The Wildwood Sisters

by Mandy Magro

  Renee nodded, her smile fading. ‘Bloody oath, I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to her. I’m really looking forward to her coming home next week, so I can have some girly chitchat. All this blokey stuff is fun, but a gal needs another gal to liven her spirits at times.’

  ‘Yeah, you women have this weird thing about yas that only other women can understand. That’s why I never got married.’ Mick smiled a gummy smile. ‘She’s a tough old broad, your nan. So don’t worry, she’ll be right.’ Nicking a strawberry off the top of the sponge, Mick threw it in his mouth, then realised he had no teeth in. ‘Shit. Hang five, I just gotta find me chompers. I think I left them on the coffee table.’

  Renee chuckled at him as he wandered back inside, returning with his teeth now in his mouth.

  He tried to suck his plump stomach in. ‘Look at me—I’d fade away to a shadow without you around.’

  Renee giggled. With his little ears and bald head he reminded her a bit of a gummy bear. ‘Yeah right, I reckon you’re pretty capable of looking after yourself after all these years as a bachelor, Mick.’

  ‘True, but a man gets sick of opening cans of baked beans and spaghetti after a while.’ He gave her a cheeky wink.

  ‘Oh come on, I’ve tasted your lamb roasts and that famous beef and dumpling stew you cook in the camp oven—you’re a man who knows how to cook.’

  ‘You got me there, I suppose.’ Sitting down on his camp chair, Mick broke off a bit of the sponge and shoved it in his mouth, grinning. ‘Now that there is marrying material. When are you going to get yourself a husband you can cook for, Reni?’

  ‘Oh don’t start on me again, Mick. You’ve been asking me that question since I was about fifteen.’ Giggling, Renee shook her finger at him, mimicking a girl from the hood with an over-pronounced headshake. ‘I’ll get me a husband when I’m good and ready. I got to find a decent man first, and one I could bloody put up with for the rest of my life.’

  ‘Well, there’s plenty of them round these parts. You just got to know where to look.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’

  Mick raised his eyebrows. ‘I reckon I know. There’s a Studs and Fuds ball on over at the showgrounds this weekend. The CWA women cater for dinner inside the hall, and outside they set a stage up on a semi-trailer for the band and everyone dances on the grass in front of it. There’re a few bonfires scattered around the place too, to sit around if you feel like chillaxing. It’ll be a top night. You should go if your pa will let you out of his sight.’

  Renee sat down beside him, excited by the prospect of a night out, especially one where she could dance out under the stars—she hadn’t done that since she was a teenager. ‘Hmm, sounds like fun. But I have to ask, what the hell is a Studs and Fuds ball?’

  Mick looked at her with one eyebrow raised almost to his hairline, like she was from another planet. ‘Really? You’ve never heard of one? What have you been doing all these years in the big smoke?’ He grabbed another piece of the cake and stuffed it in his mouth. ‘The studs are all you youngsters, and the fuds are all the old fuddy-duddies.’ He gave her a nudge with his elbow, a cheeky grin curling his lips. ‘I’m still trying to figure out which one I am—a fud or a stud. I like to think I still got it in me to impress the ladies, but I must admit I like hanging out in the hall with all the other fuds for the night. Dancing’s just not my thing anymore.’ He wriggled his eyebrows, chuckling as he tried to flex his flabby arms. ‘Maybe I can score me a fuddy-duddy hey.’ He shrugged. ‘But all jokes aside, the age differences make for a really good night.’

  ‘Oh Mick, I reckon you’re definitely still a stud.’ Renee laughed, shaking her head at his wicked sense of humour. She stared out over the eastern paddocks, bubbles of anticipation filling her. ‘A Stud and Fuds ball, hey? Sounds like it could be loads of fun.’

  Mick grinned proudly. ‘Yup, we sure know how to have a decent hoedown out here in the sticks. The one last year was a hoot. I remember a couple of the local lads being covered in tar and chicken feathers by the end of the night. How in the hell that came about I haven’t a clue, but it was bloody hilarious!’ Mick pointed to his cast. ‘Not sure if I’ll be able to make it too easily with this bloody thing on though—driving’s a bit of a challenge.’

  Renee clapped her hands together excitedly. ‘I’ll make you a deal, Mick. If you tell Pa you’re going to chaperone me, I’ll drive you there and I’ll get you back home the next morning, once I’ve slept off the few drinks I’ll be having of course. I reckon Pa will relax about me going if you’re there to keep an eye on me. I don’t want to have him up worrying about me all night.’

  ‘It’s a bloody deal.’ Mick held out his hand, grinning like he’d just won the lottery, and Renee shook it. ‘But don’t get up to too much mischief or your pa will kick my butt.’

  ‘My days of mischief are long gone, Mick, so you’ll have no worries about that.’

  ‘Oh come on now, you’re still a spring chicken.’ Mick waved his hands in the air. ‘That city lifestyle has made you old and boring—where’s your sense of adventure?’

  Without warning, Mick’s words hit home. Yes, she had a very active social life in Melbourne, but if she was going to be brutally honest with herself, she was never truly at ease in the classy restaurants and bars—never feeling as though she could really let her hair down and have fun like she used to with Scarlet leading the way. Being back here gave her the opportunity to regain that old piece of herself once again, and even though she no longer had Scarlet to encourage her, she was eager to give it a damn good try on her own. ‘You know what, Mick? You’re right. I need to get out and have some fun, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to stop worrying, catch up with old friends and dance until the sun comes up.’

  Mick gave her the thumbs up, his toothless grin almost comical. ‘That’s the spirit, Reni!’

  Standing, Renee gave him a quick hug. ‘Thanks for the pep talk. I got to head off, but I might pop back in later. Enjoy your basket of treats.’

  ‘Oh, I will, trust me,’ Mick replied appreciatively, and then pointed to her bulging backpack on the back of the bike. ‘Where you heading for the day anyway? Looks like you’ve packed enough for a week.’

  Hesitating, Renee considered whether to let Mick in on her plans. Pa hadn’t asked her where she was going today when she’d said she was going to go for a bit of a mosey around, so she avoided having to tell him, but she wasn’t going to outright lie when directly asked. ‘Umm, I reckon I might head down the back, check out the caves and the old hunter’s shack for old times’ sakes, and have a swim at the bottom dam in between.’

  ‘You be bloody careful out there girl. It’s unforgiving countryside if you get yourself lost, or God forbid, hurt.’ His scrunched eyebrows shot up in question. ‘Does your pa know where you’re heading?’

  ‘Kinda sort of…’ Renee screwed up her face, knowing Mick’s response was going to include a bit of a lecture.

  ‘I take it that’s a no then.’ Mick shook his head. ‘I’d rather you not go venturing over that way on your own, but you’ve always been a determined little bugger when you set your mind on something, so I’m not going to tell you not to go because I know you’ll go anyway. I’d come with you but I’d just slow you down all day in the state I’m in. Just promise me you’ll be careful…and let me know when you’re back so I can stop worrying, okay?’

  Renee crossed her heart. ‘I promise I’ll let you know the second I get back.’ She looked at her watch. ‘And I reckon it’ll be around fourish, if not before.’

  ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ Mick said, giving her a wink.

  ‘I won’t let you down,’ Renee said, giving him a quick wave before heading back to the four-wheeler.

  CHAPTER

  11

  The morning sun blazed radiantly in the clear blue sky, its luxurious warmth erasing any lingering dawn chill. The gathering cloud of grit and dust hovering over the drove of Brangus catt
le glimmered within its rays, a rural scene that had inspired many works of Australian art. Dylan smiled to himself. How blessed was he to land a job like this? Was Lady Luck finally smiling down on him?

  With a gentle breeze and no chance of rain, it was picture-perfect weather for a muster. Feeling at peace in the saddle, Dylan looked past the relaxed ambling mob and out over the horizon, the endless sweeping views of Wildwood Acres mesmerising. He always found the way the Opals Ridge National Park rolled seamlessly onto the borders of the properties surrounding it visually absorbing, the hundreds of towering ghost gums dotted in every direction giving Wildwood Acres an otherworldly feel. It was hard to believe his property was on the opposite side of the vast national park, the drive over here probably taking about the same amount of time as it would to gallop through the park on horseback—not that he was going to make Turbo gallop here and back every day to get to work. He quite enjoyed the casual twenty-five minute drive as it gave him time to think.

  Gazing out over the small herd, Dylan kept a keen eye on the wayward stragglers from the sideline, making every effort to keep the mob quiet and calm as he and Turbo gently pushed them onwards. With their size, speed, strength and potential for aggression, cattle needed to be handled thoughtfully and with confidence, and agitating them with aggressive movements was a certain recipe for chaos. Other than a young bull stirring the mob up occasionally with his playful pushing and shoving, and a dogged older bull that had made a few half-hearted attempts at freedom, the muster was going fairly smoothly, not that it couldn’t all go belly-up in the blink of an eye if he wasn’t careful.

  Dylan had experienced his fair share of musters in the wilds of the Australian outback, and had a lengthy scar on his back from a micky bull’s deadly horn to prove it. At the tender age of fifteen, he’d been lucky to survive the frenzied attack when he’d fallen off his horse and found himself face to face with the belligerent beast, the quick actions of the Waratah Station staff and the Royal Flying Doctor Service the only reason he was still alive today. It had taught him a valuable lesson at a very young age—to always keep on his toes when he was working with cattle, wild or not—and it had definitely come in handy over the years. To this day he had never blamed the bull, or the horse that had bucked him off.

  Pulling his hat down a little further to shade his eyes and then taking a swig from his water bottle, Dylan’s belly rumbled, the two Weetbix he had gobbled down at five thirty this morning not curbing his hunger. He was guessing another two hours or so and they’d have all the cattle at the drafting yards, just in time for a late smoko while they let the cattle settle after their walk. When he’d arrived almost half an hour early for work today, Dylan had been stoked to find out he and Stanley would be mustering the cattle to be drafted, the ones ready to be sold at the meatworks being trucked out early tomorrow morning, while the rest would be put back out onto pasture to fatten up. Mustering was his favourite kind of station work, fencing his least favourite. He looked at his watch—it was now nearing eight o’clock. Annie would be getting on the bus headed for school right about now. Thank God he had his mum there to help. He wouldn’t be able to cope without her.

  Allowing the peace of the countryside to fill him, Dylan hummed one of Alan Jackson’s new bluegrass tunes to himself—the CD had been on repeat in his Land Cruiser for over a week now. Beneath him, Turbo did his job with precision. The eleven-year-old gelding was an old hand with stock work, and he loved it. He’d been like a frog in a sock when Dylan had got him off the float at daybreak this morning, knowing from experience that he was being put to work for the day.

  Ahead, Stanley rode at the lead, guiding the cattle towards the yards over at the far eastern paddock. Dylan admired the way Stanley worked his stock with a gentle hand, the cattleman only using his stockwhip once when a bull had tried to break ranks. There was a lot to be said for a man whose cattle and horses trusted and respected him.

  Moseying along peacefully, the sound of Turbo’s hooves clip-clopping on the earth and the soft bellows of the cattle carrying with the breeze, Dylan’s mind wandered back to earlier this morning—to when he had pulled up and spotted Renee sitting on the front verandah in her pyjamas, cuppa in her hands and a dreamy look in her eyes as she’d watched the day break.

  Even though he wanted to deny it, she still looked damn amazing, bed hair and all. Her pretty face gave the sun something worth shining on, and he’d found it hard to drag his eyes away. She had given him a quick wave before retreating into the homestead, her blushing cheeks and slight coyness making her even more captivating.

  He’d never liked women that were loud-mouthed and ‘look at me’, finding them overbearing and fairly shallow-minded. Renee Wildwood was certainly not one of them. Her laid-back country attitude was one of the many attributes that had attracted him to her all those years ago, and from what he could tell after running into her the other morning, although she was a little more sophisticated on the outside, she was still that gentle and soft-spirited country girl he remembered on the inside. Part of him had been relieved when she had escaped into the house and he didn’t have to talk to her, but another part of him wished he could retreat into the house and make love to her like he’d done once before. The very thought had sent a warm rush throughout him, the memory of her touch enough to send his heart bolting.

  Sighing loudly, Dylan shook his head. He couldn’t deny it. The woman was drop-dead gorgeous, and past experience told him she knew exactly how and where to touch him to send him beyond cloud nine. He imagined what it would be like to feel that with her again, that deep soul love, a hunger that was so intense it was almost unquenchable. He had loved Shelley with all his heart and more, and had loved being intimate with her, but, he’d never experienced that feeling of delving inside her and touching her soul like he had with Renee.

  Squeezing his eyes shut for a few brief seconds, Dylan tried to clear his mind. He was angry with himself for making a comparison between his wife and his first love. His shoulders slumped as guilt weighed heavily upon him. Shelley may have left this earth, but in his heart he was still committed to her, which is why he refused to take his wedding ring off. Just thinking about Renee in such intimate ways felt wrong, very, very wrong. He wished he had an off switch for his brain because being back here at Wildwood Acres was reviving memories he’d long ago buried, including one he’d rather forget.

  For it was here, on this station, cuddled up in his swag under the roof of the old hunter’s shack, that he and Renee had lost their virginity to one another. It had been a powerfully poignant moment, when their bodies had become one, both of them clinging to one another as they’d stated their undying love for one another. Renee had told him she could never live without him, that he was all she had wanted, and more, swearing to him over and over that she’d never leave him. And he had told her the same. The only difference was, he had meant it, and she obviously hadn’t. How could a woman say they loved you, and then go and say what she did the very next day? How naive he had been, believing it was going to last forever, because as he had so harshly learnt on his journey through life, nothing really did.

  ***

  Carefully heading up the steep rise towards where Wildwood Acres backed onto the Opals Ridge National Park, the sheer vastness of the countryside came into full view. Reaching the top of the summit, Renee gasped in splendour. Overawed by the sight, but trying to keep her focus on the job at hand, she manoeuvred the four-wheeler over some rough terrain, the opening of the cave at the bottom of Shadow Mountain now visible in the jutting red rock face dotted generously with lush green vegetation. There was something about this vast, untamed, ancient landscape that drew her like nothing else on Wildwood Acres, a certain kind of magic making her feel as though she was stepping back in time, as if the sound of the breeze was the whispers of her ancestors and the sun upon her skin their warm touch. The land spoke to her out here in a way where words weren’t necessary, every inch of the earth a living pulsing entity unto it
s own. The untouched countryside definitely owned whoever stepped foot out here, not the other way around, its power something that needed to be experienced first-hand to be understood. Renee felt sorry for those souls that never ventured into Australia’s rural heartlands—they were missing out on so much.

  Coming to a stop now that she was safely on the flats again, and with the bike engine still rumbling, Renee took in the panoramic view, and the raw beauty of Wildwood Acres stole her breath away. Above, a wedge-tailed eagle circled in the cloudless cobalt sky, its birdsong capturing her attention as it disappeared over the mountaintop, a dead snake within its lethal grasp. She wondered where its partner was—eagles one of the few animals that mated for life. How she would love to find her mate for life. Her desire to love and be loved was becoming stronger as each day passed her. The very thought of having a man who came home to her every day, and loved her like he’d loved no other, warmed her heart. Would she ever be lucky enough to cross paths with her soulmate? Or had she already, and ruined it?

  Just ahead, a surprised mob of kangaroos bounded out of the thick scrub, giving her a fright and snapping her out of her train of thought. The biggest of the group stopped momentarily to observe her before thump-thumping off to safety. She shook her head at her jumpiness, the knowledge that this was a sacred Aboriginal site putting her a little on edge. She held high regard for Aboriginal beliefs, it being the oldest living culture still in existence. When she was a child the local elders had given her family their blessing to visit the cave as they wished, and she had explored it with Scarlet a number of times, but their blessing did nothing to alleviate her nervousness. Unlike Scarlet, who was an adventurer at heart, she’d always felt as though she was trespassing. But she had to do it—the place was one of Scarlet’s favourite spots to visit together.

  Parking in the shade of a towering paperbark tree, she switched off the bike and silence met her, the absence of man-made noises beautiful. The scent of lemon myrtle lingered in the air, the aroma reminding her of Nan’s yummy lemon myrtle and wattle seed muffins she used to eat as a kid. All around her, Mother Nature thrived, the earth untouched by human hands. Goosebumps prickled her skin. There was something mystical about standing amongst such natural beauty, as though she could feel roots coming up from the dirt beneath her feet, ridding her of society’s expectations and grounding her back to pure innocence—a spiritual sensation she could never experience in the city. It was no wonder some city-siders escaped to the country whenever they got the chance.