Outback Princess

by Lexxie Couper

  “That must’ve been tough.”

  Annie shook her head. “Hard to miss what you never had.” She looked toward the doorway. “But I think your mother made me miss what could have been.”

  Hunter couldn’t stop himself from responding to Annie’s wistful face. He walked over and hugged her. She accepted the embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I’m glad you and Dylan fucked up the details.”

  Annie laughed. “I’m glad we did too.”

  He pulled away and resisted the urge to kiss her again. He’d already taken too many liberties, come on far too strong. While he was no stranger to one-night hookups, Annie wasn’t that kind of woman. For one, she’d come here to meet Dylan, and secondly, she was staying in his family’s home for two weeks.

  Hunter knew all the way to his gut that it wasn’t going to be long enough.

  He needed to get in touch with Dylan.

  Chapter 3

  Annie carried a Vegemite sandwich wrapped in a paper towel to the shed for Hunter. She’d panicked a bit when she’d come to the kitchen for breakfast this morning and discovered he wasn’t there. She was typically a fairly self-reliant person, but she felt like a fish out of water in Australia. Having Hunter around made things easier, less intimidating.

  Hazel had put her at ease almost instantly at the breakfast table, entertaining her with funny stories about life at Farpoint. At least, Annie thought they were meant to be humorous. Mrs. Sullivan’s Australian accent was rather thick and she tended to use some colorful expressions. Annie was still trying to piece out exactly what “dry as a dead dingo’s donger” meant. She certainly had her suspicions, but still. It had been a bit shocking to hear, coming from the older woman’s lips. She’d have to use that line with Monet one night. Her girlfriend would love it.

  She glanced at the sandwich and wondered how anyone could voluntarily eat anything so vile. Dylan had mailed her some Vegemite a month ago. She’d taken one bite and spit the shit out, passing the jar on to Monet, who for some strange reason loved the stuff. Not wanting to be rude to Hunter’s mother during her first breakfast in Oz, she’d forced herself to take a bite of the stuff on toast and swallow. Hazel had taken great pleasure in her discomfiture then complimented her for “hanging in there”, swearing the flavor would grow on her, but Annie had no intentions of making a third attempt.

  She entered a shed made almost entirely of corrugated iron. It was a far cry from the fancy wooden barns she’d seen during her travels in America. She’d mistakenly referred to it as a stable last night over dinner and Hunter had set her right once more. Stable, shed. Ranch, station. Cowboy, stockman. Potato, potahto. She’d never keep it all straight. Despite her exhaustion over dinner, it had been a comfortable, fun meal. Hazel and Hunter were hospitable and gracious.

  Annie followed the sound of male voices toward the back wall. Hazel told her a cow was giving birth and Hunter had come down to help. She’d learned over breakfast that Hunter was less of a stockman than he’d led her to believe. According to Hazel, Dylan did more of the hands-on work around the property, while Hunter handled the business end. Where Dylan had a talent for buying stock—according to Hazel, he had a brilliant eye for picking prize cattle—Hunter spent most of his time in negotiations with banks and other buyers. Annie idly wondered why Hunter would keep that information from her.

  She peered around the corner of a stall and found Hunter and another man kneeling by the laboring cow, who appeared to be in serious distress. The poor creature was breathing hard and every now and then she gave a low bellow. There was a slight odor in the air. Annie tried to place it.

  Blood? Ick.

  “Is she okay?”

  Hunter glanced over his shoulder. He was wearing long plastic gloves that were covered in something shiny and gooey-looking. “The calf’s a breech.”

  Annie knew the term, but wasn’t sure what it meant in regards to cattle. “Can you do anything to help her?”

  Hunter nodded. “Yeah. I’m trying. Do me a favor, Annie, go sit by her head and try to comfort her. We need to get the calf turned so he comes out. She’s been laboring too long.”

  Annie placed the sandwich on a nearby stool then slowly dropped to her knees by the cow’s head. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do. She’d grown up with a couple of cats, and once, for her tenth birthday, her father had given her a toy poodle that she’d loved dearly. Reaching out, she stroked the cow’s neck. It was a huge animal in comparison to Annie’s small house pets or even Dylan’s Mutt, but the cow acknowledged her touch, her chocolate-brown gaze taking in Annie’s face.

  She began to murmur soothing sounds as Hunter and the other hand conferred on what to do.

  “Hush,” she said softly. “It’ll be okay.” At least she thought so—until she watched Hunter put his hand inside the cow.

  “Holy fuck.”

  Hunter glanced up at her exclamation, grimacing as he continued to reach around inside the cow. He was elbow-deep. Annie felt lightheaded.

  “Sorry,” he said through clenched teeth. “This calf’s not going to come out without some help. This would be easier to do if the mother would stand, but she’s worn out. That’s why we need to move quickly.”

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Hunter continued to work and Annie swallowed against the bile gathering in her throat. The sight of blood had always made her queasy, but this…

  A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Hunter’s face. “I’m trying to get the calf’s front legs facing forward. If I can do that, she may be able to push the babe out herself.”

  “She’s having another contraction,” the other man said. “You think we need to consider pulling him?”

  “Not yet,” Hunter said. “That’s the last resort. I’d like to give her a chance to deliver him without the strap.”

  “Strap?” Annie whispered.

  “It’s not as dire as it sounds,” the other man assured her. “If Hunter can’t get the calf in the right position, we put a nylon strap around both of the calf’s legs and pull a little. Help things along.”

  Hunter continued whatever he was doing inside the cow. Annie patted the mother again, murmuring more words of comfort. She suspected her comments weren’t just keeping the mother calm. Hunter seemed to take solace in them as well. He gave her a grateful smile as he tried to move the calf.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Annie.”

  Annie imagined her sisters’ faces if they could see her now. She was in a barn in Australia, petting a cow, while Hunter had his hand somewhere Annie would never dream of sticking her own. What a day.

  “Okay. It’s coming.” Hunter removed his arm and Annie leaned closer, trying to get a better look. She’d never seen anything born in her life—not an animal or a baby—and she was absolutely fascinated, despite the blood.

  Soon, legs appeared, then a nose, a head. The cow continued to strain until finally, amazingly, the calf emerged.

  “Get me straw, Annie,” Hunter said as he reached for a towel. Annie grabbed a handful of hay.

  Hunter took a single piece. “Just one will work.” He tickled the calf’s nostrils as it started to breathe on its own.

  Annie gasped when the tiny creature began to move. He was okay. The calf was alive. She’d never seen anything so incredible in her life. “It’s a cow!”

  Hunter glanced at her and grinned. “A male cow.”

  “A boy,” Annie said with wonder. “We’ll have to go out and buy blue.”

  The other hand gave her a funny look. “Where are you from, love?”

  Hunter chuckled at the man’s question. “Marc Thompson, this is Annie Prince, from America. New York.”

  “New York?” Marc asked. “Isn’t that where Dylan went?”

  Annie nodded but didn’t add more. She wasn’t sure how much the hands on Farpoint knew about her and Dylan, didn’t know how much Hunter wanted to share with them.

  Marc chuckled, his blue eyes shining with a light Annie rec
ognized as mischief. “There’s no bloody way I’d take off halfway ’round the world for a woman. Even if she was as pretty as Dylan reckoned.”

  Annie’s belly knotted a little at the hand’s words.

  Hunter let out a low sound, and to Annie’s ears it sounded like a growl. “That’s enough, Thomo.”

  Marc grinned, dropping Annie a cheeky wink. “Although I gotta admit, the accent’s bloody sexy. Say something else for me, Annie Prince.”

  Annie blinked, unsure how to react. Australian men unsettled her at times, their sense of humor hard to get a handle on. She suspected Marc was teasing her in a friendly way—at least the easy way he smiled at her indicated such—but she wasn’t sure. The hands on Farpoint really didn’t know who she was. Maybe he was flirting with her?

  She cleared her throat, flicked Hunter a quick look and then gave the waiting cowboy a smile. “Wanna get some cawfee from Starrbucks, Marc?” she asked, turning on her most New York accent.

  Marc threw back his head and laughed, a relaxed sound that echoed around the shed. Annie noticed the hint of ink peeking from under the open collar of his shirt, but what the tat was, she couldn’t tell.

  “Oh, that does it for me, baby.” He grinned at her. “Any chance you wanna crawl into my bed tonight and talk in that sexy accent some more?”

  “Settle down, Thompson,” Hunter said. “You’ll give us Aussie blokes a bad name.”

  Marc flashed another grin at Annie. “Me? Nah. Besides, I’m not the typical Aussie bloke.”

  Hunter snorted. “That’s for certain.” He shook his head. “Do you carry on like this when Dylan’s around?”

  Marc burst out laughing again. “Hell no.”

  Hunter groaned. “Then shut the hell up now and pretend I’m the boss out here for a while, will you? I’m the one who had my hands elbow-deep in cow, you know.”

  Marc tapped the brim of his hat with a finger, dropping Annie another wink. “Can do, boss.”

  Annie found herself smiling. She couldn’t help it. The whole tête-à-tête was so bizarrely unexpected and fun.

  Marc pointed to the calf. “You ever seen a calf born?”

  Annie shook her head. “Not a lot of cows in Manhattan.”

  “Well, we appreciate your help, even if you are a Yank,” Marc teased. “In fact, I think maybe we should mark the occasion somehow, since it’s your first time.” Marc looked at Hunter. “How about we call this little fella Prince in honor of our assistant?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Annie insisted.

  Hunter winked at her. “You did plenty. And I think that’s a great idea, Marc.” Hunter bent over and placed his hand on the newborn calf’s nose. “I hereby dub you, Prince.”

  Annie felt her throat tighten, touched by the sweet gesture.

  Hunter walked over to her. “I’d help you up, but…”

  He lifted his slimy, glove-covered hands and she crinkled her nose. “No thanks.” She stood and followed him to a large sink behind the stable. They took turns washing their hands.

  “So what did you think of that?” Hunter asked.

  “It was the most fascinating, scary, exciting thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t wait to write about it.”

  Hunter handed her a towel. “You’re right. It is all those things. I’d forgotten.”

  “How could you forget that?”

  Hunter shrugged. “Seeing a calf born isn’t a new thing for me. Happens pretty often around here. I guess I’ve let the wonder of the moment slip away. You just gave it back to me.”

  Annie smiled, pleased. Hunter was clearly born to the right place, the right time. It was a concept she’d considered a lot lately. She’d never felt like she fit in her family, her home. Annie wished there was someplace where she could feel a sense of belonging. She envied Hunter that. He belonged on Farpoint Creek.

  “Hey, boss,” Marc called from the shed. “I think we’ve got a problem.”

  Annie’s heart dropped. “Prince.”

  They rushed back into the stable. The mother had risen and was standing in a corner, away from her new baby.

  “She’s rejecting it,” Hunter said.

  “What’s that mean?”

  Hunter shrugged. “Just what it sounds like.”

  Marc was in the process of cleaning the calf. “Ordinarily the mother will do this, but she’s not feeling too kindly toward the little thing right now.”

  Hunter sighed. “Dylan would push this issue, right?”

  Marc nodded. “I can tie her up, pen her in with Prince, but she’s pretty anxious right now. I’d hate to see her hurt the calf.”

  Hunter was quiet for a few minutes as he watched the mother. “Get a bottle, Marc. We can feed Prince that way until the mother calms down a bit.”

  Marc’s face cleared and Annie knew he approved of Hunter’s decision.

  “Is this normal?” she asked.

  Hunter grasped her hand, tugging her close enough that he could wrap his arm around her shoulders. She’d never been with a man who held her hand, hugged and kissed her so often. It was as if he couldn’t keep his hands off her. Annie liked it. A lot.

  “It’s not unheard of in difficult births. Or even easy ones, for that matter. There are ways to get the mother to accept the baby, but I think we’ll give them both a rest for right now.”

  Marc came back with a large bottle. Hunter handed it to Annie. “You want to feed Prince while Marc and I get some clean straw for that stall? Our little calf and his mother are going to stay in here for a few days.”

  Annie took the bottle and looked at the newborn calf. “Um. Okay. Sure.” She sat next to the baby and coaxed him to suck on the bottle.

  Hunter ruffled Annie’s hair. “You’re a born jillaroo.”

  She snorted. “Did you just make that word up?”

  Hunter shook his head. “Nope. It’s a real one. Means you were born to work on a station. What you Americans call a ranch hand. But a girl one. A jackaroo is a bloke. A jillaroo is…well, you get the drift.”

  Hunter and Marc left her alone in the stable with Prince. As the calf suckled, Annie sighed contentedly. She could see the appeal of this lifestyle. It was peaceful at Farpoint. No horns blaring, people yelling, construction work. No paparazzi following her, cameras flashing, phones ringing. Nothing but quiet, blissful silence.

  She stroked the calf’s head. “You’ll be okay,” she murmured softly. “Your mommy’s just tired. She’s still here. She won’t leave you forever.” Annie swallowed hard against the lump forming in her throat. “And if she does, you’ll be okay because I’ll take care of you. I know what it’s like to lose a mother. I won’t let you feel lonely, okay, Prince?”

  Hunter stood at the back door of the equipment shed and listened to Annie’s promise. She’d mentioned her mother’s desertion, acted like the event was nothing, no big deal. He saw through that act now. Annie felt her mother’s rejection deeply. Hunter longed to go to her, but he didn’t think she’d thank him for eavesdropping.

  A slight movement by one of the front stalls caught his attention. His mum’s gaze captured his and he could tell by the upset look on her face, she’d heard Annie too.

  She jerked her head to the right, indicating she wanted to talk to him. Hunter nodded silently then walked around the outside of the shed, not wanting to disturb Annie. His mother met him at the front doors, beside the main water tank.

  “Dylan called.”

  Hunter glanced toward the house. “Is he still on the phone?”

  “No. He rang while you were delivering the calf. I told him Annie was here and safe. Told him not to worry because you were taking good care of her.”

  Hunter thought his mother’s tone was almost hopeful, but he dismissed it as wishful thinking on his part. Hazel wouldn’t condone him trying to steal his brother’s gal.

  “Shit. I was hoping to speak to him.”

  Hazel nodded. “I told him you’d ring later.”

  “Is he headed back?”

&nbs
p; Hazel shook her head. “No. Airline lost his luggage. He’s staying there until they find it.”

  Hunter rubbed his eyes wearily. Resisting Annie would be a lot easier when Dylan was back. At least…he hoped it would be.

  Annie walked out of the shed, covering her mouth with a yawn neither he nor his mother missed.

  “You working Annie too hard today, Hunter? Poor girl hasn’t even recovered from her trip and you’ve got her pulling calves in labor and delivery.”

  Annie gave him a teasing grin. “He’s a taskmaster, Hazel. A regular slave driver.”

  Hunter crossed his arms and feigned annoyance. “Great. Typical of Dylan to head across the pond and bloody well leave me here outnumbered and surrounded by sheilas who think they’re funny.”

  Hazel laughed. “Drop it, boyo. Sheila? When was the last time anyone in this century used the term ‘sheila’? I think you’re bunging on an act for our guest here.” She wrapped her arm around Annie’s shoulders. “The best thing for you is a quick lunch and then a nap. It’s going to take you a few days to get your internal clock sorted. After you wake up, you can help me in the kitchen. I’m baking a cake for the Country Women’s Association. We’re meeting tonight for a potluck dinner.”

  “Country Women?” Annie asked.

  Hazel nodded. “It’s a meeting of all the wives who live at Farpoint.”

  “It’s an excuse to eat too much, drink a lot of wine and gossip,” Hunter clarified.

  Annie’s face brightened. “Ooo…wine. That sounds great.”

  “You’re welcome to come with me. You could include it in that article you’re writing about us.” Hazel had been far too pleased and willing to help when she’d learned about Annie’s series on Farpoint. If there was one thing his mum was proud of, it was her home. The idea of an American magazine featuring a story about them thrilled her to no end.

  “I’d love to go. If you’re certain I won’t be imposing.”

  “Not at all, my dear. We’d love to have you. In fact, our schoolteacher, Amy, will be over the moon to meet you. Though I fear she’ll pepper you with a thousand and two questions about New York. That girl is America-mad.” Hazel turned her toward the house and the two of them began to walk away.