by Bowes, K T
Du Rose Family Ties
The Hana Du Rose Mysteries
K T Bowes
Published by Hakarimata Press
Copyright 2016
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Acknowledgement
I dedicate this novel to my beautiful sister, Rebecca Arden, who makes me laugh, shares my sorrows and gives me advice. I lost you for a while there, but it won’t happen again. I will hold on more tightly this time and the rollercoaster of life will not shake me loose.
Chapter 1
Bush Emergency
“Something’s wrong!” The redhead lifted the reins in her left hand and the white horse halted under her, drawing a cloud of dust from the baked earth. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah.” Her companion stopped to listen, his Appaloosa shifting with impatience and dragging his hooves on the track.
“Three shots mean there’s a hunter in distress.” She turned in the saddle, her green eyes intense on his face. “Don’t they?”
He groaned and ran his dusty hand through curly, blonde hair. “No, please let’s not do this, Mrs Du Rose? Your husband warned me you were the biggest distraction on this mountain.”
Her inhalation sounded sharp as she widened her eyes and feigned shock. “That’s mean! I don’t even need you. I know this mountain as well as you do, David Allen!”
“Yeah, well I don’t know it that well so get a move on, we need to get the cattle to the bottom before dark.” David peered around Hana at the little band of calves who hung around on the track ahead of them. They spread out nervously, tugging at green shoots in the undergrowth, the native ferns unappetising. Their tufty cream and patchy black bodies made them look more like giant teddy bears than the younger members of a lucrative beef herd. “Do a head count. Have we still got twelve?”
“Er, yeah, I think so. They won’t keep still.”
David sighed with exaggerated drama, pushing his dusty cowboy hat back on his head. His horse snorted with impatience and pawed the ground again. A crackly sound broke into the calm of the bush as the radio on David’s saddle projected Logan Du Rose’s voice into the air. David winced. He unhooked the walkie talkie and pushed it towards his companion. “You answer it. He’s your husband.”
“He’s your boss!” Hana smiled smugly and tried to count the cattle, growling her exasperation as two kicked up their heels and fled down the track. The rest surged after them.
“Come in, Hana!” Logan’s voice held an edge of impatience, blended with an undertone of fear.
“I hear ya.” David’s voice was low and deep, feigning calm as he spoke into the handset. “What’s up?”
“You’re late. There’s only thirteen calves. It shouldn’t take all day!”
David’s mouth dropped open in horror. “Twelve. There were twelve up there. That’s what Toby said and that’s what we’re droving.”
“We’ve been back hours now. Toby’s ridden up the road twice. Where the hell are you?”
“Er...” David bit his lip and watched Hana’s shapely form as she weaved the large mare around the calves on the track, herding them back into a tight knot. Her red hair flowed out behind her, the hair clip shucked an hour ago in the mud up near the Du Rose house at the top of the mountain. Dust and bush debris covered the back of her shirt and David gulped. “We took the scenic route and Mrs Du Rose fell off.”
A string of expletives split the air with such vehemence, David fumbled the radio. Then, “Is she okay?”
“Logan, she’s fine. She got straight back on. She’s just...” David bit back the word and saw Hana shake her head and smirk.
“Don’t say it to him!” she called up the track. “He won’t be so understanding.”
“Whatever! You are unmanageable. You’re a complete bloody nightmare!”
“Are you talking to my wife?” Logan’s voice crackled through the radio as David released the call button and his eyes bugged. He stared accusingly at his finger and tried not to cringe. Hana let out a peel of laughter. “Just get back here. Stop mucking around!” Logan’s voice crackled again and David sighed as he fixed the radio back over its clip.
“Great, thanks for that. Now I’m offside with him!”
“No, you’re not. He worries about me and I’m fine. You shouldn’t have told him I fell off though.” Hana reached forward and caressed the soft, furry neck beneath her fingers. “It was an accident. It wasn’t your fault, was it Sacha?”
The horse’s ears flicked back and forth as the mare nodded her head, snuffling softly and crunching on the metal bit in her mouth. David shook his head and edged his horse towards Hana and the surging knot of calves. “You’re covered in muck and you’ve got crap in your hair. He’d have noticed and then yelled at me.”
“Coward!” Hana reached behind her and yanked a fern from her long red hair. It resisted, breaking into pieces and she combed it out with slender fingers. “There’s a way to tell my husband bad news and that wasn’t it. You’ll learn.” She winked at David and sensed his unease, relenting and nudging Sacha into a tight turn. “It’s fine, David. It was my own silly fault. He won’t blame you.”
“Yeah, he will.” The man sounded fed up. “All those years as a British airman and I never had a sergeant like him. He’s ruthless.”
“He has to be,” Hana replied, her voice wistful. “It’s a harsh world and there aren’t many breaks for people like us. Loyalty’s hard won on this mountain and not everyone we like is trustworthy.”
“I know.” David pushed his gelding into a lazy trot and rounded up a stray calf pulling at a supplejack vine. “Get on with ya!” He tapped the furry flank with the thong of his bull-whip and the small animal surged forward, nosing into the bunch.
“The gate’s round the next bend,” Hana said, jerking her head backwards. “Logan wants them in the first paddock so we’re done. I’ll corral them here if you ride ahead and open the gate, then I’ll drive them forward.”
David grunted. “Then I’ll spend the next six months hearing all the reasons why we should have brought them down by road.”
Hana rolled her eyes and tossed her head. The remains of the fern let go of her auburn curls and fluttered into the bush. “Nev told me not to take them by road!” Hana protested. “And I’ll tell my husband that! Nev said the washout on the cliff would freak them out and make it unsafe.”
“Well, get your story straight then!” David bit, urging his horse into a fast trot. He skirted the knot of jittery calves and made for the next bend as Hana’s horse ducked and weaved to keep the beasts where she wanted them. She held her bull-whip at arm’s length but didn’t crack it, not wanting to start a small stampede.
Logan Du Rose owned the mountain, running a hotel, motel units, holiday park and a successful beef and horse stud business. His half-brother, Neville was the farm manager, but their communi
cation skills were sadly lacking sometimes.
“Well, furry babies,” Hana spoke to the calves, seeing twelve pairs of brown eyes turn towards her. “Now you’ve finished eating my front garden, you get promoted to the big paddocks. It’s been nice having you stay, but I wish you’d learned to poo in one place.”
The sparkiest of the bunch jerked his front feet as though to make a run for it and Hana moved her bull-whip as the group surged in a circle, pinned by her whip and Sacha’s exacting hooves. “I actually won’t miss you!” She directed her comment at the sparky steer with the glint in his eye as he circled and looked for an escape route. “Come on guys, I bottle fed you all and played mummy to you and this is how you repay me? Ingratitude is one of the ugliest sins, ya know?”
Knotty tails flicked against the midges swirling around in the humid bush landscape and the world was silent, except for the occasional snort or stamp. Sacha’s body tensed, waiting for one of them to break so she could give chase. Hana felt powerful muscles shift under her thighs. “Yeah, give me warning next time, Sacha. It’s great you know what you’re doing, but half the time I don’t. I’m not Logan; not even a poor substitute.” Hana turned her head a fraction, feeling the tension in the herd increase with the prolonged wait. Something caught her eye on the ear of the smallest calf. “Is that a pink ribbon?” she asked, incredulous. She bit back a smile at her daughter’s ingenuity. Her tiny children loved bottle feeding the calves. Two-and-a-half-year-old Phoenix and Hana’s son, ten-month old Mac, treated them like huge, furry pets, which was probably the reason Logan decided to move them.
“It’s open.” David cantered up the track on his leggy gelding and the small herd jerked in alarm. Hana lifted Sacha’s reins in an upward direction and lowered the whip. The white mare backed up into the bush until her fetlocks encountered the winding supplejack vine and then she halted, crunching on her bit and watching the cattle through experienced eyes.
“Get on!” Hana clicked her tongue and tapped the furry bottoms gently with her whip. They bunched together, their eyes rolling and frightened, staying close to her as their substitute parent. “Come on babies!” she protested and David snorted. Hana sighed. “Right guys, Mama’s gonna play dirty if you don’t move!”
Frustrated by David’s obvious disdain, Hana released the thong on her bull-whip and moved it out to the side. She nudged Sacha, so she was side on to the cattle and saw the mare’s skilled ears flick as her body tensed. Hana raised her arm, keeping the whip moving behind her, waiting until she heard the tail make a familiar swish as it straightened. Then she whipped forward, keeping her arm solid as she’d practiced many times. There was a terrific crack and the cattle surged, running and bucking along the track in a furry, cream rush. The biggest calf made a detour into the rugged undergrowth but changed his mind as the others left him. They hurtled down the narrow track as a bunch, spreading out as they turned the corner and spied the lush green grass ahead.
Hana turned with a look of smug satisfaction. It was wasted. David’s strong torso bent over his gelding’s neck as he cantered after the calves, his hooves kicking up dust and bush debris behind him. The Appaloosa’s tail lifted high in the air as he enjoyed the run, dispelling his pent up energy. David managed his reins in his left hand, his right arm straight with the coiled whip. “Well done, Hana!” she called after him, seeking his approval. He raised his arm in response and over the bull-whip, she spied the fingers making a rude gesture. “Telling Logan!” she shouted into the bouncing air molecules. The tui overhead cackled as David disappeared round the corner.
“Good girl, Sacha. I can tell you’re impressed.” Hana ran her hand down the glossy neck of Logan’s favourite mare, rewarded by a toss of the magnificent head. “Come on then, best get down and face the music. Logan and Nev need to start communicating!” Hana clicked her tongue and the mare danced into action, keen to follow the dappled gelding to the fresh grass.
Rounding the corner, Hana found David on the ground waiting. He held his horse’s reins and tapped the coiled bull-whip against the fabric of his jeans. “Nice of you to join us!” He kept the gate closed against the calves bunching around him and Hana tutted.
“Stop worrying, David! Nev told me to use the bush track, so we did. Logan will be fine and I won’t involve you.”
The stockman ran the back of his hand across his sweating forehead. “Just get in the bloody gate!”
Sacha took a step towards the gate and snorted at the gathered crowd behind it, threatening them with her blue wall eye, rolling in its sinister white rim. The calves moved backwards with slow hooves, not yet feeling their freedom in the acreage which rolled out behind them in a healthy green arc. David tapped the whip, growing more impatient by the second. Sweaty blonde curls poked from under his hat and his biceps flexed, communicating his irritation.
It came again. The echo of three shots fired together in quick succession. Hunter in distress.
Hana’s head whipped back towards the mountain and she saw the flutter of native birds as they rose from the trees in a sudden flurry, moving away from the alarm. “That’s the ridge above the forty-eighth,” she said, turning her eyes back to David’s worried face. “Someone’s in trouble.” With a flick of Hana’s reins the white mare whirled on her back feet and took off along the track, galloping uphill at a terrific pace.
“Get back here!” David yelled after Hana, coughing in the dust cloud she kicked up behind her.
“Radio it in!” she shouted over her shoulder as she disappeared back into the dense New Zealand bush.
Chapter 2
Freefall
“They don’t give me any credit!” Hana chuntered to herself. She led the horse through the thick undergrowth towards the ridge, getting her legs caught in the perilous supplejack vine and ripping her arms on bush lawyer. She stopped to tie another pink hair ribbon to a tree branch, looping it securely round and tying it. A line of them stretched back the way she came, fluttering in the light breeze and marking her route. “Thank goodness I forgot to put these in Phoe’s hair this morning,” she smirked. “Now I can pretend I always come into the bush equipped.”
Sacha snorted and Hana stroked the white brow with soft fingers. “Sorry, Sach. I’m just gonna shout again,” she warned. “Hello!” she yelled, causing the mare to blink and shake her head.
The going was tough and Hana felt scratched and prodded in every available space on her body. She drew to a halt facing the deep gully and turned to the horse. “I think you’re done now, girl. You can’t go any further.” Hana stroked the soft lips surrounding the metal bit and left a trail of blood from the cuts on her fingers. She inspected the horse’s legs which looked largely unscathed. “This was a stupid idea, Logan’s gonna be livid.”
The mare whinnied and stamped her furry foot in impatience.
“I’ll shout once more and then go home and face Logan’s wrath,” Hana sighed. “He’ll kill me. And then he’ll kill David. Maybe we can be buried together although after today, David’s dead body will probably move itself well away from mine.” Hana let go of the reins and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hello!” she shouted, hearing her voice carry across the ridge and into the canopy. It echoed back, disjointed and strange. Nothing.
“Okay, I quit.” Hana’s voice sounded flat as her mind ran through the lecture her husband would give her. Sacha tensed as the thin voice carried up the steep slope, the words unintelligible. Hana held her breath and looked at the horse’s blue eye, waiting to see if the sound came again.
“Somebody help me!”
Hana’s eyes widened. “There is somebody and we’ve found them!” She bounced on the soles of her cowboy boots with excitement. She peered into the cavernous drop and spied the smallest flash of fluorescent orange before it disappeared. “Stay still!” she shouted. “I’m trying to locate where you are.”
The orange shape moved back into view and stayed there long enough for Hana to pick a landmark. She hissed in frustration. “It�
�s a man and he’s near the derelict hut. It would’ve been easier to get there from our house on the other side of the mountain. What now?”
Sacha’s tack clinked and Hana bit her lip. “Are you hurt?” she yelled into the space below her feet.
The voice came back to her on the wind, sounding pathetic. “Broken leg.”
“Oh great, now I’ve done it!” Hana sighed at her own impulsiveness. She brought nothing to rescue the man with and no radio to summon help. David hadn’t followed her in her recklessness either.
“Help me!” The voice came again, whipped past Hana’s face by the up draught.
“I’m coming!” she called back, screwing up her face at Logan’s horse. “I kinda have to now,” she said to the mare’s impassive blue eye. “He’s expecting me to do something and I’m already in trouble.”
Hana breathed out through pursed lips and made a series of decisions. Sacha blew out her stomach as Hana undid her girth. The heavy stock saddle slipped off and Hana placed it on the cantle against a nikau palm. Undoing the throat lash, she took the bridle from the mare’s regal head and let her spit the bit from her mouth. Hana scratched her poll with nervous fingers and looked into the horse’s wise face. “Sacha, I need you to find Logan. Can you do that for me? Go home, Sacha. Find Logan.”
The mare shook her head from side to side and showered Hana with bush debris from her mane. Hana coughed and stamped her foot. “You know exactly what I mean, so do it, please?”
Sacha shifted her feet and Hana resorted to her badly spoken Māori, knowing it was nothing to do with the language but the tone of her voice. Somehow using her husband’s familiar tongue felt comforting. “Whai Logan! Ā kāti, karawhiua atu, hōiho! Please, Sacha. Go!”
Part Stationbred and part Appaloosa, Sacha turned her massive body in the small space at the top of the ridge, dislodging rock and soil which tumbled over the side. She picked her way back through the undergrowth, stumbling over the troublesome vines as she followed the route back to the track. Hana leaned over the ridge. “Help will be a good hour away,” she called. “But I’ll stay here.” She watched Sacha’s lumbering flank and gnawed on her bottom lip. “Silly horse could go anywhere now I’ve upset her,” she sighed.
