Ryan cleared his throat.
She looked up and found both men staring at her. Crap. Caught out big time. Thinking quickly, she placed a hand on the counter for balance.
‘I was just thinking how much I love your sturdy boots, Stirling.’ She lifted her feet out of her shoes. ‘Do you think they’d make them in my size? They’d cause a new craze amongst my friends back in Melbourne.’
There, that ought to fix it. She waited for a reply, but both men were transfixed by her shining purple toenails with their glinting faux diamonds sparkling in the light.
Jaime followed their gaze and wiggled her toes. They did look rather nice. The manicurist, God love her, had taken pity on Jaime’s unemployed state and given her the works seeing as it was her last appointment for quite some time.
Marble Man dragged his eyes from her feet, a rigid expression on his face. ‘I don’t think they do. In fact, I’m sure they don’t.’
What was he talking about? Oh, the boots. She took another glance at them. They were black leather, big and bulky, with chunky silver buckles. She looked back at her own chic, dainty shoes. What was she thinking? Crap, this was getting out of hand and all because she’d been caught staring at Stirling’s –
Ryan grabbed her arm. ‘I was just wondering if you’d like to come with me to the movies?’ The words came out in a rush.
She was silent. She’d been hoping he was joking about the date.
Ryan took her silence to mean she was considering it. ‘It’s tonight, the last show before Christmas. I could pick you up at five and then we’d have time for tea at the pub first.’
Tea? At the pub? How quaint. She guessed he actually meant dinner. The man looked so eager with his big puppy-dog eyes and floppy fringe. She was just opening her mouth to reply when –
‘Sorry, Ryan,’ Stirling McEvoy said, stepping forward to pick up the parcel the store owner had put on the counter. ‘It’ll have to be another time. She’s going to be busy with me.’
‘I am?’ said Jaime, swinging around to face him. Man, she kept forgetting how solid this bloke’s chest was.
‘Yep.’ Marble Man’s frown was so intent, his flinty blue eyes had all but disappeared. She really wished he wouldn’t do that. It looked … well, so threatening.
‘And what’s more,’ he went on, ‘she won’t be having tea at the pub.’
‘I won’t?’ Jaime said.
‘Nope. You’re having tea with me.’
‘What? Why?’
Stirling looked exasperated. ‘So we can get cracking on shooting rabbits.’
Shooting? Whoa, no way! She’d never shot a gun in her life. Well, except for the starting pistol at Little Athletics, and looking at the bullets locked into the under-counter glass case in front of her, it was clear that wasn’t the kind of gun they had in Burdekin’s Gap.
Ryan was glancing between them, obviously trying to follow the subtext. Jaime could have told him there wasn’t any. It was just Marble Man doing his major autocratic thing again.
‘What’s on at the pictures?’ she asked, turning her back on Stirling.
Ryan’s face brightened at the question. ‘Oh, it’s Christmas with the Kranks followed by National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. They like to show the old classics this time of year. It’ll be awesome.’
Jaime felt her heart sink to her toes. Christmas again. The bloody festive season wouldn’t leave her alone.
‘Oh, what a shame, I’ve seen both –’
‘You could see them again?’ interrupted Ryan.
‘– at least ten times,’ she finished.
Marble Man’s hand clamped down on her shoulder. ‘Guess that means we’ll be out hunting for little bunnies instead.’
She shrugged his hand off. ‘We’ll see about that.’ The thought of shooting anything turned her stomach. ‘Ryan, I’ll just grab my case and be going. Thanks for letting me know it arrived.’
Ryan dashed around the counter to get the leopard-skin case sitting by the door. He was beaten to it by the man in rippling black leather.
‘I’ll carry it out for you,’ said Stirling as he tucked his parcel under one arm and the case under the other. ‘After all, the contents and I are rather intimate friends.’
Ryan stopped dead, turned and looked at Jaime. She felt a blush rising up her neck and decided retreat was the best form of defence. Stiffening her back, head held high, she walked out the door behind Stirling, waving goodbye to the still frozen Ryan.
Flying across the gravel, she caught up with the man carting her case and his own package towards the Suzuki ute just in time to hear him say, ‘I hope you don’t mind taking this parcel home for me?’
Did she mind taking the package? No. But what he’d just implied in the store? Yes!
‘Why did you say that?’ she shot at him once they were standing on opposite sides of the ute tray.
Stirling was using a ratchet strap to tie down the case and his smallish box. The carton had CHRISTMAS LIGHTS – FRAGILE emblazoned across it.
‘Say what?’ he asked.
‘Insinuate to Ryan that … well, you know …’
‘No. I don’t know.’ He stopped what he was doing and stared at her, as if goading her to make a fool of herself.
Well, she wasn’t going to.
‘What did I insinuate?’ he prompted.
‘Never mind.’ She climbed into the ute, flinging one last sentence over her shoulder. ‘And I’m not shooting the Easter Bunny.’
‘Fair enough.’ Stirling flipped the loose end of the strap into the tray back, then leant down to the driver’s window. ‘But can you come and hold the spotlight so I don’t?’
Chapter 5
Jaime had planned to ignore both men’s invitations in favour of a long relaxing bath, but the thought of Ryan coming down the drive to double-check she really didn’t want to go to the movies kept popping into her head. Caught between a rock and a hard place, she decided shooting was the lesser of the two evils. Plus she didn’t want Stirling to kill the Easter Bunny either.
When she got to his weatherboard home around 6 pm, Jaime wondered why the man had invited her. He was as brooding, non-communicative and surly as ever.
She arrived at his back door (taking into account Ryan’s pointer from her first night at Polly’s Plains) and he took her around to the verandah. That nipped right in the bud any chance of finding out more about him through his home and belongings. Damn.
He held two roast beef rolls dripping with gravy and partially wrapped in tinfoil. Buster was gambolling at his heels, ears perked, only taking his eyes off the food to lick the drops of gravy off the ground.
Stirling grunted hello and unceremoniously handed her one of the rolls. She’d given up dinner at the pub for this? Gravy spilled from the folds of soft white bread as Jaime took the roll. She licked gravy off her fingers, and watched as Stirling’s eyes widened and followed the path of her fingers to her mouth. Impishly she grinned, and then slavishly licked one digit after the other.
Stirling spun and stormed off the verandah towards his four-wheel motorbike, which was parked on the gravel beyond the garden gate.
And what a garden it was. Surprised, Jaime looked around. Gladioli, yet to bloom, stood tall against a small shed. Lavender bushes trailed branches into a yellow banksia rose. Other bush and standard roses in all shapes and sizes hummed with bees in the early evening warmth, and the odd butterfly flitted through a compact but flourishing vegie patch.
Marble Man was a gardener? The man flummoxed her at every turn. Just when she thought she’d squeezed him into a metaphorical box, he went and turned it upside down and inside out.
‘You coming?’ he yelled.
Jaime practically ran down the path, dripping gravy as she went. Stirling had already finished his dinner, and Buster was perched on the rack at the back of the bike.
‘Where do you want me to sit?’ asked Jaime.
The rack at the front didn’t seem big enough. Plus it sported a w
eird holder that was currently cradling a mean-looking rifle.
‘Between me and Buster.’
Stirling moved forward two inches. Buster dipped his head towards her and whined, his big eyes never leaving her beef roll.
‘Great. Just great,’ she muttered. Why did this man like bikes so much?
‘What did you say?’
‘Nothing.’ She stepped on the footpeg Stirling had left free for her and swung her long leg over the bike, then settled herself, trying to leave an inch of space between her front and Stirling’s back. Thank heavens she’d worn leggings, figuring the night could get cold, otherwise her bare legs would have been up close and personal with Marble Man’s. She didn’t need that assault on her senses.
She tried to snatch a bite of the roll before they started moving.
‘Here, put this on.’ Stirling handed her a helmet over his shoulder. ‘The trip might get a bit hairy, and I don’t mean the furry kind.’
‘But I need to eat.’
‘And we have to go now.’
His head was turned towards a thunderstorm that seemed to be brewing out over the ranges. If he was so worried about it, why the hell were they even going? And why couldn’t he have allowed ten minutes to eat dinner in a civilised way? Men!
Despite the fact she was starving, she took a couple of quick bites of the roll, then swung around and gave Buster what he’d been hoping for. The dog’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head with gratitude as he delicately took the tasty meal out of her hand.
She swung back and pulled the helmet over her head.
Stirling started the bike, flung a look behind him to check she was ready, and took off, tyres spinning and throwing fine grains of gravel in all directions.
Jaime wondered how Buster was faring, but she couldn’t snatch a look as she was too busy grabbing hold of Stirling’s shirt in an effort to keep herself on the bike. As it took off even faster, she gave up on the shirt and went for a firm grip around his waist, hanging on for dear life.
With her legs now plastered against Stirling’s they raced down the hill towards the river. Her hair streamed out behind her as the wind whistled around her body. Starving or not, Jaime couldn’t help but grin. This was life. Freedom and adrenaline all mixed into one intoxicating cocktail. Her whole body seemed more alive right now than any time in the previous twelve months, possibly even the last few years.
Stirling took the bike through the river, the water splashing high and over her legs. She squealed, which caused him to hesitate in replacing his finger on the throttle. But he obviously heard her gurgles of laughter because she felt a guffaw come from his belly and saw him shake his head. His finger came down hard and he let the bike run back to speed again.
Driving up a winding track and then a steeper one again, he took each switchback smoothly, until they were at the top of the hill that overlooked the house, river and flats. After what seemed like forever, he finally brought the bike to a stop on a rocky ledge and made a motion with his arm.
Jaime pulled off her helmet and sat spellbound. Below them was the most incredible view she had ever seen. Polly’s Plains homestead stood on a rise way off to the east. Emerald-green and yellow-gold flats weaved drunkenly down a valley that disappeared into the next mountain range. The river, a silvery swathe, speared its way from one side of the flats to the other, undercutting rose-pink rock ledges and cliff faces in some parts, spreading broad and shallow in others. Looking over her shoulder, she could see bands of heavy black clouds with flashes of lightning brightening the horizon. But ahead of her, the whole valley was bathed in golden rays as the sun rapidly sank to its bed. It was like the rebellion of light against dark. And light was winning.
It was amazing. Extraordinary. Stunning.
And it was all laid bare for her, because Burdekin’s Gap and the nearest people were in the next valley. It was a staggering feeling. Allowing a sigh to escape from deep within, she realised it had been a long time since she’d felt so content.
‘The Rose River valley,’ said a soft voice. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’
She’d been so immersed in the wonder of it all she’d forgotten Stirling was there. Okay, so maybe there was another party privy to the scene in front of her, but surprisingly that didn’t matter.
‘Yes,’ she breathed.
The man fell silent. Except for Buster scurrying through nearby wattle bushes on the scent of something, all was quiet on their hill.
After a time Stirling said, ‘I wanted you to see this.’ He glanced over his shoulder at the storm clouds with an apologetic grimace. ‘That’s why we had to hurry.’
Jaime nodded. Even though her stomach was growling, the glorious display to the north, east and south was worth missing dinner for. ‘Thank you.’
‘My pleasure.’
They sat and watched until the last of the sun’s rays dipped over the horizon.
Stirling then whistled up Buster and fired the bike to life. ‘Let’s go find some bunnies!’
With one last wistful look at the valley now being claimed by the night, Jaime pulled on her helmet and tucked herself in behind the man who had orchestrated her seeing all this.
‘Okay, so here’s the light,’ said Stirling, handing her a large torch. ‘You’ll need to move it slowly across that scrub along the fence line.’
Jaime looked at the torch with distaste. She didn’t like the thought of killing anything, and she would have preferred not to be spying on little bunnies.
Stirling shook the light impatiently, gesturing for her to take it. As soon as she did, he hauled the rifle out of its holder, loaded the bullets into the magazine and slammed the magazine into the gun. He was all set to go.
Jaime swung the light fast in the direction he wanted, figuring it might give some of the poor little creatures a heads-up they were about to be toast.
‘Slowly, Princess. I can’t see a thing at that rate.’
Exactly, thought Jaime. But she moved the torch at a steady pace this time, the beam of light catching bobbing tails as bunnies dived under scrub.
THWACK! The rifle retort was hollow and dull. All the same she jumped at least half a foot in the air. But not as high as the bunny caught in the crosshairs of Stirling’s scope. It did a pirouette like a ballerina and fell down dead.
‘Gotcha, ya little bastard,’ said Stirling as he let loose with another bullet.
THWACK! Another dancing bunny leapt into the air.
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
The rabbits that made it into their burrows should have got tickets in TattsLotto, Jaime thought. The man never seemed to miss.
After he’d emptied his gun of bullets, Stirling moved the bike along to the next thicket. He loaded the magazine once more, pointed in the direction he wanted the spotlight to go, and started shooting again. Buster just sat and watched. Even he, Jaime thought, was a party to the whole shemozzle.
She could feel tears welling. Those poor little animals. What would all the mummy and daddy rabbits be saying to each other down in their burrows now? Well, we lost Peter, Flopsy and Mopsy tonight, but thank the Lord, Cotton-tail’s still here …
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
She wanted to yell STOP! She wanted to demand that he take her home. She wanted to say, Shoot me instead, but realised he’d think her demented. She argued with herself over the rights and wrongs of what he was doing. Hoped he was killing the rabbits for food or pelts. And on and on the shooting went, for what seemed like hours, until finally Stirling ran out of bullets.
He gestured for the spotlight, and stowed it on the rack at the front of the bike. Next he secured the gun, then turned to say over the din of the motor, ‘Well, that was a good night’s work.’
Jaime couldn’t answer. She was too choked up from silently crying. But Stirling couldn’t see that because her face was well hidden behind a helmet and by the darkness surrounding them. When she was little and afraid of the dark, her father had reassured her that the darkness was her fri
end, that while she couldn’t see what was out there, nothing could see her either. Right at this moment she was grateful for the dark. What would big, tough stockman Stirling McEvoy, aka Marble Man, think of her crying over bundles of rabbit fur? Definitely not much.
As they made their way back across the flats, through the river – no giggling this time – Jaime made a concerted effort to keep space between herself and the solid back in front of her. She was absolutely appalled. She couldn’t understand how he could just ride away and leave all those carcasses. Surely he’d shot the bunnies for a reason? But it didn’t appear so. It looked like he’d done it just for the thrill of it. There she was, thinking the man had a softer side. How wrong she’d been. In reality he was just a cold-hearted killer. How could he live with himself?
Stirling pulled the bike up in front of the Polly’s Plains homestead. Jaime had been so busy brooding, she hadn’t even realised they’d arrived home. She swung herself off the bike, clipping Buster with her leg. She’d forgotten the damn dog was there; he’d been so quiet. She glared at him as he gave a little yelp of fright. Serve him right.
Jaime reefed the helmet off her head, shoved it at Stirling and stormed down the garden path without so much as a thank you or goodbye. She knew she was being rude, but she was so angry she could spit.
‘Hey, Princess. Thanks for the hand,’ Stirling called after her.
Jaime kept walking. The homestead’s back door, lit by the porch light, looked like the entry to Utopia as far as she was concerned. So intent was she on getting away from Stirling McEvoy, she had forgotten about The Cat. A streak of blue-grey fur came flying from nowhere to attach itself to her leg.
‘Arghh!’ Jaime jumped, then scuttled sideways as sharp claws dug deep into her shin. ‘Get off, you crazy cat!’ She danced around in circles trying to shake the creature off.
‘Dodge, get off Jaime right now!’
Rose River Page 4
