Home Before Sundown (13 page)

‘Now I want you in the driver's seat,' Gabe said. ‘I'll handle things this end while you take the ute slowly up the bank.'

‘Right.'

Bella's clothes were dripping and stinking of mud as she climbed in behind the wheel and started the motor. Carefully watching the action behind her in the rear-vision mirror, she put her foot down slowly.

It was a tedious process. Every so often Gabe would call out for her to stop or to back up a bit while he adjusted the rope.

He wasn't having an easy time of it. Even though he was doing his best not to hurt the struggling beast, there was a lot of lifting, pushing, pulling and cursing, but at last the steer emerged from the mud.

Bella expected the poor thing to collapse, but he stood, trembling, while Gabe quickly untied the loop. With a gentle slap on the rump from Gabe, the animal turned his head, as if to question him with puzzled, liquid black eyes, then he sniffed the air and took unsteady steps forward.

‘Woohoo!'

Their cheers rose spontaneously, but they wasted no time getting back into the warm, soupy dam to extract the second steer. This fellow didn't thank them when they got him out. He tried to head-butt Gabe for his pains, but eventually he, too, was safely out of harm's way and they turned to tackle their worst task, shifting the dead cow.

‘I'm so relieved,' Bella said much later, when the two rescued steers were safe and resting in the shade. ‘I hated the idea of telling Dad that I'd lost three of his herd.'

‘Good teamwork,' Gabe suggested.

‘Yeah. Your muscles and my brains.'

‘And both of us willing to get down and dirty.'

He flashed a quick smile Bella's way and her breath caught in her throat. She dropped her gaze to her muddy boots. ‘Wish we could clean up.'

‘There's a bucket in the back of the ute. We can use the water trough before we start on the fence.'

‘I can fix the fence. You don't have to stay, Gabe.'

He ignored this as he collected the bucket. ‘Come on.'

At the water trough they took turns to douse each other to wash away the mud and cow grime. It was a precarious occupation for Bella, given that a bucketful of water made Gabe's clothes cling to his broad chest, tight abs and manly bits.

When it came to wet shirts, Colin Firth's Mr Darcy had nothing on Gabe Mitchell. Pity the sight also deprived Bella of oxygen.

Terrified he might notice her checking him out she scooped water with her hands, splashing it over him. As kids, they'd found it practically impossible to walk past a trough in summer without someone starting a water fight.

Gabe splashed back, using the heel of his hand to send the water high.

‘Marco,' he called with a grin.

She hadn't heard that challenge in years and years.

‘Polo!' She shot water straight back at him.

Suddenly, just like that, the game of their childhood was on.

‘Marco.' Gabe scooped and swamped her.

‘Polo.' Bella sent a hard scoop his way.

‘Marco.' Splash!

‘Polo.' Swamp.

Crazy
. Stupid waste of water.

Bella stopped splashing and Gabe did, too, and for long, silent seconds they stood facing each other, staring. She could feel her heart pumping. It was wonderful but weird to be carrying on like this with Gabe. It was like taking a step back in time to a carefree summer long ago, when they'd been horsing around at the water trough and Gabe had swept her up in his strong, brown arms.

She'd kicked and squealed as he held her high and she'd loved every minute of it. Loved his strength and the knowledge that she could trust him.

Sure enough, just as he pretended to drop her into the trough, his arms tightened around her and he dunked her gently.

No wonder she'd been so enchanted.

‘Okay,' he said, abruptly dragging her back from the past. ‘We'd better get on with that fence.'

Oh, yeah, the fence
.

It was an hour or so later when Bella finally lowered her butt onto the fallen ironbark trunk, aching and tired but, ultimately, satisfied. Nearby, the two steers were already starting to forget their ordeal.

‘I think they'll be fine now,' she said as Gabe propped a dusty boot on the end of the log and swilled the last mouthfuls from his water bottle.

He nodded. ‘They're safe enough from the dingoes now they're walking around and they'll join the others when they come in to drink.'

‘Thanks for all your help.'

He'd been undeniably magnificent. Super-strong, patient and friendly, the way he'd always been for as long as she'd known him – until that black period when all of those qualities had apparently deserted him.

A time Bella was not going to dwell on now.

‘You must be starving,' she said. ‘Our place is closer. Come back for a late lunch.'

Gabe screwed the metal cap on his bottle, thought for a moment, then shook his head. ‘Thanks, but I should head back.'

‘I owe you big time, Gabe. There's no way I could have done this without you.'

‘Don't worry. I'm not letting you off the hook.' His grey eyes flashed. ‘I'll probably find some dirty work for you at my place.'

‘Good,' Bella said with less certainty, then she helped him to load his gear into the back of the ute, carrying the leftover fencing wire and strainers, while Gabe stowed the chainsaw, towing ropes and the rifle that they, thankfully, hadn't had to use.

He opened the driver's door, preparing to leave.

‘Let's hope that's the end of bogged cattle.'

‘For this season at least.'

He stood for a moment, squinting against the glare and looking into the distance, one hand resting on the door's rim. ‘Actually, if you're not too busy, I might call on you for a favour pretty soon.'

‘Absolutely.' Bella hoped she didn't sound too anxious.

‘I'm not happy about this weather. The country's so damn dry and Jim Bryce had a bad fire on his place yesterday. Lost stock and about a hundred acres of country.'

‘You want to back-burn?'

Gabe nodded. ‘I reckon I need to burn off Jonno's Paddock. It backs straight onto scrub and if that brush starts blazing and the fire gets away, I'm going to lose too much valuable grassland. I want a good wide burned strip along the road over there. I've already cleared the cattle out.'

‘Well . . . sure. Sounds doable. I'd be happy to help.'

‘That'd be great, Belle.'

She told herself she imagined the electrifying spark in his eyes as he looked at her. Sure enough, next moment, Gabe was deadpan and serious again.

‘I have a mobile tank, but your father bought one last summer as well. It would be good to have two, one at each end.'

‘I'll bring it with me. I've seen it hanging on the gantry next to the shed.'

‘You'll find it fits perfectly into the back of your ute.'

‘Great.' Bella shrugged. ‘I guess there's a pump and a motor as well. I'll hunt around in the shed and I'll check the fuel and the oil.'

‘I have spare fuel.'

Oh, they were very good at this business of being friendly neighbours, weren't they?

Bella knew she should be pleased that they were sensibly back on track with no more nonsense or teasing. If only their careful politeness didn't feel so strangely wrong and somehow off-kilter.

‘What day would suit you?' Gabe asked. ‘You'll need to give yourself time to get everything secure in the ute. I could help with that if you like.'

‘Oh, I'm sure I'll manage. How about Thursday? I'll need a couple of days to take care of things at home before I get the tank set up.'

‘Thursday's good. According to the forecast there shouldn't be any wind.'

‘We'll make it a date then,' she said.

‘I'll shout lunch.'

Bella nearly responded with a cheeky joke about bringing the Mylanta, but stopped herself just in time. Being grown up and serious was so much safer.

Gabe slid into the driver's seat and she stood, with her hands tucked into the back pockets of her jeans, watching him. ‘See you Thursday. And thanks for all your help today. Really appreciate it.'

He sent her a wave and a grin as he drove off. She walked over to Striker, ready to ride home, mad with herself for feeling empty and depressed.

Despite the rough terrain as he drove away, Gabe kept an eye, not on the road ahead, but on the view in the rear-vision mirror. His interest was fixed on a point beyond the trail of dust to where Bella was mounting her horse.

A damn beautiful sight.

Bella was as slender and fluid as a dancer, as agile as ever, and he could remember the way she used to look on Sassy – a picture of country-style agility and grace. She'd been legendary in the barrel races on the rodeo circuit. Despite her slenderness she had terrific strength and control, and her teamwork with Sassy had been immaculate as she steered as close a possible to a barrel, shaving precious seconds.

After today's unaccustomed exercise she'd probably be aching, but she looked completely at home in the saddle. The Bella of old.

The girl he'd let go. To the other side of the world.

Gabe's hands clenched on the steering wheel. He thought he'd suffered enough when Bella left, but having her home again was hell. He wasn't sure how he'd restrained himself today. A thousand times he'd almost hauled her in and kissed her. In spite of the mud.

Because of the mud.

How many girls would have tackled that job the way Bella had today? How many would have shown her grit and determination?

One thing was certain – Bella Fairburn belonged to this life. She wasn't like her aunt, even though she liked to think she was. Liz was a gifted artist and she'd followed her calling to the concert stages of Europe.

This
country,
this
life was Bella's calling. Horses and wide skies and raising cattle. Dirt and dust. Fencing and mustering. Drawing up grazing plans or balancing the books. Take any aspect of this work and Bella Fairburn was good at it.

Gabe knew she had a genuine, bone-deep love of this land. It made no sense that she was rushing back to Europe the first chance she had.

The track dipped, running down a slope covered in scrub and Gabe's view of Bella disappeared, which was probably just as well. It was now a matter of dodging saplings or bashing his way through. At the bottom he reached the track again and the driving was plain sailing.

His mind zapped straight back to his neighbour.

In a perfect world he would do everything he could to win her again. He would start by trying to make up for the messy end to their relationship and he would try to explain and apologise for that nightmare stretch after his father's death when his mother's grief had been so all-consuming.

Those days had been hard. He'd had to live with her repeated laments . . .

‘I don't think I can live without him, Gabe.'

‘You can. You must,' he'd pleaded. ‘I'll be here. I'll look after you.'

He'd been shocked then to feel tears, shocked to realise that his mother could do that to him.

But it had been so much worse on the day he'd found her sitting, slump-shouldered on the edge of her bed in a sightless trance, nursing one of his father's old work shirts to her chest, an empty pill bottle on the table beside her.

A pile of white capsules in her lap.

Gabe had saved his mother that day, but he'd also grown up with a terrible jolt. He'd finally understood what had happened when he was little, when she'd left him and his dad and gone to the city.

When she'd gone away he'd been maybe three at the most, and his mother had cried and hugged him tightly to her, so tightly that his father had to gently lift her hands away. And then she'd got into the car with the nurse.

Gabe could remember the way his dad's strong hand had gripped into his shoulder so hard it hurt as the car drove off down the winding dirt track.

‘It's just you and me now, little mate.'

It was years before she came home again. Gabe's dad had acted like she was the Queen or something, cleaning, cooking, ironing his shirts. Gabe had picked a bunch of flowers from Roy's garden and given them to her. She gave him a hug and he could remember that she'd smelled nice, but what he mostly remembered was the worry mixed with happiness making shiny tears in his father's eyes.

Of course, when his father was killed, Gabe had known immediately that it was now his task to protect his mother . . .

He'd spoken to the doctors and learned of her long history of depression and he'd taken on the burden and worry of her fragility, on top of the guilt he felt over his father's death and the added new responsibility of his teenage sisters.

There'd been no space to consider his own happiness.

Of course he'd thought about Bella endlessly, but he hadn't confided in her at the time. His father had always kept their private troubles strictly under wraps and he'd instilled the importance of this secrecy in Gabe.

There are some things a family just doesn't share with outsiders, Gabe, no matter how good the friendship may be.

By the time Gabe had emerged from the worst of his private problems, he'd pissed Bella off so completely that she'd left for Europe.

After mulling things over for days, Liz made a decision. Crossing the kitchen to the phone, she dialled the numbed jotted in her notebook. ‘Jack, it's Liz Fairburn.

‘How are you?'

‘Very well. Listen, I'm ringing with a suggestion I think you're going to like.'

There was a deep chuckle on the end of the line. ‘A suggestion or a proposition?'

‘Take your pick.' Liz smiled, amazed that just hearing Jack Roper's voice could make her feel flirtatious. ‘The thing is,' she said, adopting a more serious tone. ‘I've looked on the map and I've seen where you live. I was rather shocked that you're so far away. It's too far to come here every week, surely?'

‘I'll admit it's a hike. But I do feel bad about neglecting Alex's music over the past twelve months. I'd like to try to make up for that.'

‘Well, I'm suggesting a compromise. How about we have the lessons in Gidgee Springs? In the CWA hall?'

‘Are you sure?' Jack asked doubtfully.

‘I wouldn't offer if I wasn't sure. I'm playing at a fundraiser luncheon for the CWA, you see. It's pro bono, and they've given me a key and offered me the use of their hall any time I like. Their piano's okay –
just
okay, mind you, but it will do.'

When Jack hesitated, Liz said, ‘I wouldn't mind a trip into town once a week.' This was true. She really did find the silence and loneliness of the bush oppressive at times. ‘And it would save you a couple of hours off your round trip.'

‘It's a very thoughtful offer, Liz.'

‘I feel as if I owe you. Bella and I are very grateful that you saved our heifer and calf. But if you decide to do this, I'd like to stick with Saturday mornings if that's okay.'

‘Saturday's fine, sure. Okay, I'll accept your kind offer on one condition.'

‘What's that?'

‘We ask Alex to practise for an hour afterwards while I shout you a drink or a coffee.'

Liz grinned. Dating in Gidgee Springs? What a lark! The local gossipers would have a field day. But Jack knew that and he obviously didn't care.

‘That sounds like a fair deal, Jack.'

‘I'll look forward to it.'

Liz was smiling as she hung up, and for no logical reason, she danced a little jig around the kitchen.

‘What's got into you?'

She hadn't seen Bella in the doorway, wide eyed and curious.

‘Spring fever,' Liz responded with a cheeky shrug.

Spring fever.

Romance seemed so easy for her aunt.

Bella had trouble concentrating as she sat at the computer that evening, logging in new details to the grazing plan she'd installed for her dad back when she was studying for her business degree. She kept remembering Liz's happy dance, which had apparently been inspired by a simple invitation for coffee with Jack Roper.

Liz always seemed to have a man in her life and she never seemed to get in a stew about any of them. How did she do that? It was impossible for Bella, who'd spent almost her whole life completely caught up with one particular male.

These days, that particular male was there in her head the whole time, distracting her. She couldn't stop thinking about . . .

‘Bella?'

At the sound of Liz's voice Bella jumped. Her aunt was at the doorway, holding a huge pink mug. ‘I made hot chocolate. Thought you might like one.'

‘Oh.' Bella hoped she wasn't blushing. ‘I'd love one. Thanks.'

Liz nodded towards the computer screen. ‘You work too hard.'

Another blush threatened. ‘I want everything shipshape for Dad.'

‘I hope you haven't been waiting too long.' Bella was determined to be super cool as she pulled up beside Gabe's truck on Thursday morning. Totally, impressively,
super
cool.

‘Getting the tank into the back of this ute wasn't as easy as it looked,' she explained as she climbed out and adjusted the brim of her hat to the glare. Then she noticed George Clooney scampering at Gabe's heels, wagging his tail madly.

‘Hey, cute boy.' Kneeling, she rubbed his ears. ‘Have you come to help us?'

‘More like he stowed away,' said Gabe. ‘I was halfway down the track before I realised he was in the back. Roy's right. The girls have spoiled him rotten. He thinks he's part of the family.'

‘Well, between the two of us, we should be able to keep an eye on him.'

‘He'll have to stay locked in the cabin while we're burning.' Gabe frowned. ‘So you had troubles with the tank?'

‘Only nuisance value. The chain caught when I was lowering it down on the block and it took a while to undo. And then I took a while longer to find the load binders.'

‘Well, everything looks good now.' Gabe prowled round the back of the ute, surveying her handiwork, testing the tension of one of the binders she'd tied over the tank. ‘It's all very secure.'

‘Yeah. I was like superwoman working that ratchet to get it tight.'

‘Great job.'

He smiled at her and she so wished he wouldn't smile like that. The sparkle in his eyes undid all the good resolutions she'd set in place over the past three days.

He rapped his knuckles against the side of the tank. ‘You've already filled it, too.'

‘Yeah. I reversed the hoses to pump it out of the river.'

‘Terrific. We're all set to start then.'

It was another stinking hot day. Still and sticky. The hot end of the dry season at its very worst. The kind of day that made even the most dyed-in-the-wool bush folk want to get the hell off to the coast, to dive in the cool blue surf and sip icy-cold beer or drinks that were served with little umbrellas.

Instead, Bella and Gabe lit four kilometres of fire lines and watched the grass burn up to the road, controlling the back-burn with shovels and the water tankers. It was another day of hot and dirty work, but it was important work. Grasslands were gold for graziers and they had to be protected, so they got on with the job, working as a team, just as they had at the Piccadilly dam, just as they had so many times in the past.

They were sore-eyed and smoky by the time they'd finished and they ate their lunch on a shaded shelf of rock, drinking sweetened billy tea from chipped enamel mugs, sharing Gabe's corned beef sandwiches.

‘Have you heard from your mother and sisters?' Bella asked. ‘Are they having a good time at Noosa?'

‘Having a ball. Hard not to at this time of year.'

‘It's a bugger for you, though, having to stay at home over Christmas and slog it out here on your own.' Not that either Sarah or Gabe's mother was much help when they were home. His little sister Ellie was different. She loved getting stuck into cattle work.

Gabe shrugged. ‘I'd have to listen to Sarah raving on about the latest guy she's crazy over.'

‘That's her default setting, isn't it?'

‘Seems that way.' Gabe helped himself to a sandwich. ‘Apparently, my mother's going out with someone, too.'

Gabe said this casually enough, but Bella thought he looked a bit worried.

‘How do you feel about that?' she asked.

‘Fine.' He sounded doubtful.

‘It's not really surprising, Gabe. Your mother's still very attractive and – and it must be hard for her on her own.'

It was strange, though, talking about other people's relationships when they couldn't talk about the one relationship that really mattered to her – their own.

Gabe broke off a corner of his sandwich and tossed it to George Clooney. ‘So tell me about Europe. What's the best thing you've seen over there?'

As he obviously didn't want to talk about his family, Bella accepted this rather deliberate change of tack.

What was the best thing?
She thought of Flo's bar in the beautiful Alps, the laughter and camaraderie of young people bent on having fun. She thought of the beauty of a fresh coating of snow on the ground and trees, making everything look like a wedding cake. And then, perhaps a bit late, she thought of Anton.

It felt mean to talk about snow and Alpine bars to Gabe stuck here in the outback heat.

‘This is going to sound weird,' she said, ‘but the beautiful churches really blew me away.'

He sent her a sceptical smile. ‘What about the blokes? Aren't European guys supposed to be super studs and sexy?'

‘Depends on your taste,' she said quickly, hoping that Gabe hadn't heard rumours about Anton. ‘Speaking of taste, this corned beef is terrific. Did you cook it?'

‘Yep.' He was still watching her with a thoughtful smile. ‘Roy made the pickles.'

‘Roy? Really? The pickles are yum. What a talent.' She was talking fast, trying to cover her discomfort. Gabe couldn't know about Anton, could he? She wasn't sure why she didn't want him to know. She supposed she was trying to avoid any awkwardness. ‘Roy would make someone a great wife.'

Gabe's eyebrows lifted as he reached for another sandwich. ‘I wouldn't mention that in his hearing.'

‘Well, no, of course not.'

‘Touchy subject.'

‘You mean Roy has a love life?'

‘Past tense. Sad story.'

Bella had never imagined the old ringer suffering from romantic heartbreak. ‘It just goes to show.'

‘Show what?'

Heartbreak happens to everyone
. ‘Um . . . that you can't judge a book by its cover.'

‘That's certainly true.'

They lapsed into silence for a bit.

‘How's your dad?' Gabe asked.

Bella gave a slow shrug. ‘I certainly hope he's getting better, but it's hard to tell for sure. Whenever I ring he just tells me not to worry, he's fine, but until I see him with my own eyes . . . '

‘He'll be grateful for the great job you're doing here.'

She smiled, quietly pleased by the compliment. It was almost like the old times when they'd talked for hours, except that now they were skimming the surface, ducking and weaving, avoiding the obvious and searching for safe things to talk about.

‘My dad always had a lot of respect for Peter,' Gabe said next.

‘I think it was mutual.'

‘In fact everyone in the north respects him,' Gabe said. ‘I've even seen the Jensens bowing and tugging at their forelock and calling him Mr Fairburn.'

Bella blinked. The Jensens were a rough, tough mob, always picking fights in the pub. They were suspected by everyone for cattle duffing. ‘That's a surprise,' she said.

Gabe nodded. ‘Story Dad told me. Peter rescued their mum when she was young. Apparently ferals tried to take over the pub at Dirranbilla where Marjorie Jensen was working. Really bad types. They'd done sentences up in Darwin. And this day there was no one else around, so they pulled out the phone, served themselves beer and started smashing up bar stools. Then they started groping poor Marjorie.'

‘What happened? Don't tell me my dad stopped them?'

Gabe smiled as he nodded. ‘One of them picked up a broken bar stool, but the story goes – quiet, laid-back Peter Fairburn walked in on them, grabbed a pool cue, stepped up and faced them both like a two-handed swordsman.'

‘Crikey.'

‘And they backed right off.'

Bella couldn't help smiling. It matched what she knew about her dad as a peaceful man who would nevertheless stand up to bullies. ‘He never told us about it.'

‘Well, he wouldn't, would he? He's not a boaster.'

‘No.' Bella swallowed, felt nervous. After her dad's heart attack, she had a slightly better understanding of how truly awful it had been for Gabe when his father had the accident. ‘Gabe . . . I know how close you were to your father.'

He nodded and looked solemn.

‘You two were great mates.' Bella knew she was pushing into dangerous territory, but she sensed Gabe had moved on from his initial grief. Perhaps it would help to talk now.

Seemed Gabe shared the same view. ‘When I was a youngster I tried to copy him,' he said quietly, staring off into the distance. ‘I always hung around him like a bad smell – when he worked on machinery or fencing, whatever. If he took his shirt off, I took mine off.'

Bella smiled, imagining it.

‘I even rolled my own smokes,' Gabe said. ‘Copying the old man. Filled them with dried grass.'

She laughed. ‘Did he catch you?'

‘Of course. “You're not lighting those things, are you?” he'd say. And I'd swear blind-blue that I wasn't.'

‘But you were.'

‘Course I was. I lit up and coughed my guts out. “That's it,” Dad said when he caught me, “I'm giving up the fags.” And he gave them up just like that, cold turkey. And never once acted as if he minded.' Gabe's mouth tilted sadly.

‘We've both been lucky with our dads,' Bella said softly.

She'd finished her sandwich and she leaned back against the smooth rock, surprised that they'd reached this sense of close connection so quickly. ‘When you think about it, it's so obvious that you can never judge people by their outsides, but we still do it, don't we?'

Gabe looked puzzled. ‘Where did that come from?'

‘From when we were talking about Roy.' She sighed. ‘
All
those old sayings are true.'

Gabe smiled and regarded her with amused interest. ‘What sayings?'

‘Oh, you know – things like don't count your chickens before they hatch.'

His smile broadened as he tossed a rosy-pink dollop of meat to George Clooney. ‘Don't bite the hand that feeds you.'

Bella laughed, remembering the easy banter they'd once enjoyed. ‘Actions speak louder than words.'

‘Any specific actions you had in mind?' Suddenly Gabe was staring at her, his eyes intense as he searched her face.

Something about his expression made Bella's already unsteady heartbeats pick up pace. ‘No. Nothing specific.'