was as though one only had to strike a match for the whole world to go up in flames. Even the birds had stopped singing, lapsing into the silence that precedes a storm. Presently a wind sprang up, gaining velocity. Spiralling whirlwinds danced across the darkening landscape sending out their own clouds of dust, leaves and split, sun-scorched grasses.
There was a lot of water stored in those ominous clouds. The rain couldn’t have been more welcome but she dreaded the thought of hail. Many times in her life she’d seen it come down on Naroom with hellish fury, hailstones as big as cricket balls, bombarding the herd and sometimes killing the small game scurrying through the pastures.
Allegra roused herself from her thoughts. Rory hadn’t been at all happy with the distance north of the homestead Gallagher and his off-sider Mick Evans had moved the cattle so he rode off with steely purpose to let them know. Allegra sat silently on her horse watching. There was always work to be done on a station; always another job.
Rory would get the men moving, she thought with satisfaction. It seemed only a man, a tough cattleman with a superior knowledge and experience of cattle could fill the shoes of Boss Man. Women need not apply. The outer areas of the run would be safe but he wanted all the cattle concentrated in the home pastures mustered and moved off the creek flats. One of the major problems with the station hands since her father’s death, then the loss of their competent overseer—Valerie’s disastrous decision—was that the men were sinking deeper and deeper into lethargy, understandably uncertain of their future when times weren’t easy. Even the cook had taken off, but cooks were always guaranteed of a job.
Well, I gave them their orders, Allegra consoled herself. The right orders. ‘Remember now. High out of the creek’s reach!’ It was clear they had only half done the job. She had fully intended to check on them. She knew she had to, but Rory’s arrival had set her back. She watched him ride back to her, the stirring sight bringing the sting of tears to her eyes. Cezar was more than a touch temperamental but Rory wasn’t having the slightest trouble making a near instant communication with her father’s horse, essentially a one man horse although Cezar had gradually accepted her.
‘You’re not happy are you?’ she asked, studying his expression as he reined in alongside.
‘No, but there’s no use worrying about it. We have to get cracking. We need to shift all the cows and calves on the other side across the creek.’ There was a dark frown on his face. ‘I’ve told those two layabouts if they’re interested in holding on to a job they’d better shake themselves up. Big time. We’ll never get the stock across if the creek starts flowing any faster. As it is we’ll have to push them with stock whips. They’re certain to be nervous, especially with this wind blowing up.’ He glanced heavenward at the threatening sky. ‘I’ve sent Gallagher to get the Jeep and bring it down here. Some of those calves are pretty small. They’ll hold the rest up. We can pick ‘em up and shove them in the back of the Jeep.’
‘Right, boss!’ She spoke in a voice of exaggerated respect.
‘It needs to be done.’ He gave her a querying look.
‘Of course it does. Just having a little joke. I did tell them, you know.’
‘Obviously they weren’t paying the right amount of attention,’ he said crisply. ‘They will now. If you ride back to the stables you can tell young Wally we need a hand. On the double. Doesn’t anyone use their own initiative? What about you?’ He cast a dubious eye over her slender, ultrafeminine frame. ‘I’ll understand if you don’t want to join in. It’ll be hard work and we’re pushed for time thanks to those two. We need them otherwise you should sack them on the spot.’
‘They need sacking,’ she agreed. ‘And don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’ll help. That’s what I’m here for.’ She wheeled her horse’s head about. ‘They’re all docile beasts on Naroom. We don’t have your mighty herds to contend with. No rogues, no wild ones, no clean skins, either.’
‘Off you go then,’ he urged. ‘We’ve got a lot to do before the weather worsens.’
A big storm broke around dusk but by then they had every last lowing beast up on high ground. Allegra’s ears were ringing from the crack of the whips. They kept them sailing well above the backs of the herd while the loud sound drove them on. Darkness was closing in fast, the sun almost swallowed up. The familiar landscape was shrouded in a sodden mist that drenched them in seconds.
‘Dig your heels in!’ he called to her.
She didn’t need to be told twice. The temperature had dropped considerably and she was shivering. When they arrived back at the homestead, the two of them ran quickly from the stables towards the rear entrance of the house. Once she went for a sickening skid, floundered wildly for a moment before he caught hold of her, amazingly surefooted in the quagmire.
At last they reached the back door, pushing it open and making for the mudroom cum first-aid room.
‘While you take a shower I’ll hunt you up some clothes,’ Allegra told him, gasping from exertion ‘That’s if you don’t mind wearing some of the clothes Mark left here? I was going to give them away. But so far I haven’t got around to it.’
‘Sentimental reasons?’ He was busy pulling off his muddy boots.
‘No,’ she said shortly.
‘I couldn’t wear them otherwise.’ Now he was stripping off his soaked T-shirt with total unselfconsciousness, throwing it in the tub before he turned back to her. His eyes blazed like diamonds in his dynamic face. His hair was like black silk. A beautiful man. ‘Sure there’s nothing of yours I could wear?’ he joked, putting up both hands to skim back that wet hair.
Her heart skipped a beat and her blood coursed to her most sensitive places. She wasn’t sure how she liked him best. Dressed or undressed? Hell, she couldn’t just stand there admiring him, though she actually felt like taking the grand tour around him. Instead she managed a laugh. ‘We’re not really of a size. Don’t worry, everything’s clean. You can’t imagine how fastidious Mark is. Most of the stuff is brand-new.’
‘Beggars can’t be choosers,’ he said, running a careless hand over his wet chest, a gesture she found incredibly erotic.
‘There are clean towels in the cupboard.’ Never in her life had she drunk in the sight of a man’s body like this. ‘Everything you need is there. Don’t get under the shower before I come back.’
‘Why not?’ He shot her a questioning glance…
‘Naked men make me uncomfortable,’ she joked.
He laughed aloud, looking wonderfully vital. ‘Really? And you an ex-married woman! Surely you saw a naked man on a daily basis? Anyway there is such a thing as a towel. I assure you I’d have one at the ready. The last thing I want to do is throw you into a panic. I’ll sit right here.’ He turned, presenting the wide, gleaming fan of his tanned back and pulled up a chair. Then he sat on it, back to front, aiming his wonderful smile at her.
How had this man got so close to her? Why had she let him?
You didn’t have a choice.
Yet he could cast her adrift. Anything was possible in life. But for now, he was making her feel things she had never felt before. She had to will herself to move. ‘Won’t be long.’ She had already taken off her boots and used a towel to mop up the worst of the mud, now she padded towards the doorway leading into the hall. ‘Not much chance
