The Man From Southern Cross

by Way, Margaret

  It was easier than he’d first expected. Even injured, Matt had excellent balance. They reached the oasis without incident. Secluded behind a ring of willowy acacias, spreading desert oaks and a stand of bauhinias with their radiant white butterfly flowers, the long winding pool was clear and deep, the water good to drink. He settled Matt beneath the canopy. A breeze was blowing, and it was getting much cooler now.

  “No foraging for food while I’m gone, Matt. Stay put.”

  “Right, Mont. I’m so sorry about everything.”

  “Serves you right for driving so damned recklessly. And don’t tell me you weren’t.”

  “It’ll never happen again, Mont.”

  “Well, life’s all about learning,” he said with a tolerance that surprised even him.

  He returned to the Honda and kicked the starter pedal. The engine fired and he roared off, the snarl of the bike shaking out a great flock of little white corellas that decorated the grotesque skeleton of a ghost gum. When he reached the crash site, Roishin was still sitting there, waiting. She seemed to be contemplating the sunset, which had faded from its early bold splendor to the luminescent pastels Annabel had tried to copy for her bridesmaids’ dresses.

  He parked the bike and moved toward her, extraordinarily edgy, perturbed by all the things that were happening to him. He couldn’t get this woman out of his mind. He longed for her, even though there was no place for her in his ordered world. Normally he kept himself on the tightest of rein, but her aura encircled him, growing stronger, more taut. Having to fight it made him moody and dangerous.

  “Matthew okay?” She looked neither weary not panicked, an enchanting serenity transparent in her face.

  He nodded. “You weren’t nervous?”

  “What’s there to be nervous about? I’ve been admiring nature in the wild. The light out here has the most incredible crystalline quality. The colors change dramatically all through the day.” She took the hand he extended, rising gracefully to her feet.

  He wanted to pull her close. He wanted to bend his head and kiss her mouth. Instead, he released her abruptly, stepping back. “So you’d be happy to stay in the wilderness?”

  She laughed and brushed off her hands. “I don’t think you’d catch me doing that. Not alone. Not yet. But I have a…a feeling of belonging.” She hesitated, as though reluctant for a moment to put it into words. “It’s like hearing music so beautiful it reduces me to tears.”

  He looked back toward her face, then off to the middle distance. If it was true for her, it was true for him. He felt, however briefly, a sense of absolute communication, one that he was unable—or unwilling—to acknowledge. “Well, your musicality is apparent,” he said in a near-dismissive tone. “Who told you to start up the coo-ees? Matt, I suppose?”

  “No.” She seemed surprised. “Matt needed a little time to come around. He took the brunt of the impact. You forget I’ve spent time on Southern Cross. I know the traditional bushman’s call.”

  He was determined to resist her pull. “Good for you,” he said crisply. “They led me to you. I could have wasted another half hour trying to track you down. You’ve got the best damned coo-ee I’ve ever heard.”

  “Can I quote you on that?” There was a dancing light of mischief in her eyes.

  “Of course.” Despite himself he smiled.

  “Well, thank you, David. So I’m not hopelessly unsuited to your domain, after all?”

  A few taut seconds ticked by as they stared at one another. Did she know his abrasiveness was merely a disguise for the way he was feeling? He frowned and turned away. “Not after today.” He glanced up at the sky, which had faded to an incandescent blue shot through with burnt orange. “Ever been on a motorbike before?” He began to move swiftly toward it.

  “Have I ever!” She almost had to run, but she managed to keep pace with him. “I have a friend with a Harley-Davidson. It’s his prized possession.”

  “Okay, so you know what to do.”

  “May I put my arms around you?” she teased.

  He looked down on her alluring face. “Stop trying to provoke meRoishin.”

  “What an exciting thought! Do you mind if I borrow your bandanna?”

  “Not at all.” He untied the red scarf around his neck and passed it to her, watching while she tied back her swirling hair.

  Like their morning gallop, the ride to the camp brought them exhilaratingly close. When they dismounted, it took an actual force of will for him not to encircle her narrow waist and swing her off her feet. While he scouted up food, Roishin built a fire. By the time he got back, the billy was boiling and Matthew was busy scoffing down shortbread biscuits with some well-sugared tea. It took an enormous weight off Mountford to know that they were coping well. He walked toward the golden circle of light, pouring his haul onto the rug.

  “You’ve found all this?” Roishin asked incredulously.

  He went down on his haunches. “Contrary to what most people believe, the desert is teeming with bush tucker. How do you think the aborigines survived? You’ll find these red berries delicious. They’re full of vitamin C. More so, in fact, than an orange. The mulga apples are quite pleasant, as well.”

  “Mont’s an authority on all this stuff,” Matt said, beginning to munch on a desert apple. “A few years back he rescued a couple of English tourists who ran out of water only a few miles from the station’s northwestern border. Kept ’em alive on bush tucker. They thought he was sent by God.”

  “And why not?” Roishin said simply, popping a few berries into her mouth. “You’re right! These are lovely—sweet, with a little tang.”

  “You’ll make a real bushie out of her yet, Mont,” Matthew grinned. “A lot of people don’t take to the wilderness like you have, Roishin. Some go into a real panic. They’re frightened of snakes, lizards, those huge goannas, scorpions, feral boars, wild camels. You name it. Mostly they’re frightened of the spirit of the place. The vastness and the silence. They find it too threatening. And, in a way, this place is the scariest of all—and the most beautiful. The Mountfords have stations all over, as you know, but there’s nowhere like Southern Cross. This is what Mont calls the beating heart. Our ancestral home.”

  “I understand why you love it,” Roishin said. “Its sheer size, its grandeur. It’s not like anywhere else.” She gave a sigh of contentment and tilted back her head. “The stars are coming out. Aren’t they marvelous? Nothing between us and them.”

  “There’ll be no moon tonight,” Mountford warned her. “Just the light from the camp fire.”

  “Shall I scream, David?” she asked airily. “Just so I won’t disappoint you?”

  “You won’t throw Mountford off balance,” Matt said with a roguish grin. “Women never do.”

  “Is he hostile toward women?”

  “I’ve never noticed it,” Matt laughed dryly. “Mont’s been voted one of the sexiest men in the country, haven’t you heard?”

  “Shut up, Matt,” Mountford said quietly.

  “I did see the magazine.” Roishin gave Mountford a charming smile. “Let me get you some tea, David. There should even be a shortbread biscuit if Matt hasn’t wolfed the lot.”

  “Not me, sweetheart.” Matt did his best Bogart voice and pushed what was left of the packet of biscuits onto the rug. “There’s a slab of chocolate, as well, Mont.”

  “How’s the pain?” Mountford asked, accepting a steaming mug of billy tea from Roishin.

  “Hurts like hell, but I’ll survive.”

  “That’s the right attitude, Matt. Never give in. Maybe before you turn in for the night, we’ll try you with a weak brandy to help you sleep. I’ll be off at first light. It’ll mean leaving you on your own for a few hours, but I should meet up with the rescue party about halfway.”

  Nothing, he observed, seemed to disconcert Roishin or shake her calm. Even when the lonely howls of the dingoes broke the silence, she seemed to find the sound just another facet of the desert environment. In the pleasant
warming glow from the fire it was easy to tell stories about Southern Cross, stories of station life—the funny, the interesting, the tragic. It was a surprisingly companionable time and the hours slipped by.

  Eventually he got Matt more painkillers and sometime later mixed him a weak brandy from the Jeep’s flask. He had brought the Jeep’s swag and a rug, and Roishin made Matt comfortable, her manner competent and comforting. Like an older sister. She settled him in his makeshift bed on the silvery white sand. It was thick and springy, not packed hard like the red sand around the claypans.

  Mountford built up the fire for warmth, and it wasn’t long before Matt drifted off.

  Roishin checked on him and caught Mountford’s eye. “Let’s hope he sleeps. He must be in quite a bit of pain.”

  He nodded his agreement. “Matt’s tough. But he has to stop taking risks. I’ll bet he took you bouncing across the scrub. It simplifies matters if you try to keep to the recognized tracks. The spinifex clumps are massive after the rains, and you might expect the occasional hidden stump. The particular area where you were driving is full of hazards. You were lucky.”

  “Yes, I know. We both had some frightening moments when Matt lost control of the wheel. He didn’t panic, though. He kept his head.”

  “As did you. You’ve behaved very coolly.”

  “Women are capable, David.” She lay back on the rug, looking up at the brilliantly blossoming stars. “The night sky out here is enthralling. It must be the pure air. I’ve never seen so many stars. Billions of them! They’re so big and bright…” She gestured toward the sky. “Tell me about them, David.”

  Suddenly he felt utterly relaxed. He eased his tall frame back. “The night sky is the subject for innumerable aboriginal myths and legends. There are thousands of them associated with the moon and stars. Strangely enough, the moon is the man and the sun is the woman. Birth and death are always associated with Meen the moon man. If a woman wishes to become pregnant, she stares up at the moon. If she doesn’t want a child, she’s careful not to do any moon-gazing. Aboriginal children are taught that the moon is dangerous. It doesn’t like to be stared at.”

  “I hope the stars don’t feel the same way. The Southern Cross is outstanding tonight.”

  He nodded and put his hands behind his head. “It always is over the station. The desert nomads believe the constellation is the footprint of the great wedge-tailed eagle. The stars of the cross, Alpha and Beta Centauri, are great ancestor figures. The Scorpio constellation originated as two lovers who broke tribal law. Orion spends most of his time making illicit advances to the Seven Sisters, the Pleiades. The Milky Way is the sea of light every spirit must travel to find its way home.”

  “I’d like to be married under the desert stars,” she said.

  “Then you’d better marry me.”

  “Is that a proposal, David?”

  “Not to be taken seriously. For both our sakes.”

  “Why do you say that?” She moved when he hadn’t expected her to, propping herself on one elbow and staring down at him.

  “You’re an exceedingly dangerous woman.”

  “You want to believe that,” she accused him.

  “I do.”

  “Can’t you tell me why?”

  He reached up to release his bandanna from her long hair. It fanned out immediately, spilling around her face and shoulders.

  “Women like you know how to make a man suffer.” His voice had dropped to a soft growl, and his fingers of their own accord encircled her slender neck.

  “What are you trying to do to me, David?” she asked simply. She seemed so very direct and honest. “Are you trying to strangle me with my own hair?”

  He tugged on a thick strand until her face was poised directly above his. “You have the most beautiful mouth.”

  She stared back at him with intensity. “There’s such a contrast between what you say and what you do! It’s very, very odd.”

  He laughed gently. “I’ll tell you something odder. I want to make love to you. It’s a good thing Matt’s on the other side of the fire.”

  “You’re taking it for granted I’d let you?” she challenged.

  “You wouldn’t?”

  “You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you, David Mountford?”

  “This is something I can’t help.”

  The firelight flickered on her lovely face, revealing a certain inner tuoil. “And you’re finding it intolerable? This…attraction you feel?”

  The tips of his fingers traced her jawline. “No woman is going to rule my life. I like to be in control.” Easy enough to say even though his desire for her was a furious white flame. Some of it must have shown in his eyes, because she trembled visibly. “Come down here, Roishin, and relax. I’m not going to touch you.”

  “I think you’d do anything when the mood’s on you.”

  “Never by force.”

  “Why would you need it?” she asked almost bleakly. “After all, you can have any woman you want.”

  “I want you,” he said wryly. “And it’s making my life hell.”

  His words seemed to hurt her, shot through as they were with self-derision and hostility.

  “David, what you’re saying doesn’t make sense…” Her voice trailed off helplessly.

  “As a matter of fact, it does. To me.”

  “Has it got something to do with your background? Your past?”

  “Let’s look at the stars, Roishin. I’m not going to lie here being psychoanalyzed.” With a single movement he had her down beside him. A mistake. A flood of electricity flowed from her slender body to his. It was anguish. It was unbearable. It was madness and he didn’t give a damn. “Stay here with me. It’s warmer.”

  “My God, David!”

  He moved his head so his mouth could graze her cheek. “I want to hold you in my arms.” He sighed heavily. “I must be falling to pieces.”

  “There’s a chink in your armor.”

  “A lot of good it’ll do you, Roishin.” He spoke sarcastically, but the blood was surging in his veins. “Have you ever cheated on a man?”

  “I’ve never lived with one or told one I loved him, so the answer’s no. But you, on the other hand—I’ve been told you’ve never been short of girlfriends. You must have broken quite a few hearts.”

  “If I have, it doesn’t make me feel good. But what’s to be done, Roishin? I’m a man like any other. I enjoy women. Their strength and their wisdom. I like to talk to them. I don’t think I’ve deliberately hurt anyone. What more could you want?”

  “Are you telling me you’ve never been in love?”

  “You’ve just figured it out?” he asked acidly.

  “You must have been a tragic child.”

  “How touching of you to think so.”

  “My mother is a divorce lawyer. Did you know that?”

  “I’ve heard it mentioned,” he said dryly, turning h head so he could gaze at her profile.

  “She encounters a lot of grief in the family courts. Human beings are capable of doing tremendous damage to one another. Love turns to hate, or love and hate coexist. The most damage is done to the children. They suffer dreadfully from marriage breakups. Mostly the pain stays with them all their lives. As for the parents, there can be degrees of guilt on both sides. My mother has been discussing her cases with me for years now. Not the worst ones, the truly ugly ones, when I was younger, but I know a good deal about the subject. My own area is litigation, as you know. That can be fairly distressing at times, but nothing touches the family courts for trauma.”

  “Roishin, you’re not telling me anything I don’t know.” He spoke with cool precision.

  “Of course not. You’ve experienced it all firsthand.”

  He felt like a tinderbox about to explode, but he kept his tone cold. “I told you I’ve put the past behind me.”

  “I don’t think that’s true, David. A famous writer once said something like, ‘The past isn’t dead; it isn’t even past.’
”

  “Brilliant!”

  “Don’t be angry.” She gave him a gentle pleading look.

  “That’s a tall order, Roishin. I’m not about to bare my soul or disclose any long-buried secrets, if that’s what you’re after.”

  “Actually I was thinking more of myself,” she said mildly. “You don’t deny a certain attraction, yet you’re battling an aversion to my physical type.”

  “You could be right.” He answered with extreme irony.

  “The other thing is, I’ve met your mother.”

  “What?” The word shot out with such a hard ring he turned his head to check that he hadn’t disturbed Matt. He hadn’t.

  “It’s a small world,” Roishin was saying quietly. “Lady Vandenberg, as well as being the wife of an important man, is an important person in her own right. She’s served with my mother on several committees. In fact, they’ve become quite friendly. I’ve met Lady Vandenberg many times.”

  “How very interesting,” he drawled, aware that his expression was cold and tight. “How come Annabel or Van have never told me?”

  “They know your views on the subject. I understand your mother’s name is never mentioned.”

  “And you find that shocking?” he asked in an attacking voice. “Are you quite sure you understand what happened, counselor, or are you putting me on trial? My mother left Southern Cross twenty-four years ago of her own free will. There was a huge scandal that devastated my father and upset the whole Mountford clan. My mother’s conduct was shameful, impossible to condone. She broke her marriage vows and she abandoned her only child. That’s my finding. If she finally found hocking?ss with Eric Vandenberg, well and good. I want no part of her, and I especially don’t want to hear what a wonderful person she is now. So far as I’m concerned, charity begins at home.”

  She studied the stars in silence, then she said, “You’re very bitter, David.”