Southern Star: Destiny Romance (22 page)

‘Don’t stop. Don’t stop,’ she chanted, pulling him down again and he needed no encouragement. He didn’t stop, not for a long time. Not until both of them had been consumed by the flames.

Peggy’s return the next day was greeted with a whoop from the hands and a misshapen cake from Amos. The clear delight on everyone’s faces went part-way to assuring Peg she was irreplaceable, and Mac’s grovelling apology did the rest.

‘You should have used the Harcourt Agency,’ she admonished him after Beau had herded the hands outside. ‘Like we do when I go on holiday.’

‘I did,’ he said. ‘I spoke to someone. They said they’d find a suitable candidate and the next day the Williams girl turned up.’

‘Well, I spoke to Janet Harcourt and she’d never heard of Emily Williams. I confronted her and, well, if looks could kill.’ She gave a dramatic shudder.

‘Hell,’ Mac said. ‘I’m sorry, Peg. I guess it was the timing. And she said she’d been over at the Malachi spread. Had a reference, too.’

Peg bustled around the kitchen, restoring order. ‘Well, she’s gone. And good riddance.’ She turned on the dishwasher. ‘And how long is Miss Gillespie staying?’

‘Indefinitely . . . if I can persuade her to.’

Peg turned around and stared so long Mac thought he might blush. Instead, he shifted uncomfortably.

‘Well,’ she said, finally, ‘that’s a first.’

‘Let me know if it causes any problems.’ Two women in one house didn’t always go, as recent events had proved.

‘Don’t see why it should. Took the time to come and say hello, asked me how I was. Got better manners than some others.’

Mac grinned. ‘I’m heading out, taking her dog in case she asks.’

He’d left Blaze in his office, deep in a phone call to Hollywood, something he didn’t want to think about.

March had given way to April. Easter was just a week away, and then she’d be off to the States for rehearsals on her new movie. They hadn’t talked about the separation yet, or the lingering possibility that the LAPD would act against her in some way. After the disturbing event at Sweet Springs, both of them had seized the opportunity of a few days’ respite from the shadowy threat that remained just out of sight.

Paddy followed Mac out to the stables and stood, ears cocked, as he saddled True. ‘Storm’s coming,’ he told the dog. ‘Need to check the fire breaks. Could do with the company.’

Paddy woofed and trotted out of the stable block, seemingly on an errand of his own. Mac’s eyes followed him. ‘Looks like we’re on our own, mate,’ he murmured to True. The horse snickered and butted his arm.

Mac led True out into the sunlight. Squinting against the bright light, he saw the build-up of cloud still hovered far to the north. There had been some lightning strikes in the distance last night and the far-off boom of thunder. Usually by this time of year the storm season was over, but after a summer so unrelentingly dry and with not a drop of rain in a month, every grazier was feeling nervous. The threat of bushfire was ever-present. They’d been lucky the last few years, but luck always ran out eventually.

Swinging up on to True’s back, Mac trotted out of the yard just as Paddy reappeared, Emily’s old cap between his teeth. He dropped it, snarled and lowered his head, snapping at the cloth savagely as he shook his head from side to side. Mac had never seen him react like this before, not since the day he’d thought Mac was attacking Blaze.

‘What is it, mate? You trying to tell me the Williams girl was a strange one?’ he said. ‘I know that. But she’s long gone, never to darken the door again.’

Paddy barked, lifted the cap between his teeth and trotted off through the gate. Just beyond it, he stopped and looked back once. Then he continued northwards.

Bemused, Mac watched him. He shrugged. Paddy was heading more or less in the direction he needed to go, so he might as well see what the crazy hound was up to. Urging True forward, he cantered after the dog.

Putting down the phone, Blaze hopped up and performed a brief jig of delight, fanning her face as she did. Who could blame her? She, Blaze Gillespie, the woman Hollywood loved to hate, had just been flirting with all-round Mr Nice Guy and the biggest box office draw alive, Nick Houston. Not to mention, he was a fixture on the sexiest-man-on-the-planet list – if there was such a thing – and her soon-to-be co-star in
Siren
.

She’d managed to contain any outward expression of delight until Mac had wandered off. Not that he had anything to worry about, but their relationship was complicated enough without introducing jealousy into the volatile mix.

With a great director and crew, Nick and fabulous supporting cast allied to a simply amazing screenplay, they were as close as anyone got to a sure thing in the movie business. Of course stuff happened – monsoonal weather, extravagant egos and out-of-control budgets had all conspired to sink a thousand and one promising movies since the dawn of talking pictures. But she could feel this was going to be big, provided her reputation and the LAPD investigation —

No! She wasn’t going to anticipate trouble. She had a man she loved and a career-making role, not to mention a lot of work to do on preparing for filming and at Sweet Springs.

Before it became too hot, she was going to drive home for the first time in nearly a week to check on progress. She’d phoned Trent to accept his apology for losing her key, and Rowdy had assured her that they hadn’t lost too much time, but she wanted to check in personally. She knew Mac wanted her to avoid Sweet Springs until the police laid charges over the break-in, but that could be never and she couldn’t put her life on hold indefinitely. It was enough, surely, that she spent her nights at Rosmerta.

In the kitchen, she cajoled a packed lunch from Peggy, grabbed two bottles of water and plonked Mac’s old hat on her head. Leaning out of the kitchen door, she looked for Paddy on the back porch where he was often found snoozing.

‘Oh, the boss took the dog,’ Peggy called from the bench where she was busy chopping a huge pile of vegetables for the hands’ dinner. ‘Said to tell you.’

Blaze shrugged. Since being at Rosmerta, Paddy usually split his time between them. Maybe she should be jealous, but in fact she was happy that they’d overcome their rocky start.

She jogged down the steps, calling out goodbye to Peg, and waved to Amos, who was on the roof of the stable block, hammer in hand. Then, with a spray of red dust, she was heading for Sweet Springs. Happy with the world, she turned on the radio to a country rock station, rolled down the window and sang her heart out along with Keith Urban.

The place was deserted, which made the task much easier and quicker. Speed was good. Who knew when the two fuckwits would be back, and a confrontation was not what the doctor ordered. Of course, it would have been better to wait until later when they’d gone for the day, but once the decision had been made, it took little more than five minutes to set it up, and two more to stand back, enjoy and anticipate.

They’d never know who or why. And nor would the idiot cops. Beauty.

‘Rowdy?’ Blaze let herself in and stepped into the hall. ‘Trent? It’s me.’

She shut the door behind her and went into the kitchen to put on the kettle. Peg’s cooking skills did not extend to her coffee. She went to the bottom of the stairs.

‘I’m making coffee.’

When they didn’t answer, she frowned. Normally, she could hear the faint sound of voices or radio or power tools when they were working on the top floor. Walking up to the attic, she noticed the beautiful finish on the timber banister. At the top of the stairs, the gorgeous waterfall light fitting she’d chosen had been installed. Outside on the balcony, the new timber had been beautifully detailed to reflect the house’s heritage.

The boys had clearly been hard at it since the dramas of last week, but wherever they were, they weren’t here now. Most likely they’d decided to pick up supplies in town before heading over.

She felt inside her bag for her phone to give Rowdy a call. Where was the damn thing? Sack bags might look cool but could you ever find anything in them? Thirty seconds later, she had to admit that her bag was not to blame, this time. Her mobile, she was pretty sure, was lying in Mac’s office, where she’d left it in her dither after speaking to Nick Houston.

Annoyed, she jogged down the stairs. She had her hand on the study door when she stopped. Last time she’d been in here it was to see
bitch
repeated a hundred times on her laptop. Did she want to be reminded of that yet?

The kettle whistled and she went to make coffee for one, taking her mug out to the car, where she pulled the wooden storage crates she’d borrowed from Rosmerta from the trunk. Leaning against the ute, she gazed around with a critical eye. With the interior looking so good, she’d need to turn her attention to the outside. Soon, the weather should turn cool enough to spend some time planting, to restore the gardens to how they had looked in Gram’s day. With any luck she would be able to make a start before leaving for the States.

By then, the boys would have the ground floor under control and could work on the first-floor bedrooms and bathroom, as well as preparing the barn to be used for parking and storage.

Macauley had kept an anxious eye to the horizon during the last couple of days. The usual storm season had passed without incident, but the lack of rain meant the ground was tinder-dry and a high risk for fire. With no rain since the day she’d lost the baby, everywhere was brown and red, and even the old gums were limp and parched. It reminded her she needed to water Skye’s tree, but when she hauled a bucket of water over, she found the soil around it was still a little moist. Mac must have been out or asked the boys to water it.

She smiled as she watered the tree carefully, and then stood for a moment in reflective silence as thunder boomed far, far away, before returning to the house and her dusty chores.

When Mac rode up to the old stockman’s hut, he saw Paddy outside, waiting. Not amused, he swiped his hat off his head to flap at the marauding flies that seemed even worse than usual.

‘You brought me on a wild goose chase?’ he chided the dog. Paddy barked and turned to scratch at the door, which opened under the pressure. Sighing, Mac dismounted and looped True’s reins around the fence post. It was then that he noticed the faint vehicle tracks in the dirt, heading away from Rosmerta land. Someone had been here, and relatively recently.

‘Mad dogs and Australians, huh?’ he whispered conspiratorially to the animal.

He ducked his head under the low doorframe of the hut. It looked pretty much as expected; neater, if anything. A rusting pan stood on the old camp stove, and blankets were piled neatly on the bunks. He’d used the place once or twice over the years, as had Amos, but he couldn’t imagine any of the younger hands stooping so low. No wide-screen TV; no luxuries at all.

Paddy was down low, sniffing, tail high. Who knew what had been here? The hut wasn’t exactly animal-proof. At some point he’d need to come out here with Amos to fix it up, but it wasn’t exactly a priority with the extra mustering work they’d have until decent rains fell.

‘Enough of this, mate,’ he said to Paddy. ‘Need to see to the fire breaks and then home.’ He rolled his shoulders to alleviate the unease that sat there whenever Blaze was out of his sight.

Paddy jumped up on the bed, put the ragged cap down, went down on his haunches and growled.

Mac stilled, feeling a fool. He looked around the place with fresh eyes. Cowboys didn’t leave blankets squared away with almost obsessive neatness. Nor did they stack food cans with military precision. The floor, too, was swept clean.

‘Emily’s been here, hasn’t she?’ he asked Paddy. But the dog continued to tear at the cap until it was in pieces. Then he jumped down from the bunk and went out through the door.

Mac took out his mobile, but the patchy coverage near to the homestead was non-existent this far from civilisation.

‘Damn.’ He wanted to get back to the homestead and assure himself that Blaze was safe. Logically, though, he knew she was fine. Amos and the boys were working close to home if there was any trouble.

Working quickly, he turned over the small room, looking for confirmation that Emily had been here, but there was nothing – nothing except Paddy’s strange behaviour and the hairs standing up on his neck. The fire breaks would have to wait until later.

True’s hooves churned the red dust into a wake that followed them on the hour-long ride home. Mac was in sight of the homestead before his mobile signal was restored. There was a message from Ryan, he noted, but he didn’t have time to worry about that right now.

He galloped right up to the house, passing the astonished hands, and pulled True to a halt. Vaulting off, he saw Amos come running, and took the steps two at a time. He burst in on a surprised Peg.

‘Blaze. Where is she?’ He didn’t wait for her answer, striding into his office. ‘Blaze!’ It was empty.

‘Mac, she went out just after you,’ Peggy said, rushing in after him. ‘She headed over to Sweet Springs to sort out some things. I told her you had the dog —’

‘What the hell’s goin’ on?’ Amos said from the doorway.

Mac held up a hand as he rang Blaze’s mobile. Somewhere in the room, a phone sprang cheerily to life. Peg retrieved it from down the side of the chair where Blaze had been sitting just that morning.

Slowly, Mac cancelled the call, telling himself to breathe. She’d simply left her phone behind. She was fine. The fact that Emily Williams might have taken shelter at the hut had nothing to do with Blaze. The girl probably just had nowhere to go and had been too embarrassed to say so. Probably explained why she’d hung around after Mac had told her she could finish up, too.

Just as he took Blaze’s phone from Peggy, it started ringing again and Rowdy’s name appeared on the display. Frowning, he listened to the man’s shocked, almost incoherent voice say that Marianne had gone into labour and he and Trent were taking her to the hospital so they wouldn’t be going to work. More worried than ever, Mac told Rowdy he would let Blaze know, and quickly ended the call.