Moonlight Plains (14 page)

‘Can I have a puff?’ she asked.

If Ed was surprised, he quickly covered it. ‘Sure.’

Kitty took the cigarette, carefully holding it between two fingers, and took a little puff, pleased that she didn’t cough.

‘You don’t need to share. Have one,’ Ed said, casually flipping the soft packet of cigarettes towards her.

‘No, I’m fine, thanks.’ She’d begun to feel woozy almost straight away. ‘That puff was lovely though.’

Perhaps it was just as well that the cicadas started to trill then, signalling nightfall. She and Ed went inside and lit lamps, and as there were plenty of eggs, Kitty made an omelette for their supper.

They ate in the kitchen once again and she allowed herself only
one
fanciful moment in which she pretended that Ed was her man and that they ate alone like this, just the two of them, all the time.

Then she was shocked by her silliness. She really was
the dizzy limit
, as her grandmother had told her many, many times.

To remind herself that Ed was way out of her league, she said, ‘Bobby told me that you’re a Boston blueblood. What does that mean?’

Ed gave a smiling roll of his eyes. ‘It means very little, to be honest.’

Not satisfied, Kitty pushed. ‘Bobby didn’t seem to think so.’

He shrugged. ‘Well . . . it means I come from a family with very high expectations.’

‘Oh.’ Was that all? She felt quite disappointed.

‘And it means I heard plenty of paternal lectures in my childhood,’ Ed expanded.

Thinking of her grandfather, Kitty was instantly sympathetic. ‘Lectures about religion?’

He laughed. ‘About religion, about money, about sober habits and the importance of family. My family is terribly snobby, I’m afraid.’

‘And rich?’

‘Well, yes. But don’t worry – this war is knocking any snobbery out of me fast.’

‘So what did your family say when you joined up?’

Ed drew a sharp breath. ‘My mother spent a week in bed with a migraine. And my father . . . was at a loss at first. After that, he was angry. I was in the middle of a law degree at Harvard and he couldn’t understand how I could give that up. He decided I was simply looking for adventure.’

‘Were you?’

Ed stared at her for a moment and then his eyes twinkled. ‘Partly.’ He put down his fork and leaned back in his chair, looking around him at the simple homestead kitchen with its wood stove and kerosene refrigerator, the gentle lamplight.

‘I felt as if I’d been living in a gilded cage,’ he said. ‘So yeah, I admit I probably joined up initially to escape the pressure and expectations. But the thing is, I’ve already learned so much – important things – mixing with men from all over, and from all walks of life.’

‘What sorts of things?’ Kitty asked, fascinated.

‘Well . . .’ In the ruby glow of the lamp Ed shifted the salt and pepper shakers as if they were chess pieces. ‘I’ve found that the most unlikely people have the qualities I most admire,’ he said quietly. ‘Not cleverness or wealth or authority, but things like tolerance, kindness, courage . . .’

Across the table his dark eyes met Kitty’s and he smiled again. ‘Who would have thought I’d find all that in a young girl in the Aussie outback?’

After their simple supper, Ed insisted on helping with the washing up.

Kitty protested. ‘I know you’re exhausted.’ He’d had next to no sleep last night and the day had been gruelling.

She was pleased when he acquiesced and left her to the dishes. ‘If you’re not ready for sleep, go into the lounge room,’ she said. ‘There’s a lamp in there and matches to light it. Have a smoke, or you can read a newspaper if you like, although they’re a couple of weeks old.’

A neighbour had dropped the newspapers off with their mail after he’d been to town. But perhaps she shouldn’t have mentioned them. They only carried bad news. The Japanese had landed at Hollandia in New Guinea and two British cruisers – HMS
Cornwall
and HMS
Dorsetshire
– had been sunk off the coast of Ceylon.

She finished the dishes, which didn’t take long, then went into the lounge room and found Ed asleep in her great-uncle’s armchair.

His cigarette had burned down and was in danger of singeing his fingers, so she carefully removed it and stubbed it out in the ashtray. Then she stood looking down at the handsome stranger who’d arrived in her life only twenty-four hours ago. So lean and dark and princely.

She imagined bending down and kissing him while he slept. Like Sleeping Beauty in reverse, she thought, and sharp tingles rushed painfully over her skin.

She remembered a new song she’d heard on the wireless just before she left Townsville: Peggy Lee, with Benny Goodman’s orchestra, singing ‘I Got It Bad’.

Moonlight Plains, 2013

Sally couldn’t quite believe the excitement that buzzed through her as she drove to Moonlight Plains, conscientiously early, on the following Thursday morning.

Ever since her beachside confession to Megan she’d felt unexpectedly liberated and unfettered by the guilt that had plagued her for over two years. Perhaps she really might be ready to move on at last.

In fact, as her little car ate up the kilometres between Townsville and Charters Towers, she thought there was every chance that if Luke mentioned kissing her again, she would suggest less talk and more action.

Her excitement was at a rolling boil when she arrived and saw Luke coming down the front steps, crossing the lawn to greet her with his easy, long-legged stride.

‘Hi there,’ she called with a smile and a wave.

‘Morning.’

Almost immediately, she sensed that something was different. Instead of Luke’s usual cheeky smile, his expression was cool – polite, but with a new, unmistakable sense of distance.

‘You didn’t bring Jess,’ he said, frowning at her car’s empty back seat.

‘I thought she might get too excited when she saw the cattle. I was worried I wouldn’t know how to handle her.’

His response was an unconcerned shrug, but Sally felt as if she’d made a mistake already.

It wasn’t a promising start.

She’d gone to a lot of trouble to prepare for this visit, not only double-checking the history of Moonlight Plains, but taking care with her wardrobe as well. She’d dressed for the stockyards in jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. Primarily, she’d hoped to look less citified, and if Luke asked her to help, she wanted to be ready. She’d even borrowed riding boots and an akubra from a girlfriend.

Admittedly, she knew zilch about branding and ear-tagging cattle, and now, one glance at Luke showed her that her clothes weren’t right after all. They were far too neat and new-looking, like something out of an RM Williams catalogue, compared with Luke’s authentically battered and faded jeans and his ripped and paint-spattered shirt.

As for his boots, they had the kind of creased and scuffed and covered-in-dust look that only a decade of living in the bush could achieve.

The result was inexplicably eye-catching.

Pity about his mood.

‘Ready?’ he asked when Sally was barely out of her car, and without another word he turned and headed for his ute.

‘Don’t you want to see your stained glass?’ Sally called after him.

‘Sorry, we need to get going,’ he replied over his shoulder. ‘I’ll take a look at it later.’

It was a quarter to eight. Sally had left home at six-thirty and she was sure Luke had told her that any time between seven and eight would be fine. ‘Am I late?’ she called after him.

‘No, but I want to get started. Everything’s set up.’

Puzzled, but having no choice, she grabbed her camera and notebook and hurried after him. By the time she scrambled into the ute, he’d already started the motor and, as she pulled the door shut, he shoved the gear into first and took off.

All right. I get the message.

She took a deep breath and told herself to calm down as Luke steered the ute over a rutted track through paddocks of pale-brown grass that shimmered prettily in the early sunlight. Ahead, through the windscreen, the sky was already a bright summer-blue and it stretched overhead as clean and fresh as a newly washed tablecloth hung out to dry.

‘It’s a gorgeous morning.’

Luke nodded but made no further comment.

Sally considered attempting further conversation, but it was pretty clear that this new, gruff Luke wouldn’t bother with a response, so she opted to remain silent.

At least it wasn’t far to the stockyards, which consisted, as far as Sally could see, of a pen of steers and a complicated network of timber and metal fences.

When Luke pulled to a halt, she decided this wasn’t the prudent moment to confess that she was a tiny bit scared of snorting, wild-eyed cows, and that she didn’t like the way they looked at her, not to mention what they might do with their horns and hooves.

She decided instead to road-test her new courage.

‘So what can I do to help?’ she asked, casting a scant eye at the pen of cattle and the mass of sleek hides and hooves.

Luke was watching her coolly from beneath the shabby brim of his akubra and he took his time to answer. ‘I think you’d better stick to taking pictures.’

Sally supposed she should feel relieved, but the new aloofness in his manner made her feel foolish. Inadequate, a useless city chick.

‘You should stay well out of the way,’ Luke added. ‘Don’t want you getting hurt.’

She couldn’t deny this was probably sensible, but she was subdued as she slung her camera strap around her neck and perched on a timber railing to watch while Luke set to work. It was hard work, she quickly realised. Damn hard.

To begin with, Luke had to cajole a steer out of the pen and into a race that led to the steel crush. Then he had to get swiftly to the crush and work levers so the beast was held still, before he performed at least four tasks in smooth and incredibly dexterous sequence.

In no time, Sally was quite mesmerised by the way he moved so fluidly back and forth.

Now she understood what he’d meant when he said he had everything set up. There was a pistol-like dispenser that he used to squirt anti-tick spray down a steer’s back, and when this was done, he grabbed a plastic bag of vaccine with a syringe attached and gave the beast a quick jab. After hanging the vaccination gear back on a peg, he moved quickly to the front of the crush to attach a plastic tag to the steer’s ear with something that looked like a stapler. Finally, he wielded the red-hot branding iron, applying it swiftly and precisely to the steer’s shoulder before flipping a lever and releasing the somewhat stunned animal into freedom.

Then it was time to start all over again.

Sally had expected to feel masses of sympathy for the poor cattle, but she had to admit they didn’t appear traumatised. In fact they seemed to recover quite quickly and were soon calmly munching the hay that Luke had strewn around the perimeter of the new holding yard.

But while the cattle gained a share of her attention and sympathy . . . if she was honest, she was mostly ogling Luke.

Actually, she was so busy watching him that she almost forgot to take photos. She was a bit ashamed about that, but surely any girl would find it hard to ignore his almost effortless grace and athleticism.

No wonder he was fit.

Now Sally understood how he was able to lift heavy timber beams as if they weighed no more than matchsticks.

Of course, it wasn’t long before she felt bad about sitting on the fence, an idle spectator, while Luke worked his guts out.

‘Hey,’ she called to him as he hurried past to usher yet another steer down the race. ‘I think it’s time I helped.’

Luke turned, frowning, tilting his akubra to block the sun’s glare and appraising her with a narrowed gaze.

Clearly he was considering her usefulness and Sally lifted her chin and tried to look confident. And competent.

‘Look, it’s okay, thanks,’ he said. ‘You stay there where you’re safe.’

‘No, Luke. No way!’ Annoyed, Sally jumped down from the railing, hastily looping her camera strap around a fence post. ‘I’ve been watching you, and I can see what happens. I’m sure I can at least work that gate and shoo the cattle while you get on with the business end.’

He stood a little longer, work-toughened hands poised lightly on his hips, his eyes still wary, his jaw set.

Sally was sure he was about to shake his head, but when he looked at her again, his expression was slightly less fierce.

‘Okay. Let me show you what to do,’ he said quietly.

Sally’s heartbeat took off at a gallop, but she flashed him a smile. After all, the steers were only half-grown, weren’t they? They couldn’t do too much harm.

Perhaps it was her smile that did the trick. The chill that she’d sensed in Luke ever since she’d arrived seemed to thaw a tad and his green eyes sparked with the ghost of an answering smile.

‘Come on,’ he said, giving a nod towards the pen.

Feeling braver than a gladiator entering the Colosseum, Sally followed him, carefully avoiding cowpats.

‘You need to approach the animal from the side,’ he explained. ‘So it separates from the mob.’

He handed her a long piece of plastic pipe that had been propped in a corner. ‘You can use this. Give the steer a tap on the back if you need to. The important thing is to make sure you’re always behind the cattle. Always.’

‘Got it.’

‘That’s important, Sal. Never get in front of them.’

‘I’ll remember.’

He looked worried again.

Sally waved her hand. ‘Go on. I’ll be okay. At least they’re not very big and they don’t have horns.’

‘I’ll stay here with you while you send the first one down.’

Leaning against a fence with his elbows propped on the top rail, he left Sally alone facing the mob.

Her heart was thumping as she took a minuscule step towards the nearest steer, which, although half-grown, seemed huge and menacing now.

‘Off you go,’ she told him.

The steer stared back at her blankly.

‘Come on,’ she urged. ‘It’s your turn. Luke won’t hurt you too much.’

Still the animal didn’t budge, and she shot a despairing glance over to Luke, watching her at the fence, his eyes squinting against the glare.

‘Get in a bit closer,’ he called.

Right.

Sally took another step and made a shooing gesture, and the steer lurched away, obviously frightened, dashing towards the opening to the race.

Thank God.

‘Way to go!’ Luke cheered, but immediately he was racing after the steer to attend to the branding.

Sally felt ridiculously pleased with herself.

She was still basking in the giddy joy of her success when Luke called, ‘Next!’

Yikes
. She was supposed to have had another steer ready and waiting.

Nine steers later, she was well into the swing of things. She’d worked out how to approach an animal so it moved forward straight away, and it was pretty easy once she got over her fear. She found it rather satisfying to come to grips with something so completely outside her experience.

It was quite an adventure, really.

‘Thanks for your help.’ Luke was smiling when they were finished. In fact, he’d sent her a few tummy-tumbling smiles during their teamwork.

‘You did well,’ he said.

‘You think so?’ His praise shouldn’t have mattered but it did.

‘Sure. You were a great help. I reckon you’re a natural.’

This time his smile was full-on, making the skin around his eyes crinkle. His teeth flashed white in his tanned and dusty face. Sally was relieved that they seemed to be friends again.

As he got busy packing up his gear and stowing it in the back of the ute, she checked the photos she’d taken, mostly close-ups of Luke caught in action, muscles straining, his face, shaded by his akubra, deep in concentration. She remembered how he’d looked on the night she met him at the Charters Towers ball, all handsome and spruce and dashing in a suit.

Today’s scenario couldn’t have been more different – out here beneath the blazing North Queensland sun with the scent of eau de cattle in the air – and yet Sally felt the same unmistakable sizzle.

It set her blood singing and robbed her of breath.

‘I could do with a swim,’ Luke said when the ute was loaded.

Sally laughed. She was covered in dust and her sweat had combined with the dust to make grime. ‘I’d give anything for a swim.’

‘Let’s go then. Just a quick dip in the river to cool off before we go back to the house.’

‘But I didn’t bring my bathers.’

‘Swim in your undies.’

Lightning flashed through her.

‘You’re in the bush,’ Luke said. ‘Out here we hardly ever swim in togs.’

She tried to recall which undies she was wearing. A sports bra and floral knickers, if she remembered rightly.
Not too shabby.

‘Look, if you’re concerned . . .’ Luke’s gaze was now fixed on the distant horizon. ‘You don’t have to worry, Sally. I meant it when I apologised for what I said last time. Nothing like that will happen again.’

‘Of course. I know.’ How hopeless she was to feel disappointed.

‘We’ve got an agreement, okay?’ He turned back to her, his gaze steady. ‘The only agenda for us now is your magazine story.’

‘Yes.’ Sally couldn’t believe the ridiculous regret that eddied through her. She knew she should be grateful that Luke had sensibly and thoughtfully set the record straight.

She tried to dig up a smile, but couldn’t find one. ‘Do you swim in the river?’

‘Yes. It’s not far.’

‘Is it safe?’

‘Of course. You can swim, can’t you?’

‘Sure.’ She loved swimming, actually.

‘Then come on. Let’s go.’

The section of river that Luke drove to was particularly beautiful. The edge of the water was shaded by magnificent river gums and creamy-trunked paperbarks, while direct sunlight dazzled the middle of the river. On the far side a sandy beach stretched, with another line of trees standing guard on the opposite bank.

The water came sweeping across from this other side, sparkling and clear, running shallow over gravel and sand until it pitched down into a deeper pool that was dammed about one hundred metres downstream by a rocky bar. It formed a perfect, naturally designed swimming hole that just called for anyone to jump in.

As the ute stopped in a clearing, a group of wallabies loped away like moving shadows and, out on the river, a flock of black ducks took off with a
thump, thump, thump
of their wings.

Luke jumped out and pulled off his shirt, revealing a broad golden chest and back, rippling and male.

Sally didn’t hang around to watch him strip down to his boxers. She ducked behind a clump of bushes to strip and by the time she emerged, wearing just her bra and knickers, Luke was already in the water.

He turned over, floating on his back, and waved as she made her way, self-consciously, down the grassy bank.