by Mandy Magro
‘I hope I ravished you at the right time, Anne Willows. For right now you may be carrying our offspring. And let’s hope it’s a boy or I’ll have to drown it. Girls are worthless to me. They can’t carry on my name.’
Furious, Anne turned to face him, the words he spoke too potent to ignore. ‘You wretched man. I hope you rot in hell!’ She stepped away from him, her legs like jelly and her feet feeling as though they were made of lead, but she focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Instinctively, protectively, her hands went to her belly. And then everything made perfect sense.
CHAPTER
9
2012 — Far North Queensland
‘Rising Sun’ boomed from the speakers, Jimmy Barnes’ throaty drawl unmistakable, as the growing crowd ambled from the pub’s brightly lit dining room through to the decorated area, their friendly conversations making it almost impossible for Taylor to decipher the drink orders across the long timber bar.
‘Hey, mate,’ hollered Jasmine as she scooted behind Taylor, grappling with a huge bag of ice before attempting to tip it into a massive esky, her six-month baby bump making it slightly more difficult than usual.
Taylor rushed to help her. ‘G’day, Jaz. You shouldn’t be lifting heavy stuff like this.’ She protectively waggled a finger. ‘Ask me to do it next time.’
Jasmine huffed. ‘Shit, you’re beginning to sound like Wes. I may be starting to look like a beached whale but I’m not incapacitated.’
Taylor tipped the bag, and some of the ice that missed the bucket landed on her boots. ‘Well, you should learn to listen to your hubby. Sometimes he might be right, you know.’
Jasmine waved the suggestion away. ‘Pfft, that’ll be the day.’
Taylor couldn’t help but laugh at Jasmine’s stubborn independence, as it was similar to her own. ‘You ready for a big night?’
‘You betcha! I love getting to catch up with everyone.’ Jasmine curled her bottom lip in mock dismay. ‘Even though I’m working.’
‘I know, tell me about it. All work and no play, as they say.’
‘You got that right, Tay. I can man the bar now if you want to clear up a bit, before we run out of clean glasses.’
‘Sure thing, Jaz.’ Grabbing a tray, Taylor scurried out from behind the bar, saying g’day to the faces she knew and enjoying being quickly introduced to the ones she didn’t.
Beryl Harrison, her mop of purple curls styled to perfection, and with matching thick purple glasses perched on her nose, stood on tippy-toes and kissed Taylor’s cheek. ‘Night, love.’
‘Oh, bugger, are you off, Beryl? I was hoping to have a boogie with you on the dance floor later on,’ said Taylor, motioning to where a small bunch of people were already boot scooting beneath flashing lights and a big glittering disco ball.
Beryl tugged her handbag over her shoulder, chortling. ‘Ahh, I’m a bit old for that malarkey now, dear. After decades on my feet at the post office, my old legs don’t have the life in them that they used to.’ Beryl touched her heart. ‘Even though the old ticker’s still as fit as a fiddle.’ She tapped her watch to indicate it was time to go home to her husband, Walter, who was perched on his favourite stool at the bar. He promptly followed orders and skolled his freshly poured schooner.
Taylor stifled a giggle. She could certainly see that Beryl wore the pants in the relationship. She returned a kiss to Beryl’s wrinkled cheek. ‘Night, then. Catch you during the week.’
When Taylor had a second free from serving behind the bar, she would scan the sea of faces, searching only for one. It was nearing nine o’clock and she still hadn’t spotted him, and part of her was disheartened by the thought he may have decided not to show up. She caught Jasmine’s eye, mouthing she needed the toilet, before dashing off down the corridor.
As Taylor made her way back to the bar, a bulky hand grabbed her shoulder. She spun round to find Cooper’s handsome face smiling back at her. ‘Hi, Taylor, how goes it?’
Taylor smiled, genuinely happy to see him. Cooper was a good bloke, hardworking and funny. ‘Great, but busy, I can’t chat now, but I finish around ten. So, if you’re still about, I’ll have a drink with you then.’
Cooper raised his beer. ‘With an offer like that, I sure will be.’
‘Good. Your shout,’ she said, patting him on the back.
Ducking back behind the bar and taking another order for several beers, Taylor spotted Jay over near the jukebox. He stood side-on, beer raised to his lips, a small huddle of blokes around him laughing and chatting. He wore a navy blue button-up dress shirt and butt-hugging jeans and she found herself unable to look away. As if sensing her, he turned, his chocolate-brown eyes coming to rest on hers. He smiled confidently as he tipped his head in a gesture of hello, sending her heart fluttering like a kite in the wind. She grinned back coyly, embarrassed he’d just caught her perving at him.
Silently cursing herself while grabbing three clean schooners from the tray, Taylor began pulling the tap, filling each glass with the amber liquid, the right amount of froth on top. Col gave her the thumbs up and she allowed herself a smug smile — after weeks of practice she was finally pouring the perfect beer. Dodging Jasmine, she clutched the three glasses and passed them across to the unknown face, gracing the middle-aged man with a friendly smile that he returned. Ready to move on to the next patiently waiting partygoer she faltered, a feeling of déjà vu washing over her. She glanced back at the man as he walked away, his swagger that of one who had lived in the saddle. He was obviously a stockman but where she recognised him from, she didn’t know. Had she already met him briefly? It was possible; she had been introduced to a lot of people these past few weeks. She watched as he passed a beer to Jay, her gaze lingering once again on Jay’s well-proportioned physique.
‘Yoohoo, Earth to Taylor,’ said Zoe, snapping her long, red fingernails in front of Taylor’s face.
Taylor blinked, pulling her eyes from Jay. ‘Oh, shit, sorry, Zoe, miles away. What can I get you, mate? Or do you want to come round and get the drinks yourself ?’
‘Don’t be stupid, that’s your job,’ said Zoe half-jokingly, turning to look at where Taylor had been staring. Her smile faltered for a split second, Taylor thought, but she couldn’t be sure. Zoe twisted back, pointing accusingly. ‘Aha! Caught ya! You do like Jay. Silly girl. I told you he’s trouble.’
‘Nope. Was actually looking at Cooper,’ replied Taylor, chuffed with her quick thinking as she spotted Cooper standing directly behind Jay.
Raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow, Zoe leant further across the bar, dropping her voice a few notches. ‘So, is something going on between you and Cooper I should know about?’
Taylor blew air through her lips like a horse. ‘Nah, but he does keep harassing me for a date.’
Zoe squealed, clapping her hands. ‘Go for it, Taylor. He’s quite a catch.’
‘Really? I thought you said there was no talent around here.’
‘Stupid me,’ said Zoe, rolling her eyes. ‘I forgot all about Cooper. He’s more like a cousin to me, seeing I’ve known his family all my life, so I don’t even consider him,’ she hooked the air with her fingers, ‘. . . boyfriend material.’
‘Okay, well, then, I’ll take that on board,’ said Taylor, nodding her head to Jasmine as Jasmine gave her a harried look.
Taylor mouthed ‘sorry’ then turned back to Zoe. ‘Do you mind getting your own drinks, Zoe? We’re a little snowed under at the moment.’
Zoe pouted as she ran her hands down her skin-tight dress. ‘Oh, I don’t want to get my good dress dirty. I only need two rum and Cokes. It’ll only take you a sec. Come on, Taylor, be a sport and grab them for me.’
Taylor smiled, tight-lipped. She was beginning to see what Jay meant when he called Zoe a spoilt little brat. The girl had a tendency to flaunt the fact she was the publican’s daughter, expecting others to run around after her. It was beginning to get on Taylor’s nerves.
Two hours later, her feet aching and
lower back throbbing, Taylor rinsed the last of the dirty glasses then placed them in the dishwasher. The crowd had diminished to a more manageable number, as most of the older twenty-first attendees had headed home to the comfort of their beds. The small mob that were left were still a rowdy bunch, singing out of tune to Garth Brooks ‘Papa Loved Mama’.
Faith sighed wearily beside her. ‘Phew, talk about being flat out, my feet are killing me. I’m glad the rush is over.’ She placed her hand on Taylor’s arm. ‘You’ve worked hard tonight, thanks, sweetheart. You can finish up now if you like.’
Taylor glanced at the clock above the sink. Ten-fifteen. ‘Only if you’re sure you and Col will be right.’
‘Course we are, love. And Jasmine’s happy to stay on until midnight. She needs the money, with the baby coming. I’ll just make sure she does the light duties for closing up, like counting the cash and wiping down tables. Col’s not too pleased about working an entire hour past his normal closing time, though, but I told the old bugger to toughen up.’ Faith nudged Taylor then thumbed over her shoulder. ‘Go on; go have a few knock-off drinks with your mates. And I reckon there’s someone out there eager for you to finish up so he can buy you a drink.’
Taylor laughed. ‘Cooper? Yeah. He’s been hassling me for weeks to have a drink with him.’
‘Well, why not, he’s a good-looking bloke,’ said Faith, smiling cheekily while drying her hands on a tea-towel. ‘Oh, and one more thing, before you have a drink, Col wanted to know if you’d like to sing a few tunes? We still haven’t heard you sing, and we’re dying to.’
Taylor’s eyes lit up, excitement and fear tumbling in her stomach. ‘Sing? Me? Now? Um . . .’
‘Why the heck not? It’s the perfect opportunity to showcase your talents. You got a wonderful crowd who’d be more than pleased to have some live entertainment. We don’t get much of it around here.’
Taylor hesitated and Faith gave her a friendly shove. ‘Go on love! You can do it!’
Taylor threw her hands up in the air. ‘Okay, okay! Let me go freshen up and grab my guitar. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes or so.’
Faith gave her a squishy hug then pulled back, beaming. ‘Thatta girl!’
Taylor skidded to a halt at the doorway. ‘Can you ask Col to make sure the stage lights are as dim as they’ll go? It helps with the nerves.’
Faith smiled. ‘Will do, love.’
Refreshed and wearing a long, fitted, bohemian-style dress, her strawberry ringlets cascading freely down her back and her favourite tan and diamante Ariat boots twinkling in the dimmed spotlight, Taylor sat cross-legged on the bar stool Faith had placed on stage. Within seconds the crowd had hushed, the only noises those of excited whispers or encouraging hoots and whistles as the audience waited for her to begin.
Taylor unhurriedly settled her Fender guitar on her lap, taking a few deep breaths to steady her rapid heartbeat. Then, gathering courage, she glanced towards the crowd and spoke softly into the microphone, telling them a little about herself and the origins of the song she was about to sing.
Introduction complete and met with loud cheers, Taylor’s eyes came to rest on Jay’s, her lips quivering slightly as she returned his smile. Zoe stood closely and almost possessively beside him, a daggered look passing so fleetingly that Taylor couldn’t be sure if she imagined it. On a number of occasions throughout the night Taylor had spotted Zoe hanging around wherever Jay was, subtly edging her way into his space. Strange, considering both of them had negative things to say about each other. She couldn’t help but wonder what was going on, a surge of jealously startling her as she imagined Zoe and Jay being intimate behind closed doors.
Needing to go within, Taylor closed her eyes, allowing the country melody in her head to take over her fingers as she began strumming her guitar. She’d chosen to sing her most recently written song, one of escaping the hustle of the city, of the beauty of a small country town, and of the desire to fall deeply in love. Bodies began to sway in front of her, drinks held high, as people were drawn into her magical, lyrical world.
Whoops, hollers, wolf whistles and applause filled Taylor with deep satisfaction as she beamed from ear to ear. The crowd had loved her. Her. Taylor Whitworth — the young woman who’d been told for years by her family that no one would enjoy her country music. And God, it felt good! She stood, smiling proudly, drinking in their approval and their gratitude, as she bowed. A rush of love and optimism washed over her. Love for this town. Love for the people in it. And a whole lot of optimism for the future Driftwood could provide her. This was her home now, the place she belonged. The place she’d been yearning for her entire life.
The crowd moved forwards, and encouraging words, congratulatory hugs and pats on the back rained upon her. A strong arm moved around her shoulder shortly followed by a kiss on the cheek that lingered a moment too long, and then she was dragged into a warm hug, Cooper’s breath hot on her ear. ‘You looked beautiful up there!’ He pulled her back to arm’s length, his hands resting firmly, almost possessively, on her shoulders. ‘Come on, then, let me buy you that drink.’
Taylor nodded, not wanting to be rude by pulling away from him. As Cooper grabbed her hand and led her towards the bar, her eyes searched for Jay. Taylor’s heart dropped like a lead balloon as she realised he was gone, with not even a word of praise for her ballad. Had he left before she’d finished, uninterested in the lyrics that came straight from her heart? She glanced towards the door and swallowed down her disappointment. Zoe was probably right. Maybe it was best she keep a check on her feelings when it came to Jay Donnellson. He’d only break her heart. Matter of fact, he already had.
Jay stumbled into the blackness of the night, the fresh air helping to snap him out of his lustful stupor. Inside, he’d been frozen to the spot, his heart fluttering as he’d watched Taylor perform, finding himself totally mesmerised by her beauty, which was only magnified by her angelic, yet strong, voice. The overpowering flood of emotions had knocked him for six. It was just another layer of her that was a pleasure to discover. The crowd had been captured by her too, they hung on her every word. He couldn’t deny it. She was spellbinding.
Groaning, he tried with all his might to force her face from his mind’s eye, but failed miserably. He closed his eyes as goose bumps prickled his skin, her lyrics of hope, determination and eternal love striking a chord deep within him. She was the most intense woman he’d ever met, yet she was so very spontaneous and laid-back, as shown by her skinny-dipping episode. And although he didn’t want to admit it, in a way he wished she were singing about him. For a weak, fleeting moment he’d even considered buying her a beer once she’d finished. More fool him!
Kicking his back tyre, frustrated and angry with himself, Jay squatted down and hung his head in his hands. The muffled laughter and music floating out from the pub only fuelled his newly discovered jealousy. He had no right, nor reason, to feel like this. He had to snap out of it. What a fucking idiot thinking, in a moment of weakness, he had a glimmer of hope with Taylor. She was way too good for him. He had to toughen up, stop letting his desires take hold of him, for he knew all too well where they had gotten him in the past. Crushed. Heartbroken. Devastated.
Crossing his arms over his chest, as if to trap his emotions within, he glanced skywards, breathing heavily. He thought of Cooper wrapping his arms around Taylor. The self-possessed arsehole sure looked cosy with her. Zoe obviously hadn’t been lying when she’d mentioned there was something going on between Taylor and Cooper, he just hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it at the time. Accepting defeat, he stood and slid into the driver’s seat. Slamming his door shut, he revved the LandCruiser to life. Mates. That’s all they were ever going to be, him and Taylor, nothing more. He’d make damn sure of it from here on in.
CHAPTER
10
1861 — Goldbury, New South Wales
A wanted poster fluttered down the deserted street, the weather having taken a turn for the worse. Heaving black clouds rol
led in, the smell of rain looming. Anne pulled her shawl tighter, eager to get to her destination — without getting caught in the act. Lord only knew what Hocking would do to her if he discovered her snooping. She understood he was capable of anything, even the murder of innocent children.
Anne had chosen this moment to follow through on her plan as Hocking was too busy drinking and fondling women at the hotel to miss her. But she had to act quickly; Hocking was keeping a close eye on her comings and goings, clearly worried she was going to reveal he had raped her. So far, humiliation had kept her lips sealed. Maybe she would choose to open up to William, and maybe not. It would be a spur-of-the-moment decision when they were together again. Though the fear of what William would do to Hocking if she told him made her wary.
Using the blackness of the night for camouflage, Anne snuck past the farrier’s hut and around the back of the police station, in search of Hocking’s horse. She knew the horse would still be saddled up, as Hocking had only ridden back into town from the miner’s camp an hour ago, gloating that he had burnt down six tents, and he still had to make it home to his cottage at the end of the night. A snicker in the shadows alerted her of the stallion’s presence, and she dashed to where he stood. Then, speaking soothingly to the horse, she slipped open the saddlebags and rummaged through the contents.
Her trembling hands came to rest on a small box hidden underneath a mackintosh. She pulled it out, frowning when she realised that a lock secured the latch. From the ornateness she could tell it was a woman’s jewellery box, and a very expensive one at that. Then it dawned on her: this was the proof. It had to be Christina’s, God rest her soul. No wonder the Sydney police hadn’t been able to find her jewellery; Hocking had had it all along, probably waiting for the time he could sell it and make a fortune. Selling it too soon would have brought attention to himself. She scoffed at Hocking’s stupidity. He thought he was so damn clever but what a fool he’d been, telling her he had it. He’d been that inebriated he probably didn’t even recall telling her. Thank God for small mercies.
