She reached for his coffee mug. ‘The fun’s not over yet. Don’t forget, there’s another working bee on Saturday.’
‘Count me in. I’ll do anything that doesn’t involve socialising with the mothers of single females.’ He handed her the mug. ‘What will we be working on?’
Kree headed to the kitchen to put their cups in the sink and spoke over her shoulder. ‘Phase B.’
‘Phase B?’ Ewan repeated as she reappeared. ‘Yes, Phase B. Have you got another five minutes? I’ll show you. All we have to do is visit Bill.’
Ewan passed a hand around the base of his neck. ‘Okay. I’ll come and say a quick g’day.’
They walked into the waning afternoon light. The recent rain had refreshed the small park that would have once formed a village square in front of the coach house. She touched the leaf of a stunted evergreen shrub which was struggling to eke out an existence.
‘Do you think Tish would mind if I asked her to create a simple garden design for the park?’
Ewan matched his stride to hers as they crossed the deserted main street. ‘Not at all. She has sketchbooks full of designs for Marellen. Maybe it’s something Tish and Travis could do together.’
‘Now there’s a good idea.’ She glanced across at Ewan as they stepped onto the footpath and he held open the pub door for her. ‘Don’t forget, I still need to have my dinner, which will be another chance for them to talk.’
Bill greeted them with a wide smile and a wink. ‘So, Kree has roped you in, too, Ewan?’
Ewan grinned at the older man, affection crinkling the corners of his grey eyes. ‘She has, not that I’m sure yet what I’ve got myself into.’
Bill inclined his head towards the door leading to the wing that housed the murals. ‘You soon will.’
Kree led the way through the doorway. Mikey’s small boots thundered on the floorboards as he ran along the hall towards them.
Ewan bent to lift the smiling child. He straightened and tossed him into the air and Mikey’s laughter echoed along the hallway and in the crevices of Kree’s heart. Ewan was a born father. No matter what he believed he’d done, he didn’t deserve to live his life alone. He deserved to be loved and to have a family. She ignored the sudden lump in her throat. And she couldn’t be the person to give him such things. She’d been granted a second chance with Seth and that was all she could ask for.
Ewan placed Mikey on the ground and ruffled his red hair. ‘Did you see Kree and I walk across the road?’
Mikey’s head bobbed with such force Kree couldn’t help but laugh. Mikey’s admiration for Darby was only rivalled by his adoration of Ewan.
‘Mikey,’ she said, opening the closed door to her left, ‘shall we show Ewan what we want to do?’
Mikey grinned and took Ewan’s hand to tug him through the doorway. Ewan’s low whistle let her know the ceiling and walls adorned with scenes of rural Australia hadn’t failed to impress.
‘This is incredible.’
‘I know.’ She stopped beside him. ‘Every mural is so intricate and contains so much detail, it’s hard to know where to look.’
‘I had no idea these were even here.’ Ewan stepped closer to a painting on the wall depicting a billabong and swagman. Mikey, still holding his hand, moved forward with him. ‘So, is this Phase B?’
‘Sure is. I’ve floated the idea about Glenalla marketing itself as a town of murals. The streetscape is a perfect blank canvas. We could continue the Australiana theme and I’ve sketched a bushranger idea for the first mural.’
Ewan smiled at Mikey. ‘Kree’s very clever, isn’t she?’
The three-year-old nodded again.
Kree swung away before the lump in her throat brought her to tears. Ewan’s praise shouldn’t affect her so deeply.
She climbed the steps to a landing featuring yet more murals, needing to put some space between her and Ewan to collect herself. Once on the landing, she then followed the narrowing steps to the next, smaller landing. She grasped the wooden banister with both hands as she peeked down to where Ewan and Mikey stood, far below at ground level. Her stomach turned. She really wasn’t good with heights. She carefully turned towards the painting behind her, where the top of a painted waterfall signalled the start of a mural. The waterfall then flowed down the wall, past the first landing, to the floor.
Curiosity steadied her nerves and she let go of the banister. Never having climbed to this point before, she moved to study the waterfall, with its expert brushstrokes and vivid colour palette. Whoever the artist was, they’d possessed real talent, as well as patience and dedication. The murals would have taken months to complete.
A shape caught her eye. Amongst the water spray, was that a letter? She leaned forward. More lines and shapes crystallised into a possible word.
The room tilted. She sunk to the landing floor. The hard soles of her boots clattered on the top wooden step.
‘Kree?’ Ewan called as he took the steps two at a time to reach her. Mikey followed.
‘Are you all right? You’ve gone white,’ Ewan asked, concern creasing his brow. ‘You’re quite high up here and you did say you’re not good with heights.’
He offered her his hand and she shook her head. The only way she’d be able to stand was if he held her, and even with her current dizziness, she knew that wasn’t a good idea.
His hand lowered. ‘Do you need a minute?’ The gentleness of his voice soothed and grounded her.
‘Just a couple.’ She patted the landing beside her. ‘Here, Mikey, come and sit with me.’ Expression anxious, Mikey did so. Kree put her arm around his thin shoulders and hugged him. ‘I’m okay. Nothing’s wrong. I didn’t feel well and just had to sit, that’s all.’
She pointed to the waterfall. ‘I’m sure I’m seeing things, but Ewan, can you make out a name in the spray?’
‘I’ll take a look.’ The sharpness of his eyes told her he hadn’t missed the quiver in her voice.
He edged past her and Mikey to inspect the mural. ‘Yes, I can. It must be the name of the artist. It says D –’
Without looking at Ewan, she knew his gaze would rest on her.
Kree closed her eyes to still her spinning world. She hadn’t imagined what she’d seen.
The name Ewan had stopped reading had been D … Garrett.
Her father’s name.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
At last.
Ewan heard the diesel chug of the cattle truck as the driver turned off the side road and drove through the open double gates towards Marellen’s cattle yards. The truckie had taken a wrong turn and was an hour late, but the UltraBlacks were finally here. He swallowed. All would be good. It had to be. Marellen’s future rested on the backs of the cattle poking their noses through the gaps in the sides of the beef bus.
He got out of the ute, which he’d parked in the shade of a box gum tree beside the yards, and made his way over to the Tylers’ dual-cab. Braye, Darby and Kree sat on the open tailgate, kicking their legs and playing ‘I spy’. To the disgust of the dogs and Fudge, all animals had remained behind at the homestead with Tish. Ewan didn’t want Whiskey picking a fight with the driver’s dogs or curious Freckle being kicked by the cattle.
As Ewan drew close to the ute, Braye slid to the ground. Ewan caught him before his scuffed boots touched the grass and sat him back on the open tailgate.
‘You know the deal, Braye. Stay with Kree and Darby.’
‘That’s not fair,’ the five-year-old grumbled.
‘Yes, it is. Once the truck has backed up to the ramp you can come over and watch the cattle being unloaded. I don’t want you getting in the way and hurt.’
Kree nudged Braye with her shoulder. ‘It won’t be long. The cattle are almost here.’
Ewan’s eyes lingered on Kree. Since discovering her father was the mural artist, a faraway look had settled over her face. She’d barely said a word since arriving back from Glenalla yesterday. Then, after breakfast today, she’d moved into the Tylers
’ farmhouse. Marellen already didn’t feel the same without her. At least he’d see her tomorrow. Kree had called Travis to organise a time for their dinner and Tish had called Pru Knight next door to line her up for babysitting duties. The pot roast dinner he’d earlier dreaded couldn’t come fast enough.
The truck drew near and the breeze carried the methane smell of cattle over to them.
‘Stinky,’ Darby said softly. Both Ewan and Kree turned to smile at him.
The tray-back shuddered as Braye jumped to his feet. ‘I can see some cows. I like the ones with the white heads.’ He bent to speak to Darby. ‘Remember the crazy cow with big horns and skinny legs that jumped the fence?’
Darby nodded, not taking his eyes off the truck.
‘These cows are all black, Braye,’ Ewan said, ‘and there won’t be any hissy fits. They’re used to being handled, as they’ve been mustered using horses as well as dogs and bikes. They’re also used to vehicles and people on foot.’
Ewan examined the boys’ animated faces. Emotion caught in his throat. The UltraBlacks had to turn Marellen into a viable enterprise again. He had to ensure he created a legacy that would enable the boys to stay on the land they loved, just like their own father would have done.
‘Ewan? Is something wrong?’ Kree’s quiet query beside him reminded him of her perceptiveness. And his own weakness.
‘Not now the truck’s finally arrived.’ He pulled his hat brim a little further over his face. ‘I’m going to help the driver. Everyone stay here until the truck is in position.’
After some well-timed directions and skilled driving, the cattle truck backed up to the cattle-yard loading ramp. Metal grated as the driver slid open the rear door to the lower deck. Ewan turned to wave at Kree and the boys. Braye was the first to arrive and clamber up the cattle-yard fence to sit on the top rung. This section of the yards would remain empty, so the boys would be safe observing from their high vantage point. Darby joined Braye. With their identical profiles and the red caps he’d bought from a farm machinery field day, they were mirror images as they stared, wide-eyed, at the truck.
Kree came to stand beside Ewan. The top of her fawn Akubra now sported a few scuff marks, thanks to a playful Freckle stealing it off the kitchen chair.
‘Here they come,’ Braye said with palpable excitement as a head and shoulders emerged from the back of the truck. The cow hesitated and then charged down the loading ramp and along the thin race into the yard. Hooves clattered as other cows jostled to leave and soon a steady black stream poured into the yards. When the flow stopped, the driver walked along the ramp and into the truck. Whistles sounded before another two heifers dashed out. The dogs barked from where they remained in the dog-boxes beneath the truck. Handy for mustering, the driver didn’t need their help for unloading.
‘I’ve no idea about cows, but these look pretty good to me,’ Kree said, staring at the throng of sleek bodies at the rear of the yard. ‘Not that I can see any gold horns – actually any horns, for that matter.’
‘No, UltraBlacks are polled and bred to not have horns. They’re also bred to survive and breed in high temperatures and harsh environments. Travis and I have a university mate who runs properties in the tropics and predicts an Asian dining boom. He needs commercial herd bulls with high fertility and heat tolerance for his Braham breeders and I aim to provide them.’
‘So these will all have calves?’
‘Yes, and are already in calf – which is why they cost a packet and also why I don’t want anything to happen to them.’
‘I’m guessing by how far away you had to travel to buy them, there aren’t many UltraBlacks around?’
‘You’re guessing right.’ He smiled. ‘They’re relatively new in Australia but you Americans have already worked out the benefits of crossing superior Brangus bulls with Angus cows in a data-rich breeding programme. These heifers are as genetically elite as you can get.’
‘So, if they had horns, they really would be made of gold?’
Ewan didn’t reply. A cow had stumbled off the ramp and collapsed. For a heart-pounding second she stayed on the ground, before she stood. He didn’t realise he was gripping the cattle-yard fence until Kree’s arm brushed his. Just like in the lambing paddock, when he’d stood close to comfort her, Kree remained next to him. The warmth of her arm transferred through his thick, drill work shirt. He let go of the metal bar.
‘She’s fine, Ewan. Everything’s going to be okay. These cattle will bring the good luck the Mackenzies deserve.’
‘I hope so. I need our run of bad luck at Marellen to be over,’ he said, tone grim.
The truck driver pressed a button and an internal ramp lowered to allow the cattle on the top deck to now exit. Hooves clattered as the cows rushed to join the others outside.
‘What happens to them now?’ Kree asked, her arm remaining against his.
‘I’ll let them out into this paddock for tonight. Then tomorrow, I’ll push them into a bigger one. I usually muster by quad bike, but since the cows are quiet enough, maybe you and the boys could help on Banjo and the ponies?’
‘I’d love to and I’m sure the boys would, too.’
The truck driver followed the last of the cows along the ramp. Ewan knew he should move away from Kree. But it was as though he’d channelled the boys’ daily reluctance to come inside and take a bath; he wanted to stay near her for a little longer. Their upper arms might only be touching, but it was enough for a long-forgotten sense of peace to flow through him. He waited until the last possible moment and then eased himself away.
Her hand closed over his forearm, left bare by his rolled up shirtsleeves. He stilled.
‘Ewan, everything really will be okay. I can feel it.’
Her fingers tightened on his arm, as though willing him to heed her words.
His gaze dropped to her lips. Then back to her earnest blue eyes. He wanted to believe her. He did. But he couldn’t.
The day he killed his brother, everything stopped being okay.
Tish waved the boys off on their small ponies. Darby would be safe. Bomb-proof Buzz wouldn’t blink even if a snake slithered between his hooves. And risk-taking Braye would also be fine. Gluttonous Holly would be more intent on snatching a mouthful of grass than misbehaving. With a history of laminitis she was hand fed and usually kept away from all lush grass containing a high sugar content.
Tish waved again, this time to Kree. Banjo’s ears were forward and his stride swinging as though he knew cattle work was on the morning agenda. Ewan had already roared out of the machinery shed on the red quad bike, Whiskey on the back, to open the new paddock’s gates. Paranoid something could happen to the UltraBlacks, Ewan planned to keep them close to the homestead.
But it wasn’t only the cattle preoccupying Ewan’s thoughts. Tish hadn’t missed how his eyes had strayed to Kree’s empty seat at breakfast this morning. Just like she hadn’t missed Kree’s wistful evening vigil with Freckle on the verandah each night Ewan was up north. The way she kept the side entrance in full view, it was as though she was sitting there waiting for him to come home. She still wasn’t sure how Ewan’s impromptu visit to the coach house went yesterday. The news that Kree’s father was the mural artist had eclipsed anything else that may have happened in town. She could only hope the dinner tonight at Berridale would provide Ewan and Kree with an opportunity to really talk.
Tonight would also give her and Travis a chance to continue rebuilding their friendship. Nervous anticipation danced in her stomach. What was she going to wear? With a final check on the boys as they preceded Kree and Banjo out of the yard, Tish made her way to her bedroom.
How she loved her light and airy quaint room. Across the hall from the boys, she could hear if Darby coughed or Braye talked in his sleep. She’d open the white French doors so the scent of the nearby rose-bed drifted inside or lie in bed and stare at the delicate floral pattern of the pressed metal ceiling. It was as though the tranquillity of her garden surrounded he
r even while she slept.
Tish pulled open the wooden door of her cupboard. The colour-coded array of designer dresses that had once hung inside were long gone. When money had become tight during the drought, she’d sold them online. All that remained was a little black dress. She touched the finely woven fabric. Fergus had hated the design. The neckline wasn’t low enough or the hemline high enough, but of all her collection, this was the garment she’d been the most comfortable wearing.
She took the gown off the hanger and held it against her. She hadn’t weighed herself in years, but it might come close to fitting. Gardening kept her fit, even though her pre-pregnancy body had changed. Her waist was thicker and her once smooth skin marked. She chewed the inside of her cheek as memories pushed forward. Sure Fergus would loathe her pregnant shape, she’d hid how much her body had changed. The revulsion on his face the morning he’d finally seen her heavily pregnant in the shower would be forever etched in her mind.
She turned to lay the dress on her bed. She’d wear it. The years since Fergus’s disgust had brought confidence, wisdom and understanding. It had been Fergus’s loss he hadn’t found her beautiful when she’d felt the most alive. It had been his loss his indulged upbringing hadn’t equipped him to deal with responsibility.
And it had been his choice to betray her and his sons.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Almost show time.
Kree put the last of the items from the washing-up rack away and again glanced at the clock. The farmhouse’s dining room table was covered in a white, lace tablecloth and set using rose placemats she knew Tish would appreciate. She had put the pot roast in the slow cooker before she’d left to muster the UltraBlacks and it was now filling the house with an enticing and rich aroma. She’d managed to substitute Australian ingredients for her normal American ones and had produced a pumpkin pie that she hoped proved edible. Her back-up dessert plan was a tub of honey and macadamia ice-cream. All she needed now were her three guests.
Down Outback Roads Page 16
