Heart of the Dreaming (21 page)

He took her in his arms and lowered his face to hers, murmuring, ‘May I?' He kissed her long and hard, tightening his arms about her, pulling her to his body.

Queenie felt nothing.

Warwick drew back and stared at her, his eyes hard and hurt. Dropping his arms he turned on his heel and left the room, flinging over his shoulder, ‘You're a bloody challenge, Queenie. I'll give you that.'

Queenie didn't answer. She closed her eyes, swallowing hard.

No more was said about getting married. They went into the bank manager and also saw Hamish Barton, Queenie's solicitor, who drew up a partnership agreement; and they deposited an equal share of money in the new Cricklewood account.

Over a sandwich and a glass of beer at the pub they discussed how they would begin to crossbreed the new Brahman bulls with Hereford cattle.

‘There's a stud down in Victoria who started importing Brahman bulls. Took him years to get them in and established, but he's now selling. That's where we go,' said Warwick.

‘Those bulls will be costly and we'll have to buy a decent mob of Hereford breeding stock.'

Warwick drained his beer. ‘You end up with a tougher beast and more meat to the pound. It'll be worth it, Queenie.'

The next morning Millie came to Queenie in her study. ‘The generator's conked out. Sounded like something blew up, Queenie.'

‘Better get Jim to look at it quick smart, Millie.'

‘There's not a bloke around the place. They're all out.'

‘Always the way,' sighed Queenie. ‘Can it wait?'

‘We were pumping water into the house tanks from the creek. The generator smells like it's burning.'

‘I'd better have a look at it.'

An hour later Queenie was still tinkering with the generator motor. She'd burned her hand, oil was smeared on her clothes, face and hands. She worked noisily with a spanner, stripping down parts and cursing aloud.

She didn't hear Warwick approach. At the moment he walked through the door the spanner slipped, and her knuckles slammed against metal, tearing at the skin. She yelped in pain, and kicked furiously at the machinery.

‘Temper, temper,' admonished Warwick.

Queenie stood, rubbing her bleeding hand. Warwick picked up the spanner and looked at her angrily. ‘Why the hell couldn't this have waited? Why do you have to do everything yourself, Queenie? You don't have to keep proving you're better at everything than everyone else — we all know that.'

‘Don't you shout at me!'

‘Why do you try to be so tough all the time?' Warwick stepped forward and shook her by the shoulders. ‘God, you make me mad. Wake
up to yourself, Queenie. Stop fighting the world.'

An expression of such hurt and sadness flashed across Queenie's face that Warwick's anger evaporated. ‘I'm sorry, Queenie. Did you hurt yourself?' He turned over her wrist and impulsively kissed her where she was cut.

Wordlessly Queenie reached out to him and Warwick gently wrapped his arms about her, holding her close to him. He stroked her hair and knew at last he'd broken through to the real Queenie. She lifted her face to his and kissed him willingly.

Queenie told Millie privately that she was marrying Warwick. She made no fuss about the blunt announcement and it seemed to Millie she could have been telling her to stock up the larder. ‘Nothing will change, Millie. This will make things much easier for me. Warwick will continue to help me run Tingulla, and he's invested in Cricklewood so we can get that property operating too.'

‘You going to be happy?'

‘Well, I hope so, Millie,' smiled Queenie.

‘You love him?'

Queenie turned away. ‘What's love, Millie?'

‘I thought you knew that, Queenie.'

‘Maybe I did, once. But I'm choosing companionship, friendship, trust, and a man who'll stick by me and share the load life brings along. I think that's more important.'

Millie reached for the kettle. ‘It's your life, Queenie. Warwick's a good bloke, that's for sure.' There was a small silence as she filled
the kettle. ‘So when do I start cooking for the big day?'

‘We're not having a big Tingulla wedding, Millie. I don't want any fuss. We're just going to have a quiet ceremony.'

‘You're not getting married at Tingulla? Your mumma wouldn't like that. Why, Queenie?'

‘I did that for Sarah. I don't have any family, Colin never contacts me … it wouldn't be the same, Millie. I just couldn't face all that. We're going into the registry office in Brisbane, then somewhere nice for a bit of a honeymoon.'

‘Sounds like you're running away to me.' Millie slammed the kettle onto the Aga hotplate with a loud bang.

Queenie put her arms around her. ‘Oh, come on Millie. I'm being sensible for a change. I thought you'd be pleased.'

Millie hugged the slim young woman with the girlish shiny braids. ‘Queenie — all I want is for you to be happy. You deserve some happiness and I hope Warwick will be good for you.'

Millie bustled about making tea but her heart ached. She knew who Queenie should be marrying, and she wished with all her heart that she could change the way Queenie's life was working out.

Warwick went to Sydney on business, details of which he didn't reveal to Queenie. While there, he broke the news to Colin of their planned wedding. He explained that he and Queenie were also entering a business relationship as well as a personal one. ‘I'm investing in a scheme to breed Brahman bulls
at Cricklewood. Some new blood is needed in the beef industry.'

‘We've always been in wool. Sounds a bit of a gamble,' said Colin non-committally.

‘I just want you to know I have a few plans of my own. I'm not marrying Queenie for Tingulla.'

Colin sipped his beer. ‘Not much, mate,' he thought to himself. But the knot of anger in the pit of his stomach eased. Warwick was not the threat TR would have been. He knew Warwick's weakness and he knew a man like Warwick would never change. His trump card was the fact Queenie didn't know Warwick like he did. He'd bide his time — a leopard doesn't change its spots. Forcing a smile, he put out his hand. ‘Congratulations.'

‘I'm glad you're pleased. I hope you'll always consider Tingulla your home too, Colin.'

‘Oh, I do, I do,' laughed Colin. ‘But for the moment, Sydney is my town.' He chuckled again, a bitter cynical laugh which made Warwick look at him with a puzzled expression. He ordered two more beers. Colin had taken the news better than he thought.

Queenie was surprised, then pleased, at Colin's attitude and impulsively asked him to be a witness at their wedding.

‘I'm not going all the way to Brisbane for a five minute ceremony in a registry office.'

‘I suppose it's not very practical.' Queenie tried to hide her disappointment.

‘What are you doing with yourself?'

‘I get my results soon. Then it's bye-bye
Australia. I'm going abroad with some friends for a while.'

‘How are you paying for that?'

‘Don't tell me you've forgotten your little brother's birthday? I collect some of the money Dad left me next birthday.'

‘Don't fritter it all away, Colin …'

‘Don't you tell me what to do, Queenie. You'll soon have a hubby to boss around, so leave me alone.'

Queenie hung up the phone in exasperation. Colin hadn't changed at all.

‘Colin won't be able to make it to the wedding,' Queenie said that evening. ‘He's right. It's a long way to go for such a brief ceremony. I was going to ask Sarah to come … but I suppose if we're keeping it simple, then let's not tell anyone and just do it.'

‘We'll elope. Just the two of us. Then everyone will say, “how romantic!” Warwick hugged her. ‘Let's do it soon. This waiting to make love to you is driving me crazy.' He nuzzled her hair.

Queenie squirmed out of his arms. ‘Just a little while, Warwick. Be patient.'

TR stretched and breathed a deep sigh. It had been a long and tiring flight but he felt exhilarated. As soon as he stepped out of Kingsford Smith International Terminal he looked up at the Sydney sky — bright clear blue, even in the city. He grinned and headed for the domestic departures to get on a flight to Brisbane.

He had a rough idea of the areas he wanted to look at but decided to drive to Longreach,
talk to stock and station agents and find out which properties were on the market, and who might consider selling if the offer was good enough.

As soon as he parked the dusty rental car in the familiar street in Longreach, TR felt at home. People strolled along at a leisurely pace, always finding time to stop and talk a while.

He was greeted warmly by the plump, balding publican when he checked into the Empire Hotel, his favourite pub. ‘Long time no see, TR. You stayin'? Or going back to Yankee land?'

‘Just staying the night for the moment. Going bush to check out a few things.'

‘Right you are. Room eight. Buy you a beer later.'

TR picked up the keys and his bag and headed upstairs.

He was tired, but he pulled out a map and began studying in detail the areas he planned to look over. He was drawing a ring around several properties when the name Tingulla leapt out at him. It would be so easy to just stop by and see Millie and Jim … Who was he kidding? It was Queenie who drew him to Tingulla. He could see the homestead in his mind and imagined Queenie riding out to meet him on Nareedah. He leaned back in the cane chair staring at the timber-lined wall of his room.

He felt Queenie's presence so strongly. She must be back from overseas. She was back at Tingulla, he felt it.

If he could just see her — confront her once and for all — then maybe she would stop haunting him. Or perhaps he could even convince her they were meant to be together.

He looked at the map again, then folded it up, realising that he had always intended to visit Tingulla. TR ran through the scenario in his mind — he'd see Queenie and simply take her in his arms and they'd never be apart again.

Whistling, he headed for the bathroom. He needed a shower and a good sleep.

Queenie and Warwick decided not to tell anyone they were getting married until they returned from the wedding. They were postponing their honeymoon for a while because Warwick had promised to show Queenie his favourite parts of Europe in the northern spring. They swore Millie to secrecy and made their plans.

Warwick went ahead to Brisbane to make the official arrangements and buy a ring. Queenie drove into Longreach and checked into the Empire Hotel, planning to drive on to Brisbane the next day.

That evening she walked into the dining room to be greeted with a cry of welcome. Sitting at the next table was Dingo McPherson. They hugged each other warmly and Queenie joined him.

‘I was going to give you a yell since I was in the neighbourhood. Thought I'd stop by and see Warwick.'

‘He's in Brisbane.'

‘Well, what luck running into you instead. How are things going, girl?'

‘Dingo, you're just the man I want to talk to … what do you know about Brahman cattle?' Briefly Queenie explained her plans for Cricklewood and found Dingo, as always, a source of information, wisdom and helpful advice.

They chatted and laughed their way through dinner, enjoying each other's company. Dingo delighted in the presence of a beautiful young woman and his respect for Queenie was immense. He understood the deep love she held for her land and admired the way she cared for and planned to develop Tingulla.

To Queenie, Dingo had always been a hero, a living legend she had come to know as a trusted friend. She loved his battered face topped with thick white hair, and his merry blue eyes. What an old charmer, she thought as he paid her compliment after compliment.

‘So … are you pleased I sent you Warwick Redmond? He's working out okay then?'

Queenie grinned at him. ‘You might say that. We're getting married.'

Dingo tipped back in his chair, roaring with laughter. ‘Well, I'll be blowed … that's bloody marvellous. Now listen, Queenie, I swear that was the last thing on my mind when I suggested he go to Tingulla!'

‘Mine, too. But well … it just seemed to work out that way.'

Dingo stuck out his great paw of a hand. ‘I hope you'll both be very happy. When's the big day? I hope I'm invited.'

Queenie looked down. ‘Well, actually … we're not telling anyone. I didn't want a lot of fuss … I'm driving over to Brisbane in the morning. We're just going to be by ourselves. Now don't let the bush telegraph get hold of our news. Keep it to yourself.'

‘I understand. I'll keep it under my hat. Give Warwick my best. Good luck to you both. Now, how about a drink in the bar to celebrate?'

‘No thanks, Dingo. I'm tired and I have a long drive tomorrow.' She kissed him and went upstairs, down the narrow hallway past Room Eight, and turning the key in the door of Room Eleven she closed the door behind her.