Her Australian Cattle Baron

by Margaret Way

  All the while they were touring, Amelia could hear the bright, rippling cries from the creek. The creek was omnipresent in the compound. Water had a magnetic power, its voice and the sound of the shifting currents. It would be lovely to take a dip. She had a vivid recollection of Royce’s dark all-over tan. He had confirmed he had been skinny dipping in the creek since boyhood.

  Marigold actually came out to join them as their tour was coming to an end. She wore an orange halter and white shorts. Amelia knew beneath the shorts was the other half of the bikini. Marigold obviously intended to go for a swim. She was swinging a beach bag, a towel draped over one arm that made that conclusion easy to arrive at.

  “Hi, there!” she called in the friendliest fashion.

  “It’s my sister, Marigold,” Amelia told Vernon.

  “Of course. Jimmy’s young wife. She looks like she’s going for a swim,” said Vernon, shading his eyes. “She doesn’t look a bit like you, Amelia. And she’s tiny!” Vernon had heard about Marigold, but he had never laid eyes on her.

  “Marigold is Amelia’s adopted sister,” Anthea explained.

  “Aah!” Vernon ran his fingers under his luxuriant moustache. “That explains it.”

  Marigold joined them, giving Vernon a fetching smile. “So you’re the famous gardener?”

  “Landscape designer, m’dear,” Vernon corrected.

  “I would have joined you, only I so feel the heat,” Marigold said, puffing a little. There were circular spots of colour in her cheeks. She put an arm around Amelia and hugged her. “You’ll join me for a swim, won’t you, Melly? It’s always better with you around.”

  “I don’t have a swimsuit with me,” Amelia said, none too happy about letting Marigold go off by herself. Unlike her, Marigold wasn’t a strong swimmer.

  “All taken care of!” Marigold beamed happily. “I have one in my bag for you. Do come, Melly. I’m dying in this heat.” She hugged Amelia harder in case Melly tried to break away.

  Marigold was doing an excellent job of playing her engaging young sister, Amelia thought, as Marigold continued to chat away.

  “Perfect day for a swim in the creek,” Vernon agreed. “Lord knows how many times I’ve cooled off there. So off you go!”

  “I’ll come with you,” Anthea said. “I can sit on the bank.”

  “Goodness, who would ask you to?” Marigold exclaimed. “We’ll be fine on our own, Miss Stirling.”

  Vernon looked much taken aback. “Aren’t you being a bit too polite, Marigold? You’re family now.”

  “I have so much respect for Miss Stirling,” said Marigold, straight-faced and sweet-voiced. “It’s the way I was brought up.”

  Amelia bit her tongue.

  * * *

  It was a beautiful spot. Pristine. The creek, refreshed and replenished by torrents of life-giving rain, had turned into a river that ran swift and deep. The sun flashed diamond patterns all over the surface. The water appeared sparklingly clean to Amelia’s delighted eyes, with no odour other than freshness. Tall river gums grew on either side of its banks. Their forest-green lent the water its glittering, deep-green colour.

  “Come on,” Marigold urged, much as she did as a child. “It looks great!”

  “Since when have you been so keen on a swim?” Amelia asked.

  “Since I arrived in this bloody back of nowhere. Here, catch!” She withdrew a Moroccan-style print bikini from her beach bag and pitched it towards Amelia. It was one of Amelia’s that had gone missing. For years on end, Marigold had liked to purloin objects that belonged to her sister. Lipstick, scarf, earrings, bangles. Nothing of any real value. Amelia had dismissed it as one of Marigold’s odd little quirks.

  Amelia immediately looked about her. No spreading shrub to duck behind. Where to change?

  “Don’t pretend to be so bloody modest,” Marigold jeered. “You were stark naked this morning.”

  “Anyone would think it was a sin. Turn around.”

  Marigold laughed, but she did what she was told.

  Amelia made short work of changing out of her clothes and into the bikini. She took time to fold her clothes neatly. Under her feet grew hundreds and hundreds of tiny purple wildflowers with silvery-grey leaves. They formed the prettiest ground cover. Crushed, the little flowers gave off an attractive light scent.

  Marigold stood at the edge of the grassy bank like a young woman transfixed. She was staring down into the rippling, flowing water like someone contemplating drowning herself.

  “Don’t jump in, Marigold,” Amelia advised. “There could be fallen branches, hidden stones, and some small rocks. Lower yourself into the water.”

  Marigold turned her fluffy blond head. “Your middle name should be ‘Caution.’”

  “I’d be happy with that. One of us needs to be cautious.”

  “I’m sick and tired of all this!” Marigold suddenly cried. She totally ignored Amelia’s warning. She launched herself into the creek, arms raised, head-first as she used to dive into their home swimming pool.

  Had she truly thought Marigold would take any notice of her? Her own entry into the creek was much less spectacular. Amelia had to sink to the bottom to find the sand, her toes curling into its thickness. The creek was deep, six feet at its borders, deeper towards the middle, but the water was so clear she could see no weed-strewn rocks, no fallen branches, no submerged logs. Warmed by the sun or not, the water on entry hit her as really cold. She surfaced, treading water as she looked up at the trees where birds, parrots from the flashes of brilliant colour, were dancing about in the branches, squawking at the invasion of their territory.

  Pulling the pins from her long hair, Amelia let it coil wetly down her back. The chill was fast wearing off. She felt invigorated.

  “I can swim rings around you,” Marigold yelled at her, a silly taunt from their childhood. She was swimming about in a peculiar fashion that was almost manic.

  Amelia didn’t answer. What was the point? She was enjoying herself. So was Marigold, really, she thought. Marigold swam up to her. “You could get Jimmy if you wanted him,” she said, blinking water out of her eyes. “He’s always been mad for you.”

  “Do shut up. I’m enjoying myself.”

  “Only you don’t want Jimmy, do you? You want Royce. He’s the man for you.”

  Amelia didn’t answer. All her pleasure in being in the water, in pristine bush surroundings, was about to be ruined. “Why do you do this, Marigold?” she groaned.

  Marigold was now floating a few feet away. “Can’t help it! I wish I could stop. I do!” She swam closer, splashing water at Amelia’s face.

  “Why can’t you stop?” Amelia asked. She was slow to anger, yet now she felt a simmering burn. She retaliated, splashing back hard. She was raising twice the volume of creek water, chopping up the glistening surface.

  Angered, Marigold made a dolphin leap, grabbing onto Amelia’s long, wet hair.

  “Stop that. Let go!” Amelia tried to prise Marigold’s fingers off. It was surprisingly difficult.

  “What if I don’t want to let go?” Marigold was spluttering for air, yet she strengthened her hold on Amelia’s wet hair, giving it a painful tug. “You’re such a bitch!” She flailed out at Amelia’s face, making contact.

  Amelia was stunned. “Are you mad?” They had never struck one another in their lives.

  “Could be.” Marigold put a shushing finger to her lips.

  “I don’t think you know what you’re doing.” Amelia said, dazed by Marigold’s action. She needed to put distance between them to scotch any further attempts. She was by far the stronger swimmer. She would swim a good distance down the creek, and then pull herself up onto the bank.

  Striking out freestyle, she powered through the water like in her old days at school and university when she had been part of the winning swim teams. Things seemed to be going to hell with Marigold. It had to be dealt with.

  Even at a good distance away, she could hear Marigold piteous cries. “Melly, Mel
ly! Don’t leave me. There’s something in the water. Some bloody thing. It’s got me by the ankle. Melly, help me!” Marigold’s mouth opened as she gave a frightened scream.

  What now? It couldn’t be the Loch Ness monster. The creek had been safe to swim in for years and years. Marigold craved drama, even as a kid. Nevertheless, she did appear to be floundering. Immediately, Amelia changed course. There was little else she could do but go to Marigold’s rescue. She was such a little thing. Such a tormented little thing. She had probably come into the world that way, spewing affront at doctors, nurses, even her mother.

  * * *

  All hands were needed for the job of rounding up the cattle, the cleanskins who were unused to any form of discipline, and herding them into the yards. It was a dusty, sometimes frantic operation, lassoing the bellowing calves, branding them, castrating the males, and then nicking ears for future identification. Bill Wiseman, Kooralya’s long-time foreman, was busy superintending the operation, with the help of a half-dozen young aboriginal stockmen who knew the country, the animals, the plants, the trees, the seasons better than anyone.

  Bill and his wife had a comfortable bungalow much like Vernon’s, not far from the compound. Bill’s wife, Maeve, ran the station store where the staff could buy just about anything they wanted; clothes, boots, towels, sheets, blankets, camp gear, magazines, books, and so on.

  “You can give Bill a hand.” Although Royce was a magnificent rider and James had his own natural style, Royce had elected to take the Jeep. “I’m going back to the house.”

  “But we’ve only just arrived.” Worriedly, James searched his brother’s face. “Is something wrong?”

  Royce took off his Akubra, running a hand through his thick, dark hair. “I have a bad feeling about leaving the women,” he said. “Amelia in particular. I’ve asked Anthea to keep an eye on things, but it could be asking too much of her. If I have any kind of a sixth sense, it seems to be working now.”

  “God!” James groaned, like a man carrying a great weight. “Want me to come back with you?”

  Royce shook his head. He planted his Akubra back on his head and gave it a good twist. “Bill needs you. I shouldn’t be long. I’ll just check everything is okay.”

  James sighed deeply. “It’s all my fault, isn’t it?”

  Royce laid a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You couldn’t possibly know what you had to know about Marigold. Amelia doesn’t either. She’s been making excuses for Marigold for the past twenty years.”

  “Marigold is four inches high. She’s no match for Amelia.”

  Royce gave him a tense look. “Then you’ve got it wrong.”

  * * *

  Royce parked the Jeep at the very foot of the short flight of stone steps leading onto the broad veranda and then into the entrance hall, something he rarely did. He had barely entered the house when Anthea came rushing into the hallway as though she feared something was amiss.

  “Is Amelia with you?” he asked, his urgent tone matching the expression on his face.

  “She was,” Anthea answered, starting to feel real panic. “Marigold persuaded her to go for a swim. They’ve just left. I wanted to go with them. I said I’d sit on the bank, only Marigold clearly didn’t want me there. Did I do wrong?” Anthea was wringing her hands.

  It wasn’t like Royce to panic about anything, but some big concern was eating away at him.

  “It’s okay,” he said, his tone softening. He was aware of his aunt’s sudden distress. “Don’t worry. I’ll find them.” He turned rapidly on his heel.

  Anthea ran after him. “Marigold would be no match for Amelia under any circumstances, my dear,” she called.

  Royce didn’t turn back. “Jimmy said the same.”

  They were both wrong. Marigold had mental issues.

  * * *

  Amelia was swimming fast towards her sister. She couldn’t just switch off caring about Marigold, no matter how badly Marigold behaved. It would take time, but she was determined to make the break. She would have to speak to their parents about getting help for Marigold. She needed therapy.

  “I’m here. What’s wrong?” she called as she stroked through the clear water.

  “Something under the water,” Marigold gasped in fright. Rivulets of water were running down her small, anxious face.

  “I can’t think what. A fish, maybe.” Having said that, Amelia plunged deep below Marigold to investigate.

  Nothing. Nothing that she could see.

  Next thing she knew, Marigold was coming down on top of her, throwing her body at her, kicking out with both feet. It was as bad as having a rock thrown at her head. Amelia threw herself sideways, trying to rise up for air. Marigold caught hold of her foot, dragging her down again. Amelia’s body shot out signals of alarm. It took ninety seconds to drown. What was going on here? Was Marigold trying to drown her? It wasn’t possible. It had to be some manic game she couldn’t understand. She drew on all her strength to kick free and rise to the surface. Her head completely out of the water, she drew in a shuddering breath. Her whole body was signalling physical and mental distress. It was a mad joke that had gone too far.

  “Amelia!”

  Royce was on the bank. He yelled her name, his voice ringing around the whole area, scattering the birds. She watched him yank off his boots and then he dived right in. He reached her in record time, putting a strong arm around her as if he intended to hold her tight forever.

  It was Marigold’s voice laughing a little wildly behind them. “Feel like a dip too, Royce?”

  “Get out of the water, Marigold,” Royce thundered at her. “Out. Now.”

  “Heck, we were only playing,” Marigold yelled back. “What’s your problem?”

  “Get out or I’ll drag you out,” Royce said.

  Neither Marigold nor Amelia doubted he meant it.

  * * *

  All three of them were on the bank. Amelia lay back motionless, trying to swallow her laboured breath. She needed to settle her nerves. Marigold, seemingly exhausted, was sitting on the sand, a slumped little figure like the wrath of God was about to come down on her. Royce stood over her. A man. A powerful man who clearly didn’t like or trust her.

  Amelia found herself flinching from what had just happened. Marigold hadn’t been playing any game. Some part of Marigold had cracked. Amelia had accepted a lifetime of making excuses for her sister. As a family, they had all made innumerable allowances for Marigold, the sad, little five-year-old who had lost both her parents. Who wouldn’t? Marigold hadn’t been trying to give her a good fright. Yet how could Marigold have such a terrible desire to hurt her? What madness had got the better of her? Lacking a jealous streak, Amelia didn’t fully appreciate how destructive jealousy could be, yet she saw it in the courts, day after day.

  “What did you think you were playing at, Marigold?” she asked on a panting breath. Marigold’s small face was red and moist with tears. She knew she had gone too far. Amelia put out a hand to Royce. He passed her a towel. He was soaking wet, his shirt and jeans clinging to him, but he didn’t appear to notice it.

  “You started it,” Marigold burst out. “You splashed so much water at me I thought I was going to drown.”

  “Don’t talk rubbish,” Royce told her curtly.

  Marigold stared up at him. “It was a game, Royce. We always played games in the pool at home. I would never harm a hair of Melly’s head. She knows that. How could you think I would?”

  She scrabbled up. Royce helped her. She seemed to him like a child who had no real conception of right and wrong, only she was twenty-four. She was not a child younger than five or even seven, when a child was deemed to have reached the age of reason and could differentiate between right and wrong. As a woman of twenty-four, that made Marigold dangerous to others.

  “I’ll take you both back to the house,” he said as though he didn’t want to hear a word out of either of them. “I have to insist you stay in your room, Marigold. Anything you wa
nt can be sent up to you. Don’t attempt to speak to Amelia. I’ve heard your version of what was going on here. I’ll hear Amelia’s. I’ll tell you right now, I’ll believe her story over yours.”

  “Well, you would, wouldn’t you?” Marigold didn’t conceal the effects of long years of resentment. “Why does everyone love Melly? Is it because love and Melly go together? She’s so utterly selfless?”

  “And you feel a powerful jealousy,” said Royce.

  Marigold didn’t look ready to consider that one. “I wasn’t plotting to hurt Melly, Royce,” she said. “I love her.”

  “That’s what you were demonstrating, was it?” Royce said, picking up his discarded riding boots. “Love?” His hair was already starting to dry in deep, thick waves that curled up at the nape. He raked his fingers through it, clearly troubled.

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry, Melly,” Marigold spoke like a severely reprimanded little girl. She put out her hand to take Amelia’s.

  For the first time in their lives, Amelia turned away.

  Chapter 8

  There was no quiet family dinner that night. All mention of the afternoon’s upsetting incident was held back until after Pippa had served coffee. Amelia was feeling a tremendous unease. Jimmy was looking very unhappy.

  Royce, on the other hand, looked formidable, a man on a mission. He was clearly determined to get to the bottom of exactly what had happened at the creek. He hadn’t attempted to get Amelia’s version of events. That would happen soon.

  Back at the house, Marigold had claimed she was ill, yelling at Pippa, who had been sent upstairs to check on her. “Goddammit, I want to see Melly,” Marigold had shouted. “What is this? Am I a prisoner?”

  “Not at all, dear. We’re anxious for you to rest.”