by Annie Seaton
“You’d know better than me. I’ve been overseas, remember.”
“Will you two stop sniping! I can hear you all the way down the hall.” Sebastian stepped from the room and walked across to them. “Pop thinks you’re fighting, and now he’s reminiscing about when we were all kids.”
“Lucy’s staying in town with Mackenzie.” Solidarity hummed between Liam and Sebastian as he scowled at Lucy, too.
“Why?”
“Oh no, don’t you start on me.” She slowed down and let them walk ahead. “I’ll see you both at home later.”
Garth was waiting for her in the car park, leaning casually on his red-dust-covered ute, his Akubra pulled low over his eyes to block out the late-afternoon sun. Lucy swatted at the sticky flies that buzzed around her and wiped away the trickle of perspiration that ran down her neck as soon as she stepped out of the cool air-conditioned hospital.
Great. Dust and flies. The only thing missing to make it perfect—not—was the prickles, she thought crossly. Garth pushed himself off the bull bar as she walked across, and he opened the passenger door for her. Lucy was in a strange mood; Sebastian and Liam had made her cross with the inquisition, and the surge of pleasure that ran through her as Garth helped her up into the ute cab added to her ill temper. What was a girl to do? Why was she the only one who seemed to be in this position? It wasn’t fair.
“The milk bar or the RSL club?” Garth looked across at her as he started the ute and the rattle of the diesel engine filled the cabin.
“I don’t care.” She shrugged. “You know the town better than me.”
“Okay, RSL it is. They’ve got a coffee shop out the back, overlooking the river.” He pulled out of the car park, and Lucy was aware of a few looks directed their way as he drove down the main street. Another mark in her book against small country towns. In the city, you could be anonymous. In the country, everyone knew your business. The way the grapevine worked here, she and Garth would be married with three kids by the time the day was over. Lucy gave a polite smile as Mrs Jones from the CWA stood and stared at the ute as they drove past.
“The river, you said?” She squinted and looked over the side of the bridge that split the town in half. Cracked mud and dead grass stretched as far as she could see.
“Okay, the riverbed. There’s been no water in the river for a couple of years now. The drought’s got a big hold on this end of the Pilliga. Unfortunately, the bores don’t stretch as far as town. There are a lot of property owners doing it very tough here now, Lucy.”
The RSL was a small brick building on the other side of the river—riverbed—and the car park had begun to fill as the workday ended. Garth waved and greeted a few workmen in hi-vis vests as they walked across to the double doors at the top of the steps. The club was noisy, and he was greeted by the doorman as he signed Lucy in to the club.
“Looks like you’ve come home to stay, Garth? I thought you’d be sick of the place after six months,” the man boomed out in a loud voice, and Lucy looked at Garth curiously, wondering where he’d been. He caught her glance and smiled.
“What does he mean? Where have you been?”
“Oh, here and there,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Come on, Lucy. Lighten up. You look like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. Tell me more about this sexy underwear gig you want to sign me up for.” He pulled out a chair for her at a table in the coffee shop, and she jumped as his fingers brushed hers. “Coffee or tea?”
“Short black, please.” Lucy leaned back on her chair as Garth went to the counter to order. She let her eyes linger on him as he turned away. A professional glance, she told herself. Broad shoulders, muscular thighs, and tight jeans that hugged his trim hips completed the sexy picture. His biceps bulged beneath the tight sleeves of his T-shirt, and as she admired his physique, Lucy realised that most of the other women in the bistro were doing the same thing. Garth turned around and looked a bit sheepish when he caught her staring. He carried over the coffee and slid her cup across the table before he sat down across from her.
“Thank you.”
“Okay, so what’s the go, Lucy-Lou?” His eyes were intent on hers.
“The go?” she repeated.
“What’s happening at Prickle Farm? Why the big family visit? No one comes near the place for years, and then all of a sudden, you’re all home. Is everyone okay? Harry seems better. What about your gran? Is she okay?” Despite the concern in his voice, Lucy sensed there was more than sympathy behind his questions.
A sliver of unease ran down her spine. Why was he so interested? It was more than a friendly enquiry. She leaned back and folded her arms. “So, what’s it to you? Are you interested because you want to buy it?”
“I’m interested because I care about my neighbours. They’re good people.” His hazel eyes held hers steadily as his deep voice washed over her. “I thought we were mates, Lucy. Why? Do you think I have some sort of hidden motive?”
“So why do you want it?”
Garth ran his hand through his hair in frustration, and she looked up and caught his eyes. The gold flecks were pronounced today, and his eyes were fringed by long, dark eyelashes. “I thought it would help your grandparents out, because no one else seemed to be interested until you all came rushing home. Your pop’s been struggling; the manager they have is less than useless, and—”
“What manager?” she interrupted, her voice almost a squawk. “Gran didn’t say anything about a manager!”
“You haven’t met Brian yet?”
“No, she hasn’t mentioned any manager.” Lucy frowned. “I got the impression that she and Pop have been running the place and the contractors do the harvesting.”
Garth shook his head. “Lucy, your grandfather’s barely been able to walk. Who do you think has been drenching the cattle and getting them in the yard and taking them to the cattle sales? I help out as much as I can, but I have my own place to run.”
Guilt flooded through Lucy, and she put her elbows on the table with her chin in her hands. “Look, Garth, the last few days have been really confusing for me. Lots of family decisions are being made, and I don’t know how you’re involved and why Gran has really got it in for you. Maybe you’d like to tell me why that is?”
“Maybe I’d like you to trust me like you used to,” he said enigmatically. He lifted up his coffee cup and held her eyes steadily. His were clear and open, and Lucy tried to ignore the little frisson of warmth running rampant in her lower belly as they stared at each other. Garth was the first to look away. “Hell, Lucy. I hate this.”
“Hate what?” she asked softly.
“Arguing with you.” He shook his head. “Look, let’s just forget the farm for a while. Let’s put it aside for now. Tell me more about your job. Tell me more about this great idea of yours and what you want me to do.”
Lucy forced aside the worry that Garth’s words had raised in her. Someone—whether it was him or Gran—wasn’t being totally truthful, and she wondered which one of them it was, and why there was a need to lie.
“Okay. Let’s talk my business.” After all, she did have her own job to worry about, even if this family stuff had been forced on to her. “So do you reckon you can help me out with my campaign?”
“All I have to do is get my photo taken with seminaked women?” That little warm butterfly beat its wings again in her lower belly as his lips tilted in a huge smile. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and his perfect teeth flashed white as he stared at her. “Sounds like hard work.”
“Yep, that’s all you have to do. And you’ll get paid.” Her voice trailed off as his smile disappeared.
“I don’t expect to be paid, Lucy. I’m happy to help you out. It’ll be fun. So what’s the go? The time frame?” He leaned forward, and she caught a whiff of aftershave mingled with perspiration and the earthy smell of man. “How long are you home for?”
“Home?” She shook her head slowly. “This isn’t home. Sydney’s home, although I’ll…”
Garth reached out and took her fingers in his. “Although?”
Lucy lifted her chin and looked at him. Despite having doubts earlier, she knew she could trust him. Garth would never do anything to hurt Gran and Pop, but before she told him anything, she had some questions she’d like answered.
“Let’s go back to what we were talking about before. Because before I tell you about my campaign, I have some news. It’s all connected.”
“Okay. What’s on your mind?”
“Why is Gran cross with you? And why do you want to buy our farm?”
“Our farm?” His eyes were serious now. “I thought home was Sydney?”
“It is, but it won’t be for a while.” She shook her head, frustrated by his lack of answers. Lucy kept her words measured as she spoke slowly. “So why has Gran got it in for you?”
Garth spread his hands on the table and looked down at them. “Because I tried to tell her something she didn’t want to hear.”
“And?”
“She didn’t believe me, and she accused me of some pretty harsh things. She thinks I have an ulterior motive for making up lies.”
“Garth.” Exasperation filled her voice. “Will you please tell me what is going on?”
He lifted his head, and his expression was troubled. “I told your grandmother that I suspect her manager is stealing their cattle, and she didn’t believe me.”
Chapter Nine
Lucy asked Garth to drop her at the front gate, and he leaned over and took her hand before she opened the door. When he’d dropped his bombshell about the cattle theft, she’d quickly finished her coffee and asked him to drive her home. She’d been quiet on the half-hour trip home, and still hadn’t decided whether to tell him she’d be staying at Prickle Creek Farm for a while. She had some thinking to do, as well as some investigation into his allegation.
“I’ll talk to Sebastian about taking some preliminary photos tomorrow afternoon,” she said. “Just before sunset when the light’s a bit softer.”
“Okay.” He squeezed her fingers. “At my place?”
“How about we meet you down by the bore? I’ll get the key and unlock the back gate and you can come the short way.” She stood and watched until Garth’s ute had disappeared down the road and the red dust had settled before she walked through the gate, brushing the flies from her face.
She was greeted by the smell of barbecuing meat as she pushed open the gate in the fence. Gran insisted on keeping the working dogs away from the house lawn and her garden. Lucy took a deep breath as she crossed the grass. The smell of meat was overlaid by the fragrance of the flowers of late summer. If she ignored the red dust backdrop and looked straight ahead, it was like being in an English cottage garden. Gran had grown up in England and followed Pop to Australia when she was only nineteen. When she was little, Lucy had loved to sit on Gran’s knee and listen to the story of how they met. They’d both worked as volunteers on a kibbutz in Israel. Harry, the young Australian farm boy from Western New South Wales, and Helena, the pretty social butterfly from Notting Hill in London, had fallen in love at first sight.
“He was a fine, strapping young man.” Gran had looked affectionately at Pop while a young Lucy had sat on her knee, enthralled by the story.
“And I still am,” Pop would say with his cheeky smile. But Lucy always remembered the way Gran had looked at her Harry in those days. The love had shown on her face, and at that time, Lucy had vowed that she would never get married until she could look at a man like that.
“I missed him so much when he went home to Australia, I followed him to see this Pilliga Scrub he went on about.” Lucy had sighed when Pop bent down to kiss Gran. “And I fell in love with that, too.”
So romantic. They’d had a huge social wedding in London, and Gran had moved to the old farmhouse at Prickle Creek Farm. Lucy had grown up believing in romance and happily ever after, but her recent relationships had soured that belief. The men she met in the city were focused on their careers, and she had yet to find one who rated her needs as more important than his career.
Memories of how soft and loving Gran had been before she and Pop had lost their three daughters came back to Lucy as she crossed the garden. The lawn was green and lush and edged with fragrant gardenia bushes, snapdragons providing a colourful edge between the graceful white flowers and the emerald green lawn. The scent of lavender filled the air, and Lucy picked a head from the bush and rolled it between her fingers as she crossed to the steps. Gran had kept in touch with her English heritage with her beautiful cottage garden.
A rush of love for the sad woman ran through Lucy, and regret that she had stayed away for so long pierced her chest. Voices and laughter met her as she pushed open the back door and stepped into the cool air-conditioned kitchen. Jemmy was sitting at the bench with Gran, shelling peas, and another wave of nostalgia hit Lucy. Seb and Liam were out on the back verandah standing companionably by the barbeque. She crossed the room and put her arms around Gran from behind and kissed her soft cheek. “I’m sorry, Gran.”
Gran put down the vegetables she was holding and turned to her with a frown.
“Sorry? What for? What have you done?”
“I’m sorry for staying away for so long.” She hugged her grandmother tightly. “I do love you, you know.”
“And I love you, too, Lucy. All of you.” Gran sniffed and brushed a hand across her eyes. “I’m sorry for being such a cranky old thing, but I’ve been worried about Harry…the farm.”
Lucy hugged her one more time before she crossed to the sink and washed her hands. “So green pea and mint salad? Yum!”
Gran put her head down and kept shelling the peas, and Jemmy caught Lucy’s eye with a smile and a nod. Dinner was a happier affair, and while they were having a cup of tea—no coffee in Gran’s house—Lucy broached the subject that had been on her mind.
“Gran, is there a manager on the farm?”
As she watched, Gran’s shoulders slumped. “There is. And that’s one of the first things I want you boys to check on. I think I might have been a bit harsh on young Mackenzie.”
Lucy narrowed her eyes. “Harsh?”
“I didn’t believe him. He came over here a couple of weeks ago and in a roundabout, polite way, he told me that he suspected Brian was stealing cattle. In the next breath, he offered to buy the farm, and I thought he was trying to undermine Brian for his own purposes. I sent Brian down to padlock the gate after that.”
Liam leaned forward with a frown. “And now you think he’s telling the truth?”
“As much as I hate to admit it, I think young Mackenzie may be right. While you were all down at the bore last night, I had a good look at the books. Harry usually looks after all that, but he’s been preoccupied lately, trying to cope with the pain.” Her face wrinkled in a frown, deepening the lines in a complexion ravaged by fifty years of hot western sun. “There is a huge discrepancy between the calves born last season and the steers sold at the last few sales.”
“Maybe he’s been fattening them for the next sale? Waiting for prices to go up?”
Three mouths dropped open, and Gran smiled as everyone turned to Sebastian.
“Thus speaks the country boy.” Liam’s voice held no sarcasm this time; it was full of admiration.
A flush settled on Seb’s high cheekbones. “Just because I live in the city doesn’t mean I’ve lost touch with the ways of the country.”
“Me neither,” Liam added with a guilty smile. “I checked the cattle prices every day I was in England. Streamed ABC Radio on the internet.”
“What about the time difference? Wasn’t that the middle of the night over there?” Seb sounded sceptical.
“Midnight in London,” Liam said with a smile. “Brought me home each night before I went to sleep.”
Seb looked at him thoughtfully, and a smile tilted Gran’s lips. “So you’re both well placed to start learning the daily routine. Your grandfather will be very pleased.” She sto
od, and Seb and Liam jumped to their feet. “No time like the present. Let’s go to the office now and you can tell me whether you think Brian McDermott has been dudding us.”
Chapter Ten
By nine o’clock the next morning, the manager had been dismissed, and the police had been informed of the missing cattle. Jemima and Lucy were left in charge of the kitchen while Gran set off on horseback to the back paddocks with Liam and Seb cantering beside her. Together they would see how much stock was left.
“Look at her, Luce. She’s better on horseback than the guys are.” Jemima wrapped the scones in the tea towel and placed them in the box. “Are you still scared of horses?”
“Not scared so much, but I hate being up high on them and not having any control of where they go.” She gave a rueful grin. “But I guess I’m going to have to get over that.”
“You know”—Jemima leaned back on the kitchen bench and crossed her arms—“I’m really looking forward to coming back here. I’ve even been thinking I might move back for good.”
“But what about your career?” Surprise filled Lucy as she looked at her cousin’s manicured fingernails and perfectly styled hair.
Jemima shrugged. “I’ve done well enough already to set me up for life. You know, I’ve felt more settled since I’ve been back here in the last two days than I have for years. I’m over international airports, living out of hotel rooms, and parading clothes for the rich and famous.”
“Half your luck. You’re younger than me and my career has only just started to take off. This current campaign will set me on the path to success…hopefully.” Lucy paused as she filled the last thermos with boiling water. “But you’re right, I think we all needed to come back to sort out what we all want to do. The longer we stayed away the harder it became to come home. I guess losing our mums added to that.”
“What about you, Lucy? Could you ever come back here to live?”
As Lucy shook her head emphatically, an image of Garth Mackenzie’s face filled her thoughts. “No. You know me. The flies, the dust, the prickles.” She waved a hand towards the paddocks they could see through the window. “Not what I want at all.”