Morgan's Law (12 page)

‘Nice to meet you too. Have a good trip back to London,' Kelly said, looking as though she really meant to say,
Don't
let the door hit you on the way out
.

As Sarah drove towards the front gate, she caught sight of Trent on a tractor far across the other side of the paddock. For all his bluster the first day she'd met him, he'd been unsettlingly quiet at lunch.

The dynamics of this family seemed complex and sometimes unpleasant. Sarah could see they masked insecurities and hurts, but she wasn't sure she liked the idea of being related to the Morgans. They certainly weren't going to win any prizes as family of the year.

Ten

Sarah was growing fond of the Royal. She found herself looking forward to hanging around the bar each evening. She loved watching the different groups, most of whom followed the same pattern each evening. Some took up seats at the bar, the same places each time; others took a table, usually the same one each evening; and all of them debated the woes of the world and how to fix them.

And then there were those who sat at the bar alone, drinking quietly and staring into their beer glass with what looked to be the weight of the world on their shoulders. These were the ones Tash would stop and have a quiet word with between serving, giving them a reassuring squeeze on the arm as they said goodnight.

‘I tell ya, it's aliens.'

Sarah looked over at the rowdy table of three men. She didn't know the other two, but the man speaking was Don, from the kitchen. Edith had been right in her assessment of the man—he
was
off the planet, apparently quite literally if tonight's conversation was anything to go by.

‘Aliens!' one of the men scoffed. ‘Don, what have you been smoking?'

‘Laugh all you like—I know what I saw, and I've seen it more than once, too.'

‘Crop circles and strange lights?' the other man asked sceptically.

‘In the sky.' Don nodded sagely. ‘They're coming, but those little green buggers aren't gonna do no experiments on me. No siree. I'm buildin' a bunker.'

‘How's a bunker gonna save ya, Don?'

‘For God's sake, Macca, don't encourage him.'

‘I'm gonna line it with some of that Alfoil stuff. I've heard it blocks their radar. I'll be invisible to them.'

‘You'd need a bloody great roll of aluminium foil to line a room, Don. Where you gonna get that much from?'

Don dropped his voice, although it still managed to carry to Sarah's table. ‘I've been borrowing it from the kitchen. Edith won't miss it.' He sent a nervous glance towards the kitchen door to make sure she wasn't nearby.

‘You wanna hope she doesn't, mate, or you'll have more to worry about than an alien probin' your backside.'

Sarah glanced around, but no one else was paying Don any attention. Obviously talk of aliens and workplace thievery was nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps no one else could hear the conversation over the general noise of the bar.

Tiny nodded at her from across the room, and she waved him over; any conversation had to be better than listening in on Don's nutty view of the world.

‘Haven't seen you around in the mornings lately,' she said as he sat down and settled his glass of beer on the table.

‘Yeah, we've been having a few dramas, but should be all sorted now. I hear you've been busy, though—so you're a Morgan now?'

Sarah's smile slipped a little. ‘I'm not a Morgan.'

Tiny gave a noncommittal grunt and took a sip of his beer. ‘Not what I heard. Apparently you've come to town to stake claim on Burrapine and move in.'

‘Oh please,' Sarah scoffed. ‘What, on my way to world domination? Give me a break.'

‘It's a small place, you're the latest entertainment.'

‘Fantastic.'

‘So what are they like? As bad as everyone reckons?'

‘Depends how bad everyone thinks they are, I suppose,' she said. ‘I don't know really, I wasn't out there long enough to form an opinion.'

‘Don't think I'd trust that Trent fella as far as I could throw him, just quietly.'

Sarah smiled at the gruff warning, but didn't comment. She thought Trent was probably harmless. He seemed to her to be a frustrated young man, trying to get out from under the control of his dominating father. ‘He seems to get on all right with you guys.'

‘What do ya mean?'

‘He's always hanging around the guys you work with. I thought you must have been mates with him?'

‘Nah, not me. I just keep to myself, do my job and go home.' He looked over at the small group of railway men playing darts and drinking on the far side of the room. ‘What about this Buchanan guy you've been hanging around with? What's he like?'

‘Adam? Why? What have you heard about him?' Sarah was a little unsettled by the question. Tiny seemed to be up on all the latest gossip, probably due to the fact he spent a lot of his time quietly sitting and minding his own business.

‘Not much at all.'

‘Well, I guess that's a good thing then,' she surmised, relieved, although she wasn't sure why she should be—it wasn't as though she cared either way.

‘Yeah maybe,' he shrugged. ‘Or maybe he's just good at hiding stuff.'

‘Stuff? Like what? I hate to break it to you, Tiny, but there isn't a great deal of
stuff
happening around here.'

‘It's the quiet ones you gotta watch.'

‘Then I guess that means I should watch you, Mr Chatty,' she said lightly.

Downing the last of his beer, Tiny stood up and held her gaze steadily, causing her smile to waver. ‘You gotta watch
everyone
.'

Sarah watched him walk through the doors and disappointment settled heavily on her shoulders. The whole town was a little nuts. And apparently the longer you stayed here, the nuttier you were likely to be!

Bright and early the next morning Sarah made a decision— she would take the Morgans up on their offer and return Gran to Burrapine, find a nice-looking tree and call it quits. She couldn't hang around this place forever, searching for a tree that might not even exist. Unfortunately, the decision hadn't lifted her spirits—if anything, it had made her feel a little depressed and empty. She'd been so distracted by these irrational feelings that she'd hardly noticed the strange rumbling sound her car was making until a quick glance at her dashboard made her groan aloud. The temperature was steadily rising and the noise was getting louder.

Pulling over to the side of the road, Sarah pushed open her door and gaped at the steam billowing out from beneath the bonnet of the car. No, no, no! This couldn't be happening, not out here.

A frantic look in both directions revealed nothing but an endless ribbon of grey. She flipped open her phone and stifled the urge to stamp her foot in frustration. She was in a dead spot; not even one signal bar was lit up on her mobile.

She looked down and noticed a pool of water leaking from beneath the car. That couldn't be a good sign.

She slid back into the car and cast a dejected glance at the urn strapped into the passenger seat. ‘It looks like you won't be going anywhere today after all, Gran. Are you sure you really want to be left out here?' She stared out over the gently waving crops; the low caw of a crow somewhere nearby and the breeze in the treetops were the only sounds she could hear.

Sarah leaned her head back against the headrest and shut her eyes. When was the last time she'd been forced to just sit and do nothing? From the moment she woke up back in London, she was on the go. She rarely ate sitting down; breakfast was eaten at lightning speed, standing over the kitchen sink. She bought coffee from a cafe on her way to work, usually skipped lunch and spent the day racing from one end of the office to the other. The pace was hectic—and she'd loved it that way. It was exciting. There was always a crisis to manage, something to throw all her careful plans into chaos, and collapsing into an exhausted heap at the end of a very long day always brought a huge surge of satisfaction for a job well done. But sitting here now, with no music, no phone ringing, no one but herself and the sounds of the land all around her, she began to feel a sense of inner peace.

A new sound joined with the gentle wind song she'd been soaking up. The sound of an approaching vehicle grew louder and she got back out of the car to signal to the driver that she needed help.

As the vehicle drew closer she realised with a fatalistic chuckle that it
had
to be him. The only car in the last half-hour and it was Adam Buchanan's.

‘Do you do this on purpose?' were the first words out of his mouth as he leaned out his window, watching her with a crooked grin.

‘Do what on purpose?'

‘Something stupid, just so I have to come along and rescue you.'

‘Stupid!'

‘You got yourself bogged the first time, then picked a fight with Trent Morgan . . . Now you're stranded on the side of the road with what I'm guessing is a busted water pump if the amount of water leaking from under the bonnet is any indication. In which case, you've probably forgotten to check if your radiator had water.'

‘Well, don't feel as though you have to stop. I'm sure someone else will come along eventually.' She folded her arms across her chest and leaned as nonchalantly as she could manage against the side of her car. She told herself the thumping of her heart was only in response to his rudeness. But with his dark sunglasses on, shirtsleeves rolled up and that damn Akubra on, he was making it very hard for her to remember that she was not supposed to find him attractive.

Turning off the engine and climbing out of his ute, he shooed her out of the way and slid into the driver's seat to turn the ignition over. Even to Sarah's unmechanical ear, the pathetic groan the car gave out did
not
sound good.

‘You seized it up.'

‘I didn't do anything. The temperature gauge just suddenly started going through the roof.'

‘When was the last time you checked the water?'

‘What water? Where the hell is the water kept?'

He stared at her as though she'd just grown a second head. ‘You're kidding me, right?'

‘I have it serviced by a mechanic—I only drive the thing when I'm home on holidays.'

‘So when was the last time it was serviced?'

‘I don't know . . .' She tried to think when the last time she'd driven it was—she hadn't been home long enough for Gran's funeral to bother using it, so it had to be the visit before that . . . two and a half years ago! The realisation that maybe it was her fault after all did nothing to ease her frustration.

‘It's well and truly stuffed now. We'll have to get Bruce to come out and tow it back to the workshop. You better hop in and I'll give you a lift into town.'

Great, she thought, why couldn't it have been something easy to fix so she could have finished what she'd set out to do?

‘Hang on a minute, I just need to get something.' She went around to the other side of the car and unclipped the seat belt, placing the urn back into her large bag. She noticed Adam watching her with a slight frown. ‘What's wrong?' she asked.

‘Where were you headed with . . . that?'

‘Burrapine.'

‘Why? Did you find the tree after all?'

‘No. I figured Burrapine was close enough. Believe it or not, I really do have better things to do than look for a needle in a haystack.'

His face became unreadable and he pulled the brim of his hat down a little before giving her a curt nod and turning away to cross the road.

Now what?

She locked the car and followed him to the ute. Sarah took in his set jaw and the hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel. ‘Is something wrong?'

‘Nope.'

So much for that then, she thought, turning and staring out the window at the paddocks flashing by.

‘So that's it?' he asked a few minutes later, breaking the silence and making her jump.

‘That's what?'

‘You were going to scatter the ashes and just leave town?'

She looked at him curiously for a moment. ‘That's what I came out here to do.'

‘What about all that stuff you said—wanting to get some answers and work out what happened to your gran?'

‘It doesn't matter. I've come to the conclusion that we're never going to know what really happened because it was so long ago. It's time I got back to real life.'

Adam pulled the ute off the road, the tyres crunching the loose gravel as he veered to a stop.

‘What are you doing?' Sarah demanded, looking out the back window to see whether he had swerved to miss something.

‘This isn't real enough for you?'

‘This isn't my life.'

The look in his eyes caught her off guard and for a moment neither of them spoke. She'd never seen this look in Giles's eyes, not once in the two years they'd been going out. It wasn't disguised, or hidden behind some cool façade, it was raw desire, need and . . . lust.