FOLLOW THE MORNING STAR (51 page)

Queenie had felt rejection, jealousy and loss. Now she needed to feel desirable, to be adored, to give in to the sheer physicality of pleasure. So they gave to each other with the passion of lost love, with abandonment and the familiarity of old lovers. Henri gazed at Queenie’s still taut and beautiful naked body stretched languidly on the fur rug, the firelight playing over the mounds, curves and hollows of her breasts, hips, belly and legs. He brought her to climax time and time again before she pushed him down and straddled him, rising slowly and sensually on him until he moaned with uncontrolled delight. Just as they both began to feel the final surge of passion sweep them away, Henri swung Queenie back onto the rug, her legs locking over his shoulders as she arched to meet his thrusting hips. They came together, each fulfilling the other until, with a moan, Henri buried his face between Queenie’s breasts, and they shuddered and lay still, their hearts pumping in unison.

Queenie stroked his head, feeling contented and filled with great fondness for him. There was no tomorrow, there was no past, there was just this moment, and Queenie felt renewed.

Henri freshened their glasses and they sat staring into the dwindling fire, their damp bodies touching. Queenie leaned her head on his shoulder. ‘Know what I’d like now?’

‘Yes, I think I do.’ Henri reached for the bag
of chocolates and popped one into her mouth. ‘Replenish your energy.’

‘Be careful, I might attack you again,’ she answered impishly.

‘Then you’d better pass me the chocolates too,’ he grinned.

Later, Queenie insisted on returning to her own room. Wrapped in a towelling robe, Henri saw her to the door. ‘Can’t I walk you down the corridor?’

‘Not like that. No, I’m fine. I’ll see you for breakfast.’

Henri caught her by the wrist. ‘No pangs, I hope.’

‘None. We made each other happy for this evening and I thank you for that,’ she said gently, reaching up and kissing him on the cheek. ‘What we have between us is very special.’

Henri gazed sadly after her, realising this was all he could ever hope for. Queenie’s love for TR was stronger than both of them.

When Queenie walked into Sarah and John’s house, Sarah gave her a shrewd look. ‘You look rested, more placid. Must be the mountain air, eh?’

‘Everything has gone well, Sarah. I was sad at saying goodbye to the Kurrajong, but the handover has gone smoothly and I know all will continue as usual. What’s new here?’

‘We’re fine. Saskia and Tango rang to see how things are going. But you have a solicitor chasing you. Brusque fellow, wanted to track you down but I said you’d be back in a day or so.’

‘Strange, surely not Henri’s man. The contracts have all been done. I wonder what he wanted.’

As Sarah followed her down the hall she said pointedly, ‘Queenie, this legal man says he represents Mr Colin Hanlon’.

Queenie stopped and slowly turned around, staring at Sarah with a feeling of dread creeping over her. ‘What does he want?’

‘He wouldn’t tell me. Typical of Colin to find someone who is as rude as he is. All he said was that a certain document had come to light and Mr Hanlon was seeking to claim his rights. What do you suppose that means?’

Queenie closed her eyes for a moment, her calmness shaken. ‘Oh not again. He couldn’t.’

Sarah was aghast. ‘Try and claim Tingulla again? That’s impossible.’

‘I knew he was up to something,’ said Queenie softly, shaking her head in resignation. Then she stiffened. ‘Well, let him damn well try. I’ll fight him every inch of the way.’

Sarah was reassuring. ‘As you always have. Come on, don’t worry about it now. Let’s go into the sitting room, John’s pouring the drinks.’

Queenie was shaking as she entered the gracious and warm room where John stood holding out a sherry. ‘Here, I think you need this, Queenie.’

‘Thanks, John. Here’s to good friends — and battles to be won,’ said Queenie with a determined lift of her chin.

‘I see you’ve come back with renewed strength and vigour. Good for you.’ Whatever
Colin was playing at this time, John had no doubt he would be devious and dishonest.

Queenie was thinking the same thing as she sank into a chair. She’d know more tomorrow.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Tango and TR rode down the gorge to where the camels were penned. The cranky ones, as Dingo called them, had been culled and let go along with those considered too old and rickety. Tango and TR were chatting quietly, chuckling occasionally as they rode.

This time together had cemented the bond between them. When he had first arrived at Tingulla, Tango had come to respect, admire and love TR before knowing he was his father. In those early years TR had also felt a deep attachment to the lanky teenager, without understanding why it should be so — until Millie’s stunning revelation that Tango was the son TR never knew he had. For TR, all this past knowledge of Tango had been lost, and now he had come to know him this time as an equal, as a man of quiet humour and cheerful nature, who was reliable and trustworthy and had a gift with horses.

Watching them, Dingo recognised father and son had the same qualities and it warmed his heart to see the bond re-established between them. Dingo felt that was what TR and Queenie needed — time together, to get to know each other and fall in love again. He’d have to talk to the ever resourceful Millie and get her to help engineer this. Maybe TR and Queenie should spend a couple of weeks together on Alf’s Neptune Island. Dingo nodded to himself, pleased he was sorting out everybody around him.

‘Hooshka Ahkbar!’ he barked, and the camel he’d been sitting on unfolded its front legs and rose to its feet.

Tango and TR saw Dingo loping away in the distance on his favourite racing camel, settled comfortably in the saddle he’d made, his Akubra hat pushed firmly down on his white hair.

‘He thinks he’s Lawrence of Arabia,’ said Tango with a grin. ‘He’d look the part in a sheet too.’

‘He’s having the time of his life with this camel caper, isn’t he,’ added TR.

‘I think that’s been Dingo’s philosophy all his life. Make hay while the sun shines, but stop and smell the roses along the way,’ said Tango. ‘And now he can afford these indulgences. He gets these great bloody ideas for schemes and deals and he has tremendous energy for a man his age, but it’s all the blokes that work for him that have to make them happen!’

‘And he still keeps on making money. He’s unbelievable. I don’t think there are too many like him in the bush anymore,’ said TR.

They arrived back at their camp and TR clicked his tongue and the grey filly slid to the ground so he could dismount.

‘I reckon she learned that from the camels,’ chuckled Tango. ‘You’re feeling a lot more at home in the saddle, aren’t you?’

TR rubbed his bad leg. ‘Still feel a bit stiff though. I could do with one of Jenni’s massages.’

‘We’ll be back at Dingo’s house tonight. You can have a hot bath,’ said Tango.

‘Sounds good to me.’ Privately though, TR would have preferred the firm and caring touch of Jenni’s hands. He was slowly coming to a decision about her. When Tango left, he would have to make plans to visit her.

That evening Tango and TR returned to Dingo’s homestead while Dingo stayed at the camel camp awaiting the arrival of the sheik’s representatives.

While TR luxuriated in a steaming bath with a newspaper and a Scotch and soda, Tango checked in with Millie at Tingulla, Mick at Guneda, Queenie at Sarah’s and Saskia at Harmony Hill.

Saskia was in high spirits. ‘Did you catch any camels?’

‘Yeah, heaps. It was pretty exciting stuff actually. Best of all, we got TR up and riding.’

‘You did! Hey, that’s great news.’

‘So everyone else is doing okay, how about you little sis, what’s new and exciting in your life? And how’s Jenni?’

‘She’s fine. Really liking it here, though Colin is being a pain as usual. But, Tango,
could you come and visit before you go back to Guneda? I’ve got a horse I want you to see. I’ve trained him and I think he could be raced.’

‘Jeez, Sas, don’t jump the gun. If you want to be a trainer, come and work for me. It isn’t an easy road for women. As I offered before, come under Guneda’s wing and let us help you get started.’

‘No way. I want to prove myself on my own merit. If I start out with you guys, everyone will just think I’ve been helped by the family and couldn’t do it out in the real world on my own.’

‘Don’t be so stubborn, Sas. Do you want to start by shovelling muck out of stables at Randwick?’

‘I might not have to. You just wait and see, Tango.’

Tango laughed. ‘Okay, do it your own way. In a couple of weeks’ time there’s a decent race at Southport — the Gold Coast Cup — Camboni is putting Ambrosia in it, so come out and spend the day at the races with me. Bring Jenni too, I’d really like to see her again.’

‘How do you think Ambrosia is going to do?’

‘Good. He’s a fine horse. I’m trying to get them to let Mick ride him instead of the jockey they want.’

‘Who’s that?’

‘Ah, some jockey who’s had a few wins. Had a few nasty suspensions too. Bit of a dubious background I reckon, but not a bad rider. It’s just that Mick knows the horse.’

‘Umm. That jockey sounds like the sort of bloke Alfredo would go for. Keep Mick away from that lot,’ warned Saskia.

Tango raised his voice a pitch. ‘Oh, now the trainee trainer is giving me advice about the jockeys, eh?’

‘Oh belt up, Tango,’ said Saskia. ‘I’ll see you at the races.’

‘We’ll put some money on Ambrosia and I’ll take you and Jenni out to rip up the Gold Coast with our winnings,’ promised Tango.

‘He mightn’t win,’ teased Saskia.

‘Well it won’t be any skin off my nose. I’ve done the best I can with him. If they let Mick ride him, he’ll place for sure.’

Saskia found Jenni in the massage room and told her Tango was coming up for the Cup. ‘He was so condescending,’ fumed Saskia. ‘I’d love to run Toffee against his horse.’

‘Why don’t you? Has Colin said anything about selling him?’

‘He was down in Sydney, I’ll see if he’s back.’

The Gadens told Saskia Colin was over at the Coast, so Saskia rang the apartment and asked him if he’d spoken to George about selling Toffee.

Colin was in an affable mood. ‘Yeah, yeah, I didn’t forget. You can have him for a thousand.’

‘Dollars? Yipes, I didn’t think he’d want that much,’ exclaimed Saskia. ‘What was he going to do with him anyway?’

‘He’s got reasonable bloodlines, he could be put to stud. A thousand is a gift price, Saskia. Listen, you stick to your pony rides and forget about racehorses.’

‘Even if they are broken down?’ shot back Saskia. ‘I’ll think about it.’

She found Jenni and told her the news. ‘Double what I thought,’ she sighed. ‘A thousand dollars.’

‘You’ve got five hundred though?’ asked Jenni.

‘Yes, my emergency savings.’

Jenni grinned. ‘Then that’s all right. I’ve got five hundred to spare. We’ll go halves in him. Whaddya say partner?’

Saskia stared at her. ‘Are you sure, Jenni? You don’t know anything about horses, you’re going to have to trust my judgement.’

‘Since I left the hospital and started hanging around with you lot I’m developing a real interest in horses and riding!’ she laughed.

‘Well, if you’re sure, let’s do it!’ Saskia rang Colin back and said she’d pay the thousand.

Colin was pleasantly surprised. He’d just made himself four hundred dollars on the deal — Bannerman had only asked for six hundred. Now Camboni’s syndicate had decided Ambrosia was the better horse they didn’t care about a horse who couldn’t win for them.

‘I’d like his papers as soon as I could.’

‘Hand over the cash and you’ll have them in a day,’ said Colin.

That afternoon Saskia rode Toffee down to Angus Wellburn’s farm and chatted to him about racing. After a while she got to the point of her visit. ‘You told me you were a racehorse trainer for a number of years. Do you still hold your licence?’

The farmer scratched his head, tipped his
hat back on his head and reached for his roll of Drum tobacco. ‘Well, yes I do. I’ve dabbled with horses for blokes off and on. Just an interest. Why do you ask?’