by Margaret Way
“I see too little of my nephew,” she said. “I could scarcely get near him last night for that Carol girl. I think she actually fears letting go of his arm.”
Even so Liz Carol hadn’t been able to keep Brod to herself. Rebecca, without appearing to notice, had seen him dancing with a number of pretty girls.
When she stood up to replace the volume on the shelf Stewart Kinross, impressive in his riding clothes, came to the door.
“How you do manage to lose yourself, Rebecca,” he said, smiling rather fiercely. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
“It’s a big house, Stewart,” she pointed out mildly. “In fact the biggest private house I’ve ever been in outside of English stately homes.”
“Now you’re talking!” he said. “This would be a modest cottage compared to over there.”
“This could never be a modest cottage anywhere,” Rebecca said dryly. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about anyway, Stewart.”
“Marvellous.” He threw that off. “First get started on changing into your riding clothes. I feel like a good gallop. Get all that party feeling out of my system.”
Rebecca resisted. “You don’t think there might be an afternoon storm.” She was a little scared of storms. “It’s turned very hot.”
“There could be I guess,” he conceded, “but nothing to worry us. I’ve seen the most monumental storm clouds blow up. Great masses of purplish clouds rolling across the desert. But not one drop of rain. Before long a wind gets up and the clouds are blown asunder. If you get dressed I’ll go down to the stables and organise the horses. If you’re a particularly good girl I’ll let you put Jeeba through her paces.”
He turned and was gone, leaving Rebecca to climb the central staircase and find her way back to her room. Although it was so quiet, the day seemed to be thrumming with a strange kind of electricity. It was only when she was dressed in her riding gear, standing on the front verandah putting on her hat, that she took time to really examine the enamelled blue sky.
At the moment all seemed to be well, yet for some reason she had lightning on her mind. She and a friend had been caught once sailing in his yacht, one of the scariest experiences she had had. They were miles from anywhere with lightning flashing closer every time and the ninety-six-foot mast soaring to the lowering sky like a giant lightning rod. Her friend Simon had told her to get inside the cabin and disconnect the aerials and the power leads. If the worst came to the worst and the yacht was struck, at least the radio would still be working. She had never to this day forgotten the experience even though the storm passed over them without incident.
They rode southwards along a chain of tranquil billabongs where the River Red gums gave shade with their wonderful abundance of fresh green foliage. None of the pools was deep at this time though these same pools, Rebecca had been told, could flood miles beyond their banks. Stewart had pointed out flood debris caught high up in the branches of these riverside trees, indicating the height the floods had reached. A flat-topped mesa a few miles off looked remarkable in the brilliant afternoon light. It rose from the burnt umber plains to glow fiery red against the sky so blue it had turned violet.
The mirage, too, was abroad, creating such strange atmospheric tricks. It seemed to Rebecca’s dazzled eyes a nomadic tribe was travelling across the landscape but the closer they rode the further off these wraithlike people appeared until they finally disappeared.
The desert birds most active early morning or getting on towards sunset were out in their countless thousands, their trilling and shrieking filling the air. Rebecca had often felt sorry for little budgerigars in a cage; now she rejoiced in the sight of them in the wild. They flew in great numbers across the increasingly incandescent sky, the dancing light throwing up vivid flashes of emerald-green from the wings and gold from the head and neck. Down in the lignum swamps nested the great colonies of Ibis. Kimbara was a major breeding ground for nomadic water birds, the spoonbills, the egrets and herons, the countless thousands of ducks and water hens. The pelicans stuck to the remoter swamps while the beautifully plumaged parrots, the pink and grey galahs and the white corellas tended to favour the mulga.
As they rode the trail back up to the grassy flats topped with tiny purple flowers in their millions Stewart, crouched low in the saddle, challenged her to a race. She took after him giving her spirited chestnut mare, Jeeba, all the encouragement she needed. It was hopeless; Stewart was by far the better rider and the big bay gelding he was riding much stronger and speedier than the mare. It should have, but it didn’t seem to chase the cobwebs away. Rebecca was starting to feel quite alarmed by the sky. She stopped short near a clump of bauhinia trees and turned in the saddle, grey eyes anxious. “Stewart don’t you think we should be heading back?”
He reined in beside her, reaching over to put a hand over hers. “Why so nervous, my dear?”
She withdrew her hand very gently pretending to adjust her cream Akubra. “I’m not normally nervous but the storm doesn’t seem to be all that far away. Look at the sky.”
“Goodness I’ve seen worse,” he responded a little tersely, watching her start as a cockatoo nearby gave an agonised screech. “I know all about these things, my dear. I might look like a Wagnerian holocaust but we’ve been in drought.”
“Well if that’s what you think,” she said doubtfully, still eyeing the lurid sky.
“So now’s a good time to ask me what you wanted to earlier,” Stewart suggested.
Rebecca decided to tackle the issue head-on not duck it. “I expect you know what it is, Stewart,” she said. “I didn’t have the slightest idea the Necklace you lent me was so important to the family. Why didn’t you tell me?”
He gave her the look of a man who thinks himself insulted. “My dear I don’t usually do things accompanied by an explanation.”
“I think in this case you might have made an exception,” she said very seriously. “I understand the Necklace was last worn by your wife.”
His jaw tightened perceptibly. “Rebecca, that’s no big secret. What is bothering you exactly? I saw you and Brod together last night. Did he take it upon himself to correct you for wearing it?”
“Not at all.” Rebecca met his gaze. On no account was she going to create more discord between father and son.
“Please tell me,” he urged, as though reading her thoughts. “Don’t hold anything back.”
She saw a flash of lightning appear on the horizon. “Stewart, it’s a very beautiful necklace,” Rebecca said, realising she was struggling with anxiety, “but it didn’t make me happy to know it’s promised to Brod’s future wife.”
Steward Kinross gave an icy chuckle. “My dear it belongs to me until such time. More to the point I could remarry. I’ve a damned lot to offer.”
“I’m sure you have, Stewart.” Rebecca felt she was floundering out of her depth. “It’s just that it wasn’t right to lend it to me.”
He hesitated, the grimness of his expression gentling. “You look like you’re about to cry.”
She set off deliberately. “I assure you I’m not. I think it has something to do with the colour of my eyes. You wouldn’t believe the number of people who’ve told me that.”
“They shimmer like diamonds.” The look he flashed at her contained such a degree of feeling Rebecca, at that moment, felt she didn’t have the strength to confront it. But she had to face the fact Stewart’s infatuation with her had ruined things completely. If she didn’t leave Kimbara, where would it all end?
“I really feel, Stewart, we have to get out of here,” she urged, her face showing her strain. “The lightning seems to be getting closer.”
He peered almost nonchalantly at the sort of sky he had seen countless times in his life. “My dear, it’s many kilometres away. But if you’re frightened…”
She felt no shame. “It’s only reasonable to take precautions. I wouldn’t like to be caught out in the open.”
He continued to sit the big b
ay, silently staring at her. “You don’t feel anything for me, do you?” he said eventually, his handsome face hard and flat.
She was almost too unnerved to speak. “Stewart, this is all a mistake,” she cried. “I have to go.”
“It’s because of Broderick, isn’t it?” He appeared to force out the words.
“Stewart, that’s an insane idea,” she protested, laying a calming hand on Jeeba’s neck.
“Is it?”
The way he said it made her hair crawl on her scalp. “And you’ve no right to ask.” She’d had enough bullying to last her a lifetime.
“There’s no way I’ll let him have you.” He made a grab for her reins but Rebecca was waiting. She kicked a boot into Jeeba’s side and the mare, already on the nervous side, responded by tearing off, its flying hooves crushing all the little wildflowers and scattering tufts of grass.
God was there no way out of this! Was she doomed to fire men’s sexual obsession?
Rebecca let the mare gallop furiously across the valley, heading the startled animal towards the long broad hollow like a trench at the edge of a treeless slope. They had passed it on the ride out. There was a shorter time now between the lightning flash and the thunder. The lightning was coming closer. Why ever had Stewart chosen to take the horses out? They were so very exposed there seemed like no escape. He had put them at risk? She started to pray for the rain to come down so it could soak her to the skin. Much safer to have wet clothes when lightning was about. Any charge would conduct through the wet clothes rather than the body. She didn’t even know if Stewart was far behind her.
Aware of the approaching storm, Brod headed back early to the homestead parking the Jeep in the drive. He worked his way through the house, saw nobody, then went to Fee’s room, tapping on the door.
“Fee, it’s me,” he called. “Where’s everyone?”
Fee, who had been lightly dozing, pulled herself off the bed and went to the door. “Hello there, darling. I’ve been catching up on my beauty sleep.”
“Where’s Dad and Rebecca?” he asked, sounding mighty taut.
“Are they missing?” Fee blinked.
“There’s no one about.”
Reluctantly Fee pulled herself wide-awake. “Ah yes, I know. Rebecca did come to the door to tell me they were going riding.”
“When was this?” Brod frowned.
“Oh, darling, I’d say a couple of hours ago. What is it?” Fee, catching his mood, asked with a thread of apprehension.
“They’re not home, unless they’ve arrived back at the stables. There’s one hell of a storm about to break, Fee. It’s been threatening all afternoon. Dad knows the risks of taking the horses out on a day like this.”
Fee’s mouth turned down. “You know your father, dear. He likes playing God.”
“He’s got Rebecca with him,” Brad clipped off. “I’m really surprised he decided to take her out riding. For that matter couldn’t she look up and see the sky?”
“For that matter I haven’t seen it myself,” Fee only half joked, darting away to the verandah. “Good Lord!” she breathed, reading the extraordinary sky. Her demeanour changed, becoming very serious. “That’s pretty alarming even by our standards.” She looked up at Brod who had joined her. “I’m sure they’re safe, darling,” she offered, recognising his deep concern. “My guess is they’re taking shelter in the caves.”
His lean face darkened. “Only a fool would head out that way today. They’re more likely to have taken the Willowie trail. I’m going after them.”
Fee put a detaining hand on his arm. “Be careful, darling, your father won’t like that.”
“A pity!” he rasped. “This is a disaster, Fee. The whole business. Dad’s acting like a complete fool.”
“He’s only human, Brod,” Fee said quietly, though sometimes in the past she had wondered if it were true.
“He told me this morning he explained all about the Necklace to Rebecca. Still she wore it.”
He sounded so violently outraged, so betrayed, Fee had no hesitation speaking her mind. “I suppose you’ve considered your father could have been lying, Brod. I know that girl.”
He turned away urgently. “Maybe she’s making fools of us all. I don’t know. For the first time in my life I don’t know. But I’m going after her because I do know Dad. If anything goes wrong she won’t be able to handle him.”
He drove fast across the valley, cursing beneath his breath as the lightning flashes grew closer, followed in long seconds by the deafening crash of thunder. He estimated the lightning was only a couple of kilometres away. Whatever had possessed his father to ride out on such an afternoon? Was he full of hope if he had Rebecca alone he could convince her he cared for her? That he knew she could come to care about him? That he could cocoon her in a world of luxury? Had he even been heading towards the caves knowing at some point in the afternoon they would have to take shelter? Well he had no right to do it, Brod fumed. No right to harass her. Or was this what she wanted all along?
He didn’t know the truth. He was only guessing.
Another brilliant flash of lightning forked from the clouds to the ground. Instinctively he winced. When he reopened his eyes it was to see a horse and rider galloping full tilt across the illuminated landscape with another rider hot in pursuit. He could see the first rider was a woman. She had lost her hat and her long hair was flying like a silk banner on the wind.
Rebecca! Whatever she was, saint or sinner, he felt relief pour into his body. He swung the Jeep in her direction. She appeared to be making for the deep depression that ran like a curving gully around the base of the nearest hillock. At least she had some sense. No one in their right mind would take shelter beneath a tree. The first big drops were falling now, striking the hard ground. This was the time of greatest risk.
Just as he thought it, suddenly, violently as though waiting for the exact moment to find its victim, a bolt of lightning was flung down from the leaden clouds casting a terrifying blaze before it forked into the second rider with a glow that burned the retina.
Almost blinded, caged in the Jeep, Brod felt such shock, such pain, it was almost as if his own heart had stopped. His father had been struck before his very eyes. Not only the man, horse and rider were down. Now came the inevitable clap of thunder, like the roar of some malevolent god, deeper, darker, devastating the ears. He could see Rebecca had become unseated, a small huddle on the ground, while Jeeba was struggling to her feet.
He felt compelled to go to Rebecca first. Drag her into the Jeep where she would be safer than anywhere else. Then he had to go to his father. He knew as well as anybody, lightning can and did strike more than once in the same place but he had to go all the same. His eyes stung behind his narrowed lids, as his whole life seemed to crowd in on him. He realised at that moment the whole day had blazed in an excess of strangeness and the threat of danger.
Rebecca was fully conscious, moaning a little. He ran his hands over her swiftly—he was certain no bones were broken then he lifted her high in his arms bundling her into the Jeep.
“Brod? My God, what happened?”
“Lightning, a lightning strike,” he shouted. “Stay in the Jeep. Don’t move.” He slammed the door shut, enraged and saddened to see Jeeba tottering in pain. If she’d broken a leg she would have to be put down. Now inexplicably the ferocity of the storm abated, seeming to pass directly over them towards the eroded chain of hills with its network of caves.
He found his father on the now sodden ground, the big bay gelding dead beneath him. Desperately keeping his emotions in check he began massage and mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, stopping for a minute, starting again.
At some point Rebecca joined him, ghostly pale, her hair streaming water, looking so young she might have been home from boarding school.
“Brod,” she said very gently, after a while, taking his arm, holding it, letting her head come to rest against his shoulder. “Your father is dead.”
“What are
you talking about?” he defied her. “He’s living, breathing…”
“Brod, he’s not.”
Even so he had to make his last-ditch attempt, knowing beside him Rebecca was crying. “He can’t be dead,” he said, sounding so definite when he knew all life had fled.
“I’m so sorry…so sorry…” Rebecca crumpled as though all her energy had been burnt up. This had to be the worst day of her life. Such a dreadful thing for Brod. She wanted to comfort him, only exhaustion conquered her.
Now from everywhere men converged on the scene, pushing onwards until they reached the spot where Stewart Kinross lay dead on the ground, his son bowed over him holding his head in his hands. Rebecca was huddled in the grass, motionless though her lips were moving in prayer.
“What in the name of God has happened here?” Ted Holland demanded in the utmost confusion. “Brod, speak to me, man.”
Slowly Brod turned up his head. “My father did something incredibly foolish, Ted. He rode out in an electrical storm. I saw the lightning hit him. I saw him go down, his horse under him. Both of them were struck.”
“Lord God and the little lady?” Ted stared at Rebecca who appeared quite calm but disoriented.
“I’m afraid she’s in shock,” Brod said bleakly. “We’ll have to get her back to the house. Get her warm. A shot of something. Fee is there, Ted. Take the Jeep then come back for me. I have to get my father home.”
CHAPTER FIVE
ALISON KINROSS received the news of her father’s death when she was attending a party given for a visiting American film star.
“Take it in the study, Ally,” her society hostess murmured, drawing her gently aside. “It’s your brother.”
There had to be a very good reason for Brod to go to these lengths to track her down, Ally thought, immediately panicked. She and Brod spoke often on the phone but if he didn’t find her at home he always left a message on the machine. She hurried into the Sinclair study and shut the door after her. She was a strikingly beautiful young woman with a mane of dark curly hair and almond-shaped green eyes. Family eyes. Fiona Kinross had them, always using them to great effect.
