Barbara Hannay - Claiming the Cattleman's Heart

‘I only got this lot back last week.’ Slowing the ute, he steered with one hand and leaned an elbow out of the window. He frowned as he fixed his attention on one particular cow with a noticeably swollen abdomen and udder. She was standing apart from the herd and looked rather uncomfortable, with her back arched and her tail raised. He brought the ute to a standstill, and Lily looked at the animal with sudden fascination.

‘I need to quickly check that heifer.’

‘Is she pregnant?’

‘She’s in labour. I’ve been keeping an eye on her this morning.’ His thoughtful frown deepened. ‘Usually there’s no need to intervene, but she’s young and this is her first calf.’

Without another word, he shoved the door open and strode to the fence, pushed the top strand of the barbed wire down with one hand, and swung his long legs easily over it.

Watching him, Lily let a sigh of relief drift from her lips. Surely a man who cared about a cow in labour couldn’t be dangerous? She decided she might be safe with him after all, and her mouth twitched into a smile. How nice it would be if Daniel was as trustworthy as he was hot-looking.

He returned quite quickly.

‘I think she’s OK,’ he said as he restarted the motor. ‘But it’s a bit hard to tell—the early stages are dragging on a bit.’

The truck rattled along the last part of the track leading up to the house. As Daniel turned off the motor, he said, ‘I’m afraid it’ll have to be bread and cheese for lunch.’

‘Oh, I don’t expect you to feed me.’

He frowned. ‘Why not? Have you already eaten?’

‘No.’

He gave an impatient shake of his head. ‘Then come on. I’m going to eat, and you may as well have something. It won’t be anything flash, of course.’

‘Thank you.’ Lily offered Daniel her warmest smile. But perhaps it was a mistake, because he seemed to freeze, and he stared back at her with such a fierce look that she felt her smile fade.

Three or four seconds passed, and then he said less gruffly, ‘I can’t treat you like a trespasser.’

Without warning, he smiled.

And, oh, what a difference it made.

Lily wanted to stare and stare.

THEY crossed the stretch of grass to the house and Lily saw that Daniel was right. The homestead certainly showed signs of neglect.

The long front veranda was unswept and littered with leaves. Dirty pieces of straw and old, yellowed newspapers were piled in corners. The white weatherboard walls were coated with grimy cobwebs and the windows were smeared with dust. Dried mud nests made by hornets clustered around the dark green windowsills, and long strings of grey cobwebs hung from the deep eaves.

Daniel sent Lily a grimly cautious glance. ‘I did warn you. This is no showplace up close.’

She waved away his apology. ‘I’ve seen it all before.’

He almost smiled again as he pushed the screen door open. ‘At least the kitchen’s habitable.’

And indeed it was.

It was large and clean, old-fashioned and homely, with a scrubbed pine table dominating the centre of the room and a big, open-shelved pine dresser on the opposite wall, filled with happy-looking blue and yellow china.

Actually, it was almost too neat. Where, Lily wondered, was the usual kitchen clutter? The feeding bowls for pets? The ubiquitous calendar on the wall with significant dates circled or scrawled over? And where were the old notes or receipts stuck to the fridge by funky magnets?

Of course, if Daniel had been away for some time, he wouldn’t have had the chance to acquire pets or to gather much clutter.

‘Do you live alone?’

‘Yes.’

Was it her imagination, or had she seen a flash of pain in his face?

He turned quickly to the sink, squirted some lemon detergent and washed his hands. Over his shoulder, he nodded to a door. ‘Bathroom’s through there if you’d like a wash.’

‘Thanks.’

The bathroom was plain but clean—with fluffy lime-green towels and a cheery sunflower stuck in a green wine bottle and set on the windowsill. From her experience of bachelors, the flower was an unexpected touch. Lily stared at it, wondering…

As she stepped back into the hallway she noticed that the doors to all other rooms, except one—Daniel’s bedroom, she guessed—were firmly shut. Thick trails of grey dust drifted from beneath the closed doors.

Obviously he’d fixed up just enough space for his immediate needs.

She couldn’t help feeling curious about him, about where he had been and whether he had a family—a girlfriend—even a wife somewhere. Why had this house and his large property been allowed to get so run down while he was away? Ironbark Station would be worth a stack of money if it was a fully functioning cattle station.

And, now that Daniel was back here, why didn’t he have help to fix it up?

No doubt about it, he was a man of mystery. Under other circumstances she might have felt compelled to try to solve his mystery, but right now her focus was her mother’s health, and she wouldn’t allow herself to be deflected from that. Besides, if and when Daniel Renton wanted anyone’s help, all he had to do was ask for it. And, when he did, Lily Halliday would be the last person he’d turn to.

Unfortunately.

Over lunch, conversation was limited to ‘Pass the bread, please’ and ‘Do you have milk with your tea?’—and Lily grew uncomfortable again.

She had always prided herself on being open and friendly and easy to talk to, and she found Daniel’s reluctance to open up disturbing. It seemed odd to her that he would go to the trouble of offering to help her, even share a meal with her, and yet remain so reserved and secretive.

Her harmless question about whether he lived alone seemed to have silenced him.

It was odd. It didn’t feel right. People in the Outback were famous for going out of their way to be friendly, weren’t they?

She started thinking again about all the closed doors only a few steps down the hallway. What was hidden behind them?

‘How anxious are you to get to Gidgee Springs?’

Lily jumped and looked up at him, to see his attractive blue eyes on her.

‘Sorry. I was daydreaming. What did you say?’

‘I was wondering if you’re in a hurry to get to Gidgee Springs.’

‘Why—um—why do you ask?’

‘I’m concerned about the young heifer,’ he said. ‘I’d like to hang around a bit longer. Just to make sure she’s OK.’

Lily lifted her hands, palms open. ‘Don’t let me stand in the way of a safe delivery. I’m keen to get to Gidgee Springs, but as long as I can collect my car in daylight it should be fine.’

‘I promise to get you to town well before dark.’ He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, and almost smiled at her. ‘Thanks for understanding.’

‘That’s OK. Thanks for your help.’

Jerking his head in the direction of the paddock, he said, ‘I’ll head off, then. You’re welcome to stay here at the house.’

‘No, thanks,’ Lily said quickly. Somehow she didn’t fancy being left alone with all those closed doors. ‘I’ll come with you. I’ve never seen a calf being born.’

‘You might not enjoy it.’

‘I’m not squeamish.’

He stared at her for a moment or two, and Lily could feel his blue eyes piercing her, taking her measure, trying to decide if she would be in the way. At last he said, ‘Come on, then.’

As she followed him, she remembered the succession of pregnant women who’d visited her mother in their tiny cottage in Sugar Bay.

Lily had been a child at the time, but, as far back as she could remember, the women had come, all looking alike in floating tie-dyed cheesecloth maternity dresses. And they’d always sent for Fern’s help when it was time for their babies to be born. Usually Lily had been taken to stay at a friend’s house, but occasionally she’d been allowed to play in another room in the house where the births took place.