Barbara Hannay - Claiming the Cattleman's Heart

But then he seemed to come to his senses, and his hand slammed back onto the steering wheel.

Lily let out her breath, and the muscles in Daniel’s throat moved as if he was having difficulty swallowing.

Frowning fiercely, he jerked his gaze to the front. He seemed suddenly unhappy, and Lily felt unhappy too. None of this would have happened if she’d stopped for petrol in that last little town she’d so gaily flashed through a couple of hours ago. At the time she’d been singing ‘Hit the Road, Jack’ at the top of her voice. Now she cringed to think she’d been so naive, so foolishly confident that there would be more little towns, more places to fill up with petrol long before she reached Gidgee Springs.

Her thoughts flew to Fern, her mother. I’m sorry, Mum. I’ve stuffed up.

She grimaced when she remembered the pain in Fern’s eyes as she’d waved her off this morning, smiling bravely. She would do anything to keep her mother out of a wheelchair, which was why she was on this journey. Her plan was to meet Audrey Halliday, her father’s widow—the woman Marcus Halliday had married after he’d abandoned Fern—and to shamelessly beg Audrey for money for the operation Fern needed.

But now Lily’s mission of mercy was in jeopardy. Totally. Unless this strange and taciturn man was prepared to help her.

While she was lost in her anxious thoughts, Daniel started the ute suddenly, and it lurched down the rough bush track at such a reckless speed that Lily had no time to fasten her seatbelt.

Toppling sideways, she fell against his hard shoulder. She tried to support herself, and her hand landed on his thigh, her splayed fingers gripping the denim of his jeans.

Beneath the thin and faded fabric, still damp from his recent swim, iron-hard muscles bunched at her touch.

‘Sorry,’ she squeaked, snatching her hand away.

He growled something incomprehensible and Lily didn’t respond. Her heart was pounding unmercifully and, with more dignity than was necessary, she eased herself back into her seat and pulled the seatbelt across her and into place. Daniel drove more slowly, keeping his eyes on the narrow track. And Lily decided she had no choice but to trust him.

Their journey was rough going. Long grass grew between the wheel ruts, scraping the underbelly of the ute, and she recognised overgrown weeds—lantana bushes and Chinee apple—running wild along the edges, almost taking over the track in places.

As Daniel swerved to dodge another huge clump of lantana, she said, ‘This property is wonderfully wild.’

‘It hasn’t always been like this.’ He muttered this defensively. ‘I—I’ve been away.’

‘Travelling?’

He shrugged and continued to stare straight ahead through the windscreen. ‘Not really. Just—just working somewhere else.’

‘So have I,’ she said brightly. ‘I’ve been working in Sri Lanka.’

He sent a quick sideways glance her way.

‘It was an amazing experience,’ she said. ‘I loved it. I spent twelve months doing voluntary work in a village on the coast.’

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to comment, or to tell her what he’d been doing, but he kept staring morosely ahead.

‘When I came back,’ she went on, needing to fill the uncomfortable silence, ‘I couldn’t settle into my old life in Sydney. The party-party-party scene just didn’t cut it for me any more, so I went back to Sugar Bay to stay with my mother.’

‘Sugar Bay? That’s where all the hippies squatted years ago, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ she said, but she sensed an underlying cynicism in Daniel’s question, so she didn’t elaborate. She certainly didn’t want to tell him what had happened when she’d gone home—her devastating discovery that her mother was almost completely crippled and in dire need of surgery.

Fern had kept silent for too long. She hadn’t wanted to tell Lily how badly her condition had deteriorated, had worried that Lily would come hurrying back from Sri Lanka too soon. Dear, silly woman.

The worst of it was that Fern had no health insurance and no money for the necessary operation, and the public hospital waiting list was up to two years long. Lily, unfortunately, had no money either, because she’d poured almost all her savings into the Sri Lankan village.

Fern had no choice but to wait in the long queue for the public health system, but by then she would be bedridden. She needed the operation now, which was why Lily felt compelled to face up to the woman who’d inherited every cent of her father’s considerable wealth.

Lily sighed again. She could never think of Marcus Halliday without feeling the sharp, painful stab of his personal rejection. She’d carried the scar since she was five years old. Too long.

Daniel drove on in silence, and Lily realised the track was curving back towards the mountain range, which meant he was taking her further and further away from the road and into the wilderness. She felt uneasy again. Where was he taking her? Where was his house?

She had no idea if he lived with a family or alone. Good grief. Her imagination kicked in, throwing up dreadful possibilities. How on earth could she escape if Daniel was dangerous? If only there had been someone at home when she’d tried to telephone Audrey. Where was Audrey? She should have been expecting her call.

On the edge of full fledged panic, Lily squeaked, ‘How far are we going?’

‘Almost there,’ Daniel muttered, and the track forked suddenly. He took a turn to the right, the track broke out of the scrub and two long, sun-drenched paddocks stretched before them. At the far end of the paddocks, against a majestic backdrop of heavily forested green mountains, a white homestead with a faded red ripple-iron roof and deep verandas sprawled in the sunshine like a sleepy dog.

Lily was buoyed on a wave of instant relief.

Tall, ancient palm trees surrounded the homestead, making it look cool, despite the shimmering noonday heat. To the right of the house, tumbledown machinery sheds were shaded by an enormous spreading cassia tree covered in massive, romantic pink blossoms.

‘Is that your house?’

He grunted yes.

‘It’s lovely.’

She meant it. Daniel’s house might not be grand or manicured, but there was something very appealing about it. She loved the way its long red roof reached protectively over the deep, shady verandas, and the way the green mountains stood on guard behind it. The circle of palms and the lovely pink cassia tree added a touch of romance. Undeniable charm. It was a setting an artist might feel an urge to paint.

Again she thought of her father. Marcus Halliday had made his fame and fortune bringing scenes like this to life on canvas.

Her lips pulled into a wry smile. Was it because of Marcus or in spite of him that the sight of Daniel’s home tugged at her heartstrings? Whatever the reason, she felt charmed by the house and surprised, after her many misgivings, that she felt instantly at home.

‘You must have been very happy to come back from your travels to such a lovely place,’ she said.

Dark colour stained Daniel’s cheekbones, and he cleared his throat. ‘The house might look good from a distance, but it’s run-down like the rest of the property.’

‘So you’ve been away for quite some time?’

He didn’t reply. Obviously he had no intention of telling her anything about himself, but she wished he would. She’d feel so much more at ease if he was more outgoing. But, then again, why should he bother? It wasn’t as if they were starting a friendship. Soon he would be dropping her into Gidgee Springs and they would never see each other again.

‘The herd’s been away on agistment.’

She realised that Daniel’s focus was somewhere else entirely. He was studying the cattle in the paddock to his right.