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‘How do you know I’m not a flirtatious female?’ she asked smartly.

'I trust my own judgment implicitly in these matters.’ He was laughing again.

‘And what does that mean?’

‘Well, you’re in love, engaged to, and planning to marry John. That’s a big factor. You haven’t tried to flirt with me, that’s an even bigger factor. I find you a very cool number indeed, Miss Serenity James.’

‘You’re just not my type,’ Serenity informed him casually.

‘You don’t have to flatter me just to get the job. I think my young male staff will be safe with you . . .’

‘What an insult!’ She was indignant. ‘Safe indeed. How would you know? Just because you feel you are the quintessence of eligibility, and I find you Sacking in appeal, you think I would not find anyone else attractive. There’s no logic in that assumption.’

‘I’ll risk it,’ he assured her cheerfully, not at all put out.

For the past hour Serenity had been trying to find a reason for her attitude towards him. If she could sort it out then maybe she could stay for a few weeks. When she thought of Sarah Tarrant’s house she longed to stay; when she thought of riding this country most days, she longed to stay; and when she thought about Hudson Grey, she wanted to leave immediately.

How ridiculous! She shouldn’t be frightened of him. Well, she wasn’t exactly frightened, nervous perhaps? She had virtually no experience of men, and something told her that he was dangerous. But she couldn’t see how he could be any threat to her. He thought she was engaged, getting married in six weeks even, and he said he wouldn’t make a pass at her. He said that he didn’t want complications in his life, that he was planning to marry soon himself. So why was she being such a ninny- hammer?

She had a God-given chance to stay here and get to meet all the people of the district. It was more than she had dreamed of originally, and she was dithering.

Because of Hudson Grey!
That’s why she was angry.
Because she didn’t trust him . . . and worse than that, she didn’t trust herself. When he was arrogant and conceited it was a breeze to ignore him or take him down a peg or two, but when he had spoken about his mother and father and showed his open affection for them, then he was dangerous. And when he talked about Sarah Tarrant she saw beyond the smooth sophisticated surface to someone sensitive, and as vulnerable to hurt as she was.

She didn’t want to see that side of him. She didn’t want to know him any better than she did at this moment. If she ever saw inside the pain and bitterness that was locked within him because of his girl’s death, would she be able to walk away? Would she have the sense to leave well enough alone? Would she have the strength not to offer solicitude or comfort, the way her mother had helped, loved and healed people from hidden scars?

She glanced up at him as they rode and thought how little he knew about what appealed to some women. It wasn’t his good looks, his essential masculinity, or his money, but the desire to comfort and cherish the hurt child in him that was her weakness.

‘There you go.’ He flung his hand out across the wilderness of riverbed. ‘The horses.’

She gazed in that direction but all she saw was the cloud of a dust storm. Then her eyes widened as she saw the first horses plunge through the silver stream, the water spraying about them like jewels glinting in the sunlight. They were just as she had imagined them . . . quite magnificent.

‘Will they come closer?’ she asked breathlessly.

‘They’re full of curiosity—they’ll come and give you the once over.’

And they did, dancing and prancing, cavorting and wheeling, their manes and tails streaming out from their glorious bodies, until they propped suddenly in a circle about the riders. Greys, whites, blacks, skewbalds and bays, their coats shining with good health, necks arched and flaring nostrils, eyes large and curious, they stood with flanks heaving for almost a full minute, then with the precision of a trained horse troupe wheeled and raced away and were lost from sight.

Serenity sat staring after them, half hoping that they would return. She was aware that Hudson was speaking to her, but in her ears still was the thunder of the horses’ hooves on the shingle.

'I’m so sorry. That was fantastic.’ She took a deep breath. ‘What were you saying?’

‘Looking at your face, I don’t have to raise my price to keep you here. Which one did you fancy?’

‘The chocolate-brown one with the creamy mane and tail,’ Serenity said without hesitation. ‘What a dream of a horse . . . and fast. Did you see him go, just like lightning?’

Hudson laughed, ‘Somehow I thought you’d choose him, he’s my favourite, too.’

‘You’re going too fast for me. I haven’t said I’ll stay. I don’t think it’s wise for me to stay here,’ she protested nervously.

‘Name your objections. I think it’s a great idea.’ Serenity tipped her hat back from her face, ‘Look, you don’t know the first thing about me. All your judgments are superficial. You don’t know if I’d fit in here.’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘You don’t even know if I can cook.’

‘I’ll bet even money that you’re a fantastic cook.’

‘I can’t cook scones and that’s a fact,’ she said aggressively.

‘Have you any other personality defects which you would care to mention at this time?’

‘No, I have not.’ She glared at him in exasperation.

‘Then it’s a deal. You’ve got six weeks in hand, I need a bit of breathing space. Forget about the scones, I’ve got enough to keep me a year even if I ate them for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I’ll get Cam to run the chocolate gelding in tomorrow night. What are you going to call him? Milo?’

‘Why Milo?’

‘Well, that’s what he makes me think of, hot and sweet and richly chocolate-brown with a large dab of whipped cream floating on the top.’

‘Yes, I’d call him Milo,’ she smiled, delighted with the choice. Then she frowned. ‘That’s another thing. I wouldn’t be here long enough for him to be broken in.’

‘You’ll be riding him two weeks from now. I know what’s the matter with you, I’ve starved you to death. Seeing as we’re on this side of the river, we’ll ride up to the Homestead and grab a bite. It must be at least two o’clock. Come on.’

She nudged Misty into a canter following Hudson along a beaten cattle trail among low scrub and frondlike spicy-scented
manuka
laden with tiny delicate flowers. Then the ground became more open and the trees bigger, large limbed
totara
and
rimu
trees, wineberry and
konini,
spreading broadleaf and
kowhai.

Hudson waited, holding a gate open for her, ‘Not far now. Five minutes and I’ll have the kettle on.’

Serenity rode through, then waited as Rajah chested the gate back into position and Hudson slipped the bar through. ‘My father nearly shot a cattle thief at this very gate years ago.’

Serenity looked at him doubtfully.

‘The honest truth. Wait till Dad comes home, he’ll tell you stories about this place before it became civilised that will make your hair curl. You’ll hear the nostalgia in his voice as he talks about the mustering, long-horned cattle then, not a fence from one end of the valley to the other, and you had to be tough to hold your land and your cattle. Deer were everywhere. Even when I was a kid you just went out of an evening and shot one for the larder whenever you needed one, It’s different now.’

‘You sound a bit nostalgic yourself,’ Serenity commented.

He laughed. ‘I suppose I do. But I can remember seeing a herd of about a hundred crossing the flats one evening and that’s a sight never to be forgotten. Or standing in the morning mist in May down the Seven Hundred and hearing half a dozen stags in full roar within a few feet of you, that’s something else again.’

As they splashed through another clear mountain stream, its banks lined with flax and native
toi toi,
she thought of her mother who had probably loved this country just as much as Hudson and his father did, yet had lived in exile for twenty years. It must have cost her dearly never to be able to come back and visit it.

As they topped the rise by the cattle yards, she saw spread out before her another wide green fertile valley even more beautiful than the one she’d seen this morning across the lake. They cantered through paddocks of sheep and cattle towards a brick homestead set attractively on a terrace overlooking the flats.

As they hitched the horses to the neat white fence, Serenity was surprised to find the back entrance was a simple pleasing hacienda style, the small patch of lawn enclosed by a long low verandah along its length on the house side and bounded by small cabins and the length of the double garage on the other two. Flowers and shrubs and climbing vines softened the almost austere lines.

Serenity turned to Hudson as he flung open the gate. The house looked so big riding towards it and . . .’

Hudson grinned, That’s my father again. He loved the original pioneer home when he arrived here, the one he brought mother to as a young bride, so much so that when they decided to modernise he kept the same simple outline and blended in the extra rooms in a series of split level units. He has such a feeling for the past that he kept the best it had to offer. He drove the builder mad but when I show you around you'll see he achieved exactly what he set out to do. ’

‘I love it.’ Then an appalling thought struck her. Was Hudson’s father the man in the photograph? Was Hudson her half-brother? Was it feasible? They were neighbours, only the river between them.

Hudson had reached the door and turned to find her still standing halfway along the path. ‘What’s the matter? Come on in.’

She stood where she was. ‘Hudson, describe your father to me.’

He gave her a puzzled look, then seeing her face came striding back. Laughing down at her he said, ‘That’s not possible in the short time we have at our disposal. He’s a real character, unique, an original. The mould was broken after he was made.’

‘I don’t mean his character or personality. Physically, what does he look like?’

‘Oh, physically, that’s easy. He’s well-built, keeps himself in shape, he’s not as tall as I am, more your height. He’s a good-looking fellow, much like myself, of course, dark brown hair, going silver. I’ll show you some photos when we get inside.’

Her relief was tremendous and she gave him a sparkling-eyed smile. ‘That’s marvellous.’

‘Hey! You didn’t think it was Dad. . . that patient you nursed?’

‘No, it wasn’t him, that’s a fact.’

‘I’ll bet it wasn’t. You’d never forget him if you’d nursed him. I’ll bet even money that he’d be the most difficult patient you ever tried to strap into a bed. The experience would be indelibly printed on your mind forever.’

‘I thought the way you talked about him you thought he was perfect.’

‘Far from it,’ he gave a chuckle. ‘I wish you could meet him. You’d enjoy him, most people do. He may not be big in height, but in every other way he’s big; in his thinking, in his generosity, in his loyalty. He’s a man with ideals and a vision of the future. Not one of those flabby idealists who only dream. He makes his come true which often brings him into conflict with more sedate minds, but he’s well able to take care of himself.’

She followed him into the kitchen.

‘Take a chair. I’ll see if Naomi and Bill are about. They’re friends of Dad’s who are keeping the house warm for them.’

She heard him calling through the house and walked towards the large picture windows which gave a grand view of the farm. This house had certain similarities with the one over the river, yet there was a subtle difference, a maturity, a harmony of good taste and elegance. Still not satisfied that she had pinpointed the area of variance she looked about her, then smiled. It was the woman’s touch that was here and not there, the imprint of his mother’s personality. It gave the place a loving atmosphere.

‘Serenity James, meet Naomi Fairmont. Bill is away up the river fishing. It’s his passion.’

The small dark-haired lady welcomed Serenity. ‘Hudson tells me you’re going to housekeep for him for a while. I am pleased; baching is no fun. I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself, but feel free to ring me any time you need advice, support or just a natter. I’ll put lunch on. Oh, Hudson, good boy, you’ve put the kettle on. And there’s Bill coming by the woolshed, excellent timing.’

Serenity flicked a reproving glance at Hudson, but he ignored it, and went on talking to Naomi. She had
not
said she was staying and he was wrong to announce it as official.

After a good lunch of cold meat, crisp fresh lettuce and tomatoes, they relaxed over a second cup of coffee.

‘How long have you known my father. Bill?’ Hudson asked.

‘You know that, Hudson, nearly forty years—well, more really. We trained together as pilots during the war. I’ve been coming here regularly since then. Why?’

‘And you’ve known him for the same length of time, Naomi. Serenity here asked me to describe him, just before we came in. Now, how would you answer that question? A short answer, please.’ He smiled at them encouragingly.

‘Impossible, that’s how your mother describes him,’ Naomi said laughing.

Bill drew on his pipe, ‘That’s a hard question. He’s an incredible chap, very versatile, but basically I would describe him as a man of principle.’

Hudson nodded, seemingly satisfied. ‘And Mother?’ Naomi spoke first, ‘Charming.’

Bill gave it some thought, ‘A better word would be gracious, she is a gracious hostess. I’ve seen her through the years, entertaining politicians, businessmen, foreign diplomats, local dignitaries, farmers, contractors and shearers, hunters and farmhands, and her manner never alters. She offers each and every one the same standard of consideration, courtesy and tolerance. An excellent woman.’

‘There you go, Serenity, I offer them as my credentials.’

‘Many fine families produce a black sheep. I’ll decide for myself what good qualities, if any, are in you.’