by Lakes, Lynde
He’d done some checking on her today and learned that besides having the admiration of the Auckland constable she was a black belt in karate. “That’s what I thought until you said—”
“Please, let me finish.”
He rather enjoyed the exasperation that played in and out of her professional tone.
“To work effectively, I need all the facts. And your promise you won’t hold back anything during the rest of this investigation.”
“I don’t know what you need. But I’ll answer any questions you have. Fair enough?”
His throat constricted. Why the hell am I practically begging her to stay when I’m uncomfortable having a woman in the house, especially this pakeha woman?
“So I’ll have to pry every little piece of information out of you. Is that it?” Her voice was sweet as kiwi fruit, yet as cutting as his sharpest knife.
“You seem to have a burr under your saddle, Miss Conners. What else is bothering you?”
She flushed. “Nothing. Your cooperation is all I want.”
He shook his head. This whole situation was his fault. When he’d talked with her associate, Chuck Burns, and volunteered room and board, he had believed T. J. Conners to be a man. He was definitely wrong about that. He marveled that this woman didn’t seem a bit apprehensive about moving in with a stranger. “You’ve got it. Now do I call you T. J. or Miss Conners?”
“I prefer Toni.”
He toyed with his mug. Now what was bugging her? His simple question seemed to increase rather than ease her irritation, and he had the distinct feeling an undercurrent rode beneath their words. His and hers alike.
He scratched his head, totally baffled. This townie should look out of place on the station, but she didn’t; and it irked him. Her jeans and rust colored sweater were practical enough for a ranch stay. He hadn’t missed that her sweater and boots were almost the color of the thick hair that brushed her shoulders when she gestured with her head.
She studied him, too. Rad shifted under her scrutiny. Although it unnerved him, he liked the direct way she looked at him. “Okay, Toni. Where do we go from here?”
“Tell me about your land. I’ve begun a trace of the ownership chain on your place and others in the area, but some clarification on your part would speed things.”
Rad felt irritation rising again. “What the devil do deeds and transfers have to do with rustling?”
“Based on my other case, I’ve have reason to believe they have everything to do with it.”
Rad clenched his fist. She was on a wild-goose chase. If Constable Reilly had done his job and investigated the rustling he wouldn’t need her. “What do you mean?”
“There have been a series of suspicious land transfers all over the area.”
Rad rubbed his chin. He hoped she knew what she was doing. She looked young to be running any company, let alone an international agency. “It would seem more sensible to start where the sheep disappeared.”
“Next on my agenda. I’d like to see the site of the disappearance tomorrow. And I’d like to give the sheep protection. I’ve already ordered weightless, wool-covered monitoring devices from Investigative Engineering to place on the sheep. I expect them to arrive by special-delivery tomorrow.”
“I’m sure I should be impressed, but what protects my flock tonight?”
When her face flushed, he knew he’d gotten to her. He should’ve been ashamed, but he enjoyed pushing this woman’s buttons. He lifted his chin smugly. If she didn’t like the heat, she shouldn’t have come into his kitchen.
She remained silent for a moment. “I can’t stop the rustling, Rad. I hope you understand that. I can only find out who is doing it. Then it’ll be up to you and the police to end it. At this point, you should double your guard, and pray.”
“Easy for you to say. If I lose another hundred head of sheep I won’t be able to make the balloon payment on the station.”
“Balloon payment?” The reproach in her voice cut deep. Undoubtedly she wondered why an intelligent rancher would risk his property with dangerous financing. He got up and went to the kitchen window. Evening twilight shadows threatened to swallow his property. “Come here. I want to show you something.” His mouth felt dry.
She came close and stared out where he was looking. Though none of her body touched his, he felt her softness, her electricity. Her perfume wafted over him. It smelled like fresh cut roses.
Without looking at her, he pointed out at the flat land and rolling hills beyond. A diffusion of sunlight and dust bathed everything in a soft orange-rust glow. It was a struggle to speak. “This whole valley, further than you can see, was once Maori land. Because of Maori beliefs, they’d never sell it. But, one by one, they were tricked into mortgaging it to greedy foreigners.”
“What do Maori beliefs have to do with the balloon payment?”
He walked slowly back to the table and dropped down into a chair. She followed and sat next to him. He had an urge to put his arm around her. He clasped his hands tightly before him.
“My grandmother was a Maori. Does that surprise you?”
“Not at all.” She tilted her head. Her appraising scrutiny made him squirm. “The furnishings of your home show a strong Maori influence, and there are native carvings everywhere.”
“You don’t miss much, do you?”
“I try not to.”
Rad felt a strong uncharacteristic compulsion to explain his lineage. “My features come from my English grandfather, but my feelings about my heritage and my love of the land were inherited from my grandmother. That passion gave me the strength to build this sheep station from nothing.” And now you’ve added another kind of passion to addle my brain.
“So you’ve always been a rancher?”
“More or less. Except for the time I spent in England attending Canterbury and Cambridge. After that, I slaved for five years, eighteen hours a day, running other people’s stations. Finally, on my thirty-third birthday, by saving every penny and making wise investments I had enough money.”
Toni leaned slightly forward, stirring the air with her essence. “To do what?”
“Buy property. I exist for the land.” Mentioning his birthday was stupid. It was a milestone, but life’s turning points couldn’t mean anything to this young woman who hadn’t lived enough years to appreciate the significance.
“I see.”
“Do you?” He couldn’t keep the skepticism out of his voice.
“I’m not the enemy, Mr. Murdoch. I’m trying very hard to understand the situation.”
Rad knew she wasn’t the enemy, but she was as dangerous. He wasn’t certain he could make her understand, but for a reason he didn’t comprehend, he wanted to try. “This land, and many more hectares, once belonged to my family. Yet I was forced to buy it.” He couldn’t control his exasperation even though he knew it was unreasonable. “Years ago, after someone stabbed my grandfather in an alley, Grandma was duped into signing a document.”
“Rad, I’m sorry about your grandfather.”
Rad paused and studied Toni’s eyes. Her tone was more than polite sympathy. She really cared. That surprised him. He found himself warming to her emotionally in spite of himself. The knot in his stomach eased a bit.
“The document mortgaged the land. Grandma thought she’d signed a personal note for two thousand dollars. The man who loaned it to her convinced her she needed it to bury Grandpa European-style. In her devastated frame of mind it was easy to persuade her that a Maori tangi and burial wasn’t fitting for a pakeha.”
“Taking advantage of a grieving widow is despicable.”
Her soft voice sent a warm sensation surging through him. Her eye—
contact was so direct, her eyes so green. For a moment he forgot what he was saying.
Then the anger returned. “The man who did this was a lying, conniving dog! Even though Grandma spoke fluent English she couldn’t read it. She found out later that the amount of the note was $200,000, secure
d by the property. She’d been tricked, but didn’t know what to do about it. She had no money. And when she couldn’t pay, the man who held the mortgage subdivided the land and sold it. After the new owners surveyed the land they insisted Grandma leave her home.”
“Couldn’t someone help her?” Toni’s gentle voice soothed Rad more than he thought possible.
“The Maori government liaison was no help. His interest revolved around job security and promotion. The man who tricked Grandma had many powerful friends in top positions.”
“So she left?”
“Not my tupuna! Even though I was only five, I remember the day as if it were unfolding before me now. When we heard the crash through our front gate, Grandma grabbed her rifle and went out on the porch. I followed in her shadow. Trucks and cars screeched to a halt so close that I saw the meanness on the men’s white faces. As they got out, they yelled insults and profanity at Grandma. I hung onto her skirt. I was so frightened I wet my pants.”
She touched his hand. Her empathy gave him the courage to continue.
“The men kept coming toward us. Grandma aimed her rifle at them and shouted ‘get off my property.’ I’ll never forget the sound of the shot that came from the invaders. Then she crumbled at my feet.”
Toni closed her eyes briefly; tears glistened on her lashes.
Rad’s hands clenched. Even after all these years, the vision brought a rush of moisture to his eyes as well. He blinked and glanced out the window. The picture of his tupuna motioning for him to come close to her lips was etched permanently into his mind. Her whispered words had kept him awake many nights. “The pakehas won the battle for the land, but don’t let them win your soul.”
The lump in his throat swelled. For a moment he thought he wouldn’t be able to finish, but after a deep breath he regained control. “After trying in vain to get results through the courts Grandma’s tribe drew straws to see who would avenge her death. No one knew who got the honor. The man with the short straw killed, one by one, each of the twelve pakeha men involved.”
Rad knew it was irrational; and he hated himself for it, but he needed to see the shock in Toni’s eyes. For a crazy moment he saw her as one of them. Possibly the descendent of one of the white devils who had stole his tupuna’s land. He paused, waiting, but there was no shock reflected on her face, only understanding. He rubbed his finger around the rim of his coffee mug. “Anyway, buying the land was the only way to get it back.”
Her expression changed to one of puzzlement. “And your only option was a balloon payment?”
Atua, he’d told her too much. What had compelled him to tell her more than she needed to know? It was her eyes. They seemed to draw his soul out of him, luring him to share things he preferred to keep to himself. He had to steel himself against those eyes and stick to the facts.
“I didn’t have enough cash for the whole two hundred and eighty hectares offered at the auction. So I bid on a part of it. Fortunately, I was the highest bidder. While paying for the land, I mentioned to the auctioneer that I would like to buy more. He must have mentioned it to the seller. Three months later, the seller’s representative contacted me and made an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
Toni’s eyes widened, and Rad found himself mesmerized by the intensity he saw there.
“You never met the seller?”
He shook his head. “Everything was handled through the representative and a lawyer.”
“The seller’s name had to be on the documents.” She leaned closer. He smelled the fresh cut roses again.
“The mortgagee was Orthodox Bell Tower Corporation.”
Toni stood. Her face glowed with excitement.
“What is it?” His pulse quickened.
“My other case involved a Bell Corporation.” She began to pace as she talked. “If they’re the same company, you’re dealing with swindlers.”
“But they gave me a good deal with ridiculously low interest-only payments. I knew when I sold this quarter’s harvested wool I’d have double the money needed to pay off the mortgage.”
“Then rustlers started hitting your herd before you could shear all the wool.” She stopped pacing and stared at him. “Perhaps the mortgage holder doesn’t want you to pay off the loan. What if you were seduced into the deal so he could keep your money and get the land back as well? It’s possible the mortgage holder is your sheep thief.”
Why was he even listening to her? This pakeha didn’t have any facts to back up her theories, and she might as well recognize it. “But the corporation is a religious group.”
“So for humanitarian reasons they’re giving you a ridiculously low interest rate? It doesn’t wash, Rad.”
Warmth crawled up his neck. Damn her. The results of his actions left him without justification, making him feel like a bloody idiot. He tightened his jaw. Give me strength.
She met his gaze. “Tomorrow, I’ll look into this so-called religious corporation. Naming it a godly entity doesn’t make it so.”
Chapter Four
Rad sat clasping his empty coffee cup long after Toni left the room. His head ached from the worry. He was locked into a situation beyond his control and stuck with a mere slip of a woman as his only hope. The beautiful and annoying pakeha was eager and enthusiastic, and she made a disturbing kind of sense. Damn! He slammed his fist down on the table. He couldn’t lose the land. It was a matter of honor and a testimonial to his love for his grandmother.
Thinking of his tupuna in this instance increased his tention. Because of her, his family clung tightly to their heritage. Most other European-Maori mixed families had let the old language go. Grandma had not let that happen. She’d put an additional stipulation on him. Because of his mixed heritage, she’d insisted he must learn to speak English well, too, because he was a Maori-pakeha and had to honor both parts of his heritage. She’d felt he practiced enough English in school and while playing with other children, and had never spoken English to him and insisted that he speak only Maori when conversing with family. Other than conversing with Grandpa, who had spoken little Maori, Grandma had not approved of speaking English except in conversations with whites.
She had encouraged and nourished his interest in the old rituals and customs. Tupuna would tell him the names of his ancestors and make him memorize them. She had always said, “Never forget where you came from.” Even after her death, he retained his thirst for the perfection of the language and a deeper knowledge of the culture. He’d taken classes at the Maori Cultural Center. As director of the Center, his mom encouraged him to attend every course. It helped him reach inside and find the Maori part of himself. He regretted his tupuna hadn’t lived long enough to see how Maori he was.
He pulled a dog-eared photo from his wallet. His throat constricted. Tupuna’s smile was wide and trusting with the corners of her eyes puckered in friendly creases. She was a majestic woman, tall, lean with no bosom or hips. In the picture her hair was pulled back in a severe knot. His happiest images didn’t match the picture. Those images instead were of the times when he was small enough to sit in her lap. He remembered his bedtimes in particular. Tupuna would loosen the knot of hair at the back of her head and comb it loose. The thick, glossy mane cascaded over her shoulders to her waist. She tickled him and wriggled her wide nose, laughing heartily and freely. She told him Maori legends, and sang ancient songs in a haunting, incredibly beautiful, deep voice. Tupuna had always smelled like day-old cut roses. He couldn’t smell roses without thinking of her. To him, the fragrance symbolized deep, enduring love.
His heart brimmed full with her memory. He saw her as a figure of serenity and whimsical self-possession, a woman of strength, purpose, and determination. She had never given in on important issues, and he couldn’t either.
He had to keep the land! Her memory demanded it.
Why did remembering his grandmother suddenly make him think of Toni? Certainly, she didn’t have dark Maori features. He was amazed how clearly he could envision everything a
bout Toni after only seeing her a couple of times. He recalled how her nose crinkled slightly and how she held herself erect when she was displeased. When she smiled, every part of her face and eyes glowed. Then it hit him. It wasn’t how she looked; it was her demeanor that was so like his tupuna.
Thinking about Toni warmed his heart and twisted his gut. He hoped he could survive her stay. He got up, and after filling his cup with steaming coffee, he went to the window and stared out at the dark stretch of his station. The old house, barns and fences had existed on the land when he bought the place, but he’d built the new sprawling house with his own hands. Now he had to work at least ten hours a day to keep the station functioning. He’d put his all into the property in the last three years: his sweat, his heart, his soul.
He squinted at the sudden glow coming from behind the hill. Big rig headlights! The sheep! He ran for the door.
****
Toni heard Rad shouting orders. “Kori wawe! Ahea taua tae, tatari hei taku tohu!”
She rushed to the window. Although Rad spoke in Maori, she understood him by the men’s response. In minutes, Rad’s men were armed with rifles and loaded into four pickup trucks. Toni belted her shoulder holster, grabbed a bullet-proof vest and her jacket. She struggled into her wrap as she ran.
By the time Rad roared the engine to action she’d climbed in. Before his foreman, Tukaha, followed her inside the cab, he glanced at Rad questioningly. When his boss showed no response the older man hoisted himself onto the seat next to her. His quick side-slide forced Toni’s hips against Rad’s. He glanced down at her. “It’s the sheep.”
“I know.” She tucked a wisp of her hair behind her ear.
“It might be dangerous.”
“Like told you, danger is often part of my job.” She managed to keep her voice composed, but inside she felt charged with excitement.
Rad thrust the truck into gear. When he gripped the gear shift, the dim light of the dashboard highlighted his arm; the tensed sinews and tendons looked like coarse ropes. Ropes to trip her up if she wasn’t careful.
