Heart of the Outback

by Lynne Wilding

  Her eyelids flickered and opened and she stared at the camera lens. Light, damn you! Anger and frustration welled up inside her. She bent close to the grass and saw the barest wisp of smoke. Her hand shook and a frown wrinkled her brow. Had she wanted to see it so much that she’d imagined it? Maybe she had. Her heartbeat quickened. She blew gently on the grass. A puff of smoke rose timidly, and finally a single spark. She fed more grass, continuing to blow until the first flame caught and she heard a faint fizzling.

  She nurtured the embryonic flame as if it were a precious, mysterious deity, willing it to grow into a signal fire.

  The silence from his mobile phone attached to his belt gave Steve an ominous feeling as he followed Astra’s trail. No phone call meant Francey hadn’t been found, yet. The trail headed south-east from the creek and though the horse had rambled, grazing at night as it made its way towards water, the general direction was clear. South-east, not west. In Steve’s opinion, it was little wonder he hadn’t heard from Murrundi, they were searching in the wrong quadrant. Another half an hour and he’d call in, let them know the direction of the horse’s trail and his position.

  Ahead of him stood low foothills and the rocky outcrop simply known as the ravine. He had heard stories in town that a tribe of Aboriginals once lived there, and he knew about the cave paintings too, but hadn’t been inclined to visit the place. That’s where Astra’s trail was leading.

  As he rode his thoughts took him back to the first time he’d ventured out in the bush alone. He’d been nervous, he remembered that. After all it was an alien environment to a city person, even one who’d had a passing acquaintance with country life. Christ, Francey would be scared witless by now.

  A couple of kilometres closer he thought he saw something. Squinting, then staring hard he made out a wisp of smoke rising out of the ravine, clearly visible against the blue sky. He dug his heels into his horses flanks and urged it into a full gallop.

  Have to find more wood for the fire. Francey looked at the pile of branches she’d gathered. She blinked back the weariness and shook her head. It wasn’t enough to last all night. She rubbed her lips together, praying for a little moisture. None. A wave of dizziness worked its way down her body, through muscles that sagged with fatigue. She dropped the branch haphazardly onto the pile and jerked upwards. Can’t stop, got to find more, she thought.

  Steve saw her before she saw him. He reined in, bringing his horse and Astra to a steady lope. And for the first time in his life he said a prayer of thanks to a God he’d never had much time for. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed it. Francey was alive.

  He took the scene in. She had managed to get a fire going! A trail of smoke rose steadily towards the sky. She was gathering more supplies but the effort of doing so had cost her. He watched her stagger as she turned away from the fire to search for more fuel. Her beige sweater and her jeans were streaked with dirt, and her dark hair was in a tangle. A lopsided smile wreathed his angular features. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  Seeing her struggling to stay on her feet clarified a lot for him, both in his mind and more importantly in his heart. As he’d followed Astra’s trail across the plain his one all-encompassing thought had been of Francey and how when he found her he wouldn’t let her go. Despite his earlier reservations he now believed she was his present and his future. He loved her, he decided. It was as simple as that.

  “Francey.”

  Her slender length jerked upright and a frown crept across her forehead marring its smoothness. She ran a dry tongue around even drier lips and tried to concentrate but for hours all her energies had been trained on one task, finding more fuel to burn. She had to. But now … Her head tilted to one side, listening. Had she heard a voice? Slowly, hardly daring to hope and trying to control the sudden trembling, she twisted around.

  The smoke from the fire partially obscured what she was trying to see but she thought she could make out a horse and rider standing about two metres away. She pressed her fingers against her eyes and looked again. Still there. Maybe it was … “Natalie”? she croaked, her throat so dry she could barely articulate the word.

  Unlooping the water canteen from around the pommel of his saddle, Steve slid from the horse and ran towards her. He saw her eyes open wide in amazement as she recognised him and then, in an instant, the remaining strength went out of her. She began to slip towards the ground but he managed to catch her as her knees made contact with the earth.

  “Steve …” she whispered, “I …”

  “Don’t try to talk.” Easing her onto the ground he knelt back, placing her head on his thighs as a pillow. He wanted to kiss her but he contented himself with stroking her cheek and pushing the dark tendrils of hair back off her face. “Drink.” He put the canteen to her lips. “Just a little.”

  Francey tried not to gulp down the life-giving liquid. Never had water tasted so good! It dribbled down her chin onto her throat, onto her sweater — she didn’t care. She coughed and gagged as she swallowed too much at once.

  “Slow, now. There’s plenty. Too much too quickly and you’ll make yourself sick.”

  Francey nodded, understanding, as she stared up at him. She almost had to pinch herself to be sure she wasn’t hallucinating. Steve. Her Steve. Rescuing her. Her lips moved in a tremulous smile. Then, shakily, one of her hands rose to touch his face. Warm, a bit sweaty, a day’s growth of whiskers. Real. If she was dreaming she didn’t want to wake up. She wanted to ask so many questions. How had he known? Why had it taken so long to find her? Was Natalie all right?

  Steve saw the lines of exhaustion around her mouth and eyes. Even her breathing seemed shallow but he was sure she would be all right. He’d seen cases of dehydration before and thankfully hers didn’t appear severe. His gaze scouted the ravine, noting its high, sharp walls and lack of protection. Another day out here and … He clamped the thought down, cutting it off. He didn’t want to think about that. Looking up at the sky again he tried to calculate how much daylight remained. Maybe ninety minutes. He studied her again. Her hands held the canteen feebly and her eyes were opening and closing as she fought the exhaustion.

  There was no way she’d be able to ride back to Murrundi in this condition. Not today. Unless Les got the station’s helicopter here quickly. He had to let them know she’d been found. He frowned, puzzled. Something didn’t make sense and it niggled at the back of his mind. Why had Natalie said they’d been south-west when they’d clearly gone south-east? He pushed the question to the back of his mind, he’d deal with it later. First he’d make camp and get Francey settled. What she needed was liquid and rest, then something light to eat.

  “We’re going to have to stay here overnight,” he said. Her eyes opened and he saw the fear in them. He stroked her cheek. “It’ll be all right, we’ll be quite cosy.”

  “Wasn’t cosy last night. C-cold … The wind came up …” she managed, croakily.

  “Trust me,” he soothed. “It’ll be fine.”

  He zipped himself out of his leather jacket, folded it up and put it under her head. “Have some more water, Francey, then you should sleep while I set up camp. Okay?”

  She nodded, eyelids already closing.

  After twenty minutes of furious work they were set up for the night. He laid a groundsheet and the sleeping bag and lifted Francey into it without waking her. To keep the dew off and the cold at bay he’d stretched a nylon tarp over the bedding and anchored it around a spindly shrub and a large rock. Those tasks accomplished, he remounted and rode out of the ravine to make the call on his mobile.

  “I’ve found Francey and she’s okay,” he told Shellie.

  “Where?”

  “In the ravine where the cave paintings are. South-east of Browns Creek. Is Les back?”

  Shellie looked out the kitchen window to see the Learjet taxiing down the airstrip towards the hangar. “As we speak.”

  “If he can get the helicopter up straightaway, tell him to do so
. If I don’t hear it coming I’ll assume there’s a problem. I’ve made camp. We’ll stay here overnight and Les can pick us up in the morning.”

  “CJ’s very upset about all this. I…” she faltered, “I’ve never heard him in such a rage. He’ll want to talk to you, I’m sure.”

  “No can do in the ravine. The mobile won’t work there because of the height of the walls.”

  “But, Steve-”

  “Got to go, Shellie. I don’t want to leave Francey alone for too long. If she wakes up and I’m not there she might become frightened. I’ll call you at first light. Promise.”

  Lengthening shadows were creeping across the ravine’s floor as Steve made his way back to the camp. Francey hadn’t moved a muscle, she was really out to it. Good, that gave him time to prepare something to eat. No haute cuisine, that’s for sure. He went over to his bag of supplies and tipped everything out. Coffee, sugar and powdered milk. Dried vegetables, Spam, two onions, oil, a tin of tomatoes, chicken noodle soup, half a loaf of stale bread and a packet of one minute noodles. Yes, he could make something with that.

  “What do you mean, you can’t get the helicopter going?” CJ raged through the phone’s receiver at Les. “I want her back tonight. Yes, I know Steve said she was okay but she’s probably dehydrated. I want her back so a doctor can check her out.” His temper was out of control and he thumped his fist down on the top of his desk for extra emphasis.

  Natalie, creeping down the hallway, stopped near the partly open doorway of CJ’s study. A wave of disappointment rushed through her as she realised that Francey had been found, safe and well. Flattening her body against the wall, staying in the shadows, she listened.

  “Something in the fuel! Bloody hell, what’s going on here?”

  She smiled to herself, imagining Les’ colourful reply. He wouldn’t be bashful about stating his opinion. She had thought it a masterstroke to add water to the helicopter’s fuel tank and leave the top half open to make it look as if rainwater had got in. She knew just enough about helicopters to know that they would have to siphon all the fuel out and then refill it, which would take hours. She’d covered that angle in case Les got back in time to go searching today. Maybe she should have put sand in, but that would have looked deliberate and she’d been at pains to avoid suspicion of anything other than natural causes.

  But, she sighed with pure frustration, all her efforts to put a fear of the outback, of staying on at Murrundi into Francey’s head may have been wasted. She had ridden hell for leather out of the ravine, then had doubled back and hidden in a small cave she knew of. She had watched Francey peer about looking for her and had been hard-pressed not to laugh out loud. Then, evidently, Steve Parrish had come along and found Francey. She ground her teeth and her hands clenched into fists at her sides, the long fingernails digging into her palms in anger. She’d come so close to achieving her goal. Still, she tried to rationalise the situation, maybe what she had done was enough. She had given Francey one hell of a scare and that would possibly be sufficient to send her on her way … permanently.

  Damn Steve Parrish, damn the man to hell. After another warm day out in the ravine Francey would have been … well … a lot worse off, maybe too far gone to save.

  “All right,” CJ thundered, “I don’t care how long it takes to get it right, make sure you’re up at first light. I want her back for breakfast.”

  Natalie did a smart about-turn and returned to her bedroom. She closed the door and leant against it, thinking. Tomorrow there would be questions from Les and CJ and probably Steve Parrish. She had to make sure she had the story down pat.

  She had stumbled across desert plains where the earth had long ago cracked for want of water. So weak, she had been reduced to crawling centimetres at a time, until a tropical rainforest emerged out of nowhere — straight in front of her. With all that greenness there had to be water, and she desperately needed water. She cocked her head to one side and heard its lyrical liquid sound running over time-smoothed stones and submerged logs.

  Using a precious ounce of energy she ran her hand over her cracked lips and tried to swallow, but there was nothing to swallow. She crawled some more and stopped, panting, her heartbeat racing. She waited for the exhaustion which made her weakened muscles tremble to subside. The thought and sound of the water urged her on. Her hands were bleeding from small crisscross cuts from the rough ground but she had gone almost beyond feeling the pain. She just had a terrible need to drink and to replace the fluids the sun and wind and time had drained from her body.

  She raised her head, now she could see the waterfall. The body of water thundered a good fifty metres to the lake below and a spray, like a fine mist, hovered continuously about half a metre above the level of the water. She began to crawl towards it and seemed to make progress, but no matter how diligently she moved along the ground Francey couldn’t reach the life-giving liquid. It began to rain. She heard and saw fat raindrops fall on the leaves, on the ferns and through the high canopy of the trees, but none fell on her.

  To be so close to relief — to that which would prolong her life — but for it to remain out of reach so as to torture her. Always out of reach … And then she heard a woman laughing, the sound was maniacal and malicious and recognisable. Natalie!

  She woke with a start, her body jumping, her eyes popping open. Darkness surrounded her except for the steady glow of light somewhere close by. Disorientated she tried to remember where she was. Oh! She looked at the rocks around her, at the expanse of black sky with its stars winking knowingly and remembered. The ravine.

  “Well, Sleeping Beauty awakes.”

  Francey started at the sound of a male voice. She looked up and saw Steve Parrish studying her from his position on a nearby rock and remembered everything. Natalie’s horse bolting, being alone, scared, being so thirsty she thought she would die, and then Steve finding her. And, thank God, she didn’t feel thirsty any more.

  “Drink?” He handed her a mug. “It’s chicken noodle soup. Should warm you up.”

  She wriggled into a sitting position under the sleeping bag and took the mug. “Thank you.” She sipped slowly because it was hot and as she did so, another of her senses awoke. A delicious smell wafted across the air towards her. She realised how hungry she was and so did her empty stomach because it began a distinctive rumbling. She tried to ignore it. “I … I didn’t thank you … for finding me,” her tone was halting. “How did you?”

  “I was out camping, fossicking.” He grinned at her. “Your horse found me. I called Murrundi and they said you were missing. I followed Astra’s trail which led here.”

  She gave a hoarse laugh. “You make it sound so simple.”

  He shrugged. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” Secretly he wanted to know whether her account would match up with the story Shellie had given him.

  Her stomach continued to grumble and she upended the mug and drained it. Her mouth watered and her nostrils dilated at the aroma coming from the fire. “I’m starving, could we eat first?”

  “Sure, I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.” He moved down to the fire and began ladling his stewed concoction onto a plate. “Only have one plate,” he apologised as he handed it to her with a spoon. “I’ll eat my share out of the saucepan. Would you like coffee now or later?”

  “Later.” Francey looked at the plate. In a moment she would drool, which would be just too embarrassing. “Smells delicious.” She took a mouthful. “Tastes delicious.”

  He laughed. “You’d think anything was delicious after not having eaten for nearly thirty hours.”

  She shook her head. “No I wouldn’t, I’m fussy. My mamma taught me to appreciate good food from an early age, we Italians are like that.”

  After the ordeal she’d gone through Steve couldn’t believe her jocularity. She had been stranded, scared, thirsty and God knows what else, yet she’d bounced back as if what had happened to her was nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps, he thought, she didn
’t realise how close she’d come to becoming a statistic. One more day and she might have been just that. The thought scared him. He’d come close to losing her before he had the chance to tell her how he felt. Of course now wasn’t the appropriate time but he would later, when she got over this experience. Well, that would be another matter.

  “So, what’s in this marvellous concoction?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you really want to know?” She nodded. “Okay. When I go camping, just for a couple of days, I travel light so as not to weigh my horse down with supplies. The stew’s got onions and noodles, vegetables and Spam.” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “I’m saving the bread and beans for tomorrow’s breakfast.” His tone became serious, “The most important item to carry is water, enough for me and my horse, or to at least know where water can be found.” He looked up at the ravine walls. “Do you know there are probably pockets of water up there in rock pools from the last rain?”

  “I didn’t know that. You mean I could have climbed around and found water?”

  “The Aboriginals would know where to find it. You might have too but you might not. Especially if you didn’t know where to look. You could have fallen and hurt yourself as well.”

  “I’m glad you found me,” she said simply and sincerely.

  He reached across and touched her cheek. “Me too.” The temptation to take her in his arms and kiss away the fear and the bad memories was almost irresistible. She might look dishevelled and fatigued, but he’d never desired a woman more. And from the occasional thoughtful way she looked at him he sensed she was aware of something special blossoming between them. God, he hoped so.

  “I … I don’t think I would have survived another night out here alone.”

  He shook his head. “You would have.” He studied her as she ate. “One thing’s got me curious though. How on earth did you get that fire started without matches?” She told him and he whistled in admiration. “For a city slicker that’s not bad. Makes you a survivor in my book. I bet CJ will be impressed, you know he appreciates inventive people.”