‘It took Dad over ten years. I’d like to think he’d been committed to his recovery when he and Mum went on their trip to Tasmania.’
‘That’s a good thought to hold on to.’
From his friendship with Cressy he knew that it had been on this trip that their parents’ rental car had collided with a logging truck and they’d never made it home.
‘I think so.’
Fliss looked away as the road ahead forked but not before sadness dulled her eyes. As angry as she was, she clearly still missed her father.
Hewitt followed the driveway to the front of the house. Beneath the shade of a cedar tree, a blue ute was parked next to Denham’s white Land Cruiser. Over in the machinery shed Cressy’s seen-better-days ute was positioned beside the farm Hilux. Two dogs bounded across the plush lawn and bolted through the open garden gate.
‘Brace yourself.’ Fliss firmed her grip on the container that held her muffins. ‘Here comes the welcoming committee.’
She left the passenger seat and a black kelpie, her muzzle sprinkled with grey, slid to a stop in front of her.
‘Hello, Miss Tippy.’ Fliss tickled behind the kelpie’s ears. ‘Juno hasn’t driven you to drink yet?’
Even as Fliss spoke, a young liver-brown dog planted her paws on the back of Fliss’s legs and yipped. The kelpie-poodle-cross’s excitement was only matched by the fluffiness of her thick coat.
Fliss laughed as she glanced over her shoulder. ‘Yes, Juno. I know you’re there. Just let me finish saying hello to Tippy.’
While Fliss patted Juno, Tippy sidled over to Hewitt for a pat.
‘I hope those rodeo cows of Denham’s are behaving themselves,’ he said, stroking Tippy’s neck as she leaned against his legs. A loud screech drowned out his words before a white cockatoo swooped from the top of a nearby gum tree to land on the roll bar of his ute. The cockatoo then flew onto Fliss’s shoulder.
She ruffled Kevin’s yellow crest. ‘Were you watching us drive in?’
‘He would have been.’ Cressy approached with a wide smile. The hem of her simple white dress brushed the tops of her pink cowgirl boots. ‘He squawked as soon as you crossed the cattle grid. It still amazes me he can hear a car coming even before the dogs do.’
Kevin stayed perched on Fliss’s shoulder while the sisters hugged.
Hewitt looked away, his throat raw. With his brother gone, not a day passed when he didn’t feel like a part of him was missing. They’d gone away to school together, attended the same university to study agriculture and come home to run the family farm. They’d been a team until Hewitt had made a decision that changed everything. Guilt knifed inside. What he hadn’t told Fliss was that his role in Brody’s death had started long before his twin strapped himself onto that devil of a bull.
Chest tight, he collected the bottle of red wine from the ute. When he faced Fliss and Cressy, he didn’t miss Fliss’s gaze sweep over his face. Just like on the day he arrived he had the sense she was reading him like he’d read the horses and bulls in the rodeo arena.
Cressy stepped forwards to hug him. ‘I’m so glad you came. The boys are out the back on barbeque duty. I had them start cooking before they disappeared into the shed to do whatever you men do over there.’
Hewitt returned her hug. ‘I’ll go and supervise. I know what Denham can do to a steak. He believes it’s only cooked if it resembles leather.’
‘Thank you. Tell Denham if he sneaks Tippy and Juno another sausage he can explain to Ella why they’re looking so fat. Last vet visit there was talk of boot camp.’
Hewitt made his way through the colourful spring garden to the back of the homestead where a pergola shaded an entertainment area. As he rounded the corner, he inhaled the strong scent of grilled onion and meat.
Denham and Tanner stood around a barbeque. Both turned as his boots rang on the stone pavers.
Denham reached into the ice-filled esky beside him. ‘Perfect timing.’ He handed Hewitt a cold beer. ‘Steaks are almost done.’
‘Thanks. If they taste half as good as they smell I’m lining up for thirds.’
Denham grinned. ‘I’m taking all the credit. All Tanner’s done is drink my beer.’
‘No, I haven’t. I’ve fed Tippy and Juno sausages so technically it wasn’t you feeding them.’
Hewitt placed the bottle of wine beside the vase of white roses in the centre of the table. ‘Cressy knows exactly what you two are up to.’
Denham sighed and placed his empty beer bottle in a box beside the barbeque. ‘There’s no getting anything past her.’ The pride and love in his tone contradicted his aggrieved expression.
Tanner added his empty beer bottle to the box. ‘I’ll take one for the team and do a drinks run.’ Grin wide, he headed inside.
Wings flapped as Kevin flew overhead towards the horse paddock. Ignoring the buckskin that lifted his head to glare at him, the cockatoo perched on the cement trough and dipped his beak into the water.
Denham turned the sausages. ‘I’d never thought I’d say this, but I think Bandit’s met his match. I’m sure Kevin only drinks from that trough to tick him off.’
The bad-tempered gelding had once been a buck jumper and even now Denham was the only rider he’d let stay in the saddle.
Hewitt stared at the beer in his hand. There had been another time when Bandit had met his match. A time when he and his horse Garnet had been riding pickup. A time before all colour had been stripped from Hewitt’s world. A time when Bandit would explode into the arena, throw his rider, and Garnet, with her brave, fearless heart, would know exactly what to do to make sure Bandit gave Hewitt no trouble.
‘How’s Garnet doing?’ Denham asked quietly, as though reading his mind.
‘Physically she’s fine. Her injuries have healed but …’ His voice trailed away. He couldn’t say that until he rode her neither of them would have truly healed.
Denham clasped Hewitt’s right shoulder. ‘I have no doubt you and Garnet will be a team again. That’s what being at Bundara’s all about.’
Tanner returned with a six-pack of beer and passed one to Denham.
Hewitt touched beers with Denham and then Tanner before he took a swallow. ‘Bumped into Edna lately?’ he asked the drover.
‘No, only because I haven’t been to town. I figured seeing Edna three weeks in a row was enough.’
Denham used tongs to place the steaks and sausages onto an oval platter. ‘You’re a braver man than I am for visiting town at all knowing Edna thinks you’re Bethany’s perfect match.’
Tanner’s blue eyes twinkled. ‘Thanks to Hewitt here, I might soon lose the title. Edna seemed very impressed when Hewitt put her back in her box after her nosiness got the better of her.’
Denham’s dark brows lifted. ‘Hewitt, you didn’t … There’s nothing Edna likes more than a strong man. I’ve taken to being a wuss round her. It’s yes, Edna, no, Edna, three bags full, Edna.’
‘We know,’ Hewitt said, while Tanner laughed. ‘She thinks you’ve gone soft.’
The back door closed with a bang as Cressy and Fliss joined them, their arms filled with bowls of salads. Hewitt moved forwards to help Fliss as the tomato sauce bottle pinned beneath her elbow threatened to fall.
‘Something must be funny,’ she asked, voice curious. ‘Or you’ve all already had too many beers on an empty stomach.’
‘I don’t think there’s any danger of that happening for Denham and Tanner.’ Cressy eyed off the platter of steaks and sausages. ‘There’s no way Tippy and Juno have eaten nine sausages, even if they are now asleep in their kennels with very round tummies.’
As more laughter rippled around them, Fliss went to kiss Denham on the cheek and give Tanner a hug. Ever since Fliss had mentioned Tanner could take her to Cressy’s, a strange emptiness had filled Hewitt. He took a swig of beer to hide his relief that their embrace appeared casual. They were just friends.
After seats were taken, wine poured and the steaks and salads heaped on
to plates, the conversation turned to the dog Fliss had seen.
‘I’m sure it was a border collie, a long-haired one,’ she said as she looked across at Cressy. ‘But your calves will be okay. Hewitt’s keeping a close watch over them. There’s four now and this morning when we drove around there was one that had just been born.’
Hewitt’s hold on his fork tightened as Denham studied him. Cressy wasn’t the only one who didn’t miss anything. Denham understood him too well. He knew Hewitt had gone to Bundara for solitude, not to socialise. He also knew Hewitt didn’t ever do anything he didn’t want to do. No amount of buckle-bunny cleavage had ever distracted either of them on the rodeo circuit.
Tanner spoke and Hewitt’s grip on his fork eased when Denham’s attention turned to the drover. ‘If it’s just one dog hanging around, it might not be feral. It could have been dumped or be a pigging dog that’s been left behind. Although, a long-haired border collie isn’t the usual pig dog breed.’
Denham nodded. ‘It could have been stolen. It isn’t only fuel and quad bikes going missing lately, dogs are too, especially from in town. Ella’s neighbour lost a staffie from their backyard. The gate padlock had been cut, the dog stolen and the three smaller dogs let out.’
Cressy sighed. ‘Between people wanting money for drugs, or trespassing to hunt pigs, nowhere seems to be off limits. You be careful out at Bundara, Fliss. You’re a long way out there.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Fliss glanced at Hewitt. ‘We’ll be fine, won’t we?’
Hewitt fought to keep his expression neutral. The way she included him shouldn’t mean so much. He avoided Denham’s gaze as he replied, ‘Yes, we will.’
The conversation moved on to Reggie’s calves and how Cressy still wasn’t convinced that the bull she’d rescued as a calf could ever breed offspring mean enough to be bucking bulls. The resulting stories about bulls behaving badly continued through to dessert and until the pavlova topped with passionfruit and cream had disappeared.
Cressy pushed back her chair. ‘Now before you boys reach for another beer and get too comfortable reminiscing about the good ol’ days when you were supermen, I’ve some boxes to move down from the attic.’
Fliss came to her feet. She glanced at Hewitt’s shoulder before she collected the empty plates near her. ‘The attic isn’t big enough for three cowboys to clomp around in. Hewitt, I’ve a special job for you.’
‘Sure.’
He stood and reached for the large pavlova plate. He’d be a fool to read anything into her concern. She was looking out for him like she’d do for any patient. She was making sure he wouldn’t lift any boxes, however light.
‘Let me guess, it involves getting my hands wet,’ he said as he followed, catching a faint scent of gardenia.
She stopped to wait for him on the veranda step. Laughter danced in her eyes and curved her lips.
‘Not if you wear Cressy’s pretty pink dishwashing gloves.’
CHAPTER
5
Fliss might have arrived home from Cressy’s barbeque two hours ago, but she was still wide awake.
A loose flap of iron banged for a second time. The door of the garden shed must have blown open again. She really needed to use bricks to secure it closed. She kicked off the heavy bedcovers. Until it stayed shut, she’d have no hope of unwinding.
The polished jarrah wood floorboards chilled her bare feet as she crossed the room to pull an old university rugby jersey over her tank top and pyjama shorts. As she made her way to the kitchen for a torch the shed door bashed again.
In the city she’d had no trouble sleeping through sirens and fire alarms but now she needed complete silence to relax. Even the cheerful chirp of a cricket stressed her strung-out system. She wasn’t proud she’d taken to standing outside her window and using the sole of her ugg boot to discourage crickets from taking up residence in the crevices of the bluestone blocks.
Once on the veranda she pulled on her boots. She straightened to massage her right temple. The speed of her thoughts said it wasn’t just the flapping tin keeping her awake. A thin stream of light escaped from beneath a blind from over in the stables. The main reason she couldn’t sleep was also awake.
She switched on the torch and followed the pool of strong light. Tonight she’d stuck to her ground rules. But even in the company of others, she’d been hyper aware of her cowboy neighbour. Of his slow smile, and the way he’d look at her across the table, giving her his full attention. Of the deep, husky tone of his laughter as he’d tried to fit Cressy’s pink rubber glove onto his large hand.
She’d glimpsed the man he’d been before he carried the burden of his brother’s death. And her mind just wouldn’t let the images fade. Grave and silent, Hewitt was gorgeous. But relaxed and sociable, he was unforgettable.
She didn’t know if it was his quiet strength or the steadiness of his grey stare, but something within him spoke to something within her. She felt at ease around him. He was a man who’d stand firm, whatever life threw at him, and he’d do so with humility and integrity. There’d be no ego, or grandstanding. Secure in who he was, and what he was capable of, he didn’t have anything to prove. No wonder he was a pickup rider. In a crisis he’d head towards trouble, never away from it.
The branches of the cedar tree swayed and the open garden shed door caught in the wind. She stepped forwards to catch it before it slammed shut. A scrape from inside the shed had her lift her torch higher. Had the shingleback returned?
She shone the light through the narrow doorway. Her breath hissed. It wasn’t a lizard whose large eyes caught in the white beam, but a black-and-white dog. Fliss swung the torchlight towards the ceiling and readied herself to quickly back away. This had to be the dog she’d seen.
But when the border collie didn’t move or growl, Fliss lowered the torchlight. The dog had pulled the canvas lawnmower cover to the ground to lie on and tucked against her side were six tiny bodies.
‘You’re a clever mamma finding the warm and dry shed to have your babies in.’ The dog stared at her, silent and unmoving. ‘I think Tanner’s right. You’re not feral or wild. If you were, I’d have a few bite marks by now and be needing a tetanus shot.’
The dog’s tension seemed to ebb and she lowered her head to lick the nearest pup.
Fliss glanced over her shoulder at the stables. It was too late to call Cressy or Ella about what she should do for the dog and her pups tonight. She was used to problem-solving on her own. But common sense told her Hewitt would possess the practical experience she wouldn’t find in any online how-to article.
She headed to the stables, turning her torch off as the sensor light clicked on. This time she didn’t even raise her hand to knock before the door swung open.
‘Fliss, is everything okay?’
She didn’t know if it was the concern edging Hewitt’s husky tone or that all he wore was a pair of low-slung jeans, but her words refused to leave her throat.
She was a doctor. She knew the name of every corded muscle wrapped within Hewitt’s smooth, tanned skin. She knew the function of every toned tendon caressed by the strong outdoor light. But never had the sight of a man’s body made it impossible for her to focus or to think.
Her fingers curled tight around the torch handle. So much for being sceptical about sparks and physical chemistry. The desire to run her fingertips over the hard-packed planes of Hewitt’s torso unsettled her. Her life was already out of control enough without her hormones running wild.
Cheeks too hot, she forced herself to speak. ‘Yes, everything’s fine. We have an unexpected guest.’
The intensity in Hewitt’s eyes didn’t dim. The tight, carved lines of his body were tense, ready for the age-old fight response to any threat.
‘An unexpected snake guest?’
‘No, an unexpected border collie guest. The dog I saw this morning is in the garden shed … and she’s had puppies.’
‘Puppies?’
Fliss fought to keep her attention
on his face and not on the curl of his biceps as he rubbed his chin. ‘Yes, six tiny newborn puppies.’
Hewitt swung away. ‘I’ll throw on a shirt and grab the leftovers in the fridge.’
‘Okay. I’ll get the other things we’ll need from the house.’
Fliss turned before she’d finished speaking. She’d seen enough. The back view of Hewitt was just as impressive as the front. If she was going to get any sleep tonight she didn’t need to know how well defined his wide shoulders were or how his tan disappeared beneath the low waistband of his jeans.
Her arms filled with soft towels and two large bowls, Fliss joined Hewitt outside the garden shed. The sensor light from the stables threw a pale wash of light over the lawn. Hewitt had pulled on a grey T-shirt but the thin cotton only accentuated the well-honed ridges beneath.
A container holding what looked like beef casserole sat by his boots. A pair of bricks now ensured that the shed door stayed open. She sat her armload of items on the ground before carefully shining her torch inside. Hewitt’s arm brushed hers as he took a look at the dog gazing back at them. She remained still before her tail moved in a tentative wag.
‘Hey, gorgeous girl.’ Fliss glanced at Hewitt’s profile as he spoke. His voice had the same tender, deep timbre as when he spoke about the twins. ‘You’ve been living rough, haven’t you?’
His gaze swept over the dog and Fliss sensed him assessing her just like she evaluated a patient.
He moved into the shed. ‘This isn’t your first litter, is it?’ He spoke quietly as he approached. ‘You’ve done this all before. You’ve also once trusted us humans as you’ve chosen to have your puppies here.’
This time when the border collie wagged her tail, the gesture was more certain. Hewitt slowed his steps as he drew near. The dog whined and lifted her head as though seeking his touch. He moved closer to stroke her ears.
‘She’s definitely not a feral dog.’ Hewitt’s words were just loud enough for Fliss to hear. ‘But no sign of a collar and she needs a decent meal. By the looks of her, and these pups, they’re purebred border collies.’
The Red Dirt Road Page 6
