid all the parties and fun of the past year, Bella had come to truly appreciate just how much her home and family meant to her.

  Chapter 20

  The Holden ute was rocking. Patty had the volume up as high as it would go, and Bella could see Francine’s good-natured grimace as the Dixie Chicks belted out ‘Wide Open Spaces’. Somewhe
re beyond the windows of the ute was their wide open space, but they couldn’t see it through the thick fog.

  Out there were open paddocks, rolling on and on until somewhere near the horizon they led to Merinda, where her father Frank would be making his way into the house after locking up the last of the milking cows.

  Past those paddocks and Merinda were the mountains of the Great Divide, which hid the other place, and the man so close to Bella’s heart: Tindarra and Will O’Hara.

  They were on their way home after a day shopping in Bairnsdale.

  The dense fog had hit just after they left the truck stop fifty kilometres back. Over the washbasin of the loo, Bella and her mother had had a good-humoured argument over whose turn it was to squash in the middle and straddle the gearstick of Patty’s ute.

  Francine had lost and now, in the last fifteen minutes to home, Bella could see her mother’s eyes closing, lulled by the music, the heated air spilling from the vents and the exhaustion of a big day out in town.

  It had been two weeks since they’d arrived home. With the Nunkeri Muster crossed off the Tindarra and Narree social calendars, all thoughts turned towards the Burrindal B&S Ball, and Bella had convinced her mother to come dress-shopping with her and Patty.

  And thus the ‘Quest for the Dress’ had begun.

  The day had started at six-thirty with a cuppa and a piece of toast. Patty had driven down from Tindarra the night before so they could be on the road to Bairnsdale in time to hit the shops by nine. It was only a fortnight until Christmas and the ball was planned for Saturday night. It was now Thursday, so the quest was skidding in sideways, a last-minute sprint to make them belles of the ball. Or, as far as the girls were concerned, at least to look a hell of a lot better than that dolled-up bitch Prudence Vincent-Prowse.