The distance was almost covered before Dave spoke again. He was smiling slightly as he said,
‘You have the men puzzled; they’re all looking this way.’
Gail saw the men staring in disbelief and supposed it was a strange sight for a woman and a little girl to be striding over this wild and ruthless terrain. It was tra-ditionally man’s country, this austere bushland called the Outback where wealthy graziers ruled like kings over their vast domains. Kane Farrell’s head was also turned; a frown of puzzlement knit his brow as his lazy glance shifted from Dave to Gail before finally settling on the child. She looked as bright as a button in her coloured clothes, her gay cap and scarf. The doll still trailed at her side, forlorn and minus a shoe. Kane Farrell, eyes narrowed against the setting sun, brought his interrogating gaze back to Dave. Gail stopped, her hand clasping that of Leta. The time seemed all wrong, she ought not to have acted precipitately, But it was done now, and anyway, Kane Farrell deserved to be shown up before his men. And so, sending him a direct look and at the same time urging Leta forward with a hand in the small of the child’s back, Gail said in clear and ringing tones,
‘Mr. Farrell, let me introduce your daughter! Leta, say hello to your father—’
‘My—!’ His expression changed to one of stupefaction and Gail was gratified to note that he was bereft of speech. She noted also the astounded expressions of the stockmen, heard the staggering exclamation that came from Dave. ‘What did you say?’ Slow the drawl and crisp. ‘I have a feeling that I didn’t hear aright?’ Sliding from his horse as he spoke, Kane Farrell slowly crossed the space separating him from Gail and Leta. Gail had time to see six feet odd of perfectly formed muscle and bone before he was above her, and she tilted her head right back to look into eyes the colour of slate-grey, hard inscrutable eyes that seemed to be boring into her very mind.
‘You heard aright, Mr. Farrell.’ Her voice was still steady, but her heartbeats were not. Also, she was aware of a vague uneasiness because this man’s manner and appearance were so very different from what she had expected. His eyes, though cold and hard, held an honest expression; his mouth was fuller and more generous than she had imagined, although there was a certain ruthlessness about it, and a firmness that spelt inflexibility. His whole bearing, though arrogant and confident, was impressive in that it gave a picture of integrity and lofty ideals. He was a man sure of himself, a man with the ability to command. He was a person whom anyone, even at first glance, would not hesitate to pronounce as a man to be trusted, a man upright and conscientious. Most certainly he would never be stamped as a man who had shirked his responsibilities, who had carelessly tossed aside his moral obligations. Yet all this would appear to be contradictory, Gail reminded herself, since he was the father of Leta, the child he had abandoned, a child whom he knew existed but did not care how she existed — or how her mother existed either. And he so wealthy a man. Why, no matter how much he had sent to Sandra he would never have missed it!
Turning to Leta, Gail once again told her to say hello to her father, but before she could do so she—like Gail—heard the amused titters coming from the stockmen, some of whom had actually dismounted and drawn nearer so as not to miss anything of this free entertainment. Leta turned and glared and Gail’s heart missed a beat. Leta hated to be laughed at; it riled her and she would always reveal the worst side of her nature should this happen. Gail—and indeed everyone who knew her—guarded against annoying the child in this way. But these men, totally unconscious of what they were doing, continued to titter, and in fact one man, noting that Leta’s cheeks were turning bright red, as well as swelling up, started to laugh in earnest.
‘You’re laughing at me!’ she seethed. ‘Yes, you are! I hate you!’ and before he could make a guess at her intention she had taken a brooch from her scarf and thrust the pin into his leg.
‘Hell!’ he exclaimed. ‘You little brat!’
‘I’ll do it again—and again!’ And she did, until, amid the laughter of his fellows, the man escaped by running away. Like a little wildcat Leta turned on another and gave him similar treatment.
‘I’m afraid,’ said Gail, looking up at Kane Farrell, ‘that your daughter is not very well behaved. In fact—’ She was interrupted by a lift of Kane Farrell’s hand, but whatever he was about to say was silenced by Leta, who shouted,
‘That’s right, I’m not well behaved! I’m the worst little girl in the whole world! I hate people, you see, and so I like making them angry! I’d like to kill all these men for laughing at me!’ She would have continued, but Kane Farrell was speaking, ordering the men to remove themselves. This they did, galloping away over the plain. Dave, uncertain and obviously just about as uncomfortable as he could be, explained about the rouseabouts, but Kane interrupted to inform him that he had received a message over the air. One man had met with an accident and was in hospital; the other would not come without him.
‘I wondered if you would hear from them,’ Dave said. ‘I had the empty car, and this young lady wanted to come here, so—’
‘That’s all right—very sensible.’ Kane Farrell’s face was impassive, his tone completely untroubled. Dave, noting this, seemed to breathe a sigh of relief—but at the same time was amazed that his boss was remaining so calm in this present situation. ‘Please leave us, Dave.’
‘Yes, Boss,’ and without a glance either for Gail or Leta, Dave strode briskly away towards the path along which he had come.
‘And now,’ drawled Kane Farrell evenly, ‘perhaps you will explain?’ His face was an impenetrable mask, but Gail had the impression that his mind was working at top speed.
‘Your daughter,’ began Gail, when she was interrupted, this time by Leta herself. The child had drawn so close to her and Kane Farrell that she was at his feet.
And like a miracle her whole manner underwent a change. Her mouth curved in a smile, her face was bright—animated, almost—and her beautiful eyes shone up at her father. Gail stared, open-mouthed, absorbing the fact that the child very much liked what she saw,
‘Hello, Daddy!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve come to live with you because I can’t live with Mummy any more. She’s gone to heaven and ...’ The bright excited voice trailed away as Leta turned to Gail, a question in her eyes, her forehead wrinkled as if she were struggling mentally. ‘What else did you tell me to say? I can’t remember—but I’m still having my books and chocolates and dolls’ clothes, remember!’ A threatening finger was wagged at Gail and Kane Farrell’s eyes narrowed ominously. However, it was not anger Gail detected in his expression ... no, it was something very strange indeed. He seemed to be deep in thought, as if a plan of action had formulated in his brain. ‘If you don’t give me all the things you promised I’ll kick and scream and pull your hair out!’ Leta was continuing in a loud voice. ‘It isn’t my fault that I’ve forgotten some of the things you said I must say to my daddy!’
Gail had naturally coloured vividly at this. Kane Farrell’s eyes were for a second tinged with amusement, but that something else still remained. How cool he was! It amazed Gail that, confronted like this with the child he had deserted, he could remain so unruffled. It was almost as if this sort of thing was an everyday occurrence with him, she thought, having an inexplicable desire to laugh—hysterically.
‘I d-did mention that her name was Leta?’ she stammered, and only then did she remember that he knew his daughter’s name anyway, from the letters Sandra had sent him. ‘Sandra, when she wrote to you all that time ago, would have told you everything about her ...’ She stopped, realizing she was speaking just for the sake of it, to relieve the tension that had taken possession of her. Her voice had a cracked quality about it which seemed to be affording her listener some amusement. Yet when he spoke it was absently, and his eyes seemed to be staring into the past.
‘All that time ago...’ he was murmuring at last, repeating some of Gail’s words and allowing his eyes to wander down to the child who, still at his feet, was staring up at him with a smile on her lips. He continued to stare at her with an intentness that revealed nothing to Gail. ‘Yes, all that time ago.’
‘Oh,’ intervened Leta brightly, ‘I’ve just remembered some more that you told me to say to my daddy—’
‘Never mind,’ broke in Gail, glaring at her. ‘You can now be quiet while I talk to your daddy.’
But another silence followed, with Kane Farrell’s face a study—unfathomable yet disturbing. His mind was on Leta, no doubt of that. What was he thinking about her behaviour? Strangely, he seemed not to be too perturbed by it, observed Gail, once again feeling that he had in mind some plan, a plan of which Leta was a part. He transferred his attention to Gail, saying quietly,
‘I’m waiting for your explanation, Miss...?’ A brow was raised inquiringly as he waited for her to answer his unspoken question.
‘Stafford,’ she replied briefly, and noticed his slight start of surprise.
‘The same name as Sandra. Some relation?’
‘Cousin.’ She paused a moment, aware of the fact that she had fully expected him to deny that he was the father of Leta. ‘You’re obviously intending to admit that this little girl is yours?’ she added, speaking her thoughts aloud.
Kane Farrell’s sudden smile was ironic. He deliberately allowed her question to go by unanswered.
‘Please say what you have to say, Miss Stafford.’ His horse was a little distance away, cropping grass, and Leta was now interestedly watching it.
Gail explained as briefly as possible, making no effort to keep the contempt from her voice. This could not escape him and several times his eyes glinted with anger. He appeared dangerous and Gail had to give herself an impatient shake on finding herself affected by an access of trepidation.
‘So her mother died three weeks ago?’ Kane Farrell’s eyes hardened to points of steel. Gail stared, bewildered by his manner. Yet he was apparently puzzled about something, for he shook his head from side to side, for the moment seeming to have forgotten her presence altogether. ‘And she made you promise to bring this child to her father?’
‘Yes, that’s what I’ve said. She left sufficient money for the journey—it was a legacy she received from our aunt. But even had she not left money I would have brought Leta to you.’ She paused a second, but he made no attempt to speak and she continued, ‘She’s had a dreadful time, Mr. Farrell, trying to bring up this little girl. It wasn’t only the keeping of her, but the managing of her. Poor Sandra was utterly worn out—’
‘There you go again!’ cut in Leta, red in the face with anger. ‘Everybody says I’m naughty and wicked!’
‘Which of course is correct,’ commented Kane Farrell mildly. ‘You must learn to control your temper, my child.’
Leta put out her tongue, but then she smiled at him, and her whole expression changed. She looked positively attractive, and even cuddlesome.
‘You’ll have to be very firm with her,’ Gail was recommending. ‘Perhaps a man can do something with her—’ She spread her hands in a little helpless gesture. ‘I don’t know — I really do not know!’ A tinge of despair edged her voice and he turned to her with interest. She flushed, much to her annoyance. But this man from the Outback, this bronzed and toughened cattleman whose very appearance spoke of the great outdoors, overwhelmed her with his dominant personality, his lofty confidence, his air of superiority. She resented this attitude of his and in consequence allowed her contempt to be revealed in her expression. It was defensive, but his eyes glinted and she saw his fist close, slowly and menacingly. A quiver of awe passed through her and she wished she had seen the end of this interview and was safely aboard the Overlander and on her way home.
‘Her mother could have done something, surely?’ he said frowningly.
‘She tried, but Leta became unmanageable. It might be of interest to you, Mr. Farrell, to know that, in the end, my cousin lost the will to live.’
His frown deepened.
‘How old was she?’ he inquired, and it did seem that a look of pain fleetingly crossed the tough but handsome face.
‘How old?’ Gail stared at him scathingly. ‘You should know! She must have told you how old she was! When she died she was not quite twenty-three!’
His dark brows contracted.
‘Be careful,’ he warned in a cold and measured tone. ‘People don’t usually speak to me in that manner.’
She lowered her head, annoyed with herself that she should be intimidated by so quiet a voice. But Kane Farrell was so disconcerting, his very lack of emotion set her off balance. She had expected an angry out burst, and an attempted denial that the child was his. Instead she had met this air of calm, adopted without the slightest effort after that first astounded exclamation on suddenly being brought face to face with his daughter.
Gail spoke, unable to bear the silence any longer.
‘If there are any more questions you wish to ask, Mr. Farrell,’ she said in stiff and formal tones, ‘then please do so. If not, perhaps you will tell me how I’m to get back to the railway station?’
Did his mouth curve slightly? His expression was strange, but certainly not amused. Nevertheless, Gail did suspect that his lips had twitched and that, inwardly, he had found something at which to smile.
‘I have many questions to ask,’ he told her calmly. ‘But I feel they will all be answered if you relate the story to me right from the beginning.’
‘The beginning?’ she frowned. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
He moved, turning his head in the direction of the low hills which spread away in the far distance. The sun was lowering quickly and its slanting rays threw shadows as they pierced the thin layer of cloud which had gathered suddenly. Kane Farrell’s face, shaded by the broad brim of his hat, was no longer visible to Gail. She knew for sure that this hiding of it from her was deliberate. Why should he not wish her to see his expression?