Breakaway Creek. Heather Garside

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ