An Outback Affair/Runaway Wife/Outback Bridegroom/Outback Surrender/Home To Eden (26 page)

“Hell, Snowy, we've done our damnedest to corner him. Are you saying we should let him go?” Mitch's reply had an edge of exasperation, particularly as he was arriving at the same conclusion.

“Uneasy, boss.” Snowy smiled grimly. “This guy a rogue. Look at da eyes. There's a debbil in them eyes.”

“I agree.” Christine's gaze was fixed on the stallion and his menacing attitude.

“He's aggressive, all right,” Mitch muttered, knowing the stallion was trouble but loath to let him go free. “You don't reckon you could tame him, Snowy?” Snowy was a marvellous horse-handler. None better.

“Concerned him no good, boss. Could be a killer.”

Christine spoke quietly. “Let him go, Mitch. I've got a bad feeling about this one.”

That infuriated Jack Cody. “Bugger that!” he exploded, throwing Christine a look that said women were useless except for one thing. “If Snowy can't break him, I can.”

Mitch wheeled Zena around, staring at the overseer. Jack had not been his choice. His father had appointed him. “I don't think I care for the prospect of your breaking him, Cody. I'm sure the
stallion wouldn't like it either. We've got a bit of a problem here, though. Lightning is becoming a real menace. We can't possibly fence in our station horses. They're used to roaming a huge area. But I won't lose the two station mares.”

“Why don't we collect them?” Christine suggested, riding quietly to Mitch's right. “Lightning will burn himself out.”

“What would a woman know about horses?” Jack Cody challenged, eyes bright with male hostility. Clearly his blood was up. He made no effort to hide the fact he was disappointed with the turn of events.

“Probably twice as much as you.” Mitch's swift change in demeanour instantly reminded the overseer who was boss. “Miss Reardon is as knowledgeable as any of us. She was reared on Wunnamurra. You might start to apologise.”

Cody, keyed up, had not known exactly who Christine was, beyond one of the great Mitch Claydon's girlfriends. He immediately backed down, aware he had overstepped the mark. “Of course, I do apologize. I didn't realise, Miss Reardon.”

Christine shrugged, said nothing, but Mitch spoke pointedly. “You didn't notice how she can ride?” He turned away pointedly. “So you're saying we give up on Lightning, Snowy?”

Snowy's perfect white teeth showed in a gri
mace. “I'm nervous about 'im, boss. He might break somebody's skull.”

“He looks like he wants to do it now,” Christine said uneasily, eyeing the haughty animal with a hollow chill. “He's impressive-looking, but there's something about his stare. There's a lot of violence in it.”

Mitch ran a hand up over his golden-skinned face. “He's a wild horse. A tough, strong wild horse. But, yes, he does look a touch demented.”

“Why don't you just let me rope him?” Jack Cody suggested, a veteran of more than a few rodeos. He tensed for rejection, thinking he could take the stallion whenever he wanted.

“I think you might finish up a casualty, Jack,” Mitch said, knowing Cody had taken a bad fall at the last Darwin rodeo but unprepared to embarrass him.

“So this whole exercise has been a waste of time?” Cody couldn't contain his frustration. Who would have ever thought bigshot Claydon was a wimp?

“Him gotta bad spirit,” Snowy observed, his long dark fingers stroking his chin.

Christine shot a quick look at the aboriginal elder, wondering whether Snowy was referring to Cody or the brumby. Maybe both.

“I reckon we don't want 'im boss. Good looker, but fulla vice. Let's look for the mares and foals. Pick 'em up.”

The stallion was still displaying boldly, warning the riding party that this was his territory and to back off.

“If I can ride him home can I have him?” Cody let his tone match his inner bravado. “You know my reputation. I'm a really good rough rider.”

“That horse could kill you, Jack,” Mitch said. “He's never been handled. Now that we're seeing him up close, surely he looks unrideable to you, therefore valueless to the station. He won't make a good work horse after all, which was what this chase was all about.”

Mitch provided the cool voice of reason, but Cody was as touchy as the stallion. His pride was on the line and he found himself wanting very badly indeed to impress the woman. She was beautiful and much more. Few would think to argue with Mitchell Claydon, but Cody wasn't entirely in control of himself—hadn't been from the first moment he'd laid eyes on Christine.

“He might surprise yah. Let me see if I can get a lasso over his head. I know as much about horses as any man on the station,” Cody boasted, though it was far from the truth. Mitch was a superb horseman and Snowy was a renowned “breaker”. “Horses have gotta respect humans,” Cody said, alarming them all by suddenly producing a rope already noosed at one end. He rocked in the stirrups, then threw it while the rest
of the party moved their mounts swiftly to the walls of the canyon.

“God Almighty!” Mitch was staggered by the overseer's actions, with so much potential danger for them all. “Back up further, Chris!” he yelled, his heart in his throat as he glimpsed her off to the right.

Incredibly the rope passed over the stallion's neck first time, but then all hell broke loose. The choking down process Cody had thought to accomplish to render the stallion either unconscious from lack of air or weak enough to fall to its knees, failed badly. The stallion was just too powerful. He objected violently to this ploy, thrashing his head from side to side in terror, eyes rolling whitely, so strong and heavily muscled Cody's horse was no match for it in the tussle. The station horse's sturdy legs were unable to sustain the weight of the stallion.

“Drop the rope, you bloody fool,” Mitch shouted to Cody. “Get out of the way. That's an order.”

But Cody, whose major fault was trying to impress women, was hell-bent on showing his skills. Not only that, he was terrified to let go in case the stallion—who was showing no sign of buckling, despite the noose being pulled tighter and tighter—bolted right at him in a mad panic to escape.

There was nothing for it, Mitch thought with
cold fury, feeling his heart pound in reaction. Christine, his main concern, was offside, but there was no telling if the stallion would run straight at Cody or execute a series of maddened manoeuvres in his frenzy to escape. He couldn't begin to think of Christine hurt. Bloody, bruised and trampled. Cody, the arrogant bastard, had lost his senses.

Out of the corner of his eye Mitch saw Snowy too had his rope at the ready, waiting for the precise moment. Snowy never missed. Neither did he, but the stallion was as frightening an animal as Mitch had ever seen, and he'd seen plenty.

Even now he was kicking ferociously with both hind legs. If he didn't do something fast someone was going to get killed. As it was, the stallion looked as if he was going to smash right into the foolhardy Cody, or even attempt to go over him. Violence met with greater violence. It was obvious Cody couldn't cope. He was losing his nerve and his brave stockhorse was sliding further and further towards the lethal brumby.

The decision made, Mitch wasted little time. He found his rifle and dropped the stallion with a single shot, just at the critical moment. The sharp crack billowed out over the canyon, making the walls ring. The stallion's once powerful legs buckled under it as it fell dead to the sand.

Christine curled her arms around her body, her fists clenched so tightly her fingers seemed
locked. Every one of them had faced the possibility of being injured, perhaps killed.

Cody, the cheeks of his narrow face turned concave, fell from the saddle, belly-flopping on the sand. “I just hope you realise what you did here this afternoon.” Mitch stood over him, his voice deathly quiet when he really felt like raining blows on the fool. “I don't believe a man of your experience could be so incredibly stupid. What you did was criminal and against orders. The decision was to back off. You put us all at risk. What makes it more unforgivable is we have a woman with us.”

Cody tried to sit up but flopped back, his legs shaking, his arms feeling as if they'd been pulled out of their sockets. Finally, with Claydon still standing over him, he stumbled to his feet, his hazel eyes mere slits in the sun. “I've never come across a brumby so strong or so savage,” he defended himself, sounding shocked. “It's just not normal.”

“You got that right!” Mitch said with some contempt. “What's not normal either is your lack of good sense. That horse could have killed someone on its way to freedom.” Even so Mitch, like the others—all genuine horse-lovers, which Cody was not—found it distressing to see Lightning with his life snuffed out.

“You'd better ride back,” Mitch told Cody curtly, wondering why the hell his father hadn't
checked on this man's record. Why he himself hadn't either, for that matter, but they'd both trusted Leo Hendricks, Cody's late boss. “We all know about danger,” he said through gritted teeth. “We face it time and again, but we have to exercise good judgement—not willingly and deliberately expose others to terrible trouble. That makes you a liability. How come Hendricks never said anything about that?”

“I've never been such a fool before.” Cody pressed a hand to his swollen shoulder. He had very rapidly cooled down. Now he felt the rebuke like the sting of a whip.

He realized immediately he had lost his job. He had, in fact, been surprised when he'd got it. Hendricks's recommendation had been on the generous side. Worse would follow if he were fool enough to tangle with Mitch Claydon. The father was one thing; the son quite another. But he liked to think he might have an opportunity for revenge some time in the future. Claydon had made a fool of him in front of the woman, he thought bitterly. That struck him as unacceptable.

Still, he wasn't a complete fool. Cody pretended remorse. “Thanks, boss, you saved me.” He looked directly at Claydon, feigning a humble look. “Apologizing won't do much good. What's done is done. But I'm left with the bad feeling I put you all at risk. Especially you, Miss
Reardon.” He touched the side of his wide-brimmed hat.

Christine nodded, but she had the odd sensation Cody wasn't feeling remorseful at all. As far as she was concerned there was something feral in that handsome narrow face.

J
ULANNE
was aghast at what might have happened. “You know what to do, Mitch. You have to sack him. That wasn't any kind of bravery; that was criminal stupidity.”

Mitch looked out over the vast uninterrupted vistas from the homestead verandah, so used to his way of life he didn't often consider how privileged he was to own so much land. “How the heck did Dad hire him in the first place?” he queried, as if he didn't understand. He was sitting opposite his mother in one of the ten or more white wicker armchairs scattered along the front verandah, waiting for Christine to shower and change. He'd already washed up, but his mood was still edgy.

Julanne screwed up her face. “Well, Leo's a pal—some pal! But I had a feeling about Cody. He's strong and he's shown himself to be capable. He's always acted in a proper manner when he's come up to the house, but there's something about his eyes. There's no light in them.”

“I didn't enjoy his reaction to Christine.”
Mitch bit down on his anger, his own sparkling gaze suddenly steely.

“In what way?” Julanne turned to stare at her son with open concern.

“He couldn't stop looking at her,” Mitch said in a jaundiced tone. “But he was all innocence when I intercepted his stare.”

Julanne visibly relaxed. “You can hardly blame him for looking, dear. Christine is simply stunning. Your own father admits he can't take his eyes off her.”

Mitch downed his cold beer in one gulp. “That's entirely different. Dad's watched Chris grow up. She could be another daughter. There's something in Cody's gaze that might make a woman recoil. Chris is used to being stared at, I know. I expect she didn't notice. But I sure as hell did. Tasteless behaviour.”

“You still carry the torch,” Julanne observed gently.

“I heard you, Mum.”

Mitch still had the steam of anger coming off him, Julanne thought, seeking to soothe. “The weekend is coming up too quickly,” she lamented. “Christine is due home Sunday afternoon. Why don't I get a few people together Saturday night?”

Mitch considered. “I don't know that Chris would want that. Then again, she might. Who do you have in mind?”

Julanne turned her stately blonde head towards him. “Kyall and Sarah, of course. And I suppose I should ask Enid and Max?”

“No,” Mitch said flatly, his eyes on a wedge-tailed eagle soaring downwind. “Max is fine, but Enid could put quite a dampener on the party. She's psychologically incapable of not criticising Chris in some way.”

“Tell me about it,” Julanne invited dryly.

“If we're going to have a party, Chris has to enjoy herself.”

“Of course, dear. So how do we go about leaving them out?”

Mitch shrugged. “Keep everyone young. Unmarried or soon to be married couples.”

“That's you, I trust?” Julanne smiled at her adored son, then gave his lean fingers a quick squeeze. “I can't wait for you to marry and give your father and me grandchildren.”

“What's this?” Christine, stepping through the French doors, pretended to prick up her ears. “I didn't even know Mitch was engaged?” This kind of banter she couldn't seem to stop.

“I have no head for engagements. I don't want to discuss them either.” Mitch's tone was a velvet growl.

“Heavens, you sound grouchy!” Christine came behind him, touched his cheek, then sank gracefully into the armchair beside him.

Soft fragrances wafted over him. Scents of
shampoo, garlands of fresh flowers—Christine. “So do most men when they're getting pushed to the altar,” he drawled.

“You'd probably make a totally lousy husband anyway.” Christine reached out a hand and tousled his thick golden hair, not satisfied until it flopped boyishly onto his forehead.

“I've got a notion you'd make a very dangerous wife.” He smoothed his hair.

“How's that?” Her sapphire eyes were alive with mischief.

“A man would have to lock you up. Beautiful women are the most problematic of all. That's why so many guys marry plain women. Did you happen to notice the way Cody was looking at you?”

Christine sat back, as fresh and cool in her lacy white camisole top and matching skirt as the white daisies that surrounded them in glazed pots. Her long lustrous mane of hair framed her face and trailed down her back; her skin was peachy and glowing from the sun. He felt free to indulge his searing desire to look at her, store up his memories before she went back to the world she had made for herself.

“Actually, I did,” she confessed. “I've encountered looks like that many times before, both professionally and socially. I love you for being jealous, Mitch.”

He had to deal with that. “Except I'd have felt the same way for any woman guest.”

“Ouch!”

“You deserved that.”

“I know,” she said ruefully, wanting to draw some response from him in any way she could. “What's wrong with you anyway? I know you're angry about the whole thing. Are you mad that you have to sack him?”

“No problem.” He shrugged. A little trickle of water was running from a lock of her damp hair down her neck and into the cleft of her breasts. He had to wrestle with the insane urge to lap it with his tongue. Instead he continued casually. “Except I have to pay Dad the courtesy of clearing it with him. Dad, as you know, is staying overnight in town. He really enjoys his card evenings with the boys. You'd better tell Chris what you plan for her, Mum.”

“What's this?” Christine turned fully Julanne's way.

“How would you like a party Saturday night?” Julanne asked. “Just young people. No oldies. You and Mitch, Sarah and Kyall…”

“I think we should make up a list. That's if Chris wants a party.”

“Why wouldn't I want a party, Mitch?” She raised her arched brows at him. “That's a lovely idea, Julanne. I'm thinking we could ask some of
Mitch's old girlfriends. There's Fleur McPherson—”

“Turns out she's married.” Mitch balanced on two legs of his turquoise and white upholstered chair.

“Is she really? I didn't know that.” Christine looked at him in surprise.

“Think how long you've been away,” he retorted acidly.

“Fancy that—Fleur married!” She had always liked Fleur, though they had never been that close.” End of story, then. We can't break that up.”

“Have your fun,” he invited.

“I'm an old girlfriend too,” she pointed out.

“Only you're out of my system.”

“That's truly sad.”

“You screwed up.”

“We're talking about a party, children.” Julanne tapped the glass-topped table.

“I don't want to make a lot of work for you,” Christine said, knowing how Julanne went to endless trouble. “We should keep the numbers down.”

“We'll only invite the ones you really like,” Mitch suggested. “But we'll have to let them know as soon as possible so they can make arrangements.”

“Let's make the list, then,' Julanne said, loving the whole idea. “If we keep it to, say, between
twenty and thirty, we can accommodate everyone overnight.”

“But what do I do for a party dress?” a pleasantly surprised Christine asked.

“You brought one with you, surely?” Mitch shot her a mocking glance, at the same time considering the magic of Christine in a party dress.

“Not with me, no.” Then, as she further pondered, “You mean here to Marjimba?”

“I mean in amongst all the luggage you brought home to Wunnamurra,” Mitch corrected with sarcasm. “If you didn't live way out here you'd have been mobbed already. Christine Reardon, superstar.”

“The fact I'm not a star out here is a great big plus, I can tell you. I'm not enthralled by having my bottom pinched black and blue. Some of them are even schoolboys. They sort of follow you in packs.”

“In Australia?” Mitch sounded so horrified she might have been speaking of violent offenders.

“I have to say mostly in Italy, where they're much more enthusiastic about women. Or this woman, though I'm sensible enough to know looks are transient—like my so-called fame. Now, as luck would have it, I did bring a couple of glamorous dresses with me. For all I knew Mother might have been desperate to give me a party.”

“I suppose there are no words to describe them?” Mitch asked. Image after image of
Christine in and out of dresses ran through his mind as if they were being played on a video camera. It was a stimulus Mitch tried hard to suppress, though Christine was looking at him with such a sweet mocking smile she might have been reading his mind.

“Sorry, Mitch! You'll just have to wait and see. I tell you who I would like to see after all this time—Shelley Logan. She was such a sweet little kid. A real pixie. But she must be all grown up by now?”

“She's still petite.” Julanne smiled. “Personally, I think she looks like an adorable little witch. I know she had a twenty-first birthday not that long ago. She didn't get a party. Her parents treated her by giving her a day off work.”

“That's a bit of an exaggeration, Mum,” Mitch said, effortlessly maintaining his balance on the two legs of his chair.

“Not much. They brought her into town for lunch. The parties are kept for Amanda. Shelley must be terribly hurt the way her mother and father favour her older sister.”

“You mean they broke her heart,” Christine replied without hesitation. They all knew the story of the Logans. “Shelley was punished for surviving when her twin, Sean, didn't.” Sean had been the boy and Pat Logan's pride and joy. “That was a tragedy.”

“It had a dreadful impact on the family.”
Julanne looked sad. “Little Shelley took the blame for her big sister. The twins were six. Amanda was eleven. She should never have taken them down to the creek.”

“I always had it in my mind that Amanda wandered off and left them,” Christine said. “But she told a different story. One that made Shelley out to be a very naughty, disobedient little girl. That wasn't the way I saw it. Shelley was such a cute little thing—bright as a button, red hair on fire and the most beautiful big green eyes. I remember her as being quite motherly with Sean. It was lovely to see.”

“Then he died.” Julanne sighed sadly, and tender-hearted Christine momentarily closed her eyes. “Drowned. I suppose we'll never know the truth of it,” she reflected. “They still work the property, but Pat's heart went out of it when he lost his boy. They were really struggling until Shelley got the bright idea to take in tourists.”

“Really? When did this happen?” Christine enquired.

“A year or so ago. It's an ‘Outback Encounter' kind of trip. The station hosts a small party of guests at a time. It gives tourists a taste of the real Australia. Shelley's really very clever. But the family work her too hard. She does all the cooking, organizes the activities, while Amanda sits around in the evening looking pretty. It's not cheap, but the meals are excellent, the accom
modation is comfortable, and Shelley works very hard to make the trip memorable. They're never short of visitors. They attract Europeans and Japanese mostly.”

“Taking in tourists is keeping their heads above water,” Mitch remarked. “All due to Shelley, though she doesn't get much praise for herself from dear Daddy, no matter how hard she tries. If you want to invite Shelley, and I think you should, you'll have to invite Amanda as well, otherwise they'll all give Shelley hell.”

“So things don't change?” Christine mused, shaking back her drying mane.

“Not with the Logans. The family was destroyed by Sean's death and Shelley was sadly made the scapegoat.”

In the end they made a list of twenty young people who would fit in perfectly. The numbers included quite a few of Mitch's polo pals, a fact Christine commented on.

“It's a way of life out here,” he pointed out, as though that guaranteed their invitation to the party. “You of all people shouldn't object, Chris. You used to love watching the game.”

“And that's what I had to do. Watch. I wanted to play.”

“You were such a daredevil you'd have been hurt.”

“And you weren't?” Her eyes flew to his in challenge.

“The sport is too dangerous for a woman, Chrissy. I couldn't have borne to be around had something happened to you.”

Her eyes, incredibly, stung with tears. She looked down, blinking them away. “You can't imagine how that comforts me. Now, who's this? Tony Norman?” She took refuge in consulting the list.

“You'll like him.” Julanne patted her arm. “He's the overseer on Strathmore. Very likeable and good fun.”

“My life has changed so much. I haven't kept up with anybody.” Christine lamented.

“Yeah, well, we all know that.” Mitch's voice was bone-dry. “But everyone will be very curious to see you.”

“We'd better get cracking, then!” Christine sprang up with enthusiasm. Her own mother hadn't suggested a party but Julanne had. “I want you to know I love you, Julanne.” Affectionately she dropped a kiss on Julanne's head, before disappearing through the open French doors into the house.

“I tell you what you have to do, my darling,” Julanne said broodingly to her son. “You have to win that girl back.”

Mitch's attractive voice rasped. “How sorry do you want me to be the next time, Mum?” He rose restlessly, shoving back his chair before moving to the white wrought-iron balustrade where he
stared fixedly at the landscape. The sheer incandescence of it!

“In no time at all Chris will want to return to her glamorous world—the Manhattan apartment, the soap star, being famous.” He turned back to his mother, as though reminding her. “She's no ordinary woman. She's a supermodel. Look at her! God, the polish she's acquired! She's been working at it for years. I don't know about schoolboys, but most men's mouths would fall open when they see her pass by. She's got such flash all around her. So don't get up any false hopes. I couldn't go through it again. I'm happy enough just the way I am. Free from emotional pain.”