Blackpeak Station (5 page)

‘Salmon. Straight out of the canal this morning, so I’m told.’

The salmon was excellent, and so was the bottle of Cloudy Bay Rob opened to go with it. The conversation flowed easily onto rivers and trout and old summer holidays, and
by the time they’d made it onto the sofa and the pinot noir, Charlotte had forgotten all about her impractical dress and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to kick off Jen’s high heels and curl in under Rob’s arm.

His fingers stroked the line of her collarbone, slipping under the neck of her dress. ‘Don’t stop talking,’ he
murmured
into her hair.

It was some time later when Charlotte caught a glimpse of her watch. It was nearly one o’clock. ‘God, I hadn’t realised it was so late.’

Rob turned her wrist so that he could see too. ‘Me neither.’ His thumb moved over her palm.

‘I’d better be getting home.’

His other hand strayed down to her hip, running over the thin black silk. ‘I don’t think you should drive. Seriously.’

‘Mmm,’ said Charlotte, leaning back a little. ‘Seriously?’

‘We’ve powered through a fair bit of wine. You can sleep in the spare room if you like.’

‘That’s very kind.’ She looked up at him. ‘But no thanks.’

‘You don’t want to stay?’

‘I don’t want to sleep in the spare room.’

When the light filtered through the blinds the next morning, it took a moment for Charlotte to remember where she was. Then she saw the tousled blond head on the pillow beside her. Rob’s eyes were open, watching her.

‘Good morning,’ he said softly.

‘Good morning.’ She reached out, stroking the tips of her fingers over his chest.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Great.’ She smiled lazily. ‘Though I seem to remember I should have a cracking hangover. You?’

‘Never felt better.’ He kissed her. ‘I’ve been watching you sleep.’

Charlotte ran her hand down under the sheets. Oh … ‘You should have woken me.’

‘You looked far too sweet.’

Her hand moved a little more purposefully. ‘Sweet?’

‘Like butter wouldn’t melt.’ Gently but firmly, he pushed her over onto her back.

Charlotte left, reluctantly, just after six-thirty.

‘I’ll call you tonight,’ Rob said in the doorway, not letting go.

‘I’ll be there.’ She reached her hands up around his neck. ‘But I’ll have to go first.’

She drove home in a warm haze. So that’s what all the fuss was about — who knew? As the miles passed, her euphoria started to fade a bit as she thought of facing Jen, let alone Rex and Kath and Matt. She could tell them she’d had too much to drink and slept in Rob’s spare room, but she had a feeling the truth was written all over her face — and the rest of her body. She was wearing Rob’s checked shirt and a pair of his jeans and boxers and — thanks to last night’s dress — no bra, and the clothes smelled of him, like her skin.

Luckily, however, she arrived home to find no one in. She made herself a strong coffee to combat her lack of sleep and sat down to try to get a grip on the morning. What was it she was supposed to be doing today?

The phone rang. ‘Hi,’ said Rob.

Charlotte laughed. ‘Evening already, is it?’

‘I wish it was.’ His voice was growly and rough — tiredness and alcohol, no doubt, but God, it sounded good. ‘I just thought I’d make sure you got home safe and sound.’

‘I’m fine. A little bit sleepy.’

‘Me too. I think we should go back to bed.’

‘Great idea. But we’ve both got work to do.’

‘What are you doing tonight?’

‘Sleeping.’

‘Want some company?’

‘What the hell — why not?’

‘This is so grown up,’ Charlotte giggled, as Rob, wearing a pair of striped pyjama pants, came back from brushing his teeth and slid under the duvet.

‘Uhuh.’ He propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at her. It was the first time she’d seen him frown. ‘So … how grown up, exactly, are we?’

Crap. How old did he think she was? And how old was he? Twenty-five, twenty-six? ‘I’m twenty,’ she told him.

‘Yikes.’ His eyes widened in alarm. ‘God, last night wasn’t …?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself.’ Though she had to admit, it had been a stellar improvement.

Rob’s shoulders relaxed. He smiled. ‘So what was his name?’

‘Tom.’

‘Did you break his heart?’

‘Actually, he broke mine.’

Rob’s fingers traced the line of her sternum, resting between her breasts. ‘Poor baby.’ His fingers swept down. ‘You want me to find him and kick his arse?’

Charlotte, watching the muscles in his arm move, didn’t doubt that he could do it.

‘Thanks …’ She gasped as Rob’s lips began to follow the trail of his hand. ‘But you know what? I think I’m all good.’

Chapter
FIVE

The snow was late coming. The mustering gang had been gone for three weeks, and so far the tops had seen only the same cold grey drizzle that fell with such depressing regularity on the homestead and the river flats. Tucked up by the stove, her feet clad in three pairs of socks and resting on Rob’s knee, Charlotte watched through the window as Rex shook the rain from his hat and coat before coming inside.

‘See anything up there?’

‘Yeah.’ Rex took a mug of tea from Kath and warmed his hands around it. ‘There’s a mob of about thirteen cattle, I reckon, up the top of Fred’s Gully just to the west of the Peak. They must have been hiding out in that big block of scrub.’

‘The block I mustered, you mean?’ She sighed and stretched. ‘Well, they’ll have to come down.’ She took in the view through the rain-spattered windows — it wasn’t inviting. ‘I’ll go.’

Rex nodded. ‘Take someone with you, though, eh?’ He, too, peered out at the weather. ‘You never know when this stuff’s going to turn nasty.’

‘I’ll come,’ said Rob.

Charlotte looked at him dubiously. ‘Are you sure? It’ll take a couple of days.’

‘All the more reason for me to come too.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘We’re supposed to be having a long weekend — remember? I took Monday off?’

‘I know. Sorry. It’s just—’

‘Hey. Who wouldn’t want to go camping in weather like this?’

They set out after lunch, riding side by side across the flats and into the rain, a trio of dogs trailing behind them. They’d reach Fred’s Gully Hut by dark, recapture the cattle the muster had missed the following day, and on the next, bring them back down to the low country where they belonged, before the snows set in.

The track up into the bush-clad gully was steep. The horses picked their way up, hooves sliding on the wet ground. Charlotte surveyed their progress through a curtain of rain running down from the brim of her hat. The dogs jogged ahead, their hair plastered to their sides, bony shadows of their usual well-furred selves. Away to the left, the creek rushed loudly.

Charlotte’s horse slipped on a piece of wet schist, coming down on one knee and jolting Charlotte back to the task at hand. The track had got steeper. She dismounted, landing up to her ankles in mud, and led old Archie up. Behind her,
Rob did the same with his horse. The dogs scurried back, excited to see them on the ground.

After an hour or so, the track levelled out onto open tussock, and they were able to scrape the mud off their boots and remount. Still the rain fell, a little pattering heartbeat, constant as breathing. Ahead, the bush loomed wetly.

The heavy cloud cut the late-autumn day even shorter, and the light was nearly gone by the time they reached the hut. They worked quickly in the last of it, unpacking their gear, tending to the horses, fetching water and wood.

Charlotte lit the kerosene lamps and coaxed a fire out of the damp wood. She could barely make out Rob’s figure against the bush as he carried the billy cans down to the creek. In the hearth, the beech wood crackled and spat. Outside, she could hear the dogs shifting and scratching against the wall of the hut as they settled down for the night.

She removed her boots and put them to dry by the fire, then stripped off quickly, peeling away sodden socks, trousers and underwear. Her oilskin had been no match for five hours of rain.

‘I knew I’d come for a reason,’ grinned Rob, ducking in through the door. He hung the billies on the fire and took off his borrowed parka. As if on cue, the drumming of the rain on the roof redoubled.

Charlotte turned and reached down into her pack for a towel. ‘Come here,’ his voice growled behind her. ‘And let me do that.’

She turned back with a smile. He had to be kidding. She was exhausted — surely he must be too? Rob was standing in front of the fire, his shirt already off, the top two buttons of his jeans undone. The firelight played on his wet skin as he held out a hand to her. God, he looked good. Maybe she did have a little energy left. She took a step forward.

He took the towel from her, running it gently from the point of her jaw down between her breasts and on to her navel. Charlotte was pretty sure that Fred’s Gully Hut had never seen anything like this before — or at least, she hoped not.

‘Tired, babe?’ he murmured.

She nodded, though she wasn’t really feeling it now.

He smiled. ‘Let me take the weight off your feet.’ Lifting her up to meet his lips, he spun her round and pressed her back against the wall.

Oh … Charlotte ran her hands up his shoulders, the solid, muscular mass of his neck. He really did have the most spectacular upper body. As for the lower half … she ran her hands back down. High time she finished what he’d started with those jeans.

They rode out with the first rain-sodden light in search of the missing cattle. When Rex had spotted them from the neighbouring station’s helicopter yesterday, the mob had been on a small flat about two miles further up the gully, to the west of the creek. Now, however, they could be anywhere. Charlotte sighed as her horse picked his way through the dripping trees. Still, you never knew — if they were lucky, the wet weather might have encouraged the cattle to stay put.

And they were lucky. The mob was still on the flat, standing huddled together against the rain at the edge of the bush. Charlotte decided to take two of the dogs, cross the creek at a spot she knew further up, and come down behind the cattle, driving them back through the creek and turning them towards the hut. She left Rob with her best huntaway, George, to hold the high ground on the hut side, and rode up.

The ford was high. Charlotte sighed philosophically. She was going to get her feet wet again. The swift-flowing water swirled up around her horse’s forelegs, and he snorted nervously, struggling for each foothold among the rocks below. A final lurch, and they were through. Charlotte patted the horse’s neck.

‘Good old Archie. Well done, mate.’

The dogs shook the creek water out of their coats and followed silently as Charlotte rode carefully down to the edge of the bush.

With the cattle in sight, she sent Jess away to the right, to come at the mob from behind and drive them over the creek. It worked. Taken completely by surprise, they hurtled with commendable speed to the bank, where they hesitated, not keen to take on the swift water. But Charlotte and her second dog, Fly, blocked any escape upstream, and Jess held the ground below. A couple of intrepid beasts tried a break for the bush, but Jess was quicker.

Bellowing mournfully, the cattle plunged into the creek. Charlotte rode in close on their heels. The water was higher here, halfway up Archie’s chest, and the cattle’s eyes rolled in fright as the current strove to pull them down. At the back, a yearling hesitated too long and lost his feet. Swept along, he slammed into Archie’s flank. Briefly, Charlotte watched the sky recede through icy water. Hooves flurried around her. The sky went black.

Her lungs burned. She couldn’t see. Where was she? She couldn’t breathe. There was air around her, she felt pretty sure. So why weren’t her lungs filling? And why was it dark? Inhaling desperately, she retched up creek water. At last, the air came in.

Charlotte opened her eyes. Rob’s white face hovered above. Oh! She tried to sit up.

‘Shh, you just lie there for a bit.’ He rolled her gently onto her side and rested her head in his lap, stroking her sodden hair. ‘You’re okay now.’

Was she? She couldn’t feel anything. Just a terrifying numbness. What had happened to her? The world looked fuzzy. She closed her eyes again.

She woke as Rob struggled to get her onto his horse. ‘You’ve got to hold on tight for a minute now, Charlie, can you do that?’ She grasped groggily at the saddle pommel. Her legs — they weren’t working at all. It was as if they were someone else’s. Oh, what had she done? What if she couldn’t ride again? If she couldn’t drive? If she couldn’t
walk
? What would happen to Blackpeak then?

Rob climbed up behind her and took the reins. She relaxed against his body.

When she came round again, there was a fire and walls. She felt warm. It was nice. She drifted back to sleep.

At last, pain woke Charlotte fully. She looked round. She was lying in her sleeping bag on the floor of the hut, in front of the fire. Rob’s arms were around her. Apparently he was in the sleeping bag, too. He raised himself up on one elbow and smiled down at her. ‘Hey, you. How are you doing?’

She tried to move, and groaned. Okay.
Now
she could feel her legs. One of them more than the other.

‘No, see, you have to stay still. I think you might have broken your leg.’ He put a hand on her forehead. ‘And you’ve probably got concussion.’ He smiled. ‘There’s a great hoofprint just above your eye.’

Was that all? A broken leg? Thank Christ. ‘What happened?’

‘You were bringing the cattle through the creek and a calf crashed into you. Archie went under, and he must have kicked you in the head while he was trying to get up …’

‘Archie!’ Charlotte struggled to sit up. ‘What happened to Archie? Is he okay?’

Rob gently restrained her. ‘Archie’s fine, he’s right outside.’

Charlotte relaxed. ‘So what happened then?’

‘Well, I see you go under, so I come charging in to get you.’ Rob laughed. ‘I’m diving around frantically, I come up for air, and standing there on the bank is Archie, with you dangling from one stirrup.’

Charlotte laughed, and winced. ‘God, no wonder
everything
hurts so much.’

‘Yes, well, it wasn’t funny at the time, I can tell you.’ He stroked the hair away from her bruised forehead. ‘There aren’t many people who can say they owe their lives to their boots being too big for their stirrups.’

Charlotte started to laugh again, but thought better of it. ‘Shit. What about the cattle?’

‘Back in the bush, I’m afraid.’ Rob smiled. ‘Want to go back and get them?’

Charlotte smiled back up at him. ‘No thanks. This time, they can stay there.’

The next morning, her head felt better. The rest of her body, not so much — she felt exactly as if she’d been dragged over a rocky creek bed. Cut, scraped and bruised.

‘Can you wiggle your toes?’ Rob asked, sitting at the end of her bunk.

She tried. ‘Yep.’ Her breath hissed through her teeth. ‘Hurts, though.’

‘I don’t think we should try and ride down today.’

Charlotte wasn’t about to argue. She sighed. Stupid, not to have carried two radios — hers was now somewhere downstream. ‘They’ll come up to look for us tomorrow,’ she said, knowing it was true. But God, they were going to be worried.

Rob examined her face. ‘How are you feeling?’

She grimaced. ‘Sore. But alive.’

‘Yeah.’ He stroked her cheekbone. ‘It makes a good start, doesn’t it?’

Getting up, he took the billy off the fire. ‘So. Any
near-death
experiences to report? Life flash before your eyes?’

Charlotte smiled ruefully. ‘The only thing I remember thinking was that you’d never get the mob down on your own.’

Rob laughed. ‘And indeed, I failed miserably. See, you should never take an accountant to do a shepherd’s job.’

‘Well, you didn’t do too badly, I suppose.’ She winced as she took the mug of tea from his hand. ‘Seriously, though …’

He raised his eyebrows at her.

‘Do you believe in all that — near-death experiences, life flashing before your eyes?’

‘I don’t know.’ Rob considered. ‘Maybe people have like a … a moment of clarity, when they realise what they care about most.’

Charlotte grimaced. ‘So in my case, that would be thirteen head of cattle?’

Rob laughed. ‘How about we say you were thinking of the station?’

Well, that made more sense. She sipped her tea. Would Blackpeak be her last thought? She certainly hoped it would still be hers to worry about when — in a
very
great many years from now — she did draw her final breath.

‘There’s nothing more important to you than that, is there?’ Rob asked, his back to her as he stirred up the fire.

Charlotte lay back and closed her eyes. ‘I don’t think there is,’ she said. ‘Not really.’

She woke up hungry. ‘What’s for lunch?’

Rob opened the larder and pulled a face. All the huts were
well stocked with tins and dry goods in case of emergencies — they weren’t going to starve. But the supplies they’d packed in were mostly gone now, and thanks to the trampers and hunters who also made use of the huts, the emergency menu could be eccentric.

‘Moroccan lamb?’ he held up a packet. ‘Allegedly. I doubt it.’

Throughout the afternoon, the rain continued to fall. Rob kept the fire stoked up and the billy on the boil, but Charlotte felt herself flagging. She shivered.

‘Come on, let’s move over here and get you warm.’ He carried her over to the fire, and settling himself at her back, folded her into his arms and pulled the other sleeping bag around them both. Charlotte went to sleep against his chest.

Rob woke her for dinner. He’d made camp bread. They ate it with kosher baked beans and then had a tin of peaches for dessert. Charlotte found that chewing hurt, and Rob put her back to bed. A wind got up, driving the rain harder against the tin roof. The lamps stuttered — it was going to be a rough night. Rob brought in more wood and banked up the fire.