by Diana Fraser
“Nearly a year and a half. When did you arrive?”
“Two years ago. And I knew immediately this place was home. What more could a girl want? A small town where everyone knows everyone else, friends and of course, stars.”
“There are stars everywhere.”
“Not like here. We’re so far from the big cities, the sky is darker, there’s minimal light pollution, and combined with the powerful telescopes up at the observatory, it’s a first-class sky.”
“A first-class sky.” He glanced upward. “I guess it is.”
“So if you’re not from around here, what made you come?”
He groaned inwardly. It didn’t look like he’d evaded the questioning. “I move around. Worked on most of the big stations in Canterbury and Otago.”
“And so you just came here. Because…”
“Because I heard there was a job going and I’d heard about this place before.” He knew he’d said too much even before she replied.
“Ah-ha! So you’d heard about Glencoe before. How come? What had you heard? Tell all!”
He was silent for a little while, wondering how to reply. His past was his alone and he never talked to people about it. If you told someone something, they had power over you. But Rebecca was different. He cleared his throat. “My mother was from around here.”
Rebecca was evidently so surprised that she pulled her horse to a standstill. He walked on a few paces and then turned in his saddle. “It’ll take us even longer to get to the ridge if your horse doesn’t move.”
“Oh! Sure.” She looked uncertainly at her horse.
“Just flick the reins. She’ll go.”
Rebecca did, and the mare went. “Your mother was from here, you say?”
“Um.” Morgan regretted having told her already. “Looks like it’ll be an easy ride over to the ridge. Ready to go a bit faster yet?”
“No.” She had her clear gaze fixed on him in such a determined way that he realized he wasn’t going to get out of it by simply changing the subject. “So where was your mother from? Lake Tekapo?”
“Thereabouts.”
“Whereabouts exactly.”
Morgan tilted up his hat and looked around the ring of snow-capped mountains as if for inspiration. But there was none. He sighed, lifted his hat, thrust his fingers through his hair and pushed his hat back into place. “Glencoe,” he murmured. Maybe the truth would stop her.
Rebecca inadvertently urged her mare into a trot and came bouncing up beside him. For once, her fear was forgotten. “Glencoe?”
He turned to her. “Look, I shouldn’t have said anything. No one knows. Not Callum, nor anyone else. And I want it kept that way.”
“Why? Is it a secret?”
“It’s not a secret!” he said, too forcibly. “Not exactly,” he said, quieter. “Look, I’m a private man. I like my personal life to be just that. It’s how I like it.”
She nodded. She might understand but he could tell by the obstinate jut of her jaw that she wasn’t going to let it go.
“Okay. I won’t say anything.”
He narrowed his gaze, suspicious. “Good.”
“Provided you tell me everything,” she said with a disarming smile. He pulled up his horse so sharply that Rebecca yelped in surprise.
“Are you blackmailing me?”
He should have been annoyed but the naughty sweetness of her smile did other things to him instead. He shifted in his saddle and was glad of the heavy coat that came to his thighs.
“Yes, I am.”
“Then I have no choice.”
She tilted that cheeky face making her even more adorable. “No, you don’t.”
She’d thought she’d won. He’d have to show her she hadn’t. He came closer to her and lowered his head to hers and spoke confidentially. “Now, what I want you to remember is…” His fingers took hers from her reins and guided them gently to the pommel on the saddle. Then he smoothed his hands down the flank of the horse as her eyes remained on his.
“Yes,” she said breathlessly. The wind seemed to die down around them and there was only the sun, the fresh air, the warmth of the horses, and their faces, close to each other.
He gently rubbed the horse’s flank and then raised his hand. “Is… to grip with your thighs and hold onto the saddle.” She still hadn’t got it, he could tell by her frown. He drew away and lightly smacked Rebecca’s horse on the rump. Rebecca yelped again as the horse moved smoothly away, gathering speed gently, allowing Rebecca time to tighten her grip.
Morgan followed close behind. For a brief moment, as he watched Rebecca bounce almost uncontrollably on the horse’s back, he wondered if he’d gone too far. But he knew the mare was sensitive and was taking it easy on Rebecca. He trusted the horse and he was proven right as the mare fell into a rolling canter. Rebecca adjusted to the speed and followed his directions.
He cantered up beside Rebecca. She didn’t turn to him. The reins were flying free and she was holding on to the saddle for dear life, but he could see the flush and smile on her face—it had quickly replaced the initial fear.
“Bastard!” she shouted.
“You’re not the first to call me that,” he replied with a smile. “You okay?”
She chanced a quick look at him, and he could see she was. A big smile covered her face and her eyes were bright with fun. “You were right. Cantering is easier.”
“And it means we’ll reach our destination today.”
She laughed. And he did too, not only because, with her hat lost and her hair flowing out behind her, she was absolutely beautiful, but also because he’d avoided a difficult conversation.
By the time their horses had picked their way carefully up the narrow ridge to a sheltered plateau overlooking the valley, the sun was high and Rebecca was very hungry.
Morgan jumped off his horse and tethered it loosely to a bush. Her horse walked up to him of her own accord. Morgan turned and took the halter and rubbed the mare’s nose. The mare snorted and softly nickered, and moved her head against Morgan’s hand, as if returning the affection.
“Good girl,” Morgan murmured, patting her neck. Rebecca’s heart swelled. He might be as awkward as hell with people, but Morgan West had a heart of pure gold.
“Am I?” She grinned at him.
“No, you’re a bad girl. Pretending you could ride when you hadn’t the first idea.”
“A girl has to start somewhere. I think I got the hang of it pretty quick.”
“Yep. You didn’t do too badly.” Their gazes clashed and tangled and held for a few long moments. “Are you going to stay up there forever?”
She laughed, relieved the intense moment had been broken. “Well, I’ve been trying to get my body to make a move but it seems I’ve lost all feeling in my legs. I’m not sure I can move.”
He came around the mare’s flank and lifted her off the mare with as much ease as if he were picking up a child. He brought her to the ground but didn’t let her go immediately. His fingers fanned out around her sides and pressed into her coat, briefly caressing her skin beneath her layers before releasing his grip. He stepped away.
“So, let’s see you move.”
For a brief moment she’d forgotten the ache in her legs and higher. She winced as she took a step forward on legs like jelly. He took a blanket out of his pack and threw it on the ground. “Don’t have any cushions, I’m afraid, Princess.”
She shot him a dark look. “I’m no Princess,” she said as she gingerly lowered herself to the ground. She stretched out her legs in front of her. “But I had no idea how hard riding would be on your body.”
“You get used to it pretty quick.”
She looked out to Glencoe in the distance. “Not quick enough to make the return journey easy.”
“We’ll sort something out.”
“Like Callum’s helicopter maybe?”
His eyes narrowed. “If you want helicopters and all that kind of thing you shouldn’t have come riding wi
th me.”
“You think I want things like that?”
“Sounds like it.”
She poked him in the side and he glanced at her. She couldn’t help teasing him, he looked so uptight. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should have accepted James’s offer of a champagne picnic in the mountains.”
The uptight look vanished under a dark cloud of anger. “He asked you out?”
“Uh-huh.”
He jumped up and paced away, hands on hips as he looked out into the blinding sun. She sighed and took pity on him and walked gingerly over to him. “Hey, cowboy, are you going to get in a huff with me because someone asked me out?”
“Of course not. You can go out with whomever you like.”
“That’s right.”
He turned around, his frown lowered over features that were more hurt now, than angry. “I’m surprised James asked you out. He knew—” His eyes searched her face before he turned away abruptly.
“What did he know?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter. Now do you want to share the contents of your backpack?”
“No, Morgan. No, I don’t. Not until you tell me what James knew, which I apparently don’t.”
“Come on, Rebecca. Do I really have to spell it out? James knows that I”—he sucked in a difficult breath—“that I like you.”
“Like me,” Rebecca repeated. “Um.” It was her turn to feel miffed, underwhelmed at his choice of word. “Well, I’m glad you like me.” She took off her backpack, unbuckled it, and tossed him a package. “I hope you like your meat pie too.”
He unwrapped it and took a mouthful. He nodded slowly and swallowed. “Like?” He shook his head. “No, I love the meat pie.” For a moment she wondered if he meant it. Meant that she came further down the love-like scale than a meat pie, but then one of his rare smiles broke out from nowhere and she grunted and threw an apple at him which annoyingly, he caught. “And I love a woman who showers me with food.”
“I’m glad I now know how to make myself attractive to you.” She bit her lip as soon as she’d said it.
“Believe me, Rebecca, you don’t have to do a thing.” And when she looked up into his now serious eyes, she knew he was telling the truth.
She smiled back and then pushed herself awkwardly up to standing, not liking the way her thoughts were going. She’d come here to get to know him, not to jump on him. She perched herself on a lichened rock and looked down, over billowing tussock to a lake, the bright turquoise of a glacier, around which mountain beech trees grew.
“You can see forever up here. The mountains, even Aoraki Mt Cook looks so close. It just… I don’t know, it just touches you doesn’t it? Everything’s done on such a grand scale in the Mackenzie Country. I loved it as soon as I saw it and now I can’t imagine ever living anywhere else. And imagine living out here. There’d be no lights to interfere with my view of the stars. It’d be perfect.”
He leaned back on his elbows, watching her as much as the view. He didn’t reply and she began to regret what she’d said. It wasn’t like her to be all touchy-feely about things.
She shrugged. “I’m being fanciful. It’s just scenery, after all. And you can’t live in the middle of nowhere.”
He sat up. “It’s more than just scenery. You either fit into a place, or you don’t. I fit here. And I knew it from the first day I arrived.”
“So you’re going to stay?”
“I didn’t say that. It’s my place”—he shrugged—“maybe simply because it’s where my mother came from. But I won’t be staying.”
“But why on earth not, when you feel so at home here?”
He paused. “It’s complicated. I don’t like complicated. I don’t do complicated. So I move on. Makes life easier.”
“And more unsatisfactory, I should think,” replied Rebecca suddenly feeling irritated by his easy acceptance of a life away from a place that felt like home. Away from a place where she intended to live for as long as she could. Away from her.
“It’s unsatisfactory to want more than you can have.”
“And what is it you want?”
“Jobwise? I want to get up to work another day. I want to keep on moving.”
“But surely you want more than that?”
It was like a shadow passed over his face. She looked up into the sky but it was a brilliant cloudless blue. She looked back at him but the shadow had gone. Perhaps she’d imagined it. He didn’t answer, just shook his head.
“But what are your goals?” she continued.
Morgan frowned. “Goals?”
“Yeah, you know those things that everyone has which they’re working toward.”
A flicker of humor crossed his face. “Oh those. I can imagine you have a few lists with those on.”
Rebecca was surprised. “I do, actually.”
“Yeah, sure you do. If you have that ‘husband list’ you told me about, you’ll have others. Let me think. One of them will be to do whatever high-falutin’ thing you’re doing at the observatory. Maybe have a star named after you?”
She grunted. He’d come dangerously close to the truth. “Even if I’d imagined such a thing”—and she had, in Technicolor detail— “it could never happen. It would be named in accordance with the naming convention of the International Astronomical Union.”
He lay on his back and looked up at the bright blue, starless sky. “I can just imagine it—the Rebecca star, or maybe the Princess star—it would be very bright and cast all the others into shade.”
“Not going to happen. Generally speaking stars don’t have proper names.”
He rolled on his side and she looked away, not wanting to see that raw intensity in his eyes. “They’ll make an exception for you.”
“Well…” She peered into the distance, willing the heat that his gaze stirred, to disappear. It didn’t. “So that’s me sorted. What about you? I don’t believe you have any goals.”
It worked. He rolled back and looked up at the sky. “No goals. Goals are for sports, for school children. All I want is what I do.”
“I don’t believe you. There must be something more. That’s too… too content.”
“And content bothers you?”
“It doesn’t bother me. It’s just weird. I’ve never met anyone like you before. There must be something more.”
“Uh, uh.” He shook his head and plucked a piece of grass and sucked it.
She knelt awkwardly, wincing at the ever-growing ache of discomfort between her legs from the horse ride. “Okay, close your eyes.”
He looked at her suspiciously.
“Close your eyes,” she said more firmly.
“No,” he said equally firmly.
She sighed. “Okay, then.” She reached across and took his hand in hers. The expression in his eyes changed instantly and she knew she had him then. “Please, close your eyes, just for a moment. I’ll close mine too. Sometimes knowing what you want is easier when you can’t see.”
“Now you’re talking nonsense.” But he closed them and she closed hers. “Now, tell me what you like.”
“This.”
She peeped out of the corner of her eye and saw he was looking at her. “Morgan,” she warned.
“This land, I mean, Princess.” He looked around.
She opened her eyes. “You like this land? You want your own farm?”
“Not want. I’ll never have it. But I like it all right. Somewhere where I can breathe, somewhere I can call my own.”
“Why is that so important to you?”
He shrugged. “Just is. But it’s a dream. And I don’t do dreams. I work. I move on.”
“Are you running from your past?”
He cocked an amused eyebrow at her. “Fancy yourself an analyst as well as an astronomer?”
“Doesn’t take an analyst to see you’re running from something. People are either running to something, or from something. And as we’ve ruled out that you’re running to something, you must be running f
rom something. Someone been mean to you, cowboy?”
“Sure have. My stepfather used to give me the bash every time he drank. And he drank all the time.”
Rebecca was appalled. “He hit you?”
“Yeah. You think I’m a bastard. He really was a bastard. Through and through.”
“Then why didn’t you mother try to leave him?”
“Too scared. We lived out in the bush behind Hokitika on the west coast. Very remote. Too far to walk to the nearest highway and my mother couldn’t drive.”
“So how did you get out?”
“I learned how to drive from books, magazines, watching my stepdad. And when I was old enough I drove me and Mum out of there in the old man’s clapped-out ute. We disappeared and began a new life with new names. At least until the old man died, a year later. Fell down and broke his leg in the bush. Drunk as a skunk no doubt. And died of exposure so the papers said.”
“Oh my God!”
“Hell of a relief to us. Mum was able to access some funds then. We both had work and life was good for a few years until Mum passed away. Life with her old man had weakened her.”
“So that left you. But you had some money inherited from your mother?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t want it. I told the lawyers to invest it and left.”
“So you were all alone. How old were you when you drove out of the bush?”
He shrugged. “Around twelve I reckon. Not that my birthdays were ever celebrated.”
“You drove a car for the first time at twelve?”
“Yep. It wasn’t so hard. Not a lot else to do in the bush except watch and learn.”
“And you got your first full-time job at twelve?”
“I was big for my age.”
“And you lost your mother when you were around fifteen?”
His lips formed a grim line and he swallowed. She stretched out her hand to this man who kept so many secrets, so many painful memories, tight inside. She took his hand in both hers and turned it, looking at it carefully—the hand that had no doubt tried to protect himself from his stepfather’s blows, the same hand that had been his mother’s savior and that had begun work at such an early age. “I’m so sorry, Morgan. No boy should have to go through experiences like that.”
