The Cattleman's Bride. Joan Kilby

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      “There might be a water hole in the creek that hasn’t dried up.”

      Her eyes widened. “But…?”

      He caught sight of the old refrigerator they used as a mailbox and geared down. “Here we are.”

      “Where?” She gazed around at the featureless landscape. He could swear he saw her shudder.

      “The driveway,” Luke said, and turned off onto a rutted dirt track.

      Sarah took another glance outside and this time he was positive about the look of revulsion.

      “The driveway?” she repeated, aghast.

      “Yep. Only thirty kilometers to the homestead from here.”

      Sarah heard this with a sinking heart. By now she knew every detail of the dashboard as well as she knew the keyboard of her computer. She watched the digital speedometer with glazed eyes. Anything to take her mind off the weird feeling that stopped her from looking out the window. She’d never experienced anything like it before. But then, she’d spent all her life nestled between the mountains and the sea, swaddled in cozy enveloping clouds that lowered the sky and brought the horizon in close.

      Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it another minute, she saw in the distance a stand of smooth white-limbed trees and the sloping roof of the homestead, half-buried among their leafy branches.

      Burrinbilli at last.

      She’d never been here and the landscape was completely foreign, but she’d heard so many stories that she felt a strange sense of homecoming. Here, her mother had lived as a child. Here, her grandmother had given birth to her mother. Here, her great-great-grandparents had built the homestead and run cattle.

      Luke lived here now. Had for ten years. It probably felt like home to him, too, and for more tangible reasons than hers. She glanced sideways at him, wondering what he really felt about her visiting. His chiseled profile gave nothing away.

      “Have you given any more consideration to my offer to buy you out?” she asked.

      Luke stopped in front of a wire gate across the road and put the truck in neutral. “Only how I might convince you to sell, instead. I was a signature away from owning it all.”

      “I’ve brought back your deposit.” She rummaged in her purse for an envelope and held it out to him.

      Ignoring it, Luke swiveled on the bench seat to face her, one elbow resting on the seat back, the other on the steering wheel. “I would have thought you’d honor your father’s intent.”

      Luke was a big man, Sarah realized, tall, broad shouldered and well muscled. But being tall herself she wasn’t intimidated by size. “I don’t know my father’s intent. Anyway, I owe him nothing.”

      Luke pushed a hand through his hair, sweat dampened at the temples from his hat. “How can that be?”

      “After he and my mother split up he bought Burrinbilli from her for a pittance. Not long after that he remarried and moved to the east coast,” Sarah added bitterly. As good a father as Dennis had been to her, it still hurt that her real father had cared so little about her.

      “I’m surprised your mother didn’t return to Australia after her marriage broke up.”

      “Her father died fighting a bushfire not long after she came to America. Her brother had been killed in Vietnam the year before. With no men left to run Burrinbilli, my grandmother passed it on to Mom, thinking she and Warren would come back. Nana went to live on the coast, where she died when I was about ten. So even though Mom owned the station, none of her family lived there anymore. I guess she didn’t feel she had much to come back to.”

      Sarah paused to take a breath. The glazed look on Luke’s face suggested he already knew more than he ever wanted to about her family history. But she wanted to get it all over at once. “Also, Mom thought I should be raised near my father. The trouble was, his second wife didn’t want him to have anything to do with us. By the time Mom realized Warren wasn’t going to go against her to see me, she’d met my stepfather, Dennis, who had an established business in Seattle. So, she stayed.”

      “I see.” Luke eyed her warily a moment, as if to make sure she’d really stopped. Then he yanked on the hand brake and jumped out of the truck to stride toward the gate.

      Sarah sat where she was, her stomach churning as it always did when she thought about her father. Watching Luke walk back to the Land Cruiser, she recalled the old Mills and Boon romances by Lucy Walker, which were set in the outback and which she used to sneak from her mother’s cache of books as a young girl. It was the passenger’s job to open and close the gates.

      Luke got back in and drove through the gate. “I’ll shut it,” Sarah said when he stopped on the other side.

      She jogged back to the gate through the searing heat. The metal latch burned her fingertips as she pushed it shut. Then she made the mistake of glancing over the top of the gate. The land was so huge, so open. Nothing for her eyes to fasten on except the haze of heat that shimmered over the dusty track. To her surprise, a wave of panic quivered through her. Oh, no…

      Her chest tightened until she was literally gasping for breath. Black spots appeared before her eyes and she doubled over, wrapping her arms around her waist. Beads of cold sweat popped out on her forehead. She was going to pass out…

      Strong hands gripped her shoulders. “Keep your head down. Breathe deeply.”

      She did as he said and after a minute she was breathing easier. “Thanks,” she said shakily, and struggled upright.

      Luke’s eyes searched her face. “What happened? You went as white as a ghost gum.”

      Sarah smiled feebly. “I felt…a little…faint. It must be the heat.”

      He regarded her dubiously but said nothing as he helped her back to the vehicle.

      Sarah was quiet the rest of the way. The heat, although a fierce contrast to autumn rains in Seattle, hadn’t caused that panic attack. She knew that was what it was because of Quentin, even though she’d never experienced one before.

      Finally they topped a low rise and her worry fled as she got her first close-up view of Burrinbilli. The homestead was a long single-story building bordered by two stocky palm trees. Built of creamy sandstone blocks, it had a sloping roof of sage-green corrugated iron and a wide wraparound veranda. Tall narrow windows flanked by shutters were set into the walls at intervals. The iron pillars supporting the veranda were lush with a tangle of purple bougainvillea that almost obscured the intricate iron filigree trim.

      “Vines are overgrown,” Luke said, braking to a halt.

      “It’s beautiful,” Sarah declared from the edge of her seat.

      A speckled black-and-white dog with pointy ears and stubby legs rose from the veranda, barked once and wagged his nether regions furiously as Luke got out of the truck.

      “How ya goin’, mate?” He bent to rub the dog behind the ears, then presented him to Sarah. “Wal, the Wonder Dog.”

      “Hello, Wal. Aren’t СКАЧАТЬ