Outback Fire

by Margaret Way

  Sometime she had to start a new life. A life free of her father, adored though he had been. Surely it was time? Her heart might still ache at the wounds of the past but she would have to let them heal. Her father obviously hadn’t even considered her feelings in leaving half the station to Luke. Maybe he had even thought she was willing to share. After all he had left her a very rich woman. But in giving them each an equal share there was so much potential for conflict. They would have to marry to make it work.

  She mulled the situation over long enough to agree with Luke’s taking the profits. He would, after all, be in charge of the whole operation. He would do the work though she was darn sure she was never going to be sidelined again. She wasn’t a fool, a butterfly by nature. She ran a business. A good business that was expanding. She’d had clients fly in from Hong Kong, Thailand, California, all over to have her design something special for them. All the things she should have been taught about Winding River’s operations she was going to learn. Not that she’d encounter the same problem with Luke. She didn’t doubt for a moment Luke would show her everything she needed to know. Luke was a man of today as opposed to her father who had always maintained she didn’t really need to know anything about “business” and became quite rattled if she persisted. Even rattled with Luke who could do no wrong. Luke had often tried to include her in discussions but both of them saw clearly it had irritated Athol McFarlane too much.

  Men were men and women were women and never the twain should meet. Except in bed. Athol McFarlane’s thoughts on having a woman, even a daughter, as a business partner.

  So she was going to drive Luke away? Knowing Luke it could happen very fast. What if he turned his attention to another woman? What if he married her? Would the new woman then become part-mistress of Winding River? She, herself, would be expected to make her residence in Sydney, visiting very infrequently. Luke had his share for life. The income for life. After that, if she survived him—somehow she couldn’t bear to dwell on that—his share would revert to her. So in the end Winding River would come to her children.

  Rather than start up a headache, Storm took a quick shower, dressed in the clothes she had brought from the house, a yellow T-shirt, above the knee cargo shorts, white socks and sturdy boots. She knew the aerial muster was going on today. Luke would be flying the helicopter. She’d find a good vantage point in the hill country and oversee the muster. She always found it thrilling. Afterwards she could do a bit of prospecting, picking up her stones. She’d found many a piece of opal matrix in the ancient hills. She might be lucky again today. She shoved her yellow akubra on her head, drank a glass of milk from the refrigerator and picked up a couple of shiny red apples. She’d be going some distance so she’d take one of the Jeeps.

  Sometimes the station used the big helicopter operation run by Grant Cameron, other times Luke took up Winding River’s reliable Bell 47. Luke was a high-calibre pilot. Heli-mustering in a tough industry was both cost effective and a time saving alternative to stockmen in a big operation like theirs. A half hour out she spotted the red helicopter flying low over the scrub. It was flushing out hundreds of cattle and rounding them up. Stockmen on the ground were working in conjunction with the helicopter, on motorbikes and horseback. If this year the rains a thousand miles to the tropical north of the state continued, or a cyclone swept in, this vast riverine desert would go underwater. The plains were so flat the water could spread for fifty miles. In this part of the world it was possible for thousands of square miles to be irrigated by the northern floodwaters without a drop of local rain. It could work for her given Luke’s commitment to Winding River; he wouldn’t leave now and put all his hard work in jeopardy.

  A breathing space for them both?

  Storm parked the Jeep at the rust-red base of the highest hill, picking her way carefully up the rocks to the flat-topped summit. A single ghost gum on top of it. She had a great view. Cattle were thundering towards the holding yards. Once Luke swooped so low her heart jumped into her mouth. What he could do with the helicopter was fantastic. Her father used to make the joke that Luke could lean out to open the gates of the holding yard without even landing, but Luke never did anything too risky. Apart from person safety, air regulations were too strict.

  She watched for quite a while then when the helicopter swung inland, maybe to land, she began to pick her way downhill fossicking through the ancient stones. Little lizards were darting thither and yon but she took care not to touch them. The geckos if touched were so vulnerable their tails dropped off. A group of wild donkeys came to see what she was doing on their territory, but she shooed them off, hoping she wouldn’t meet up with a feral camel. It was a station rule to refrain from shooting feral camels if possible but some of them were incredibly dangerous on their best days.

  These hills and flat-topped mesas, so harsh and arid for most of the time, she’d seen them covered in the most beautiful delicate blooms after rain; wild hibiscus, morning glories, cleomes, lilac lamb’s tails smothering the rough stones, the undulating waves of the green pussy tails massed to the far horizon. She was moving very carefully, for the hillside was covered in loose shale, when she spotted something glittering down below her, flashes of blue and green raised up along the serrated back of a chunk of rock. Opal?

  She moved faster downhill, planting her feet firmly, treating the hill with respect, but to her horror her foot became snagged in the tangled old root of a spindly bush. She went hurtling like a train, trying desperately to retain her balance, her efforts undermined by the loose shale.

  “Oh God!” she cried out, a sound that carried surprisingly far in the still desert air. She was sick with the fear of falling, smashing her face, her limbs into those rocks. It was a miracle she was staying on her feet. An instant after the thought she totally lost balance, ricked an ankle badly, before sliding helplessly down the slope….

  She came to almost immediately she thought. Maybe a half a minute when she lost consciousness. She’d hit the back of her head on a half-submerged rock that had stopped her descent. She had blood on her hands. She’d thrown them out to protect her face. There was a powerful dull ache in her head. Storm could feel the lump without reaching back to touch it. But worse, far worse, she had sprained her ankle or… It was throbbing badly, swelling within her boot. Hell! She’d have to get herself out of this. The extraordinary part was for all the tumble her hat was still shoved down over her eyes. It might even have deadened the crack to her skull. Gingerly she went to sit up but as she did so her gaze fell on a snake in a defensive fanged position not four feet from her. A taipan, the largest and most feared venomous snake in the country, thus the world. Rich brown on top she could see its yellow and orange under spots. Its head was raised above its coiled body easily ten feet in length. It wasn’t the first time she had encountered a snake, desert death adders, taipans. One lived with them in the interior but even the worst of them weren’t aggressive unless threatened. Somehow that didn’t give her a lot of heart.

  There was no way she could move fast, not with her ankle. The snake could strike lightning fast if she startled it. What to do? She dared not throw anything. Instead of darting away it could attack. Between the throbbing in her ankle, her head, plus the glittering heat she wasn’t thinking too clearly. In fact she felt woozy. She could stay perfectly still and the snake might lose interest and slither away. She thought it looked less alert. The head had lowered fractionally. They had antivenom on the station. That’s if anyone would get to her in time. Storm held herself rigid scarcely daring to breathe. Go away, snake. Go away and find yourself some other little reptile to eat.

  It seemed like an eternity until the taipan slid off disappearing into the sparse vegetation the same colour as itself. Just as well it hadn’t been a dingo attracted by her blood. Very determinedly Storm began to move. Her akubra was protecting her face but the sun was scorching her arms and legs. If only she could discard that boot! Her foot was swelling so much the boot could hardly contain it
.

  Where was Luke? He had always found her as a child. But then it had always been Luke who had gone looking. She even remembered what he used to call her, little champ! She’d like that. Little champ. One of the boys. She’d have to be a champ now to get down the hill….

  Luke!

  He waved to the men as he took the chopper back up. He’d spotted the Jeep from the air and realised it was Storm. She’d always enjoyed watching the aerial muster, but she’d chosen a damned hot spot to do it not that there was a cool place away from the curving tranquil banks of a billabong. The strangest thing was he thought he’d heard her call his name.

  Luke!

  That was crazy, but he’d heard it. Now he had a strong urge to find out if she was okay. Probably she was fossicking around looking for white and crystal quartz, the sparkling stones polished by wind-blown sand until they resembled glossy gemstones. The Jeep he’d sighted far off was empty. He saw her at the same time. Her yellow hat and her yellow T-shirt were a blaze of colour against the rust-red rocks. He knew instantly there was something wrong. She appeared to be inching herself down the incline lying almost prone, but she raised her arm to wave to him.

  Little champ!

  Now why did he think of that? Their shared childhood of course. What a rebel she’d been! Always defying her father’s overly strict edicts, always trailing after them like a little scout. In retrospect the Major had treated her more like a precious porcelain doll than a living child full of courage and high spirits. Maybe the fact the Major had lost his young wife so tragically explained his overzealous sense of protectiveness.

  He put the chopper down at enough distance to prevent the whirling rotors from showering her in sand. His mind was racing, trying to fathom what had happened. He suspected she had lost her footing on the loose shale and taken a tumble. Obviously she had injured either her foot or her leg.

  He took the slope with a mixture of speed and caution, reaching her in the shortest possible time. He dropped to his haunches staring down at her with a face taut with anxiety.

  “Where does it hurt?” Even as he spoke his eyes were running over her. He saw the blood, he saw the grazes. Her face was unmarked but she held her head gingerly. So far as he could make out, the worst problem was her left ankle. He would have to cut off the boot to release her swollen foot.

  “I hope—I think, it’s sprained.” She spoke calmly enough, but she couldn’t stop herself from gasping in pain. “I hit my head, too. I’m sure there’s a great lump. And a bloody great snake,” she gritted, “a taipan, kept me company for God knows how long before it decided to take off.”

  He listened in horror, opening out the sharp blade of his pocket-knife. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

  “You’d better be,” she said, but smiled.

  As it was, she fainted while he swore softly in distress. He removed the damaged boot very slowly. It was ruined. The foot was very swollen. He didn’t know yet whether it was a bad sprain or she’d broken it. He prayed the former though bad sprains caused the more pain. Sometimes, too, a clean break was quicker to heal than torn ligaments. She was coming around, moaning a little. “It’s all right, Storm.” He bent to comfort her, stroking her cheek. “I’m here.”

  She murmured something, her face ashen. He looked back down the slope trying to gauge the best route to take. He settled on the way through the clumps of spinifex that dotted the cratered terrain. The spinifex would hold the soil and the stones there were larger, flatter, like pieces of sculpture. He would have to carry her so he could take no risks. He walked his proposed route first, pitching away the loose stones that mantled the ground, leaving his footprints as a track to follow.

  “I’m sorry, Luke,” she gasped as he lifted her into his arms. “I’m sorry…sorry…” Sorry for everything.

  Storm spent two days in Base Hospital where Luke had made the decision to take her immediately after the accident. Her ankle was X-rayed. It proved not to be broken but sprained. With her youth and excellent state of fitness, it was anticipated she would make a trouble-free early recovery. The blow to her head was treated with caution. When she arrived at the hospital she was found to be concussed, so she was admitted for observation and her cuts and grazes cleaned up.

  In the afternoon of the second day Luke came for her, landing the helicopter on the pad to the rear of the hospital. He found her inside the foyer waiting for him. They had her in a wheelchair and the sight smote him.

  “Hi, how’s it going?” He bent to kiss her pale cheek, his heart exposing him as a man deeply in love.

  “Fine. I bet you’re mad at me?” Tears of weakness shone in her beautiful green eyes.

  “Can’t you feel it?” He gave her his melting smile, remembering the very many times she had said that to him in their lives. “In much pain?” He knew she wouldn’t acknowledge it.

  “I’m okay. One of the nurses lent me a dress. It’s easy, button through.”

  “That was nice of her.” The dress was loose like a child’s smock, made of some light flowery material. She looked beautiful whatever she wore. “And the headaches?”

  “They’re all but gone, Doctor.”

  “Which reminds me I’d better have a word with him,” Luke said, turning his head to look around.

  “He left, Luke. He’s gone with Sister Maree. There’s been an accident on Mingari. One of the stockmen, I think.”

  “Too bad. Now let’s get you out of here. I’ll need a wards man to help me get you into the chopper but I shouldn’t have any trouble getting you out.”

  Which was the case when they set down lightly as a bird on the homestead’s huge circular drive.

  “Just let yourself come down to me,” he urged, holding up his arms.

  She felt such pain in her ankle, she shut her eyes as he gathered her body to him, holding her closely, strongly, as if she were as insubstantial as a five-year-old.

  Her silky black mane brushed his cheek. Magic. Crushing him beneath a weight of desire. “Put your arms around my neck,” he advised, his voice so gentle and soothing she felt like a filly he was breaking in.

  “What would I do without you,” she exclaimed. It was meant as a truce, a peace offering but somehow, maybe because of the pain, it came out edgy.

  “I’m sure you’ll find out,” he said, his sensitive antennae out.

  Inside the house he set her down on a sofa in the drawing room. “Okay?” He had never seen her so pale.

  She looked up at him, so vibrant with life. “Thank you, Luke. If you could get the crutches out of the chopper I should be able to manage on my own.”

  “Not today anyway. I’ve contacted Noni. Told her about your accident. She wants to come home.”

  “Oh, that’s a shame! It means she won’t be able to enjoy a longer stay with her friend.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” he said. “She wants to come, Storm. Besides you need someone. I’m sure you don’t want me to help you dress and undress?” He had an irresistible vision of her slender naked body.

  Her face lit up with a wry smile. “I know you’d do a good job. I’ve put everyone out haven’t I? This is such a very busy time for you.” She smoothed the full skirt of her borrowed dress then she lifted her eyes to him. “You are going to stay?”

  His expression gave nothing away. “I won’t leave you when you’re like this, Storm. I won’t leave until the big muster is over. I owe that to your father.”

  “Not to me?” She looked searchingly into his handsome, familiar face.

  “I quit before I let you ask for my resignation.” He said it like a joke but she knew it was no joke.

  “I suppose I deserve that?”

  “Maybe, but all this can wait, at least for the time being. The both of us have enough on our plate.”

  “I know,” she sighed, “but we have to discuss it sometime.”

  “I think I’ll wait until you’ve got some colour in your cheeks,” he answered dryly, beginning to turn about. “I’ll mak
e some tea. You put your foot up.” He found a cushion and placed it. “How long does the doctor think?”

  “Two, three weeks.” She winced a little as her foot came to rest, an involuntary movement of her facial muscles. “I’ll see how I go.”

  “You’d be best advised to do as the doctor says,” he warned, knowing Storm. “Ice packs, I suppose?”

  “Yes. Don’t worry about me, Luke,” she said in a conciliatory voice. “This is nothing. Just a minor setback. When’s Noni coming home?”

  He paused at the door. “We can’t expect her until the day after tomorrow. She’ll come in with the freight plane.” His eyes moved over her as she lay on the couch. “I’ll stay here at the homestead tonight so you can sleep easy.”

  She wanted nothing more. Nothing more than he should touch her. Love her.

  “The things you do for me,” she said.

  Luke didn’t return to the house until well after seven. Hours lost were hours that had to be made up. He had showered and changed, the dark flame of his hair temporarily subdued by damp. He found her in the kitchen, crutches beneath her arms, going from the counter to the table.

  “Here, let me do that.” He crossed the large room in a couple of strides.

  She surrendered without a fight. “I never knew how difficult it is to get around on crutches. I guess I’ll learn.”

  Concern touched his eyes. “I told you I’d attend to all this, Storm. You know you should be off that foot as much as possible. Hopping around will only slow progress. I’m sorry, I’m so late. It was unavoidable.”