by Jane Corrie
Alice sighed, and sat down on one of the chairs, and patting the other one next to her, said gently, 'Come and sit down, Della.'
In spite of her annoyance Della was amused. Alice was a year younger than she was, and her action had been that of a teacher taking a reluctant pupil to task.
'Look,' said Alice, her grey eyes firmly meeting Della's sceptical brown ones, 'you just don't understand how it is out here. To cattlemen like Cal, land is all they care about.'
Here Della interjected with a dry, 'Thank you!'
Alice shook her head impatiently, making her brown curls bounce. 'I know it sounds bad, but it isn't really, Della. It's his living, and his home, in fact, everything! When it was known your uncle left you a half-share in the ranch, we knew Cal would marry you—it was the logical thing to do.'
This produced another dry, 'Thank you ! ' from Della, and a grin from Alice.
'Honestly! From your reactions anyone would think you were being married off to a fat balding
man, instead of that lovely chunk of masculinity. There's plenty wishing they were in your shoes, I can tell you—me for one! sighed Alice. Catching hold of Della's hand, she went on earnestly, 'He'll be good to you, Della—and just you wait and see. I'll give you three months, and you'll be walking around as dewy-eyed as the rest of us, only you'll have more cause—if you know what I mean,' she added meaningly.
Della's eyes opened a fraction wider, and she felt a tiny shock pass through her. She was beginning to understand about the importance of the land out there, and why Cal Tarn had proposed so quickly; but for them to think she was ready to fall into his arms at the drop of a hat was more than she was prepared to take. The sooner they knew the truth, the better, she thought.
'All right, Alice, you've convinced me,' she said airily. 'In any case, it's only for a year, so I suppose I shouldn't grumble.'
She was rewarded by a quick look of amazement from Alice. 'A year? Did Cal say that?' she said bewilderedly.
Della nodded complacently. 'Till he gets things sorted out,' she said happily. 'He seems determined to be fair about everything—and I must say I think it's very good of him, considering Uncle Denny had to take a back seat for years, and Cal had to carry on alone.'
Alice seemed to be having trouble coming to the understanding that the marriage would be in name only, and dissolved after a year. Her brow creased, and she was about to say something, then changed her mind. Plainly she was extremely puzzled. At last she said a trifle weakly, 'Well, I guess he knows what he's doing.'
Della began to feel a lot happier about the whole thing, and she smiled at Alice. 'So you see, dear, I'll not be requiring a trousseau,' she said gently. 'However,' she added, 'I still need a few things for ranch wear, so what say we do some shopping now?'
Alice's mental excursions could do with a rest, Della thought mischievously, as she watched her make a vain attempt to pull herself together and agree to the shopping expedition.
Later the girls did a tour of the local shops, and Della bought two pairs of jeans and several cotton tops, feeling a trifle mean at Alice's despondent glance towards a window displaying a gorgeous wedding dress.
While they drank coffee at a café afterwards, Alice quizzed Della on what she would wear for the wedding, adding soberly, 'It's a bit soon after your uncle's death, isn't it, so I suppose it will have to be a quiet affair. I don't think Cal's asked many people.'
Della nodded slowly. 'I think I'll wear my pink linen suit,' she said gravely, then gave a quick gasp. 'The funeral I Oh dear, I've nothing suitable for the funeral, Alice! We shall have to go back and find something. How could I have forgotten the funeral!' she cried miserably. 'I told you I didn't know whether I was on my head or my heels—and it's all Cal Tarn's fault!'
Alice soothingly reminded her that under the circumstances she was bearing up exceedingly well. 'If I'd had to put up with the shocks you've had since you landed, I'd have been ga-ga by now,' she commented dryly.
Della did not say so, but she had a feeling it wouldn't be too long before she was in that state herself, unless things eased up.
Eventually she found a dress suitable for the funeral. A long-sleeved black dress, plain but dignified, which would serve as a mark of respect to her uncle.
They were on the way back to the hotel when Della remembered something else, something she had been curious about, but wasn't sure how to approach the subject with Alice. However, she needn't have worried. Alice was a born gossip and pleased to supply any information.
'Cal courting?' she said with raised brows. 'It's the first I've heard of it, if he is.'
'Are you sure there's no one?' persisted Della. 'I rather gathered there was someone. Oh,' she said hastily, 'he didn't actually say so—I mean, he couldn't, could he? not after proposing to me—but all the same I have a feeling ...'
Alice shook her head firmly. 'There's no one else,
Della, I'm certain. Why, there's nothing that man does that isn't commented on. He's top man around these parts and if there was anyone, I would know about it.' She frowned. 'If you've heard anything, it's probably Cora Waites they're talking about. She lives on the adjoining ranch, and is a right little madam. I believe she spends a lot of time at Rimmer's Way, but I'm sure there's nothing there, not where Cal's concerned anyway. If anyone's doing the running it would be Cora Waites.' She grinned at Della. 'Well, she's been pipped at the post, as you might say, so don't you go worrying about that.'
The words brought a sharp reminder to Della of her own thinking not so very long ago. Cora was an also-ran too. Della couldn't help feeling sorry for the girl, although in her case all was not lost. If Cal Tarn loved her, he could still marry her when the year was up.
Della shrugged. She didn't think she would ever understand the cold, logical way Cal Tarn had put the value of land above all else. But as Alice had said, Rimmer's Way came first with him; and if that were so, Della doubly pitied the girl who loved him.
CHAPTER THREE
WEDNESDAY turned out to be a very warm, torrid day, and Della sat forlornly in the hotel lounge while she waited for Cal to collect her and take her straight to the church for the funeral service.
In spite of the friendliness of everyone around her, she felt lost and unhappy. Had she but known it she was suffering from the after-effects of shock. Too much had happened in too short a time, but Della only knew she was miserable and if given the chance would have boarded the next ship out of Sydney, back to England.
Whatever else had happened to her, she knew now she was over John. He no longer held attraction for her, and in an odd way she felt sorry for him. From what he had said, she gathered his wife was a jealous and very possessive woman—as indeed she had cause to be, Della thought, thinking that she could not have been unaware of her husband's attachment to herself—or the reason he had suddenly dropped Della and married her.
She sighed; in a way his attitude had been the same as Cal Tarn's, only John had wanted promotion whereas Cal Tarn was a cattleman and wanted land, but it all came down to the same thing.
Sentiment didn't enter into it—or at least, it hadn't with John, until he realised the price he was going to pay for his ambitions, and decided it just wasn't worth it. Would Cal Tarn ever feel like that? she wondered as she saw his tall form striding towards her, and had to admit it was highly unlikely; the Cal Tarns of this world knew exactly what they wanted, and what was more, made sure they got it.
The church was overflowing with folk who had come to pay their last respects to Della's Uncle Denny, and it served as a little balm to her lowered spirits.
Walking beside Cal's erect figure after the service, Della felt many curious glances rest on her and guessed their thoughts were on the wedding the following day.
Now that they were outside the church she was soon engulfed by friends of her uncle wanting to shake hands with her and give her their condolences. Many, she noticed, wore the same style of clothing as adopted by Cal—khaki shirts and drill trousers, a
nd highly polished boots, and nearly all either holding or wearing the broad-brimmed stetson hat.
Della was not quite sure when she became aware of the girl standing a little behind Cal, as if ready to move forward by his side at the first given opportunity, but she had a distinct feeling the girl had 'been studying her for quite a while.
She was about Della's height, but that was where the comparison ended. She was quite lovely, and
her corn-coloured hair was worn high on her head. Her bright red trouser suit stood out harshly against the sombre gathering, and Della was a little shocked at her choice of dress on such an occasion. It was almost, mused Della, as if the girl had been passing by and had decided to join the assembly. Then her hand was shaken by yet another friend of her uncle's and she was soon engrossed in conversation and forgot the other girl.
During all this time, Cal stood tall and straight beside Della, and she was very much aware of his presence and grateful for his support, for that, she felt, was the reason why he had remained so close to her side the whole time, for Alice and her family, the only people Della knew, had stood apart on the outskirts of the gathering, giving the people who had not yet met Della a chance of making her acquaintance.
Soon the gathering dispersed with calls of 'See you, Cal,' and 'Right pleased to make your acquaintance, miss,' to Della.
The girl who had caught Della's eye a little earlier now came forward and laid claim to Cal's arm, asking, 'When are you going back, Cal?'
Staring at the girl, he replied laconically, 'No use waiting for me, Cora. You'll have to return as you came.' He looked back at Della. 'This is Cora, Della. You two will be seeing a lot of each other in the future.'
The girl barely touched Della's outstretched
hand, and dismissing the introduction with an al-. most insolent, 'Hi,' she looked back at Cal, her pink-painted lips making a soft moan of annoyance. 'I told Jim not to wait for me,' she said pettishly.
Della wondered if she had imagined the fact that there had been an underlined meaning in Cal's drawled 'No use waiting for me' bit. Was it his way of telling Cora she would have to stay in the background for a year? For this was the girl Alice had told her about, and seeing her, Della could well understand her capturing Cal Tarn's affections. Hardened as he was, he was still human, and Cora Waites had all that it took to round up even Cal Tarn. No—not quite all, Della mused. She didn't have Rimmer's Way, did she? For the first time she realised just how much Rimmer's Way meant to Cal—if he was willing to put the property before his feelings for Cora Waites ... Della was now able to understand, if not condone, Cora's flippant acknowledgement of her earlier.
Cal's deep voice cut into her musings. 'Well, you'd better look sharpish in catching him, hadn't you?' he replied to Cora, 'Off with you, then.'
Cora's face turned a dull pink and her amber coloured eyes rested on Della for a second. Her thoughts were obvious and she might as well have said the words, 'You've got lumbered with her, I suppose'.
Della spoke up quickly. 'Cal, if you want to go back to the ranch, I'm sure Mr Dody will give me a lift back to town.'
Cal looked down at Della, and there was something in that look that made Della wish she had held her tongue. 'We've things to discuss, haven't we?' he said softly.
It was Della's turn to blush—the wedding! and she had forgotten all about it!
Turning away with a swift movement, Cora ran towards a group of men standing by their cars. The action was reminiscent of a child who had been refused a treat, and Della couldn't help wondering just how old Cora was. She looked adult, but her behaviour bordered on childishness.
Cal took Della back to the hotel; and on the way back he gave her the time the ceremony would be held the following day, after which, he commented dryly, he would take her to Rimmer's Way. He seemed almost apologetic about the fact that there would be no celebration party following the marriage, but Della could hardly see the point of him even mentioning the fact. It was not as if it were a real marriage, and in any case it was too near her uncle's death to celebrate anything, but his extraordinary comments did give her cause for thought.
Did he really think she had expected a party? She bit her lower lip as she gazed out at the passing scenery. If only she could make him understand there was no need to go through with the marriage
at all, and she made one more attempt to make him see reason, but she needn't have bothered. Her quick, 'Cal, honestly—I don't think ...' was cut off in midstream by a grim, 'As I was saying, I shall take you back to Rimmer's Way. You'll find plenty to keep you occupied, and Cora will be around to keep you company,' making it quite plain he was determined to go through with the marriage, and any further attempt of Della's to back out would be met by a stone wall of resistance.
Her gaze left his grim-faced one and went back to the road ahead. She couldn't really blame him for digging his heels in; in a town that size and being as well known as he was, to back down now would constitute defeat, and in his vocabulary such a word did not exist. Della bit her lower lip. She had only herself to blame; she should have stuck firm to her original answer.
After a little while, she began to cheer up. A year wasn't a long time really, and she would be seeing Rimmer's Way. All she had to do was look on it as a year's holiday. She thought of Cora and a little frown creased her forehead. If only Alice were nearer, for she had a nagging suspicion she was going to need a friend in the not too distant future, and try as she might, Della couldn't see Cora fitting. into this category!
For Della, the wedding took place in an aura of make-believe. She answered when instructed, and felt a small start of surprise when the tall well- dressed stranger by her side leaned forward and lightly kissed her cheek at the close of the ceremony.
Her wide brown eyes met the enigmatical grey ones of Cal, and although she realised it was only a token gesture on his part, it made her feel uneasy, more so as he patted her arm and said quietly, 'Well done, Della,' making her feel like a small child that had learnt its lesson well.
As Alice had said, it was a small gathering, and only the necessary amount of people were present— Alice, because of her friendship with Della, and three of the town's dignitaries, two of whom acted as witnesses.
While Alice hugged her and enthused on the life she was about to lead, Della's eyes were on the man she had just promised to 'love and obey'.
It would have helped a little, she mused, if he had worn the now familiar khaki wear, but this tall, bronzed man in a well-cut dark worsted suit, with pale blue shirt and dark matching tie, rather intimidated her, and brought home sharply the fact that She knew nothing about him, except that he was her uncle's partner—and now her husband! She blinked rapidly to dispel these disturbing thoughts and concentrated on what Alice was saying.
'I do wish you were nearer,' she said. 'Although twenty miles isn't all that far, I suppose. You can always pick up the phone and have a natter if you're lonely, and of course,' she grinned wickedly at Della, 'invite me to stay a while.'
Della's eyes went back to Cal, standing in the middle of the rest of the company, which he completely dwarfed, and she noticed the way he appeared to be receiving congratulations—at least, she couldn't think of any other reason why people should be slapping him on the back. Her lips twisted wryly; apparently, like Alice, they were unaware of the conditions of the marriage, or rather as Alice had been, until Della had enlightened her— and yet—Della's eyes came back to rest on Alice, now smiling encouragingly at her.
'Don't worry, it'll be all right,' she whispered confidentially.
Della went cold. If Alice meant what she thought she meant—she swallowed; of course she didn't! She really had to pull herself together, things were awkward enough without letting her imagination run riot.
When Cal announced airily that they had better be on their way Della, to her utter horror, found herself blushing, and feeling quite unable to look back at him, turned to collect her bag that she had left on a side chair. As she bent to
pick it up she prayed her colour would return to normal before she faced him again.
At the thought of the interpretation he would put on her heightened colour, her wish was granted, and as she straightened up her face was as pale as alabaster; so much so that Cal took her arm and asked quickly, 'Are you all right?'
Della nodded mutely, and keeping a firm hold on her arm he guided her to the door, remarking to all and sundry as they made their exit, 'You'll excuse us, I'm sure,' and escorted her to his car.
On the way out to Rimmer's Way, Cal told Della a little of its past history, of how her uncle had bought the land many years ago, and how with improved water irrigation and bores, it had trebled its income .within a matter of years, and was now the finest station in the Central Tablelands.
'Trying desperately to relax in the seat beside him, Della heard all he said and wished unhappily she could share at least a little of his enthusiasm, but her mind was too full of past events, and the unusual feel of a heavy gold ring on her third finger.
She sat back and closed her eyes and listened to the deep voice of the man beside her. It was a nice voice, she thought, and she noticed how the very mention of the name Rimmer's Way brought the soft intonations out. She sighed inwardly; she wasn't sure about the girl yet, but she was sure about Cal's feelings for Rimmer's Way. He loved every inch of the property, and considering it ran into a six-figure acreage, it was a lot of property.
Della was content to listen. She didn't know enough to ask questions, in any case, she was too unsure of herself to even attempt to say anything. Cal was now telling her of the homestead arrangements.
'Luis does the cooking and the cleaning about the place, so there's no need for you to feel you ought to help out—in fact, I'd rather you didn't. He's as touchy as a housewife where the cleaning's con cerned, he'd only take your offers of help as interference—same goes with the kitchen area, so don't say I didn't warn you. Do you ride?' he shot out at her.
