The Cattleman's Special Delivery (9 page)

Or rather, a new twist to his old problem.

He knew well that it was crazy to imagine a long-term future at Warringa with a girl like Jess. Eventually, she would need to leave. She would want to head back to Cairns where she and Rosie could join a playgroup and interact with other mothers and kids. Jess would want cinemas and parties, girlfriends—all the things women missed when they came out here. She deserved an easier life. She deserved happiness, not hardship.

In other words...there was nothing wrong with his original plan, but they couldn’t afford to complicate it with attraction issues. He certainly couldn’t let on how badly he was attracted to her.

And the only way he knew to handle this was to stay well out of her way.

* * *

‘So what’s Reece up to today?’ Jess asked Michael over their mid-morning cuppa. It was a question she asked most days, at morning or afternoon tea, or at lunch.

‘Same as yesterday.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Rounding up cattle, leadin’ them into the yards, drafting out the weaners from the mothers, branding, yarding the beasts he plans to sell.’

‘I guess he’s going to be pretty busy every day, then.’

‘Damn busy.’ Michael’s eyebrows knitted as he watched Jess spooning mashed vegetables into Rosie’s mouth. ‘She’s not too noisy, after all, is she?’

‘Does that mean she’s not bothering you?’

‘Not yet.’

Jess smiled. ‘Glad to hear it.’

Everything was fine, actually. Jess had absolutely no reason to feel twinges of disappointment.

Just the same...there were many nights when Reece didn’t get back until after she and Michael had already eaten, and she’d had to leave his dinner on a covered plate in the warming oven. She knew it was probably a paranoid thought, but she’d begun to suspect that he was deliberately avoiding her.

* * *

The day in the saddle was long and hot and dusty. Reece showered and changed and ate alone in the kitchen, enjoying corned beef with tomato relish and tender vegetables with a delicious white onion sauce. He had to hand it to Jess. She could turn even the simplest dishes into a gourmet meal.

‘Enjoying your tucker?’

‘Very much,’ Reece agreed as his dad shuffled into the kitchen in his pyjamas and slippers.

‘She’s a good cook.’ Michael was squinting without his glasses.

‘Yeah. And I take it you and Jess are getting on OK?’

Michael nodded, pulled out a chair and sat slowly, wincing a little as his old bones creaked.

Reece continued eating. He never minded his father’s company, but, from years of living with the guy, he sensed that he was about to find himself on the receiving end of a lecture.

Michael leaned forward. ‘Are you going to say goodnight to her?’

‘To Rosie?’

The old man snorted. ‘To Jess.’

This was a shock. The last thing Reece had expected. Then again, his father had periods of vagueness and weirdness these days. ‘She’s already in bed, Dad.’

‘She’s in her room, but she likes to read. She’s working her way through the books in the lounge room. I’m sure she’s not asleep.’

Frowning, Reece speared a carrot with his fork. ‘I don’t think I’ll bother her.’

‘She’s lonely, Reece.’

A chill slinked through Reece’s veins. His thoughts flashed, without his volition, to boyhood memories of his mother. With unnecessary care, he set his knife and fork on his plate. ‘What makes you think Jess is lonely?’

‘She asks about you all the time. What’s Reece doing today? How long does the mustering last?’

He swallowed as his heart began to pump. ‘Jess sees me at breakfast. She could ask me those questions.’

‘Maybe.’ His dad shrugged. ‘She doesn’t strike me as the timid type, but I reckon you’ve got her spooked.’

‘That’s rubbish.’

For long seconds his father stared at him. His once sharp eyes were now cloudy with age and diminishing health but they hadn’t lost their inner steel.

Reece sighed. ‘All right. I’ll talk to her. I’ll make sure she’s OK.’

* * *

Jess slid a bookmark between the pages of her book and set it on the bedside table. The story, set during the Great Depression, was about a lonely guy whose wife had left him. As a result, the man had to care for their little daughter on his own. Life was tough in the cities during the depression and he’d come to the bush, trudging from farm to farm, looking for work and bringing the little girl with him.

It was really well written, funny in places, but also gripping and touching, and for some reason that didn’t quite make sense it kept making her think of Reece. Now, the story was probably going to keep her awake when what she needed was something boring that would put her to sleep.

Resigned to at least try to sleep, she reached for the switch on the bedside lamp. On the point of plunging the room into darkness, she heard Reece’s footsteps in the hall. Her fingers stilled.

He stopped outside her door and she sat up straighter, her heart suddenly thumping madly. Did he want to speak to her? She wouldn’t mind if he came in—if he knocked and just popped his head in to say hello.

Her nightie was practically neck to knee. No worries there. If only she’d left the door ajar so he’d feel more inclined to communicate.

Hell, why was she waiting?

Flinging off the bedclothes, she swung her legs out of the bed. Her feet hit the floor as she heard his footsteps again. Moving away.

Away...

OK. She knew it was silly, but she went to the door anyway, and opened it. Of course, the passage outside was dark and empty.

Ridiculously disappointed, she closed the door and went back to bed, flopped onto the pillows. Stupid tears stung her eyes.

God, I’m a fool.

Rolling over, she snapped off the light. For a minute there, she’d thought that Reece might be lonely or longing for company. But why would he be lonely? He had thousands of cows and his neighbours for company, as well as his father and the men who drove the big road trains that came to take his cattle to the sale yards.

He was a man of the land and no doubt he had women friends he could visit when he wanted female companionship.

Jess, in the meantime, had Michael and Rosie and this homestead, which grew more beautiful every day from all her polishing and cleaning. She was an ungrateful idiot for thinking she needed more.

Well...she was, wasn’t she?

* * *

The sun hadn’t yet risen when Reece came into the kitchen next morning. Jess was at the stove, stirring pieces of smoky bacon through a pot of baked beans, and she looked up briefly, the merest ghost of a smile tilting her lips. But almost immediately the smile vanished and she quickly dropped her gaze.

‘Morning, Reece.’ She spoke without looking at him, nodding instead to the teapot on the table. ‘I’ve made the tea.’

‘Thanks.’

‘These beans are almost ready.’

Normally, he headed for the table. This morning he walked to the stove.

Jess’s dark hair was tied up in a loose knot, leaving her pale neck bare.

He forced his gaze from her to the pot on the stove. ‘That smells sensational.’

He was referring to the bacon and the beans, although in truth he was even more entranced by the hint of soap or perfume on Jess’s skin. She turned to him, her green eyes wide with surprise, her lips parted.

He longed to lean in, to feel the softness of her lips against his, to taste their rosy sweetness. Damn. This was why he stayed away. He was becoming obsessed.

‘Is everything OK?’ he asked her.

‘I think so.’ She frowned. ‘Why?’

He tried for an offhand shrug. ‘Just wanted to make sure you’re not getting too bored with life here.’

‘Oh, no.’ She answered quickly and moved with haste to retrieve two slices from the toaster. ‘Rosie’s so much more settled,’ she said as she buttered the toast. ‘I think she adores having me at her beck and call.’

Reece nodded. ‘The house is looking amazing. I can’t remember the last time the windows were so sparkling. You don’t have to go to too much trouble, you know.’

‘I don’t mind.’ She spooned beans onto the toast and handed the laden plate to him. ‘You’re working very hard, aren’t you?’

‘Yeah...’ He accepted the plate with a brief nod. ‘I know I haven’t been around much.’

Her eyes narrowed and when she looked up, her smile was shrewd. ‘Has Michael been talking to you?’

‘That’s a strange question. Of course he talks to me. He’s very taken with you, by the way. And I reckon he’s happier than he’s been in a long time.’

‘That’s good to know.’ Jess reached for the teapot, pouring herself a mugful of hot, strong tea. ‘I like your dad.’ She added milk to the tea and leaned against a cupboard, sipping, while Reece started his breakfast.

‘He’s good company.’ She looked as if she might have said something more, but then she pressed her lips together as if to stop herself.

Turning to the bench, she reached for the bread packet and said over her shoulder, ‘Roast beef and pickle sandwiches OK for your lunch?’

‘Yes, thanks.’ Reece knew the conversation had been inadequate. At least he’d tried.

* * *

Rosie was cutting another tooth and her afternoons were increasingly miserable, but to Jess’s surprise Michael found ways to keep her entertained with old-fashioned games with fingers and toes. “Round and round the garden like a teddy bear...” and “This little piggie went to market” were favourites. And the old man was transformed when he smiled and laughed with the baby.

Jess could see that he’d once been as handsome as his son.

‘I wonder if you’d mind keeping an eye on Rosie for me while I grab the washing from the line,’ she said. Usually, she sat Rosie on the grass with a few pegs to play with, but there were a few clouds rolling in, possibly bringing rain, and she could unpeg the clothes so much faster if she wasn’t trying to keep an eye on where the little girl had rolled to or what she was putting in her mouth.

Michael looked delighted. ‘We’ll be fine here, won’t we, Rosie?’

Jess crossed the stretch of grass to the lines strung between two old mango trees. After living in flats that only had dryers or tiny pull-out lines over the bath, she loved the luxury of hanging washing to dry in fresh, clean air and sunshine. And whenever she took them in from the line, the fabrics smelled good enough to bury her nose in.

This simple little pleasure was one of the many things she treasured about her new life. She was humming to herself as she came back to the veranda.

Michael and Rosie were no longer there.

CHAPTER SIX

J
ESS
stifled her
instant flare of panic. Michael had gone inside, taking Rosie with him. No big deal.

‘Michael?’ she called lightly as she went into the house, expecting to see him in his favourite armchair in the lounge room.

The room was empty.

‘Michael, are you there?’

When there was still no answer, Jess felt the first stab of hot fear.

‘Michael? Rosie?’

She dropped the washing basket and began to hurry through the house, pushing open doors and calling. There was no sign of them anywhere.

Stop panicking. They’ll be in the kitchen.

She ran.

They weren’t in the kitchen, or the pantry, or the cold room, and a shot of pure terror ripped through Jess. She tried to tell herself she was overreacting. Michael was a responsible adult—a bit vague at times, perhaps, but not foolish. He’d raised Reece on his own, and he was very fond of Rosie. He wouldn’t harm her.

Not intentionally.

Oh, God.

After scouring the house from end to end, Jess raced outside again, checked all the verandas, the broom cupboard, the laundry, the outside loo. She stood at the top of the front steps, scanning the endless paddocks for a sign of the man and her baby.
Please, just a glimpse.

How on earth could an old man have got so far away so quickly?

She cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled, ‘Michael!’ at the top of her voice.

The only response was the harsh cry of a distant crow.

Now, Jess’s mounting panic exploded. All the love she’d ever felt for Rosie rushed through her like a geyser, filling her with fierce longing and dread. From the moment she’d first seen her baby, she’d been smitten, and each day since then Rosie’s cute, sweet little personality had blossomed, twining strong, deep-rooted tendrils around Jess’s heart.

Her little girl was such a loving, chuckling, gorgeous, perfect thing.

Please, please let her be all right.

Crack!

At the sound of a stockwhip, Jess’s heart jolted. Cattlemen used stockwhips—which meant Reece mustn’t be too far away.

The thought had barely formed before she was flying down the steps and over the grass. The gate in the fence was too complicated to stop and try to open. She scrambled over it, poised precariously for a moment on the top as it wobbled, and then jumped down and continued racing across the paddock of grazing cattle.

I hope there aren’t any bulls in this paddock.

A stockwhip sounded again.

The sound was coming from beyond a stand of gum trees at the far end of the paddock. Jess’s heart was pounding as she ran. She couldn’t find a gate at the far end, so she dived through the barbed-wire fence, ripping her T-shirt and flinching as sharp barbs pierced her skin. Too bad. She had to find Rosie and she needed Reece to help her.

She staggered on, gasping now, and with a painful stitch in her side, but at last, rounding the clump of trees, she saw a mob of cattle in a cloud of dust. And stockyards. Men on horseback.

‘Reece,’ she yelled, but of course he couldn’t hear her. He was too busy prancing about, steering his horse back and forth, turning it this way and that as he guided the jostling cattle through a narrow opening into the yard.

She waved her arms frantically above her head, praying it was enough to catch his attention—anyone’s attention. And then, as she drew closer to the yards she saw a quad bike near the fence line and she recognised Michael’s snowy hair and stooped shoulders as he sat astride the bike.