The sun was setting over the wide rangelands when the three girls, driving in a utility that had met them at the railway station of Bright Rock, arrived at Josie's property. The driver, sent by Grant Forsythe, was a lanky youth with a ready smile that revealed two very prominent teeth. His name was Joey Purvis and he was English. He had wanted adventure, he told the girls, and so he had come out to Australia where he worked first on a sheep station before coming to work as a roustabout for the Boss of Rockfell Downs.
'What's a roustabout?' Gwen had wanted to know and was told he was a handyman and that every cattle station had at least one.
Previously, he had shown considerable curiosity, asking the girls outright what they were thinking about, coming to work the station adjoining that of his employer.
'The Boss wasn't pleased at the idea,' he had continued, aware that he had three interested listeners, and also aware that if he kept his audience's minds off the road, he could travel along at a much faster speed than if they were taking notice of his mad pace. 'He's a guy that can soon acclimatize though, and he became resigned to your coming. So he offered this transport for you and your baggage. But I warn you, it's by no means a gesture of friendship. He thinks you're all crazy and says only English girls would be so damned—so—er—foolhardy.'
The three girls, all sitting in the back, exchanged glances and grinned ruefully. 'Life,' whispered Josie, 'promises to be exciting.'
'Tell us more about your boss,' invited Gwen. 'What's he like, tall, dark and handsome, and young—or crotchety and past his prime with a bald head and false teeth?'
Joey had laughed loudly and said, 'All the women around fall for him so that gives you a clue.'
'All the women?' from Sally who, since joining the two other girls, had begun to blossom out in several ways and one was that she was fast regaining the self-confidence she had seemed to lose when she had no interests other than the home. She still thought it a miracle that she was here, and never a day had gone by without her mentally thanking Mrs. Wentworth for her solemn promise that she would take good care of the three whom Sally had left behind. Her neighbour's offer had staggered Sally, for she knew the woman disliked her sisters and brother, always having spoken disparagingly of them and saying it would do them the world of good to have to fend for themselves. It was when Sally told her that she was turning down Josie's offer that Mrs. Wentworth had made the promise, setting Sally free to make her own life at last. It had been a most exciting time, preparing for the trip and looking forward to the carefree life, and the wide open spaces of the Never-Never, the Outback where men were tough range riders, inured to the hazards which a primitive land could present. 'I thought there weren't many women, other than the wives of the workmen, I mean?'
'There are no women close-by except those you mention, but there are women on the other stations, and although great distances exist between them, visiting does take place. We make our own entertainment, we have shed dances and film shows and gymkhanas. It's then that everyone meets their far-flung neighbours, and you'll notice the attention the Boss gets all right,' he ended with a laugh.
'He's young, obviously,' observed Josie.
'Thirty last month. He looks older because of the kind of work he does. The sun does something to a man's skin. It burns it and toughens it and makes wrinkles at the corners of the eyes.'
Joey had talked a lot, for the journey was long. But at last he had become tired and during the latter part of the drive the three girls had chatted among themselves, very excitedly, because all were young and eager to discover just what they had taken on.
The house itself was charming, with a Regency facade sporting columns and huge urns filled with flowers. But once in the driveway it was easy to see that a tremendous amount of work would have to be done on the grounds before they would take on that cared-for look of the house they had passed a few minutes previously, the imposing Regency-style homestead of the Boss of Rockfell Downs.
'I like it!' exclaimed Gwen. 'Josie, thanks a million for asking me to come out here! Sally, don't you agree it's great to be here?'
'Yes, indeed,' returned Sally enthusiastically. 'I adore your house—er—homestead, Josie.'
'Thanks. But don't forget we owe it all to dear old Uncle Patrick. He knew about me but I didn't know about him. He was my great-uncle, really, on my father's side. Apparently he came out here as a boy of fifteen, seeking adventure. He bought much more land than this but the Forsythes were bigger and stronger and gradually they edged out the graziers all around them and then took some of Uncle's land—that would be Grant's grandfather. He bought it, of course, but it was greed that made him do it nevertheless. And it seemed that more recently Grant has been wanting to buy Uncle out but failed. It must have riled him when on Uncle's death he discovered that the heiress refused to sell out to him.'
'It was good of him, though, to send the utility for us.'
'Yes, Sally, it was, and we must go over and thank him.' They were all on the gravel in front of the homestead and Joey was taking their baggage from the wagon. A woman opened the front door and the three girls spun round in surprise.
'This is Caroline,' Joey informed them. 'She works for the Boss but he sent her here to get the place cleaned up a bit. I'm to take her back with me.'
'That was good of Mr. Forsythe. Please thank him for me.'
'I will, Miss Josie.' Caroline extended a hand in welcome and said in a gruff voice, 'I've got the place as clean as I can, Miss Josie, but it's in a bad way. Now up at the Boss's place…' Her voice trailed off as she caught a sign from Joey.
'Come on, Caroline. I'm tired and I shall sleep for the rest of the day. Don't wake me for dinner.' He lived at the homestead along with another roustabout and two stockmen who were unmarried. In addition, there were Grant Forsythe's aunt and her daughter, Greta, whom he had befriended when his uncle had died suddenly of a heart attack. Greta, Joey had said, was madly in love with her cousin and it was thought that, one day, the two might marry. 'I'll say good-bye for now.' Joey smiled at each girl in turn before walking away to the other side of the vehicle. Caroline got in beside him and a moment later the three girls were staring after the disappearing utility as it gradually became shapeless, lost in the cloud of ochre-coloured dust sent up by its wheels.
'Well, here we are,' said Gwen unnecessarily. 'Let's go in and take a look at your inheritance, Josie.' She was laughing with her eyes as she gave her friend a playful little shove which sent her towards the open front door. The hall was of medium size with a faded aspect about it. For one thing, the windows were heavily-curtained so light was scarce, and for another the furniture was bulky and dark. There was not even a rug on the wooden floor, a floor that was meant to be highly polished but which at present was dull and, in some places, in want of repair.
The girls moved on, into what Josie said would be the main living room of the house. It was high-ceilinged with three long wide windows looking out onto the weed-ridden grounds.
'I like the furniture,' commented Sally eagerly. 'It needs a good deal of polishing but I'm used to that.'
'We'll do all the jobs among us,' stated Josie. 'No one of us is going to take on all the housework. Back home Gwen and I did at least the minimum necessary for cleanliness. We were never afraid of a bit of dust, were we?' she added with a wry glance at her friend.
'No, never,' she agreed laughing. 'But,' she added more seriously, 'we didn't have a stately home like this, Josie. I rather think we shall have to adapt ourselves to being the gentry.'
'The squatocracy,' corrected her friend in some amusement. 'We're called the squatocracy here, not the aristocracy as we would be if we owned a pad like this in England.'
'You own it,' from Sally with a broad smile. 'We're merely your handmaidens.'
'Very funny! I wonder what our fabulously wealthy neighbour's doing at this moment.'
'Sitting on his backside being waited on by a couple of lackeys,' from Gwen, with a hint of derision.
'He's been good to us,' frowned Josie. 'Don't let's judge him until we've met him, Gwen.'
'I didn't like his arrogance when he wanted you to sell.'
'Nor did I, but I'm still not judging him until I've spoken to him.'
'Shall we see much of him?' asked Sally, without much interest. They had moved into the dining room, an elegant apartment which Sally knew could be very beautiful when the furniture was polished and flowers put in the lovely old copper and brass urns that lay about, thick with dust. Caroline evidently hadn't done much in here. The kitchen was old-fashioned with a big stove in one corner and a wooden sink in another. The floor was of grey flagstone.
'Not in the least Homes and Gardens,' laughed Gwen.
'We might improve it,' said Josie.
'Can you buy units and stainless sinks and things?' Sally liked the atmosphere of the place as it was, thinking of all the people who had worked in it, for the house was old and had been built by a pioneering family who eventually sold it to Josie's uncle's father.
'I believe you can order them in the town and they'll arrive sometime.'
'Is this the breakfast-room?' Sally had been wandering on and when she turned the other two were mounting the stairs, having gone back into the hall. Just as she was about to follow, a man appeared at the front door, which was still wide open, and Sally found herself looking up into the face of the man she knew instinctively was the Boss of the cattle station they had passed.
'Are you Miss Marshall?' he inquired in a lazy Australian drawl which Sally at once found attractive.
'No—I'm one of her friends—Miss Baxter—Sally Baxter.' She coloured because she was stammering and because the man was subjecting her to a very thorough examination; his steely grey eyes seemed to be taking in every single thing about her—from her shining halo of chestnut hair to her wide intelligent forehead, and then he was staring at her face, his eyes meeting hers disconcertingly and staying for a moment as though he were interested in something about them. Her mouth moved convulsively, bringing his gaze to settle on it before lifting to take in the classical bone-structure of her cheeks and jaw where the alabaster-like skin was tightly drawn, peach-tinted and flawless. She felt mesmerised by the sheer personality of the man—his magnetism which stemmed from something deep within, and which she could not have explained if she had tried. He was about six feet two inches tall with a lean and powerful frame that was plainly all muscle. His lean, angular features were arrogant and strong, his skin burned to the colour of an Arab's. Sally noticed the rather harsh line of the mouth and decided he would be a dangerous man to cross. The metallic quality of the eyes added to this impression, as did the taut line of the jaw.
'Where is Miss Marshall?' he asked, after introducing himself and crushing Sally's hand so that she actually winced with the sudden stab of pain he inflicted.
'She's just gone upstairs to take a look around. Her other friend's with her.'
'Miss Colby.' He nodded and drew an impatient breath. 'Have you considered what you're taking on?' he asked, rather in the manner of a schoolmaster preparing to admonish an errant pupil.
Sally coloured up again but there was a glint in her eye as she answered, 'Yes, we have, Mr. Forsythe, and none of us is afraid of the venture.'
The grey eyes narrowed slowly, the action etching deeper lines in the little fans that spread out from the corners of his eyes.
'You'll learn eventually,' he prophesied. This is not the place for women to work. It's a man's country, Miss Baxter, and you were all stupidly impulsive even to contemplate coming over to take on this holding.'
'We'll survive,' returned Sally, wishing her friends would appear.
'Not for long,' was his terse rejoinder. 'Go and fetch Miss Marshall for me.'
It was an order and Sally found herself gritting her teeth. Who did he think he was, telling her what to do? However, she went to do his bidding, going up the wide, balustraded staircase with more haste than delicacy, because she took the stairs two at a time.
'We wondered where you were,' began Josie when Sally broke in to tell her that her neighbour was downstairs.
'And he's horrid,' she added with a hint of anger in her softly modulated voice. 'He spoke as if we were all crazy to come out here and think we could run the station.'
'Let's have a look,' said Josie imperturbably. 'I've dealt with all sorts of awkward customers in my profession.' She went from the bedroom which Gwen had said she would like if no one else wanted it, and stood for a space at the top of the stairs, looking down into the upturned face of the man who wanted to buy her house and land. Sally, close beside her, grimaced to herself, thinking that the arrogant grazier with an estate as big as Belgium would not like to be looked down upon like that. And her supposition was true. Sally saw his mouth compress, his jaw tighten. A smile touched her lips; it was not intended to be an amused sneer but she admitted afterwards that it probably appeared so to the man looking up.
'What's so funny?' he inquired in a dangerously soft tone of voice. 'You appear to be highly amused, Miss Baxter.'
Sally went red; Josie turned, puzzled by her neighbour's remark.
'It was nothing,' returned Sally, wishing she were somewhere else. Gwen was behind her on the landing and Sally moved to one side to allow her to follow Josie down the stairs. The three were introduced to one another and then Josie immediately thanked him for sending the utility to bring them from the station.
'And thank you, too, for sending Caroline. I guess the house was in a pretty bad state?'
'It wasn't very clean, but the woman your uncle had hired left him some months ago. She'd been with him for about thirty years and he'd left her everything. But when she left, he was hurt and changed his will.'
'Thirty years? He ought not to have cut her out completely,' frowned Josie. 'Where is she?'
'In Sydney.' His eyes moved as Sally came down the stairs; she felt them burning into her and strange sensations vibrated along her spine. What in heaven's name was wrong with her, being affected by a man like this? She concluded it must be because she had had nothing to do with men, except her brother, since taking on the responsibility of caring for her family. She was blushing and he lifted his brows in a gesture that portrayed amused arrogance. But soon he returned his attention to Josie and Sally heard him speaking sternly to her, criticising her for coming out, declaring he had never heard of anything so foolhardy or impetuous. And he ended by saying, 'If you decide you've had enough and want to sell, let me know.'
'I will certainly do that, Mr. Forsythe,' she returned with a crisp note to her voice. Then she added, 'I rather think, though, that my friends and I are here to stay, so I advise you to get used to seeing us around.'
His mouth tightened but he made no reference to her words as he said, 'I've been asked to give you a message. It's from another neighbour of yours, Len Brennen, who owns Sandy Downs, a cattle station whose homestead lies about fifty miles from here. He's inviting you all to the shed dance he and his wife are giving a week next Friday. If you're ready when I come by, you can follow me. I'll be here around half-past six.' He turned to nod in Sally's direction, then said a general good-bye and left. His horse, a beautiful chestnut gelding, was tethered to a tree and the three girls watched, spellbound, as he leapt onto its back and galloped away, the two as one in every beautiful motion of their sinewed bodies. Gwen's face was a study when Sally turned to speak to her.
'Isn't that spectacular!'
'It's… fantastic….' She seemed to be in a dream.
Josie said with a sudden frown, 'What's up, Gwen? Hope you're not going to have a crush on the bloke.'
Gwen went slightly red and turned away, hiding her expression. Sally's eyes were again on the horse and rider, and again she knew that unfathomable, vibrating sensation in the region of her spine.
***
It was just over a week later that she received a letter from her brother. It was full of recriminations, reproaches and, finally, a plea to return to her family.
'Anything wrong?' The question came from Gwen who had been outside helping Josie dig up some weeds, while Sally had been in the kitchen preparing vegetables for the evening meal. 'Not bad news, I hope,' added Gwen anxiously.
'I can't understand what has happened, Gwen. As you know, my neighbour promised to look after the two girls and Ted, she said she would cook them an evening meal and see to the washing and ironing if they did all the rest. She's a widow with nothing much to occupy her time and seemed glad of something to do. I don't understand what's happened,' she said again, glancing up as Josie appeared, joining them on the verandah where they were standing, Sally with the thin sheet of airmail paper in her hand. She explained to Josie, saw an exchange of glances and looked inquiringly from one to the other.
After only a slight hesitation Josie said, 'We've been expecting you to have the news and when you got that letter just now I did wonder if that would be it. Mrs. Wentworth never had any intention of making herself a slave for that bunch,' she said, very much in the professional tone of the nurse. 'I went to see her on the day following the accident, the day you went back home. I explained the offer we had made you and said I didn't think you'd accept it. She agreed with me that it was necessary for you to accept it in order to get away from your family, if only for a year, so that you could have a chance of doing something with your life. If at the end of the year you wanted to go back, then it was your own affair. We wouldn't do anything to stop you.'
'So you went to see my neighbour?' Sally was recalling her sister's comment that Mrs. Wentworth had had a visitor.
Josie nodded her head. 'I felt I ought to do that, Sally, for your own good. As I've said, Mrs. Wentworth never did have any intention of doing the chores which those sisters of yours were perfectly capable of doing for themselves. We've been here a week and a half and they've survived—well, I expect they have,' she added in some amusement. 'When was that letter sent?'
'Over a week ago.'
'Yes, it must have been, and you were lucky that Joey had to go into town for his boss. He naturally brought your letter back with those for the people on Mr. Forsythe's estate.' She was totally unperturbed by what she had done, and because Sally fully appreciated that it had been done for her sake, for her happiness, she could not be vexed with her friend. In fact, she was grateful for her interference in seeing Mrs. Wentworth, because if it had been left to Sally she most certainly would have let herself be persuaded to stay with her family.
And, after only ten days, she was glad she had made the break. This was living, with plenty of work but no drudgery. It was invariably work shared, and each girl had taken a turn in the kitchen preparing the meals. The outdoor work was a delight to Sally; she went to bed tired but her lungs were filled with fresh clean air. She had exercise, for she and her friends would take a walk after a hard day's toil in the garden where, at one end, they had already started a vegetable plot. The foreman was totally reliable, having been engaged for Josie's uncle by none other than Grant Forsythe. The rest of the stockmen, numbering only four, were equally reliable and conscientious. So the ranch was running smoothly although already Josie had realised that it was not going to make much money at all. Neither Sally nor Sue minded that in the least; they were so content that money had become important only in that it bought food and the other necessities they needed, such things as toiletries and, eventually, some new clothes.
'You don't mind what we did?' Gwen put the question, including herself in what Sally realised now was, in fact, a conspiracy.
'No, I don't mind,' she answered with a grateful smile. 'I needed someone to take me in hand for I was not only losing my willpower but my personality as well.'
'You were bound to,' said Josie rather brusquely. 'Five years confined to a house, with no time for recreation, or to do anything for your own profit and benefit. It was nothing more nor less than sacrificial, Sally, and you're quite right: you did need someone to take you in hand.' She paused, but Sally merely smiled at her, saying nothing. She was thinking what a stroke of luck it was that she had been knocked down by Josie's car. 'What are you going to tell them when you write back?' she added curiously.
'That I have never been so happy for years!'
They all laughed, then Sally went back to the kitchen and her two friends to their weeding of the garden.
