Outback Bachelor

by Margaret Way

  They spread out, five of them now with Rachelle and Eddie out of the game. For the plan to succeed they had to head Mooki off. Turn him round. The mob would follow. It took nerve, but they forced themselves on, trying to ignore the heat of the day. Gradually the mares came down to a canter, one of the mares in foal dropping out of the race. The rest of the harem was slowing. Mooki and the colts were dead set to fight for their freedom. Keefe had plotted their course of action in advance. Yalla Creek wasn’t all that far off. The sandy bed would prove heavy going for all the horses, including their own. The danger was that the youngsters in the mob would endeavour to get to the opposite side of the creek. The trick was not to give them the opportunity.

  Keefe thundered past her, his bush shirt stuck to his back with sweat. He was taking chances, but he was a splendid horseman and his big gelding had endurance and a fabulous turn of speed.

  Incredibly, out of nowhere a group of adult emus, standing nearly two metres high, decided to join in the chase. They must have felt threatened in some way because they put on a tremendous burst of speed—they were capable of sixty kilo-metres an hour—outrunning the tiring horses. It was a fantastic sight and would have been very funny if it hadn’t been so dangerous to man and beast.

  Heart in her throat, Skye found her second wind. She picked up her own speed, fanning out wide with Rob fanning away to her left. What if an emu decided to veer across their tracks? Years before a mounted stockman had been killed in a freak encounter with an irate emu protecting its nest. The only thing that surprised her was that a mob of kangaroos hadn’t joined in. Give either species, just a hint of a chase and it was on!

  Ahead Keefe and one of the stockmen had Mooki boxed in. Skye and Rob brought up the rear, with the remaining stockman going to their assistance. The brumby stallion was as good as penned. Only not to be outdone, Mooki took a mighty plunge into the creek, his hooves threshing about in the loose sand, his heaving sides lathered in sweat. A few of the colts hesitated, as though they knew they’d be bogged down in the sand, but the others followed their leader.

  Inside ten minutes it was all over. The flightless emus, satisfied there was no threat being posed to them, trotted off sedately on their long grey legs. Keefe took his pick of the worn-out colts. The others, including the old war horse, Mooki, he let go.

  “Really should shoot the ugly old thing!” Rob muttered. “He’s a real pest.”

  “No need.” Keefe would only shoot a horse when he absolutely had to. “Mooki is on his last legs. Have to hand it to him. He’s a game old guy. What we have to do now is yard the colts. Not a bad bunch. We should be able to turn them into good working horses.”

  It turned out to be a hollow victory.

  “I don’t like the look of that sky.” Keefe stared upwards with a frown on his brow. He had been sensing trouble for a while now. Familiar as they all were with the dry electrical storms, many times he found himself relying on a mix of intuition and experience for further developments. The mushrooming masses of steel-grey and black were almost directly overhead. It would be a miracle if there was rain in them. Still, the odd miracle did happen.

  Thankfully they had finished constructing a makeshift holding yard, using stout coolabahs for posts. The colts had gone in quietly enough but now they were starting to mill about as glaring silver-blue flashes of lightning rent the heavens, followed by loud booms of thunder.

  “Better take cover,” Keefe shouted over the abruptly rising wind. Their own horses were tied up securely. The stockmen set to arranging a tarpaulin as some sort of shelter. “Go on, Skye. Move it,” Keefe ordered, over the howl of the wind. This was one time he wished she weren’t there.

  “You’d better move it too,” she shouted back at him. “I don’t like the look of this either.” There could be a short sharp deluge, or the whole thing would pass yet again. It was those jagged lightning bolts that posed the danger.

  “I’m not going to stand here arguing.” Keefe seized her, easily gathering her up with one arm and sheltering her with his body. They made a race towards shelter but didn’t make it before a lightning bolt, like a gigantic flashing mirror, shot down the sky like a missile and buried itself in the centre of the tallest gum. The strike was so bright it seared the eyes. Momentarily blinded, Skye felt Keefe’s strong arm tighten to steel as he pitched her beneath the tarpaulin where she went sprawling on her hands and knees. Slightly winded, when she opened her eyes it was to see him turning back to free the penned colts.

  The huge gum tree was still holding but fire was blossoming all over it so it stood like a towering armed statue alive with electric-blue flame.

  The screams from the colts were horrifying; near human in terror, severely unsettling the station horses that were out of harm’s way. Eddie had sprung to attention, going to Keefe’s aid. Sooner or later the tree was going to explode. What then?

  Skye started praying for a miracle.

  Please bring on the rain.

  She couldn’t remain in the shelter. Surely they needed every pair of hands. Shakily she rose to her feet, feeling pain around her midriff where Keefe had grabbed her. Swiftly she made the judgment she would be best employed helping Rob tackle the far corner of the yard. Her bandana would have to act as a glove. She ripped it off, wrapping it tightly around her right hand. There wasn’t a second to lose.

  Keefe caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. “I told you to keep back, Skye,” he roared. “We’ll handle it. Do what I tell you.”

  “I’ll be okay!” she defied him, realising she was probably the only person on Djinjara who would dare to.

  The truly bizarre thing was the wonderfully intoxicating smell of the burning tree.

  “Hurry, Skye, we can do it!” Rob yelled to her, thrilled by her sheer guts. The heat was so intense they risked getting scorched but the focus was on freeing the wild horses.

  She couldn’t run away and hide. She had to face it. Do her bit.

  Keefe’s end of the makeshift yard predictably fell first, quickly followed by a general collapse. The terrified horses bolted out of the wrecked enclosure, galloping in a frenzy of fright for the open plain.

  “Get to the gully.” Keefe threw out an imperative hand, racing back to where the station horses were tethered. He untied the terrified animals, sending them on their way with a hard slap on the rump.

  “Do you ever do what you’re told?” Keefe got a fierce grip on Skye, half lifting her off the ground as they made a run for the gully, where he plunged them both in. It was from there, standing thigh deep in yellow brackish water, that they watched the gum tree come down with a mighty roar, sending up a billion sparks and a high, spiralling tongue of flame. That intoxicating smell of burning eucalyptus wood saturated the air.

  Then came the smoke. Not good. That started them off coughing. Keefe buried Skye’s head against his chest, his bush shirt sodden with gully water.

  “Phew!” he exclaimed hoarsely. “I’ve never seen anything like that in my life.”

  Tentatively Skye lifted her head, her sensitive nostrils flaring at a new scent on the air. Sulphur. “Keefe, I think it’s going to rain,” she said, wonder in her voice.

  Keefe threw up his water-slicked dark head, his expression matching hers. “It is!” he said in amazement.

  “Gosh, isn’t that wonderful?” The moment seemed so ecstatic, words just bubbled up as if from an underground spring. “Want to kiss me?” she challenged, turning up her wet, glowing face.

  “Do I!” He reached for her with tremendous urgency. The rain came pelting down…He continued to hold her, kissing her fiercely, never moving his mouth from hers. Mouths and bodies were fused wetly, unmistakably passionately together. They appeared to be oblivious to everyone and everything, even the rounds of clapping and the gleeful whoops!

  Time to go home, Rob Sullivan thought, stunned by all he had witnessed. Now this! Keefe was a magnificent guy.

  I guess he needs a magnificent woman.

  The n
ight before she was due to fly out of Djinjara on the first leg of her way home—Robert was heading back with her—Skye was invited up to the Big House for dinner. The invitation had been issued by Lady Margaret. She understood it had to be obeyed. She felt a violent tug of war on her emotions. She desperately wanted to be with Keefe before she left and she wanted to spend that last evening with her father.

  “Go, love, go!” Jack expressed his encouragement. “Lady McGovern thinks the world of you.” He paused for a telling moment. “So does Keefe.”

  “The kiss got around?” Skye faced her father across the table.

  “Yeah, well, what did you expect, love? We all know you and Keefe share a bond. I sort of thought of it as…affection?”

  He sounded worried, Skye thought. How had he missed her real feelings for Keefe? He was her father after all. Or had he deliberately chosen to hide from what had been right under his nose? Damaged people did. “You have a problem with me kissing Keefe, Dad?” she prompted, fully aware her father was a man who, in his own words, “kept his place”. Was he worried that he could possibly lose his job as a result of this new development?

  “Problem?” Jack’s expression suddenly relaxed. “As I heard it, he grabbed you!”

  Skye reached for his hand. Now wasn’t the right moment to confide in him. “It was just one of those things. You know how it is. The rain coming down at that precise moment was fantastic. Like a gift from Heaven. It put out the fire.”

  “Still, a kiss?” Jack, not to be put off, searched her eyes.

  “A kiss, Dad. That’s all.”

  Jack scoffed. “A single kiss can change a life. I should know. So how is this kiss going to affect everyone at the house? I reckon you ought to prepare yourself for some attack from Rachelle. By the way, Scott’s girlfriend turned up this afternoon when you were out taking photographs.”

  She nodded. “I noticed a plane fly over when I was taking shots of Manguri.” She referred to Djinjara’s revered desert monument. “By Scott’s girlfriend, you mean Jemma Templeton?”

  Jack nodded. “That’s the word. Plain girl, but very sweet and gracious. Too good for Scott, I fear. He won’t be faithful.”

  “I expect not,” Skye sighed. “You think they’ll make a match of it?”

  “I’m more interested in what’s going on between you and Keefe.” Jack continued to study Skye’s face. “It seems to me in a perfect world, you’d be perfect for each other. But in the real world there’s me, your dad. Plain old Jack McCory, station overseer, a man who had to leave school at fourteen. You can take your place anywhere, you’re a beautiful, educated woman, but I’m just good old Jack. Are you anxious about that, love?”

  Skye’s tender heart melted. “How could I possibly be anxious about you, Dad? I love you. Never mind with the McGoverns. Anyway, Keefe thinks very highly of you. You wouldn’t be overseer if you couldn’t handle everything that’s thrown at you.”

  “True.” Jack felt quite secure in his own capabilities as Djinjara’s overseer. “But socially, I mean. The McGoverns are Outback royalty. We both know that. Look at it from the family’s point of view.”

  “You’re jumping too far ahead, Dad.” She strove to slow him down, though she herself was concerned about the McGovern’s reactions.

  “If Keefe kissed you—in front of everyone—it means he couldn’t care less about what anyone thinks,” Jack reasoned. “I see it as the equivalent of a commitment. Especially from Keefe. It wouldn’t mean much coming from Scott, but Keefe is something else again.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” she said quietly. “But I’m sure the family is expecting Keefe to do a whole lot better than me. Best to face it squarely, Dad.”

  “Damn it all, he couldn’t do better,” Jack stoutly maintained. “But we both know the McGovern clan are first-class snobs. That Rachelle has given you hell over the years.”

  Skye sighed. “She has in her way, but it’s not so much snobbery, Dad. Rachelle has convinced herself I robbed her of her brother’s affection. It’s not true, but that’s the way she feels. She doesn’t have a lot of insight into her own behaviour.”

  “Have you and Keefe come to any sort of agreement?” Jack asked tentatively. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. At least, not until there’s something to say.”

  “There’s nothing to say, Dad.” She shook her head. “Keefe and I have always shared a strong bond but we haven’t moved on. There are all sorts of difficulties.”

  “I can see something is weighing heavily on your mind. Don’t worry, I won’t ask. I’ll wait for you to tell me. You’re the best daughter in the world.” He covered her hand with his own.

  Jack drove her up to the house at seven sharp. She had anticipated being asked to dinner at least once so she had packed a pair of black evening trousers worn with a simple black top with a sapphire-blue satin trim. She clipped on silver earrings and a rather lovely silver cuff. Black high heels and she was ready to present herself for McGovern inspection. She had learned Jemma’s parents had arrived with her. The father, Farleigh Templeton, had been piloting his Beech Baron.

  Keefe was waiting for her in the hallway. Immediately she felt that manic upsurge in her blood. It was hell to be so passionately in love with him. She should stay away from him entirely.

  You can’t do that. He’s in your blood.

  And there it was again. The question of blood.

  “You look beautiful, very chic!” His brilliant gaze flared over her, taking in every last detail.

  The pride in his voice made her heart ache. How had she found the strength to deny him when he had wanted her? Yet she had. There was such a cloud hanging over them.

  “You know the Templetons are here?” He took her arm, his long fingers a caress.

  “Dad told me. Maybe they want to put a bit of pressure on Scott?” she suggested.

  “I wonder if that would be wise.” Keefe’s expression went wry. “Right now I can’t think Scott would make a good husband. He has a bit of maturing to do.”

  “How would you rate yourself as a potential husband?” She gave him a sideways glance.

  “What a question!”

  “Maybe you can’t or won’t bring the same singularity of purpose you apply to everything else to settling on the right woman.”

  “Stop it, Skye,” he warned, catching her hand and pressing his thumb into the palm. “God, I wish you weren’t going back tomorrow.”

  “I must.” Just his thumb working her palm, yet the movement radiated sexuality. Her entire body was aquiver. “There’s bound to be something pressing to claim me. By the way, you’d best tell me now. Has Rob given the family the tip-off about our unpremeditated kiss?”

  “To my knowledge Rob hasn’t said a word,” Keefe said. “And really, Skye-Eyes, that had to be one of the best kisses of all time.”

  “Agreed.” She couldn’t help but smile. “But you took a risk. The news has flown around. Dad spoke to me about it. I would say he’s concerned.”

  “About what, exactly?” Keefe asked coolly. “You’ve learned nothing from him about your mother?”

  “My mother was Dad’s mystery woman, Keefe.”

  “Was there nothing he asked her?”

  “Seems not.” She shrugged wryly. “Dad deemed it a miracle when my mother said she would marry him.”

  “Not much of a courtship,” he said bluntly.

  Skye came to a halt, her eyes a blue flame. “Dad’s love for my mother was real.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” Keefe spoke with a mixture of frustration and impatience. “I’ll pick my moment carefully to speak to Gran. I suppose an interrogation is what it amounts to. Even if we are related in some way—it seems we’re both enmeshed in that one—it can’t be all that close.”

  “Yet we’ve always had feelings for one another, haven’t we? Strong feelings. A strong bond.”

  His lean fingers tightened around her arm. “So what does that prove?” He offered it like a challe
nge.

  “It proves there’s a strong possibility cracks in our relationship might open up.”

  They were all assembled in the very English-looking drawing room, the huge area divided by a splendid triple arch and lit by two magnificent matching Waterford crystal chandeliers. Insolent Scott and a smiling Farleigh Templeton stood in front of the white marble fireplace, filled for most of the year with a variety of lush indoor plants and blossoming branches. Over the mantel hung an enormous rectangular, very important-looking Georgian mirror, reflecting the backs of the heads of the two tall men.

  There was no shortage of serious antiques in the Big House, Skye thought wryly. Yet they mingled happily with more exotic items from India and the Orient. Lady McGovern herself had until fairly recent times been a great collector of just about everything: paintings—one would have thought they had enough—porcelain; beautiful pieces of furniture; exquisite rugs. And books. Lady McGovern loved books. They were stacked on just about every table. Skye, a book lover herself, had absolutely no argument with that. She only wished she could grab a few. She spotted Margot Fonteyn’s biography side by side with Robert Helpmann’s on the library table in the entrance hall as they had come in.

  Rachelle had cornered Rob, who was looking more than a little rattled. A youthful-looking Meredith Templeton, far better endowed than her daughter in the looks department, was in the midst of an animated conversation with Lady McGovern, with Jemma looking quietly on. They all broke off to stare at Skye as she entered the room with the Master of Djinjara.