make whatever bargain he needed to. His hand curled around the contract. Once he had her signature, Kurrajong Station’s obligations would be met. And he’d be free to head off for the far horizons of Africa.
Lance, Fiona and his mother could sink or swim on their own.
The car finally reached the farmhouse and pulled to a halt. He rested his elbows on his knees, eyes narrowed. Would she be some hard-nosed business type or a free-spirited hippy?
Three car doors were flung open and three passengers shot out from the car’s interior like bottled fizzy water that had been shaken and then opened—a woman and two children. All of them raced around to the front of the car and bounced from one foot to the other as if they’d been cooped up for too long.
He studied the woman. She didn’t look like a hard-nosed businesswoman. She didn’t look like a nature-loving hippy either. She looked…
In her red-and-black tartan skirt, thick black tights and black Doc Martens she reminded him of a ladybird. Her movements, though, were pure willy wagtail—light, graceful…cheeky. In fact, she looked like a university student. He sat up straighter. She couldn’t be old enough to have two kids!
He turned his attention to the children—a boy of around seven and a girl a year or two younger. He had a vague recollection of his mother mentioning their ages as being a real coup for the school. It was the main reason the committee had chosen this family from the flood of applicants.
A frown built inside him. They might be a coup for the school, but right now they were a disaster for him.
Finally he allowed himself a grim smile as the woman shook out her arms and legs as if she’d spent too many hours in the car—granted it was a bit of a hike from Sydney to Bellaroo Creek—and then moved to rest her hands on the front fence, a child standing either side of her. Her dark hair shone in the autumn sun. It made him realise how brightly the sun shone in the soft autumn stillness of the afternoon.
The boy glanced up at her, indecision flitting across his face. ‘What do you think?’ He glanced back at the cottage. ‘Did you know it would look like this?’
Cam pursed his lips at the edge of disappointment lacing the boy’s words. The little girl moved closer to the woman as if seeking reassurance. Cam straightened. If they hated the place they’d happily sign the whole kit and caboodle back over to him! That’d solve everything.
‘I had no idea what it’d look like.’
Her voice sounded like music.
She beamed down at the children and then clasped her hands beneath her chin. ‘Oh, but I think it’s perfect!’ She knelt on the ground, heedless of the danger to her tights, to put an arm about each of them.
The little girl pressed in against her. ‘Really?’
‘You do?’ The little boy leaned against her too.
‘Oh, yes!’
Cam wondered where she came by such confidence and enthusiasm. She was from the city. What did she know about country living?
Unless she’d known about those forty hectares before times and knew of their value. Unless Lance had already got to her, somehow. Unless—
‘Look at the size of the yard. Just think how perfect it’ll be once we’ve mown the lawn and trimmed back that hedge of…’ She gestured with her head because it was obvious she didn’t want to let go of either child.
‘You don’t know what it is,’ the boy accused.
‘I have no idea,’ she agreed with one of the widest grins Cam had ever seen.
Plumbago. He could’ve told her, but something hard and heavy had settled in his stomach. He could’ve at least mown the lawn for them, couldn’t he? He might’ve been flat out with organising the cattle station, the wheat crop and mustering sheep, but he should’ve found the time to manage at least that much. He mightn’t want these new tenants—his mother had manipulated him superbly on that front—but that wasn’t this woman’s fault, or her children’s.
‘But won’t it be fun finding out?’
‘I guess.’
‘And just imagine how pretty the cottage will look once we’ve painted it.’
She was going to paint his cottage?
‘Pink!’
‘Blue!’
‘Cream!’ She grinned back at the kids. ‘We’ll draw straws.’
He hoped she rigged that one.
The little girl started to jump up and down. ‘We can have chickens!’
‘And a dog!’ The little boy started to jump too.
‘And a lemon tree and pretty curtains at the window.’ The woman laughed, bouncing back upright. ‘And…?’
‘And we’ll all live happily ever after,’ they hollered together in a chorus, and Cam found he couldn’t drag his eyes from them.
It was just a house on an average acre block. But it hit him then what this property represented. A new start. And he knew exactly what that meant.
With everything in his soul.
The woman clapped her hands, claiming his attention once more. ‘I think we should sing our song to our new perfect home.’
And they started to sing. The children held a wobbly melody and the woman harmonised, and they so loved their song and grinned so madly at each other that Cam found his lips lifting upwards.
‘The house loves us now,’ the little girl whispered.
‘I believe you’re right.’
‘I love a veranda,’ the little boy said and Cam knew it was his way of saying he approved of the house…of their new start.
The woman smiled that smile again and Cam had to shift on his bench. ‘Right,’ she said, dusting off her hands, ‘what we need now is the key.’
That was his cue.
He hadn’t meant to sit here for so long watching them without declaring himself. He’d only thought—hoped—that a moment’s observation would give him the measure of his new tenants. Except…He found himself more confounded than ever.
‘That’d be where I come in.’
Both children literally jumped out of their skins at his abrupt declaration and he found himself wishing he’d cleared his throat first to give them warning of his presence.
The little girl ducked behind the woman, her hands clutching fistfuls of the woman’s shirt. The boy wavered for a moment or two and then moved in front of the woman, face pale and hands clenched, but obviously determined to protect her. It was a simple act of courage that knocked Cam sideways. His heart started to pound.
The woman reached out and tousled the boy’s hair and
