The Cattleman, The Baby and Me. Michelle Douglas

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that his amusement, if that was what it was, manifested itself into anything as outwardly betraying as a smile. It was becoming all too apparent that Liam Stapleton was a self-contained man. She wondered what it would take to smash through those barriers and unleash the man within.

      She shivered at the thought. It wasn’t something she was ever likely to find out.

      Not that she wanted to. She was here for Harry. That was all. She’d find out who Harry’s father was, and then she would leave again. Simple.

      Funny, but it didn’t feel simple as she lowered Harry to his capsule.

      Harry started to cry. He held onto Horsie tight and snuffled his face against the toy’s softness. It shocked her how that action pierced straight to her womb. Tears burned the backs of her eyes. She blinked them away. ‘Shh, Harry, it’s all right.’

      Only they both knew it wasn’t. His mother was facing a three-year jail sentence, and his father was…Who was his father? Exhaustion swamped her, the sun beat down, and she could feel herself start to sway.

      Liam moved forward, touched her arm. ‘Let’s get you both up to the homestead. You can freshen up and then we can talk.’

      She nodded, then gestured to the capsule and Harry. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to sit in the back with him.’

      ‘Do whatever you need to do. We’re only a couple of kilometres from the homestead, so it’s not going to take long.’

      The big cattle and sheep stations in the Outback placed their airstrips several kilometres from their homesteads as a fire precaution. She slid onto the back seat beside Harry with a grateful sigh. She was glad they didn’t have too far to go. She wasn’t sure she was up for much more travelling today.

      Liam paused in the act of closing her door, another frown in his eyes. ‘When did you last eat?’

      Food! Sapphie’s eyes lit up and her mouth started to water. ‘Ooh, ages and ages ago. Harry and I, we’d kill for a Vegemite sandwich—wouldn’t we, Harry?’

      Harry didn’t smile, but he bobbed his head up and down in imitation of Sapphie.

      A minor victory!

      Unbelievably, Liam laughed.

      A major victory! Sapphie tried not to gape. It made him look younger—a lot younger—and milder, in the same way the cliffs and valleys in the Kimberley ranges lost all their hard edges at twilight.

      ‘I’m sure we can rustle you up a couple of Vegemite sandwiches,’ he said before closing her door.

      Sapphie did her best to catch her breath. She tried to convince herself it was the heat and dust that made it hard to breathe.

      As she’d seen from the plane, the Newarra homestead was big…grand. The coolness of the white weatherboard was welcoming. The broad grandeur of the six wide stone steps that led up to the double front door hinted at a stability she had never experienced, of a home lovingly crafted to provide more than just shelter for its occupants. The shadiness of the deep verandas with their simple wooden balustrades beckoned.

      A sigh whispered out of her. Everything about the homestead, even down to the rose garden, was designed to refresh and please the eye. The height of summer was long gone, but Sapphie could imagine the cool promise of the homestead shimmering in the heat of a midday sun, when temperatures soared in excess of forty degrees and dark clouds gathered oppressive on the horizon.

      A square of lush green lawn surrounded it all. Bore water, Sapphie guessed, because no farmer out here would waste precious water resources on a lawn and garden.

      Unless he had a wife and it meant a great deal to her. And he loved her very much.

      Sapphie glanced at Liam. He brought the ute to a halt at the edge of the lawn. He didn’t drive around to the collection of buildings behind the homestead. She glanced back at his home. Did he have a wife?

      He’d only mentioned a housekeeper. When she turned back, she found him watching her in the rearview mirror. ‘Your home is beautiful.’

      ‘It’s been in the family for generations.’

      ‘Do you have any family living with you at the moment?’

      ‘Getting nervous?’

      It sounded like a taunt. She lifted her chin. ‘Just wondering what to expect, that’s all.’

      He pushed out of the car, turned back and leant down to say, ‘It’s a bit late for those kinds of considerations, don’t you think?’ and then closed the door.

      Sapphie unbuckled Harry’s capsule and climbed out too, met Liam’s eyes across the roof of the car. ‘It’s never too late to take other people’s feelings into consideration.’

      He stilled, but with the sun in her face, and the brim of his hat shading his, she couldn’t see his expression let alone try and decipher it.

      Before he could make any answer, an older woman—in her fifties, Sapphie guessed—came bustling out from the house. ‘Did my wools arrive?’ She pulled up short when she saw Sapphie.

      ‘Beattie, this is Sapphie Thomas and Harry.’ He glanced at Sapphie, but not at Harry. ‘They’ve come to stay…for a bit.’

      Sapphie gulped. For a bit. She hadn’t thought how long this might take. As usual she’d leapt into action without thinking it through properly. But whenever she stopped to think things through—big things—she froze. Like she was doing now with Anna and Lea. She couldn’t afford to freeze where Harry was concerned.

      She glanced down at him and he lifted his arms to her. Perhaps surrounded by strangers he now saw her as his only ally. ‘Oh, Harry,’ she whispered. How could she tell him he was putting his faith in the wrong person? She wanted to weep for him.

      She lifted him out, cuddled him close.

      Liam gestured. ‘This is Mrs Beatson—the housekeeper here at Newarra.’

      She pasted on a bright smile when the older woman started across the lawn. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Beatson.’

      ‘Call me Beattie, my dear, everyone does. Mrs Beatson was my mother, God rest her. It’s lovely to have visitors.’ Her eyes lit up when they landed on Harry. ‘Ooh, and you’ve brought a littlie—what fun!’

      But as she reached out a hand to Harry he threw his face into Sapphie’s neck with a cry. Sapphie wanted to apologise, but she didn’t get a chance. With a sympathetic tsk-tsk, Mrs Beatson murmured, ‘Poor little tyke. He’s all worn out.’ And she promptly set about abusing Liam for keeping Harry and Sapphie standing in the sun for so long.

      Sapphie only had time to grab the bag containing Harry’s essentials before Mrs Beatson had taken her arm and was propelling her up the path towards the house. ‘Oh, but shouldn’t we help unload the car?’

      ‘Nonsense, dear, it’s what men have muscles for.’

      That made Sapphie grin. All the same, she turned back to glance at Liam.

      ‘Beattie

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