Walking the Line

by Mandy Magro

  Walking the Line

  MANDY MAGRO

  www.harlequinbooks.com.au

  Mandy Magro lives on the New South Wales northern coast with her daughter, Chloe Rose. With pristine aqua-blue coastline in one direction and sweeping rural landscapes in the other, she describes her home as heaven on earth. Her own adventures on the land have made her the passionate country woman she is today, and she loves writing about soul-deep love as well as the Australian rural way of life and all the wonderful characters who live there.

  www.facebook.com/mandymagroauthor

  www.mandymagro.com

  For my darling daughter, and best friend, Chloe Rose

  A BULL RIDER’S PRAYER

  As I live the cowboy way,

  Protection is what I pray.

  I don’t know my fate

  Outside of the gate.

  If my ride sees trouble,

  Send angels on the double.

  For in you, Lord, I rest.

  Let my life pass your test.

  By pure grace I’m saved.

  Lord, ride with me, for your way is paved.

  That’s the cowboy way

  And what bull riders pray!

  Kip Sawdy

  CONTENTS

  A Bull Rider’s Prayer

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  PROLOGUE

  Grenfell, New South Wales

  It had all happened so damn fast.

  Vivien Hiller stormed off. Then Dallas and his father argued. Ten minutes later, unable to handle the questions, his dad fled the stables. The bonnet of the Commodore slammed shut. The driver’s door closed. And then the engine revved to life and Mick Armstrong stomped on the gas in an almighty fit of rage.

  As he recalled the car fishtailing down the driveway, Dallas Armstrong’s heavy heart sank into his well-worn boots. He hung his head in his hands. He’d never seen his father like that before—Mick was usually so calm and collected. But nothing about the last twelve hours made sense. It all just felt like a bad dream—if only it was one he could wake up from.

  He tried to swallow down the emotion as he gazed towards his mother, who sat in a traumatised heap on a shabby-looking couch, the pain in her desolate blue eyes tearing at his heart and soul. His aunt Kelly’s arms were wrapped around her trembling shoulders as she sobbed into her ball of tissues. He was grateful for his aunt’s presence—she was always there for them, through the good and the bad, even though her home was a two-hour drive away.

  Slumping in his chair, Dallas clasped and unclasped his hands as images of what he’d witnessed flashed through his mind. For all these years, his father had been hiding a shocking secret. Never would he have believed such a thing if he hadn’t heard it with his own ears. Damn Vivien Hiller. He felt completely betrayed. And it made him wonder if he’d ever really known his father at all.

  His beautiful mum deserved better. How would he ever find the heart to tell her what he’d overheard at the stables? He could only begin to imagine the pain it would cause her to know the truth. The magnitude of it all sent adrenaline coursing through him but he drew in a deep breath and reminded himself for the hundredth time to keep it together. Still, anger bubbled inside him, mixed with fear, disappointment, anxiousness and despair—so many unwanted emotions.

  Meeting his eyes, Aunt Kelly gave him a woeful smile and he silently returned it as he stood, blinking back tears. He needed to walk, to move, to stop thinking. He couldn’t crumble right now. He had to remain strong for his mum. Even with everything they’d been through—the loss of his beautiful gran last year to cancer, the drought, the endless money worries—he’d never seen her so distressed.

  Katherine Armstrong had always been a true-to-the-word countrywoman full of grit and determination, and yet generous with her smiles and hugs. She’d taught him that nothing was ever out of your reach if you believed in it enough, and he owed his will to succeed in whatever he put his mind to all to her. Interstate truck driving had stolen her husband away from the family cattle property, Rollingstone Ridge, for much of Dallas’s youth. As unfair as that was, it was just something that had to be done to make ends meet, cattle prices not what they used to be. Nevertheless, she had raised him the best she could, and now he wished there was some way to take her pain away. But there wasn’t. All Dallas could do right now was try to protect her, and protect her with his life he would.

  He’d dried her tears, held her tight and told her over and over that it was all going to be okay—even though he was having trouble believing that himself. Now there was nothing left but to pace the hospital’s unnervingly silent hallway while they waited for the news that might shatter their world.

  He wanted to yell, punch something, jump on his Triumph Thunderbird motorbike and ride like there was no tomorrow, but instead he made sure he was out of his mum and aunt’s eyesight before he sunk his boot into the wall, fighting back sobs. He felt so frustrated and helpless—a huge part of his life had been one massive lie.

  Heaving a sigh, he rubbed his weary eyes as he tried to pull himself together. Time felt as though it was dissolving into itself. It was only twelve hours since his world had been turned upside down yet so much had happened that it felt like days ago. Vivien turning up on the doorstep looking for his father was just the beginning, then their hushed yet heated voices as they’d hid in the stables, her threats to reveal the truth if his father didn’t stop what he was doing, her fury when Mick blatantly refused, and the mind-blowing revelation of a side to his dad he never knew existed. Vivien not usually being one to step foot at Rollingstone Ridge, Dallas had secretly followed her down to the stables, and after overhearing the argument had waited in the shadows until the woman had left.

  Then he’d approached his father, demanding answers Mick Armstrong refused to give. In hindsight Dallas knew he shouldn’t have exploded the way he did—but how was he meant to react? If only he could turn back time, he might have approached the situation differently and then his father wouldn’t have driven off in such a rage.

  Maybe then the accident wouldn’t have happened. Dallas sighed weightily as he blinked back fresh tears and shoved his hands in his pockets. Closing his eyes, he rested against the wall. If Mick died, he’d never be able to forgive himself.

  Hearing footsteps approaching, Dallas snapped back to attention, his breath held as he prayed for good news. His mother and aunt appeared out of the waiting room and came to stand alongside him. Katherine’s pleading eyes were red and swollen from crying. She grabbed Dallas’s hand and held onto him for dear life and Dallas gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. In seconds the doctor was right beside them, his scrubs splattered with blood and his shoulders slumped. Dallas took one look at his solemn face, and it spoke volumes. Then with a soft voice the surgeon uttered the words n
one of them wanted to hear.

  ‘I’m so sorry, he didn’t make it.’

  His mother screamed the most heart-wrenching cry and his aunt wrapped her arms around her as both women crumbled, their wails echoing around them. Dallas shook his head. He heard footfalls running towards them, and vaguely made out the familiar sound of Gramps calling his name. Then everything seemed to blur as the world spun beneath him.

  Feeling as though his last breath had been pulled from his lungs, he finally lost all control of his emotions and dropped to his knees as soul-deep sobs escaped him. A hand came down upon his shoulder. He looked up to see Gramps’ pained expression before he too knelt down and took him into his arms. This couldn’t be happening. He didn’t want to believe it was real. No matter what his father had done, he still loved him deeply. And now he was never going to hear his voice again, or see him smile, or look forward to the moment he pulled up in his truck after weeks away.

  Mick Armstrong was gone, and this time he was never coming home.

  CHAPTER

  1

  ‘Hey, Charz … are you awake, hon?’

  Jane stuck her head through the half open door and flicked the bedroom light on as what appeared to be a low flying missile darted passed her and propelled itself onto the bed, his corkscrew tail wagging.

  ‘I took Bruce out for his morning walk and toilet duties to let you have a little bit of a sleep in,’ she continued, ‘but it’s almost eight o’clock, so wakey-wakey sleeping beauty.’

  Her voice reached into Charlize Dawson’s bizarre dream and hauled her out of it. ‘Thanks, Janey. You’re the bomb,’ she mumbled as Bruce’s wet sandpaper-feeling tongue licked her cheek. She half groaned, half yawned while rolling onto her side to avoid the slobber fest. ‘I was just dreaming that Kermit the frog was chasing me with a knife, but then Sylvester Stallone and Arnold Schwarzenegger jumped out of nowhere and blew him to smithereens with machine guns. There was green sludge everywhere, and I’m telling you, it wasn’t pretty.’

  Jane giggled. ‘My god, what drugs did you take before you went to sleep? You sound awful. All gravelly.’

  ‘Obviously not the right kind,’ Charlize replied as she hugged her overexcited miniature pug. She removed the lavender-scented eye mask Jane had gifted her last week and blinked frantically, the light feeling as though it was searing her eyeballs.

  She gave Bruce a peck on the top of his head and the pug responded by leaping out of her arms and racing around the bed before launching himself on top of her once again.

  ‘God, mate, where do you get your energy from?’ She gently ruffled his head, the pooch finally calming beneath her touch, curling up on her chest and closing his eyes.

  ‘So how are you feeling on this fine Friday morning?’ Jane asked as one eyebrow rose.

  ‘Like absolute crap.’

  Jane smiled. ‘In true Charlize style, blunt and to the point.’

  Charlize tried to laugh and then groaned. She felt like death warmed up—and at least ten years older than her twenty-five years. Her throat resembled sandpaper, her mouth felt as though it was filled with sawdust and her head throbbed like buggery. And it was all self-inflicted so no sympathy was due. She instinctively rubbed her temples, regretting the champagne she’d gulped over her table-for-one dinner last night. She’d been hoping the answer to her problems would be at the bottom of the glass, and then the bottom of the bottle, and then the next bottle.

  Jane had come to her rescue just before midnight. She doubted she would’ve been able to put one foot in front of the other without her arm wrapped tightly around her waist. A faint memory of her best friend holding her hair back as she threw up in a garbage can made her grimace.

  ‘So are you going to bless the world with your awesome presence today, or are you still waiting for Prince Charming to come galloping in on his white horse and rouse you with a passionate kiss?’

  ‘Oh ha ha.’ Charlize groaned as she gazed towards where Jane leant against the doorway of her spare bedroom, her best friend looking, as always, immaculately dressed and ready for her day’s work as a lawyer.

  Jane Galanos rarely ever had a hair out of place and she achieved it so effortlessly—natural flawless Mediterranean beauty on her side—unlike Charlize who had more of a curvy vivacious kind of charm that she felt needed a little extra vavavoom to enhance. She moaned inwardly with how shocking she must look. After basically face-planting her bed at one this morning, her thick curly blonde hair would be in complete and utter disarray and her make-up would most certainly be smeared all over her face.

  ‘My Prince Charming is too busy kissing Miss Bee-Sting-Lips to worry about me,’ she mumbled as she tried to rub her tired eyes to life, the scent of coffee from the apartment’s kitchen luring her upright. ‘I swear to God if that woman gets anymore Botox in her lips they’re going to explode … and so are her double D sized boobs if someone bumps into her too hard. I have a very good mind to do that—with my car for that matter—and then reverse over her for good measure.’ She frowned. ‘Just kidding, of course.’

  ‘Oh, Charz, I’m so sorry, sweetness. Talk about foot in mouth.’ Jane slapped her forehead. ‘I didn’t mean to remind you about Mister Idiot-Features and Samantha.’

  Charlize gave her friend a small smile as she blinked back tears. ‘Don’t apologise. I can sort of see the funny side of it.’

  She peered down at the princess-cut diamond wedding ring still foolishly on her finger. She just couldn’t seem take the damn thing off—and not because it was worth more than her trusty Holden Barina, but because it would cement the fact her five-year relationship with one of Sydney’s most highly sought-after plastic surgeons, Alistair Dawson, was ultimately over. She wasn’t ready for that kind of finality, especially not when they’d only tied the knot seven months ago.

  ‘I know it’s been almost two weeks but I still can’t get my head around the fact he tried to tell me it wasn’t what it looked like. I mean, for Christ’s sake, how can finding your husband in bed with his secretary be anything but what it looks like?’

  Jane frowned and shook her head, her long black ponytail swishing around her shoulders. ‘All I have to say to that is Alistair Dawson is a self-centred prick. Always was and always will be. Just because he’s six years older than you doesn’t make him any wiser. In fact, you’re much smarter than him in many many ways.’

  Charlize screwed her face up. ‘You’ve never really taken a shining to him, have you, Janey?’

  Jane grimaced. ‘Not really.’ She smiled sadly. ‘I know he can be charming and I can see why you fell so hard for him. I mean, out of all the women falling at his feet the night of the gala he sought you out and wooed you for months until you agreed to date him, but once the thrill of the chase wore off his true colours started to show through. Then after you were married and he thought he had you hook, line and sinker, he really started being a downright arsehole. You told him from the get-go you had no interest in ever having plastic surgery, and he just kept on pointing out everything he felt you needed doing.’ She held her arms wide. ‘And I have no idea why because you’re perfect just the way you are.’

  ‘But he can be so nice, especially when we’re all on our own.’ Charlize’s voice was shaking.

  ‘Oh sweetie.’ Jane strode into the room, her high heels clip-clopping on the tiled floor, and sat down on the edge of the bed. Crossing her long stockinged legs, she removed her glasses and placed them in her lap. ‘Honey, I know he’s apologised over and over, and he swears he’ll never do it again, but I hope you’re going to stick to your guns and not go back to him.’ She reached out and grabbed Charlize’s hand and gave it a loving squeeze, her brown eyes filled with concern. ‘I know you’ve always daydreamed about being married and having a family of your own, but I just don’t think Alistair is the man to give it to you. I tried to let you know how I felt, very gently of course, before you married him, but you were too wrapped up in the notion of walking down the aisle to take any notice. A
nd I wasn’t going to shove my feelings down your throat when you seemed so happy. I mean, who was I to know how things would work out?’

  ‘Oh Janey, I never thought I was going to be a divorcee, especially so soon after getting married.’ She hung her head. ‘I’m going to end up a lonely old woman with only cats and dogs for company, I can see it now.’ Her heart began to feel heavier than it already was.

  ‘Oh hon, there’s plenty more fish in the sea, and you’re a bloody stunner if I do say so myself, so I have every faith you’ll find love again. There’s plenty of time for you to live your dream life with a man that actually deserves you.’

  ‘Stuff that, I don’t want any other fish from the stupid man ocean … because from my experience they’re all bloody sharks,’ Charlize said grumpily. She tried to run her hands through her matted locks and then grimaced. ‘And I’m a stunner? Really? Have you taken a good look at me this morning? I’m guessing I look like the wild woman from Borneo.’

  ‘Yeah, you kinda do.’ Janey returned the grimace, and then grinned. ‘But you have a good excuse to look a little worse for wear this morning. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so drunk.’

  ‘I was pretty bad, huh?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Cheers for coming to my rescue.’ Charlize gave her best friend a thankful smile before looking down at Bruce curled up in her lap. ‘I know what you’re saying makes perfect sense, but I just want a little more time to think about everything before I go asking for a divorce.’

  ‘Whatever you need to do, Charz, you do it.’ Jane reached out and grabbed Charlize’s shoulders as she smiled empathically. ‘I have your back, no matter what. Just remember that, won’t you.’

  Charlize sniffled as heavy tears began to fill her eyes and roll down her cheeks. She’d had her life all mapped out. Get married to Alistair, have two kids—one boy, one girl—work from home, maybe find a mate for Bruce, and then live happily ever. ‘Thanks, Janey, it’s just, I’m so confused at the moment and I don’t want to go making any rash decisions because my heart’s telling me one thing and my head’s telling me another.’