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When Danger Follows
by Maggi Andersen
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Romance
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New Concepts Publishing
www.newconceptspublishing.com
Copyright ©2008 by Maggi Andersen
NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
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When Danger Follows
By
Maggi Andersen
© copyright by Maggi Andersen, December 2008
Cover art by Alex DeShanks, December 2008
ISBN 978-1-60394-250-8
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
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Chapter One
The driver pulled Caitlin’s suitcase from the Greyhound tourist coach that had brought her up from Broome. He jumped back behind the wheel and drove off in a swirl of dust.
She looked around. She might well be the last person on the earth. The oppressive heat was far worse than anything she had imagined. Moving to a straggly gum tree nearby, she sat on her suitcase in the tiny circle of shade.
The mid-day sun bleached the sky to a silver haze, which shimmered, distorting everything in the distance. Pulling her hair free of its band, it settled like a damp towel on her neck. She put on her inadequate cotton sunhat, and began spreading sunscreen cream on any exposed bits of skin. She was sweating in her jeans—she’d have to change as soon as she arrived at the house.
Had she done the right thing coming here? She wanted so much to build a new life for herself, somewhere where she felt safe.
Down the road, another trail of dust rose. She gasped with relief the sight of another human being. The truck rattled as it drove around her in a tight arc, pulling up with a spray of pebbles and dirt.
The door flung open and a big man leapt out, grinning. “You’ve got to be Caitlin Fitzgerald.” He grabbed her case and threw it in the back beside a panting kelpie dog.
She climbed into the cab. It smelt of cow dung and smoke.
He nodded at her. “Harry’s the name. Harry Phillips. Gee, you’re going to have to be careful with that skin of yours. English, are you?” He set the truck in motion with a noisy grinding of the gears.
“Pleased to meet you, Harry.” Caitlin was conscious that her face was probably flushed and sweaty. “Irish, from Dublin actually.”
Harry might have been close to her age, but his skin was deeply tanned and laughter lines radiated from the corners of his hazel eyes. He wore khaki shorts and a sleeveless shirt that had seen better days, but his boots were polished until they gleamed like mirrors. He pushed his Akubra hat back off his face with a callused finger, and turned to look at her more than once as they sped along.
“That’s a great head of red hair you have, Caitlin. Do you have the temper to go with it?”
“I’ve been accused of being fiery on occasion,” she replied, anxious that he should watch the road.
“I’ll have to stay on the right side of you then,” he laughed, turning again to peer out through the dusty windscreen at the unchanging landscape. “What made you decide to come to the end of the earth to live?”
She paused. “Curiosity—I’ve read a lot about the Australian Outback and wanted to see it. How far to Tall Trees?”
“We’re already on it.”
“Did it start at that last gate?”
Harry gave a hearty guffaw. “Look to the horizon, east, west, north and south—all you can see is Tall Trees, and then some.”
She peered through the window, struggling to grasp the sheer size of the landscape. She’d always felt at home in a crowd. Here, there was nothing but earth and sky for miles and it made her feel a bit odd.
Not afraid exactly, that’s an emotion she was familiar with.
“Tall Trees seems an incongruous name to me,” she said.
“Do you mean it doesn’t fit?”
“Not many trees around here, tall or otherwise.”
“Wait till we get there. Can you see that hill in the distance?”
She leaned forward, rubbing ineffectually at the windscreen. “That’s where we’re heading?”
“Yep.”
Her mouth felt horribly dry. She’d had nothing to drink since the bottle of water bought at the last whistle-stop. “Does it ever rain here?”
“In the rainy season. When it does, look out.”
“It floods?” she said, with a strong note of disbelief in her voice.
Harry laughed. “If the river breaks its banks. You wait.”
Caitlin wasn’t at all sure she wanted to.
Harry noted her expression. “The house is okay, it’s on top of a hill,” he said taking pity on her. “But they do get cut off sometimes. So, you’re here to look after Jake Monterey’s kids?”
“That’s right.”
“Best of Irish luck to you.”
Her heart sank. “They’re difficult?”
“More willful than bad. Monterey’s let ‘em run wild since his wife died.”
“How long is it since she passed away?”
“Over two years now. He goes off a lot these days-flies to Darwin on business. He has a lady-friend there.”
She held her breath as Harry took his hands off the wheel and, steering with his knees, lit a cigarette. “Away now actually,” he went on. “Maybe he plans to marry her and bring her back here. That would be a real good idea. The kids need it.”
“Wouldn’t he tell you of his plans?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Nope, Jake’s a bit of a closed shop.”
“What is it that you do, Harry?”
Harry pushed back his hat and scratched his head. “I help muster the cattle. We send ‘em off to one of the bigger stations, for shipping to Asia and the Middle East. We also breed quarter horses. They’re my main interest, but I’m a mechanic by trade. I maintain the machinery—keep it all in good working order. Jack-of-all-trades, master-of-none,” he said cheerfully.
“That’s quite an impressive list of accomplishments,” she said. “You must be very busy.”
“Oh, I get time off,” he said, glancing at her. “Saturday nights are always free.”
She smiled and turned to gaze out of the window. “Just how big is Tall Trees?”
“Tall Trees employs about thirty people and a fair few itinerant workers come and go. We all manage to work as a team under Jake. He’s the station manager as well as owner.”
They arrived at the base of the cliff, glowing brilliant orange in the sun, and
began to climb. Caitlin was amazed as the rocks and shrubs gave way to forest. “What sort of trees are these?”
“Bloodwood, ghost gums, turpentine.”
She thought it seemed a little cooler here, but that might be wishful thinking. It wasn’t long before they were traveling through dense bush land and she heard her first kookaburra laugh. A small, furry grey animal bounced across the track and the truck swerved.
“Effin wallabies,” Harry cursed.
“Where’s the nearest town?” she asked, when he’d straightened up again. She was beginning to relax. He appeared to handle the difficult conditions with practiced ease.
“Burrawong—not far, twenty kilometers or so down the other side of the hill.”
She wouldn’t be walking into town then. The revelation brought a wave of inexplicable claustrophobia washing over her.
“Do you ride?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“No. I’m a bit scared of horses.”
“You’ll have to learn,” he said. “Can’t survive here, out of the saddle. Tell you what,” he turned to her again, carelessly disregarding the slippery bush track the truck was negotiating. “I’ll teach you.”
“Thanks.” She tensely watched the track, wishing he’d do the same.
A mile or so on, they emerged from the bush and approached another gate. Harry jumped out to open it with the truck still edging forward.
“You’ll be doing this in future,” he said, back behind the wheel, grinding the gears as the truck leapt forward. “We’ll let you off today.” Then he was gone again to close it.
Caitlin looked ahead at an amazing green oasis—Tall Trees, her new home. An avenue of shady trees with broad flat leaves she couldn’t identify, led up to the house. In the island formed by the circular sweep of gravel driveway, a sprinkler pumped out a wide arc of spray over lush green lawns and a rose garden.
She felt the wrench of homesickness, surprised to find roses thriving here. She needed to be somewhere that had no resemblance at all to Ireland. “Where does the water come from?”
“Bore water. They’re lucky at Tall Trees. There’s a good underground supply.”
The house was older and certainly bigger than she had imagined. Built of sandstone blocks, it had four stately chimneys rising from its iron roof. A graceful curve of iron sheltered the wide verandah. She walked up to the front door. It had a light-well above it with Tall Trees etched into the glass.
“The jackeroo compound is down the bottom of the hill,” Harry said, pointing away to the right of the house. He carried her suitcase as if it was packed with feathers. “You want some riding lessons, come find me.”
“Thanks, Harry.”
“Angela’s a real character,” he said. “Wait till you hear her yodel, she’s a champ—won the pub talent contest four times running. The chooks love it.” He took off his boots on the verandah, placing them together by the door. Caitlin stood, wondering if she should do the same, was it a custom here, like in Japan? He opened the screen door and called into the gloom of the central hallway, “Angela?”
“Come in and have a cuppa.” Angela appeared from the end of the hall. She brought with her the aroma of something fresh-baked and delicious. Caitlin saw with relief that she was wearing shoes.
“You’ve taken off those beloved boots of yours, Harry, I’m pleased to see.” She turned to Caitlin and in the same breath said, “You must be the new girl. Caitlin isn’t it?”
Caitlin moved forward to shake the woman’s hand. She was small and thin, her hair streaked with grey, but her grip was like iron.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Angela,” Caitlin said to her back as she hurried off down the hall.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Angela said over her shoulder. “I have my work to be getting on with. The children are out in the kitchen, having their tea. Come through.”
Caitlin and Harry followed her down the deep blue-and-gold hall carpet, laid over timber floors. Lights like upturned crystal bowls hung from the high ceiling. Oil paintings dressed the walls. The kitchen was an airy room at the back of the house with both a wood stove and a more modern one. Windows looked out over a kitchen garden and open paddocks to the fringe of thick bush land. At a well-scrubbed, wooden table sat two children, gazing at Caitlin from over the top of their mugs.
“This is Elizabeth, the eldest, she’s eight.” Angela put her hand on the sandy curls of the girl. “And this is William.”
“I’m six,” William said, wiping his milk moustache. He was a beautiful little boy with dark hair, smooth olive skin and startling blue eyes.
“Hello, Elizabeth. Hello, William. I’m very glad to be finally meeting you both,” Caitlin said, smiling. “I’ve bought you both a present all the way from Ireland. When I’ve unpacked my case I’ll give them to you.” She’d brought them some books and two, woolly black-faced sheep, different from the Australian ones.
Elizabeth was a pale, slightly built child. She had a high-strung look about her, her skin stretched tight over the delicate bones of her face. She screwed up her freckled nose. “Your hair is the color of beetroots,” she said dispassionately.
William giggled and twisted up his napkin, tossing it onto the floor. “Red as a beetroot,” he parroted. “I hate beetroot!”
“Now you two,” warned Angela. “That’s no way to behave. Apologize to Caitlin.”
Elizabeth looked mutinous.
“No, don’t worry about that now, Angela,” Caitlin said, hastily. “I’d love that cup of tea. I declare, I’m as dry as a pharaoh’s tomb.”
“What’s a faro’s toom?” asked William.
“Have you heard of the pyramids in Egypt?” she asked him, gratefully accepting the cup of tea Angela placed before her.
“Tell me.”
“Pharaoh’s were kings a long, long time ago. When they died, their people buried them in tombs beneath the pyramids. Pyramids are shaped like this.” She drew an outline on the tablecloth with a fork. “They’re strange and mysterious. I’ll show you a picture of them, perhaps tomorrow, okay?”
“Our mother died,” said Elizabeth, in a conversational tone.
“Oh, yes, I know. I’m so sorry.” Caitlin silently cursed her clumsiness.
“I can’t remember her very well, but Daddy says she was pretty. She didn’t have freckles.” Elizabeth left her seat and came close to Caitlin, peering into her face. “You’ve got freckles too. Like me.” Her sweet child’s breath touched Caitlin’s cheek.
“I like my freckles,” Caitlin said, resisting the urge to hug her. “I’ll have to wear a big hat and keep out of the sun because I burn easily.”
“Daddy doesn’t like freckles.” Elizabeth looked as if she might cry.
“Oh, I’m sure he likes yours.”
“No. He gets cross when I get burned, but I forget.”
“Perhaps we can help each other remember.”
Angela winked at her. “Now if you’ve finished your tea, Caitlin, I’ll show you your room.”
The bedroom opened onto the verandah.
“You’ll have that door open most nights.” Angela pointed up to the high ceiling where a fan slowly rotated. “It’s hard to get a breeze out of that this time of year.”
Someone had taken great care with the room. The walls were papered in yellow wallpaper with a frieze of violets round the top. The bed had a white, wrought-iron bed head and a dainty, patchwork bedspread like one Caitlin’s mother once had. A mosquito net hung above the bed by a hook. Freshly picked, white roses spilled out from a vase on the old cedar dresser, dropping petals. A hook rug in cool greens that might have been homemade covered the bare boards. In front of the fireplace was a wooden rocker with a yellow cushion.
“This is lovely,” Caitlin said, surprised. “Thank you for the roses.”
“Not my doing,” Angela replied. “Bathroom’s down the hall. I’ll leave you to get settled.”
Left alone, Caitlin sat down and rocked for a few minutes. Apart
from a few birdcalls outside and the muffled sounds of the children from the kitchen, it was very quiet. She took a deep breath. She’d been so afraid this mad escape to the other side of the world would be a failure. She let her breath out slowly, and felt her tense muscles begin to unwind.
* * * *
The next morning at breakfast there was still no sign of Jake Monterey. Caitlin and the children ate their bacon, eggs and sausage. She’d asked for cereal, but Angela insisted that everyone should eat a good solid breakfast to set them up for the day. Caitlin decided to deal with that later and told the children what their daily routine would be.
Elizabeth’s bottom lip stuck out. “We ride our ponies every day, for hours.”
“And I’m allowed to jump my pony. Daddy set up a jump out in the paddock,” William said.
Caitlin poured milk into her tea. “You are both so clever to be able to ride. I wish I could.”
“Can’t you ride at all?” Elizabeth’s eyes were scornful.
“Now, Missy, don’t you be so rude. Eat your breakfast.” Angela muttered, “She doesn’t eat enough to keep a bird alive.”
Elizabeth pushed her plate away, barely touched.
Caitlin rose to take her plate to the sink. “I’m planning to learn to ride and then I might ride with you.”
“I could teach you how to jump,” William said, jumping up and down on his chair.
“How nice of you to offer,” Caitlin said. “Of course you can ride, every day after afternoon lessons. But you shall not jump your pony, William, until your father returns and gives his permission.”
Both children looked at her as they took this in, and the moment passed without argument.
She felt it went well until she saw the expression on Elizabeth’s face. One you’d find on an ailing eighty-year-old. It sent a cold shaft of unease straight to Caitlin’s heart.
[Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Two
Five days passed and still no a sign of the children’s father. Caitlin introduced her routine: breakfast, lessons, lunch, and lessons again until afternoon tea, then fresh air and exercise, which meant a walk for her while the children gamboled about on their ponies, dinner, listening to the radio or reading for an hour, bath, supper, followed by prayers, then bed. There was television that a satellite disk on the roof supplied, but she thought she’d wait for their father before she allowed it. For the first few days, the children grumbled at spending so much time indoors at lessons, but they didn’t rebel, although Elizabeth remained uncommunicative and suspicious of her. Only once when Caitlin asked her to write a sentence on the blackboard, did she show any real emotion. “You’re not the boss of me,” she said, her lip trembling. “You’re not my mother.”
When Danger Follows Page 1
