Taming the Outback

Taming the
Outback

Ann B. Harrison

Breathless Press

Calgary, Alberta

www.breathlesspress.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or

persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Taming the Outback

Copyright© 2012 Ann B. Harrison

ISBN: 978-1-77101-807-4

Cover Artist: Victoria Miller

Editor: T. S. Chevrestt

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in reviews.

Breathless Press

www.breathlesspress.com

Dedication

No author gets a book published without walking the hard yards and receiving the help of many great people along the way.

My heartfelt thanks first and foremost must go to the incredible Annie Seaton. Without her guidance, I would still be floundering and wondering why I was constantly getting rejection after rejection. She did then and still does, guide me in putting my stories together in the correct manner.

Next, thanks must go to my dear husband, John, who put up with quick, boring dinners, because the stories in my head were calling louder than he was. Thank you for all your support. After thirty-five years, you still have the ability to make my heart flutter. I love you.

My kids, who let me talk to my characters when I should have been listening and talking to them. You have survived without me; you will again.

Kerry Doyle, my weatherman in Longreach, Queensland. Thank you for letting me annoy you with all the weather questions; much appreciated.

To Tara Chevrestt, the first editor game enough to take me on and whip me and my manuscript into shape. Thank you, thank you. It has been amazing to work with you.

To the people of Charleville. Yes, it is a real place in Queensland, Australia. Forgive me if I have taken liberties with your beautiful town. It was necessary for the story. I hope you still recognize it.

C
HAPTER
O
NE

“For once, Josh, can you just do what I ask and get in that office?” Libby pushed her son in front of her and gripping her daughter’s hand, followed him into the lawyer’s office. “It’s not my fault we’re here. You are fifteen, for goodness’ sake, old enough to know what you are doing is wrong. If it takes some lawyer to knock that chip off your shoulder, so be it.”

She scanned the waiting area. The receptionist lifted her head and smiled a welcome.

“Libby Holland to see Mr. Thomas.” Libby’s voice was more confident than she felt.

“Take a seat, Mrs. Holland. Mr. Thomas will be with you shortly.”

Tightening her grip on her son’s arm, Libby leaned down and spoke quietly, “Tell me, Josh, what you’ve done.”

“Why do you have to think the worst of me? It’s all you do,” he whined, a sour look marring an otherwise good-looking, young face.

“Probably because it’s what I’m getting used to with you, doing things that always seem to get you into trouble. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“Why is it always about you?”

“Get a grip. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. It’s hardly my fault we’re here at some lawyer’s beck and call,” she said, twisting a stray strand of hair back into the knot on her head. The skin on the back of her neck prickled. Looking up, she met the gaze of a tall, dark-haired man behind the receptionist desk. He was glaring at her, his dark eyes cold and his brow creased into a frown. She stared back and wondered if he were the lawyer who would drag her wayward son away from her at the end of the day. She had tried so hard since John had been killed. They all missed him, and Josh was showing it by acting out. Petty theft, destruction of property, cutting school, the list went on. She wandered over to the window and took a chair, nervously pulling at her bottom lip with her teeth.

“I’ll inform Mr. Thomas of his next appointment. I have to give him these papers,” said the lawyer, giving Libby another cold look as he strode past her down the corridor.

What is it with that guy? It would be nice if he met me before he decided to act like an ass. Unless he has something to do with Josh’s case, he has no right to be judging me. Libby watched him walk away, kicking herself for noticing how well his butt filled his tailored black trousers, confused about his attitude. She really was at her wit’s end, and she was dreading what the lawyer had to say. The last thing she needed to be doing was fantasizing over the moody guy, but it had been so long since anyone had looked at her, let alone touched her, even a cold look from a hot man had her stomach churning.

If Josh had done anything that would break up what was left of her family, she would lose it. Five years on one’s own with two emotionally distraught kids was not for the fainthearted.

“You can go in, Mrs. Holland.” The receptionist waved her hand down the corridor in the direction the good-looking, grumpy guy had gone.

Libby herded the kids in front of her, trying not to listen to the raised voices coming from the office at the end of the hallway. The door was slightly ajar, and the words echoed in the corridor.

“It’s not going to work, Aaron. How many times do you have to be told?”

“Just leave it to me.” A voice soothed over the angry tone. “It will all work out, you’ll see.”

The door opened, and the space was filled with pure, unadulterated male aggression. The hostile lawyer glared at Libby until her face heated with uncomfortable embarrassment, then brushed past her, leaving her with a hollow, anxious feeling in her stomach. The guy was a total jerk. They didn’t even know each other, yet he appeared to be judging her—and for what...she had no idea.

“Come in, come in. I’m Aaron Thomas. Please excuse my...um...associate. Bad day,” an elderly gentleman said as he ushered them into his office. He settled Libby in front of his desk and sat the kids at the cluttered sitting nook in the corner by the window. Libby straightened her spine, folded her hands in her lap, and waited for the ax to fall on her family. She had survived so much to come to this point. She wondered if she could survive what else her wayward son had been up to.

_***

Twenty minutes later, Libby’s surprised gasp interrupted the droning of the elderly lawyer. “Are you kidding me?” Her voice broke down to a whisper as she took it all in. “One hundred and fifty thousand acres. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Farm it and make a profit in the first two years or it goes up for auction. I believe there are quite a few locals who are willing to take it away from you given a chance.” He peered over the top of his wire-framed glasses at her, his eyes twinkling in obvious amusement at her shock.

“Sell it now, because I don’t want it.” Libby nervously licked her lips as she looked at everything in the room—everything but the man in front of her.

“I have to advise against walking away from this, Mrs. Holland. May I call you Libby?”

Libby nodded, the desire to flee from the room barely held in check as the lawyer looked over his glasses at her and then back at the papers in his hand.

“The value of the land alone is almost three million dollars, and with the value of the stock the place is running—especially if you clean them up and improve the lines already there—you are looking at half of that again. If you walk away, you don’t get any of the proceeds from the farms. It all goes to charity.”

Libby shook her head and ran her hands over her face.
I just can’t take this in. It’s not real. Me running two farms and at a profit?

“I don’t know the first thing about farms. I can’t even grow parsley in a pot without killing it, for God’s sake. I have enough trouble dealing with a delinquent fourteen-year-old boy, never mind taking on a cattle farm.” Her throat tightened as the tears welled, and she dropped her head into her hands, embarrassed as her shattered emotions finally became too much for her.

“Send in a tray of coffee, please, Annette, and a couple of soft drinks.” She heard Aaron pick up the phone and instruct his receptionist.

“Libby, let me talk frankly.”

Libby pushed her hair out of her eyes and met his serious gaze.

Locking his hands together on the old, scarred timber desktop, Aaron spoke to her. “Thaddeus requested some time ago that we check out your background.”

Her body tensed as she braced herself for whatever accusations would come next. “You could have simply asked me.”

“I hardly think you would have appreciated those questions. I’m sorry if that offends you, but he felt justified in looking into your background. After all, it’s been rather a long time since any of the family has seen you, Libby, and you are all that’s left of that bloodline. Your mother left the farm when you were three years old, and no one heard from either of you again. You can’t blame an old man for his curiosity, can you?”

“I guess not,” she agreed. She wiped her hand over her eyes, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she grabbed a tissue from Aaron’s desk and blew her nose. The door to the office opened, and a tray with coffee was deposited on the desk in front of her.

“Just black for me, thanks,” Libby said when asked, picking up the mug. “So I guess you told him I’m a widow with two unruly kids and a mortgage I can hardly handle on a rundown house in town, and I work in a pub. Does that sound right?”

“Basically, that about covers it.” Aaron smiled kindly at her. “Unfortunately, Thaddius died before we could arrange for him to meet you, but what I managed to tell him before he passed on was I thought you were the perfect person for the job of running the farms.”

“You can’t be serious.” Libby scoffed, putting her cup back on the desk in front of her. “I don’t remember any of my time on the farm or what it takes to run the place; I was a baby when my mother left. The only time I have come into contact with animals is the petting area in the Royal Show at Easter. Even then, they are under someone else’s control. Believe me, you have this so wrong, it’s not funny.”

“Oh, I think I call myself a good judge of character for a reason. You are a hard worker. Thaddius claimed it was in the genes.” Aaron put his papers down and leaned back in his chair. “You never shy from hard work if what I hear about you is true. You have struggled with and achieved, well, I guess a certain amount of success since your husband died. You could have curled up and felt sorry for yourself and let the government look after you and support your children, but you didn’t. Hard work is not something you have shied from, and that says a lot about your character.” He took his glasses off and smiled at her. “That’s the main reason I feel you are the right person for this bequest. There is nothing out there you cannot learn. Trust me on that. Listen to me for a moment, if you will. You need to get your life back on track, and I am a firm believer in kids growing up in the country. I understand the trouble you have been having with your son, and this could be your salvation in more ways than one. More things to keep him out of trouble on a station.” Aaron’s keen gaze flicked over at Josh, who was giving him evil looks, kicking the edge of the coffee table methodically with his foot, while Holly sat deep into her chair, quietly watching her mother.

Libby picked at imaginary dust on her trousers, choosing to ignore her son and his irritating behavior.

A tap on the door interrupted their conversation.

“Sorry, Mr. Thomas, Mr. Miller is on the phone for you.”

“Thank you, Annette. Ask him to hold, would you?” Aaron inquired, his attention going back to Libby. “Think about it over the weekend, Libby, and get back to me on Monday. You need to move quickly to fulfill the terms of the will, and the sooner you start, the better.”

_***

Nathan scowled at his cell phone as he disconnected the call. Aaron had been touting Libby Holland’s attributes for the last few months, ever since Thaddius had contacted Nathan’s uncle to search for the mysterious, missing relative he hadn’t seen since she was a baby. He knew exactly what his uncle had in mind and why he was insisting this city dweller should at least attempt to run the farms.
He’s a meddlesome old woman
. Nathan grumbled inwardly as he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, frustrated with the whole thing. Aaron had been trying to set him up with a suitable wife ever since his fiancée had dumped him and run off three years ago when she found the going too tough in the country.