by Jane Corrie
`That isn't true!' gasped Della, now white-faced' with shock. 'Cal wouldn't ...'
`Wouldn't he?' Cora asked, with a positively feline look in her eyes.
Della drew in her breath slowly. He would! and what was more, he had! She went back to the time when she had first met him, and the tense way he had inquired whether she had any romantic attachment; she hadn't been able to understand why he should ask such a question, but now ... What if Cora were right?
Her thoughts were transparently clear to Cora, who gave a twisted smile. `So much for your "year" and being bought out,' she grated. 'It's a -pity I didn't meet you earlier, I could have told you Cal has no intention of giving half of what he considers his property to a complete stranger.'
'I may be a complete stranger to him,' gasped Della indignantly, 'but aren't you forgetting my Uncle Denny?'
Cora shrugged as if this information was of no consequence. 'Cal built this ranch up,' she said a trifle spitefully. 'Your Uncle Denny was content to just be on the map. He got old and Cal took over.' She gave another offhand shrug. 'I suppose it would still have been a going concern, but after Cal took over it became what it is today, the biggest and richest spread in the Tablelands.'
It wasn't easy for Della to think positively at that particular time, but she made a valiant effort. 'All the more reason,' she said slowly as she tried to convince herself of her argument, 'why he should want time to work things out—but even so—. marriage ?'
'I should have thought you'd have worked that one out for yourself,' Cora said testily. 'He couldn't risk leaving you on the market,' she added baldly. 'There would have been plenty of takers. Whatever share Cal gave you in Rimmer's Way, would have made sure of that.'
Della felt sick. She hadn't wanted any part of the property, but Cal Tarn hadn't believed her; he'd left nothing to chance and calmly whisked her to the altar before she had time to work out the motive behind the marriage!
Her eyes smarted and she wished Cora would go. If she had come to make her unhappy then her mission was accomplished. Della didn't want to hear any more, she had heard quite enough.
Glancing back at Cora, Della saw her studying her with her head on one side, reminiscent of a child who has just made a shocking announcement and is waiting to see and enjoy the result. Again she wondered how old Cora was, and this time asked her outright.
'How old are you, Cora?'
Flushing, as if Della had touched a sensitive spot, she replied nonchalantly, 'Eighteen—although I don't look it. I'm quite grown up.'
It wasn't so much a question of how she looked, Della thought, but how she acted.
'I suppose, like Cal, you think I'm just a child.
I don't mind him treating me like that, but I don't intend to take it from anyone else,' she warned Della.
'Then stop saying exactly what you think,' said Della quietly. 'You are, after all, only seeing things from your point of view, and you could be wrong, you know. Personally, I think you are. But giving way to your unhappiness and saying the first thing that comes into your head won't make things any easier, will it? We'll get along a lot better if you drop this belligerent attitude towards me; and I repeat what I said before, you have nothing to fear from me—so why can't we be friends?'
Cora stared at her, then spat out, 'Friends! With Cal's wife? Never! He's mine! He loves me—me, do you hear? If you hadn't turned up we'd have been married within a year, would have been by now, but he's got this thing about my age, thinks I'm too young—he couldn't say that when I'm nineteen, could he? Only you came along and he married you because he had to—so it doesn't matter now. And as for your saying I needn't worry—I'll believe that the day you leave!'
Della was left staring at the closed door Cora had slammed behind her on her highly emotional exit. Feeling as if she had just battled her way through a force ten gale, she sat down and tried to sort out fact from fiction. She had a nasty feeling the two were closely aligned where Cora was concerned.
Accepting that she was a very emotional girl, it did not alter the fact that Cal Tarn had treated her very badly. He could not have been unaware of her feelings. He must, mused Della, be a very hard man. As for his casual, 'You two will be seeing a lot of each other,' how could he? He quite obviously expected Cora to still be around.
Della gasped as the implication hit her. Of course! Really, she was getting as bad as Coral He did mean to abide by the agreement I Cora had let her imagination run riot there. If she had only stopped to think as Della had suggested earlier, she would have come to the same conclusion.
A great flood of relief surged through Della, and she mentally apologised to Cal for doubting his motives. Whatever else he was, he was a maxi of his word, and Cora ought to have known that too, only jealousy had somewhat marred her thinking.
When Cora called for her the following morning Della was extremely pleased to see her, for it meant she had come to the same conclusions as Della, and Della thought the least said on that subject, the soonest mended, and greeted her with a smile.
Dressed in tight-fitting jeans and cotton shirt, with a white silk kerchief knotted round her neck, more for show than for practical use, Della suspected, and a khaki bush hat perched on top of her blonde hair now swept back into a ponytail style, she looked a wonderful advertisement for the popular magazines advocating life in the outback.
Della was also in jeans and cotton top, plus a deep jungle-type hat that Alice had advised her to buy as ample protection from the sun. It had a strap that ensured its remaining in position no matter what exertions the wearer undertook.
'Cal left it to me as to where we go,' Cora said casually. 'I think we'll head for the western edge, it'll be cooler than the southern rim. I've got Luis to put us up some damper. Got all you need?'
Della wasn't sure what she would need, but hoped she had thought of everything. By the sound of things they were going to be out for some time. She felt a slight thrill pass through her. At last she was going to see something of Rimmer's Way—there just remained the question of a mount for her, but she was sure Cora had taken that in hand, too.
They collected their food from Luis, who gave Cora a thoughtful look before remarking a little censoriously to her, 'Keep away from the Tic-tac Slope. Cal's rounding up some strays out there.'
Cora's brows lifted haughtily. 'I know that,' she replied. 'Cal told me yesterday. I thought we ought to get a good view from the west slope.'
Luis' eyes narrowed, and then he shrugged. 'Suit yourself, as usual,' he muttered.
Following Cora out of the homestead a few minutes later, Della was a little thoughtful herself. Luis did not care for Cora, that much was evident. If Cora did marry Cal, Della couldn't see a very happy household resulting from that marriage —at least, from the domestic staff's point of view.
Leading the way to the stables, Cora echoed Della's thoughts. 'He wouldn't dare talk to me like that if Cal was around,' she muttered. 'But Cal won't hear a word against him. Been with him too long, I guess.'
'Has he always done the housework and cooking?' queried Della. 'I mean, he's not old, is he?'
Cora frowned as if her thoughts had been elsewhere, then said offhandedly, 'He wouldn't know one end of a horse from the other. City bred, wandered on to the ranch when his car ran out of gas. Thinks Cal saved his life; I suppose he did, too—they say he was in a pretty bad state, been wandering for some time before he stumbled on to Rimmer's Way. He just stayed on; but he'd better start minding his p's and q's,' she said darkly. 'Cal only lets him stay because he looks after things and can cook.'
That was not the impression Della had received from Cal earlier, and it struck her that Cora's point of view was a singularly personal one.
The stables lay behind the homestead and like the rest of the property were so well kept that they looked a new addition. A saddling up yard fronted them, and as the girls approached Della thought she saw a slight movement on the outer edge of the yard, and a few minutes later the boy she had seen yester
day rode out of the stables at a gallop, not pausing
to look back or acknowledge that he had even seen them.
Cora watched him go with a glint in her eye. 'There goes another of Cal's charities,' she said spitefully.
Della glanced at her, and not liking the implication, said quietly, 'Another? You're not putting Luis in that category, are you?' It did occur to Della that Cora meant her as well. 'Luis works for his keep, that's hardly charity, Cora.'
Turning her amber eyes full on Della, Cora drawled, 'Champion of the underprivileged, are you? How come you're standing up for Luis? Been nice to you, has he?'
Della's hands clenched; Cora was reverting to shock tactics. She would only stop, Della thought, when she found her words did not produce the required effect, so she changed the subject by asking a question of her own. 'Who is the boy, Cora? Luis called him David, I believe.'
A slight frown indicated that Cora was a little disappointed Della had not taken up her earlier challenge, and with a toss of her head that sent her blonde hair swishing, she walked on ahead and into the stables saying, 'David Marsh; he's the son of the man who rustled some of Cal's cattle last year,' and flinging Della a meaning look, she added, 'Now taking that boy on was charity, to my way of thinking. He might turn out like his father—a no-good cattle thief!'
Feeling a stab of pity for the boy, Della could now understand his defensive attitude; it was not easy to live a background like that down. All the same, she mused, it did rather depend on the company you kept, and Cora for one was not going to let him forget.
'But how did he come to live at Rimmer's Way?' she asked.
Busy choosing a saddle for Della, Cora took her time in answering, and the impatience she felt at the questions asked was shown in her voice. 'Father died in gaol. Cal found the boy trying to run their clapped-out smallholding on his own. His mother was either dead, or had flown the coop years ago.'
Della spoke her thoughts aloud. 'Perhaps Cal felt responsible—I mean, his father dying in prison like that.'
Casting her another impatient look, Cora answered dryly, 'He wasn't serving a term for rustling —at least, not that time. He didn't confine his activities to livestock, you know. Cal had seen the boy earlier when he ran his stolen stock to earth at Marsh's place. When he heard the man was dead he tried to find the boy a home, but there were no takers, no one wanted to know, so he brought him here.'
'I call that kindness, not charity,' Della said quietly.
Cora shrugged as if to say she was welcome to her own opinion, and asked, 'How much riding have you done?'
'A reasonable amount,' replied Della. 'You won't have to worry about my falling off.'
She was slightly underrating her ability, for she was an accomplished horsewoman. When taking up riding some years ago, she had found she had a natural skill, a skill that might not have been brought to the surface had not Joyce's father run a riding stable, and since she was fourteen Della had spent most of her free time at the stables with Joyce.
Joyce, a year younger than Della, was now climbing the ladder to show jumping success, and Della might have followed her, only she had a living to earn. After school had come college, then her job at the textile works, and consequently John.
A loud snort came from one of the looseboxes on their right, and Della glanced over towards it and met the liquid eyes of the magnificent black stallion that had demanded their attention.
'Why, hallo there,' she said, walking over to the box and fondling the velvet nose pushed out so invitingly.
Looking from the horse to Della, Cora said suddenly, 'Do you think you could handle him?'
Della's eyes gleamed. 'Could I really have him?' she asked.
'I don't see why not,' replied Cora carefully. 'Of course, he is rather special. Cal usually keeps him for racing, he's a real goer.'
As she said this she opened the box and led the stallion out, then prepared to saddle it.
Della began to have qualms about the advisability of taking one of Cal's specials. 'Er ... do you think I should?' she said hesitantly. 'Won't Cal ...?'
By now Cora had got the saddle over the horse, and she looked back at Della. 'If we don't take him now, he'll really play up—you said you could handle him, remember?'
It was a little late to wish she'd asked a few more questions before making that statement, Della thought. Although she hadn't been given much time for second thoughts. Cora was also right in what she had said about the horse playing up; getting him back into his stall was not going to be easy if he decided he wasn't going back. She sighed. It was done now, and although Cora had mistaken her reluctance in riding him for fear that she couldn't handle him, it was a bit late to point out that it was Cal Della had been afraid of annoying.
Cora had left her mount, a small grey, tethered to the verandah rail, and accompanied by a frisky Romano that made Della bring into use all the skill at her command to control, she waited while Cora mounted, then started out across the paddocks on the tour of the ranch.
With the wind pushing her hair back and the balmy breezes caressing her face, Della forgot her earlier qualms and set out to enjoy herself.
After a few experimental little tricks to test her
capability, Romano decided she was worthy of his obedience and acted the perfect gentleman, allowing her to keep a tight rein on his soft mouth and look about her.
The paddocks seemed to stretch for miles, some empty, some with cattle in, but all was peaceful; and every now and again, Della would catch sight of several horsemen intent on their business. Once or twice she would have liked to have asked questions, but Cora flew on ahead as if the devil were behind her, and Della, keeping to a steady pace, had no intention of entering into a race, a race that Romano would have won hands down, in spite of the game spirit of Cora's little mare
As she watched her receding into the distance, she suspected Cora was in the habit of running her horses to a standstill. A good rider, but an impetuous one; like the girl herself. She badly needed stability, and Della wondered about her parents and sighed; Cora had been spoilt, that much was obvious. Perhaps like so many other parents, they had just given up and let fate take its course.
By now they were out into the open plains, and Della, keeping her pace, went on thinking about Cora. Cal Tarn could handle her, and it was a great pity, she thought, that he hadn't married her. She frowned—well, of course he still could, but Della could well see his point in thinking Cora was too young for marriage.
Unless Cora pulled herself together, and at least
tried to act with some sense of proportion, Della couldn't see any hope for her even in a year's time.
She wondered if anyone had ever taken the trouble to point this out to her—not that the advice would be taken in a grateful manner. Cora, being Cora, would take it as a personal affront, and slash back at the well-meaning adviser. Even so, mused Della, it would be worth a try at that.
Furious as Cora would no doubt be, some of the words were bound to fall on fertile ground. If she wanted Cal as badly as Della thought she did, she would listen, in spite of her fury.
Glancing ahead, Della saw that Cora had slowed her mount, and now sat waiting for her on the top of a slight incline in the distance.
When Della reached her, she said impatiently, `Come on! We'll miss most of the muster at this rate.' She pointed to a clump of gum trees in the far distance. 'That's where we're heading. If you can't keep my pace, there's a slight track just below those trees. Follow it down, we can see all along the valley from there.'
A little stung by the insolence in her voice, Della pointed out mildly, 'We're not in the paddocks now, Cora, and I'm not risking Romano breaking a leg.' She narrrowed her eyes and studied the terrain ahead of them, bare in places, with numerous small stones and, Della suspected, potholes. 'You shouldn't either,' she advised her. `I'd take it easy if I were you.'
Cora's answer was a furious dig into the mare's side spurring her into a fast gallop, and all Della
caught before she vanished down the other side of the incline was, 'Don't you dare tell me how to ride my horse '
Sighing, Della carefully guided Romano down the slope in the wake of the dust left by Cora's storming departure.
CHAPTER FIVE
Coin was nowhere in sight when Della arrived at the clump of trees a little while later. She looked for the track Cora had told her about, and eventually found it running below the side of the slope the trees grew on, and disappearing round a bend in the hill.
Gently prodding Romano, Della eased him down the incline on to the track, and followed its winding path. She looked down, and let out a gasp of sheer delight. As Cora had said, the valley was laid out before her, and narrowing her eyes against the glare of the sun, she could see a little of the activity taking place below.
Della never knew what made her glance back to the track at that particular time. Perhaps it was Romano's reluctance to go forward; the track had suddenly petered out and a narrow and extremely hazardous ledge followed the curve of the hill. Frowning, she wondered if she had taken the wrong track. It was only just wide enough for horse and rider. She shook her head; she was certain there had been no other track.
This would be Cora's idea of testing her horsemanship. Well, thought Della, this was one challenge she would accept.
'Steady, boy,' she murmured coaxingly to Romano, 'Slowly does it V
They were about half-way along the ledge when it happened. Romano's ears went back and his head shot up. Stopping dead, he backed with frantic haste from something in his path. At first, Della was too busy saving them both from an untimely end as she fought to control the terrified stallion, then when he was under control she stared with fascinated horror at the small but deadly black snake that lay curled up in the middle of the track.
After a second or so she pulled herself together. They couldn't go on—so they had to go back, which meant backing all the way, there was no room to turn round.
