The Rouseabout Girl (15 page)

She watched from the window as the two men loaded the stock into the truck and when Jard returned to the room, she flung around to face him, eyes glinting with anger. ‘Why,’ she demanded, ‘did you stop Mervyn from coming to collect me to go to that dance?’ A sudden thought spun through her mind. ‘You don’t mind my going there, do you?’

‘Mind?’ He bent on her his cold forbidding stare. ‘Why should I mind? Since you’re asking, I would have imagined that Sandy could put you right on that one.’

‘Sandy?’ Bewilderment clouded her gaze. ‘What has
he got to
—
’

‘Forget it!’ He stopped her with his hard tone. ‘Put it this way, all I’m doing is helping your young man to save his petrol.’

‘He’s
not
my young man!’ she returned fiercely.

‘Well then, it doesn’t matter, does it?’ he suggested with deceptive gentleness. ‘Just get one thing straight
—
I’ll be taking you to that show tomorrow night.’

She eyed him incredulously. ‘You will?’

‘Why not? When anyone in the district puts on a woolshed dance, everyone for miles around is
welcome
there, and that includes Mum, Dad and the kids.’
So
don
’
t get any mistaken notions into your head about
my
having any personal feelings in the matter.
Is that
what
you’re trying to get through to me, boss?

Sticking to her guns in spite of
everything,
she
said
doggedly, ‘But he was coming to pick me up.’
Somehow
now that she had put the thought
into words, it seemed
a trivial matter to be arguing about.
Nevertheless.
..

‘No need.’ He simply wiped the suggestion.
‘He’d
have been wasting his time and his
petrol!
’

So, Lanie thought resentfully, he had
succeeded in
defeating her just as he had talked
Mervyn into
accepting his orders. The master of
Rangimarie had
spoken, she thought ruefully, and taking in the hard unyielding lines of his face, she didn’t see how she could alter the arrangements. She said coldly, ‘I really don't mind about going to the dance. I mean, please don’t put yourself out on my account.’

‘No trouble.’ For a timeless moment his gaze meshed in hers and once again those twin flames kindled in his eyes. With an effort she wrenched her glance aside and brought her mind back to his dispassionate tones. ‘I was going along anyway.’

Humiliation washed over her, and with it came a hot tide of anger. Never ever, she told herself with heightened colour, had she hated anyone as she hated this man! ‘Please,
please
,’ she offered up a prayer, ‘let him ask me to dance with him, just once would do, so that I can
turn him down flat

CHAPTER
EIGHT

Next
day she awoke early and soon she was strolling out into the early morning air, fresh with the salty tang of the sea. All around her she was aware of colour and life and movement. How anyone could find station life lonely, she mused, was something she would never understand.

As she neared the stables she caught sight of Brent’s lanky frame as he led a station hack down the green slope nearby and she hurried to meet him, the sun turning her red-gold hair to flame.

His eyes softened with pleasure at sight of Lanie’s slim young figure and alive expression, but she was aware only of the mount he was leading. She patted the mare’s sturdy neck. ‘Can’t wait to get going! Tell me, what’s he
r
name?’

‘Trixie, and they tell me she’s just the one for you. No hang-ups over a bush fire, steady as a rock no matter what!’

She pulled a face at him.

‘Not to worry,’ he assured her, ‘she can travel if you want her to. Want me to give you a demo?’

Her laughing gaze challenged him. ‘You’re on!’

‘Right!’ He threw the bridle over the mare’s head, sprang into the saddle and guided the mount towards the flat below. Then, leaning forward in the saddle, he urged her on until the flying hooves were at full gallop and horse and rider seemed to merge into one.

A hand shielding her eyes against the sun-glare, Lanie watched as Brent dropped the mare to a walk, then reaching Lanie's side, he dropped lightly down to the dried grass.
‘
Well, what do you think? Will she do?’

‘Will she ever!’ Lanie stroked the bay mare's velvety nose.

‘Right!’ He gave her a leg up into the saddle. ‘Jard
told me to give you a message. Seems he wants you to go over the ridge over thataway,’ he waved a hand in the direction of a sun-dried slope, ‘and check on the dams down in the gully. Orders are you have to call it a day at midday.’

‘Oh?’ She drew rein, surprised at the words. ‘I wonder why midday?’

He grinned. ‘You’ll soon know after you’ve spent a few hours in the saddle in the heat! See you!’ He stood watching her as she turned her mount and rode away.

Hours later, when the sun was high in the blue translucent bowl of the sky, Lanie had to admit that maybe, just maybe, there had been good sense in Jard’s advice. She had been riding for miles following the course of a creek deep in a green gully, and now had to admit to a longing she had had for quite a time, to return to the homestead.

When she reached the house she showered, changed her shirt and jeans, and went into the dining room where the others were seated around the table. Jard, entering the room at the same moment, sent her an assessing glance.
‘
How are you feeling, Lanie?’

She was aching in every limb, but she forced a carefree smile, at least she hoped it looked carefree. ‘Never better!’

He eyed her with his penetrating glance. ‘All the same, you wouldn't say no to a free afternoon?’

‘Oh
no
!’
Her expression of relief betrayed her feelings. Everyone laughed, including the big boss himself. It was Sandy who pulled out a chair for her and said warmly, ‘You’ve done a good job, by the sound of things.’

‘Has she?’ Jard’s cold tones cut in. She met his familiar cool glance. 'How was the creek? Water dried up in any of the shallow spots!’

He made her so angry! Was he deliberately baiting her? Clearly he still distrusted her, believing her to be incapable of doing a job properly. The thought sparked her to spring to her feet. She lifted her rounded chin and sent him a smart salute. ‘Reporting all stock accounted for—creek water all present and correct
—
sir!’ Amidst the gale of laughter echoing around her she dropped back to her seat.

Edna was laughing so heartily she had to wipe her streaming eyes with her apron, the one Lanie had worn throughout her brief period as cook. She recognised it by the many burn holes, although the grease marks had been washed away. ‘I really don’t know what we’d do without you, Lanie,’ Edna said affectionately. ‘You certainly brighten up the day!’

Lanie didn’t answer. She was stealing a glance from under her eyelashes at Jard. His face was set and unsmiling and it was clear that she didn’t brighten up the boss’s day one little bit!

Late in the afternoon, feeling surprisingly refreshed after the break, she decided to take a stroll down to a part of the station she hadn’t yet explored where she had noticed the neatly painted white timber cottages occupied by the two young shepherds and their families. The men she had met briefly, but she hadn’t yet made the acquaintance of their wives, and this seemed a good time to do something about it.

Long before she came in sight of the stockyards she caught the lowing of cattle, and presently she recognised Jard’s tall sinewy frame in the dust of the yards. He was busy ear-tagging steers and appeared not to notice her wave of greeting. She was conscious of an odd sense of disappointment. Come to think of it, she mused, for one reason or another he was a lot in her thoughts. She found herself dwelling on him—well, most of the time, her gaze seeking his erect figure as he rode past the homestead on his white horse Snow. Or searching the dusk for his return at the end of his day's work. Evenings too ... strange how empty the lounge seemed to her when he had left the room to catch up with paper work in his office or to go to the billiard room up the hall with Sandy.

Jard
...
her random steps took her far along the winding path, but she was unaware of her surroundings. Always about him she sensed an air of aloofness that
she never seemed able to penetrate, yet somehow he fascinated her. Could it be because she both hated and—she brought her thoughts up with a jerk, appalled at the direction in which they were leading. Absurd, she chided herself. They had known each other for so brief a time. But what has time to do with love? a voice queried deep in her mind. Like it or not, she had to admit that he strode endlessly through her dreams, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. His hard-muscled body and supple strength, his moments of unexpected tenderness. What would it be like, the thought came unbidden, to be loved by a man of Jard’s calibre? But of course, unconsciously she sighed, he had his Paula. Paula, who was such a fitting match for him. She had
'
every attribute he could want in a girl. Beauty, sophistication, similar interests and there seemed little doubt but that she was crazy about him. Fool, she scolded herself, he’s way out of your reach! Forget him. If only she could.

Absorbed in her thoughts as she was, it was with a shock of surprise that she realised her steps had brought her to a neat paling fence enclosing a white painted cottage. She must put Jard out of her mind and concentrate on other matters or she was lost indeed. She pressed a finger to the doorbell, but although she heard it jangling inside the house, there was no answer to the summons and at length she wandered down a flower-bordered path to the rear of the dwelling. Two young women wearing colourful su
n
-frocks were seated on the springy green grass while a toddler, vigorously banging pot lids, was seated between them.

‘I know you!’ A fair-haired girl, extremely slim with a sensitive face, got to her feet.
‘It
’s Elaine, from the house isn’t it? I’m Debbie. Take a seat.’ She pulled forward a canvas chair.

Lanie smiled, ‘That’s me.’ Ignoring the chair, she dropped down to the clipped lawn grass. ‘What an adorable little boy. Is he yours?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Debbie, ‘he’s mine, and Rob’s. Do you know Rob? See one, you see the other.’

‘I’
ve met him, just for a minute.’

‘Oh, sorry, Mary,’ Debbie turned to her friend, ‘this is Elaine.’

‘We’ve been dying to meet you.’ She was a short girl, rather plain in appearance, with short-cropped black hair. ‘We’ve been looking forward to seeing you at the dance tonight.’

‘You’re going?’

‘Hope so. That’s why we’ve got our hair in rollers. We’re getting ready for a night out. It all depends on Clara. She’s promised to baby sit for Debbie, but she might just get one of her headaches on the wrong night. Anyway, we’re keeping our fingers crossed!’

Both girls were eyeing Lanie with interest and she guessed that the company of young women of their own age didn’t often come their way. ‘Don’t tell me,’ she laughed, reaching out a hand to clasp the plump fingers of the small boy, who was taking an unsteady step towards her, ‘I know what you're going to say! What are you going to wear?’

The words came in unison and ended up in laughter. The next moment the child, after an uncertain glance towards his young mother, joined in the merriment.

‘It’s not really a problem with me,’ Lanie explained, ‘seeing I have only one dance frock—and I only hope,’ she added doubtfully, ‘that it won’t look too dressed up for a country hop. It’s one of those sheer dresses, pale grey with a pleated shirt.’

‘I know what you mean.’ Debbie’s voice held a wistful note. ‘They’re all the rage in town, judging by the fashion ads in the newspapers. Oh well, I guess our old faithfuls will have to see us through for one more time!’

‘The main thing,’ Mary comforted her briskly, ‘is being there. I'll go up the wall before long if I don’t get some social
l
ife!’

‘Should be fun.’ Thoughtfully Lanie pulled at a long blade of grass as she tried to find the right words to frame the question that trembled on her lips. ‘Do the others up at the house go to the woolshed do’s?’

‘Edna and Clara used to," it was Mary who answered the query. ‘Just to look on and meet everyone there, but they haven’t bothered lately. Sandy doesn’t dance, he told me once he’s always regretted not having learned
the know-how, and Jard
—
’

Lanie found she was holding her breath for the next words. ‘He only goes along if he takes Paula with him,’ Debbie said lightly.’ I guess those two are so used to each other’s steps they wouldn’t even know they
w
ere dancing! Paula usually comes here early in the day when something’s on at night. It’s funny,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘that she hasn’t arrived already.’

‘I know she’s home again, came back yesterday.’ Mary’s tones seem to have some hidden implication. ‘I can’t imagine Jard going to the dance without her. And any of the other guys here could see to the transport. It’s very strange.’

Debbie said, smiling, ‘Maybe he’s taking an interest in some other girl—at last.’

‘Or Paula turned him down?’

‘Are you joking? She’d never do that!’

Lanie couldn’t help feeling a sneaky sense
of
relief when the toddler fell to the grass and his loud cries
of
anguish brought the conversation to an end.

Presently Debbie went into the house, to return with a tray holding steaming mugs of coffee, and soon both girls were plying Lanie with tales of the station and the endlessly enthralling matters concerning the change
of
seasons and work and stock, and the friends they termed ‘neighbours’, though they lived in homesteads scattered far over the hills.

Later, as she strolled back along the winding track, she mused how strange it was that the two young wives, just like the men who worked for Jard, appeared to share this feeling that he was someone special, a man of substance and authority who was thoughtful and considerate to those who were associated with him, a runholder noted for his fair dealing. She gathered the impression that to be in Jard’s employ was sufficient to guarantee a shepherd or stockman a worthwhile job on
any one of the great stations throughout the country. It seemed that Jard’s name held a special sort of magic for everyone at Rangimarie.
Just as it does you?
She thrust the ridiculous thought aside.

That evening Lanie found herself taking particular pains with her appearance. It was fun to be getting ready for a dance, to dress up a little and change from jeans and T-shirt that had become a standard wear for her nowadays. Tonight, preferring a natural look, she left her complexion clear and made up her eyes with blue
-
grey shadow and mascara. Then, studying her reflection in the mirror, she pulled her bright hair back from her face and twisted it high in a topknot. There! At least she looked a little more dignified, a trifle older, if not all that sophisticated, she decided with some satisfaction. Sophistication, however, made her remember Paula and somehow the thought of the other girl was definitely depressing. She couldn’t think why. Could it be, the thought came unbidden, because Jard seemed wrapped up in Paula? She thrust the ridiculous supposition aside and concentrated on her dress, pulling over her head the diaphanous drift of misty grey, its soft folds falling in just the right places to accentuate her petite figure.

She fastened tiny silver ear
ri
ngs in her ears and slipped her feet into high-heeled silver sandals. Then as an
afterthought she pinned to her shoulder the pink, perfumed silk rose that by some lucky chance she had packed in her travel bag.

The loud tooting of car horns brought her to the window, and she peered into the gathering darkness where two cars were sweeping past the homestead entrance. Probably, she mused, the vehicles would take care of the transport for the married shepherds and their wives together with the stockmen employed on the station. If so then she would be driven to her destination by the big boss himself! The prospect was disturbing, and she only hoped that Edna had had second thoughts about giving
t
he social evening a miss tonight in favour of her favourite television programme.

It was a forlorn hope she realised the moment she went into the lounge room, for Clara had already left the house on her babysitting stint while Edna, her knitting lying on her ample lap, was gazing fixedly towards the small screen. At that moment, however, she caught sight of Lanie, looking sweet and fresh and glowingly attractive. ‘You look lovely, pet!’

‘It’s not really me,’ Lanie disclaimed modestly, ‘it’s the dress.’

‘Rubbish!’ Sandy had come to join them, his twinkling gaze resting on Lanie’s young face. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes tonight, lass, and no mistake!’

She was scarcely aware of his words, for Jard had come into the room
. The
bush shirt and denim jeans he had worn during the day had been replaced by immaculate fawn slacks and a fine cream polo-necked sweater. Freshly shaven, his thatch of tawny hair was brushed sleekly down over his sun-tanned forehead and he looked, Lanie had to admit to herself, extremely attractive—even with the cold unyielding look in his eyes that he seemed to keep just for her!

‘
Looks a picture, doesn’t she?’ Sandy jerked his head towards Lanie. ‘Don’t you agree?’ His smiling gaze challenged his son.

Lanie held her breath for the answer. She was all too aware of Jard’s veiled glance flickering over her face with obvious lack of interest. Trust him not to answer that one, she thought ruefully, and brought her mind back to the curt tones. ‘Sure, sure—let’s get going, shall we?’

She tried not to let the disappointment show. The brief moments of pleasure the compliments on her appearance had brought her, died away and instead came the familiar sense of conflict. Had she really expected Jard to hand out flattering comments about her? She must have been out of her mind to even think of such a thing! None of her chagrin, however, showed in her face as she bade Sandy and Edna goodbye.