Snowy Mountains Cattleman, page 12
Without warning, two small dark shapes burst out of an overgrown garden bed near the side of the mansion. She blinked. Her four-legged trespassers weren’t sheep at all—they were goats. By their size they didn’t look very old. When they saw her and swerved to their right, she had visions of them running through the front gate that she’d left open for Rowan.
She turned to half run towards the entryway. If the goats did bolt down the driveway they’d end up on the busy road. Her steps slowed. Except the front gate was somehow shut and there was something white attached to the top. She glanced behind her but there was no sign of the goats or Bundy.
A breeze lifted what she could now see was a piece of paper taped to the steel. She removed the note and with her back against the wind attempted to decipher the scrawled writing.
Heard you were looking for goats. You can have these. I’ve too many.
Busy trying to work out what the next line said, she didn’t hear Rowan’s ute behind her until he was almost at the gate. She swung around, painfully conscious of what she was wearing and that her hair was a tangled mess.
No sooner had Rowan’s ute stopped than he was out of the driver’s seat. There was no sign of his usual easygoing charm, instead the fixed intensity of his stare matched the alert readiness of his stride. Just like on the day they’d met she sensed the power and restless energy that he carefully kept under wraps. Rowan was a man who would act quickly, love deeply and not hold any part of himself back.
‘Grace, what’s wrong?’
Even his voice sounded different, less a slow drawl and more a gravelly rasp that strummed across her senses.
She rubbed at the goosebumps on her bare arms, hoping he’d think she was cold. ‘Nothing’s wrong … it’s just … this.’
She handed him the piece of paper.
While he read, she smoothed what she could of her windblown hair. She needn’t have worried as Rowan seemed oblivious to the state she was in.
He passed her the note and scanned the gardens around the old mansion. ‘Frank here yet?’
‘No, why? He’s never here this early.’
Rowan didn’t answer as he unlatched the gate. ‘How many are there? I take it Bundy’s with them?’
‘Two.’
Rowan looked at her, except his gaze didn’t hold hers for very long. ‘Hop in if you like.’
She nodded. It wasn’t a long walk back but the goats were frightened and needed help. She waited until Rowan had driven through before closing the gate and climbing into his ute. To stop the passenger seat from beeping she slipped on her seatbelt.
Even though Rowan gave her a grin, there was something about his eyes that suggested he wasn’t as relaxed as he appeared. They sat in silence as Rowan sped along the driveway.
‘Okay,’ he said as he parked near her car. ‘I’ll see what we’re dealing with and then head into town for yards and hay. Have you a bucket for water?’
‘I do.’ Her hand rested on the seatbelt clip as she looked at him. ‘Why would people dump goats here?’
‘For lots of reasons. It would be a good idea to call Trent to look them over. He might even recognise them.’
‘I’ll call him now.’
She’d spoken to the personable vet about some goats only yesterday after Mabel, who was his flatmate, had passed on his number. Her parents had been right about news travelling fast in small towns.
‘I’m going to need more hay,’ Rowan said, his tone wry as he looked past her out the side window.
She turned to see what he was looking at. Not only had Frank arrived with Bundy on the back of the gator but there were now three small black and brown goats charging around her garden.
Disbelief held her still before she followed Rowan out of the ute. Frank gave them a smile as they approached.
‘Quite the surprise seeing you here,’ Rowan said to the older man.
‘It is, isn’t it. Sorry I’m late but it wasn’t immediately obvious that you had visitors.’
Grace looked between the two of them as their gazes locked, unsure of what was going on. Frank’s words made sense. No doubt he’d heard the goats like he had the possums. On a quiet morning sound would carry.
Rowan handed Frank the note the goats’ owners had left. ‘This was on the front gate.’
‘That’s … unexpected.’
‘Is it?’
Again something passed between Rowan and Frank that she didn’t understand.
‘What does that last line say?’ she asked as a distraction. It wasn’t animosity between the two men, more like a clash of stubborn wills.
Frank angled the white paper. ‘It says I know you’ll give them a good home.’
Grace looked off into the distance, her heart melting. She had no idea what she was in for, she didn’t know anything about goats, but she’d been entrusted with their care by someone who had faith in her. It was a little thing but it made her feel as though she had been given a special purpose.
A bleat from somewhere behind the mansion pulled her focus back to Frank and Rowan.
‘Frank, can you and Bundy please try to make sure they don’t escape through the broken fence, and Rowan, that would be much appreciated if you could pick up some yards and hay. I’ll find a bucket and call Trent.’
Not waiting for an answer, she headed towards her cottage, adding to get dressed to her list.
When she returned outside in what had become her usual everyday clothes—jeans, a cotton half-button shirt and a country cap the assistant in the rural store had given her—there was no sign of either Frank or the goats. It felt right to no longer be wearing dark colours. Her parents, her mother in particular, would have liked her new colourful work shirts.
In her hands she carried a container filled with blueberry muffins that she’d cooked last night for Frank. It also felt good doing something to brighten his day. As much as he hid his loneliness, she knew it existed. He had no children or living siblings and since his wife died had been on his own.
The chug of the gator engine had her head around to the front of the mansion. There she saw the three goats, their heads down eating, with Frank and Bundy keeping a close watch nearby.
She climbed into the spare gator seat. Bundy and Frank enjoyed the muffins while they waited for Rowan and Trent to arrive. The local vet had offered to call in on his way to the clinic to check the goats over.
She wasn’t sure what made her glance sideways, maybe it was Bundy’s sudden interest in something behind her, but when she did she stared straight into two amber eyes set below a pair of curving horns. Unlike the other three goats, this large and very fat one showed no nervousness at all. Instead she waddled out from the hedge that had hidden her, her attention on the remaining muffin Grace held.
Frank laughed quietly. ‘This just keeps getting better. Wait until Rowan sees this one.’
Grace didn’t reply, sitting intensely still as the goat came up to her. She broke off a tiny piece of muffin and the goat nibbled it from off her palm. When the goat was done she looked for more.
Grace tentatively lifted her hand and when the goat didn’t move she scratched its nose. The goat leaned in closer and Grace couldn’t help but smile as she rubbed the goat’s neck.
‘You’re kidding,’ Rowan said from somewhere on the side veranda. She looked up to see him and another tall man who had to be Trent.
Grace passed Frank the last muffin and, careful not to frighten the goat, slipped out of the seat. The goat accompanied her over to the veranda and when Grace reached the steps, stopped beside her.
‘I think you’ve made a friend,’ Trent said with a warm smile.
The vet in person was as approachable and friendly as she’d found him over the phone. ‘Thanks so much for coming out on such short notice.’
‘No worries.’ Trent walked down the steps. He patted the goat before checking her over. ‘I’ve never seen her or her friends before but her feet have been trimmed and her gums are a good colour so she’s been wormed. She’s come from a decent home.’
Grace only half heard Trent’s words. Rowan had given her an indecipherable look before he’d left.
‘Okay, I’m all done with this one,’ Trent said. ‘How about you head round to the old stables where Rowan has set up the portable yards. I’m sure your new friend will follow. Bundy and I will take care of the rest.’
Grace set off and the nanny goat didn’t hesitate to walk behind her. Trent whistled to Bundy who ran to his side. Grace and the larger goat had just made it to the yards when the other three trotted around the mansion corner to join them. She led the small herd inside the circular pen and Rowan closed the gate.
When she went to exit she made the mistake of looking at Rowan as he held the narrow gate open for her. She was so close she could smell his sun-dried cotton and cedar scent, so close it would only take a lift of her hand to touch the cleft in his stubbled chin. She dipped her head, hoping that the brim of her cap concealed her expression. She still hadn’t mastered staying composed whenever near him. As she stepped away to allow Trent to enter the yard, she made a point of standing as far away from Rowan as possible.
Once the younger goats had been given a clean bill of health and they all had hay and water, Grace found herself alone with her new pets. When she had more time she’d call Aubrey to tell her about her latest additions. While the two wethers remained skittish, the smaller doe was happy to stand beside the nanny goat while Grace patted her.
She scratched what she now knew was the soon-to-be mother’s favourite spot on her nose. ‘I have to go to town but Rowan and Bundy will look after you.’
With a last look at the goats, she went inside to grab her tote bag and car keys. By the time she had parked out the front of the historic library building she had names for the wethers. She’d call them Chester and Windsor after two English towns she remembered visiting as a child.
On the way to the local studies room at the back of the library where Kathy worked, Grace made a detour via the shelves that contained titles on raising goats.
Kathy gave her a smile as she opened the local studies room door and saw the pile of books in Grace’s arms. ‘Don’t tell me you found some goats after all?’
‘It’s more like they found me.’
Grace placed the books on the floor beside a table on which a series of black-and-white photographs of Crookwell Park had been laid out. Even though she’d only briefly met Kathy in passing when Clancy and Brenna had taken her shopping, she felt at ease with the older woman. She didn’t try to hide her interest or excitement as she bent to take a closer look at a photograph that featured a side view of the mansion. As well as white ducks she could see another animal.
‘Is that a goat?’
‘It is …’ Kathy motioned at her to take a seat. ‘There’s another one here.’
By the time Kathy had gone through the rest of the photographs, they’d found two more goats, plus a cat, dog and pony. Grace scanned the images on her phone. She had a lot of catching up to do animal-wise if she was to turn Crookwell Park into the home it once was. If possible she’d also replicate as much of the garden as she could. She ignored the whispers that reminded her she had no idea where she’d be once summer ended.
Kathy pointed to the grainy image of a leafy pergola that looked to be draped in a similar climber to what covered it now. ‘This grapevine was apparently struck from a cutting brought from Wales and has to be over a century old.’
Grace took a photo of the vine, humbled by the tenacity of the place that she now was the custodian of. Her garden-loving mother would have been thrilled to know such a detail.
After they’d discussed the pictures of the various rooms, one of which was the ballroom with a stunning chandelier, Kathy sat back in her chair. ‘As you can see, nothing in these photographs suggests there could be a hidden library door, let alone an apartment anywhere.’
Kathy reached for a nearby folder to take out the top piece of paper. ‘I’ve also delved into the Russell family tree and there’s no woman with a first or middle name of Melly, or even one that could have been abbreviated. There was a Millicent and a Mildred but these names would have most likely been shortened to Milly.’
‘Mabel hasn’t received any useful information either. She said the only people contacting her after the newspaper article were collectors.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me. I’ll keep going through old newspapers as Melly might have been a family friend or someone who worked for the Russells. I’ll also look into the local war records as the World War Two water bottle might prove to be a lead but to be honest it’s a long shot. The CWA cookbook would still be our best bet to finding some answers.’
Grace swiped on her phone to find the picture she’d taken of the cookbook inscription and bit her lip as she examined the date and neat handwriting. Somehow they had to uncover another piece of the puzzle. She had to find a person connected to the apartment who she could pass the tea set and Murano vase on to just like their owner would have wished.
Kathy patted her hand. ‘Edith would be a good person to chat to. You would have met her in the quilting club and, like her mother, she’s a member of the CWA. Someone there might recognise the writing or the name. At least one thing is on our side: secrets in a small town don’t often stay buried forever.’
‘Any more goats turn up?’ Heath asked as he wiped his oil-covered hands on the rag Rowan passed him.
Heath had come to help service the tractor and had replaced the oil filter. Next week he’d be starting on the mural at their old primary school so had wanted to catch up before he got too busy.
Rowan went back to checking the baler so it would be ready for when he cut the next paddock of lucerne for hay. ‘No, just the four, but judging by the size of Olive’s stomach Grace will need to choose at least two more names.’
Heath helped himself to a bottle of water from the beer fridge and sat in the closest camping chair that Rowan kept out for whenever he had company. ‘Any idea on who the owners are?’
‘None. There were no ear tattoos and no one has come forward, even after Mabel put a request on the local social media page.’
‘Frank never saw a thing?’
Rowan tightened a bolt on the baler guards. ‘He didn’t, which means wherever he has a CCTV camera it’s not at the front gate. I’m guessing he only saw the goats when they were running through the garden.’
‘That has to narrow down where the camera might be.’
‘It does but I’m pretty sure the only common boundary fence that would be within a camera’s range is the side one and I’ve driven along there twice and found nothing.’
‘I didn’t see anything either when I was there.’
‘Thanks for putting up a bigger goat yard and for fixing the garden fence, by the way.’
‘No worries. There’s still a section near the front that needs work. It was worth spending the day there just to see Grace smile. She already loves those goats.’
Rowan grabbed a water bottle from out of the fridge and pulled up a chair beside Heath. In the afternoon warmth of the steel shed a beer would send him to sleep. ‘Tell me about it. She’s found plans online for a tyre and wood climbing frame and Frank is helping her put it together this weekend.’
Heath surveyed Rowan over the top of his water bottle. ‘Are you sure Grace is only here for the summer?’
‘That’s what she said.’
‘What about once the mansion’s finished?’
‘I haven’t got the impression that she bought the place to sell but I don’t think she knows herself what she’s doing. Not that my sister and Brenna are taking that into account with their matchmaking plans. What I want to know is why they think Taite would be Grace’s best match.’
‘Are you sure it’s Taite?’
‘It definitely isn’t me and they’ve shown no interest in bringing Trent into the picture.’
Heath took a swig of water before answering. ‘I’m only guessing it’s not you because of Eloise.’
‘Eloise? What has she got to do with anything?’
‘The girls might be worried you’re still beating yourself up about her and aren’t ready to move on.’
Rowan frowned. He wouldn’t use those exact words, but yes, he was still working through how to make sure that he didn’t make a similar mistake again. ‘I’m one hundred percent over her.’
Heath sent him a sympathetic look. ‘If it gets out of hand, talk to Clance. She’ll listen.’
Rowan drained his water bottle. As sweet as Clancy was, if the years of shopping payback were any indication, he’d discovered a new side to her. While her smile was the picture of serenity it also hid a will that could be as indomitable as the mountains beyond the shed door.
He left his seat to collect Heath’s empty water bottle and then he and Heath finished up in the shed.
Once back in the coach house, Rowan took a shower. He was meeting Taite at the pub for an early dinner and would run errands beforehand. Even though he continued to be ignored whenever in Bundilla, neither of them wanted to chance eating too late on a busy Saturday night.
On the drive around the valley edge, Rowan’s conversation with Heath replayed in his head. Now not only did he need a plan to save Taite and to shield Grace, he also had to prove that Eloise no longer mattered to him. His thumb tapped on the steering wheel. Not that Grace really needed his help. With every week he was at Crookwell Park he saw more of the person she must have been before loss had dimmed her light.
When their paths had first crossed, she’d been reserved and he’d sensed a deep-seated wariness. Whereas when she’d met Trent last Wednesday, even though she had spoken to him by phone beforehand, her smile had been open and friendly. Over the past weeks it wasn’t only her wardrobe that had changed; colour now painted her pale cheeks. It was as though he were watching the spring wildflowers that Clancy filled the Ashcroft homestead with blossom after winter.
