Rachel thought that it was most likely teenagers. Ralph thought it was a rival rose grower, seeing as how the annual show was just months away and Maude’s roses always took out the championship. The church ladies – who relied on Maude’s roses to fill their church vases – thought they’d like to see the culprit strung up by the nearest hanging tree. Arthur, a keen rose grower himself, was just plain speechless.
On one thing everyone agreed. Things like that just didn’t happen in Inverglen.
Billie wasn’t expecting Maude to come in to work that afternoon but Maude Thompson was made of tougher stuff than that. She came in at three-thirty and it was business as usual as Cal helped her collect the bowls and trays and ingredients she’d need for meat pies. Her apprentice pie-maker, she called him, and after measuring and sifting and stacking dishes, Cal got down to the important business of rolling out
his
pastry for
his
pie and choosing a filling to go in it.
‘I’m sorry about your roses, Maude.’ Billie didn’t know what else to say.
‘Roses are tough. Some will grow back,’ said Maude. ‘I’m trying to think of it as an early hard prune. And I get to choose new ones—’ She broke off as Roly struggled through the door carrying two large potted roses in full leaf.
‘Thought I might find you here,’ he muttered. ‘These are from Arthur. A couple of his Pat Austins. Where do you want them?’
‘He’s actually giving them to me?’ said Maude.
‘Well I didn’t steal them if that’s what you mean,’ Roly said gruffly. ‘He was looking to give you a couple of those weedy Tangerine Princesses but I never did like those myself so I nudged him towards old Pat, seeing as it’s the only rose that’s ever been able to beat your Queen Adelaide at the show. He said to tell you that it wasn’t a sign of a guilty conscience, no matter what Ralph says, and that you could thank him by not embarrassing him and winning with them at the show.’
‘Oh, Roland!’ Maude’s eyes were suspiciously bright.
Roly’s eyes widened and he set the bushes down on the counter with a thud and backed away fast. ‘Now, Maude,’ he said. ‘There’s no need to get sentimental.’
Maude sniffed and pulled out a linen handkerchief from the folds of her apron. Roly took one look at the handkerchief, a second look at Maude, and fled.
‘That man!’ said Maude as she wiped at her eyes. ‘He came down to my house this morning and made a complete ass of himself checking the locks on all my windows and doors, and the next thing I know he’s out in the garden turning my compost.’
‘Er, is that a bad thing?’ asked Billie. ‘Turning your compost?’
‘Well, no, for it did need turning. It’s just that half the townspeople saw him doing it.’
‘And that means what, exactly?’ Billie wasn’t quite up to speed on compost etiquette. ‘I’m not sure what you’re getting at.’
‘Well it’s obvious isn’t it? I’m a widow. He’s a widower.’ Maude sniffed, squared her shoulders. ‘Next thing you know everyone will think we’re having an affair.’
‘So Roly’s protective instincts are roaring, and Maude’s threatening to brain him with a stewing pot if he doesn’t get over it,’ said Billie as she traced a lazy finger down Adam’s spine and over taut buttocks. He was naked again and so was she and they were way out the back of his property somewhere, hidden amongst a small cluster of gum trees and wattles and surrounded on all sides by golden summer grass. Sated for now, but not for long if she knew Adam’s habits. Adam smiled lazily as he rolled off her and onto the swag beside her, wanting contact nonetheless as he twined her fingers in his.
‘I’d like to see that.’
‘Come into the pub some time and you can,’ she murmured and then wished she’d kept her mouth shut when he stilled. ‘Go in this weekend. I’ve got the weekend off.’
‘Roly works you too hard,’ he said by way of an answer.
‘It’s not hard work.’
‘Too many hours.’
‘Less than I used to do. And for comparable pay. I’m happy with the move, with the way things have worked out.’
‘What about your son? He happy here?’
‘I think so. Mainly because of Blue.’ Talk of Cal was generally kept to a minimum owing to Adam’s studied indifference. ‘I’m thinking of getting him a puppy for Christmas, on the off chance that you might someday want your dog
back
.’
Adam grinned briefly. ‘Sounds like a plan.’
‘So I need to ask you where you got Blue.
’
‘He’s out of Casey’s old bitch, but she’s old now. She hasn’t had a litter in years.’
‘Or if he ever donates his services hereabouts.’
‘Not lately,’ said Adam. ‘I could arrange it. Not in time for a Christmas puppy, though.’
‘Or I could get Cal a pushbike,’ she murmured. ‘He’s wanted one of those for years.’
‘Why didn’t you get him one?’
‘Where we were in Sydney?’ Billie rolled over onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows the better to see Adam’s face. ‘Nowhere to ride it. Nowhere safe.’
Adam closed his eyes and Billie stifled a sigh. Conversation over, apparently. Too much conversation about a part of her life he wanted no part of, a piece of herself that she would
never
give up. Time to finish this clandestine affair; she knew it in her heart. Not fair to anyone if she fell for a man who wanted no part of her son.
‘Si’s got a pup,’ he said, his eyes still closed. ‘Little border collie. He’s not working out.’
‘Why not?’
‘Too gentle with the sheep and not an ounce of bluff.’ Adam opened his eyes and fixed her with a strangely wary gaze. ‘You want me to take you to have a look at him?’
‘Would you?’
‘I just offered.’
Which in itself seemed like a minor miracle. Adam Kincaid offering to take her somewhere other than the remotest corners of his property. ‘Can Cal come too?’
‘You don’t want this pup to be a surprise on Christmas day?’
‘If it were one of Blue’s puppies, no question I’d keep it a surprise. Given that it’s not, I think I’d rather Cal choose for himself. It’ll be his dog. Better that way, don’t you think?’
Hard to tell what Adam thought because he closed his eyes again and draped his arm across his face for good measure. A body wide open for her pleasure and a mind and heart so firmly closed.
‘I said I’d give Si a hand drenching ewes this Sunday,’ he said after what felt like an eternity. ‘How about then?’
Adam kept his word. And as he pulled up to the cottage on Sunday just before lunch time, Billie told Cal where they were going. Probably not the best idea she’d ever had, given the instant hero worship in her son’s eyes as he looked to Kincaid and to Blue in the back and climbed eagerly into the cab of the ute.
‘Hey,’ said Adam.
‘Mum says you’re taking us to look at a pup and that if we like him we can buy him.’ Cal aimed for cool, calm and collected, but the blinding smile that followed his words gave him away. ‘One of Blue’s puppies?’
‘No. Blue doesn’t have any pups on the ground at the moment. For that we’d have to find a bitch and you’d have to wait another four or five months. Maybe longer.’
‘Oh.’ Cal pondered the dilemma of waiting versus instant gratification.
‘This pup is one my brother kept over from
his
bitch’s last litter. He was planning on training him to run sheep but it turns out he’s not much of a sheepdog. Or cattle dog, for that matter.’
‘So what does he herd?’ asked Cal.
‘Ducklings,’ said Adam. ‘Straight back to their mother.’
Cal peppered Adam with questions as they drove to wherever it was they were going. Into town and out the other side, with Adam doling out snippets of information as they went. The pup in question was six months old and all foolishness and legs, with one eye blue and the other eye brown. Which led to talk of music, and no little debate over favourite albums and hits.
And then they passed through an impressive set of wrought iron gates flanked by a large, no-nonsense sign that read
Kincaid Stud Holdings
.
‘Wow,’ said Cal, as they continued along a smooth straight dirt track, lined either side with huge poplars. ‘Your brother must be loaded.’
Billie winced and gave her errant son a dig in the ribs, never mind that he’d voiced her thoughts exactly.
‘What?’ protested Cal. ‘It wasn’t a
question
about money.’
‘It was more of a statement,’ said Adam.
‘Yeah,’ echoed Cal with a nod. ‘A statement.’
‘It still wasn’t polite. Even if you think it, you shouldn’t say it.’
‘But you and Maude and Roly talk about money all the time.’
‘We talk about the business and how much things cost. I don’t ask them how much they’ve got. There’s a difference.’
‘This is the main family farm,’ intercepted Adam easily, and if Billie didn’t know better she’d have said he was running interference for her son. ‘My great grandfather planted the trees along this driveway and every Kincaid since then has added their bit. On paper, we own a lot of land and far too many sheep but the bottom line is that that this place costs plenty to maintain and the income we take off it is a modest one. Like most farming families hereabouts, we tend to be asset rich and cash poor.’
Yeah, right.
Billie’s idea of cash poor was getting down to less than a hundred dollars in her savings account and knowing full well that the car rego was due. She didn’t know what Adam’s idea of cash poor involved, but she was betting it didn’t involve a double-digit bank balance. It was a distinction she hadn’t seen quite so clearly out at Casey’s Ridge, but she was seeing it now. ‘It’s only Simon, right? And his sheep. How long is this driveway, anyhow?’
‘Relax.’ Adam slid her a glance. ‘How many cups of coffee have you had this morning?’
‘One,’ she said and summoned up a nervous smile. ‘Two.’ But she’d never been to a man’s family estate before, and surely someone could have mentioned that he was practically landed gentry before now? Not that she had a huge chip on her shoulder about her modest finances and the absence of family in her life – it was only a little chip – but this place had history. Moneyed and majestic, it was doing its damndest to make her feel small. ‘So, who lives here now?’
‘Simon has a cottage a lot like yours just over that hill there. Si’s pretty much taken over the running of the place, although my father would tell you differently. My parents live in the original homestead when they’re here – which isn’t often. They’re in Canada at the moment.’
‘Oh,’ she said, and refrained from adding ‘good’, because all of a sudden she didn’t particularly want to meet Adam’s parents and witness them trying to hide their dismay as they took stock of her, and maybe they wouldn’t be like that – but this place suggested otherwise, and the memory of Adam’s mother-in-law suggested otherwise, and the world in general had taught her otherwise.
‘You all right?’ asked Adam.
‘Fine.’ Give or take an inferiority complex that had grown to roughly the size of the driveway. ‘Just looking.’
An enormous shearing shed came into sight. A flock of sheep milled about a nearby set of yards. Billie could see Simon and a couple of dogs herding them from behind. Twisted peppercorn trees provided some measure of shade. Elsewhere, sunlight lit the dust in the air and turned fleece the colour of gold.
And then they pulled up beside the shed and Adam cut the engine and the sheep baaed, the flies descended and the dust refused to settle. Closer inspection revealed that Simon was wearing the oldest clothes imaginable, and a hat that looked like it had been trampled on by each and every one of his sheep. He looked dusty, disreputable and dangerously out of patience. Billie started to smile. This was no picture-perfect meet and greet. This, she could handle.
‘Which one’s the puppy?’ asked Cal.
‘The one standing in the middle of the yard Si’s trying to drive those sheep into,’ said Adam with a smile, a genuine Kincaid grin that widened when Cal smiled back. ‘Play your cards right, kid, and Si’ll
pay
you to take that fool pup away.’
The puppy in question was looking their way.
‘What’s his name?’ asked Cal as he clambered out of the cab behind Adam.
‘Henry.’
Billie joined them by the side of the ute just as Cal put his hands to his knees and called the pup’s name and then sweet and leggy Henry was at Cal’s feet with the speed of a bullet, all legs and too-big ears as he planted his butt in the dirt and then tried to wriggle closer, and closer, until finally he was sitting on Cal’s shoe before collapsing in a squirming mass of ecstasy when Cal bent down to pat him.
‘What? You don’t pat your dogs around here?’ she murmured.
‘Of course we do,’ said Adam as Blue looked down on both pup and boy from the lofty height of the tray of the ute and barked a short sharp reprimand down at the boy, the pup, or both – at which point Henry promptly peed himself.
‘This isn’t a done deal,’ she said.
‘Yeah, it is,’ muttered Adam with a grin that lit up his face. ‘You just don’t know it yet.’
They stayed on to help Simon drench his sheep, and where Adam went, Cal and that fool pup went too, and Adam was patient with them, so incredibly calm and patient, as he showed her son what to do and what not to do. Dusty and dirty, all of them, by the end of it, and it was Cal up on top of the race at the end of the day with the drench gun in his hand and the drench pack slung over his slender shoulders, administering the doses, while Adam and Simon pushed the last of the sheep through. Sleepy Cal, squished between her and Adam on the way home, with one exhausted pup called Henry tied up in the back of the truck next to Blue. Sleepy Cal wore an old felt hat that looked a lot like Si’s, only
this
hat belonged to Adam and at some point amongst all the chaos he’d shoved it on Cal’s head, and a wide brimmed women’s hat that he’d scrounged from the woolshed on hers.
‘I’d ask you in for leftovers but you’ve probably got places to go,’ she said when they pulled up at the cottage.
He hesitated for a moment, but then his lashes came down to shield his eyes and his words came gruff and final. ‘Yeah.’
‘Will you leave Blue?’ asked Cal.