The Wild One

by Janet Gover

Quinn shook her head. She did not want to go there. She looked around for Dan. He was filling a bathtub with water from the tanker they’d been given by the fire service. Justin and Carrie had decided to head back to Justin’s place, after bedding down the two stock horses for the night. They needed to collect some more fencing wire, and tomorrow Carrie would bring her things to the campsite and she’d stay on to look after the horses, and continue her lessons with Dan.

  Although Dan was eager to get the brumbies safely out of the park, they were planning to wait a few more days before trying to capture them. This would give Dan time to improve his riding skills, and allow Justin more time to plan what he was going to do with them after that. Moving them from the park to his land was no simple task. Justin had finally decided not to try driving them across country on horseback. It was too far, and there were too many places where they might lose the herd. A truck was the best answer, but loading wild horses onto a truck was not going to be easy.

  Quinn was feeling restless. Before she and the kids left, Ellen had passed on a message from Trish. Quinn’s agent had called the hotel, looking for her when he was unable to raise her on her mobile.

  She’d call him back tomorrow. She had to go to the ranger station to get a signal, and she really didn’t want to. She knew where the conversation would lead. He’d want to know how ‘the brumby project’ was going, and when it would be finished.

  When she had first become involved in … whatever this was … she had told her agent there was a great story to be had. He’d been enthusiastic and certain he could sell her photo essay to a major newspaper or magazine. He’d even suggested National Geographic might be interested. He’d be anxious to hear when he would see some photos. When he could make his pitch and make them both some money.

  Quinn should be as eager as he was. That was how she made her living. More than that, it was a career she had chosen for herself and loved. She would have made more money had she continued to model, but her photography fulfilled some basic creative drive within her. She was committed to her career – and had envisaged a significant story – not to mention some significant income from her photos of the brumby rescue.

  But something had changed. It had become personal. She no longer looked at the brumbies as just a story. She no longer looked at the other people involved as characters in that story. Justin and Carrie, Trish and Ellen and the others were, if not yet friends, rapidly becoming so.

  And Dan? Quinn wasn’t entirely sure. A part of her yearned to finish what had started at the waterhole. Her flesh still tingled when she remembered the way his eyes had followed the water trickling over her body. She had never felt so intensely feminine. So sexy, so desirable. A part of that was down to her own intensely physical attraction to Dan. From the day they had met, when she’d watched him stride down the side of the gorge, angry and threatening and more male than anyone she had ever met before. He might not be as handsome as some of the male models she’d worked with – but he was more of a man than all of the pretty boys put together. And when they had swum half naked in the billabong, it was all she could do not to touch his body. To feel the hardness of his muscles. And the scars she’d seen had only added to the overpowering feeling of strength that oozed from his every pore.

  So what was holding her back?

  She thought she knew the answer to that. The scars on his body were not the only legacy of his military service. It was clear he carried emotional scars as well. That didn’t make him any less attractive to her. Perhaps the opposite. Any man who could see and do what a war demanded and remain untouched was not for her. She desired a more thoughtful soul. A more caring heart. But it was plain Dan struggled at times with the past. He didn’t need any other disruption in his life. And that’s what she would be. A disruption. Whatever happened between them would end when she walked away. And she always walked away. Dan deserved better than that.

  ‘That’s probably cooked by now.’

  ‘What …?’ Quinn dragged her mind back to the present, and looked down at the pot bubbling madly in the fire in front of her. ‘Sorry, I was miles away.’

  She grabbed a couple of enamelled metal plates and began to spoon out two good helpings of the steaming food. The rich smell teased her nostrils as she handed one plate to Dan.

  In return, he passed her a cool beer, with the top already open.

  ‘Here’s to the brumbies,’ Dan said, raising his beer can to Quinn.

  She nodded and raised her own beer in return.

  Dan tasted the food and licked his lips in appreciation. ‘Trish sure knows how to cook.’

  ‘I think this one might be Ellen’s doing,’ Quinn said. ‘She has a reputation as a great cook.’

  They ate quickly, hungry after a day’s hard labour. The stew was followed by some cake that was equally delicious, and finally both leaned back, replete.

  ‘I was pretty impressed with your riding lesson,’ Quinn said. ‘You looked like you had done that before.’

  ‘Never,’ Dan said with a smile. ‘I really enjoyed it though. It’s not at all like I thought it would be.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I suppose I thought it would be a domination thing. Force the horse to do what I wanted it to do. But that’s not the way it was. It was more like working together. I liked that. You should have a go. I bet you’d do pretty well too.’

  ‘I’m not so sure about that.’

  ‘Don’t sell yourself short. I think you’d do just fine.’

  Quinn cast a sideways glance at Dan as he placed another log on the fire. The flickering flames enhanced the angles and planes of his face and gave a rich molten texture to his red hair. Her fingers twitched – but for once it was not because she wanted to reach for her camera. Because she wanted to touch him. And when he raised his eyes from the flames to look at her, she saw the same desire reflected back. All her reservations and doubts vanished in an instant. The need to be in his arms was the only thing that mattered.

  Dan got to his feet, and held out a hand. Quinn placed her hand in his. In one single movement, she was standing and in his arms and their lips were seeking each other with a hunger as hot as the fire itself.

  He tasted like a steamy summer’s day. Like the tingle of electricity in a thunder storm. He was smooth strong chocolate and the sensuous feel of fine suede. His arms closed around her and pulled her close. She could feel his hard body pressed against hers and she lost herself in him.

  The squeal from the top of the ridge tore them apart. Dan’s heart, already pounding with emotion and desire, kicked up a gear as he spun to face the danger. He stepped in front of Quinn, his hand automatically reaching for the weapon that was not there. His head knew that there was no danger, but his instincts took over, his eyes searching the darkness for threat.

  ‘It’s the stallion.’ Quinn’s steady voice beside him was all he needed to bring him back to this time and place.

  His eyes followed her pointing finger. Silhouetted against the bright stars of the night sky, he could see the stallion pacing along the top of the gorge, scenting the horses below. Finbarr and his companion were moving restlessly, hampered by the hobbles they wore. One of them whinnied, prompting an immediate response from the stallion, a hard fierce masculine challenge.

  ‘He’s checking out the newcomers invading his turf,’ Quinn said.

  ‘Do you think he’ll come down?’

  ‘I don’t know. I kind of hope he doesn’t,’ Quinn said. ‘I have no idea what to do if he does.’

  ‘I suppose we could try to get him into the yard.’ Dan sounded hesitant.

  ‘Would he hurt Justin’s horses?’ Quinn asked.

  Neither of them knew the answer to that.

  The question was solved when the stallion squealed once more and with a final toss of his head, vanished into the darkness.

  ‘I’ll just check everything is okay.’ Dan moved away from the fire towards the stockyard and the horses that were still showing some signs of restl
essness.

  He needed those moments alone in the darkness to compose himself. He was the one disquieted. Not by the stallion so much as by his own actions. He had sworn he would not give in to this overwhelming attraction he felt for Quinn. No good could come of it for her. If he was no good for himself, he was certainly no good to her either. What had he been thinking? Giving in to the urge to take her in his arms. She had looked so lovely in the glow of the fire. So close. So tempting. This beautiful woman who could have the world at her feet on a catwalk, but chose instead to look for beauty in the wild places she loved. Quinn wanted to save the world – or at least this small part of it. He admired that. He’d wanted to save the world once. That’s why he’d signed up and gone to war. He had soon learned that saving the world was not what he’d thought. Of the two of them, he thought Quinn probably understood that far better than he.

  Maybe she could save him too. She had already helped him once through that book of photographs that was one of his most valued possessions. But he would never ask her to do it again.

  After checking the horses, he didn’t walk back to the campfire, where Quinn was waiting. Instead, he turned towards the side of the gorge. It wasn’t hard for him to climb to a vantage point halfway up the rock wall. From there, he could raise his eyes to look into the heavens and the dark sky, sprinkled with glittering stars. Or he could look down to the one bright light on the bottom of the gorge. The campfire, where he could see Quinn sitting on a fallen tree that had room for two. She was knitting as she waited for him to return.

  The sarge was right. Back there in Fallujah. When he’d called Dan a coward. He was a coward. He was never afraid of the enemy he’d faced in the desert. He wasn’t afraid of being injured. Or dying. He was afraid of seeing the disappointment in Quinn’s eyes when she realised who he was and what he had done. Spending time with Ellen’s kids today had brought it back with such sharp clarity. A child. He was responsible for the death of a child. That was unforgivable. He could never forgive himself – and nor would Quinn.

  He stayed where he was for a long time. He watched the fire slowly die down to nothing. He watched Quinn give up hope. She stood up, checked the fire, and retired to her tent. Still he didn’t move. The gas light Quinn kept in her tent came on. He could see her silhouette as she moved about the tent, preparing for sleep. Finally, the light died and darkness settled over the camp.

  Dan still didn’t move. He sat and listened to the small night sounds of the bush. He listened to the stock horses moving below him. He watched the moon float above the landscape. He waited for sleep to touch him – but it didn’t.

  Just before sunrise, Dan came back down into the gully. Moving silently to avoid waking Quinn, he collected his car keys and walked to his jeep. He started the engine and drove swiftly away.

  The brilliant headlights of the jeep cut through the pre-dawn darkness as Dan drove back to the ranger station. Knowing that it was pointless to try for even an hour or two of sleep, he went to his office to work. The e-mail from Thomas Lawson was waiting for him when he powered on his computer. He read the words slowly.

  … departmental policy regarding eradication of non-indigenous animals … immediate implementation in time for the minister’s announcement at the end of the month… further delay will be seen as a refusal to follow direction and could result in dismissal …

  Hidden behind the formal language of the bureaucracy, there was no mistaking the intent or seriousness of the order he had been given.

  It was already too late. Too late for the brumbies and too late for him. He didn’t really care about the threat to his job. Much as he loved it, he would walk away if that would save the horses. But it wouldn’t. In fact, quite the reverse. He wasn’t going to walk away from his responsibility to the animals. This time he was going to follow orders that he hated. Orders that he believed were wrong. He’d do it to avoid a possibility of cruelty and suffering.

  It would cost him everything – but he would do it.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Quinn was woken by the sound of kookaburra laughing. She lay still for a few seconds, wondering what she and Dan would say to each other. Would she tell him how late she had sat by the campfire, knitting and hoping he would appear from the darkness? The almost completed garment lying on her rucksack was evidence of that. Would she tell him how disappointed she’d been when he didn’t return?

  She heard a car pull up and the sound of two doors slamming. Carrie and Justin. That meant it was unlikely she and Dan would have any private moments to talk about last night. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or bad. Quinn rose from her camp cot and slipped on a clean top and shorts. She ran a brush through her tousled hair, before ducking through the tent flap. She looked across at Dan’s tent. The flap was closed. His car wasn’t parked in its usual spot. At some time during the night, he’d left. Again. Did he really find it that hard to be alone with her?

  ‘Hi,’ Carrie called as she walked past, a bale of hay balanced easily on her shoulder. ‘You slept late.’

  Quinn hadn’t yet learned to judge the time of day by the position of the sun. She glanced at her watch and was surprised to see the time.

  ‘I was up late,’ she murmured as she set about lighting her gas burner. ‘Coffee anyone?’

  ‘No thanks, we’ve already had breakfast.’ Justin was also carrying a bale of hay. ‘We brought another load of feed. We’re going to need it when we’ve got the brumbies in.’

  Quinn made coffee and ate a muffin and an apple that she found in Trish’s latest care package. As she did, she watched the ease with which Justin and Carrie worked together. They had what seemed like a lot of horse feed unloaded by the time she had finished her breakfast. Then Justin caught one of the stock horses, saddled it and with a wave was gone, trotting away up the sandy bottom of the gorge.

  It occurred to Quinn that she had never seen Carrie actually ride one of the horses. She frowned. That seemed wrong. She thought back to Ellen’s visit with her kids. Carrie had seemed ill at ease just leading the horse around. Quinn watched Carrie and began to realise that the woman she had met in Coorah Creek lacked the confidence and enthusiasm to be a top jockey. Maybe that was changing a little, but Quinn thought Carrie had a secret she was not yet ready to share with any of them. A secret that might be the downfall of their mission.

  Carrie joined Quinn and helped herself to an apple too.

  ‘You’re not riding with him. On the other horse?’ Quinn asked.

  ‘No. I thought I would wait. I assume Dan will be here soon. Then I can give him another lesson. That’s important.’

  ‘He said he really enjoyed yesterday,’ Quinn said. ‘You must be a good teacher.’

  Carrie shook her head. ‘He’s a natural.’

  Dan was many things, Quinn thought, and all of them tugged at her heart and her body.

  ‘Is there anything useful I can do right now?’ Quinn asked.

  ‘Not really. Justin probably will have some bits and pieces he wants done when he gets back. But we are nearly ready, I think.’

  ‘I have to go to the ranger station,’ Quinn said getting to her feet. ‘I need a signal for my phone. I need to talk to my agent.’

  Not just her agent, she thought as she got behind the wheel of her Humvee and started the engine. It was probably time she contacted her parents. It had been a while. She wasn’t as close to them as she used to be, but they still worried about her.

  And then there was Dan. She was glad they would be alone when she saw him again. Not that she had any real idea about what might happen. They had kissed. A good kiss. No – more than that. A great kiss. But still, just a kiss. They were adults not teenagers. So why should a simple kiss be so complex. And why did it cause her heart to flutter as she saw the ranger station appear on the road ahead.

  When she pulled up at the station, Dan’s jeep was parked beside the house. Quinn thought about going inside and asking to use his phone. Instead, she pulled her mobile fr
om her pocket. There was signal. This was better, she thought. There might be parts of this conversation she didn’t want Dan to hear. Everyone knew she was planning a photo essay about rescuing the brumbies. They’d all agreed to be a part of that. Even Dan. A positive story about a humane brumby rescue shouldn’t upset his boss too much. In fact, quite the opposite. The part of this conversation she didn’t want Dan to hear would be the part about her next assignment. The part about her leaving.

  The conversation was brief. Her agent had some news for her about some of her book sales. A photograph she had taken had been shortlisted for an award, which made her absurdly proud. Then he asked when she was likely to have something from this project that he could look at. Then maybe he could start thinking about turning it into a photo essay. Or a book. Something that he could sell. After all, that was his job.

  Then came the part she had been expecting. Her growing fame as a photographer meant she was in demand. There were publishers offering her projects. Magazines requesting her for high-end shoots. When, her agent wanted to know, would she be available? Which of the very attractive offers should he accept on her behalf?

  Quinn was deliberately vague about how much longer she’d be staying at Coorah Creek. It wasn’t that she was lying to her agent. She honestly didn’t know herself. She was beginning to think that maybe she was in over her head – in more ways than one.

  When she ended the call, she was scrolling down her contacts to her parents’ number, when a sharp, harsh crack of sound made her freeze. A rifle shot! A few seconds later there was a second. And a third.

  The shots were coming from behind Dan’s house.

  Quinn ran to the corner of the building. She emerged the other side just in time to see Dan swing the rifle back up to his shoulder and fire. Some distance away, a tree branch exploded into thousands of splinters. Dan lowered the rifle and checked the sights.

  Horror swept over Quinn. This could only mean one thing.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’