Taming the Outback (3 page)

“Damn, damn, damn,” she muttered, slamming her hand down on the steering wheel.

“What the hell just happened?” Josh yelled, his voice high with fright.

“The car has overheated,” Libby answered, knowing full well there was more to it.

“Can you start it again when it cools down?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Josh.” Libby’s heart pounded as she tried to think of what chances they had of being rescued on this dark, deserted road. Trying to sound brave, she turned to him with an attempt at positive thinking. “Let’s wait and see, shall we?”

“Just great,” he snapped in his usual angry tone. “What a welcome to the country, broken down on the side of the road, no houses in sight, and no hope of recovery.”

Holly sat quietly, thumb in her mouth, holding onto Henry with her gaze on her mother.

“Let’s just give it a minute, okay?” Libby pleaded. “If the car won’t start, I’ll call Aaron and ask him to send Tom to get us. We aren’t that far from the farm.”

They sat in silence for fifteen minutes before Libby felt confident the car was cooled down enough to start again. She sat up in her seat and put her hand on the key. Turning it, she held her breath. The clicking sound made her groan, and she quickly turned off the key, slumping back in her seat.

“I think you killed it, Mum,” Josh said.

“Thanks. I kind of figured that much.”

“What do we do now?” Holly’s voice was timid and scared.

Before she could answer, lights blinded her in the rearview mirror. She put her hand up to shield her eyes and got out of the car, telling the kids to stay put.

The four-wheel drive truck pulled up behind her, and the driver’s door opened. She couldn’t see the occupant until he stood right in front of her, towering over her in the dim light. He was dressed in dusty work clothes and jeans, which sat snugly on broad hips. A thick cotton work shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows showed off strong, tanned arms. An old, worn hat was pushed down over short hair, hiding his face as he stood looking down at her.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a deep voice that rolled over her, triggering something familiar deep in her brain.

“No, my car overheated, and now it won’t start.” Libby sighed as she followed him to the front of the vehicle.

He shone a flashlight at the hood and told her to release it. He lifted it and stuck his head beneath. Muttering and cursing drifted back toward her ears. He slammed it back down and turned to her.

“You have a broken radiator hose,” the stranger said. “The top one has completely blown, and the bottom one is on its way out. Don’t you check your car at all? It’s a bloody mess under that hood.”

“My car runs fine normally.” Libby straightened her spine
. So much for country charm; Mr. Personality, you aren’t.
“But thanks for looking at it anyway. I won’t hold you up any longer.”

“Testy little thing, aren’t you?” He pushed his hat back on his head as he came closer to her, his face barely visible in the fading light. “We don’t leave women on the side of the road out in this country.”

“What are you doing here?” Libby asked as she recognized the lawyer who had made such an impression on her at Aaron’s.

“I live here. The question should be what’re
you
doing here?” He sneered before walking away from her.

“I think you know the answer to that question. It’s such a shame our first encounter is enough to upset you.” Libby kicked at the dirt, knowing her softly spoken words had gone unheard.

At least he’s easy on the eyes; pity his attitude isn’t as nice.

_***

Leaning on the back of his dust-covered truck, Nathan pulled his mobile phone from his pocket and punched in a number. He glanced over at Libby pacing back and forth while he waited for someone to pick up.

He’d known she was due soon, but he didn’t expect to meet her out on the highway, broken down.

“Tom, it’s Nathan, I’m out on the side of the road at the highway end, just before the turnoff. I think I have something which belongs to you.” He grimaced as he looked back toward the women watching him. “You had better bring the truck out. Yeah, sure, I’ll wait with her. Don’t be too long. She’s a little bit fiery. Sure, ‘bye.”

“So...” he drawled, walking back to stand before Libby. His heart was thumping, and a thin sheen of sweat was making his face heat up as he let his gaze run over her body from her pert nose to her long, bare legs. He noticed the blush on her cheeks while he scrutinized her under the flashlight beam.
Damn you, Uncle Aaron. Cute and fiery. Too dangerous out here.
If circumstances were different, or even another time and place, he could get attached to this woman—at least, physically. “You’re the city chick who’s going to take Quincy Station into the black, eh? I wonder if you know what you’re taking on, sweetheart?”

“Don’t you ‘sweetheart’ me, mate. It’s Libby. Libby Holland, and yes, I am the
city chick
who’s taking over my great-uncle’s farm.” She glared at him in the torchlight.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

Damn. This sheila is going to be a handful of fun and frustration. I don’t know if I want to deal with her right now. Thanks again, Uncle Aaron.

_***

Libby stood her ground as he glared back at her, one hand on his hip, the other holding the flashlight on her, lips pulled over even, white teeth as his gaze brazenly roamed up and down her body. Libby felt uncomfortable in the crumpled shirt, which had come out of her wrinkled shorts. Her sneakers were the old, comfy ones she wore to mow the lawn, stained and muddy. Her hair had mostly fallen out of the knot she had put on the top of her head where her sunglasses were still perched. Libby tried to hook some of the stray bits behind her ear as he scrutinized her, and she could feel her face flaming in the light of his torch.

“I think you will be the one with the problems, sweetheart, not me,” he drawled, moving closer. He leaned over Libby, his hand resting on the roof of the car when the back door opened, and Holly crawled out with Henry snuggled tightly to her body. She was followed by Josh with his red-heeler pup tucked under his arm.

“Who are you?” Josh demanded, standing beside his mother.

“Nathan Miller.” The man stepped back a couple of paces. “Your neighbor.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Miller.” Libby turned toward him, gritting her teeth and held her hand out.

“I’m not sure the feeling is mutual,” he said. Before she could reply, lights shone on them, and another four-wheel drive pulled up beside Libby’s car. The window rolled down, and an older man put his head out, tipping his hat in acknowledgement.

“Thanks, Nathan. Hi, missus, I’m Tom, your foreman.” The man held his leathery, work-hardened hand out the window for Libby to shake. “Sounds like you need a new car, way Nathan was talking.”

“Nothing I’m sure the local mechanic can’t fix,” she replied through her clenched jaw.

“I have my doubts,” the man called Nathan retorted. Waving to Tom, he walked to his car and left them standing there.

“That was so bloody rude,” Libby said, trying to drag her gaze away from his retreating back. “Surely that’s no way to greet a new neighbor.”

“Nope, that was just Nathan being Nathan.” Tom’s voice was matter-of-fact as he got out of the car to help Libby and the kids. “He’s a bit peeved you’ve come out to take over the station, but he’s a big boy. He’ll just have to get used to not getting his own way all the time.”

Tom helped her pack their bags in the back of the truck and pile the kids and dogs in the back seat. Libby got in the front next to him, and they headed for their new home.

_***

Dogs barked and pulled at their chains as they drove past them over the cattle grid, past the barn and stables toward the huge, low-built homestead. Libby’s spirits lifted at the sight of the old house surrounded by a large bull-nosed veranda complete with French doors running the length of the building A potted plant sat on the steps, the wilted red flowers screaming out for water. Even with the paint peeling and the weeds growing around the steps, Libby fell in love.

Standing on the top step, watching them arrive, was a young boy of Aboriginal appearance. He held onto one of the veranda posts, giving them furtive glances as they climbed out of the vehicle.

“Winton, get your butt down here and grab some bags.” Tom growled at the boy.

Winton scampered down the steps and took some bags from Tom and ran back into the house with them.

“Follow Winton, and we’ll show you the house,” Tom instructed as he nudged Libby, who was standing dazed on the pathway, too awestruck to move. She shook her head, still unable to believe this place was hers...at least for the next two years.

Gathering the kids in front of her, they walked up the steps into their new home. The room she walked into took her breath away. The walls were tongue and groove and rose twelve feet to meet ornate ceilings bordered by delicate scrolled plasterwork. Chandeliers hung low on brass posts, the crystal throwing rainbows around the ceiling. The cobwebs hanging in the light fittings and in the corners of the room did nothing to dampen the beauty of the house. The furniture was old, dark, and heavy. It was worn in patches and just beautiful. Some of it was just about ready for the dump, but the overall effect was perfect...at least Libby thought so.

They followed Winton down the long, wide hallway to the rooms with Tom following them, carrying more bags. Winton stopped at the first door.

“You can have whichever rooms you want since it’s your house.” Tom’s rough voice came from behind her. “There’s plenty to choose from. I just thought I would set out some for now so I could put fresh sheets on the beds for tonight.”

“Thanks,” Libby said. “I really appreciate it. It was very kind of you.”

His eyes looked at her from under his bushy, gray eyebrows.

“How about I put the kettle on and make a cuppa?” he asked. “When you sort yourselves out, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Libby settled the kids in the rooms Tom had readied for them. They were huge, and their doors opened onto the covered veranda. Josh’s room had twin beds, and Holly’s had a single bed the old man had made up with pretty bed linen that would appeal to a young girl. Heavy, dark dressers gave the kids plenty of room for their extra clothes when they finally arrived. Libby was thinking her furniture would look ridiculous in this house, but the kids might want their own stuff to make them feel more comfortable.

She went to the room Tom had chosen for her, and the tears welled up. She knew she was home when she looked at the big four-poster bed with the green and pink rose-covered bedspread. The heavy dressing table with the embroidered love seat drew her. She walked over and sat down, running her fingers over the glossy dark wood of the dresser. She surveyed the large room and felt at ease, as she never had before.

“Thank you, Uncle Thaddius,” she whispered. “Thanks for giving us a chance.”

She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffed loudly. Standing, she walked around the room and looked through the door on the other side of her bed. It was a dressing room, and beyond that, there was a bathroom. And it was all white. The fittings were old-fashioned but far more appealing than the vintage-green set in her old house.

Libby laughed and went in to wash her face. She looked in the mirror at her tired eyes and messy hair. Pulling her hair band off and running her fingers through her locks in place of a brush, she pulled it back onto the top of her head and twisted her hair into a knot, twining the band around it. She took a final glance around the room, pulled herself up straight, and rose in search of the kitchen and that promised drink.

She could hear the whistle of the old steam kettle before she found the kitchen. Following the black-and-white tiles down a hallway that seemed to go forever, Libby walked into the open room. A table sat in the middle of the kitchen, mismatched wooden chairs surrounding it. Tom was sitting at one end, holding his mug between his hands. Libby took a seat as her gaze continued to roam the kitchen.

An old hutch dresser held a blue and white dinner set, which had seen many a family dinner. Some of the plates had minor cracks and chips, but they did not detract from the simple beauty of their pattern. The windows were open to let in the gentle, fresh smelling breeze above the sink, and the back door was wide open. Winton was standing in the doorway, leaning against it as he kept his eyes slightly downcast, sneaking peaks at Libby.

She picked up her cup of tea and sipped gratefully. “Thanks for coming to pick us up. I appreciate it.”

“Not a problem. I’m glad you made it almost okay.” A hint of a smile was on his lips. “Aaron told you all about the place then?”

“Kind of, I guess. But I suppose it would be best coming from you.”

“I’ve been with your granddaddy and his brother since I could walk, just about,” he started, smiling fully at her. “Know all there is to know about the place, that’s for sure. Been hard these last few years, trying to keep the place going with just me and Winton. Boy should be in school, but your uncle was too tight to hire any men, so we just had to make do.”