Whispers At Wongan Creek

by Juanita Kees

  Pulling open the door of his ute, he tossed his hat onto the seat and looked around. Temporary buildings and bulldozed red dust roads stretched around the landscape for miles. A boom gate separated the main road from the mine access road.

  Beyond that, the skeletal structure of a conveyor loomed against the distant skyline. Below it, big arse yellow dump trucks and diggers would be working their way up and down the winding platforms of the open pit mine.

  If he was in the mood, Travis would take the time to admire the skill and engineering of the mining operations, but right now he wished he could blow the whole damn thing to hell.

  He remembered the days as a kid when he could ride his horse through bushland on the other side of that boom gate long before the expansion of the mine.

  It had once been a small family operation, before Bannister sold out the lion’s share to Wongan Creek Mining when the vein of gold proved bigger than expected. Now he couldn’t get past the gate to have a friendly chat with the man who leased the land back to the company. Whichever way you looked at it, Bannister was the winner.

  Sliding in behind the wheel of the ute, he slammed the door shut and gunned the engine. As he pulled away, he hoped to hell they could cut through the legal shit before Harry lost his mind completely and the mine’s boundaries encroached on their land. Some days he felt he was fighting a losing battle—like he was alone in taking on the world.

  If the rumours were true and Bannister expanded operations again, the whole town of Wongan Creek would become a slave to the big gaping hole in the ground they called a gold mine.

  Irritation clawed at his gut and made him restless. He checked the time on the digital display of his radio. He had a couple of hours to kill before picking up Harry and driving into town to get the ball rolling on the paperwork that would change the old man’s life.

  A good, hard ride down by the creek on Fantasia would settle his nerves for sure. The old girl hadn’t been out for a while, so she’d enjoy the wind up her tail and a splash in the creek. It would be a good opportunity to check the fencing and firebreaks. With bush fires still a threat until the weather cooled down, he couldn’t risk his or Harry’s property.

  A smile on his face and some of his humour restored, Travis headed down the road to the T-junction and turned right onto the road that would take him home. The ride might help clear his thoughts of a certain woman who had taken up residence in a larger corner of his mind than he liked.

  Pulling into his driveway, he rolled the ute to a stop outside the house, pocketed the keys from the ignition and made his way down to the paddock where Fantasia grazed peacefully in the shade of a gumtree. He whistled and she tossed her head. Tracy’s palomino was the only other girl he needed in his life right now, besides Casey.

  He smiled as Fantasia walked up to the wooden fence and lowered her head for a pat. She nudged at his shirt pocket, looking for a treat.

  ‘Fancy a ride, old girl?’ He stroked the length of her nose and she shivered with pleasure. ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

  He covered the short distance to the barn and back in quick, long strides to collect the bridle and saddle. Fantasia danced, skittish with excitement, as he adjusted and checked straps then did a quick inspection of her shoes for stones and burrs before unlatching the gate that closed the paddock off from the open bushland on the property.

  He shrugged out of his button down shirt and hung it over the fence. It wouldn’t do to get it all sweaty and smelling of horse when he still had to go into town with Harry. He tossed his hat onto the fencepost.

  Today he wanted to feel the fingers of the breeze in his hair, the rush of the wind on his face and the cool air on his skin. Maybe it would blow the cobwebs from his mind and he would see a solution to the growing problem of Harry.

  ‘Steady now, girl.’ With his foot in the stirrup and his hand on the front of the saddle, he swung his leg across Fantasia’s rump and settled into the seat. Reins in hand, he touched his heels to her side and walked her through the gate. Easing her into a trot, he let her warm up even though she trembled with excitement at the prospect of a run. Then he let her have her head.

  ***

  Heather pulled the four-wheel drive wagon over to the shoulder of the road and got out to watch the symphony of horse and rider play out on the firebreak along the fence line of Travis’ property. Fantasia’s hooves kicked up red dust as she galloped with Travis low in the saddle, his hands loose on the reins. They moved like dancers in the wind, at one with each other as they flew down the stretch.

  Her heart stalled at the beauty of horse and man in synchronisation. Shirtless, Travis’ torso glistened under the sun with a sheen of sweat. The muscles in his arms and chest bunched with power as he used his body to control his seat. The strength in his thighs drew the denim taught across his legs as he raised his rear in the saddle and put some weight into the stirrups.

  Fantasia’s blonde mane flared in the wind along her outstretched neck, her ears back as she concentrated on her gallop. The ground vibrated under the rumble of hooves, matching the thunder of Heather’s heartbeat.

  As they flew by, she caught a fleeting glimpse of the concentration on Travis’ face before being treated to a view of the rippling control in his back. Her breath caught at the raw beauty of his body in motion. Sweet Holy Mother Mary. Her hands itched to feel the strength of those muscles beneath her palms.

  She watched as they slowed to a trot then a walk, and waited as Travis turned the horse around and headed towards her. Fantasia tossed her head, nostrils flaring as her breathing deepened and adjusted to the slower pace. Her coat gleamed with sweat, darkening it to the colour of a good Irish whiskey, the perfect backdrop for her rider’s golden tan.

  Travis reined in to stop and adjusted his seat as Fantasia danced under him. ‘G’day. To what do I owe this pleasure?’

  Heather adjusted her hat to give her hands something to do, and wished she’d worn her reflective sunglasses. She’d hate for him to see the hunger in her eyes.

  ‘Travis.’

  He smiled and her heart did cartwheels.

  ‘Missing me already?’ he teased.

  ‘As if,’ she returned, hoping she sounded indifferent and that he couldn’t hear the pounding of her pulse rate. ‘I’m on my way up to the mine. I’m delivering my first presentation on balancing family matters for shift workers.’

  ‘Wow, that’s a tough gig. Hope you’ve filled out all the paperwork to cut through the red tape. It’s damn hard to get past that gate.’

  Heather shaded her eyes against the sun with her hand. ‘Sounds like you’ve tried.’

  ‘Yeah, thought I could catch Bannister in his office and have a little chat about them harassing Harry but security wouldn’t let me past the gate without safety gear and an induction.’

  ‘I had to spend a whole day in training to do a half hour presentation. Mine rules. Not much you can do.’

  ‘I’d like to tell them what to do with their rules. Maybe I should put a few of my own in place for when they want to enter Harry’s property,’ he grumbled.

  ‘Well aren’t you a grumpy bum today?’ Heather grinned. ‘I’d love to stay and chat since you’re in such a great mood for it, but I have to be on my way. I don’t want to be late and hold up their production schedule.’

  Travis laughed. ‘I was a lot grumpier earlier. Lucky you got to see me after I worked the edge off. Bloody Bannister.’ He frowned. ‘So we won’t see you in town then? I was hoping you could join us for that milkshake.’

  ‘I’m tempted. If I finish up in time, I might pop in.’

  He leaned down towards her. ‘I’ll save you a seat.’

  ‘Travis …’ Common sense argued against accepting his invitation, but the lure of chocolate, caramel and his company teased her senses. ‘We’ll see.’

  ‘Great. Hope you can make it.’ He stared at her a moment, his eyes full of mischief and a touch of heat Heather ignored. ‘I’d better get Fantasia home.’ H
e squinted at the sun. ‘I need to hose her down and take a shower myself before I pick Harry up.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Anything more comprehensible than that one word died at the vision in her head of him in the shower. He straightened in the saddle and she found herself staring at his chest, his abdomen, the trail that led to the button of his jeans. His chuckle had her gaze swinging up to his.

  ‘Miss Penney, are you checking me out?’

  Heat filled her cheeks and there was no getting away with blaming it on the sun. ‘Put your shirt on, wise guy. You’re courting sunburn.’

  He shrugged, leaned down a little and twisted his body towards her, his eyes pinning hers like a butterfly on a cork board. ‘You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know. I don’t mind you watching.’

  Lord help her, if she looked away now it would be the equivalent of admitting she’d been having a damn good ogle, and Heather couldn’t let him have that satisfaction. She tilted her chin and stared him in the eye, ignoring his cheeky grin.

  ‘Go ride your horse. I’ve got work to do.’ A smile stretched her lips despite her resolve to keep a straight face. Serious was hard to do when those green eyes smiled back and dimples appeared in his cheeks. The man was far too sexy for his own skin.

  ‘You make it very hard for a man to obey when you tell him to get lost and smile at the same time.’ He chuckled again, a deep, sensual sound that played up and down her spine with fiery fingertips. ‘Catch you later,’ he said with a mischievous wink then he turned Fantasia’s head in the direction of the homestead, tapped his heels on the horse’s flanks and set off at a trot.

  ‘I’m not embarrassed! I’m amused by your very large ego,’ she called after him.

  With a glance over his shoulder and a wicked grin, he deliberately lifted his rear in the saddle, bent forward over the horse’s neck and set her to a gallop. Heather sighed as she watched the contours of that jeans-clad backside move with the beat of the horse’s hooves.

  ‘I’ve seen a better rear on Miss Turner’s donkey!’ she called after him, cupping her hands around her mouth to amplify her taunt.

  So maybe she was a little interested. Who wouldn’t be? She cursed the failure in her resolve not to get too close to the locals and got back into the four-wheel drive.

  Travis Bailey would be a lover no girl in her right mind could ever forget, and there was no doubt he’d been flirting. But she wasn’t a girl who could afford to play the game, not when the outcome of that game could only result in hurt and loss for the players.

  Chapter 6

  ‘What kind of bloody music is this?’ Harry stabbed a finger on the tuner button on the ute’s radio and set it searching for channels. ‘Sounds like someone swallowed the devil and he’s screaming to get out.’

  ‘That’s why they call it screaming. Modern rock music, Harry. If you changed your radio from Old Fogey’s Top Ten Hits, you’d recognise it.’ Travis grinned and reset the radio to a more mellow station.

  ‘I’ll show you “Old Fogey”, you cheeky shit.’ He grimaced. ‘This sounds like funeral music. Are you trying to put me in a bad mood?’ He pressed the button again and released it when cheerful Big Band tones filled the cab of Travis’ ute. ‘That’s better. They don’t make music like this anymore.’

  Amused, Travis cast a look at his neighbour. ‘That’s because they’re all dead. Seriously, 1940s swing? I pictured you as more of a Slim Dusty kinda guy.’

  ‘And I pictured you as less of a wally. Stop taking the piss and concentrate on the road. You should have let me drive.’

  ‘You don’t have a licence anymore, remember?’

  Harry sighed and looked out the window. ‘In my day, we didn’t need a licence and kids as young as ten were driving the farm utes everywhere.’

  Travis listened as the old man rambled through the memories of his younger days. Harry was fairly lucid today, thank God. A good thing considering what lay ahead. He hoped it lasted so the old bloke could enjoy his independence a little longer because soon Travis would be making the decisions about his future.

  He hoped to hell he made the right ones. It was tough enough making decisions for a minor like Casey, but making life-changing calls for a man old enough to be your grandfather was bloody hard.

  The sign welcoming them to Wongan Creek loomed as the speed limit slowed to eighty kilometres per hour then to sixty kilometres on the fringe of town. Main Street stretched ahead with its newly painted island in the middle of the road to keep visitors from straying too close to each other when passing—an addition since a ute and a car collided in the early hours one morning.

  Before the mining boom, there’d been no need for a white line to remind drivers where the centre of the road was, but now the population had grown from eight hundred residents to over two thousand, the council had called for more traffic control.

  At any given time, that number rose with the influx of tourists, motorcycle riders and guys ending or starting their shift at WCM. The once sleepy town had come to life leaving the residents to clean up the scars of revelry in the form of litter and broken hedges just in time for it to start all over again. There was little they could do about the blackened tyre tracks on the road outside the pub.

  ‘Mongrels have been doing burnouts again,’ muttered Harry. ‘Someone should take a whip to their backsides.’

  ‘Come on, don’t tell me you didn’t do the odd stupid thing when you were young.’

  ‘Yeah, but I didn’t do it in the middle of Main Street.’

  ‘Main Street wasn’t more than a dusty track back then. You couldn’t do burnouts with a horse and cart.’ Travis indicated to turn off into the service station.

  ‘Smart arse,’ growled Harry, doing his best to smother a smile. ‘Why are we stopping here?’

  ‘I’ve got to see Mick about getting my tractor fixed.’

  Harry’s shoulders sagged. ‘You’ve got a bucket load on your plate, mate, and here you are babysitting me.’

  ‘Now don’t you start with that rubbish again.’

  After Tracy’s death and his parents’ decision to take off around Australia, Travis had relied heavily on his neighbour’s knowledge and help. In the early days, he’d struggled to raise a child and do the chores around the farm. Every time he turned around, Harry was there, feeding the chickens with Casey or slapping a few sausages on the barbecue to feed them.

  Casey had the next best thing to a grandfather in Harry. He took time to read and toss a ball, show her how to fasten the straps on a saddle and set up a herb garden for her to muck around in. There was nothing Travis wouldn’t do to repay him.

  ‘You’re the only family we have, Harry. You’re stuck with us.’

  ‘You should be making your own family.’

  ‘I’d rather keep practicing, thank you.’ Travis grinned. ‘It’s much more fun.’

  Harry snorted. ‘Like you even have time for fun or anything else. Before you know it, you’ll be a miserable old sod just like me, always regretting the one who got away.’

  Turning off the ignition, Travis opened the door and tried to think when last he’d been on a date, let alone had a girl in his bed or anywhere else. That would likely account for his reaction to Heather. She stirred his blood more than anyone had for a long time, but his focus had to be Harry and Casey’s welfare.

  ‘All this talk of fun won’t get the tractor fixed. Come on, old man, Mick’s been hanging out for a visit from you. I did warn him you’d be a bit grumpy about it.’

  ‘Not the visit to Mick making me grumpy.’

  ‘Ah, so it’s old age then?’ Travis teased.

  ‘Your turn will come, lad. You’ll see. Gives me the shits that this old body doesn’t work the way it used to.’

  Harry climbed out of the car, his movements stiff and awkward, and slammed the door behind him. He paused a moment to look around, as if drinking in the view and etching it into his memory.

  Travis’ heart ached for his friend. He knew it woul
dn’t be long before Harry didn’t recognise much at all, let alone the town he’d grown up in and the people he’d known for over seventy years.

  With a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder, Travis said nothing as he steered him towards the doorway of Mick’s old garage that had once been a drafty railway shed. All he could do for Harry was make sure the old man made the best of the time and memory he had left.

  Half an hour later, with an order placed for a new engine, Travis and Harry left the ute parked at Mick’s and walked the couple of blocks to Doc Benson’s surgery. With every step, Harry’s humour evaporated further, but Travis ignored the bite in his tone.

  The wait for Doc Benson to finish with his last patient only made the old codger grouchier. So when the door opened and John Bannister strode from the consulting room, Harry was ready to spit spiders.

  ‘Shoulda known it was you holding things up, Bannister. You think you own this bloody town.’

  ‘Harry,’ Travis growled, putting a restraining hand on Harry’s arm as the old man reared up off his seat and almost lost his balance.

  Harry shook him off and advanced on Bannister, poking a crooked finger into the man’s chest. ‘Keep your bloody thieving mongrels off my land.’

  Bannister, to his credit, kept his hands firmly at his side and let Harry poke away. ‘It was an honest offer, Murchison.’

  ‘Honest offer, my arse! You’ve never had an honest bone in your body. Take, take, that’s all you bloody Bannisters know.’

  ‘I’ve never taken anything from you, Harry. At least nothing that wouldn’t come willingly.’

  John Bannister’s crafty smirk had Harry’s ears turning red. Face purple with rage, he took an unexpected swing at the man’s jaw, his knuckles connecting with a whack. Mrs Benson gasped in horror and called out to Doc.

  Travis leapt into action, stepping between the men and stopping Harry from taking a second shot. ‘Harry, enough!’ He placed firm hands on the old man’s shoulders and walked him back until his knees hit the chair and he collapsed into it.

  Bannister wiped the blood from his mouth. ‘You’re a fool, Harry. You had nothing to offer a woman like Eileen anyway. She had high hopes, expensive dreams, wanted things you’d never be able to afford to give her. I did you a favour taking her off your hands.’