The Ranger in the Hills: A Heartwarming Australian Outback Romance

by Lucy Walker

  What gum trees could do, she, Katie James, could do.

  She shook out her hair again so that the air could cool her where the damp strands still clung to her temples. The sunlight, hot and bright caught the movement and Katie’s hair shone brown-gold with red in it, against the shadows in the trees behind.

  The expression in Bern Malin’s eyes eased fractionally.

  He looked away from the girl as if somewhere out there in the distance he would find an inspirational answer to this dilemma.

  Leave the girl and take the boy? Leave them both, or take them both?

  ‘The bush is no place for a girl,’ he said, his eyes coming back to her face, the expression in them grave now but not so cold, nor so ruthless.

  ‘I come from the bush,’ she said. ‘The Dust Bowl.’

  ‘How far from the nearest town?’

  ‘Twenty-five miles.’

  ‘I’m taking Andrew more than five hundred miles.’

  ‘Andrew and me.’

  ‘Andrew and you?’

  His eyebrows shot up. He nearly smiled. There was a touch of the quizzical in his expression.

  ‘You have courage, Katie James. I suppose your name is James? The same as Andrew’s?’

  Katie’s chin went up.

  ‘Yes. I am my father’s daughter too.’

  This time he really smiled, and this shook Katie. It took the pride out of her and cooled the hot words she was making ready to use if he suggested once again that he took Andrew alone.

  She was at his mercy ‒ if he was the only person who knew where Gideon Dent could be found.

  She had to pretend pride and confidence, so the chin stayed firm, tip-tilted upwards. Her blue eyes looked at him steadily.

  ‘We are ready to come with you as soon as you say ‒ if it is to take us to Gideon Dent,’ she insisted. ‘We have nothing important to do in Malley’s Find.’

  Bern Malin lifted his hat and put it forward so that it crowded his brows, throwing a shadow over his eyes. All that Katie could now see of them was a pair of grey slits.

  ‘We had better go over to the hotel and have some tea,’ he said at length. ‘We can talk it out over there.’

  The floor of the hotel veranda was ground level and made of stone set deep in the earth. The great wide veranda was held in place by axe-hewn timber pillars. The walls were squares of freestone, white-washed like the cottages she had once seen in the English countryside when a very small child. The shade under the veranda, the cool stone floor and wall, made coming in from the outside world a retreat from a furnace.

  ‘Not enough air inside the hotel,’ Bern Malin said, pulling up cane chairs to a small table. He held one chair for Katie while she sat down. She shook her hair again. It had almost become a habit since that Overlander had dusted its way out of Malley’s Find. Perhaps she was apprehensive, after all.

  ‘It’s beautiful here,’ she said, feeling she must make some few passes at conversation.

  ‘The old colonials built well.’

  Rebellion stirred inside her. She couldn’t afford to show it. She had to be calm, and, more important, appear to be calm.

  Andrew arrived and stood politely waiting for the older man to sit down.

  ‘Take the chair next to your sister, Andrew. You might pay attention to her needs ‒ as an exercise in chivalry. It’s a part of the growing up process to think of other people.’

  Katie blinked. Her small round chin firmed indignantly.

  They were all three sitting down now, forming a half-circle at the table so they could look out from under the shade of the veranda to the sun glare over the world beyond.

  The stubble paddocks; the fierce beat of the sun on the gravel road; the peeling paint from the store, made it a golden world in the heat haze.

  Andrew had not been interested enough in the stranger’s words to be aware of the sting. That, Katie knew, was Andrew’s salvation from hurt.

  Nice to be Andrew!

  One hand, lying folded in her lap, told Bern Malin what was going through her mind.

  ‘They’ll come and take our tea order in a few minutes,’ he said abruptly. ‘Meantime would you please explain how you come to be here, Miss James? It was a risky venture; an unexpected move, surely?’

  Katie’s hand in her lap tightened.

  ‘We are visiting our relative, Gideon Dent,’ she said stubbornly. The man already knew this. Why did he ask again? ‘We would be grateful if you could help us to find him.’

  ‘We? You mean Andrew wants to find him?’

  ‘No, both of us. I did mention that before, you know. Andrew is a minor and I am responsible for him.’

  ‘How old are you, Miss James?’

  Katie flushed, then tilted her chin.

  ‘Nineteen, Mr. Malin. Quite old enough to look after Andrew. In fact I have been looking after Andrew, and my father, for some years.’

  Why did she have to tell him?

  There was a sardonic quirk to the man’s smile.

  ‘Not old enough in law, I’m afraid. Or without the help of Gideon Dent. You are a minor yourself. In fact, if the attention of the authorities were drawn to Andrew’s position they might ask some awkward questions. For instance ‒ have you the means to support and educate him? Can you provide him with a home?’

  ‘I think Gideon Dent will be able to vouch for us,’ she said with confidence. The hand in her lap was showing white on the knuckles.

  Bern Malin pushed his hat under the chair and turned to the woman coming through the main doorway to take the tea order.

  ‘Tea for all of us, if you please,’ he said without consulting Katie or Andrew. ‘Hot scones? Splendid! You might bring a double lot as we have far to go. Could you bring some fruit and ice-cream later? Peaches are ripening in the valley, I think.’

  He was looking at the kindly face of the woman as he gave the order.

  ‘Peaches have been coming in off Elbert’s farm out by the Newsome Creek this last week,’ the woman said cheerfully. ‘Can let you have some for the trip too, if you want. You come far? Going far?’ He was a stranger, this man. The young people too. She was friendly, yet curious. A stranger always caused wonder.

  ‘We’ve come far and are going far. Yes, thank you, I’ll take a case of peaches if you can get a man to put them in the boot of the car for me.’

  The woman, disappointed at not drawing him out, gave Katie a faint smile and went back into the hotel.

  We have far to go, Katie thought.

  So he meant to take her, after all.

  That is, if …

  If what? He knew Gideon Dent or he would not have come for Andrew. He wouldn’t have known about Andrew except for the letter she had written to Gideon Dent. Would she go with him to wherever this far-off place was?

  She looked at his face.

  He knew every question and answer that had flitted through her mind. She saw it in his eyes.

  ‘Where were we?’ he asked. ‘Back to the fact that you are a minor, Miss James. That being the case, and whether I like it or not, it seems that Gideon Dent will have to be responsible for you both.’

  Her spirits rose a little.

  Yes, she thought, she could trust him. She didn’t think she would like him, but she could trust him. No, that wasn’t fair either, because it wasn’t all. Remembering the rare smile, she knew she could have liked him very much except that a smile wasn’t enough to make her forgive his sarcasm at Andrew’s expense. That showed he could be cruel.

  ‘I would be very grateful if you could help us,’ Katie said soberly. ‘I’m sorry if I have put you to extra trouble by being here myself. I had to look after Andrew ‒’

  ‘Back to the principle of looking after Andrew? Shall we have our tea and talk about that later? Meantime, I find myself responsible for both of you.’ He paused, then added flatly, ‘I can’t leave you alone here, Miss James. Believe me, I would do just that, if it were possible.’ He meant it.

  His voice eased unexpectedly to
one of faint amusement as he added: ‘Gideon Dent might not care for it if I left you to the mercy of Malley’s Find. A lonely young woman in a town of four people ‒ the hotel keeper and his wife, the store-keeper and his wife.’

  ‘I think he would rather I came with you. That is, if he knew Andrew ‒’

  ‘Back to Andrew again. Please, Miss James, I insist. Leave Andrew out of your calculations for once. Both he and you would be better off if you could manage that. Andrew will be well taken care of. It is yourself who is the problem. The bush is no place for a woman ‒ alone. Did I say that before?’

  Katie lifted her head. It was a pretty if very proud little head ‒ its red-brown cap of hair had gleams of sunshine in it.

  ‘Not a problem to Gideon Dent,’ she said. ‘He is our relative.’

  Bern Malin’s eyebrows went up again.

  ‘Oh? You know him well? You know just what his reactions to the unexpected arrival of a young lady would be?’

  ‘How do you know I am uninvited, Mr. Malin? Are you so close to my cousin that you know what is in his mind?’

  ‘Do you mean did I read his correspondence? Bluntly ‒ yes, I did. Oh, with his permission, I assure you. I understand exactly how you are placed, how limited are your financial resources and that you are not qualified in any way to be responsible for the maintenance, upbringing and education of this very self-centred young brother of yours.’

  Katie’s lips were stiff.

  ‘Then there is nothing more to be said between us, is there, Mr. Malin? I would be very grateful if you would take us to our cousin now. You said we had far to go.’

  ‘Not until we’ve had tea. It’s coming, if the sound of rattling teacups means anything. Remember Andrew must be fed to be reared.’

  Their eyes held in a silent war with one another.

  ‘Would you please not make Andrew my whipping boy,’ Katie said coldly. ‘None of this situation is his fault.’

  The woman arrived at the table with a loaded tea-tray. Katie with great dignity began to place the cups and saucers so that she could pour out.

  ‘Nice time of day to be setting out,’ the woman said chattily. ‘Cool of the evening’s the best for travel. You said you had a long way to go, mister? You following the creek, or making inland?’

  ‘A little of both.’ Bern Malin sounded almost casual: but not quite. ‘Those scones look excellent. I’m sure the young man here needs a good meal.’

  Andrew had not taken the slightest interest in anything that had been said between Katie and this tall stranger. He had been watching the shadow pattern of the gum leaves from the trees by the store as they cast a mosaic of dark and light on the gravel road. If he wondered about anything it was that the red and gold of the westering sun had not yet lit up the gum tips of the tops of the branches; yet ground shadows were growing longer. He found this a mystery of absorbing interest. Gold in the leaf tops should have come first.

  ‘Andrew ‒ some scones, dear. There is some apricot jam. I’ll put it on ‒’

  Katie bit her lip.

  There she was, looking after Andrew again!

  She did not look up to see how Mr. Malin was taking this. She knew without looking. She went on talking quickly, this time to the woman who had brought the tea.

  ‘It all looks beautiful,’ she said. ‘I’m quite hungry. The peaches will be lovely …’

  Suddenly she could cry.

  ‘Milk in your tea?’ she asked Bern Malin, not looking at him. He would have seen that her eyes were moist with unshed tears.

  His voice was unexpectedly gentle. ‘Black tea, thank you. No sugar.’

  She swallowed the assortment of lumps in her throat and stared so hard at the tea she was now pouring that the very effort dried out her eyes.

  ‘Well, what with the case of peaches Jim Sykes’ll put in your car, mister,’ the woman was saying, ‘it’ll all come to about ‒’

  ‘I will come inside and settle the account with you presently,’ Bern Malin interrupted her. ‘I’ll need some other stores. A case of soft drinks if you have them.’

  The woman brightened. Business was sparse enough on such a lonely by-road to welcome the prospect of selling a whole case of soft drinks, and the peaches. There were other drinks too.

  ‘We’ve every brand ‒’ she began eagerly.

  ‘Splendid. I’ll come into the bar to order in a few minutes.’

  Katie was sorry for the woman. She was a kindly pleasant person; probably lonely enough in this lonely hotel to want to know all about her customers. Bern Malin was not helpful. To her, he was the man who was a stranger, and clearly he was going to leave it that way.

  They drank their tea in a near silence. Katie was no longer hungry but she was determined to eat scones for the look of it.

  Andrew never had a great appetite but he ate well now. He eagerly helped himself to the peaches and ice-cream when they were brought.

  Bern Malin took his afternoon tea as if nothing untoward was going on. He had an air of casual remoteness from the scene that did not fool Katie.

  When he excused himself and went into the hotel Mrs. Brown came out to the veranda again and asked Katie if she would like a wash and brush-up. There was a room specially for passing travellers. The young man ‒ meaning Andrew ‒ could use one at the end of the passage on the right of the main door.

  ‘Nothing like getting some of the dust off before you start,’ she said cheerily. ‘Makes room for plenty more once you get out on the gravel tracks. Mr. Malin, they say inside, is a stranger in these parts but he’s come this way before ‒ through the Gap in the range. My husband says he remembers that car back a month or two ago. There aren’t any other cars like that round here. A big ’un, isn’t it? Come far too, by the look of it.’

  Katie thanked her for her kindness, specially for the fresh sun-dried towel and the new cake of soap that was given her.

  ‘It’s very kind of you,’ she said.

  ‘Not a bit. If we don’t do for travellers when they come through, then no travellers come through. Keeps trade cheerful.’

  Katie determined to remember this kindly woman who she now discovered was the hotel licencee’s wife. If she and Andrew found themselves in a place from which they had to retreat this would be a temporary haven for them. In the meantime she had to trust Bern Malin, a stranger or not, because she had no alternative.

  She had glanced at his retreating back as he had gone into the bar to settle his account. The way he walked ‒ the calm authority and assurance and yes, something else that defied explanation, or definition, in his bearing. Something indestructible; like honour is ‒ even when its bearer is dead.

  He was a man to trust, even if he was not friendly. She knew it instinctively.

  Chapter Two

  The shadows were longish across the gravel road when Katie and Andrew set out with Bern Malin in the big tawny dust-covered car.

  The case of peaches, the soft drinks from the hotel, together with another case of goods from the store across the road, had been stacked away in the boot.

  ‘I’ll have young Andrew up in the front seat with me,’ Bern Malin said. ‘That way we might discover some language of communication. Do you mind, Miss Katie?’

  Katie thought only of Andrew’s inability to communicate with anyone, much less this apparently stony-hearted man. Another glance at him as he checked the engine of his car reassured her. He might be hard, but she and Andrew would be safe with him. That thought gave her wonderful comfort.

  As the car sped through its own dust cloud down the road, turning into a cross-track out between yellow grassed paddocks and jam trees on either side, where the cattle still stood against the fences under the shade, Katie thought about Gideon Dent.

  Because he was her father’s cousin ‒ the person in whom they were taking refuge ‒ she built up, in her own imagination, a picture of him. He would be someone ‒ a kinsman ‒ whose open arms would welcome the travellers in. There would be journey’s end. Travel
stains and near tears would be gone for ever. She and Andrew would be safe.

  He would be tall and strong like Bern Malin, wired hard by a life in the outback, but kind. A friend. Someone of their own.

  Katie, in spite of the short letter that had come in reply to her plea for help for Andrew, had to dream for she needed comfort ‒ very badly.

  ‘No one in my father’s family was ever anything but kind,’ she told herself. ‘My father told me that. He said, “Gideon Dent will look after you”.’

  Her father would not have been wrong. He would have known.

  In front of her Bern Malin had forgotten that he had put Andrew beside him for purposes of communication. Neither spoke at all.

  Katie, in her day-dream of her cousin’s welcoming arms, had recovered her old spirit ‒ the one that had brought her two thousand miles across Australia to make sure her young brother arrived at his destination safely.

  ‘What is Gideon Dent like to look at?’ she asked Bern’s back.

  There was quite a silence in the speeding car as Katie waited for her answer. Then it was broken with a question, not an answer.

  ‘What were you expecting him to look like?’

  ‘I don’t know. Like my father a little, I suppose.’

  ‘In some ways you might be right.’

  Katie was puzzled.

  ‘How do you know?’ she asked gently. ‘You did not know my father. Did Gideon talk about him?’

  ‘A little.’

  Katie’s bright blue eyes shone.

  ‘So, he remembered him?’ she said softly.

  ‘So he remembered him!’ The reply was almost sardonic.

  Katie, lost again in this unexpected lift in her spirits, failed to notice the odd note in Bern Malin’s voice.

  Suddenly she liked this man in front, driving the car as if it was a fire-eating demon racing its way through the trees, edging off the gravel road to the earth track that, now slithery with sand, turned towards the Gap in the eastern hills.

  Looking between Andrew’s head and the man’s shoulders, she could see the sky through the wedge of that Gap. It was beginning to shine now with a fiery pink overlying the blue. This was the reflection of the sun’s sinking behind them in the west.