‘Maybe.’ He frowned, uneasy.
For the rest of the way, he kept his ears pricked, but heard nothing more. By the time they arrived back at the house, he was tempted to dismiss the niggling worry. It was late. He was tired. There was probably nothing. But he still couldn’t let it go.
‘Goodnight, Katrina,’ he said, halting on the steps.
‘You’re not coming in?’
‘Not yet. I’ll go down and make sure everything’s all right at the stables.’
She took one step, then turned back.
He looked at her face, her cheeks, her lips. He imagined reaching out and running his fingers through her hair. He wondered what she would do if he tried to kiss her. Suddenly, he felt compelled to pull her into his arms and tell her everything would be all right. But how could he tell her that, when he didn’t know himself? Now wasn’t the time for intimacy.
He flicked the torch on the ground, glad he had something practical to attend to. ‘Thanks again for being so open with me. I know it can’t have been easy.’
‘That’s okay,’ she said in a small voice, turning away. She stepped inside and was swallowed by the darkness.
* * *
But it wasn’t okay.
Katrina retreated to her room, the shame of having been so open with him washing over her. If he didn’t already think she was crazy, he surely would now. Why did she think he might understand something which had taken her years to come to terms with, which her own mother hadn’t believed, which part of her still found difficult to accept?
She shouldn’t have expected it of him.
But what choice did she have? She had to tell him. He’d seen her in hospital. He knew the worst of it. And he’d asked her for the truth. What he thought of her now was out of her hands. She shouldn’t have got her hopes up, thinking he might be different, that he might understand, or care.
She climbed into bed and hugged the pillow. Closing her eyes, she imagined she could still see the millions of stars overhead, hear Jack’s breathing beside her. A heartbeat later, she imagined the whisper of his kiss as his lips touched hers.
She tossed the pillow away, angry at herself and her fantasies. Visions she could handle. But she had to be crazy to keep dreaming something good could happen between her and Jack Fairley. Even if she could forgive him for what he’d done, what made her think he would want her now?
* * *
Jack approached the stables, his torch flicking over the wooden sheds and bails.
The corral was empty. The stallion was gone.
But how? The horse couldn’t have jumped the fence. There wasn’t enough room. He pushed the gate and it swung back. Unlatched. This was no accident. Someone had set the brumby free deliberately.
After making sure everything else was in order, he headed back up to the house and grabbed his keys. He’d drive across to the stables on Gwen’s property and check on the prize mare. He didn’t want to take any chances. The horse was part of a selective breeding program that stretched back to the foundation mare of the early days of Yarrangobilla. She was too valuable to be put at risk by a rogue brumby.
A few hundred metres down from the new homestead, he parked the four-wheel-drive on the dirt track beside the stables. Torch shining, he checked inside. The mare was safe in her stall, with no sign of any disturbance. Whinnying, she leaned her head over the rails and nudged him as he passed. He stopped and stroked her nose, his hand drifting down to the velvety patch between her nostrils, her breath hot on his hands.
‘Can you smell him, Princess?’ he murmured, scratching her forelock.
The brumby was probably in the hills by now. But Jack didn’t want him coming back and spooking the mare. He’d arrange for a float to take her across to the stud the following day.
With the stable door securely shut, he headed back to the truck. Drifting down from the homestead, he heard a peal of high-pitched laughter. He looked up through the darkness. A yellow light winked from the back veranda. Had it been on before?
He frowned. Wayne had company for the night. The laugh sounded like Sandra’s. Were the two of them an item now? Firing up the four-wheel-drive, he accelerated away, angry with himself and with the world. The truth was, he was jealous. He was sick of spending his nights alone. He longed for a woman’s company, and not just any woman.
By the time he got back he was dead tired, though not too tired to pass Katrina’s bedroom and pause by her door. He leaned against the hallway wall and imagined he could hear her soft breathing.
What the hell was he doing? Nothing she had told him that night changed the way he felt. He still wanted her. But maybe he was going about this all the wrong way, trying to protect her from the past, instead of opening to the possibilities of the future. Could it be a whole lot simpler than he was making it?
He wanted her. Nick needed a mother. What if he could get Katrina to want them both in return?
He headed back along the hall and took the stairs two at a time, feeling lighter.
Perhaps there was a way.
Chapter 12
That night, Katrina had another dream.
This time, she was walking with Jack in the mountains. The air was so cold it was almost painful to breathe. Tiny wildflowers grew at her feet. A stream ran with crystal water, carving its way through the heath. On a rock way up above them reared the silver brumby, its mane glinting in the sun.
Before she knew it, she was riding the white horse, her hair flying in the wind. Jack was behind her, his legs against her thighs. But despite his reassuring presence, she was terrified. They began careening bareback, with no reins, down a narrow track on the hillside. No way to change direction or pull up the galloping horse. Sheer cliffs fell away on either side of the track, plunging into the valley.
To her astonishment, the horse was sure-footed and they didn’t fall. She felt the power of the horse beneath her, and Jack’s words in her ear, telling her to relax and enjoy the ride.
When she woke up, she knew at once she wouldn’t be catching the plane that day. She knew what she wanted now. She wanted Jack Fairley. No matter how dangerous her desire, it made her feel alive. She wanted to live life to the full. With him. No matter what the risk.
But how was she going to make her dream come true?
* * *
Nick was in the kitchen when she came out for breakfast. Still in his pyjamas, he was putting out bowls of cereal.
‘Mike’s gone to the market, so Dad said I’m to look after you,’ he announced in a grown-up voice. He picked up the nearest cereal packet. ‘Which would you like? Coco Pops, or Fruit Loops?’
She raised her eyebrows at what he’d chosen.
‘I think I might just have toast this morning, Nick.’ Repressing a smile, she reached for a loaf of bread.
Jack came in a few minutes later and said good morning, but his manner was distant. Her mind went back to what she had told him last night. Was he still thinking about that? Was that what was bothering him? Did he think she was crazy? Well, she wasn’t. And she wasn’t going to apologise for herself. Not anymore. She had to face her fears head on.
‘Everything okay, Jack?’ she asked.
‘Nothing I can’t handle.’ He grabbed a piece of toast and sat at the head of the table.
‘How’s the brumby stallion?’
He frowned. ‘It got away last night,’ he said, pouring a mug of tea. ‘Which means I’ll need to float the mare across to the stud this afternoon, if I can find anyone to mind Nick for me. I’ve had the devil of a time arranging childcare since the nanny left.’
‘Oh!’
It was on the tip of her tongue to offer to help, but she stopped herself. If he didn’t ask her directly, did that mean he didn’t trust her to look after his son, after what she’d told him? She gritted her teeth, impatient with her own thinking. Why was she always second guessing everything?
‘If you like —’
‘Can I watch the float, Dad?’ the boy asked.
> ‘Not this time, sunshine. There are a few other things I need to do. Business things.’
‘Maybe Katina can look after me?’ Nick turned to her, tilting his head. ‘You don’t really want to go home, do you?’
‘Well, I was just —’
‘Sorry, buddy,’ Jack interrupted, ‘but Katrina has to get back to work and she’s already delayed her flight a couple of times already. We couldn’t ask her to do it again. Much as we’d love her to stay.’
She stiffened at the dismissal.
‘That’s right, isn’t it, Katrina?’ Jack turned her way. ‘You have to go? We’ve already imposed on you.’
‘Do you have to go, Katina?’ the boy asked.
A mischievous energy rose within her. She was tired of accepting what fate dealt her. She was tired of hiding herself and running away from challenges. How could people accept who she was, unless she stood up for herself with pride? The words she’d heard at Murray Tom’s came back to her. Be afraid, and you’ll find things to fear. She wasn’t going to be afraid any longer.
‘Actually, I was just going to say that I’d love to mind you, Nick,’ she said, ruffling the boy’s hair. ‘I have an open return ticket. As for my work, with my laptop I can do that anywhere. I’d be glad to stay another day. That is, if your father trusts me to look after you,’ she added, swerving to stare directly at Jack.
A spark of satisfaction flared in his green eyes, as if that was exactly the answer he’d been hoping for. She sucked in a breath. Had she been manipulated?
‘Goody!’ Nick cried.
‘I have to take a look at the tractor this morning,’ Jack said with the hint of a grin. ‘Why don’t you both come down to the shed while I work. You can collect the eggs.’
‘Can Mike can make omelettes for lunch?’ Nick asked. ‘Mike’s omelettes are the best, Katina.’
‘I reckon so. If we’re going to fit everything in, you’d better finish that up and get dressed quick smart, eh sunshine?’ Jack laughed.
‘You bet,’ the boy said, tucking into his bowl.
Katrina looked from one to the other, wishing her life were as simple as it was for the six-year-old. The boy finished his cereal in record time and disappeared upstairs. Jack buttered another piece of toast.
‘I didn’t want to say anything in front of Nick,’ he said, ‘but that brumby was let go last night deliberately. I have no idea who did it, but I intend to find out. That’s why I don’t want him to come with me this afternoon. I appreciate you agreeing to look after him.’
A small fizz of relief bubbled up from her heart. He didn’t doubt her ability to look after his son. He trusted her, in spite of what she’d told him.
‘You don’t think the brumby’s disappearance is connected with Nick getting lost, do you?’
‘Why? You haven’t sensed anything?’
‘No,’ she said, surprised he was taking her gift seriously. ‘I just wondered if it had any bearing.’
He shook his head. ‘I doubt it. Some animal rights activists were hanging round at the fair, apparently, protesting about our use of the brumbies in the rodeo. They probably found out I still had the stallion and decided to score points by letting him go. You’ll let me know if you do sense anything, though, won’t you?’
‘Of course,’ she said, hope blossoming in her heart.
* * *
While Katrina went to the laundry to find another pair of boots, Jack checked his messages. Councillor Tarranto had phoned again, saying it was urgent.
When he dialled the councillor’s number, Tarranto got straight to the point.
‘I looked over your tender. I’m not saying anyone did anything unethical, Jack. But let me just say that there were aspects of your proposal which weren’t exactly new to me. The major points, the innovations, I’d already seen in the rival proposal. The two are essentially the same, but the other one comes in slightly cheaper.’
Jack frowned, his grip tightening round the phone.
‘You’re saying I’ve lost the tender. I’ve been undercut.’
‘I’m sorry, Jack.’
‘Look, Gus. I don’t have a problem with that. As long as there’s development providing jobs for the locals and bringing tourists to the area, I don’t care who runs it. But if you’re implying the other group has some kind of inside information…’
‘I’m not implying anything. I just wanted to give you the heads up. After your boy going missing, you deserve that, at least.’
‘Who’s backing this other group?’ Jack asked.
‘I can’t reveal that till the process is complete,’ the councillor told him. ‘But, let’s just say, maybe you should consider looking close to home.’
Jack rang off and sat back. Look close to home. What did that mean? Wayne didn’t have the kind of money to back a big development. And Tarranto couldn’t mean Gwen, could he?
It was years since Gwen had resigned herself to accepting Jack’s charity, living off a small legacy from her own side of the family which supplemented the allowance he gave her. At first after her husband Ted’s death, her resentment had festered. She had seemed destined to become bitter and twisted, always looking back to the good old days.
It was understandable: disappointment in Ted’s weakness, along with the loss of her wealth and property, not to mention her grief over her only daughter’s illness and eventual death. When she moved across to the new house, she’d seemed to come to terms with her life. Jack thought she was content, even if she was short-tempered at times.
Could she have come into some money he didn’t know about and was now seeking to reclaim some status by undercutting his bid? No. She wasn’t capable of that. For all the superior act she bunged on, Gwen was all right, when it came down to it. In any case, if she had done the dirty on him, it was out of his hands now.
* * *
Katrina sat on the veranda pulling the spare pair of boots over her cargo pants. She had stripped off her jacket, leaving only a tank top that barely met her waist.
The day was heating up. Already the cicadas were chirping in the gum trees, and the earth had a hard-baked smell, every crack and crevice begging for rain.
Jack appeared round the corner carrying a woven basket. ‘Ready to collect some eggs?’
‘Ready,’ she said, smiling.
‘Me, too,’ Nick said, appearing from inside. He jumped off the veranda.
She tested out the boots. They were a good fit. Better still, they supported her ankle.
Together, the three of them walked down the hot, dry track to the work sheds.
‘So, where’s the chook pen?’ she asked, looking around.
‘Their yard’s behind the shed. But Mike collected the eggs from the roost this morning. A couple of the hens have taken to laying in the machinery shed when we let them roam free, so that’s where we’ll find more.’
A pretty bantam strutted round the corner, its feathers shaggy tan and brown, its red comb flopping on one side.
‘We have to look all over, don’t we, Daddy?’ his son piped up. ‘Specially at the back where all the hay is. There’s probably heaps in there.’
The boy raced ahead, disappearing into a huge green shed, its roller door wide open, the tin roof baking in the sun. A tractor sat at the entrance, engine partly dismantled. Behind was a mountain of hay bales, looking precarious.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Jack said. ‘I need to check out the tractor motor.’
‘You don’t mean I’m meant to climb all the way up there?’ she asked as Nick started climbing.
‘Didn’t you say you were the daughter of a farm girl?’ Jack strode to the tractor, leaving her to face the task of negotiating the hay.
Katrina looked dubiously at the bales, then shrugged. Maybe she had inherited the right genes? Clambering up, she picked her way at first. The bales were surprisingly stable. Before long she joined Nick, shouting with excitement as they found the eggs in the hay. Creamy eggs, speckled eggs, eggs still smeared with fe
ather-down and slime. All so fragile, and yet so strong, too.
When the basket was half full, she lay stretched out on top of the bales, gazing down.
Jack was standing up on the tractor and leaning over the engine, stripped bare to the waist, the sunshine streaming in on his shoulders from the wide open door. With each movement his muscles flexed, showing his strength, his physical condition. His physique was less boyish than she remembered; he had more hair on his chest, and his shape was more bulky, more defined.
He looked up and saw her staring. She couldn’t pull her gaze away. Without breaking eye contact, he picked up a rag and wiped the grease off his hands, then tossed the cloth away. She moistened her lips. How could such a gesture seem so sexy?
‘How many have we got, Katina?’ Nick said, coming up behind her and depositing more eggs.
She looked in the basket. There was well over a dozen.
‘Plenty, I reckon,’ she said.
She began picking her way down. Nick jumped off the last bale and landed on loose straw. He giggled, pointing at her hair. ‘You’re growing hay.’
‘I’ll fix that.’ Jack walked over and plucked away the stalks.
She stood still in front of him, staring into his chest, her nostrils full of the sweet smell of hay, overlaid by the pungent scent of grease from the tractor and Jack’s sweat. The straw coming away from her hair was almost like a caress.
‘That’s better,’ he said.
She looked out the roller door into the bright day, to the stables and beyond them to the golden hills. Her heart swelled. Times like this, life seemed worth any amount of uncertainty, any amount of pain.
Nick showed Jack the basket. ‘Do you think we have enough, Da-da?’
‘More than enough.’ Jack smiled. ‘We have exactly what we need.’
* * *
Jack started back up the dirt track toward the house, his son on one side, Katrina on the other. He looked out at the fields. As far as he could see, the land was his. But it rarely gave him as much pleasure and satisfaction as the last half an hour had given him, watching Katrina and Nick laughing and chatting. Happy together.
Everything was going according to plan.
Snowy River Man Page 13