Set In Stone

by Ros Baxter

  The night was cool and the air silky on her face. She could no longer see the shadow, but her attention was taken by a foreign sound. At first she thought it was distant traffic, or faraway thunder, then she realised it was the rumbling distress of a large number of cattle on the move, lowing and tramping in a collective stampede towards the mountain.

  Shit. Somehow they were getting out.

  Lou stood frozen for a second, then she ran towards the homestead, yelling at the top of her lungs as she moved: ‘Gage! Gage!’

  Her mind was racing, trying to connect the things she had seen and heard with the implications. She knew properties existed pretty close to the bone in the wake of the drought, and that would be no different for Gage, despite his best efforts to diversify. She doubted he could afford to lose any cattle, let alone those penned close to the house – the most valuable. But how could they have escaped? She kept running, and screamed for Gage again, knowing every second would mean the difference between retrieving the animals and losing them. The mountain was a dangerous place for jittery beasts.

  As she screamed and ran, something hard connected with the side of her head, spearing hot blue pain into her skull and knocking her to the ground just as her body entered the orbit of the homestead’s sensor light. For a second, the bright yellow arc wrapped her up in its buttery gaze as everything went black.

  When she opened her eyes, Gage was kneeling beside her, his arms around her. She blinked at his shirtless chest, and even through the constellation of pain that haloed her head, her eyes still tracked down to register jeans that were half-buttoned and appeared to have been hastily thrown on. Of course he would sleep naked. Another teasing image was added to the messed-up back catalogue that already lived in her brain.

  Gage squeezed her hard as she opened her eyes. ‘Thank Christ! You’re alive. What happened?’ His face was crisscrossed with deep lines and his green eyes were hot and wild. He looked like he very much wanted to find and gut someone.

  ‘I dunno,’ Lou said, rubbing her head, warm stickiness meeting her fingers. ‘But it sure as shit hurt.’ She blinked up at him, thoroughly addled by the blow to the head, the sight of a semi-naked Gage and the proximity of him – the vanilla and cut-grass smell of him, those stupidly strong arms wrapped around her. ‘How long was I out?’

  Gage shook his head. ‘Only a few seconds.’ His lips drew back into a brittle line. ‘I heard you yell, then I saw you fall as I came out and the sensor light came on.’

  ‘Something hit me,’ Lou said, still trying to assemble the pieces.

  ‘Someone,’ Gage snapped. ‘I wanted to go after him, but I didn’t know if you were …’ His arms wrapped around her.

  Something snapped into place inside Lou. ‘Gage,’ she said, grabbing his arm hard, inappropriately thrilled at the hard bunch of his bicep as she did. For God’s sake girl, get a grip. Focus. ‘The cattle.’

  ‘I know,’ he snarled. ‘Piper and Bo are going.’

  As he spoke, the girl and her grandfather burst onto the veranda in jeans and boots, taking the stairs quickly. A dishevelled Skye in a hot pink negligee followed.

  Lou tugged at Gage again. ‘You have to go too,’ she insisted. ‘You have to get them back.’

  Gage bit his lip as Bo and Piper ran for the stables, calling out on their way to see if Lou was okay and to advise they’d called the ambulance.

  ‘Go, Gage,’ Lou insisted, pulling herself up to sitting and making to stand. ‘I can stay with Skye until the ambulance gets here.’ As she spoke, Skye arrived at her side.

  ‘You want to try to get up to the house, honey?’ Her mother’s face was pale in the yellow light, and she was patting Lou all over like she was checking for signs of further injury.

  Gage gently shoved Skye away. ‘I’ll get her into bed,’ he said, wrapping one arm around Lou’s waist and one under her thighs before picking her up so effortlessly she couldn’t help but be reminded of the dream of the burning classroom. ‘Then I’ll get the cattle.’

  Skye stepped back a little as Gage stalked up the house with Lou in his arms. His heart thumped against her chest, even through the barrier of pyjamas and dressing gown, and her face nestled against his shoulder as the pain bore down on the back of her skull. It hurt to be moved, but it was also exquisite, being so connected to the strength and chemistry of this man. As they reached the front door, Gage kicked it open and the old timber thing sighed in surrender, like it had never met that kind of man.

  Lou knew exactly how it felt.

  She closed her eyes as Gage strode through the house. She felt him shoulder open another door and before she knew what was happening, he was laying her on what could only be his bed. She knew this because it smelled exactly like him: wild and woody and like the stuff of sweet, dirty dreams. She opened her eyes. The bed was big and functional and made of honey-coloured timber. The sheets and blankets were mussed and he tried to straighten them around her.

  ‘I can fix that,’ Skye said.

  Gage held up a hand. ‘Skye,’ he said, his voice very deep and soft. ‘Give us a tick?’

  Skye nodded in an uncharacteristically cooperative way and sidled out the door.

  ‘Does it hurt?’ Gage smoothed back Lou’s hair and she wanted to say: Not while you’re doing that.

  But instead she plastered a smile on her face and said, ‘It’s not too bad.’ Then, with more urgency, ‘You should go.’

  He was kneeling beside the bed and for a brief, mad second she thought he was going to lean down and kiss her. His face came so close to hers she could smell his minty breath. ‘I’ll be back,’ he said, his gaze so intense she touched her face to check for burns.

  She nodded. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Lou.’ He stood and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Lou frowned at him. ‘What for?’

  ‘For getting you caught up in all this.’

  Before Lou could ask what he meant, he was walking away, every line of his body radiating fury and purpose, and her mother was sliding back in through the door. Lou closed her eyes and wondered if she could pretend to be asleep, like she had when she’d been thirteen and her mother wanted to talk, late at night. But Skye stepped forwards gingerly and perched on the edge of Gage’s bed. Lou opened her eyes. Her mother looked ragged and used up, her blonde hair hanging lank and spent at her jawline. Her blue eyes were still fiercely pretty, but right now they just looked sad.

  Skye ran long fingers through Lou’s hair and rubbed her temples softly like she had when Lou was five years old, waking up from a nightmare. ‘I’m so glad you’re okay,’ she whispered.

  Skye’s eyes were wide and red, and her nose was running. Lou’s breath caught at the raw pain on her mother’s face. She felt the world start to close in as old memories pressed against the careful barricades she had erected over the last twenty years. Panic, pure and prickly, surged through her veins, scraping against delicate skin and sinew and threatening to overtake her.

  Don’t say it, don’t say it.

  ‘I can’t lose you as well,’ her mother croaked.

  Lou slept heavily, and the dream was back – pulling her into the grave with its icy fingers.

  ‘Hey, it’s okay.’

  Gentle-rough hands shook her as her dirt-filled mouth fought for life. She grabbed the arms that held her and clung to them as she dragged in deep breaths of life-giving oxygen. The voice was familiar, low and maple-sweet, and as her eyes opened, that voice dragged her into the moment.

  Gage. His bed.

  Her head. Oh God, her head. Lou touched the spot where the blow had connected and winced. The sudden pain made all the pieces of herself resolve into the right order. She shook her head a little, regretting it immediately as a brutal scythe cut into her neck at the base of her skull. But she forced herself to speak as she looked up at a very tired Gage. ‘The cattle.’

  He smiled grimly. ‘We got most of them,’ he confirmed. ‘Lost a few to the Baker ravi
ne. A few strays left – we’ll hit the mountain later, once they’ve calmed down. They’re pretty spooked now.’

  She nodded. She knew this man so well. Every line of his body shrieked his fury. His shoulders were so erect they looked like they might crack under the weight of his neck. His hands were straining in square fists. ‘What made them run?’

  He shook his head, his mouth a bitter line. ‘Someone cut the fence,’ he said shortly. ‘And zapped a few of them to get the run on.’

  ‘So it was deliberate?’

  He nodded. ‘Looks like it.’ He touched her hair, very gently. ‘Probably why they bopped you,’ he said, stroking her hair. ‘You raised the alarm a little too early for their liking.’ He shrugged. ‘A few more minutes and we would have had a much worse time.’ He shook his head like he should stop talking. ‘More importantly, how are you? Skye says the paramedics sorted you out.’

  Lou nodded, suddenly exhausted again. She closed her eyes but the dream of the graveside was still lurking there, waiting to pounce, waiting to wrap its ugly tentacles around her and drag her back down, so she opened them again very quickly.

  ‘She says you were supposed to go to hospital.’ Gage looked like he had a whole lot more to say about that, his eyes narrow.

  That was never going to happen. If there was one place that was the epicentre of all she hated about this goddamn town, it was the goddamn hospital. She’d rather die a slow and bloody death here at Sunset Downs than spend one moment in that place of death and suffering. Skye hadn’t been happy, but at least she had understood. Even Lou, who had seen her mother’s performances for thirty-seven years, had been amazed by the Florence Nightingale Skye had managed to pull to convince the paramedics to let Lou stay at Sunset Downs rather than go to hospital. Those ambulance boys had left Sunset Downs feeling like Lou was being left in the care of a genuine saint. Fifty-eight years old and Skye could still charm the birds from the trees. It really was almost impressive.

  Lou realised she hadn’t answered his question. ‘They dressed it,’ she said shortly, indicating the enormous bandage on her head. ‘And hospital would just be to check for concussion, but the paramedics didn’t think it was likely. Skye said she’ll keep an eye on me here. And we can get the doctor out to check me again later today.’

  Gage opened his mouth, but Lou spoke over him, done with the hospital discussion, since even the thought of it made a vague nausea rise in her belly. ‘Who did it?’

  He ran his hands through his hair, then leaned down and started tugging his boots off, throwing them across the room. For the first time, Lou realised the sun was well up and that Gage must have been riding half the night. ‘Do you mind?’ he asked, pulling his legs onto the bed and lying back against some pillows.

  ‘No,’ she said, wriggling over a little.

  He exhaled deeply and Lou took the opportunity to breathe in the mountain on him. How the hell was it possible for a person to smell like a place? As long as she had known Gage Westin, he had always smelled like this: a mixture of his very own skin and hair and particular brand of maleness, along with a condensed odour of the outdoors, of this place that he was born in and belonged to, more than he would ever belong to any woman. And right now, after being in the saddle all night, it was like Eau de Gage to the power of a thousand. Lou swooned at the proximity of him, and the urge to reach out and take his hand, lying so close to her against one snowy white sheet, was so strong that she clenched her fists into balls and tucked them under her body.

  Finally, he broke the spell by answering, ‘I dunno who it was.’ He linked his hands behind his head where it rested against the timber bedhead. ‘But when I do, I’ll kill him.’

  Lou wanted to think it was just a figure of speech but then she remembered Gage’s face as he had wielded the big black gun in the stables when he’d discovered Piper and that newcomer. If Piper was his daughter, then Sunset Downs and all on it were – what? His mother? Perhaps something like that.

  ‘It’s a hard life out here,’ she said, feeling like the poster girl for stupid truisms.

  He cocked an eyebrow. ‘The land?’

  She nodded.

  He laughed a little and the sound was so sweet Lou’s whole body glowed with warmth.

  ‘Not really,’ he said, meeting and holding her eyes. ‘I’ve seen a bit, last twenty years. Hard life looks different to different folks, I guess.’

  She nodded again, enjoying hearing him talk.

  He frowned. ‘Idea of being in some office, in some city, stuck inside all day, talking to a computer, that seems pretty hard to me.’

  Lou thought about it; how much she loved that office, that city and that computer; how safe and clean they were, how orderly and predictable. Maybe she didn’t love them the way she had once loved this town, and that damn mountain. But there were different ways to love, she knew that now. Take Skye. She loved with her whole soul, boots and all. And then, like as not, a few days, weeks, or, at a stretch, months later, she loved just as hard in another direction. Passion wasn’t always what it was cracked up to be.

  But Lou just shrugged. ‘You might be right. I guess I meant the land’s a bit more fickle.’

  He nodded and smiled, and a look crossed his face that took her breath away; like he was thinking about a lover. ‘Yep,’ he agreed. ‘Like a woman. Lovin’ you so well one minute and running a thousand miles in the other direction the next.’

  Okay, she deserved that.

  But he had more to say. His face softened, and he reached out to touch her hair. ‘But I do know what you mean, Louise Samuels,’ he said, rubbing the piece of hair between his fingers. ‘About this life. Like this damn drought. If it rains, I’m gonna be rich. If it doesn’t, I’m gonna have to start shooting cattle. Or worse.’

  Lou held her breath. She hadn’t realised it was that serious. She tried to imagine what was worse, as something angry and secretive skittered across his face. She remembered Gage saying sorry to her the night before, for getting her involved. She remembered the feeling she’d had that there was something going on. Then she thought about his face when he had said he was going to kill someone.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Gage shook his head quickly, as though to clear it. ‘Nothing really,’ he said, working hard on a careless smile. ‘I just might have to consider my options.’

  Lou gaped at him, trying to decide if he might really mean selling out. She thought about Piper, and Bo, and all she knew about how hard Gage had worked to keep the place. ‘Oh Gage,’ she said.

  She knew better than anyone that places, and the experiences you have there, define you. You can no more separate yourself from them voluntarily than you can cut your own arm off. She knew, as everyone did, that some farmers hadn’t made it through this drought. And that for some of them, the prospect of being separated from the place that was in their cells was too horrible to bear. For some, there was only one option once they lost their land.

  Gage was Sunset Downs. And he had worked so hard for it.

  Lou decided, as she watched him waging some internal war, that she would do whatever she could to help him while she was here. She thought about the work she was doing with her father, and about the gas company. She remembered Piper saying Clean Gas was sniffing for a deal. Lou might be able to help Gage. She was good at deals. She might be able to negotiate something for him that would help him set himself up in such a way he wouldn’t be subject to the whims of his beloved home.

  But as she lay there, trying to nut it out through a hazy fog of pain and lust, Gage seemed to switch gear. It was as though a wall of exhaustion suddenly hit him and the fight drained from his body. She watched him, eyes closed, as he leaned against the bedhead and spoke slowly.

  ‘I was trying to give you space, Lou,’ he began, almost like he was talking to himself. ‘After the other day, on the mountain. I didn’t want to spook you.’ She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he spoke. ‘I didn’t want you to run again. I wanted you to see that
there was nothing scary about us.’ He kept talking in that same musing way, his eyes closed. ‘But when I saw you there, in front of the house, I thought you were dead.’

  He rolled a little to the side and opened his eyes. They were so dark it was almost impossible to tell they were green, and they were fixed on her face.

  She tried hard to smile. ‘I’m fine.’

  He reached out and traced her cheek, her chin, the line of her neck. ‘I will find out who did this, Louise Samuels,’ he said, his voice a soft, silky promise. ‘To me, and to you. And when I do –’

  Lou put a finger up to his lips. Gage looked so tired, she could hardly bear it. He didn’t need to make promises to her. She didn’t expect him to go out and avenge her, and she wished he wouldn’t. Clearly, whoever had done this was very dangerous.

  She pulled herself up with some effort and reached over to open the blinds on the big window near his bed. The early morning sun filtered in, bathing the room in an almost magical light. It seemed to frame the moment building between them, and Lou decided in that instant that this was how she would remember him when she left Stone Mountain and closed this chapter of her life once and for all.

  This moment, and this beautiful man.

  He was stretched out, dangerously sexy, on the bed. His eyes were half closed, his long dark hair grazing the grubby white T-shirt he had been riding in. Faded blue jeans clung to his legs so eagerly Lou felt like giving them a lecture about acting too keen. Long, tanned feet that underlined the capable beauty of the man completed the picture. She wished she could photograph him like this.

  ‘Someone wants to mess with you,’ she said finally, trying to keep the conversation to topics far removed from the madly sweet thing that always filled all the space between them if they were too close, too alone.

  But Gage smiled at her wryly. ‘You mean, someone other than you?’ His voice was full of meaning, and warning. It stroked her skin like those talented fingers of his, and played havoc with parts of her that remembered his effect, Pavlov’sdog style. He was giving her fair notice: I’m coming for you. Those Mountain-green eyes held hers while she held her breath. She worked hard to force her brain to do the clever work it was so good at, but it was impossible as time slowed to a sultry crawl. She felt like they were attached to powerful magnets with their own agenda. He was so close his breath feathered her face and she could feel the heat radiating from his skin.