Fiery Possession (2 page)

“There's no school of any type here as far as I know.”

“I'll open one.”

“Jo,” he groaned. “Don't start any of your mad schemes out here.”

She ignored this. A scheme for a school was sensible. Every child should have an education regardless of the wealth of their parents. “Tell me about this Campton character?”

“Be careful of him.” Ian tightened his grip on the reins. “He's the most powerful man in the district. His word is law.”

“Not with me it isn't.” She watched the passing countryside with interest. Thick scrub lined the track, and timbered mountains surrounded them on three sides. The swirling dust rising from the wheels of the buggy trailed behind them like a dirty brown ribbon.

“It’s inhospitable looking country.” She glanced around at the brown, sparsely grassed plains shimmering in the sun. “Are you far from town?”

He slapped the horse’s rump with the reins before answering. “About ten miles. We're situated in a pretty little valley, and if Campton hadn't dammed the creek everything would be all right. We're only getting a trickle of water through now.”

“Dammed the creek? He can't do that. Go to the law, have him arrested.” She banged her fist on the seat of the buggy.

“He and his cronies are the law out here. What the squatters say goes. This is an isolated community, miles away from any decent sized town and the local police are useless.”

“The squatters have only got as much power as people let them have. If all the farmers banded together…”

“Please, Jo, don't start anything, we're not in the city now.”

He gave a sudden boyish laugh. He was twenty-nine, yet worry made him seem years older. Anger against Luke Campton for persecuting him smoldered, but it burst into a flaming inferno when she remembered her body’s wanton, primitive reaction to him. How could she have such wicked feelings for someone so ruthless?

“Campton said you killed one of his prized rams.”

“I did.” He grimaced. “Accidentally. I heard some rustling behind a clump of bushes, mistook the ram for a kangaroo and fired. I suppose I should have checked first, but we were running low on meat and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity of getting something for the pot.”

Of course you should have checked. She bit her lip to stop the words from falling out of her mouth. He had always been careless and thoughtless, never stopping to think of the ramifications of his actions. Even though he was so much older, she had extricated him from so many scrapes over the years it became second nature to keep on rescuing him.

Undeterred by the searing heat pouring down from the vivid blue sky, colorful parrots of various hues wheeled overhead.

They came upon the farm, nestled against a backdrop of timbered mountains. The grass in the paddocks was brown, brittle-looking, with areas of bare earth giving it a patchwork appearance. The slab homestead had been weathered a silver grey by the elements. A spiral of smoke unfurling from the stone chimney drifted over the rooftop.

Fiona waited on the verandah for them. The moment they stopped, Jo leapt from the buggy and dashed toward the slim, fair girl.

“Jo, it's so good to see you.” Fiona hugged and kissed her.

“I’m glad to be here.”

“Doesn't your husband deserve a reward for bringing Jo here?”

Fiona wrapped her arms around Ian’s neck and pressed her mouth to his. Jo felt quite moved at the obvious love they shared. This is how it will have to be for me. She watched Ian kiss Fiona before he moved away to attend the horses.

The homestead appeared to be built of rough timber uprights that had been split down the middle, with the gaps between them filled with clay. Was that why the place had an earthy kind of smell, she wondered. The parlor, situated in the front of the house, smelt of beeswax polish. In the kitchen, a huge open fire with a carved over-mantel dominated one wall.

Hessian bags trimmed with colorful pieces of leftover material covered the dirt floors in an attempt to soften the primitive harshness of the room. Faded blue curtains, strung on a rope across the window, billowed in the hot breeze. She winced, but gave no outward sign of noticing how grim it all appeared as Fiona showed her around.

She ran her fingers over the familiar pieces of silverware that had belonged to her own mother. They gleamed proudly from the mantel. Fiona had obviously worked hard to turn this dreary place into a home.

“You do like the way we fixed things up, don't you?”  Her lips trembled. She was so eager to impress, so sweet, Jo hugged her.

“It's nice.” Jo stepped back. “I love those mats. Did you make them?”

“Yes, I did. There’s not much else to do at night.”

Ian needed a wife who could survive the terrible harshness of this country, work by his side and make their land profitable. Fiona could offer him none of this. She was born in Australia, but as an only child of doting parents, always had servants to wait on her. As she watched the gentle caress as their hands touched, the softening of the worry lines on her brother’s face when he gazed at his wife, it was hard to regret his choice of bride. They had little money, yet were happy with what they had. Jo had always been strong and fearless, but she’d accepted long ago that the clinging, helpless types like Fiona brought out the protective instincts in most men.

Her bedroom, a portion of the back verandah that had been enclosed, contained an iron bedstead with a colorful patchwork quilt. She rested her bonnet on a cedar dresser.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Several willful curls had escaped from the chignon she always wore and clung to her forehead, but the deep auburn color of her hair complemented her green eyes. She did not have the classic, fragile beauty of Fiona, but knew her appearance would be presentable once she washed off her travel dust.

During the last couple of years, a number of respectable suitors had tried to court her. There were two or three she quite liked, but they never stirred her heart. She had frozen off their tentative advances with the self-willed strength Ian maintained bordered on arrogance. She soon learnt nothing turned a suitor off quicker than a strong-willed woman who wouldn’t let a man dominate her.

Why should she change her nature?  There had to be a man somewhere prepared to treat her as an equal. Clinging femininity was not for her.

“Tea's ready.”

“Thanks, Fiona. I'm coming.”

Ian, seated at the scrubbed table, made to rise, but she waved him back. “Isn't my niece awake yet?”

“No, the hot weather seems to tire her.”

“Oh?” She glanced at Ian and saw the worry etched on his face. A delicate wife, a child and a large mortgage to the bank, he had every reason to be anxious.

“I'll look after them for you.” She squeezed his hand as it rested on the table.

“Who needs looking after?”  Fiona's questioning gaze encompassed both of them as she placed the teapot on the table. “I can do things like the other women when their men go off on cattle drives.”

“Well, of course you can, my darling. I didn't want you to be lonely,” Ian soothed. “Jo didn't like working in that Melbourne school.”

“I hated it,” she lied, answering her brother's unspoken plea. “I can't stand the city. I almost wrote a couple of times asking if I could stay for a while, but forced myself not to.”

“You can stay as long as you like. You’re the only relative I’ve got now dear Mama and Papa are dead.” Fiona blinked back tears.

“Thanks, you're sweet.” Jo reached across and squeezed her trembling hand. “If I get too bossy or try taking over, just sit on me hard, won't you?”  She laughed to lighten the moment. Fiona’s parents had been dead for three years, but she acted as if they had just passed away. She wasn’t being hard-hearted, but Fiona should look to the future, not dwell on the past. She had a husband and child to love.

I’ve got neither, and my parents are both dead, too. “Did Ian tell you about the coach being held up?”

“Yes. I would have fainted.”

“I still say we could have overpowered those brutes. Oh, let's forget it. I met up with your Mr. Luke Campton.”

Fiona giggled in an endearing, little girl way. “Ian said you argued. I don't know how you dared. He's the most powerful man for miles around. He frightens me and I've only met him a couple of times, but at least he’s a gentleman, not like some of those ill-bred men in town.”

Jo tossed her head. “I'm not frightened of him.” Not physically, but on an emotional level, her susceptibility to him terrified her. “He needs knocking off that pedestal he's placed himself on.”

“Be careful, sis, he's a bad enemy to have.  The squatters will stop at nothing to get what they want, and they want all small farmers out. There would be open warfare, except most of the homesteaders are too afraid to stand up to them.”

“Arrogant beast,” she flared. “Luke Campton won't stomp all over us.” 

Ian groaned. “You'll get us all hung one of these days.”  He gave a sudden grin. “I'd almost like to be there when you clash with him again.”

Did Luke Campton have many women in his life?  Of course, a wealthy, handsome man like him would. It annoyed her that she even thought of him at all. Could the love of a woman bring out any tenderness in him? Or was that cold, ruthless arrogance a cover for a softer side that he didn’t want exposed?

To push these unsettling thoughts out of her mind, she concentrated on remembering all the snippets of city gossip they might like to hear. Fiona followed the Melbourne fashions with avid interest. Although fashion as such held little interest for her, she tried to describe everything in detail. A sudden wail from the bedroom had Fiona hurrying off.

“Listen,” Ian whispered anxiously. “Watch out for Campton.  He's got it in for us, wants this place because of the creek. I haven't told Fiona, but the bank is pressing me for money, that's why I have to take this droving job. I used up all my capital and had to take out a loan. If the rain doesn’t come soon, I'm finished.”

She nibbled her lip. “I didn't realize things were so bad. Maybe I could get a job. There must be a school somewhere and I wouldn't mind travelling a few miles.”

“There's nothing. The wealthy have tutors for their children. Others learn what they can from their mothers, which in most cases isn't much at all. Some parents can't read or write themselves.”

A plan started germinating in her fertile brain. Before she could think on it some more, the blonde blue-eyed cherub toddling toward them diverted her attention.

“Come here, little princess.” Ian swung her up in his arms. “Meet Auntie Jo.”

At first Lucy acted reticent in Jo's presence, burrowing her head in her father’s shoulder, but she soon persuaded the little girl to sit on her knee. Lucy gabbled away in a baby language none of them could understand.

“You’re so beautiful.” Jo buried her face in the sweet smelling curls. “I could eat you all up, you little angel.”

“She is beautiful. I love babies. I’ll give her something to eat.” Fiona lifted Lucy out of Jo’s arms.

Later, Ian showed her around the property, sparsely grassed, except for the area by the creek. The timber outbuildings and stockyards had a slight list to them, palings and posts were missing, but with no money to employ someone to help, it must be hard for a man trying to cope on his own. Stop making excuses for him.

“It could be a good, productive property given half a chance. The few fences I fixed up got knocked down again, and my stock wandered off. The squatters impounded most of them. We couldn't afford pound dues, so I had to give a bill of sale. There's less than thirty head of cattle left now. I know the squatters have been taking them, but without proof, well...” His shoulders slumped. “I caught young Tim Campton red-handed one day,” he added, bitterness edging his voice.

“Tim Campton?  Is he related to the other one?”

“Yes, half-brothers, so they say, anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Her interest fired up.

“I don’t know all the scandalous details.”

She refrained from pressing him further because he wouldn’t have bothered to find out, but Fiona would know. She liked gossip as much as the next woman.

“Young wretch laughed in my face when I threatened to report him.  The Magistrate's a friend of the family, besides; big brother Luke protects him all the time.”

“They both sound horrible.”

“Tim's parents are both dead. Luke's not married but he reared the boy from the age of about twelve. There's more than eighteen years difference in their ages. Father married twice, apparently.”

“Let's forget about them.” She didn’t want to think about Luke Campton it unsettled her, and she didn’t like to be unsettled when it came to men. “What horses have you got?”

“There's a couple for stock and two for the plough. With a decent team I could plant more wheat. As it is, I've only got a few acres sown.” 

“Come on, it isn't like you to be so down. I'm here to help now.”

“My sister is not a field hand.”

“Don't be so stuffy.  Women pitch in and do their share on the smaller places, that's a well known fact.”

“You're different, you weren't meant for this.”  He waved his arm about in a wide arc. “You're educated and need to marry well.”