Breakaway Creek. Heather Garside

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СКАЧАТЬ noticed the lapse in grammar with mild surprise. She'd hardly conversed with Alex at the wedding, but she knew George had been educated in Brisbane and his speech was without reproach. Had his adopted brother been given the same advantages? Though not roughly spoken, Alex's choice of words seemed less refined.

      'How is Lucy?' he asked. 'Did the trip to Rockhampton knock her about?'

      Emma shook her head, smiling. The warmth in his voice indicated he was fond of his sister-in-law.

      'Not really. She's resting under sufferance.'

      'Would you like me to walk you home?' He hesitated, seeming suddenly unsure. 'Unless you planned to go further?'

      'No, I'd like to walk with you.' They fell into step on the narrow path, the horse following behind while Alex loosely held the reins.

      'I've been shifting cattle,' he told her. 'One of the waterholes has gone dry and I've had to move the stock onto the creek. We're usually dry here at this time of year, but I hope the storms come soon.'

      'I love riding. Perhaps I'll be able to help you with the stock work. Lucy tells me she used to go mustering.'

      'She's a game little thing. She won't like being left at home if you come with us, I reckon.'

      Maybe it wasn't such a good idea, Emma thought, feeling suddenly discouraged. She didn't want to upset Lucy. Alex's spurs jingled on his boots as he walked. Emma glanced covertly up at his profile, thinking there was something elemental and earthy about him, as if he truly belonged to the dry, dusty land. Her head reached only up to his shoulder, and in her crisp white blouse and dark skirt she felt feminine and fragile in contrast to his masculine strength. His white moleskins were saddle-stained and, like his striped Crimean shirt, covered with a fine layer of dust. But instead of being repulsed Emma was overly conscious of his presence, and her pulse raced.

      Making conversation with the opposite sex had never troubled her before, but now words flitted just beyond her reach. She mentally searched for a suitable topic, thinking of the domestic details she and Lucy had chatted about. Even the shopping they'd done for the baby seemed an indelicate topic to share with a man, and hardly of interest to him. Her life in Brisbane was so far removed from his world. Would he care to hear the latest city gossip when he probably didn't know the people concerned? She thought not.

      'Do you have any other brothers?' she asked, at length. 'I remember meeting your sisters at the wedding, but obviously none of them still live at Breakaway Creek.'

      'No, me and George were the only boys. We have four younger sisters who have all married and moved away.' By the time he'd finished telling her about his nephews and nieces, they'd arrived at the horse yards. She watched as he unsaddled his sweaty bay mare, who still eyed Emma warily.

      'Will she let me pat her?'

      He glanced at her as he slid the saddle onto a rail.

      'If you take her quietly. She's a bit of a one-man horse.'

      He held the bridle as she cautiously approached the mare and stroked her smooth neck.

      'What's her name?'

      'Doll.'

      'That's short and to the point.'

      He flashed the quick grin she was already beginning to know and like.

      'I don't go for highfalutin names.'

      Doll sidestepped and tossed her head, ears pricked in the direction of her paddock. Emma gave her one last pat.

      'She wants to go. I suppose I should do the same. I'm sure I'll see you soon, Mr Baxter.'

      He touched his hat.

      'Too right. Thank you for your company, Miss Watson.'

      Emma turned away and retraced her steps to George and Lucy's cottage, a new anticipation humming through her veins. Would she be seeing a lot of Alex Baxter in the coming days? If so, the prospect pleased her.

      As she entered the kitchen Lucy moved away from the window.

      'I was watching you.' There was something cautious about her expression. 'You were with Alex.'

      'Yes.' Emma smiled, pretending not to notice the guarded look on her cousin's face. 'I was walking by the creek and almost bumped into him. He's charming.'

      Lucy's eyes softened.

      'I'm extremely fond of him and I'd love to see him marry some nice girl. But remember your parents, Emma. I don't think Uncle Henry and Aunt Fanny would approve of him as a suitor for you.'

      'Goodness.' Emma kept her tone deliberately light. 'It was just a chance meeting. I hardly know him.'

      Lucy said nothing more on the subject. Of course he was not the sort of man her parents expected her to marry, Emma told herself. But away from her mother's eagle eye, there was nothing to stop her from indulging in a little light flirtation. She had enjoyed Alex's company and saw no reason to keep him at a distance.

      A couple of days later Lucy took her to the big house and she renewed her acquaintance with George's parents, whom she had met briefly at their son's wedding. George's mother, Sarah, was a small yet formidable woman. Her wiry frame hinted that hard work was the core of her existence and her stern face suggested she had forgotten how to smile. Frank, her husband, was gnarled and wiry with fair, freckled skin that the years of Queensland sun had not been kind to. He made little effort to converse with the two young women, and Emma thought his pale blue eyes were the coldest she had ever seen. Here, perhaps, was the key to his wife's unhappy expression.

      Sarah, who seemed to do the talking for both of them, invited them to stay for morning tea. Aided by Molly, her Aboriginal maid, she served them a feast of fresh scones with jam and cream, a fruit cake and biscuits.

      'These scones are delicious, Mrs Baxter,' Emma said as she spread one lavishly with thick strawberry jam and whipped cream. 'I didn't expect to eat so well in the bush.'

      Sarah's lined face relaxed slightly.

      'Ah, but we're nearly self-sufficient out here. Mr Baxter milks the cows every morning and I skim the cream and churn it into butter. I even grew the strawberries to make this jam.'

      'I'm surprised strawberries will grow in this hot, dry climate.'

      'Only in the winter. It's the best time for gardening here. I grow vegetables and preserve them to see us through the summer. And of course I have my own hens to keep us supplied with eggs. I bake bread and we kill our own meat. The only things we buy are staples like flour, tea and sugar.' She passed around steaming cups of tea. 'What do you think of the bush, Miss Watson?'

      'I'm enjoying it. It's quite different from Brisbane.'

      Mrs Baxter pressed her lips together.

      'It can be hard for a city girl to adjust, especially if she's not used to working hard.'

      Emma glanced quickly at Lucy, who stared silently at her plate. It seemed obvious where that comment was intended, but she couldn't think what had provoked it. In her opinion Lucy had embraced the harshness of bush life with remarkable cheerfulness.

      After СКАЧАТЬ