The Convict and the Cattleman (17 page)

For a moment, he couldn’t say anything. The evenings were hers to do as she wished. Instead of sewing or reading tonight, she offered to take care of him. Did men with wives come home to this treatment with regularity? Give her a strand of pearls, a few dresses and she became as generous as a saint. But when had she acted differently? She could be stubborn and strong-willed. At moments like these, she displayed the qualities a man was supposed to desire in a wife.

“Sounds nothing short of heavenly. Shall I bring the water?” he asked.

“The pie is getting cold,” she scolded. “Let me have this shirt and your stockings.”

Her hands swept the collar of his shirt back, pushed it down his arms and caressed his muscles. With the sway of her skirt, she left. His eyes followed the movement. The exhaustion vanished, replaced by lust. Did she know the effect she had on him? A quick look over her shoulder, the sweep of her tongue over her lips told him she did.

God, he wanted nothing more than to lay with her, tasting her skin and pushing into the velvety richness between her legs. With a groan, he climbed the stairs. The picture of her fully clothed was easily blotted out by memories of her milky flesh atop his quilt. He’d pull a dozen cows out of the mud if it meant coming home to the Irish beauty who made him feel like a king.

15

The first guests arrived shortly after noon. Jonah greeted old friends while the women maintained tables full of light food, pies, cakes and biscuits for weary travelers. The numbers were small so far, but at least three horses for the races were milling around the property, staked to patches of ample grass or being admired.

Thomas Server, his wife and two daughters arrived at the station in the afternoon. Jonah greeted his solicitor with a smile and handshake.

“Glad you could make it. You all look well after the heat and the trip. The men are setting up tents and you’ll soon have a place to rest your heads. The ladies can freshen up in the house. Bridgit will take you.”

She stood in the shade of the porch, shielding her eyes from the sun. In one of her new dresses, she blended in with the women already in attendance. A welcoming smile lit her face. She greeted Thomas’s family and ushered them inside. When they’d gone ahead of her, she turned to smile at him. His heartbeat quickened. Guests be damned, he wanted her. Did it show?

She left and he gestured for Thomas to sit with him on the porch.

“Wherever did you find her?” Thomas asked.

“Parramatta.”

“She’s the convict you hired?” Skepticism colored the question.

“Aye. I’m fortunate to have her.”

Thomas, a good twenty years Jonah’s senior, stroked his salt-and-pepper mustache. “Do you want to hear about the permanent nursemaid I’ve found for you? She came highly recommended.”

The air seemed drier than normal. Jonah cleared his throat and squinted at the paddocks, avoiding Thomas’s eyes. “Who is she?”

The mustache twitched. “You’ve heard of Taggart Station?”

“Aye. Up north, on the Brisbane River.”

George Taggart was a sheep grazier. He’d emigrated to Australia only a dozen years ago. His entire station was run by convicts from Moreton Bay, though transportation to the area had ended the previous year. He pressed for free settlement of the penal colony. A prominent citizen, he’d no doubt get his wish granted if he leaned heavily on the governor.

Thomas nodded. “His eldest daughter is a widow. Charity Burbank has worked as a governess for the last four years. I spoke directly with her charges’ mother. The woman went on and on about the fine manners her children learned. However, they no longer need a governess. She’s young enough to marry again, if she wishes, but hasn’t taken any suitors. She expressed an interest when I told her the position was here.”

Jonah’s colt, Coalface, cantered around the paddock, mane flying in the wind. Bridgit’s troublesome nanny goat was tied to a tree, bleating at the horses. In the silent seconds that followed, he made up his mind.

“Tell her the position has been filled.”

Thomas fiddled with his collar. “You’ll have the chance to tell her yourself.”

Jonah met Thomas’s eyes. “She’s coming?”

“Later this evening, I’m certain of it. It seems Taggart wants to see Laurie Lark for himself. Rumors about your operation are reaching far and wide. I suppose he wants to make certain his daughter isn’t headed for some grass hut on the edge of civilization.” Thomas straightened his collar and patted his mustache again. “Wouldn’t you?”

Someday he’d look after Olivia that way. Taggart wanted the best for his daughter, reasonable enough. Jonah had never turned away a guest and he wasn’t about to start. Let them come, enjoy the festivities, and he’d inform her Bridgit was staying on. After the party, they’d make another trip to Parramatta and fill out the paperwork for Bridgit’s continued employment.

Leaning back, he looked out at the paddock again. “I’ll speak with her about it. Bridgit hasn’t been here long, but she’s fit the role quite well.”

“You might want to hold the decision until you’ve seen Mrs. Burbank. As I said, she’s still young and she’s the picture of elegance and grace. If you want my advice, you wouldn’t go amiss by courting her. Olivia needs a mother more than a nurse, don’t you think?”

“I’ve made up my mind, Thomas.”

“The convict girl is lovely, Jonah, but she’s not the sort you and I hire to raise our children. Mrs. Burbank’s position could turn into something more. Think of what you would gain from marrying her.”

Thomas’s advice had guided him through many complications when he’d become sole owner of the station. There would be certain advantages to marrying a fellow grazier’s daughter. Advantages he didn’t need.

Behind them, the door slammed shut. He turned to find the cause of the racket, but he or she must’ve gone inside.

“I’m raising cattle, not sheep.”

Thomas strove for a casual voice, but no one could miss the excitement when he said, “You could corner both markets.”

“I have enough keeping me busy here without worrying about a bunch of woolies.”

“I’ll let you sleep on it. I’m going to have a cuppa. Perhaps if I meet this convict who’s blinded you to other women, I’ll understand what’s got you so keen on her.”

Nothing to do but wait. Troubled by the ideas Thomas brought to light, Jonah rocked and watched dust billow over the road. Most of the guests would arrive before darkness fell, but a few might straggle in come morning.

Behind the house, the jackaroos were laughing as they set up tents for the guests. Martha, Millicent, Bess and Farjana were preparing dishes for dinner. A roasted steer hung over a fire near the kitchen. The finest Andrus beef for his company.

He left the porch and walked toward the cemetery. Stone crosses, bearing his parents’ names, stood out against the landscape. He didn’t doubt they’d be glad he’d continued the tradition of the party. Much of the station’s early success was due to friends and neighbors.

People who would soon learn of Olivia’s birth. Charlotte’s daughter was as much a part of the station as he was. Let those who would judge her, judge. The rest would accept her. The country was made up of people with shifty backgrounds and those willing to beg, borrow or steal. Charlotte wouldn’t have hidden Olivia away. Out of respect for his sister, he wouldn’t, either.

More wagons and buggies were coming down the rutted road. Time to smile, greet guests and help them settle in. Charlotte’s warm nature drew people. He preferred to stand back and watch. No luck this year. Someone had to shake hands and make small talk. It wasn’t so bad, knowing Bridgit waited for him at the end of the day.

* * * *

A sturdy black gig arrived at the house. The Chinese driver set the brake and jumped down to assist a young woman with a parasol.

Jonah, deep in conversation with Niles Jackson and Phil, hardly noticed the newcomers until Phil let out a low whistle, his eyes trained on the woman.

“Who’s that bit of lovely?” Phil asked.

Thomas appeared from nowhere with an answer. “That, gentlemen, is George Taggart and his widowed daughter, Charity Burbank.”

Taggart was a robust man with a full head of white hair. His clothes looked expensive, boots shined to perfection. The horse pulling the gig was huge and easily as glossy as its master’s boots.

Mrs. Burbank folded the parasol down. Sunlight kissed her features. If the day’s heat affected her, it didn’t show. A mass of dark curls spilled over one shoulder. Her traveling suit was free from wrinkles, accenting her curvy figure and narrow waist. The pink material matched the glow of her cheeks. Thin eyebrows rose as she looked over the grounds. When she saw the men, a radiant smile formed on her face. Wide brown eyes framed with thick lashes widened.

“Thank you, Ping. See to the luggage,” Taggart requested.

“My pleasure, sir,” Ping answered.

Taggart offered his arm to her. She slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow and they mounted the stairs. Jonah, Phil and Niles stood.

“Welcome to Laurie Lark, Mr. Taggart. It’s a pleasure having you here. I’m Jonah Andrus.” His eyes were drawn to Charity, but he forced himself to hold Taggart’s gaze.

Taggart took his hand and shook it. “A pleasure for me as well. We’ve heard a great deal about you and the station. This is Charity, my daughter.”

Jonah gestured at his companions. “Phillip Banner, a long-term jackaroo here. Thomas Server, I believe you’ve met Mrs. Burbank. And Niles Jackson, who runs a stock agency in Sydney.”

They exchanged greetings and Taggart looked over the porch and the grounds. All eyes remained riveted on Charity. She acknowledged each man with a nod and smile, but her face brightened when she greeted Jonah. Thomas gave him a sly wink. She was a sight, but Bridgit’s features and bell-like laughter rose to mind.

Charity stepped away from her father. “Mr. Andrus. I’ve looked forward to meeting you for a couple of weeks now. I hope we might find time to have a quick chat while your man shows Papa the best parts of your station.”

He nodded. “Yes, of course. Phil, make sure you convince Mr. Taggart that Coalface is the colt to bet on tomorrow. Mrs. Burbank, this way.”

He opened the door for her and caught Thomas’s pointed look. The older man pursed his lips and raised his brows in a what-did-I-tell-you gesture.

“What a beautiful home you have, Mr. Andrus. Papa was certain we were coming to the farthest reaches of civilization. He swears bushrangers pour from the darkest parts of the foothills or some other nonsensical thing.” Her face was graced with a smile that brightened her eyes.

“Thank you. I can’t say I’ve much interest in the interior of the house. Most of my time is devoted to the land on the horizon.”

They strode past the parlor, but he stopped short when he saw Millicent there. She looked between the stranger and him with a concerned frown on her face.

“Just having a moment of peace, away from the noise of the kitchen, Jonah. Don’t let me keep you from business.”

“Perhaps you’d like to offer Mrs. Burbank a refreshment,” he prompted.

Millicent, eyes agleam, nodded. “Of course. I’ll fetch tea.” She gave them a sweet smile and left.

He motioned for Charity to follow him again.

“My cook’s youngest daughter. She means well.” Except her sudden appearance seemed odd. Shrugging it off, he led Charity to the study.

He waited until she settled into the heavy leather chair on the other side of his desk before taking his seat. The light from the window seemed drawn to her.

Charity folded her hands, leaned forward slightly and smiled again. “You’ve no idea how excited I was when Mr. Server informed me of the position here. I’ve heard many things about the progressive way you run this station. Cattle, a marvelous idea.”

“Credit for that venture goes to my father. He preferred beef on the table at dinner.”

“A clever man, one no doubt canny enough to see his family would make strides in bringing money and prosperity to Australia. I’m sure you know Taggart Station is merely my father’s hobby farm. All his money is invested elsewhere.” Her smile faltered a little.

“I know his reputation, but I thought the sheep industry benefited from his attention to breeding.”