Her Outback Protector

by Margaret Way

  “That’s a yes, Daniel,” she burst out, turning back to him. There was a little vein beating frantically at the delta of her throat. “I hated…I hated…”

  Images sprang to Daniel’s mind that gave him a chill. “He must have been a real sick, sad bastard, your stepfather. I’d like to meet up with him. As for your mother!” His face was dark with disgust.

  “Leave her out of it, okay?” she said fiercely. “She did her best.”

  “Some best!” Daniel threw himself down into an armchair.

  “Do you want me to wait here until you fall off to sleep?”

  Her beautiful eyes quieted. A passing ripple of expression told him she liked the sound of that, but she looked at him coolly, the twenty-year-old with attitude. “Kinda kooky isn’t it, Carson?” she challenged.

  “Not at all.” He shrugged, lifting his arms and locking them behind his head. “You’re not all grown-up until you’re twenty-one. Why don’t you just hop into bed and close your eyes. I promise I won’t leave until you’re fast asleep.”

  “Can we talk for a bit?” She slipped beneath the coverlet, her body so ethereal a man would have to shake the sheets to find her.

  “No,” he said firmly. “Plenty of time to talk tomorrow. Close your eyes now.”

  She sat up briefly. “Will you tell me something, Daniel?”

  “If I can.” Sometimes she sounded so darn endearing.

  “Wouldn’t you have liked a younger sister?”

  He thought of his early life the way it was. No place for a little sister. “There was only room for me and my mum.”

  “You’d have made a lovely brother, too.” She sank back again, sounding young and wistful.

  “Good night, Sandra,” he said pointedly.

  “All right, all right.” She plumped up the pillow, irritable again, then punched it. “By the way, thanks. Did I say thanks?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “One more request. Do you think I can have a glass of water?”

  “Okay.” He stood up, wondering briefly and wildly what it might be like to join her. “After that, you promise to be good?”

  “I promise.” She gave him an utterly beautiful smile.

  He walked into the ensuite, filled one of the glasses with water, then returned to the bedside. “Here.” He put the glass into her hand.

  She took a couple of quick gulps then passed the glass back to him. “I’m so glad you were here tonight. You’re really dedicated to your work, aren’t you, Daniel?” She stared up at him as though he just might give her a brotherly peck on the forehead.

  Instead he gave her a quick glance with silver eyes cool. “Yes, ma’am.” He put the glass down on the bedside table, then turned off the lamps, leaving one burning in the ensuite. He moved well away from the bed, resuming his seat in the armchair. Once there, he threw back his head and started to snore.

  “It’s all right, Daniel. I’ve got the message.” She giggled softly at the sounds he was making, snuggled up to the pillow and closed her eyes.

  “Don’t worry about a thing,” he murmured, letting his own eyelids drop. “I’m here.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  IN THE end Daniel was able to get them aboard a nine seater charter flight bound for the Alice. The station helicopter remained grounded in Darwin undergoing a more thorough inspection than the one hurriedly carried out at the swamp site. All Sandra knew was it had something to do with mechanical components in the tail rotor that had worked their way loose.

  It was almost noon before the twin engine Cessna landed on Moondai, depositing them on the station strip before taking off on the last leg of the flight into Alice Springs. The Alice as it is affectionately known is located almost in the very centre of the continent and the town that most symbolises the legendary Red Centre. Sandra had memories of going with the family to the annual fun carnivals the town put on. There was the annual Henley-on-Todd regatta when teams raced in leg-propelled, bottomless boats across the dry bed of the ancient river. Everyone, locals and tourists alike, delighted in the ridiculousness of it all. Then there was the Alice Springs annual rodeo with big prize money. Her father had often competed in that. But the festival she had most loved as a child was the riotous Camel Cup Carnival also raced in the dry bed of the Todd River. Those memories, mostly fond, reassured her if only slightly. She was extremely nervous of meeting up with her dysfunctional family again. Why wouldn’t she be? Her grandfather’s will had left her immeasurably better off than them.

  She looked around this remote world that was now hers. She had almost forgotten the size of the place, the primal still-ness like a great beast sleeping. The fiery colours of the earth contrasted wonderfully with the deep cloudless blue of the sky. “What, no welcoming party?” she quipped.

  “Amazingly, no.” Daniel picked up her luggage and piled it into the back of a station Jeep that was parked with the keys in it. “Did you want one?”

  “It’s all too late for that, Daniel,” she sighed with resignation. “You know and I know they hate me.”

  “Win them over,” he advised.

  “Don’t joke, I’m serious.”

  “So am I. Just give yourself and them a chance.”

  “Right!” She pulled a face. “I’ll have them eating out of my hand.”

  “Like me,” he said, dryly.

  She felt a flush of heat run right through her body. That had sounded so nice! “So what do you suppose Grandpop was thinking when he left the lion’s share to me?” she asked, trying to act cool.

  “Reparation?”

  “Maybe.” She raked her fingers through her cropped hair.

  “What’s the worst they can do to me, do you reckon? Carry on bitterly resenting me, or move right on to hatching more plans to get rid of me? And you, for that matter. I can’t wait until we get the final report on the chopper. It seemed very convenient to get downed in a crocodile infested swamp. I mean tiny ole me mightn’t have made much of a meal, but you surely would have.”

  “Well it didn’t happen. You turned into Annie Oakley right before my eyes. Anyway, you can bet your life there’ll be nothing to prove. The chopper held up for the flight from Moondai to Darwin. Anyway there’s no point in speculating. Let’s wait and see. Don’t be afraid.”

  “It takes courage to act unafraid,” she said quietly.

  “You’ve got it,” he said. She had proved that at the swamp.

  “How can you say that after what happened last night?” She frowned into the shimmering distance. The desert mirage was at play creating its fascinating illusions. Today it was long ribbons of lakes with vigorous little stick people having a corroboree around the shores.

  “Hey, don’t look so worried.” His tone was light. “What happened exactly? I stayed with you until you fell asleep which was almost immediately. I’m not so insensitive that I can’t understand what living with that stepfather of yours did to you. Besides you’re not alone in your fears of being on your own in a hotel room with some drunken oaf pestering you. It would upset most women.”

  “You think he’ll do it to someone else?”

  Daniel opened the passenger door for her. “I’ve had a word with a couple of people and they in turn will have a word with others connected to the hotel business. They’ll be on the lookout for him.”

  “He kept calling me blondie!” Sandra took her seat in the station vehicle.

  “Forget it. It’s over.” Daniel climbed behind the wheel beside her, turning the ignition.

  “Stay by me, Daniel,” she urged.

  The drive up to the homestead seemed to go on forever. She’d forgotten about all the space! They passed numerous out-buildings which all looked solid and cared for, painted a pristine white. Colourful desert gardens thrived around the married staff’s bungalows and the bunk houses for the single men. It all presented with so much character and appeal it could have been the setting for some Western movie.

  “Someone is doing a good job around here,” Sandra sai
d with approval as they approached the walled home compound.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Daniel took credit where it was due.

  “It makes me happy to hear you say that.”

  “It’d make me a lot happier if you wouldn’t call me ma’am.”

  He gave her an ironic glance. “Don’t take it personally. I’ll call you Sandra when we’re on our own. In front of your family and the staff I’d like to leave it as ma’am or Ms Kingston. Take your pick. Think about it, Sandra. It’s more respectful and it will make for fewer waves. I couldn’t imagine taking liberties with your grandfather and calling him Rigby. He was always Mr. Kingston.”

  “He was more than seventy!” Sandra pointed out scornfully.

  “Well until you’re approaching seventy I think I’d better stick to calling you Ms Kingston.”

  “How would you like it if I called you Mr. Carson? For that matter are you sure Daniel mightn’t be considered too familiar?”

  He shook his head. “No, Daniel’s okay. Your grandfather called me Dan. I should tell you now what you would have learned had you paid attention to the reading of the will. Your grandfather left me $250,000 on top of my normal salary providing I stayed on for a period of twelve months.”

  Her mouth fell open in astonishment. “Was that the only way he could get you to stay?”

  “You don’t think I might have earned it?” He glanced at her with glinting eyes.

  “Now that’s a stupid question. I’m sure he made you earn it. It’s just so unexpected. Did Grandpop find his heart at the last minute or was he counting on you to prop me up?”

  “Absolutely!” His voice sounded amused. “That’s until you make a decision, Ms Kingston.”

  She swung her head. “I don’t see anyone in the back seat.”

  “A little practice will make Ms Kingston come easier,” he told her reasonably. “I might have been in your grandfather’s good books, but that’s where it stopped. Lloyd and Berne bitterly resented my influence with him. Berne went ballistic when he heard about my legacy.”

  “When it had nothing to do with him,” Sandra said crisply.

  “They got plenty. They can stay in the house for as long as they like.”

  “That will make it hard all round.”

  “You bet!” she said drolly.

  They were driving through an avenue of venerable old date palms with massive trunks. It was all coming back to her. Beyond the eight foot high wall smothered in a bright orange bougainvillea she would get her first glimpse of the homestead from which she and her mother had been banished. At least the tall iron gates were wide open in some sort of welcome, launching them into the home gardens.

  The light dazzled. The wind caught boldly coloured blossom and sent it whirling to the ground. Native trees soared, all manner of eucalypts, acacias, casuarinas, a few exotics that had survived the dry conditions, clusters of the beautiful ghost gums she loved, underplantings galore, jasmine clamouring everywhere scenting the air.

  This is all mine!

  She spoke aloud in wonderment. “Can you believe it? I own all this.”

  “Lucky you!” Daniel said, giving her a sardonic look. From apprehension she had gone to excitement. The big question would be, did this place speak to her? Had she really come home or would she stay a while then put it on the market? He’d had experience of that. He knew had he been born to a splendid inheritance he would have used every skill he possessed to build it up further and hold it for his heirs. But fate was a fickle thing. Rigby Kingston had amassed wealth and a pivotal role serving his country as a big beef producer. He had lost the one son who might have been able to assume his father’s mantle but neither his remaining son nor his grandson had what it took to be a cattleman or to even play a significant role in the running of the station. How could Moondai fare better with a young woman at the helm? The cattle business had always been a male-orientated concern for obvious reasons. It was a hard life, too tough for a lone woman. Had Rigby Kingston mapped out a plan he hoped might work?

  The Kingston heiress was addressing a question to him, bringing him out of his speculations. “Just what do Uncle Lloyd and Berne do with themselves all day? They surely can’t sit around the homestead?”

  “Your uncle has his all consuming interest, botany.”

  “Still at it, is he?”

  “I understand his knowledge of the native flora is encyclopaedic. No small thing. Berne works around the station. Nothing too stressful.”

  “That must make it difficult for both of you as you’re not friends?”

  “Not even remotely,” he assured her, “but I try to give him space. Your uncle involves himself in the business side of things from time to time, though Andy Fallon—he’s an accountant and a good one—runs the office. Do you remember him?”

  Sandra shook her head. “He must have arrived after we left. What about Elsa? She might have been Grandad’s second wife, but Mum always called her The Ghost!”

  “Well she does move around the place very quietly,” Daniel said, thinking that was pretty well the way he too pictured Elsa. “She bothers no one.” Daniel was still wondering how Rigby Kingston had ever married such a socially inept woman, especially after the idolized first wife, Catherine, who had died fairly early of cancer. “Lloyd and Berne hardly acknowledge her, which is pretty sad. Meg is still the housekeeper. You must remember Meg?”

  “Of course! Meg stood on the front verandah tears pouring down her face as we were being driven away. She was always very kind to me, looking after me when Mum was away on her city jaunts.”

  Is that what Pamela had called them, Daniel thought cynically. City jaunts? He had heard so much about Pamela he now felt a lot of the bad stuff had to be true.

  “We’re almost here,” he said, casting her another quick glance. In the baking heat she looked as fresh as a daisy, her skin as smooth and poreless as a baby’s. She wore a neat little top almost the same colour as her hair and navy cotton jeans that were chopped off midcalf. The feisty look on her face, the angle of her small, delicately determined chin, were only self protection. He knew she was thrumming with nerves.

  And he was right. Sandra stood out on the broad paved circular driveway looking up at the house that had figured so frequently in her dreams. Now she was the owner, about to inspect the premises and renew her troubled relationship with her family. Not that she had ever considered Elsa, family, which was really odd given Elsa’s status. But Elsa had never involved herself, standing curiously aloof from them all. Her mother was right. Elsa had acted more like a visitor than mistress of Moondai. Strange behaviour from a woman who at one stage had run an Outback charter company with her first husband, a confirmed womaniser. Pamela always said divorce from that first philandering husband had dealt a blow to Elsa’s psyche from which she had never recovered.

  “So what do we do now?” Daniel looked to her for further instructions.

  “You come up with me,” Sandra said. “Every girl needs a Daniel when she’s walking into the lion’s den.”

  Moondai homestead was built of beautiful golden limestone, arcaded on both levels, the ground floor open, the upper level bordered by white wrought-iron balustrading. Tall, graceful vertical French doors set off the horizontal mass of the impressive façade. The shutters to the French doors were and always had been painted a subtle ochre to complement the golden limestone. The entrance hall was guarded by beautifully carved tall double doors with brass fittings that gleamed from many years of frequent polishing.

  As Sandra peered into the cool interior a tallish, thin figure suddenly appeared, ankle-length skirt flapping, as if caught in a draught.

  “It’s Elsa, Sandra,” Daniel prompted, in case there was any confusion. Elsa Kingston had aged a great deal even in the time he had been on Moondai.

  “Gawd!” Sandra breathed irreverently. This wasn’t the Elsa she remembered. Elsa had been a handsome blonde woman showing her German heritage in her bone structure and colouring. Not only h
ad she aged she’d lost stones in weight.

  Elsa approached, holding out her arms. “Alexandra! Welcome home, my dear.”

  Sandra responded at once. “Forgive me, Elsa, I didn’t recognize you for a moment.”

  “I dare say I’ve changed a lot.” Elsa not only hugged her, but she kissed Sandra on both cheeks.

  “I suppose I have, too,” Sandra answered tactfully, dismayed by Elsa’s appearance and trying hard not to show it.

  “Thank you for the welcome.” As a child Elsa had never ever so much as patted her on the head. Why now the affectionate greeting, even if she was grateful for it?

  “Let me look at you!” Elsa stood back, staring at Sandra with eyes that had faded from their clear, striking light blue to almost colourless. Her once fine-grained skin was a maze of wrinkles. Clearly she hadn’t cared for it in the Outback sun. Her long thick blonde hair, once her best feature, she had allowed to turn a yellowish-grey. Today it was bundled into a thick knot with stray locks flying loose. She wore no makeup to brighten her appearance. Her clothes could have been bought at a Thai street stall. The whole effect was one of eccentricity. Sandra felt a deep stirring of pity. This shouldn’t be! Elsa looked as if the life had been drained out of her.

  “You’re still the image of your mother,” Elsa was saying, “though you’re so thin. I can’t catch even a glimpse of your poor father.”

  “Nevertheless his blood runs through my veins,” Sandra said, determined not to become upset. “Daniel will be staying in the house for a while, Elsa. I intend to learn as much as I can about the operation of Moondai in the shortest possible time. I want my manager on hand.”

  Elsa didn’t look like she was about to argue. “Just as you say, dear.” She nodded. “It’s a very big house. There’s plenty of room. What about the west wing?”

  “I’ll look around first,” Sandra said, softening it with a smile. The west wing was about as far away from the main bedrooms as one could get. She endeavoured to move forward, but Elsa seemed oblivious to the fact she was blocking the way. “Where’s the rest of the family?” Sandra couldn’t prevent the touch of sarcasm.