Green Paddocks

by Jane Corrie

  Green Paddocks

  Jane Corrie

  CHAPTER ONE

  HOLLY'S eyes were screwed up against the glare of the sun, then she saw him. There was no mistaking that broad chest and the way he pushed his hat back for one brief moment as if allowing the air to cool his forehead, then push it back again in slightly tipped position.

  'Hal!' she called, and with half disbelief saw him raise his head briefly and stare in her direction, then with slow deliberation turn his gaze back to where it had been before, watching the herd of cattle on the lower plains.

  'Seems you've either got the wrong man, or he just doesn't want to know,' drawled the lazy voice of Hayes Chester beside her.

  Holly closed her lovely green eyes; she hadn't got the wrong man, and crazy as it seemed it looked as if his second surmise was correct.

  'Well, what now?' drawled the voice Holly was beginning to dislike very much. She had not been very enamoured of him at their first meeting when he had condescendingly admitted he had a head stockman answering to the name of Hal Munt, and even more condescendingly offered to take her out to the stock run to locate him. She felt the cold grey eyes of the man on her, impatient for her answer.

  It seemed she hadn't much choice; she would have to go back to the township and try and find some other way of contacting Hal. Holly had not come all this way to find out the reason for Hal's sudden take-off from her father's ranch a month ago, without ascertaining the facts.

  With a light touch on the horse's flank, Holly swung back in the direction from where they had come. 'Thank you, Mr Chester,' she said. 'I'm sorry to have taken up your time. It appears there has been some misunderstanding. No doubt I shall eventually know the cause.'

  Holly spurred the horse into a gallop, wanting to put as much distance between herself and the cynical man who owned the spread of land she was on. Coomela was double the size of her father's ranch, which in terms of acreage was no mean feat. More prosperous too, she thought, as she neared the lush paddocks near the old but exceedingly grand ranch-house. She wondered vaguely if it was good management, or whether some city tycoon had invested in the place, but thinking of the man thundering after her in a manner that suggested he hadn't liked the way she had so abruptly terminated the conversation, she had a feeling the answer lay in the extremely capable, if harsh hands, of that same man.

  Hayes Chester caught up with her long before she reached the unsaddling area, and had swung off his horse and stood watching her dismount with slightly narrowed eyes. No offer of help, Holly noticed—not that any was needed; she had ridden since she was old enough to be put in the saddle. She thought wistfully of home, where old Jamie would be standing by keeping a watchful eye on her as he had done since she was a tot, and since he had been relegated to the stables after a bad fall had taken him off the stock run for good. His quaint old pidgin English greeting came to her as she hitched her mount to a nearby rail; all these meaningless but safe thoughts went through Holly's head, anything but the realisation that Hal had turned away from her, she would think about that later. Her car stood in front of the ranch-house and she made her way towards it.

  'Miss Drew?'

  Holly turned and faced the man who had not moved his position since dismounting, she saw the way the cold grey eyes swept over her from head to foot. He'll know me next time, she thought, and repaid the compliment by giving him the same slow appraisal. There was, she thought, nothing to complain of if you went for the strong silent type; his deeply tanned face was ruggedly handsome and noting the powerful shoulders Holly could well imagine him throwing a bull; she had a feeling there was nothing his stockmen could do that he couldn't, and probably did better; all this she instinctively knew about this man. She didn't like him, but she respected the type of man he represented. She had grown up among them, the spoilt darling of twenty hands. She found herself blinking rapidly; that was before her father's sudden death, the day before Hal had made his abrupt departure without so much as a careless 'see you'. For Hal of all people to do that when she needed his comfort so badly !

  'Can I take it you will not be following up the association?' asked Hayes Chester caustically.

  Holly knew a moment of surprise at the audacious question. What had it to do with him? Was he afraid she would take to hanging around the ranch? Her eyebrows rose haughtily. 'If Mr Munt should ask after me, will you please tell him I'm putting up at the Green Parrot,' she said quietly, ignoring his question.

  He hadn't liked that, his own brows rose. 'If,' he said sardonically, then abruptly added, 'I shouldn't count on it, though. If you take my advice, you'd go right back home, young lady. Do your parents know where you are?'

  Holly gasped. She was twenty years old—for goodness' sake, how old did he think she was?

  'I would say Hal's just a bit too old for you, wouldn't you?' He shrugged his shoulders, a movement that made the muscles ripple under his tan silk shirt. 'So he made a play for you one time, but isn't it obvious he's lost interest? Now why don't you be sensible and call it a day? If you prove troublesome he'll move on elsewhere, and I've no wish to lose the best man I've got on the ranch,' he added curtly.

  Holly's eyes flashed; he didn't believe in pulling his punches, did he? In other words—get out, you're rocking my boat ! She'd do more than rock it ! Turning back towards her car, she got in and flashed him a sweet smile. 'I'm sure you mean well, Mr Chester; you will remember to tell Mr Munt, won't you—er—the Green Parrot?'

  She caught the swift blaze of anger in his eyes as he moved towards the car. 'Why, you stubborn little minx!' he ground out. 'I've a good mind to—' For a startling second Holly thought he would drag her out of the car, then he took hold of himself and stood glaring down at her. 'As you don't seem inclined to accept my advice, I'll give you a warning. Stay away from my ranch. What Munt does in his spare time is none of my business—though I must say,' he said disdainfully, 'I would have thought he would have had more sense than to tangle with a teenager !'

  That did it ! Holly's hands froze on the wheel of the car. 'For your information,' she blazed, 'I'm twenty, and though that might be a teenager to you,' she said baldly, 'it's considered adult where I come from. As for Hal tangling with me, as you put it—you haven't the least idea of what you're talking about! And,' she spat out, 'I wouldn't step foot on your property if you went down on your knees!'

  She jerked the ignition key and let out the clutch and revving the engine twice as loudly as necessary, she took off leaving a cloud of dust in her wake.

  Holly kept her foot down on the accelerator; she was so furious she was trembling. She was not used to that kind of treatment. All her life she had known nothing but over-anxiousness for her welfare. She had done the stock run with the men, and played her part at mustering, a useful part too, even though she knew any hint of danger would bring a dozen men ringing round her. Coddled and spoilt, yes, but it had not given her any puffed-up ideas of her own importance.

  She was more at home in jeans and T-shirt than dresses and skirts, and her father had often despaired of her accepting the fact that she was a young lady and not one of the stock hands, and had sent her to Adelaide for the sole purpose of having that fact dinned into her. Holly had hated every minute of it, but had had to conform, for the time being anyway, but it hadn't taken long for her to get back into her old stride once the schooling was finished, and for her father to admit ruefully that the experiment had failed.

  Holly had not been able to see the sense of it at the time. What use was knowledge of how to wear clothes and how to walk and talk as if attending a mayoral occasion to someone like her? The ranch was her home and always would be—or so she had thought. However, since her father's death, certain things had come to light that began to make sense of the exp
ensive schooling she had received, and she had found the ranch would remain her home on one condition. It was that condition that sent her scouring New South Wales for a certain stockman—Hal—whom she had grown up persistently trotting after; her wide green eyes watching every move of his during mustering, which she would later invariably try to mimic, and invariably get cut down, to size for her pains.

  It was Hal who taught her to ride—in fact, she mused, as she neared the township, had taught her everything. When Holly was a little girl she had promised herself that she would one day marry Hal. He was big, strong and handsome, and although stern on occasions, was a just man, and the men accepted his authority without question, as did Holly. With green eyes, she had a temper to match, but Hal could quench her fire with a single look and she would find herself trying to please, rather than displease.

  This state of adoration for Hal lingered through her early teens, and when she was eighteen, Holly suddenly came to the conclusion she had outgrown her childish wish to marry him, but the affection and respect was still there. It would be to Hal she would confide her troubles. Her father had not taken much interest in the running of the ranch in the latter years, and did not seem to do much but sit around, and this had worried Holly until Hal had explained about his health. Holly hadn't known it, but the disease was incurable, it had just been a question of time. It was Hal who had run the ranch, and his sudden exit out of her life was as stunning a blow as her father's death had been.

  She drew up outside the white-painted motel with the motif of parrots on a huge sign hanging above the door. Going in, she booked a room, and at the inquired 'For how long?' she frowned. She wished she knew—two, three days—a week? She sighed. 'I'm not sure, but perhaps a week,' she said.

  Taking the key, she walked towards the chalets fronting the building and found hers was at the end of a row opposite the main building's dining area. Unlocking the door, she made a small moue of distaste at the smell of stale air that greeted her. She walked to the latticed windows and one by one flung them open. The unit consisted of a sitting-room, one bedroom and bathroom. Carrying her case through to the small bedroom, she placed it on the bed, making no attempt to unpack, then sat down on the bed and stared with unseeing eyes at the pine-coloured wall in front of her. She only saw Hal sitting astride his horse and that one telling gesture of his. Holly brushed an impatient hand across her eyes; she had come so far she couldn't go back now, not without finding out the reason for his strange behaviour—but how could she find out? Would Hayes Chester pass on her message? She was almost sure he would not. Hadn't he told her to go home?

  She stood up abruptly; perhaps that was what she should do. Hal wanted no part of her problems; had he known about Pete Mills? If he had it would explain a lot of things, for Hal had never had much time for him. Holly shook her head wearily, he would have come to find her to ascertain the matter—not left without a word. She walked through to the sitting-room and saw a telephone on a side table; she ought to phone Milly, she'd be worried. With a sigh, Holly picked up the phone and asked for the number she required; and within a short space of time she was connected.

  'Where you bin?' demanded a worried Milly.

  Feeling the wetness gathering behind her eyes, Holly swallowed; Milly had been as good as a mother to her since she had lost her own when she was four. She could see the stout Aboriginal woman with her bright-coloured apron, one hand clutching the instrument, the other plump arm with work-roughened hand resting on her waist, a characteristic pose of hers. 'I'm up in Coomela, Milly, sorry I haven't rung through before.'

  'You found that fella?' demanded Milly.

  Holly wished she hadn't asked that question. 'Yes,' she said abruptly. 'I haven't had time to talk to him yet, he's working on a place called Coomela.' Hastily switching the topic, she asked, 'How's things your end?'

  'All tops and turvy,' Milly grunted. 'That Pete Mills sure ain't the mos' popular fella round these parts. Tim and Dave are aiming to move on; Dave had an uppa and downa with him yesterday. Look, you get that fella back, Holly girl. He knows what's right, boys can't make head nor tail of what's going on, and is something ain't done quick, we ain't going to have no boys, nohow.'

  'I'm doing my best,' replied Holly, quite unable to prevent a break in her voice.

  'You all right?' demanded Milly suspiciously.

  'I'm fine,' lied Holly. 'Just tired, I guess. I only got here today. Look, I'll ring you tomorrow, and Milly?' she added hesitantly, 'tell them I'll be back shortly. Try and get Tim and Dave to hang on.'

  Replacing the receiver, Holly stood dejectedly in the middle of the room, her slender shoulders bent, and her bowed head with its blue-black hair cut urchin style motionless. Why had she said that? What right had she to raise hopes? Green Paddocks had been taken over; no longer did a Drew own it—her mouth twisted bitterly; not even a female Drew.

  She heard a clap of thunder and automatically her thoughts went out to Hal up on that hillside. Right now he'd be watching that herd waiting for a break from the leaders, then he'd pelt hell for leather towards them and head them off. This time the tears did fall. She straightened her back, she would go back tomorrow. There was no point in evading the issue. She would see each of the men and explain the position, either ask them to stay on for her sake—or, she closed her eyes, she could manage Pete, she had always been able to manage him, but right now he held an unbeatable hand, and knew it.

  Wearily she made her way back into the bedroom and unpacked the necessary items for her one night stay, then made her way to the dining room for an early dinner, after which she would take a walk around the township to help pass the time before she could retire.

  She slept fitfully, vaguely aware of the storm echoing around the hills that enclosed the township. In the morning the air was fresh and the greenery twice as bright, but Holly noticed none of these things; she only knew she was alone, more alone than she had ever felt it was possible to feel. Back at Green Paddocks were the folk she had grown up with, and that soon was to be taken away from her, she would have to face up to that fact. As for Milly ... She hastily picked up her toilet requirements; she couldn't begin to think about that. Nevertheless, she did think about it, and as she showered she found herself hoping for a small miracle, although fifty thousand dollars could hardly be considered small; as far as she was concerned it might just as well be fifty million. She hadn't got it, nor was she likely to get it. After her ablutions, Holly packed her case and left it ready to pick up after she had breakfasted.

  During her solitary breakfast later, she felt conspicuous alone in the large dining room. Most of the guests had left early, the last two had made their exit soon after she had arrived. Holly made a pretence of studying the menu, but her thoughts were far away from the listed selection offered, and she did not see or hear the approach of the man until he was almost at her table. Glancing up, she met the cold eyes of Hal. At first she knew surprise and it showed in her eyes, then noting the lack of warmth in his, something snapped inside her.

  'Boss suggested I come,' he said coldly.

  Holly said nothing, but just watched him. She couldn't understand his attitude. Hayes Chester, it appeared, had given the order, and Hal had had to obey. She looked away. 'Hal, I don't pretend to understand what's happened,' she said quietly. 'I only know you left ... and things are in such a mess.' Her voice wavered.

  His voice still held coldness. 'Did you expect me to work out my month's notice?'

  Holly stared at him. 'Month's notice?' she repeated incredulously.

  Hal's blue eyes were bleak. 'Signed by one Holly Drew, in case you've forgotten,' he said harshly.

  Holly's eyes widened in disbelief. 'Are you bushwhacked?' she demanded. 'As if I'd do a thing like that when I need you so badly!' Again her voice faltered, she closed her eyes. 'Hal,' she said slowly, 'I guess I'm a bit bushwhacked myself. Are you trying to tell me I fired you?' Her eyes sparkled with the glint of tears when she opened them to look at him.


  He pulled a chair out and sat down next to her. 'Seems,' he drawled, his eyes searching her face, 'someone's got a lot of explaining to do. Pete Mills, for instance! Did you sign anything, Holly girl, after your dad died?'

  Holly frowned. It was hard to concentrate on that particular period in time; she recalled Pete coming over that same morning and telling her he would see to things. Pete had the neighbouring ranch and was a frequent visitor to Green Paddocks. Although he was only five years older than herself, Holly had always considered him more her father's friend than hers. 'Yes,' she said slowly, 'Something to do with the stock movements—he said something about giving you clearance for the sales. I don't really remember much, you know. Does it matter?'

  'Pity you didn't read it through, girl,' he said quietly. 'You might have signed away the ranch for all you knew.'

  'I didn't sign your dismissal, Hal,' she said firmly. 'Whatever it was, I would have recognised one of those forms.'

  Hal's lips set, and he shook his head. 'You wouldn't have noticed any difference, girl, not unless you were on the look-out for it, and you weren't.' His large hands clenched into fists, 'It was a pretty fancy document on the whole, thanking me for past service, etc.'

  Holly gasped as the implication hit her. 'Well !' she declared. 'Of all the underhand tricks ! Why, without you we wouldn't have survived, and he must know that.'

  The waitress approached hesitantly as if not sure whether to interrupt or not and Holly ordered coffee; she had no appetite for food. When the waitress left, she looked across at Hal sitting frowning with narrowed eyes, lost in thought. He looked up suddenly and his eyes were gentle as he saw the concern in hers. One large hand was placed over hers.

  'Honey, I'm sorry—guess I fell for the big hustle, didn't I? I ought to have known better,' he muttered. 'Thought you'd come to some arrangement with Pete Mills. I guessed your father's death had knocked you sideways; perhaps if I'd told you there wasn't a chance he'd recover it would have been easier on you, but I hadn't the heart. As for Mr Mills, who the hell does he think he is? I'll knock that damned dismissal note down his throat !' he growled.