by Anne Hampson
To her surprise his eyes lit with humour and his lips quivered for a moment. Carelessly he leant against a stone pillar up which was growing a scarlet bougainvillaea.
'You should be introduced to some of your employees, eh?' His eyes roved towards the cattle run where men were riding about in a slow leisurely way. 'You've set me a poser, Miss Beresford.' His gaze seemed to be drawn to Cherry all of a sudden and Kate automatically transferred her own gaze. Cherry's face was a study, but her thoughts were unreadable.
'Set you a poser?' Kate echoed, frowning. 'I don't think I understand?'
'No?' To her astonishment his shoulders actually shook with mirth. 'Miss Beresford, you don't happen to have any employees. Does that clarify the position for you?' Lazy sarcasm characterized the tones, and the blue eyes seemed dull all at once. At the corners of these eyes sun wrinkles closed over the tiny lines of paler skin, which were never visible when he was outdoors, narrowing his gaze against the glare.
'No employees?' she retorted. 'What are those men, then?'
'Those? They're my stockriders.'
'Your stockriders?' For some reason she glanced at Cherry again, to discover, much to her amazement, that she was nodding her head thoughtfully as her eyes widened in perception. A sudden tingling spread through Kate's body. Intruding memory brought back the vagueness of Mr. Waring. 'Wh-what are you t-talking about? I mean, this is High Creek Downs.'
'Certainly.'
'Then—then—' Kate broke off, chilled now as by a douche of ice-cold water. 'Your farm—station—is called Cunya River Downs. This is my property.' This last sentence was uttered with the utmost difficulty, simply because all confidence had deserted her. She looked across at Lin, who was listening to the interchange with interest, but also with a sort of growing resignation.
'Cunya River Downs and High Greek Downs are both my properties, Miss Beresford. Your holding goes by the name of High Creek. It's a tiny place—a narrow strip of land—running between my two stations. David Gleaves managed to eke out a meagre living—a living for one,' he added with emphasis. 'He kept a couple of cows and a pig. His fowls kept him in eggs and a roast now and then—'
'But you were managing it,' struck in Lin hotly. 'A place such as you describe wouldn't require any managing!'
His blue eyes looked her over with cool insolence. Clearly the interruption vexed him.
'David Gleaves was ninety-six when he died,' was all he vouchsafed by way of explanation, but as Kate watched him and Cherry exchange glances she saw at once that some sort of knowledge had been grasped by Cherry.
'I c-can't believe such a mistake could possibly have been made,' stammered Kate, finding her voice at last and automatically looking round as if she would seek to discover some providential hole in the ground through which she would gratefully disappear. 'My solicitor… he mentioned High Creek Downs. I distinctly remember that he did.'
'He would have my address. I did stress the size of your holding in my letter—'
'You never said it was a narrow strip of land,' inter-posed Lin indignantly. 'You merely suggested it would be more difficult to run than stations of other dimensions. We thought it was because it was large—as large as Belgium—' Too late she broke off. Mark Copeland had thrown back his head and his laugh echoed through the garden.
'Where did you get that information?' he asked on recovering from his mirth.
'It seems,' broke in Cherry quietly, 'that this mistake has come about through the similarity of the names of your property and that of Kate—Miss Beresford. Her solicitor was very old—' She turned to Kate for verification of this, but Kate's mouth was too dry for speech. A narrow strip of land… and she and her friends expecting one of the largest stations in the whole of the Outback! It was too humiliating, and she lowered her head, unable to bear either the amusement on Mark Copeland's face or the dawning pity on the faces of her friends. 'This Mr. Waring was obviously muddled, confusing the names of the properties, although how he managed to estimate that your lands extended to the size of Belgium will remain a mystery.' She stopped and looked up into his bronzed face. 'I expect they do, though?' A shade of a smile possessed his lips, that was all, and Cherry continued, explaining that, right from the beginning, the names must have been confused, as Kate had never even suspected that her holding was so minute.
'It would have been better had you thought to mention the size of the property,' she ended, still in the same placid tones.
'Naturally I concluded that this had been done by Miss Beresford's solicitor. However, I did extend a warning, which has been disregarded. I did also refer to the holding as High Creek, and not High Creek Downs.'
'We believed that to be a shortening of the name.' Lin flashed him a glowering look which merely brought that shade of a smile back to his lips.
'If you're ready,' he said, his glance embracing them all, 'I'll direct you to the entrance to High Creek.'
High Creek! Kate felt she never wanted to hear that name again—not as long as she lived!
'Our bags are upstairs,' Cherry began, then flushed as Mark Copeland's brows lifted.
'Kate did say that Sophia showed us our rooms,' snapped Lin, 'so there's no need to appear so surprised !'
Slowly he turned his head; the slanting rays of the sun caught the bleached front of his hair and it looked almost blond. His glance was designed to put Lin in her place, which it did, and she looked away, her colour rising. Kate on the other hand was so pale that she actually looked ill. The news had come as a shock, as great a shock as the news of her inheriting a property which she believed to be so vast that her brain boggled when she tried to picture the dimensions. Everything was so clear now; the things which had appeared odd but had been carelessly ignored, the strange behaviour of Sophia and Ferdie. Flooding in, making Kate squirm and wish again she could sink right through the ground, was the memory of her insistence that her friends accept salaries equal to what they had been earning at school. Salaries! They would be lucky if they were able to eat!
'I don't know why Sophia didn't say something,' Kate mumbled, looking steadfastly at her hands. 'She showed us the bedrooms.' A small silence followed and she fluttered a glance at Mark, noting the sternness of his face now, as he stood there, so tall and lean, confidence simply oozing from him.
'You asked her to show you the rooms?' he queried, and Kate nodded. 'Then she probably concluded that you were staying here as my guests for tonight. Sophia never makes things difficult for herself. She just does as people tell her and then leaves them to sort things out later. Ferdie's the same,' he added as if anticipating a question from one or other of the girls.
'If—if you'll have our luggage brought down—?' Kate broke off, rising to her feet. Never in her wildest imaginings could she have seen herself in so humiliating a position as this. To have entered Mark Copeland's house, and demanded to be shown bedrooms; to have ordered their luggage to be taken up… to have requested Mark to introduce her to other of her employees. How he must be laughing at her! She could imagine him, at one or other of the functions which these people organized for their entertainment, recounting the story. She could see and hear the uproarious laughter. She was among the elite, Lin had confidently declared. All these rich graziers would be falling over themselves to be friends with her. 'And if—if you'll direct us to—to my—property—' Tears threatened, because of the humiliation and disappointment and the anxiety as to how they were going to fare.
She lowered her eyes swiftly, aware of the man above her—his perceptive glance, measuring and at the same time tinged with amusement. He would not see her tears, she decided fiercely, and kept her head averted as she walked unsteadily to the car, followed by her two friends.
From the shrubbery Ferdie happened to appear; a lift of Mark Copeland's finger brought him over and an order was given. The man entered the house and brought out the suitcases, which he and Lin loaded into the back of the car. Mark Copeland was giving Kate the directions and inwardly she gave a tiny gasp.
That place behind the belt of coolibah trees! They had seen it as they came along; no one had commented on it, but Kate remembered thinking it was a shack of some sort.
'I'll drive,' Lin offered, her face taut and grim. 'The sooner we get clear of this place the better I shall like it!' Mark Copeland was walking away, but he turned as the car started and Kate saw the amusement on his face. Hateful creature! He might not have known all at the beginning, but he did know about the mistake later, when he received her letter. He was no fool; he had guessed that somehow the two properties had become confused. But he had allowed her to come to his house, just for the pleasure of seeing her make an idiot of herself. It seemed incredible; she would never have believed anyone could be so despicable.
'I wonder what Kate's place is like?' Cherry was saying as they drove along the avenue of trees towards the entrance through which they had come less than an hour ago. 'The house might be nice enough.' And Kate had not the courage to tell her that it was no more than a shack.
'Never,' said Lin in rasping tones, 'have I met such a beastly man! He knew of that mistake; I expect you've both guessed that.'
'Yes, I certainly have,' answered Kate in quivering tones. 'He must have a most perverted sense of humour to play a trick like that on me.'
'You did insist on coming out,' from Cherry in mild and quiet tones. 'He had tried to stop you and so he probably concluded it would be useless to persist—as it would have been, because we were all determined to come here.'
'Are you making excuses for that—rat?' exclaimed Lin furiously. 'There isn't any excuse! He could have written and mentioned the size of the property!'
'He explained about that omission,' responded Cherry from the back of the car where she was sitting with the luggage piled up at the side of her and at her feet. 'I believe that he guessed about the mistake too late. After all, Kate's final letter, telling him when we were to be expected and that she hoped he would be at High Creek Downs to meet us, was sent off only a couple of days before our departure from England.'
'That's true,' admitted Kate. 'You wanted me to send it off sooner, but I said he'd have plenty of warning because we were taking our time over the latter part of the journey. If only I'd taken your advice, Cherry, and sent it sooner. He might then have written informing me that I'd made a mistake.'
'There isn't any excuse for the conduct of that man,' reiterated Lin savagely. 'He could have been there today, waiting for us. He could have then told us of our mistake and saved us making such damned fools of ourselves! He stayed away from the homestead on purpose, coming back only on seeing the car standing there.'
'He might not have been able to see the car,' began Cherry, when she was immediately interrupted.
'He could see it because the sun was shining on the windows. I noticed and thought that it must be visible for miles.' Suddenly the engine stalled, and stopped. 'What the devil's wrong with this thing?' furiously demanded Lin of no one in particular. 'Surely it's not going to play up at this particular time! It would just be the end!' Viciously she tugged at the starter, but there was no response.
'Petrol,' said Cherry briefly, and both Lin and Kate gave audible gasps.
'We're out of petrol?' from Kate incredulously. 'No, I don't believe it! This couldn't happen on top of all the rest!'
'We covered a lot of miles when we took those wrong roads,' was Cherry's reminder. 'I knew we were running pretty low when we arrived here. I just hoped we'd manage to get as far as High Creek, seeing that it isn't many miles from here. Three, Mr. Copeland said—' She shrugged resignedly. 'We'll have to ask him for some petrol—'
'I couldn't,' said Kate in choking accents. 'Haven't we any at all? I mean, if we drained the cans… ?'
'We haven't any at all, Kate.'
'Another gallon would have done it.' Turning her head, Kate saw the Boss of High Creek Downs strolling leisurely towards the stationary car.
'Something wrong?' he inquired affably, his eyes flickering over Kate's crimson face. She ground her teeth and looked away.
'I'm afraid we're out of petrol,' Cherry informed him, and explained about the mistakes they had made. 'All our reserve went,' she continued, exhibiting neither the embarrassment of Kate nor the fury of Lin. Her smile was friendly and persuasive; Mark Copeland's blue eyes took on a curious expression. 'If you would be so obliging as to supply us with sufficient petrol to get to High Creek?'
'It will be a pleasure,' came the surprising answer after a short unfathomable silence. 'I'll get someone to bring it to you.'
CHAPTER THREE
'This is the first I knew of your having a way with men!' Lin's voice, sarcastic and short, broke into the small silence that had ensued when, having been supplied with ample petrol, they were back on the rough boulder-strewn track along which they had travelled on the final lap of their long journey to High Creek Downs. 'However,' she added grudgingly, 'I suppose we have you to thank for dealing so successfully with our friend back there. Had I asked him for petrol it's ten to one he'd have refused, because I just could not have been civil to the brute!'
Cherry said nothing to that; her eyes were dreamy and once or twice she turned her head, looking back at the stately homestead standing on its small rise and appearing more mellowed and friendly than ever in the dying rays of the sun.
Kate said, after a while, her voice no more than a husky whisper:
'I'm so terribly sorry. I don't know what to say—I mean, your giving up your jobs to come out here with me, expecting it to be all ease and luxury…' She allowed her voice to falter away into silence as something rose to block her throat. Secretly she had been determined to share her good fortune with her friends. Everything she would have they would have too. But now… 'We haven't even got enough for the fares back to England,' she cried, shaking her head in a sort of angry despair. 'Why did I inherit the place at all? Why didn't David Gleaves leave it to charity, like he left his money—' She stopped, her tear-filmed eyes widening as the thought occurred to her, a thought which like a lightning flash strengthened to a conviction. 'He never had any money.'
'I had already guessed that,' from Cherry, who instantly went on to say emphatically that this situation in which they found themselves was not Kate's fault in any way whatsoever. 'You're not going to keep on blaming yourself, so put the matter from you. We persuaded you not to sell, when you would have sold had it been left to you. Lin and I wanted to come out here, and the fact that it hasn't come up to expectations must be far more disappointing to you than to us. However, we're in this thing together and I suggest we settle down before even beginning to make any decisions.'
'But we can't live!' cried Kate. 'You heard what Mark Copeland said: it kept one man—one.'
'And with help from Mr. Copeland,' murmured Cherry almost to herself.
'Help?' echoed Lin.
'It's obvious that this—managing business was just a cover. Mark Copeland must have been very kind to that old man. It wouldn't surprise me if he actually kept him in food himself.'
A stunned silence followed these words of Cherry's. It was broken at last by a scoffing comment from Kate that whatever other virtues might be possessed by Mark Copeland kindness was certainly not one of them. He had proved that by deliberately allowing Kate to make a fool of herself.
'Good lord!' suddenly ejaculated Lin as she turned her head. 'That's not it!' They had been driving towards the creek, along which grew a thick belt of red river gums and coolibah trees, and through these the shack could just be discerned. 'Kate, are you sure you've given me the correct instructions? The fork back there—I think we should have taken the left-hand one.'
'No, this is it,' whispered Kate, her spirits about as low as they could be. 'This is where Mark Copeland directed me to. I saw it on the way here,' she admitted, apologetically, 'and when he told me where my place was I knew that this was it.' She ended on a little sob, which she tried vainly to choke back. Lin said, her voice softening miraculously:
'Sorry about the sud
den exclamation, Kate. But it does appear rather unprepossessing from here. It might improve with acquaintance, but even if it doesn't we shall get along somehow. And as Cherry's just said, we're in this together.' The track went straight towards the river bed, crossed by a bridge over which Lin drove cautiously, for it did look ready to give up, and collapse into the stream bed below. Once over the bridge and past the grove of golden wattles the house could be clearly seen in all its stark nakedness, a hermitage indeed, unadorned by flowers or vines, or any other embellishments, either natural or man-made. Silently Lin drew up and switched the engine off. The three girls sat there, eyes turned towards the house where old David Gleaves had died, at the age of ninety-six.
'How… awful,' quivered Kate at last. 'What have we done! How are we to manage—for I'm sure Mark Copeland won't help us any more.'
'He hasn't helped us at all yet,' from Lin tautly as she slid from the drive seat. 'And who wants his help anyway?' The other two joined her on a half circle of ground fronting the house, and they stood there quietly taking it all in. At closer quarters it proved to be a rambling place, one-storied with a rotting verandah running all along the front and round the sides. Windows did not fit, the front door gaped at the bottom owing to the sagging of the step beneath it. Paint was peeling everywhere and inside the windows lace curtains hung like limp grey cobwebs broken and abandoned.
'Kind,' murmured Kate, turning her head towards Cherry who was standing beside her. 'You said Mark Copeland was kind to David Gleaves…?' Significantly she tailed off, her own misfortune forgotten for one fleeting moment as she pictured the life which that old man must have led.
'I shouldn't be ready to judge, not right away,' advised Cherry in her mild and unraised tones. 'Old people are strange, especially people as old as this uncle of yours. It could be that he wouldn't allow any improvements to be made.'
