Authors: Margareta Osborn
Mountain Ash
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After years of struggling as a single mother, Jodie Ashton has given up on love and passion. What she craves now is security for herself and her beloved daughter, Milly. And marriage to widower Alex McGregor, the owner of the prosperous Glenevelyn cattle station in the East Gippsland mountains, will certainly offer that. If only he wasn't so much older and so controlling.
Needing space to decide her future, Jodie reluctantly agrees to a girls only weekend at the Riverton rodeo â¦
Meanwhile, stockman Nate McGregor vows off women, after his latest one-night stand costs him his job in the Northern Territory. Perhaps it's time to head back to his family home, Glenevelyn, to check out for himself the âgold-digger' his father seems determined to marry.
But first, on his way through Riverton, he plans to stop off at a rodeo. Two lives are about to collide in one passionate moment â with devastating results â¦
Dearest Reader,
Â
Having lived and worked on the land all my life, it was a natural progression for me, a country girl âwho always wanted to write', to make the Australian rural landscape the centrepiece of my novels. Life on the land is an existence some of you know well, others dream about and more still visit from time to time, either on holidays or via the pages of books such as this. Whichever way you find yourself immersed in our bush culture, I hope you delight in it as much as I do.
My rural surroundings, whether they are East Gippsland's rugged high country, grey-blue bush and rolling farmland, or the more far-flung desert and red dirt of the outback, provide me with a gamut of stories to choose from, a huge array of characters to write about, and I love every single minute of it.
Life on the land can be tough, even heartbreaking, and thus my books, at times, don't pull punches. But at the end of every day I sit on my veranda, drink in the incredible vista of the mountains surrounding us, and thank God for allowing me to live here on our beautiful property as an author, farmer, wife and mother.
As this is my third full-length novel, my fourth piece of published work, I want to express my appreciation to you â my
beautiful and supportive readers â for reading and loving my stories. To those who are new to my books â I hope, once the last word is read, you are left with a sense of satisfaction and the essence of rural Australia.
To my returning readers, while this is a stand-alone novel, you will find some friends among these pages. Rural communities are very important to me, and the community and surrounds of fictional Narree are no exception. I hope you enjoy meeting up again with some old mates.
As I love notes from my readers, I encourage you to drop me a line. You can find me at
www.margaretaosborn.com.au
, on Facebook (Margareta Osborn â Author Page) or Twitter (@margaretaosborn). If you'd like to use snail mail, contact me via my publisher. I'd be delighted to hear from you.
I sincerely hope you enjoy reading
Mountain Ash
.
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Warmest wishes,
Â
Margareta
For my children,
Brent, Callan and Katie,
whom I love and cherish with all my heart.
I am with you always,
even unto the end of the world.
Matthew 28:20b
The bride was enveloped in an ethereal glow. She was beautiful and held herself with grace. A wedding dress of chiffon, caught at the bust, flowed like a river down elegant legs. Long golden hair was caught at the nape of her neck with a cream ribbon. Her face was chalk-white, her eyes downcast. She swayed on the arm of a much older man, who had her caught in a firm but gentle grip. Down the path they came, stepping away from the double-storey house quarried from local stone, towards a civil celebrant waiting under the ancient rose arbour.
Guided by her escort, the bride moved over stepping stones wrought from brown river rock, past a scattering of guests, some of whom looked askance and some envious. It wasn't until the couple reached the place where the celebrant indicated they should halt that the girl finally looked up. Past the arbour with its bending canes of blush-pink blooms, past the blue-grey eucalyptus trees and manuka scrub that had been pushed back
to make way for the lush garden and manicured lawns. Past the high hills that were looming a dark brown on the lee side of a nearby mountain in the late afternoon light.
The bride stared off into the heavens, where the sun shot beams of silver through the clouds. Her eyes closed momentarily, as if in prayer, and she whispered something unfathomable under her breath. The man beside her leaned in to try to catch it, but the words were gone as quickly as they had come.
Whatever the bride saw in the sky, or heard on the wisps of wind that had come to toy with her hair, seemed to give her strength. She took a deep breath. Straightened her shoulders. And, with the older man still beside her, stepped forwards.
The celebrant smiled and opened her arms. âWe are gathered here today to witness the joining in matrimony of this man and this woman â¦'
Parnassus shone like burnished copper. In the slight breeze on this glorious mountain day, his long mane and tail flicked like wisps of thick cotton. At the judge's crack of the stock-whip, Jodie Ashton urged her gelding forwards. Parnie picked up his hooves with confidence and jig-jogged through the gate into the camp.
The small yard contained seven Hereford cattle all milling in the back corner. Jodie looked shrewdly across the mob. She was searching for a beast with a kind eye that moved away from her nicely, not like the last one she'd picked in the ladies' event. Head up, square-on to both her and her horse, that steer had eyeballed her with arrogance. Anyone would think she was a raw beginner, choosing him, rather than someone coming back to campdrafting after a few years' break. She'd spent the last hour asking herself what she'd been thinking!
Alex: that's what she'd been thinking. Alex and the argument over getting her a new horse. A horse she didn't need, didn't want and certainly didn't require him to buy for her.
A voice came over the loudspeaker: âAnd next up is number twenty-four, Jodie Ashton on Parnassus.'
Focus, woman!
Jodie pulled her mind away from Alex and walked Parnie through the cattle, taking particular note of the âfreshies', the new stock brought into the yard after the last competitor. Eyeing them over, mentally sizing each up and then discounting one after the other. She could hear her father's voice in her head, reminding her to sit strong in the saddle, to tilt her pelvis, push her feet forwards â âGet her boots on the dashboard' as Robert Ashton used to say with a smile. Oh God, her dad. She didn't need to be remembering him any more than she needed to be thinking about Alex just now.
A voice came from her right. âReady,' said the judge.
From the loudspeaker: âAnd for those of you who don't know what this event is, it's a maiden draft. That does not refer to the sexual experience of the rider â although with a body like that I'd have Jodie in my bed any day!' Raucous laughter erupted from the grandstand. The announcer, Richard Muldeen, was a womaniser of the first degree. âA maiden draft means the
horse
is just starting out and hasn't won a draft yet.'
Like Parnie, thought Jodie, as her eyes locked onto a beast. She moved Parnie forwards, aiming to cut the steer from the rest of the mob. The horse signed onto the steer, cutting and weaving, trying to force the beast away from its mates, until there were only two steers left in front of them. Muscles and sinew moved like quicksilver, powerful hindleg muscles hunching as Parnie blocked the cattle from heading back where they'd come
from. Together rider and horse pushed the remaining beasts towards the double gates at the far end of the yard. Two men wearing broad Akubra hats waited, hands on the rails, ready to jump into action and swing the gates wide open at Jodie's call. She just had to get her chosen steer away from his mate.
Above her head, Jodie was vaguely aware of a loudspeaker blasting her earlier disaster to all. âIn the ladies' event, Jodie was cracked off. For the uninitiated this means she lost her beast back to the mob for a third time and had to leave the camp. Let's see if she and Parnassus can hold on to this one â¦'
The cattle made a break for the right-hand rail but Parnie was onto them, facing up to the steers. His ears were working, flicking back and forth. He was so signed on to the beast, she could tell he was in his element and loving every minute of the challenge as much as she was.
There! Her selected steer was by himself, the other behind them. Finally. Steer, horse and rider turned to the right. Another swing to the left, all in concert.
â
Gate!
' yelled Jodie as the beast moved for another turn.
The two steel barriers were yanked open by their keepers. The animal could sense freedom ahead.
And then Jodie, Parnassus and the beast were out of the camp and galloping into the arena. She had forty seconds to get the animal around the course. Covering the steer on the inside, horse and rider headed him towards the first peg. Ears still flicking, Parnie put on a burst of speed, guiding the beast around the peg. The steer was moving okay with his tail up over his back, all promising signs he was going to run well. Jodie allowed a little frisson of pleasure to thread through her body. She'd made the right choice.
From a nearby fence-top she could hear a piping voice yelling, â
Go, Mummy!
'
Milly. Her daughter. There would be no one prouder.
Jodie sat down in the saddle to hold her stride for a smooth cross-over. Around the second peg they went, the steer guided by Jodie and her horse. This was all going so sweet. She'd show Alex what she and Parnie were made of, my oath she would.
Beneath her she could feel Parnassus sensing the end of the course. He started to run harder, more fierce in his intent. She moved to check him, make him shorten his stride, but the horse didn't respond.
Parnassus was over the top of the animal before Jodie's brain could assimilate what was happening.
Fuck! She was going to hock the beast. Jodie's body automatically braced for what she knew was to come.
Parnie's head was over the hindquarters of the steer, his front hooves clipping the back feet of the Hereford. The steer tumbled to the ground. The horse and his rider followed, plummeting in a flurry of limbs, hooves and solid unforgiving kilos of flesh.
It only took a second for Parnassus's warm body to disappear from beneath Jodie and she tumbled over his head.
And then Jodie was falling ⦠falling ⦠down into the black.
Images came like photos from a camera.
Open sky. Dirt. A teeth-crunching, bone-jarring thump.
No feeling.
Black images with fuzzy grey-white edges.
Forcing her eyes open. Someone screaming. Searching for the voice. She knew it.
Screaming still. Milly. It was her daughter â¦
Struggling to move. Being forced back. A male voice. âYou've gotta keep still. They're coming
⦠they're coming ⦠they're coming.
' It was like a whispered litany in her head. Who was coming?
Opening her eyes again. Sniffing the air. The scent of Milly's shampoo, that distinctive smell of strawberries. A mop of hair lying on her chest. Oh God, it all hurt. Pain buzzed through her nerve endings like she was holding on to an electric fence. But that was nothing compared to hearing Milly's screams. âMummy! Mummy!
Mummy!
'
Oh God.
Alex. Dear Alex. Holding Milly's hand. No, wait. Alex was trying to pull Milly away. Haul her back. Jodie wanted to scream at him, âLet her go!' But again that male voice: âNo, Jodie. Keep still till the ambos get to you.'
She stared up into the kind eyes of an upside-down stockman. His hands were gently cradling each side of her head, stopping her from moving her neck. She could see chest hairs poking through his once yellow shirt. She wondered if he knew they were smothered in claggy grey dirt.
What had she been thinking? Something about a little girl â¦
Milly
â¦
Navy blue. Flashes of red. The kind eyes of the stockman were gone, replaced by efficient hands. A collar around her neck. A board under her back. Sticky tape around her head. Milly's smell again. She could hear the wracking sobs of her daughter â the most precious thing she had in the world.
The sound of Alex giving orders.
A sharp prick to her skin.
Softness, fuzziness.
Then nothing. Nothing at all.
