The Outback Bridal Rescue (2 page)

Not someone to buck, Johnny thought, though size didn’t strike fear in him anymore. He’d grown big himself. Bigger than most boys at sixteen. It made other guys think twice about picking a fight with him. Not that he ever actively invited one, and wouldn’t here, either. A friendly face and manner always served him best.

‘John Wayne rides again,’ Mitch Tyler mocked, making light of the big man waiting for them, yet his body language yel ed tension.

‘No horse,’ Johnny tossed at him with a grin, wanting Mitch to relax, make it easier for al of them.

It won a smile. A bit twisted but a smile nonetheless. It gave Johnny some hope that Mitch might loosen up, given time and if they were treated reasonably wel here.

He caught Ric Donato looking curiously at him and wondered what he was thinking. Dismissing him as harmless? No threat? Possibly good company? What did he see?

Johnny tried envisaging himself objectively—a hunky guy who wouldn’t be out of place in the front row of a footbal team, streaky brown hair that invariably flopped over his forehead because of a cowlick near his right temple, eyes that had a mix of green and brown in them and a twinkle of good humour that Johnny had assiduously cultivated, a mouth ful of good white teeth which certainly helped to make a smile infectious.

Even so, he was no competition for Ric Donato in the good looks department. Girls probably fel al over him.

Which was what had got him into trouble, stealing a Porsche to show off to some rich chick. Johnny had no time for girls yet. He just wanted to play his own music, get into a band, go on the road.

The plane came to a halt.

The cop told them to get their duffle bags from under the back seats. A few minutes later he was leading them out to a way of life which was far, far removed from anything the three of them had known before.

The initial introduction was ominous, striking bad chords in Johnny.

‘Here are your boys, Maguire. Straight off the city streets for you to whip into shape.’

The big old man—and he sure was big close up—gave the cop a steely look. ‘That’s not how we do things out here.’ The words were softly spoken but they carried a confident authority that scorned any need for abusive tactics.

He nodded to the three of them, offering a measure of respect. ‘I’m Patrick Maguire. Welcome to Gundamurra. In the Aboriginal language, that means “Good day.” I hope you wil al eventual y feel it was a good day when you first set foot on my place.’

Johnny’s bad feelings simmered down. It was okay.

Patrick Maguire’s little speech had a welcoming ring to it, no punishment intended. Nevertheless, a strong sense of caution had Johnny intently watching the big man’s approach to Mitch, the first in line.

‘And you are…?’ The massive hand he held out looked suspiciously like a bone-cruncher.

‘Mitch Tyler,’ came the slightly bel igerent reply. Mitch met the hand with his own in a kind of defiant chal enge.

‘Good to meet you, Mitch.’

A normal handshake, no attempt to dominate.

Johnny’s smile was designed to disarm but it had more than a touch of relief in it as he quickly offered his hand in greeting, being next in line. ‘Johnny El is. Good to meet you, Mr Maguire.’

The steely-grey gaze returned a weighing look that made Johnny feel he was being measured in terms far different to what he was used to. His stomach contracted nervously as the warm handclasp seemed to get right under his skin, seeking al he kept hidden.

His determinedly fixed smile evoked only a hint of amusement in the grey eyes, causing an unaccustomed sense of confusion in Johnny as Patrick Maguire final y released his hand and moved on to Ric who introduced himself far more cool y, not giving anything away.

‘Ready to go?’ the old man asked him.

‘Yeah. I’m ready.’ Aggression in this reply.

Ready to take on the whole damned world if Ric had to, Johnny interpreted, and wondered if Patrick Maguire was looking for that kind of spirit. Had he himself failed some test by appearing too easygoing?

Didn’t matter.

Al he had to do was ride through the six months here with the least amount of trouble. He might not be a fighter like Ric and Mitch but he knew how to survive, and head-on clashes weren’t his style. Reading the lay of the land, adjusting to it, accommodating it…that was the way to go for Johnny El is.

Yet as Patrick Maguire stood back and cast his gaze along the three of them, taking in his new recruits for outback tuition, he nodded, as though approving each one.

Johnny’s stomach relaxed, feeling good vibes coming from the man. Somehow he had passed the test, whatever it was. He was accepted.

So Gundamurra shouldn’t be a bad place to be. The old man had said it meant “good day.” Johnny decided he could do with a lot of good days. No worries. No stress. No angling for some step that would help him get where he wanted to go in the music world. He could let al that wait for six months, settle in and enjoy the wide open spaces.

Yeah…he was ready for this.

Probably more so than Ric or Mitch.

Though he hoped the three of them could establish and maintain friendly relations while they were here.

It was beyond Johnny El is’s imagination that a friendship would evolve that would last the rest of their lives, intertwining through al that was important to them…being there for each other in times of need, understanding where they were coming from and why.

The bond of Gundamurra was about to be forged.

And at the heart of it was Patrick Maguire, the man who would become the father they’d never known, a man who listened to the people they were, learning their individual strengths, guiding them towards paths that could lead towards successful futures, encouraging them to fly as only they could…and always, always, welcoming them home.

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Twenty-two years later…

JOHNNY ELLIS
rode into the old western town that had been built for the movie. Behind him was the Arizona desert. In front of him was the film crew, cameras rol ing. It was al he could do to keep a straight face, in keeping with the character he was playing—cowboy on a mission.

An inner grin was twitching at the corners of his mouth.

On the country and western music scene, he’d made it to the top, sel ing umpteen platinum albums of his songs, but this was Johnny’s first movie and he was having fun, doing something beyond even his wildest dreams.

Having learnt to ride at Gundamurra, he was a natural on a horse, and being big and tal —there weren’t many movie stars with his physique—had snagged him the part. Of course, he did have a box-office name, too, a point his agent had made much of. Whatever…he was here doing it, and it sure tickled him to think of himself as fol owing in John Wayne’s footsteps.

Mitch and Ric had laughed about it, too.

But he had to be dead serious now. The cameras were zeroing in to do close-ups. Time to dismount, tie his reins to the rail, walk into the saloon, cowboy on a mission. This was the last take of the day, the light was right for it, and Johnny didn’t want to mess it up. He was a professional performer, used to being onstage, and getting it right was second nature to him.

He didn’t miss a step. The saloon doors swung shut behind him and the director yel ed, ‘Cut!’ Johnny al owed himself a grin as he came back out to the street, confident there’d be no need to do this scene again. The grin grew wider when he spotted Ric Donato lurking behind the camera crew.

His old friend had made the time to come!

Johnny had invited him to the film set, the moment Ric had cal ed to say he was in L.A., checking on that branch of his worldwide photographic business. It was a pity Lara and the kids weren’t with him. Ric’s wife was one lovely lady and their children had the trick of melting Johnny’s heart, they were just so endearing. Little Patrick, who’d turned three just before last Christmas, would have loved a ride in the camera crane.

‘Great to see you, Ric!’ He greeted his old friend with immense pleasure. ‘Want to be introduced around?’

‘No.’

The quick and sober reply took Johnny aback. He instantly regrouped, seeing that Ric didn’t look too good. In fact, he looked downright pained, something bad eating at him. No happy flash in his usual y bril iant dark eyes. They were dul , sick.

‘Could we go to your trailer, Johnny? Have some privacy?’

‘Sure.’

He gestured the way and they walked side by side, not touching. Any other time Johnny would have thrown an arm around Ric’s shoulders, hugging his pleasure in his friend’s company, but that didn’t feel right, not with Ric so uptight and closed into himself. Johnny’s stomach started churning.

It always did when he sensed something bad coming.

He couldn’t wait until they reached his trailer.

‘What is it, Ric? Tel me!’ he demanded grimly.

A deep, pent-up breath was expel ed. ‘I had a cal from Mitch,’ he stated flatly. ‘Megan cal ed him.’

‘Megan Maguire?’

A vivid image of Patrick Maguire’s youngest daughter instantly flew into Johnny’s mind—a wild bunch of red curls, freckled face, eyes the grey of stormy clouds, always projecting fierce independence, spurning his every offer of help with work on the station, defying him to imply in any way that she wasn’t fit and able to run Gundamurra just as wel as her father did.

Which was probably true. She’d worked towards it, not wanting to do anything else with her life. Johnny knew he’d never made any criticism of that choice. He actual y admired her very capable handling of the work she did.

What he didn’t understand was why she couldn’t just ride along with his company whenever he visited, make him as welcome as her father did. She invariably shunned him as much as possible and when she couldn’t, her scorn of
his
chosen career invariably slipped out.

Yet she’d liked listening to him play his guitar when she was a kid, hanging on his every word when he sang. Why she’d grown up into such a hard, judge-mental woman he didn’t know, but be damned if he’d let her attitude towards him keep him away from Gundamurra. Patrick was like a father to him. Best father any guy could have.

‘Patrick…’ He felt it in his gut. ‘Something’s happened to Patrick.’

Another hissed breath from Ric, then… ‘He’s dead, Johnny.’

Shock slammed into his heart. His feet stopped walking.

He shook his head, refusing to believe it. Denial gravel ed from his throat as it started choking up. ‘No…no…’

‘Two nights ago,’ Ric said in a tone that made the fact unequivocal, and he went on, quietly hammering home the intolerable truth. ‘He died in his bed. His heart gave out.

No-one knew until the next morning. Megan found him.

Nothing could be done, Johnny. He was gone.’

Gone…

Leaving a huge black hole—a bottomless pit that Johnny kept tumbling down. He was barely aware of Ric’s hand gripping his elbow, steering him. His feet moved automatical y. He saw nothing. It wasn’t until Ric thrust a glass of whisky into his hand that he realised he was sitting on the couch in the mobile home provided by the movie company.

‘It’s a hel of a blow. For al of us, Johnny.’

He nodded. Couldn’t speak. Forced a swal ow of whisky down his throat.

‘I’ve booked flights to Australia for both of us. I guess you’l need to clear that with your people here. Might mean a delay in their schedule if they can’t shoot around your absence.’

The movie…meaningless now.

The deep ache of loss consumed him. Ric had Lara and their children. Mitch had Kathryn, with a baby on the way.

They’d both made homes of their own. For Johnny, Gundamurra and Patrick was home, and with Patrick gone…it was like having the roots of his life torn out of him.

There was no longer any reason for him to go back.

Megan wouldn’t want him there.

But he had to go back this one last time…say goodbye to the man who’d always treated him as a son, even though he was no blood relation. Megan couldn’t begrudge him that. Ric and Mitch would be there with him. Al three of them, remembering what Patrick had given them…the big heart of the man…

Why had it stopped?

He looked up at Ric, his inner anguish bursting into speech. ‘He was only in his seventies.’

‘Seventy-four,’ came the quiet confirmation.

‘He was so strong. He should have lived to a hundred, at least.’

‘I guess we al thought that, Johnny.’

‘It’s only been three months since Christmas. He looked wel then. Same as ever.’

Ric shook his head. ‘There were no warning signs.

Maybe the stress of the drought, having to kil so many sheep, lay off staff…’

‘I offered help. Whatever was needed to tide them over, see them through the drought however long it went on. You know I’ve got money to burn, Ric.’

Ric’s mouth twisted into an ironic grimace. ‘I made the same offer. Most likely Mitch did, too.’

‘He helped us, dammit! Why couldn’t he let us help him?’

Johnny’s hands clenched. ‘I bet it was Megan who wouldn’t take what we offered. Too much damned pride. And Patrick wouldn’t go against her.’

‘Don’t blame Megan, Johnny. She’s got enough to carry without a load of guilt over her father’s death. I’d deal kindly with her if I were you. Very kindly. Patrick would want you to.’

‘Yes, I know, I know…’ He unclenched his hands, opening them in a helpless gesture. ‘I’l miss him.’

Ric nodded, looked away, but not before Johnny caught the sheen of moisture glittering in his dark eyes. It was a heart-twisting reminder that Patrick had been like a father to al three of them, not just him. Ric was hurting, too. And Mitch…

Mitch was probably already at Gundamurra, giving whatever support was needed, making the legal business of death as easy as he could. Being a top-line lawyer, he’d do that for Patrick’s daughters. There wasn’t just Megan to consider, but Jessie and Emily, as wel . They’d al be in shock. Ric was right. Patrick would expect
his boys
to deal kindly with them.

‘We don’t know why he died,’ Ric said brusquely.

‘Maybe it was just…his time to go. No point in railing against it, Johnny. We’ve got to get moving to make the flights home. Are you okay to do whatever you’ve got to do before we leave?’