Breakaway Creek. Heather GarsideЧитать онлайн книгу.
Grammar, the same as George. I didn't stay as long as he did, though. I never liked the city - all that noise and bustle.' The call of the bush had been too strong. He hadn't been able to settle into his studies or enjoy the Brisbane social scene as George had. George had met Lucy at a party there, but even the wedding had been an ordeal for Alex.
Emma smoothed her skirt, her movements quick and nervous. He cursed himself for upsetting her.
'I know what you mean about the hustle and bustle,' she said. 'It's so peaceful here. But don't you ever get lonely?'
'I used to.' He didn't say any more, but her startled glance told him she read his meaning perfectly well. She looked away, her colour heightening again.
'I should go back to the house. Lucy will be starting dinner.'
He didn't ask if he would see her tomorrow. That was up to her. If he'd frightened her away, that was probably a good thing. But as watched her walk away, despondency weighed heavy on him.
****
Emma's mind was in turmoil as she returned to the house. She could no longer pretend that it was just a light-hearted flirtation. Alex was obviously interested in her and she must decide if she should continue to encourage him. His strength and gentleness irresistibly drew her, but today there'd been a disturbing intensity in his manner.
She doubted the match would be a problem, if it weren't for his lack of prospects. She loved it here at Breakaway Creek and she could imagine making her life here with him. But did his future include the property? According to George he was only the overseer and would never be anything more. Her parents would never agree to such a union.
It was hard to face Lucy's questioning glance when she walked into the kitchen. Lucy and George knew she'd been seeing a lot of Alex. But something in Emma's expression must have warned her cousin not to comment.
George surprised her with an invitation over dinner.
'We're mustering the Five-Mile Paddock tomorrow, Emma. It won't be a long day. Would you like to come with us?'
'I'd love to!' But caution swiftly tempered the thrill of anticipation. 'Lucy, do you mind? It doesn't seem fair to leave you alone.'
Lucy smiled generously.
'Of course you must go! I'll feel madly jealous, but I couldn't ask you to stay at home on my account.'
Emma hesitated.
'No, go on,' Lucy insisted. 'I've had my opportunity to enjoy the mustering. Why shouldn't you?'
Early the next morning, dressed in her riding habit and boots, Emma carried a borrowed side-saddle to the horse yards. She and Lucy had cut lunches for George and herself and the sandwiches, wrapped in newspaper, were stowed in her saddlebag. Lucy's blackened quart-pot was strapped to the d-rings of the saddle.
A pair of blue cattle dogs ran to greet her, tails wagging as they drooled in excitement. While she stooped to pat them, George led up a little brown mare.
'This is Lucy's horse, but she's happy for you to ride her. Her name's Fortune.'
He picked up the saddlecloth as if to saddle her, but Emma reached out to take it from him.
'I can do that, George.' During the course of her visit, they had come to be on first name terms. If Lucy was like a sister, she was beginning to think of George as a brother. 'I don't believe women should be helpless.'
'Oh yes.' George grinned but let her take over. 'I'd forgotten you were such a bluestocking.'
Alex, who seemed extraordinarily quiet, looked up from tightening his horse's girth and smiled. As his eyes met Emma's, something seemed to flash between them and her pulse quickened. When he turned back to his horse she watched him covertly while she positioned the side-saddle on the mare's back, her eyes lingering on the breadth of his shoulders and travelling the length of his moleskins.
She brought herself back from her daydream suddenly and busied herself with the reins, her face heating. What was she doing, staring at him like that? Hopefully George hadn't noticed. She didn't quite understand the subtle longing within her, a craving to be close to Alex's quiet strength and good looks.
They set off with Mick and Billy, the two Aboriginal stockmen, and old Mr Baxter who sat on his horse with an easy grace despite his age. He'd muttered a brief greeting, his cold eyes flickering over her with an indifference that stung. Emma hadn't exchanged more than a dozen words with him, and she didn't think that was about to change. Not for the first time she marvelled that such a man had fathered a son as warm and outgoing as George.
It was early enough to be pleasantly cool. The sun shone brightly with only a promise of the day's heat. Fortune, walked briskly, her ears pricked as if anticipating the day's work. Her mouth was soft; she seemed quiet and well mannered. It felt good to be back on a horse again.
Mr Baxter took the lead, alone. George and Alex rode abreast behind him, discussing their plans for the day. Emma followed while the stockmen brought up the rear. When they entered the paddock they were to muster, Mr Baxter gave instructions from his horse as Alex put up the slip rails that served as a gate.
'We'll split up to cover the paddock. Mick and Billy can come with me. Miss Watson, you go with George and Alex.'
Twenty minutes later, Emma was beginning to wonder if they'd ever find cattle when George pointed out a mob in the distance.
'You be careful, Emma,' he warned. 'Stay back if they start to run.'
'I'm a competent rider,' she protested.
'I'm sure you are, but I won't have you galloping through the timber in a side-saddle.'
Alex checked his horse and fell back beside her.
'He's right, Miss Watson. I've seen plenty of men come to grief.' He paused. 'If you get lost, stay where you are and cooee until we find you.'
It was the first time he'd spoken to her since they'd left the yards and Emma was feeling his neglect. She seethed inwardly. Of course mustering was a new experience for her, but it wasn't fair to judge her by Lucy's abilities. Her cousin had never been a particularly good rider.
As the men had obviously expected, the cattle set off at a fast rate through the box timber. George and Alex gathered up their reins and their horses leapt into a gallop. Fortune tossed her head and danced sideways, loath to be left behind. Emma put her into a cautious canter, startled at the sudden transformation of her mild-mannered mount.
Threading her way through the trees at speed was tricky. The cattle and men were soon out of sight and, afraid of becoming lost, Emma relaxed her tight hold of the mare's head. Fortune immediately increased her speed and Emma rode with grim concentration, guiding the mare through the timber with heel and hand.
Suddenly a bird flew up in front of Fortune's hooves, making the horse jump sideways. Thrown partly out of the saddle, Emma battled to bring the mare under control, but was unable to turn her away from the tree that loomed ahead. Emma's left shin slammed against its trunk. In a haze of pain she felt herself become dislodged. As the panicked mare raced out from under her, the ground rushed up to meet her.
The brutal impact knocked the wind from her body. Agony consumed her as she tried to suck air into her lungs. It seemed like minutes before she was able to drag herself to a seated position and gingerly move her arms and legs. Her left leg protested and she pulled up the skirt of her habit, revealing a bleeding graze on her shin and an already egg-sized lump.
She staggered to her feet and moved to the shade, where she leant against a tree trunk for support. Fortune was nowhere in sight. What should she do? Wait until the men came looking for her, she supposed, remembering Alex's instructions if she got lost. She flushed. How humiliating to have come to grief at the first bit of action!
She was wondering if she should start cooeeing when Alex rode out of the trees, leading Fortune from his own horse. His anxious face made her immediately forget her fear of his derision. He swung out of the saddle without a word and dropped both sets of reins, moving to grasp her hands in his.