Читать книгу Breakaway Creek - Heather Garside - Страница 10

Alex waited at the creek bank as Emma walked down the path towards him. The afternoon sun reflected off her pale blouse and straw hat and glinted gold in the brown hair that tumbled down her back. Little clouds of dust puffed about her feet as she walked, soiling her trailing hemline. She looked almost pretty, her face soft with anticipation, her trim waist defined by the snug band of her skirt. His body stirred, reminding him of all the reasons why he shouldn't be doing this.

From the first he'd known it would be unwise to spend much time with her. But Emma hadn't been easily discouraged. It had become her habit to stroll outdoors when the worst of the heat was over and she'd seemed to take a fancy to him. She had sought him out as he unsaddled his horse after work, or joined him as he fed the working dogs and chained them to their kennels. And then, fool that he was, he had asked her to meet him at the creek each afternoon when he'd finished work. He preferred the privacy here, away from the watching eyes of his family. He wasn't being deliberately secretive, he told himself, but why attract their attention?

Even so, he'd caught a few worried glances from George. Perhaps he was making fools of himself and Emma both, but for now he wasn't prepared to put a stop to their friendship. He wasn't sure of Emma's feelings towards him, but her presence here was all the encouragement he needed.

The first time he'd seen her at George and Lucy's wedding he had liked the look of her, but expected they'd have nothing in common. It turned out he was wrong. Her fascination with the bush seemed to draw him out. He loved sharing his knowledge of animals, not only the horses and cattle he worked with but also the native creatures which lived around them. She'd learned to recognise various bird calls and the tracks left in the sand as the animals came to the creek to drink. He showed her a wood duck's nest amongst the reeds and together they watched when the tiny ducklings hatched. Today, as they sat on the bank he pointed out the ducklings swimming behind their mother, one of them hitching a ride upon her back.

She watched in rapt enjoyment before giving him a smile that made his skin grow warm.

'You see so much. How did you learn all these things?'

He shrugged.

'I live with them every day. The Aboriginals taught us, too. We all spent a lot of time at their camp when we were kids and the women took us hunting with them.'

'I thought the men were the hunters.'

'For big game like kangaroos, yes. But the women catch snakes and goannas, find grubs and eggs, dig up yams - things like that.'

Her eyes widened.

'Did you ever eat their food?'

He laughed.

'What do you think? We were game to have a go at anything. Besides, you accept what you grow up with.'

'I'm not sure I could stomach it,' she shuddered. 'Do the Aboriginals still hunt?'

He shook his head.

'Not so much these days, except when they go walkabout. White fella tucker is easier to come by. We give them rations of flour, tea, sugar and tobacco. And meat, of course. Mother tries to keep them all clothed, which is easier said than done.' He grinned. 'Unless it's cold, they'd sooner go without.'

Emma blushed a little, reminding him how sheltered her life had been.

'My father says the Aboriginals are a mob of useless savages.'

Alex cringed inside. She was only repeating the sentiments of much of the white population, he told himself. They were her father's words, not hers. But suddenly the day seemed less bright and he wondered what he was doing here with this cosseted city girl. She didn't seem to notice his sudden silence, prattling on innocently.

'But Lucy tells me Mick and Billy are good stockmen. She plans to have one of the girls come to help her when the baby's born.'

He focussed on her last remark, remembering his mother's exasperation when she'd been training Molly to do housework.

'I hope Lucy doesn't have too much trouble with her. You have to think of it from their point of view. It's a bit different to living in a gunyah with a dirt floor.'

She gave him a warm look.

'You seem to understand them very well. Most people aren't so tolerant.'

He scrambled to his feet and held out his hand to help her up. She brushed down her skirts and then he froze when she mentioned that she's like to visit their camp sometime.

He looked away as the old anger and denial rose up to lodge in his throat.

'I don't go there these days. Not since I went to boarding school.'

Emma went pale and looked down at her hands.

'I'm sorry. I didn't realise ... I've seen you talking to the stockmen as if they were your friends.'

Her obvious confusion shamed him.

'Of course, they are my friends.' He made his voice deliberately gentle. 'I work with them every day. But it's one thing to hang around their camp as a boy, and another altogether for a grown man.'

'Oh.' She blushed again, making him think she wasn't totally ignorant of why some white men visited Aboriginal camps. Her change of subject was a relief. 'Where did you go to boarding school?'

'Brisbane Grammar, the same as George. I didn't stay as long as he did, though. I never liked the city - all that noise and bustle.' The call of the bush had been too strong. He hadn't been able to settle into his studies or enjoy the Brisbane social scene as George had. George had met Lucy at a party there, but even the wedding had been an ordeal for Alex.

Emma smoothed her skirt, her movements quick and nervous. He cursed himself for upsetting her.

'I know what you mean about the hustle and bustle,' she said. 'It's so peaceful here. But don't you ever get lonely?'

'I used to.' He didn't say any more, but her startled glance told him she read his meaning perfectly well. She looked away, her colour heightening again.

'I should go back to the house. Lucy will be starting dinner.'

He didn't ask if he would see her tomorrow. That was up to her. If he'd frightened her away, that was probably a good thing. But as watched her walk away, despondency weighed heavy on him.

****

Emma's mind was in turmoil as she returned to the house. She could no longer pretend that it was just a light-hearted flirtation. Alex was obviously interested in her and she must decide if she should continue to encourage him. His strength and gentleness irresistibly drew her, but today there'd been a disturbing intensity in his manner.

She doubted the match would be a problem, if it weren't for his lack of prospects. She loved it here at Breakaway Creek and she could imagine making her life here with him. But did his future include the property? According to George he was only the overseer and would never be anything more. Her parents would never agree to such a union.

It was hard to face Lucy's questioning glance when she walked into the kitchen. Lucy and George knew she'd been seeing a lot of Alex. But something in Emma's expression must have warned her cousin not to comment.

George surprised her with an invitation over dinner.

'We're mustering the Five-Mile Paddock tomorrow, Emma. It won't be a long day. Would you like to come with us?'

'I'd love to!' But caution swiftly tempered the thrill of anticipation. 'Lucy, do you mind? It doesn't seem fair to leave you alone.'

Lucy smiled generously.

'Of course you must go! I'll feel madly jealous, but I couldn't ask you to stay at home on my account.'

Emma hesitated.

'No, go on,' Lucy insisted. 'I've had my opportunity to enjoy the mustering. Why shouldn't you?'

Early the next morning, dressed in her riding habit and boots, Emma carried a borrowed side-saddle to the horse yards. She and Lucy had cut lunches for George and herself and the sandwiches, wrapped in newspaper, were stowed in her saddlebag. Lucy's blackened quart-pot was strapped to the d-rings of the saddle.

A pair of blue cattle dogs ran to greet her, tails wagging as they drooled in excitement. While she stooped to pat them, George led up a little brown mare.

'This is Lucy's horse, but she's happy for you to ride her. Her name's Fortune.'

He picked up the saddlecloth as if to saddle her, but Emma reached out to take it from him.

'I can do that, George.' During the course of her visit, they had come to be on first name terms. If Lucy was like a sister, she was beginning to think of George as a brother. 'I don't believe women should be helpless.'

'Oh yes.' George grinned but let her take over. 'I'd forgotten you were such a bluestocking.'

Alex, who seemed extraordinarily quiet, looked up from tightening his horse's girth and smiled. As his eyes met Emma's, something seemed to flash between them and her pulse quickened. When he turned back to his horse she watched him covertly while she positioned the side-saddle on the mare's back, her eyes lingering on the breadth of his shoulders and travelling the length of his moleskins.

She brought herself back from her daydream suddenly and busied herself with the reins, her face heating. What was she doing, staring at him like that? Hopefully George hadn't noticed. She didn't quite understand the subtle longing within her, a craving to be close to Alex's quiet strength and good looks.

They set off with Mick and Billy, the two Aboriginal stockmen, and old Mr Baxter who sat on his horse with an easy grace despite his age. He'd muttered a brief greeting, his cold eyes flickering over her with an indifference that stung. Emma hadn't exchanged more than a dozen words with him, and she didn't think that was about to change. Not for the first time she marvelled that such a man had fathered a son as warm and outgoing as George.

It was early enough to be pleasantly cool. The sun shone brightly with only a promise of the day's heat. Fortune, walked briskly, her ears pricked as if anticipating the day's work. Her mouth was soft; she seemed quiet and well mannered. It felt good to be back on a horse again.

Mr Baxter took the lead, alone. George and Alex rode abreast behind him, discussing their plans for the day. Emma followed while the stockmen brought up the rear. When they entered the paddock they were to muster, Mr Baxter gave instructions from his horse as Alex put up the slip rails that served as a gate.

'We'll split up to cover the paddock. Mick and Billy can come with me. Miss Watson, you go with George and Alex.'

Twenty minutes later, Emma was beginning to wonder if they'd ever find cattle when George pointed out a mob in the distance.

'You be careful, Emma,' he warned. 'Stay back if they start to run.'

'I'm a competent rider,' she protested.

'I'm sure you are, but I won't have you galloping through the timber in a side-saddle.'

Alex checked his horse and fell back beside her.

'He's right, Miss Watson. I've seen plenty of men come to grief.' He paused. 'If you get lost, stay where you are and cooee until we find you.'

It was the first time he'd spoken to her since they'd left the yards and Emma was feeling his neglect. She seethed inwardly. Of course mustering was a new experience for her, but it wasn't fair to judge her by Lucy's abilities. Her cousin had never been a particularly good rider.

As the men had obviously expected, the cattle set off at a fast rate through the box timber. George and Alex gathered up their reins and their horses leapt into a gallop. Fortune tossed her head and danced sideways, loath to be left behind. Emma put her into a cautious canter, startled at the sudden transformation of her mild-mannered mount.

Threading her way through the trees at speed was tricky. The cattle and men were soon out of sight and, afraid of becoming lost, Emma relaxed her tight hold of the mare's head. Fortune immediately increased her speed and Emma rode with grim concentration, guiding the mare through the timber with heel and hand.

Suddenly a bird flew up in front of Fortune's hooves, making the horse jump sideways. Thrown partly out of the saddle, Emma battled to bring the mare under control, but was unable to turn her away from the tree that loomed ahead. Emma's left shin slammed against its trunk. In a haze of pain she felt herself become dislodged. As the panicked mare raced out from under her, the ground rushed up to meet her.

The brutal impact knocked the wind from her body. Agony consumed her as she tried to suck air into her lungs. It seemed like minutes before she was able to drag herself to a seated position and gingerly move her arms and legs. Her left leg protested and she pulled up the skirt of her habit, revealing a bleeding graze on her shin and an already egg-sized lump.

She staggered to her feet and moved to the shade, where she leant against a tree trunk for support. Fortune was nowhere in sight. What should she do? Wait until the men came looking for her, she supposed, remembering Alex's instructions if she got lost. She flushed. How humiliating to have come to grief at the first bit of action!

She was wondering if she should start cooeeing when Alex rode out of the trees, leading Fortune from his own horse. His anxious face made her immediately forget her fear of his derision. He swung out of the saddle without a word and dropped both sets of reins, moving to grasp her hands in his.

'Emma! Are you all right?'

She nodded. She was so conscious of his touch it was difficult to frame a sensible reply.

'I hit my leg on a tree. I'm sorry to be such a nuisance to you. What's happened to the cattle?'

'Hopefully George has them under control. But you're all right - that's what matters.' He pulled her close and pressed his lips against the top of hair, which she suddenly realised was uncovered. She must have lost her hat in the fall. 'I got such a fright when your mare came galloping up.'

Hardly believing she was actually in his arms, she savoured the strength of them around her. The closeness of his hard-muscled body was even more thrilling than she'd imagined. The pain in her leg receded as she moved closer, forgetting decorum and usual reserve in the excitement of the moment.

Alex drew an uneven breath and bent his face to hers. Their kiss seemed to happen by instinct. He was gentle at first, and then increasingly urgent. Her heart thudded wildly as she learned the taste of him and the feel of his hot breath on her cheek and ear.

'You're beautiful,' he murmured. 'I think the world of you, Emma.'

'And me of you,' she whispered, realising it was true.

He kissed her again. It wasn't a chaste kiss such as she'd expected from him; it made her blood race and her body turn to butter. She sank against him, understanding, for the first time, why women were tempted to surrender their virtue to men. It was Alex who finally put distance between them.

'I don't want to stop this. I wish we could stay here all day.' He smiled down at her, his eyes tender. 'But we've got cattle to muster. Do you think you can ride?'

Emma had momentarily forgotten her leg, but now she realised it was throbbing painfully.

'I'll manage, but I'll have to ride slowly.'

'Good girl. George will be wondering what's happened to us.'

He helped her to her horse and hoisted her into the saddle. Unfortunately it was her sore leg that took all the weight in the stirrup and she winced with pain.

'Are you all right?' The concern in his dark eyes made her want to sink back into his arms.

'Yes, I'm all right, really.' She curled her right leg around the horn and adjusted her skirt. He retrieved her hat and she settled it on her head, thankful for its shade.

He frowned at her restlessly sidling horse.

'Fortune's a bit excited. Once we find George I can take you home if you like.'

'No, of course not.' She sat up straighter in the saddle. The thought of being a bother to them dismayed her; she'd see the muster through if it killed her. 'I won't be responsible for ruining the day's work.'

He grinned at her, a wicked gleam in his eye making her breath come faster.

'Even if we don't get any cattle, you haven't ruined my day, Emma.'

They found George waiting with a mob of cattle at a waterhole in the shade of the trees. His face furrowed with concern as he came to meet them.

'Are you all right, Emma? Did you get lost?'

Alex explained what had happened, but to her relief George didn't say "I told you so".

'I'll be in trouble with Lucy,' he said, instead. 'She told me to look after you. Would you like me to take you home?'

'Thank you. Alex has already offered. But I'm determined to see the day out.' She noticed George's horse was dark with sweat, indicating he'd had to do some hard riding before he got the cattle settled. Already she'd taken Alex away from his work. She resolved to make up for it.

The stock seemed to have expended their excess energy. The cows and calves walked out meekly as the two men herded them towards the place where they'd arranged to meet the others. Only one big calf was recalcitrant, rushing out of the mob at a gallop. Alex's horse leapt after it with no noticeable signal from its rider, quickly gaining ground until it raced neck and neck with the calf.

Emma watched in admiration as Alex turned the animal back to the mob. He sat his saddle effortlessly, as if he belonged there. Remembering the way he'd kissed her earlier, her body heated. She mentally listed his attributes: competent and physically strong, yet gentle, kind and honourable. Perhaps he didn't have money or possessions, but he was everything she wanted in a man, and the miracle was he seemed to feel the same way about her.

She took the position at the back of the herd. Her job involved urging along the smallest calves and trying to coax their hovering, protective mothers to follow the mob. One of the cows came back to find her offspring, bellowing anxiously and sniffing calf after calf until she found the right one. Then she stood over it, facing Emma and tossing her head at her. Nerves leaping in apprehension, Emma quickly retreated, unsure how to deal with the situation.

Alex must have witnessed her dilemma and cantered back.

'Don't let her get the better of you.'

Yelling at the belligerent cow, he spurred his horse aggressively towards her. Intimidated, the beast retreated into the depths of the mob, her calf at her heels.

'You make it look so easy.' Feeling at once chagrined and grateful, Emma made an effort to smile. 'I thought she was about to charge me.'

'She probably would, if you let her. The trick is to let her know who's boss.' Emma supposed her face reflected her doubt, for he returned her smile. 'I'll handle her. You're doing well for your first muster.'

It was a day Emma wouldn't forget in a hurry. As the hours went by they met up with the remainder of the party, who added cattle to the mob until it seemed huge to her inexperienced eyes. When they stopped at a shady waterhole and boiled their quart-pots for lunch, the break was a welcome chance to ease her stiffening muscles. The men were chivalrous, allowing her to rest while they took turns to check any wandering stock.

As they set to pushing the mob towards the homestead, Emma became immersed in swirling dust, heat, flies and bawling cattle. By the time they finally reached the stockyards she drooped with exhaustion and her throat was harsh and gritty with thirst.

Sitting at the kitchen table with Lucy, she slaked her craving with several glasses of cool rainwater from the tank and realised nothing had ever tasted so delicious. Her cousin was full of questions and, as Emma recounted the day's adventures, the myriad discomforts retreated to the background. She decided that she definitely wanted to do it again. The experience had been challenging and at times uncomfortable, but ultimately far more satisfying than home chores.

A soak in a warm bath, to which she'd added a handful of soothing Epsom Salts, made her feel ready to face the world again. At dinner she had only to deal with George's teasing as he told Lucy about the cantankerous cow. But even then George didn't taunt her about her fall.

She tried not to think about Alex at dinner, instead waiting until she was alone in bed to relive her memories. The image of him on his horse, looking tough and capable and handsome, thrilled her. But it was his tenderness and passion as he'd held her in his arms that totally disarmed her. Her blood pounded as she recalled their kisses and when she remembered his flattering concern, she decided that she no longer cared for her parents' approval.