on, beloved,’ Joe advised his sister this time, ‘you could be giving the wrong impression here.’
Sarah blinked her hazel eyes at her brother. ‘Darling,’ she murmured, ‘one only has to count the trail of broken hearts you’ve left amongst the female population of the Territory alone to know otherwise.’
Joe Jordan looked hurt and outraged at the same time. ‘Now you’ve really done it, Sarah!’
‘Done what?’ She eyed him innocently.
‘Lydia already classes me with Casanova!’
Sarah transferred her gaze to Lydia with some interest. ‘Joe mentioned that you two know each other. I didn’t realise it was in that way.’
‘It’s not,’ Lydia replied coolly. ‘It’s my sister he knows in “that way”.’
Rolf Simpson, a man of few words so far—in fact to Lydia he epitomised the fair dinkum cattleman: tall, lean, sparse of speech and with far-seeing blue eyes—said, ‘It’s never a good idea to come between sisters, mate.’
Lydia flashed a triumphant look at the main shareholder of Katerina Station, then turned her attention to her lunch and the dodging of some uncooked pieces of potato in the salad of the same name.
‘I’m suitably chastened; however—’ Joe took a draught of his beer ‘—I didn’t seek out either of the Kelso sisters.’
‘Gosh!’ Sarah enthused. ‘We could be in for some interesting times, by the sound of it. I’m almost tempted to put our little holiday off, Rolf. She turned to Lydia. ‘I must tell you, if what I think is going on between you two, is going on between you two, I should be delighted to have a vet for a sister-in-law. Just think how handy it would be for my horses, let alone Katerina.’
This time it was Joe Jordan who flashed Lydia a look that, while not exactly triumphant, spoke volumes.
‘When, exactly, do you plan to take your holiday?’ Lydia enquired of Sarah.
‘In a fortnight,’ Sarah replied. ‘We’ll be taking three weeks. But Joe’ll be here, so it’s not as if we’re abandoning you!’
‘I imagine,’ Joe Jordan commented, ‘that Lydia doesn’t quite see it that way.’
‘Why ever not?’ Sarah looked perplexed.
‘She’ll probably tell you herself; she’s a plain speaker, our Lydia.’
‘Joe, I wish you’d stop talking in riddles,’ Sarah protested, then turned her attention to Lydia with a smile. ‘You do look awfully young to be a fully qualified vet.’
‘Twenty-six, although I agree she looks younger,’ her brother commented. ‘But I can assure you she’s very strong.’
‘Ignore him,’ Sarah said to Lydia. ‘He can be impossible.’
But it was Rolf who changed the subject. ‘We are Brucellosis and TB free in the Territory now, Lydia—did you know?’
‘I…yes!’ Lydia murmured, wresting her mind from his brother-in-law, who was sitting back in his chair with the most devilish little glint in his hazel eyes.
‘What do you want now?’ Lydia asked arctically, much later in the day.
It was after dinner, and she’d spent the rest of the day with Rolf and Joe, doing a tour of the main yards and the vet station, and she’d even been able to practise her science on a lame stock horse. She’d found a nail in its hoof and been able to extract it.
Neither man had said much during the operation, but she’d known they were watching keenly. After the nail had come out, and she’d injected the horse with an antibiotic and a tetanus needle, Rolf had remarked that no one else had been able to come up with the cause of the horse’s lameness. It had been a way of saying well done, she gathered.
But instead of going to bed after dinner, despite yawning several times, she’d pulled on a dark green pullover, moved a comfortable cane lounger from the verandah onto the lawn and sunk down in it to watch the millions of stars overhead. That was how Joe Jordan had found her.
‘Nothing. I thought you’d retired.’ He went away and came back in moments with another chair. ‘Mind if I join you?’
She glanced at him sardonically and shrugged.
‘Thank you,’ he returned politely. ‘Hang on again; I’ll be right back.’
This time he was away for five minutes, and he came back with a pottery wine cooler supporting a frosted bottle and two glasses. ‘Thought you might appreciate some kind of a nightcap. Because Sarah doesn’t drink, she forgets others do. And most people drink wine.’
Meg had followed him, and she put her muzzle in Lydia’s lap for a pat before lying down at her master’s feet.
‘I have no intention of drinking half a bottle of wine.’
He pulled the cork from the pocket of his jeans and showed it to her. ‘We can drink as much or as little as we like. It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?’ He gestured sky-wards.
Lydia hesitated, then accepted the glass he’d poured for her and laid her head back. ‘You’re not wrong.’
‘There’s only one better way, and that’s to be camped out. No tent, just a swag beside a small fire, the horses hobbled not far away.’
‘That’s the kind of stuff my father writes about,’ she said dreamily. ‘He was a jackeroo as a young man. He always says it got into his blood.’
‘I’ve read some of his work. It’s good. I’m surprised he didn’t take you outback.’
‘Oh, he did. Just not to the Northern Territory. Cooper Creek, the Barcoo, Lake Eyre—I’ve seen those.’
There was a long silence; Lydia sipped her wine and made no attempt to break it.
It was Joe who finally said, ‘Why are you so mad at me?’
Surprise held her further silent for a moment, then she said wearily, ‘I’m not.’
‘You could have fooled me, but if we discount Daisy as a possible reason—what’s left?’
It was no good trying to study his expression, it was too dark, despite the Milky Way seeming to hang just above their heads, but she had the feeling he was serious.
‘You don’t really hold being a cartoonist against me?’ he queried. ‘As you see, it’s not the only thing I can do.’
‘No…’ She sighed.
‘And you shouldn’t believe Sarah’s stories about a trail of broken hearts—’
‘Why not?’
He paused. ‘Because it’s not true. I… Lydia, are you laughing at me, by any chance?’ he asked ominously.
She
