Joan Kilby - Home to Hope Mountain

He threw her a glance filled with suppressed annoyance and chagrin. Had she hit a sore spot?

Diane had thrown a divorce party last year. Hayley and Leif had been the only locals, and she’d felt uncomfortable. But Diane and her friends regularly went on trail rides, so she supposed Diane was being polite.

“Even if you don’t want to live here, Diane will be back eventually, when her mother gets better,” Hayley said.

“I’ll have to discuss it with her. She hinted before she left that she may not want to come back.”

“Seems a shame to take Summer away, though.”

Adam stopped walking and planted his hands on his hips. “Yes, but this is where my sweet, smart, sunny little girl has inexplicably gone haywire and turned dark and miserable.”

“She’s, what, about fourteen? That’s a tough age.”

“I don’t believe it’s typical teenage blues. I know I haven’t been around much, but I’m her father. I can tell something is eating away at her.”

“Losing her horse to the bushfires?” Hayley still felt the ache in her own heart when she thought of her dead horses—Ranger, Lady, Sham, Smokey and Bella. They’d been part of her family. Even after nearly a year she still missed them.

“Maybe it’s that. I don’t know. She won’t talk to me.”

“Patience,” Hayley said. “Maybe you just need time to reconnect with her, get her to trust you.”

“What do I do in the meantime when the police catch her shoplifting? Next time that might not be enough for her. She might...do anything.”

Hayley’s first instinct was to offer help. Her opinion of Adam had improved slightly. He wasn’t just looking to off-load a problem; he was genuinely concerned about his daughter. She probably could carve out a couple of hours a week for Summer if she really wanted to.

Then the bellbird called again, reminding her of Leif. She owed Adam and his daughter nothing. Let them leave Hope Mountain. What was it to her?

The creek, when they came to it, was swollen with rain and rushing, overflowing the near bank and forming a large boggy area stretching ten yards toward them. On the other side of the creek, the coursing water had carved the bank into an undercut.

“Still need that sugar?” Hayley asked.

“No worries. I’ll take my shoes off and roll up my pants.”

“I wouldn’t take my shoes off if I were you. There are broken branches and stones in among the muck. Might even be snakes.”

That gave him pause, but only for a moment. “I didn’t like these runners much anyway.” He started rolling up his jeans.

“You must really want that barbecue sauce.”

Adam startled and gave a shamefaced grin. “To tell you the truth, I almost forgot what I was after. I just knew I had a goal and had to reach it. I guess that sounds crazy to you.”

“No, not really.” She understood goals, even crazy ones. Her goal was to rebuild her house on the spot her great-grandparents homesteaded and where she’d grown up and had lived as a married woman. She was going to do it despite everyone telling her she was wasting her time and despite what little money she had.

Sell the land, her city-dwelling divorced parents said. Use the proceeds to buy a house closer to the town, or better yet, in a Melbourne suburb close to one of them. She wouldn’t consider it. So, yes, she understood a man who’d walk through muck for something he wanted.

Where she and he differed was that she would never ruin a brand-new pair of shoes. When her house had gone up in flames, so had all her possessions. She clothed herself with donations and the odd new item. With so little to her name, everything she owned was precious.

“Stay here,” Hayley said. “I’ll ride back to the house and bring the sugar to you.”

“How long will that take? I don’t want to put you out.”

“Twenty minutes or so, round trip.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you. It was my bad for not checking the pantry before I started cooking. I’ll take my lumps.”

Before he stepped into the mud, she raised her hand to stop him. “Wait. I’ll double you.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“You can ride behind me. Bo can handle it.” She’d carried an extra passenger plenty of times on the big old carthorse.

“Well, all right. Thanks.” He studied the problem. “That is one very large horse. How do I get up there?”

“Over here.” She manoeuvred Bo to a fallen log. After a couple of tries Adam hoisted himself up and swung a leg over the back of the horse. Hayley moved forward to accommodate him. “Don’t sit too far back or you’ll be on Bo’s kidneys. Have you ridden before?”

“When I was a kid, on my grandfather’s farm.” As he found his balance his hands hovered near her waist for a second before settling on his own legs.

She gave Bo an encouraging pat and nudged his sides with her heels. “Let’s go home, boy.”

Bo lifted his enormous hooves with their shaggy white fetlocks and started through the sinking mud toward the creek.

Hayley hadn’t counted on being so aware of Adam close behind her. The heat from his body warmed her back and with every lurching step of Bo’s, Adam swayed forward, his quadriceps nudging the backs of her thighs. For the first time in many months she was reminded that she was a woman and a sexual being. In close proximity was a man. A very sexy man.

It was too soon after Leif’s death to even be thinking about someone else—especially Adam. He was indirectly responsible for the fact that she didn’t have her husband to warm her bed at night, to work alongside her during the day and to share her dreams and goals. Sure, they’d had their rocky times, but Leif had changed and their marriage had been on the mend.

At the edge of the rushing stream Bo needed a few encouraging digs of her heels to keep moving. Slowly he picked his way across, and then scrambled up the steep bank, his big hooves sliding in the mud.

Hayley leaned forward, one hand gripping the mane. Adam started to slide backward. “Hang on.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and leaned forward, reaching for his own bit of mane. His fingers dug into her just below her ribcage and his hard chest pressed against her back. “Are we having fun yet?” he said, his warm breath close to her ear.

In the midst of feeling uncomfortable about his closeness, she laughed. Bloody Adam Banks. She should have let him get his damn shoes dirty. Or she should have gone farther upstream before attempting to cross. It was her own darn fault for wanting to make this journey as short as possible.

At the top of the bank, Bo made a final surge, crashing through the tree ferns. Adam lost his grip and slid right over the horse’s rump, landing in the mud. When he scrambled to his feet, dark brown streaks covered the front of his polo shirt and his pants. Hayley hooted with laughter, then quickly covered her mouth.

Adam tried to brush off the clods but only smeared them around. “Only the truly depraved laugh at other people’s misfortunes.”

“Sometimes if you don’t laugh, you cry.”

He glanced up sharply, then smiled. “Glad I could provide you with some light entertainment.”

“Want to get back up?” she asked, hoping he’d say no.

“Thanks, but I’ll walk from here.”

“Suit yourself.” And no, she was not disappointed. Well, maybe a little. But that must only be because she truly was depraved.

All levity evaporated as they walked up the slope of the ridge. At the highest point they emerged from the untouched forest and into a stand of trees with charred trunks and bare limbs, stark reminders of the firestorm that had swept through nearly a year ago. Another fifty yards and even these blackened ghosts petered out. Then there were no trees at all. The mountain was a wasteland as far as the eye could see, down into the valley and halfway up the other side of the hill.