Tiredness dulled the usual glow of Ella’s brown eyes.
‘Yes. There’s already been livestock losses. I’ve just checked over a dog that was trapped with its owner when their car was swept off a causeway. The SES had to use the bucket of an excavator to lift the woman and kelpie to safety.’
‘The water must have been running fast. I’m glad they’re okay. When did you last sleep?’
‘I had a few hours last night.’ Ella reached for Fliss’s shovel as she finished filling the sandbag. ‘I hear you had a busy afternoon yesterday. I’m so pleased you were there. I can’t imagine what Kellie would have gone through giving birth alone, especially if things had gone wrong.’
Fliss held open Ella’s bag for her to fill. ‘I’m so grateful Hewitt got me there in time. In the end I didn’t really do anything. Kellie did all the work.’
Ella stopped digging to return Hewitt’s wave from where he sat on the orange forklift. The vet glanced at Fliss before she continued shovelling.
‘You’re not going to let him go, are you?’
Fliss heard the pain in Ella’s voice. Whatever had happened overseas still left deep emotional scars. Ella wasn’t even close to wanting a new relationship.
‘No, I won’t. I promise. I’m not sure exactly what shape our lives will take when Hewitt leaves, but I do know that without him my life wouldn’t be the same.’
Ella gave her a quick hug. ‘It shouldn’t be any other way. Anyone could see the two of you were meant for each other.’
They filled three more bags before the volunteers around them put their shovels down, many rubbing at their lower backs. Fliss swapped smiles with people she knew and didn’t know. The solidarity of the bush in times of crisis made her glad she lived where she did. It didn’t matter if her mother, and likely her biological father, had been raised in the city, the outback was where she belonged. It’d taken a heartbreaking loss and much soul-searching but she now had no doubts about where her future lay. Just like Cressy, it was in the rolling hills and the close-knit rural community of where they’d grown up.
Janet approached with a group of ladies carrying baskets of food and drinks. Fliss removed her gloves. When the flood crisis eased she’d visit Dr Sam and discuss what she needed to do to make working in Woodlea a reality. The town would then have one less rural doctor to find.
She glanced at Hewitt as he used the forklift to lift a pallet of sandbags. It wasn’t the right time now, his family needed him, but she’d heard the farm next to hers might come up for sale. The next generation had all made lives elsewhere. The property had twice as much land as Bundara and contained valuable river flats and irrigation pivots. There’d been pictures of similar river flats in Hewitt’s home office.
She accepted a cream-topped scone from Freya, the new teacher in the one-teacher school west of town at Reedy Creek. Zoe already spoke highly of Miss George. With her glossy auburn hair, quiet eyes and pretty smile Fliss could see why she’d won over her tiny students as well as the youngest Ridley boy.
She left Ella talking to Freya to go over to where Hewitt and Tanner were standing beside the forklift. Whatever they were talking about appeared serious. Tanner clasped Hewitt’s shoulder before he stepped forwards to hug her.
‘So, Dr Fliss, how does it feel to be the local hero?’
‘I’m no such thing. Kellie did all the work and is the one everyone should be proud of.’ She looked around. ‘Besides, everyone here helping out with the floods is a local hero.’
‘I agree. But you are still a hero among heroes. Babies scare me more than that bull of your sister’s.’
‘Not you too. I thought you’d be fine with Reggie? Look at the horse you ride. Arrow isn’t exactly bomb proof.’
‘Arrow’s a lamb compared to Reggie. I offered him carrots and he refused to eat them.’ Tanner shot Hewitt an aggrieved look. ‘He gave me this glare as if to say I shouldn’t even think about trying to befriend him and stalked off.’
Fliss pressed a hand to her stomach to stop her laughter from taxing muscles she’d overused while digging. ‘Here I am thinking you’re a tough guy. Ask Hewitt, Reggie’s harmless and as for babies, you just haven’t met the right person yet.’
Tanner shuddered. ‘Babies and Reggie, that’s the stuff nightmares are made of.’
Fliss was still laughing when Edna called her name. ‘Felicity.’
Tanner lowered his voice. ‘Actually, I’d include Edna on that list. The word around town is Bethany’s now officially single as she’s given her city boyfriend the boot.’
Fliss didn’t have a chance to reply before Edna’s strong perfume engulfed her and she was crushed against her ample chest. ‘Felicity, or should I say Doctor Felicity. Well done on delivering Kellie’s baby.’
Fliss pulled away before she was smothered. ‘Thank you. I was at the right place at the right time.’
‘You’ve always been so humble.’
Fliss blinked.
Edna continued on, without drawing breath. ‘But so misguided. You’d have made Rodger the perfect wife.’
Hewitt and Tanner worked hard to keep a straight face.
‘Edna,’ she said firmly. ‘You know I wouldn’t have. I’m too bossy.’
Edna patted Fliss’s cheek. ‘Exactly.’ She frowned at Hewitt. ‘You have a special one here so make sure you take care of her. Did I tell you I happen to know Mrs Quigley who knows your mother?’
‘No, you haven’t, but it’s no surprise you know Mrs Quigley.’ Tone wry, Hewitt slipped an arm around Fliss. ‘Just like you, she knows everyone.’
‘Of course she does. We’re both such social butterflies. Now …’ Edna’s expression assumed her commander-in-chief focus. ‘I have horses that need to be moved. They are at Old Clarry’s. He’s had a fall and is up on the hill with Dr Sam. They are his daughter’s horses, the one that left town with the miner. I’m not sure how many there are, but they need to go into the paddocks behind the house.’
‘Hewitt and I’ll go.’ Fliss didn’t need to glance at him to know he’d be thinking the same thing.
‘Thank you. I’ll cross the horses off my list.’ Edna’s crisp voice softened. ‘The back road to Bundara is open but if it closes and you can’t get to Cressy’s, Bethany’s at home and our spare beds are made up.’
‘Thanks.’
Edna’s gaze sharpened. ‘Of course, Rodger’s room’s out of bounds.’
Fliss sighed. Her reprieve from feeling the brunt of Edna’s wounded pride had ended. ‘Of course.’
Edna turned to Tanner, a gleam in her eyes. ‘Now, Tanner.’ Edna took his arm, giving him no choice but to walk with her. ‘I saw you having several dances with Bethany at the ball.’
Hewitt shook his head. ‘Our local queen bee, Mrs Quigley, has nothing on your Edna Galloway.’
‘Tell me about it. I must say she’s full of surprises. I had no idea she cared.’
‘By threatening me with gossip to make sure I don’t do the wrong thing by you?’
Fliss laughed. ‘No, by offering us a bed to sleep in.’ She looked across to where Edna kept a firm grip on Tanner’s arm. ‘Do you think we need to rescue him?’
‘No, Taylor’s arrived and by the looks of it she’s braving Edna to run a rescue mission.’
As they watched, whatever Taylor said to Edna made her press her hand to her chest with false modesty. Tanner slipped his arm free and, after a thumbs up to Taylor, strode away before Edna could latch onto him again.
Lightning flashed on the storm-dark horizon before distant thunder grumbled. Hewitt flicked on his headlights. It was early afternoon but the poor light made it feel much later.
Fliss stifled a yawn. ‘I don’t know why I’m so tired.’
‘It’s not every day you shovel a pallet load of sand.’
Fliss flexed her fingers. ‘My hands are telling me that’s very true.’ She gazed out the window, expression pensive. ‘I hope there are enough sandbags. There’s so much water.’
Puddles pooled across the road and along the roadsides. The soil was at saturation point. Water covered low-lying land and, in the creeks they passed, swollen streams rushed to go someplace new. Crops were waterlogged, pastures flattened, fences under threat and stock displaced. Hewitt slowed as they came to the Bell River whose power had once carved out the fertile valley. The bridge arched over the surging mass of water and a heavy round bale of hay bobbed as it was swept along.
Hewitt let the conversation lapse so Fliss could relax. She rested her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. His gaze lingered on the beauty of her profile.
Warmth flowed through him. Words couldn’t describe how the past few days had been being with her. It was time to admit the dream that had always gone hand in hand with buying his land had a face and a name. Fliss. Right from the start she’d affected him like no other woman ever had. She filled the vast loneliness behind his restlessness. She centred him, grounded him, and made him feel deep emotions of happiness, joy, contentment. He could spend a lifetime loving her and it wouldn’t ever be enough.
He stared at the low-lying cloud cover beyond the windscreen. But the admission that what he felt for Fliss was love didn’t usher in any sense of release or freedom. Instead, emptiness chilled him. Once he received the all-clear on his broken shoulder his time at Bundara would end. He’d be lying if he said he shared Fliss’s faith there could be a way forward. On the rodeo circuit he’d seen firsthand how distance could corrode even the strongest relationships. Just like the rail tracks running west to Mayfield, their lives could prove impossible to merge.
She’d turned her run-down farm into a home not only for herself but for Max, Molly and Flame. It had been to Cressy and the Woodlea community that Fliss had run in her time of uncertainty and need. He could no more ask her to leave than he could abandon his family. Even with the improvement in his father’s health, and Dean being with Ava, it could be years before Hewitt would be free to lead his own life.
Fliss shifted in her seat. Her eyes opened as they passed an ornate farm entrance with a fancy scrolled steel gate.
He relaxed his tense grip on the steering wheel. Fliss couldn’t know of his fears or his doubts. ‘Let me guess … Edna’s place?’
‘Yes. After Mrs Knox updated her front gate Edna decided her entrance also needed a makeover. Old Clarry’s will be the next farm over the hill and after the cattle yards.’
When they turned past the battered old mailbox, water already covered the dirt road. On the high ground on the other side of the gully stood a farmhouse. Black cows, with a white band around their middle, occupied the house yard and had made themselves at home on the veranda.
Fliss smiled. ‘That’s Old Clarry for you. He lives alone and his Belted Galloways are like his family. I can’t see any horses, though.’
Hewitt drove through the water, maintaining a steady pace as spray funnelled over the ute. The wipers worked hard to clear the windscreen.
He glanced to his right. ‘There’s two on that strip of land near the fence. I can see why Clarry was worried. They’re already hoof-deep in water.’
‘From their size they’re thoroughbreds. Imagine if Minty was here—the water would be over his little fetlocks.’
When Hewitt stopped at the front gate, Fliss reached behind her seat for her glossy black gumboots. ‘I thought these might come in handy.’
Organised Fliss was always thinking ahead. No wonder she and Lizzie got on so well.
Fliss opened and closed the gate. Hewitt parked near the machinery shed on a patch of gravel. His getting bogged days were over.
He left the ute to scan the farm yard. The five cattle occupied the large house yard, leaving two small paddocks behind the house. Each had a tin lean-to so whichever paddock they put the horses in they would have shelter. Behind a shed door he found a tack room. He grabbed two full-sized halters and lead ropes and returned to see that Fliss had opened the gate into the closest spare paddock. All they had to do was catch the horses, lead them past the ute, sheds and house and their job would be done.
But as they walked through the mud to the swollen creek, Hewitt’s unease grew. The two bay thoroughbreds jostled against each other on the wet strip of land, the whites of their eyes showing. One of the horses neighed, a shrill, piercing sound.
‘Fliss, be careful. This isn’t going to be easy.’
‘It’s okay.’ She slid her hand into the pocket of her lightweight navy jacket. ‘I brought some bribery. I kept an apple from our afternoon break.’
‘They don’t look like they’ve been handled in a while. The gear in the tack room was dusty.’ He glanced at Fliss, already knowing her answer. ‘How about you stay here at the gate? I’ll get the one with the star on his forehead. The mare looks like she’ll follow.’
‘I don’t think so.’ She shot him a firm look. ‘I didn’t bring my gumboots for nothing.’
The mare took a step towards them as though seeking their help. The longer they delayed the more anxious and unpredictable the horses would be.
‘Okay. But if things get hairy look after yourself. I’ll be fine.’
Fliss didn’t answer, just started walking.
Together they waded through the water until they reached the horses. Hewitt talked to the spooked gelding to gain his trust, remaining acutely aware of where Fliss was. One kick from a terrified horse and Fliss could end up in the hospital with Old Clarry.
The thoroughbred gelding shook beneath Hewitt’s touch but allowed him to slide on the halter and slip the noseband into place. The mare flicked her tail but stood still so Fliss could also put her halter on. She sniffed at the apple Fliss offered but didn’t take a bite.
‘Ready?’ he asked, voice low.
‘Ready.’
The gelding proved reluctant to walk into the fast-flowing water but with gentle encouragement he followed Hewitt. Water splashed as Fliss and the mare left the higher ground. Hewitt looked over his shoulder. Fliss had let a safe space open up between them. She worked hard to keep the mare walking at a sensible pace as the bay surged ahead, her snorts nervous and loud.
When the gelding’s hooves cleared the water and he saw the open gate ahead, his ears pricked forwards. Fliss and the mare left the floodwater and walked up alongside them. Both horses now appeared calmer and glad to be on firm ground.
Fliss sent him a smile.
An agitated neigh trumpeted from behind them. Jaw tight, Hewitt spun around. A third horse left the trees to gallop towards them. He held on to the gelding’s halter as the thoroughbred threw his head up, ears flattened.
Fliss’s mare’s nostrils flared as she pranced and side-stepped. Fliss rubbed her neck and led her towards the gate to make room for the additional horse.
The chestnut ploughed through the floodwater. This horse was trouble. Large and big-framed, there was a reason why he’d been by himself and why the mare had partially healed marks on her legs.
Hewitt looked for Fliss. ‘Watch this one with your mare. He’s bad news.’
‘I will.’ Fliss kept the flighty mare walking.
Hewitt led the gelding forwards. They needed to get the horses through the gate where there’d be more room. The front farm gate was closed, so the third horse would be safe running loose. There’d been a bag of lucerne chaff in the tack room and experience told Hewitt that’s what they needed to catch the rogue chestnut.
Hoofbeats thundered as the horse left the water.
‘Easy there.’ Hewitt soothed the gelding as he shied at a falling leaf.
The chestnut came in from the right, bucking and kicking. Ears pinned back, he crowded the gelding who lashed out an unshod hind hoof. A thud sounded. The herd bully didn’t slow. Focused on the mare in front of him, his head snaked forwards.
Hewitt yelled. ‘Fliss—’
The chestnut’s overgrown teeth fastened on the mare’s rump. She squealed and lunged sideways, knocking Fliss over.
Hooves flashed, colour blurred, and th
e two horses were gone.
Fliss lay on the ground.
Hewitt didn’t know he’d again called her name until the echo penetrated the fog of his horror. This time he wasn’t in a rodeo arena. This time there was no devil of a bull. But this time it was the woman he loved who lay broken on the ground.
Not taking his eyes off her, Hewitt unclipped the lead from the gelding’s halter. The horse galloped to the left of Fliss and over to where the chestnut chased the mare.
Hewitt covered the ground in three strides and sank to his knees. Against the darkness of the mud, Fliss’s skin appeared white and her lips colourless. Blood pooled at her temple and trailed a vivid red path across her cheek. He bent to check she was breathing.
Nothing.
Fear strangled his own breaths.
Then her lashes fluttered.
‘Hewitt?’
‘I’m here.’ His voice was nothing more than a hoarse rasp. ‘Lie still.’
‘I’m fine, just … winded.’ She touched a hand to her head then reached for his arm. ‘I need … to sit up.’
He eased her into a sitting position and she pulled her knees to her chest. He tugged off his collared woollen jumper and wrapped it around her shoulders. Blood dripped from her jaw.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. ‘Are you right while I get that fancy first-aid kit of yours?’
The corners of her mouth briefly tilted.
Once he’d pressed a wad of cotton dressing against her temple, the blood flow slowed, then stopped. Colour returned to her lips and cheeks. He made another trip to his ute for her makeup bag.
She used a small mirror to examine her wound. ‘I don’t need a steri-strip or any stitches.’ Her eyes met his. ‘And I definitely don’t need to go to the emergency department.’
Hewitt didn’t answer. The cold fear inside him hadn’t yet thawed.
‘I’m okay, Hewitt, really.’ She touched his cheek. ‘It looks far worse than it is. Scalp wounds can bleed a lot, even if they are only minor.’
He caught her fingers and kissed the inside of her wrist. It continued to be a struggle to speak.
She looked around. ‘You were right. This wasn’t easy. Where are the horses?’
The Red Dirt Road Page 26