Sundown Crossing (11 page)

The old gates were wide open and the scrub was already laid flat by the comings and goings of at least one vehicle. He noted a compact car, a hired one no doubt, parked near the side of the cottage. A fair, no, ginger-haired boy was kicking a football around, bouncing it against the wall, catching it, then doing drop kicks. He wasn’t bad for someone so young. Luke got out of the car and began to walk towards the cottage. The boy
noticed him and ran over with the football tucked under one arm.

‘Hello, mister.’ Sam thought everyone was his friend. He propped and gave the man in the business suit a critical once-over. ‘You looking for my mum?’

‘I might be. Is your mum Carla Hunter?’ Luke asked though he was sure the boy was Carla’s son.

‘Yes.’ Sam pointed to the winery. ‘She and Angie are in there.’

‘And who might Angie be?’ Luke asked as he half-turned towards the winery.

‘Angie used to be Grandpa’s partner, she’s Mum’s friend and business partner now.’ Sam hesitated for a moment, then added in a quiet tone. ‘Grandpa died a little while ago. Angie’s a top–notch winemaker, you know.’

‘Is she really?’ Luke digested that information with increasing interest as he walked towards the open winery doors.

‘Wanna kick the ball around with me, mister?’

He stopped and turned to the boy. ‘That depends on what you play. League, Aussie Rules or Union?’

‘Rugby, of course,’ Sam answered huffily, his tone implying any other code wasn’t worth playing.

‘Maybe later, after I’ve talked to your mum.’

At that precise moment Carla came out of the winery and saw the man in his business suit talking to Sam. There was time for a quick,
assessing once-over before he saw her. He was tall and well built. His suit was well-cut and expensive, as were his custom-made shoes. He had black hair, neatly trimmed, an olive complexion and nice, even features without being what she considered handsome. And he carried himself in a way that intimated that he knew he was important.

Luke saw her. ‘Ms Hunter?’ He followed that up quickly with, ‘I’m Luke Michaels. We’ve corresponded regarding the sale of Krugerhoff.’

Luke watched Carla’s gaze narrow. The smile on her face froze then disappeared. Gloom descended on him; this wasn’t going to be easy. His aunt’s manner had Rolfe’s daughter’s hackles up. Lisel, when she put her mind to it, was good at putting people offside. But then, as he studied Carla, he saw something his aunt hadn’t mentioned: that Carla Hunter was almost a mirror image, a more modern version of his, their, grandmother. Josh Aldrich had noted the similarity but Luke hadn’t believed it until he saw it for himself. The hair, the Stenmark blue eyes. God, yes, she was a younger, taller Anna Louise.

‘Yes?’ Carla, still out of sorts over her treatment at Stenhaus, had no intention of cutting anyone who worked for the Stenmarks any slack. ‘I believe I rejected your last offer, Mr Michaels.’

‘That was before you saw Krugerhoff. You’ve been here a couple of days, I believe. Time enough to see how difficult it will be to restart
the vineyard—what it would cost. I’ve been authorised to increase my offer, another twenty-five thousand dollars.’

‘And who might the principal be, Mr Michaels? Carl Stenmark?’

‘I’m not at liberty to divulge that.’ His answer was evasive and he knew she knew it. ‘I’m offering you a good deal of money, Ms Hunter, a small fortune. And, what’s more, I’ll top anyone else’s bid for Krugerhoff. That’s a promise.’

‘Aahh, yes. I imagine Stenmark’s funds are limitless,’ Carla responded with a derisive curl of her lips. ‘I haven’t decided to sell Krugerhoff. I’m not sure that’s what my father wanted me to do.’

‘With due respect, it’s well known that your father kept Krugerhoff to annoy Grandfather, to get back at him for being disinherited.’ He saw her eyebrows rise. ‘Yes, our mutual grandfather. I’m Greta’s son.’

That made Carla’s anger rise another notch. ‘Neither you nor I can be certain of why my father kept the vineyard, Mr Michaels.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, call me Luke. After all, we are related.’

‘The fact of my blood tie to your family appeared to infuriate our mutual aunt,’ Carla slipped the remark in tongue-in-cheek. ‘She told me clearly what she thought of my relationship to the Stenmark family. Obviously she believes I’m trying to ingratiate myself into our grandfather’s good graces to improve my financial position.
Believe me, nothing could be further from the truth.’

For some reason, though he knew her financial situation wasn’t particularly healthy, Luke believed her. Damn Lisel and her sharp tongue! Her behaviour this afternoon was going to make it hellishly difficult for him to achieve what Grandfather expected of him—the speedy acquisition of Krugerhoff. He had been too young to remember when Rolfe had left Stenhaus, but over the years he had gleaned enough information about his uncle’s personality to know that he was an independent, determined man—much like his mother, Anna Louise. And if he wasn’t mistaken, Carla Hunter had inherited similar character traits that could make her difficult to deal with.

‘You and I, we’re not blood cousins, you know. I was adopted by my parents shortly after I was born.’ He watched her eyebrows rise again as she absorbed that news. Years of listening to his grandfather decry Rolfe’s behaviour and the untimely death of Kurt and Marta had bred an instinctive dislike of Rolfe in him, as he saw his grandfather’s pain. But in all fairness he was beginning to query why a similar attitude should apply to Carla Hunter.

‘That’s of little interest to me. You’re a Stenmark and you do Carl Stenmark’s bidding. I may decide to keep Krugerhoff and move here.’

‘That’d be foolish, Carla.’

‘Why?’

‘Two reasons. It’s my understanding that you don’t have the funds to resurrect the vineyard, and my grandfather wants this land. Before it became Krugerhoff it belonged to the Stenmarks, to my late grandmother who willed it to Rolfe. Grandfather wants it back and he’ll do anything in his power to get it.’

‘Anything,
you say?’ Carla curled her lip at him. ‘Would he go as far as to welcome Sam and myself into the family? Would he set aside his stupid hatred for my father to get Krugerhoff?’

Luke didn’t give her a direct answer because he knew it would make her angry. Instead, he said, ‘Pardon my saying, but I don’t think you have any idea of the power of Rhein Schloss. If you choose to stay here, life could be made,’ he paused, ‘difficult for you and your son.’

Carla stared at him for a moment before responding. ‘That sounds very much like a threat, Luke Michaels. What is it with you Stenmarks?’ Her hands rose to her hips as she planted her feet more aggressively. ‘You think you can ride roughshod over everyone! That attitude doesn’t sit well with me so you can take yourself and your offer and,’ her blue eyes glinted in the rays of the setting sun, ‘I think you know where you can put it.’

Luke stiffened. ‘Carla, you’re making a mistake if…’

It gave her pleasure to interrupt him. ‘Then it will be my mistake not yours. As I told your henchman, Aldrich, earlier, get off my land, Luke
Michaels and don’t come back unless you’re invited to, which I doubt you ever will be.’

Kim Loong, invisible in the darkening shadows of the winery building, put her hand over her mouth to contain the giggle on hearing Krugerhoff’s owner tell Luke Michaels, a Stenmark, no less, to get off her land. Oh, she liked the red-haired woman’s spirit. Yes, indeed, very much. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the back of Carla Hunter. The woman was going to stay, so her intuition told her. Many times, when growing up Kim had had to be guided by her intuition. So far this sense had not failed her, and having it had saved her young life more than once.

All day she had been mulling over what it would mean for the Loongs if the woman and her family decided to stay. She, Tran and Su Lee were comfortable in their make-do accommodation for now. Kim did not want to leave. She had become accustomed to their tiny abode, used to the privations of no running water, electricity, refrigeration. They…managed. She knew Tran was eager for more, that he looked with envious eyes upon what others in the Valley had. She looked too, but was content to bide her time, to wait until they had saved more money. Su Lee was happy just to be with them rather than being on the farm working like no child should and wondering if and when she was old enough she would be forced into a loveless marriage or domestic servitude.

Her thoughts crystallised into a decision as she continued to observe the red-haired woman watching Luke Michaels’s retreat. Yes, she would do it, now, even though the woman might still have some residual anger in her. As she stepped out of the shadows she saw the blonde woman leading the boy into the cottage. Good, there would be no interruptions—

‘Miss…?’

Carla Hunter spun around. Her face betrayed shock as she stared at the slim, small figure of Kim Loong. Blue eyes surveyed Kim and then the surrounding area to see if anyone else was with her. ‘Who are you, and what are you doing here?’ she asked in her no-nonsense voice.

‘My…name is Kim Loong. My brother and I are labourers. We work in Valley, in the vineyards. Anywhere we can get employment. I hear you talk to Mr Michaels. You going to stay, yes?’

Carla’s lips thinned. Was everyone, even the labourers in the Valley, curious to know whether she was staying or going? ‘That’s my business, er, Kim. I haven’t decided yet.’ Which wasn’t exactly the truth but neither was it an outright lie. ‘Do you live around here?’

‘Yes,’ Kim smiled briefly.
‘Here.’

It was getting dark, and Carla was tired. It had been a long day of ups and downs, disappointments and hopes. She tried to contain her impatience. ‘What do you mean by “here”?’

‘My family—Tran, Su Lee and me—we live in there,’ she pointed to the winery building.
‘We live here several months. Tran made a room for us.’

‘You’re not illegals, are you?’ When Kim shook her head, Carla then said, ‘You know you’re trespassing, don’t you?’

Kim shrugged but it was not a casual gesture, it was more of an admission. ‘We genuine Vietnamese migrants. We knew no one ever came here so we thought it safe. We have seen no one until you and your family came the day before yesterday. We have done no damage, caused no harm…’

Frowning but intrigued by the Asian woman and the fact that she’d been squatting unnoticed on Krugerhoff for months, Carla’s curiosity got the better of her. ‘Show me where.’

Kim led Carla across the winery building’s floor to the area Tran had made into a home. She pulled the sheet of galvanised iron back and invited Krugerhoff’s owner inside.

‘This my sister, Su Lee,’ Kim introduced the child who was boiling water for rice on the single burner camp stove.

The interior reminded Carla of photographs she had seen of Asian peasants’ huts. Neat, clean, a minimum of furniture and possessions. Two old push-bikes hung from hooks on the wall—obviously their mode of transport.

Carla was amused by, even admiring of, Kim’s honesty, her ingenuity and her boldness. Kim must have suspected that their hideaway would be found soon and had decided to make their
presence known before that happened. Clever of her. She fired a raft of questions at Kim—about hygiene, what work experience she and her brother had, where they’d come from and what her future plans were. Kim’s answers were disarmingly honest.

‘One day I like to open a restaurant. Su Lee and I will cook, Tran will look after customers. One day…’ Kim’s voice trailed off though the expression on her face was bright and full of hope. She stared up at Carla. ‘You let us stay till you decide what you do?’

Carla chewed her lower lip as she thought about Kim’s question. ‘I don’t know if I can. Local authorities wouldn’t like that you are living in…in such conditions.’

Kim nodded solemnly and then made her offer. ‘If you stay, we work for you. A lot of work needs to be done to make, how you say? Good again. We tidy, clean, paint, see to vines. Tran and I know how to do that. Much work needed here, Ms Hunter.’

Carla couldn’t halt the sigh. ‘I know.’

Something about Kim touched her. The woman was a battler, trying to do her best for herself, her brother and sister. In the same way that she was trying to do her best for Angie and Sam. In that respect they had similar goals and hopes. For her, tonight was crunch night with regard to Krugerhoff. When they got to the motel and after Sam had settled she and Angie would go over the figures, the possibilities and after that she would
make her decision. God, if only she had someone to advise her. If she decided to stay she would be pitting her youth and determination against the Stenmarks. Could she win? She stared at Kim as she thought that. Then she grinned at Kim. Why not? She already had staff willing to work hard for her!

‘Ms Hunter, what will you do about us?’ ‘For the moment, nothing. You’re free to stay until I work out what I’m going to do.’

Kim made a little bow. ‘Oh, thank you. You not regret your,’ she visibly struggled for the right word, ‘generosity.’

That night Angie and Carla talked until well after midnight, going over figures, debating positives and negatives, the do’s and don’ts, until both were verbally and emotionally spent. Deciding to sleep on it, they settled into their beds but Carla knew she would get little sleep. So much hinged on what she decided to do. During the night she dreamt of her father, that he was smiling and urging her to give Krugerhoff a chance. By morning, when Sam shook her by the shoulder to wake her, her decision had been made. They would give Krugerhoff three to five years to turn things around and make a profit, during which time Carla would work on the Stenmarks to wear down their resistance towards her and Sam. Once they saw that, like her father, she was determined to make the vineyard a success and become part of the Barossa Valley, they would come round. Of course they would!

C
arl Stenmark’s large fist thumped the table in Rhein Schloss’s executive boardroom. He stared disbelievingly at John and Luke Michaels who’d just given him some unwelcome information. Lisel sat quietly at the table, about halfway down its length, pretending to sift through a pile of paperwork.

‘What do you mean, she’s staying?’ Carl roared.

‘That’s the word around Nuriootpa. The township’s abuzz with the news,’ John told Carl. ‘According to Aldrich her friend, Angie Dupayne, a credible winemaker with lots of experience, has been seen around town, opening accounts though she mostly pays cash for equipment and materials. And she’s talked to an engineering company about checking the winery’s machinery.’ He added hastily, ‘I believe she’s asked Paul van Leeson to advise on building repairs at the vineyard too.’

‘A bulldozer’s already come in to clear the scrubby areas around the place.’ Lisel offered the information she’d got directly from Josh.

John looked at Carl then, uncomfortable with his father-in-law’s anger, his gaze skittered away to the other end of the boardroom table. ‘Looks like they mean business, Carl.’

‘I don’t believe it.’ Carl shook his head, his complexion becoming more ruddy by the second. ‘The woman must be crazy.’

‘She could be wanting to clean things up to get a better price,’ Luke offered the suggestion tentatively though his heart told him it wasn’t so. He had seen the gleam of battle in Carla Hunter’s eyes and recognised it. His grandfather got the same look when he was planning a new venture.

Carl rose and began to pace the length of the boardroom, hands behind his back, his brows drawn together in a frown. He stopped suddenly to stare in Luke’s direction. ‘Well, what are we going to do about it? About her!’

‘We could put the word out to make life difficult for them,’ John offered the thought. ‘Have people not give them what they need. Black-list them for labouring. If they can’t get the existing vines ready for spring growth and flowering they’ll have wasted a whole season. That would probably finish them off financially.’

‘How would that make us look?’ Luke queried his father. ‘Goliath triumphant over David. We have a reputation in the Valley for being businesslike, as well as fair! I don’t think we
should put Rhein Schloss’s image at risk by behaving unscrupulously. My suggestion is that we wait them out. When they fail and the vineyard drains all their money, they’ll be more amenable to selling.’

‘I think we should…’ Lisel began, then she stopped for a moment to think it through. ‘There are many ways to discourage people, to erode their confidence. Accidents happen. Equipment goes missing or won’t work. Vines can be sabotaged.’ She stared pointedly at her father. ‘Papa, we all know there are certain people in the Valley who will, for a price, do anything one wants them to do.’

Carl nodded, but the gravity of his frown increased as he stared at Lisel. ‘I am not going to ask you how you know such things, however, I draw the line at countenancing illegal acts. Besides…’ He appeared to come to a mental decision and shrugged. ‘Rolfe’s daughter cannot succeed. She will tire of the hard work, the uncertainties. It’s a mammoth task she has set herself and I am sure, with her background, that it’s beyond her capabilities.’ He nodded as he made his statement. ‘We will do as Luke suggests. Wait. Come spring she will give up. But,’ he looked at each of them in turn, ‘let it be known, subtly, that she is not welcome here. We’ll see how many people offer a helping hand, knowing that Rhein Schloss does not approve of her being one of the Valley’s winegrowers.’

They all nodded in agreement.

Having made the decision to stay, Carla and Angie drew up a list of priorities. At the top of the list was the need to make the cottage habitable, and to find suitable accommodation for the Loong family. To do that they needed expert advice from Paul van Leeson. He was only too pleased to help.

He came one afternoon as Carla and Angie were finishing a good day’s work cleaning as much of the cottage as they could before starting to paint the interior. The painting had to be done in a week because Carla and Sam were flying back to New Zealand to settle Carla’s affairs—resigning her position at school, selling Valley View and putting their flat in Christchurch on the market.

‘It’s quite sound, structurally,’ Paul declared after tramping around the cottage inside and out. He checked the foundations underneath then clambered up into the roof, a real feat for someone so tall.

‘I’d like to turn the garage into an office and put an entry door at the end of the living area into it. Can that be done?’ Carla asked, aware of how scruffy she must look. Her clothes were filthy, her hair was a wild, sweaty tangle and she’d glimpsed her face in the bathroom mirror an hour ago and seen several smudges of dirt there. She glanced towards Angie and suddenly she didn’t feel so bad. Angie looked equally disreputable.

‘Sure,’ Paul acceded. ‘I can put you on to a builder who won’t take you to the cleaners.’ He saw the tins of paint in a corner of the living room. ‘Going to do the painting yourself?’

‘Of course. I don’t mind paying tradespeople to do things I can’t do, but where possible we have to save money. We’ll paint and do most of the labouring work around the vineyard ourselves.’

‘Makes sense, I’m a bit the same way myself. I’m a pretty dab hand with a paintbrush,’ he said unabashedly, ‘I’ll give you a hand on the weekend, if you like.’

‘Oh, no…’

Angie dug her elbow into Carla’s ribs. ‘An extra pair of hands would be wonderful, Paul. We’d appreciate your help.’ She ignored Carla’s if looks-could-kill expression. ‘There’s something else. We want to accommodate the Loongs at the vineyard. They’re going to help get the vines in order and they don’t have anywhere decent to live. What do you suggest?’

Paul’s pencil tapped staccato style on his clipboard. ‘I assume you don’t want to build another cottage. That would take time and be expensive.’ Moving restlessly around the living room, he screwed up his mouth as he considered the question. ‘What I did when I was building my place was to live in an on-site caravan for a year. I had the water and electricity hooked up and a portable loo. You could do something similar. Buy or lease a good-sized caravan, one with a kitchen and shower and toilet, and put it on-site.’

‘That’s a great idea,’ Angie said. ‘We could fence it off to give them some privacy too. Would the local council agree to it?’

‘Should do, providing you hook water, electricity and sewerage up to their requirements,’ Paul said.

Though Carla didn’t say so, she was impressed with Paul’s idea. She had been racking her brains to come up with a way of accommodating the Vietnamese family who were already proving to be invaluable. Kim and Tran worked hard and without complaint, and Su Lee had made friends with Sam. There were several years difference in their ages but they had become, over several days, practically inseparable; playing together and exploring the bushland close by. They were off somewhere now and wouldn’t come back until tea time.

‘I should check the winery while I’m here,’ Paul suggested.

‘Go with Paul, Carla, I’ll tidy up here,’ Angie offered in mock-innocence as she gathered up a pile of dirty rags and a box that contained several bottles and cans of cleaning items.

From a position just inside the winery doorway, Carla watched Paul tramp the length and breadth of the winery, inspecting the metal beams, studying the part-concrete floor, even climbing a ladder he found lying against the wall to inspect the rafters. He didn’t take any notice of the vats or the winemaking equipment because
that wasn’t his field of expertise. Finally he came back to where Carla stood.

‘Whoever built this did a first-class job, the building appears to be in good nick. Materials were top quality and chosen to last. I don’t think you’ll have any structural problems but you should get a viticulture specialist to check out the winemaking equipment.’

‘Angie’s organised that. She knows someone at the viticulture research station and he’s coming over tomorrow for a look-see.’

He gave her a slow, considering look. ‘So, I take it you’re serious about starting the vineyard again, not just living in the cottage?’

It was more a statement than a question but she answered anyway. ‘Deadly serious.’

‘How do you think that sits with the Stenmarks?’

She could have been offended by his nosiness but she sensed by his expression, the way he’d looked around the winery and the vines, that his interest was sincere. ‘Not very well.’ Her answer was honest. ‘They’ve already made it known that I’m not welcome here.’ She shrugged, intimating that their opinion wasn’t important. ‘Our life’s been tough since my husband died. Constantly playing catch-up with the bills because my teaching career’s limited too. I see the vineyard as an opportunity to get what I can’t get in Christchurch. I believe that’s why Dad held onto it, to provide financial security for the three of us.’

‘You could be taking a big risk.’

Carla smiled briefly. She glanced towards him and studied his face, which was a stretch because he was so tall. ‘I know.’ The risk factor was something she had spent many hours agonising about. ‘A big risk for a big gain. Three to five years of hard work for Angie and myself, but once the vineyard is re-established and producing a vintage our lives will be more pleasant.’ She smiled again, almost dreamily. ‘That’s a goal to look forward to.’

‘I agree.’ Paul said with a nod, then asked, ‘Do you intend to use the name Krugerhoff? It might be time to rename the vineyard.’ He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. ‘Something more Australian and less German perhaps, as other vineyards have done. Jacob’s Creek, Jackson’s Landing, Bethany Wines, there are so many. A new name’s often thought up when new owners take over an existing winery.’

‘I hadn’t given a name change a thought.’ Perhaps she should! A new venture, a new name. Paul might have a good point. She’d talk to Angie, get her thoughts on the matter.

‘The people in the Valley know this place as Krugerhoff but the vineyard never retailed its first vintage or sold a single bottle of wine.’

‘That’s true.’ Curiosity made her throw him a searching look. ‘Any suggestions?’

‘Mm, let me think about it.’ His angular face, not handsome but with an innate strength to it, became thoughtful, intense. He stared down at Carla’s red hair for several moments then at the
acres of wild vines that were shedding their leaves, with a stand of tall gum trees in the background where the creek meandered through the property. It was late in the afternoon and the bush and sky had a soft apricot tinge. ‘How about
Hunter’s Crossing?
Your surname is Hunter, and the creek crosses your land twice. How does that sound? No,’ he raced on before she could give an opinion, ‘better still, what about
Sundown Crossing?’
he grinned with satisfaction. ‘You can’t get much more Australian than that.’

Carla’s gaze also narrowed on the vines with their reddish, orange hue and the pale pre-sunset sky. ‘Sundown Crossing.’ She silently mouthed the name several times. She liked it. ‘I’ll run the idea by Angie, see what she thinks. She’s more of an expert than I am.’

By mutual consent they began to walk towards his Land Rover. He opened the driver’s door. ‘What time would you like me here on Saturday morning, paintbrush in hand and overalls on?’

She tried to give him an out if he wanted one. ‘Really, you don’t have to…’

He pulled a comical face but his tone was firm. ‘I want to, Carla. When you know me better you’ll see that I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. For instance, I must be the only person with acreage in the Valley
not
growing grapes. Doing so doesn’t interest me. I prefer to drink the wine rather than labour over the grapes that produce it.’ He looked down at her. ‘Shall we say seven?’

‘Seven-thirty.’ Carla watched him get into the four-wheel drive and close the door. He grinned as he said goodbye and turned the motor on. There was something about Paul van Leeson that was eminently likeable and, she suspected, beneath his easygoing manner was a man of quiet strength and determination. She stayed to watch him back all the way out to the road and disappear out of sight.

Sam and Carla were gone for more than a month. When they returned to the Barossa, after completing the sale of Valley View and accepting an offer on the flat in Christchurch, Carla was amazed at the improvements made to the vineyard. She was sure that Angie and the Loongs had to have worked from sunrise to and beyond sunset to have accomplished so much in so short a time.

There was a new, professionally painted sign on sturdy posts bearing the name
Sundown Crossing Winery
near the entrance. The rusty gates had been disposed of and two cement-rendered columns, two metres high, with large, open wrought-iron gates, greeted her as she drove her second-hand car, newly acquired in Adelaide, down a recently gravelled road to the cottage. A rose garden had been planted at the front of the cottage because roses were susceptible to the same diseases the vines were and growing them acted as a gauge for the vines’ general health. There had been considerable
recent rain and the natural depression at the front of the cottage had become a small pond on which several ducks happily quacked and swam.

Looks so…country. It might be worthwhile making the pond a regular feature, Carla thought as she and Sam, dragging their luggage behind them, walked up onto the verandah. Angie met them at the front door with a prolonged hug for each.

‘I’ve missed you two so much,’ Angie said, tears making her grey eyes glitter.

‘From the looks of what you’ve done I’m amazed you’ve had time to miss anyone. The place looks fantastic.’ Carla’s gaze roved around the living room. Newly furnished, it looked homey and welcoming.

Sam dropped his backpack on the floor and asked, ‘Where’s my room, Angie?’

‘Past the bathroom. Last room down the hall.’

He scooted off to investigate and the women smiled at each other when they heard his whistle and ‘It’s cool’ echo back along the hall.

‘Sam seems to approve,’ Carla could barely stifle a yawn. ‘I’m sorry I left you to do everything.’