by Bowes, K T
Hana watched as he dragged the lunge rope gently back and forth across her withers, gaining her trust until he could pull the long rope from where it connected to her halter, around her whole body over her tail. He stood on her left and pulled on the rope gently and the horse turned away from him and the pressure of the rope until she had done an almost complete 360 degree turn. Her ears flicked back and forwards, always listening, showing obvious pleasure when Logan spoke gentle encouragements to her or rubbed her forehead.
After a week, he progressed to leading her around the arena obediently and managed to set a stock saddle gently on her back. It seemed a far more protracted process than Hana had ever imagined. Logan exhibited a steely determination coupled with an extraordinary amount of patience, but Hana was impressed.
“See how she’s walking too close behind me?” he said to Hana as she watched over the fence. The wind blew her red hair back from her face like silken coils behind her and Logan paused for a moment at her expectant face. “I need to teach her now to respect my personal space. He walked ahead of the mare and she pushed in behind him, her nose almost touching his shoulder. Logan stopped dead and stamped his foot, flinging his arms out either side of him. Alarmed, the mare leapt back and shied, a shock reaction more than a sincere attempt to escape. “In a herd,” Logan called to Hana as he set off walking again, towing the filly a little further behind, “they get taught this stuff by the other mares. She needs to understand I’m the head of the herd and she has to give me respect. It’s about her knowing her place. If she walked up Sacha’s bum, she’d get kicked, so I’m emulating that in a way that she understands.”
He repeated the exercise until the filly settled in behind him, respectfully following his lead but no longer shoving him in the back or trying to push past him.
“So is it a dominance thing?” Hana asked as Logan walked around the arena adjacent to her and he nodded and looked pleased. Hana admired his strong physique as he walked past, his cowboy boots and jeans dusty and his hat tipped back on his head. His whakapapa tattoo snaked from underneath the sleeve of his tee shirt, wrapping itself around a firm brown bicep. “So when do I get some lessons?” she asked with a smirk, stunned by her husband’s reaction. He beamed, all white teeth and shining grey eyes.
“Come in then,” he said with enthusiasm and to Hana’s dismay, held the lead rope out towards her, completely misunderstanding.
Hana awkwardly climbed the fence and spent the next half an hour leading the filly, stamping her foot and introducing another dimension to the female’s training. And hers.
Logan’s other project was a different matter altogether and although Hana only watched him with the filly, she heard stories about the black colt which had been gelded late and currently gave Logan a real run for his money. A sore wrist, a black eye and a kick to a rather sensitive part of his anatomy gave the stable yard staff an enormous amount of entertainment, but Logan seemed in no hurry to admit defeat. “That’s one way to get yourself sterilised,” Toby laughed and slapped Logan on the back as he bent double in the arena, the colt snorting and posturing a safe distance away from him.
“Sod off. You’re fired,” Logan groaned, hauling himself up onto the top run of the fence but finding it hard to sit down. After that, the man became even more determined to succeed and the war raged on with bets being placed on who would win.
Time passed quickly and pleasurably and Hana loved her rancher husband in his dirty cowboy boots and his battered old Jackaroo hat. He was tanned and happy and the stress of the city dropped away from him with each day spent outside in the hot sunshine.
The only real surprise for Hana was Alfred’s continued odd behaviour. Previously loving and generous with her, he seemed at pains to ignore and avoid her and it made Hana feel perplexed and uneasy. She tried to talk to Logan about it, but he was busy and to her dismay just brushed it off casually. “He’s fine, babe. It’s just Mum being sick again, it gets him down. He’ll come right soon.”
But Hana felt something was badly wrong.
Michael turned up at the hotel in the week before Christmas, having taken leave from the hospital. Hana assumed he would go out with Logan on horseback. “What’s your favourite bit of the farm?” she asked over breakfast.
“None of it!” he scoffed. Bitterness laced his voice.
Hana stopped eating her toast and stared at him in surprise.
“I had a serious fall in my teens,” he explained. “It made me afraid of horses and riding. They never rated me on the farm anyway and I hated it. My brother’s welcome to it!”
Hana realised quickly that the affable doctor was an illusion. Michael had deep rooted insecurities and an underlying jealousy of Logan. With the hotel ramping down and little else to do, Michael attached himself to Hana and followed her everywhere like a puppy dog. “These motel rooms look heaps better,” he remarked, winking at Lily as she adjusted the swags of a sumptuous curtain.
Hana rolled her eyes. “You’re certainly a trier!” she chided him later. “Lily’s gay and very much not interested. You’re wasting your time.”
Michael looked temporarily deflated, until dinner time when one of the waitresses showed him a little too much attention and his ego perked up again.
But he was good company and Hana found him increasingly hard to dislike. He furnished her with stories about their childhood and upbringing, although he understandably overlayed the disturbing tales with the gloss of time. “Tell me about your brother, Barry,” Hana asked and Michael winced.
“He was a psycho. Less you know about him, the better.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Hana ventured.
“No!” Michael kicked at a ball of pumice and sent it skittering off into a raised bed. “I know what you’re going to ask, so no.”
“Oh.” Hana sniffed, offended. She bit her lip and looked frustrated. “It was just something Logan said about him.”
“I know what Logan would have said about him. Please just leave it Hana?”
“Ok, sorry.” The moment felt awkward and guilt infiltrated Hana’s emotions as punishment for trespassing.
Michael stopped on the path between the motels and the imposing house and faced her. “Some things it’s best you don’t know?”
“Out of respect for Miriam?” Hana asked and Michael looked confused.
“No! Out of respect for your husband.”
Hana’s cheeks reddened with fear. “What do you mean?”
“See! Right there!” Michael jabbed an angry finger into her chest. “You have too much to learn. Let’s just agree to stay away from certain subjects.”
Hana nodded, her heart beating fast. Her agreement was farcical because she didn’t know which subjects to avoid. She stayed silent until they reached the house and Michael relented, catching her arm as they went up the big front steps. “I’m sorry, this must be hard for you.”
“No, not hard.” Hana shook her head and dragged her arm away. “Just bloody impossible.” She waved behind her and made her way towards the main stairs, badly needing a lie down. So, the Du Roses had secrets and that was fine. She wasn’t offended they weren’t sharing. Hana had her own secrets and wasn’t about to bandy them around her new family. But it felt like walking through a mine field; never knowing which footstep would splice her head from her body.
Later, Hana wandered the huge downstairs rooms alone, with a small map borrowed from Leslie. She was drawn to the library like a magnet to its true north. Michael found her there and Hana wrinkled her nose, wary of his earlier mood. “I’m sorry about before,” he said, his dark features endearingly sad. His black hair flopped into his eyes and he slumped into a wing backed chair.
“I don’t care anymore.” Hana stroked the spines of several books under her fingers. The shelves were clean and polished but the books looked undisturbed, a line of dust gracing the distance between each one.
“Don’t be like that,” Michael said. “I know Logan’s a secretive bugger but on som
e things, I just can’t help you.”
“I don’t want you to. I said I don’t care.” Hana pulled out a Jane Austen classic and blew the dust from its uppermost side. The gold writing on the spine said, Emma and inside the publishing date was from the late 1800s. “I might borrow this,” Hana mused. “I haven’t read any Austen for too long.” She sat on the soft cushions of the window seat and Michael observed her.
“You love books?”
“Yeah. I did an English degree.”
“Like Logan?”
Hana nodded and Michael smoothed his hand over his chin and looked thoughtful. “I could never be bothered with all that poetic wrangling. I was more interested in fixing what was wrong, than writing long soliloquy’s about it.”
“So you became a doctor? To fix what was wrong?”
“Yeah, kind of.” Michael bit his lip and looked guarded again and Hana’s patience snapped. Her body felt like a beach ball, pumped way beyond its pressure point and her feet ached.
“Please, just leave me alone!” she bit. “You don’t want me asking questions and I don’t have the energy to play guessing games. “I just want some peace. I don’t care about your deep, dark secrets.” She waved the novel in the air. “To be honest, there’s more entertainment value in here. I’m sure there’s places you’d rather be than babysitting me, so please, you’re released from duty. Just go!”
Michael’s face broke into an instant grin. “Sparky! So that’s what Logan loves about you? I knew there had to be more than the little English rose you appear to be.”
“Sod off!” Hana grew exasperated.
“Anyone ever told you, you look hot when you’re angry?” Michael strolled over and sat his unwelcome backside on the window seat. Without asking, he grabbed Hana’s wrist and pulled it towards him, clamping two fingers over her vein. “Why is your heartbeat so irregular?” he asked after a moment.
Hana snatched her hand away. “Rubbish! You didn’t even time that.”
Michael laughed. “I did actually. Look.” He twisted his other wrist so Hana could see the digital display facing upwards. His eyes were smiling and she felt stupid. He smoothed the soft skin of her wrist with his fingers. “But I didn’t need to. I’ve done this for enough years to instinctively know what’s normal and what isn’t. Have you had it checked?”
“Yes, heaps of times.” Hana sounded bored and Michael smirked.
“Don’t you trust me? I’m a good doctor.”
“So you say,” she snarked and he sniggered.
“Ok, Hana Du Rose. I’ll tell you why I became a doctor, but it wasn’t my finest moment.”
“Ooh, don’t tell me secrets, Michael. I might tell the newspapers and then where would you be?” Hana stood up and reached towards the nearest shelf, pulling out a book which caught her eye. She fingered the dusty, faded copy of Daniel Defoe’s Roxana.
“I studied this for my degree.” She smiled dreamily and stroked the spine. “Defoe wrote for money and the inconsistencies in his writing can be hilarious.” Hana turned to find Michael’s grey eyes observing her with a predatory interest.
A few times he took her on the quad to where Logan and his men mended one of the many fences, or drenched the cattle or horses. On each occasion, Logan behaved oddly towards Hana, detached and cautious, polite but clearly unhappy about her close association with his brother. “Why do you have to be with him?” Logan asked crossly as Hana handed him a bottle of water. She looked stunned.
“He’s just being civil and entertaining me. It’s quite boring with you out all day and then tired all evening. There’s only so much I can do to help your mother. What do you want from me?”
Logan capitulated and put his arm around Hana. “I just don’t like it, is all,” he said, kissing her forehead and nuzzling into her hair. “I don’t trust him.”
“Does that mean you don’t trust me either?” Hana asked and Logan’s face clouded. Jealousy rose like a green monster between them and Hana left before an argument began. During the third trip up the mountain on the quad bike, Logan completely ignored his brother and was blatantly possessive with his wife, monopolising her until it grew uncomfortable. As he kissed her goodbye, Logan glanced sideways at his brother and hissed, “I know your dirty game, man. You touch my wife and I’ll bury you!”
Michael’s face paled in anger and he balled his fists. “You never forget or forgive, do you Logan?” he replied through gritted teeth. “One mistake in the past and that’s it for you, isn’t it?”
“Some mistake!” Logan scoffed. “And you repeated it a few times, or so she told me, just before she aborted the baby!”
Hana cringed. The other stockmen had finished the lunch she and Michael carried up the mountain on the bike and moved wordlessly away. Hana stood between the angry brothers, feeling vulnerable.
“I said sorry!” Michael shouted. “Why do you never let things go?”
“How can I?” Logan hissed. “When you’re showing all the same signs again.”
Hana’s face clouded with anger and she moved away, one hand over her stomach. Even the thought of Caroline and Logan made the bile rise into her throat and she felt prickling heat spread over her body. Caroline’s blonde hair and long legs fixed a picture of themselves in Hana’s memory, making her feel lumpy and inadequate in her pregnant state and draining her of confidence. “Don’t mind me!” she said angrily to the two posturing men over her shoulder. “You just carry on fighting about an old girlfriend. I’ll go sit on the quad until you’re done. Then maybe one of you can drive me back to the hotel, if it’s not too much trouble?”
“Hana...” Logan called after her, sounding sorry. She ignored him, stalking off down the mountain. On a whim, she walked past the quad and started on the rugged track through the bush. Tears of misery streaked her face and she recognised the pregnancy hormones causing the rush of emotion. “Bloody men and their bloody egos!” she raged to a wax-eye as it shadowed her down the mountain.
Michael met her a few hundred metres out. “Get on the bike,” he bit roughly at her. Hana felt tempted to refuse but a heavy tiredness washed over her and she couldn’t be bothered. Michael stayed angry all the way down into the valley, saying Logan’s name and swearing. Hana sat quietly and felt progressively uneasy as their speed increased with his irritation. Finally, she grabbed hold of his sleeve and pulled at his arm.
“Please, stop!” Her face showed terror as she slipped and slid in the bench seat of the vehicle, trying to brace herself against the safety bar across the back.
“Sorry, sorry,” Michael said full of contrition as he pulled up to a halt halfway down the hill. The action made it worse as Hana slid forward unexpectedly into the foot well, bumping her knees on the hard frontage. Michael hauled her back into place, holding onto her arm until she was settled and apologising profusely amidst several profanities.
The doctor in him became genuinely concerned about Hana, fearing for her baby and Hana tried to reassure him, really not wanting his special care or the fuss which came with it. “I’ve endured far worse scares during this pregnancy. I’m made of stern Irish stock,” she joked, rubbing her lower back. A dull pain spread out from the base of her spine bringing an unwanted discomfort.
Michael was angry with himself. “He’s never gonna forgive me,” he said with regret, “for the Caroline thing.”
Hana kept quiet, not quite knowing what to say. Michael’s affair with Logan’s ex-girlfriend caused her husband huge emotional damage and Hana wasn’t about to betray him by downplaying that. Michael breathed out deeply and grasped the steering wheel with both hands. Hana looked at his distinctive hammer thumbs, the knuckles white and the pressure leaving an impression in the ripped plastic cover on the wheel. She watched him dig his nail into a particularly large rip which had been repaired with thick black tape.
Hana remained silent, looking down on the far away roof of the hotel and dreading the moment when Michael pushed the throttle and the old machine would start its br
eak-neck journey again. She made up her mind to refuse any further quad journeys, especially in the rickety old vehicle. There were newer machines, but they had handlebars and required her to sit astride a seat snuggled up to the back of the driver and she hadn’t fancied that much.
Still Michael just sat there, dragging his fingernail over the tape and biting his lip. The dragging backache pulled at Hana’s lower spine and spread round to the front of her belly. She tilted back in her seat and rubbed gently at it, keeping her other hand firmly on the guardrail at her side. “Can we just go please?” she asked. “I just want to get this over with. I need to lie down.”
“I’ve been seeing Tama’s mother,” Michael announced abruptly, “it’s been going really well. At least that’s one relationship I’m managing to repair.”
“Why did you break up?” Hana asked as he started the downward journey. She allowed curiosity to distract her from the uncomfortable, lurching motion.
“I was at uni and only saw her in the holidays. She realised she was pregnant and got with my deadbeat cousin quickly enough for him to think the baby was his. It didn’t take long for him to realise he’d been conned. Kane bashed the hell out of Aroha until she walked out. She tried to get Tama back, but my Uncle Rueben wouldn’t let her near him.”
Hana nodded. It was a sadly familiar story and one she had heard many times with different women and children’s names. “I wonder why his Reuben did that.” Hana mused, “Did he love Tama that much?”
“No!” Michael shook his head and narrowed his eyes. “It was to hurt Dad. My dad is Tama’s grandfather, not Rueben. It was on purpose, to deny him a moko. My mother...it’s complicated. Reuben...already lost a son.”
Hana rested her hand on Michael’s forearm, trying to soothe him. “You don’t have to tell me. Look, let’s go back to the house. I need a lie down and a cup of tea. Let’s do that. More slowly though, please?”