Ross's Girl

by Jane Corrie

  `Well, I'm listening,' Ross replied, still with that

  touch of impatience in his voice, and with his eyes back to the sheep pen in front of him. 'Move the next batch in,' he shouted out to one of the drovers, making Vicky want to turn on her heel and leave him to it, but the urgency that she had felt earlier on the need to get this part of things over with made her stand her ground and refuse to be beaten.

  `I'm not going to marry you, Ross,' she said quickly before her courage deserted her. 'I've been thinking things over, and I've decided it wouldn't work. I just wanted you to know, that's all,' she added on a low note.

  For a moment or two it looked as if Ross hadn't heard a word she had said, and that would be just like him, too, she thought furiously, and if he expected her to spend a lifetime talking to a stone wall, then he had another think coming!

  His blue gaze left the pen and rested on her flushed angry face. 'Found someone else, have you?' he asked softly, but with a hint of amusement in his voice, as if he didn't believe a word of it.

  `Of course I haven't!' Vicky replied indignantly, and wished afterwards that she had said yes, that would have shaken that complacent expression off his face, but even while the thought was there, she knew she wouldn't have got away with such a barefaced lie. Ross knew her too well.

  Ross's eyes went back to the sheep being herded into the shed. `Gordon's been spending a lot of time in town lately, so I hear,' he said, in a matter-of-fact voice. 'Guess you're lonely, huh?' he added,

  with a lift of his autocratic brows.

  Vicky's anger flared up again. In his eyes that would explain her extraordinary behaviour. She had wanted attention, so she had hit on a scheme of annoying Ross. So he hadn't believed her! Her hands clenched into small fists, and she wished she could hit him. He was so sure of himself.

  `This has nothing to do with Father,' she ex-

  .

  claimed impatiently. And I'm not lonely. I'm used to my own company, as you very well know.' Her bright indignant eyes left him 'and settled on the sweeping pastures beyond the homestead. 'It's just that I got to thinking about us and—well, I guess I'd taken a lot for granted—never really thought about things, I mean. Now that I have, it ' she hesitated, 'well, it seems a ridiculous arrangement,' she ended firmly.

  With his eyes, and Vicky suspected, his thoughts still on the busy scene in front of him, Ross said casually, And I've been kinda busy these last few months.'

  `When aren't you?' Vicky retorted sarcastically. `There's nothing new in that, is there? Look, don't you see. It's all very well having these arrangements made for us, but it's what we want that really counts, isn't it?' she demanded earnestly. 'We've been brainwashed into accepting the fact that one day we would marry, and it's just not on!' she added vehemently. 'It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to me,' she tacked on for good measure.

  Ross's eyes studied her flushed features. 'That's how you see it, is it?' he queried mildly, And that's

  what you want?' he added, and gave a nonchalant shrug. 'Well, I guess that's okay by me,' and he turned his attention back to his stock, calling out to his foreman Jacko who had just appeared at the door of the shearing shed. 'At this rate we'll be through by this afternoon—better give Jake a call, they'll be ready to move on in the morning.'

  Vicky's eyes were glinting as she stamped back to her car. She could have given Jake the message, couldn't she? she thought furiously, but she was only a girl, and station work was men's work. Ross took the same attitude as her father took, the woman's place was in the homestead, making things comfortable for the menfolk, she thought crossly, as she got in her car, and slammed the door shut, turned on the ignition and released the handbrake. She put her foot down with more force than was necessary and swinging the old car out of the homestead precincts headed for home.

  If she was honest with herself, she would have admitted that her annoyance did not stem from the fact that the men in her life took such a protective attitude towards their womenfolk, but from sheer frustration at the calm way Ross had accepted her decision not to go ahead with their marriage.

  It was as if, she mused darkly, as the car rattled along the uneven ground and over holes in the road that she would normally have taken great care to bypass, he had never had any intention of going through with it anyway, and was relieved that she felt the same way about things. It was almost as if

  she had made the whole thing up, she thought furiously, and he was grateful that she had come to her senses.

  Her smooth brow furrowed as she recalled his vague-sounding excuse that he had been busy lately, and she couldn't think what that had to do with it. He had never gone out of his way to be nice to her, let alone court her, if that was what he had been hinting at, she thought satirically. Her soft lips twisted. She doubted if he knew the meaning of the word court'. He was married to his station, and she really couldn't see him going soft over a mere woman, and she pitied anyone who tried to alter that state of affairs. They would lose hands down.

  Ahead of her she could see her home, a large sprawling timber and brick dwelling that nestled in the fertile slope of the valley, but even this view did not give her the usual sense of pride she had always felt when returning home. Oh, she needed a change right enough, she thought, as she neared the boundary entrance, and from where she could see that her father had returned. He had a way of closing the entrance gate that was almost a signature, jamming the steel framework tight up against the posts.

  As Vicky closed the gate behind her and got back into the car, she wondered if this was the day when he would honour her with his confidences and not before time, she thought grimly. It must be all of six to eight weeks since he had taken to sneaking off to town looking like a little boy who had just

  found a lollipop tree and determined to keep its whereabouts to himself in case he was denied the treats in store.

  Vicky sighed. She couldn't see Ross carrying on in such a surreptitious way. Come to think of it, there was a time when she couldn't see her father doing so either. She drew in another deep breath. There was a time for everything. She supposed that one day even Ross, too, might succumb to the same old fatal disease called love, but whoever worked the oracle it certainly wouldn't be Victoria Dale! Ella Waden, perhaps? She pulled the car into the parking lot in front of the homestead. Well, there was nothing to stop either of them now from going ahead. Ross was going on for twenty-six, and it was time he thought about settling down if he wanted a son to follow in his footsteps.

  Her father's Ford was parked in his usual spot to the side of the house, and as Vicky walked into the homestead she wondered if he had had his lunch or whether he was waiting for her to rustle something up for him, and her thoughts went towards the icebox and what she could produce in a reasonably short time.

  When she got to the living-room, however, and saw her father slumped in his favourite old armchair staring morosely at a half finished glass of whisky in his hand, all thought of food and other mundane issues went out of her head, and she exclaimed, 'What's wrong?' in a low worried voice, asking, yet sure of the answer. He had been turned down, she thought, and wondered how she could

  ease his obvious disappointment.

  He stared up at her, and blinked as if startled by her appearance. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he had not heard her arrival, then he gave her a lopsided attempt at a grin, and Vicky wondered how much whisky he had had before her arrival. `There's no fool like an old fool,' he said slowly, measuring his words, proving that he was not yet drunk but well on the way.

  Vicky walked towards him and sat down opposite him. 'Turned you down, did she?' she asked softly.

  Gordon Dale gave a hoarse chuckle that held no amusement in it. 'I guess that's one way of putting it,' he replied, then took a hearty swallow of his drink and drew himself up straighter in his chair. 'I got took to the cleaners, girl,' he declared harshly, and nodded at Vicky's astonished glance, and she was astonished. Her father had never been a gambler, he
had much too much sense for that. He had never even betted on a local derby, calling it a mug's game.

  `Gambling?' she exclaimed in a disbelieving voice. `You?'

  He shook his head as if to clear his senses. `Ought to have seen it coming,' he said scathingly, `but they were clever, I'll give them that much.'

  Vicky got up from her chair as her father took another swallow from his glass. What he needed was good strong black coffee. She wasn't going to get any sense out of him in that state, she thought, and went through to the kitchen to make it.

  After a lot of coaxing and scolding, Vicky won the day and managed to sober her father up, and bit by bit extracted the whole of it from him

  She learned that her earlier surmising of a woman in the background was right. Her father had met her at an auction in town. He had repeated his scathing comment of being an old fool and how he 'ought to have seen it coming', and then shaken his head and commented pithily that he had asked for all he'd got.

  As Vicky listened, she realised the story had all the hallmarks of a confidence swindle. The woman must have been a very attractive person—but they were, of course. She was also a stranger, newly arrived in the town, which she would have to be to carry off the deception, Vicky mused, and supposed it was blackmail, she couldn't see what else it could be, and her thoughts turned immediately to Ross. Ross would know how to handle it, she thought confidently. 'How much is she asking?' she asked her father, thinking privately that the woman had a shock coming if she thought she was going to get away with it.

  However, it was Vicky who received the shock. Her father stared at her, then cleared his throat. `They've no need to ask,' he said harshly, 'they've got! They hold an I.O.U. that amounts to the value of the property.'

  Vicky stared at him, unable to take in what he had said. Then she swallowed, and again her thoughts turned to Ross, and the sooner he was told all this, the better. Then her attention went

  back to what her father had just said. 'They?' she asked.

  Her father nodded grimly. 'It was a set-up job,' he replied harshly. 'She took me to meet her brother ' he took a deep breath, 'at least she told me it was her brother,' he looked around for the whisky bottle, but Vicky was just that bit quicker and removed it firmly out of sight. He took another deep breath, before going on: 'He ran a hotel out on the outskirts of Canberra.' His lips twisted cynically. 'A casino, actually,' he added. `I'm not so simple that I couldn't see that, but that was his business,' he shrugged, 'and Clarice didn't see any harm in it. She occasionally played herself—nothing big, of course, but enough to convince me that it was on the up-and-up.'

  He stirred restlessly. 'You've got to hand it to them,' he said pithily, 'they knew they'd got hold of a silly old goat ripe for plucking. I'd played with small amounts from time to time, but last night,' he shook his head, 'I'd asked Clarice to marry me, and she said yes.' He ran a hand over his forehead. `I guess I thought it was my lucky night, and splashed out a bit more lavishly on the tables. Of course, I kept on winning—if I'd lost earlier on, I'd have come to my senses.' His jaw hardened. 'So that's that,' he said finally. 'And there's nothing to be done about it. He's running a legal business out there, and as far as they're concerned it's the luck of the draw and I lost hands down.'

  Vicky stared at her father, finding it hard to believe that he could have fallen for such an old trick

  as that, and if anyone else had told her the story she simply wouldn't have believed it. Again her thoughts turned to Ross. `Ross—' she began.

  Her father shook his head adamantly. 'Ross can't do anything,' he said firmly. 'He'll call me an old fool, and he's right. I'm only thankful that it can be kept in the family, because the debt's got to be paid. I'm looking to Ross for that, but as he'll get the station anyway in time, he'll see it as an investment.'

  Vicky swallowed hard, and stared at the living-room carpet. Of all the times to tell her father that she was not going to marry Ross, this was hardly the best—but he had to know sooner or later. 'I'm not going to marry Ross,' she said slowly but firmly.

  Her father's eyes, that had been looking longingly towards the cabinet where Vicky had replaced the whisky bottle, swivelled back to her in astonishment. 'Not going to marry Ross? Nonsense!' he said abruptly, then relaxed as if assured of his statement. 'Of course you'll marry him.' He shrugged offhandedly. 'You've fallen out with him, I suppose? Well, you'll make it up again. Storm in a teacup as usual,' he grumbled, and got up slowly. `Guess I'd better go and see him and get it over with.'

  `I mean it, Father. I'm not going to marry Ross. I told him so this morning and ' she hesitated, `and if you want to know, I think he was relieved,' she added defiantly. She gave a half-rueful smile `In fact I know he was,' she tacked on, and moved

  across to where her father stood frozen in his tracks and laid a tentative hand on his arm. 'I'm sorry, Dad, but I wasn't to know about ' She left the rest of the sentence unfinished, but he knew what she meant.

  `Not your fault, girl,' he said gruffly, and looked out of the windows towards the paddocks. 'This wants thinking about,' he said slowly, and walked back to his chair. 'Sure that Ross felt the same way about things, are you?' he asked her, and at her nod of confirmation, he gave a long sigh, and shook his head as if trying to dispel the fog that had settled around him. 'Guess I'll have to sell up, then,' he said grimly, 'and give him first offer. Can't see him letting it go elsewhere,' he added in a low voice, 'and I might as well get that over with straight away,' he commented bitterly as he got up, and jamming his stetson on his head marched out of the homestead, watched by an apprehensive Vicky.

  CHAPTER TWO

  GORDON DALE returned an hour later, and as she watched him walk towards the homestead after parking his car, she sensed a certain amount of relief in his step and bearing, and her own anxiety lessened and she threw a grateful thought towards Ross who had, as she had been sure he

  would, come to their rescue.

  Her fine eyes met her father's thoughtful grey ones as he entered the hall. 'All right?' she queried softly.

  Gordon Dale's, mouth quirked at the corners with some kind of emotion that Vicky could not identify, then he said quietly, 'Better than I deserve. At least we'll be able to stay on here. Ross is coming up this evening to iron out the details.' Then he gave a frown. 'I'd better put Jake into the picture,' he added heavily, and went out again in search of his foreman.

  Vicky frowned. What did her father mean by saying that they would be able to stay on? Of course they would be staying on—where else could they go? This was their home. Then she gave a quick inward breath. It was not their station any longer! Ross had agreed to buy the property to pay her father's debt. She drew in another shaky breath. Nothing was theirs. So much for her earlier wish that she could be like any other girl who had nothing else to offer the man in her life but her love and devotion!

  Her eyes widened as yet other thoughts entered her mind, some of them not so palatable. How did her father stand in all this? His pride had already suffered a severe set back, and were there not more to come? Now she understood that enigmatic look of his. Couldn't Ross have lent him the money? she thought indignantly. It wasn't as if he couldn't afford it. As she remembered what had taken place that morning, she gave a deep sigh. Had she still

  been going to marry Ross this no doubt was what would have happened. As her father had said, it would have been kept in the family. She had chosen a fine time to declare her independence, she thought sadly.

  Ross came after dinner that evening, and after giving Vicky an abstracted nod of greeting went into the study with her father, leaving Vicky feeling shut out and unwanted, yet it was her future too, wasn't it? she thought furiously, and she had a right to be present.

  Her anger soon abated when she gave a thought to her father's position, and that whatever was decided he would not want his daughter present at such a discussion. There would be changes, not only in their status, but in the running of the station, for Ross had his own idea
of management, and it did not always coincide with her father's.

  An hour later the men emerged from the study, and Vicky, who had been keeping a sharp ear open for their emergence, flung down the magazine she had tried to interest herself in and rushed into the passage to meet them. 'Well?' she asked her father.

  Gordon Dale looked at Ross as if to say, 'You tell her,' but Ross declined the obvious hint and gave an offhand shrug of his powerful shoulders. `I've some figures to get out,' he said brusquely. `See you tomorrow, Gordon.' With that almost casual dismissal of the pair of them, he walked out of the homestead.

  Vicky felt a spurt of alarm. She hadn't liked the way Ross had thrown the ball back in her father's

  side of the court as if dissociating himself from the whole business. 'Well?' she asked again.

  Her father took a deep breath before walking slowly over to his favourite chair beside the hearth, and after seating himself, started to light a cigarette. Closely watching his actions, Vicky saw that his hands were not steady, and she felt a spurt of sympathy for him. It could not have been easy for him. He had been made a fool of by a pair of confidence tricksters, and if that wasn't bad enough, he had lost everything he owned in the bargain. She walked over to the drinks cabinet and poured him a shot of whisky, and without a word handed it to him.

  He acknowledged this action with a wry twist of his lips, but shot her a grateful look before he took a swallow from the glass. 'As I said before,' he began heavily, 'it's more than I deserve. Ross has bought the station. He's arranging to settle the debt with those bloodsuckers tomorrow.' He shot Vicky a quick half shameful look. 'He's putting Jake in as manager,' he said quietly, and added bitterly, `suggested it was time I put myself on the retired list.' His hand holding the glass tightened. 'Guess I've not much choice in the matter.' He stared unseeingly at the old photographic print on the wall opposite him, and following his gaze, Vicky looked at it too. It was one of the first photographs of the old homestead soon after her father had taken over from his father. 'All for the best really,' he went on. 'My way's the old-fashioned way. Ross is all for progress. He offered me the figure work. Jake's