The Bush Telegraph, page 3
As she sat back, she felt the trickle of dampness down her neck. She’d forgotten the intensity of the heat out here and could feel the beads of sweat on her top lip. ‘Maybe it’s just a deep bruise. Or, as you say, a nerve blocked already from the swelling. It won’t take any weight?’
‘It’s numb. Like it isn’t there.’
Maddy nodded. ‘Can you wriggle your toes inside your boot?’
He concentrated and his feet moved. ‘Yes.’
Maddy considered his height and weight and her own small frame. ‘Could be worse.’ She looked around. ‘Well, I’m not a crane, so we’ll need a splint and a makeshift crutch to get you up.’
‘A block and tackle?’
She grinned at that. ‘Now that would be helpful.’ For a guy in a fix, he was taking it calmly. And with a dry humour. She liked that . . . then realised the direction of her thoughts.
Noooo. No, no, no. She’d come here with the specific goals of showing Spinifex that Madison Locke had fabulous nursing experience and was a strong woman. One who could stand on her own – no man necessary – and to prove she didn’t need a cheer squad to support her. Her daughter, as young as she was, needed to see that women were tough, independent and capable of running their lives without a bossy man making the decisions.
Connor studied her. Probably saw her instinctive move back as she’d caught her thoughts. ‘I’m lucky to be helped by a nurse.’
Maddy stood, nodded, and picked up a two-metre branch that had been recently cut from a tree. ‘A staff like Little John and Robin Hood would have fought with,’ she said over her shoulder to Bee, who still leaned out the window. They were reading Robin Hood now they’d finished Gulliver’s Travels.
She tested her weight on the stick and it barely bent. It would do. Glancing around, she saw a few of them on the ground, along with a small chainsaw.
He followed the direction of her look. ‘I was sorting a fallen tree.’
‘You’ve made a feast of walking sticks.’ She selected two shorter offcuts and held them against his leg. ‘Don’t weight-bear, just in case it’s broken. I don’t want you to grind bone fragments.’
He closed his eyes for a second as if imagining that. ‘I’d prefer not to grind bone fragments, either.’
She raised her brows at him and couldn’t help a small smile.
Chapter Four
Maddy
By the time Maddy had run some crepe bandage around the makeshift splint for his injured leg and retrieved the larger piece for a handy walking stick, they were ready to try a non-weight-bearing shuffle-hop-drag.
With much effort and the not-so-odd trickle of sweat, they managed to get him into the front seat with his leg stretched out in front of him. They tucked the chainsaw on the floor beside him under his knee. Maddy had put the front seat as far back as it could go to accommodate his long legs, so Bridget had to sit shoehorned into the opposite rear seat with their belongings.
Maddy shut his door and walked around to climb in. ‘Is it far to the house?’ This was outback Queensland. It could be a good drive from the front gate.
‘About two kilometres.’
Maddy considered Bee’s safety that far off the road. Her neck prickled. She’d been told not to drive with a stranger in an isolated place. Gayle’s Law dictated no solo outreach response for any nurse or doctor. ‘Is there anyone there?’
‘No.’ He stared straight at her, waiting for her to decide if he was telling the truth. With those eyes, she could do nothing other than believe him. Damn her weakness. But there was something inherently trustworthy about him – she felt it in her gut – and if she couldn’t believe herself, who could she believe?
‘Okay. Who was driving the car?’
‘My twelve-year-old son.’ He watched for her response. ‘Single dad, not doing well,’ he said, the words so dry they crunched like the red gravel on the driveway had under her feet.
Maddy looked at him in shock. ‘Twelve?’ Then she remembered how short the driver had seemed.
‘Yep, twelve,’ he said, his gaze remaining on her face.
Maddy shook her head. ‘Wow. Though kids do drive earlier out here. I suppose he’s had an unregistered paddock basher to get from the house to the gate to catch the bus for school?’
‘Indeed.’
‘Sounds like you need Grandma’s Rules,’ Maddy murmured.
‘What’s that?’
‘Sorry. I was thinking out loud.’ Alma had told her about them when one of the boys on the island had grown too wild. Maddy had been amazed what a little specific bargaining could achieve. Eat your greens and then you can have ice-cream. Reward little terrors after they do something good. Set up reward and repercussions before they do anything bad, Alma had said. She flicked her gaze sideways. ‘You must be worried about him being on the road,’ she said.
His mouth tightened. ‘What do you think?’
‘I’m only just thinking again since your son almost killed my daughter.’ She shot back her response a little too quickly and a second later she regretted it. He’d also be in shock, but he hid it too well, she saw, studying his worried frown. Twelve and driving. Bloody hell.
Maddy couldn’t help glancing at the inquisitive Bee in the back. If they’d always lived in the outback, Bee would probably be able to drive a paddock basher. She’d done it herself in Western Australia at about that age. Before her mum died and the family went to pot.
It was probably best for her not to say anything more. She switched on the engine and headed for the distant trees at the end of the driveway.
The house, when they came up to it, wasn’t what she expected for a single dad with a reckless son. A big bauhinia tree exploded in white butterflies and added a smile to her face, as did the two-storey house with the circling verandahs. It wasn’t big, but the white paint looked good, with added wood features in lattice that made it appear like a sprawling gingerbread confection in a green oasis, yet surrounded by a kiln of red earth.
Despite the heat and the adjacent red paddocks, the immediate yard at closer inspection looked leafy and shaded, and like a place you wanted to sit.
‘This is very pleasant. I love that tree.’
‘Thanks.’ He studied the garden with pride. ‘It was my mother’s favourite. She came from Christchurch in New Zealand. They have two hundred acres of park in the city in Christchurch and I think most of the population loves to garden.’
Maddy hadn’t arrived at the gardening fetish point. Maybe one day. ‘Do you?’
‘I can only spend half an hour most days, but I get a lot of peace from poking around under the trees.’
His mother’s death was recent, then, judging by the sadness in his voice. Sympathy flowered within her for his loss, particularly with her own so fresh. And his son was a little monster, considering he’d driven off after hitting his dad with the car. This man needed tranquillity and if gardening provided it, then good. ‘You won’t be poking around for a few days.’
‘The plants will survive.’
‘Will your son, when you catch him?’
He raised one brow. ‘I might do better if I did flog him, but it’s not my style. I’m a hands-off guy.’ He then huffed a strange, bitter laugh that turned her head.
He waved his hand. ‘Sorry. Long story. Jayden will have gone next door to my brother’s place. It’s only up the road.’
Was that half a kilometre, or a thirty-minute drive? In the outback, it could be either.
He went on with a sigh. ‘Kyle will be drunk. He’ll laugh and slap him on the back.’
‘Kyle?’ Maddy felt the horror contort her face and she quickly pulled it back into a non-judgemental expression. She felt the subtle attraction to this man, which she’d been resisting, turn off like a tap. Yep. Kyle Fairhall. That’s why the name had seemed familiar. Kyle had been friends with her ex – though Kyle hadn’t been too bad, just stupid when he was drunk. Memories of her past began playing in her mind again and brought her mood crashing down. It suddenly didn’t matter if she told herself that she was a new, tough woman. This guy had a brother who’d known Bridget’s father.
Connor Fairhall now seemed much less trustworthy. Maybe his erratic son wasn’t a monster after all. Maybe he was just protecting himself from his dad.
Connor looked like he was about to say something, then changed his mind. Maybe he’d read the turn of mood in her face. She wasn’t that great at hiding her feelings – except at work when she had her professional face on.
‘Yes. Thanks for the lift.’ End of subject. He was home. They could go their separate ways now, which suited her.
He pushed open the car door while she sat watching him, then shifted his butt to the edge of the seat, ready to launch himself.
Maddy closed her eyes briefly and gave up on trying to relinquish care. He’d fall flat on his face doing that, and she was still a nurse, even if she wanted to avoid this guy and his family as much as possible. ‘So, you’re going to get yourself out of the car and into the house without waiting for me?’
His shoulders sat rigid and he didn’t turn to look at her.
She added, ‘Like a stubborn old man.’
‘Eventually. Yes. I will.’ Then he did turn. And raised dark, mocking eyebrows – a trait of his, it seemed. ‘Someone gave me some pain relief.’
Maddy didn’t change her expression. ‘She must be smart.’ And she couldn’t help adding, ‘Unlike the man who took them.’
Stop it, she commanded. She didn’t want to be smartypants Maddy with this guy. Why did she feel she could take liberties when she’d just decided he might be like her disastrous ex?
Brushing that thought away, she opened her door and called, ‘Wait. I’m coming.’ It wasn’t this guy’s fault that she had hangups. Or that she’d been surprised into a bolt of visual attraction when she saw him. He was just a good-looking man. It was like seeing a magnificent stallion in a paddock. To be admired . . . from a distance. The thought made her smile. He looked quizzically at her but it was not something she could share with her patient.
She climbed out before he’d even got one leg over the edge of the doorframe, because regardless of what he wanted to do, he couldn’t do it on his own.
‘Right.’ Maddy scanned the tidy yard, and when she couldn’t see any dangers, she said, ‘Is there a dog that’s going to attack me or my daughter?’
‘A small one. My mother’s. Might lick you to death, if it wakes up. The working dogs are all tied up.’
‘Okay. Bee, do you want to get out and stretch, baby? Just while I help the old man into the house.’
Chapter Five
Connor
Who was this woman? Connor narrowed his eyes at the mock-officious face leaning into the car towards him and felt the warmth of her concern. He hadn’t seen a lot of warmth recently. The last three months had channelled cold shoulders and contempt from people he used to call friends in Sydney – ever since the charges had been placed. Despite the unequivocal quashing in writing, nobody had warmed up. And now his son hated him too.
Spinifex had offered no friendliness, either, when he’d arrived to care for his mum. Kyle had sneered and the town had stayed silent. Word had got around about what had happened in Sydney.
His mother had believed him without question. She’d told him that what didn’t kill him would make him stronger and maybe he’d need these skills of survival later to support someone else. Thank God for mothers. He’d thought about that idea, of being a human resource for those accused of things they didn’t do, and it had helped a little. Crazy as it might be.
Inexplicably, his barricade of aloofness, which normally held back the hurt, had creaked and shifted today when this woman looked at him. Which was not a great prospect for him. He’d hoped the great wall had set there forever, a fortress of protection against the fairer sex.
And fair she was. Her cute freckles and gorgeous red hair were the first things he noticed. Thick soft-looking strands bunched like a tail in a band made her seem like she should be in a pony club, not caring for injured fools who stepped in front of cars driven by minors.
A fool who had expected the minor to stop.
He felt like an old man looking at her. Though she mustn’t be far from his own thirty-four years if she was a registered nurse with a daughter who looked around Jayden’s age.
She’d paused for his attention. The gold centre in her green eyes drilled him and their eyes connected again, before she glanced down with sudden concentration at his knee.
‘Let’s go,’ she said to his elbow. The hand she held out was work-worn and capable, but still small and cute. When he looked back to her face, her lips had a tiny crease right at the corner as if suppressing an always-ready smile. Yep. She was laughing at him.
Her sense of humour hit the spot he liked. Quirky and lightning quick. Who would have thought this day from hell would have a bonus like her to pick him up?
All in all, it was a damn shame his life lay in cowpats of disaster at his feet. Stains on his reputation, his shitty nightmare of a brother, plus Jayden’s dump of delinquency. Now this Maddy finding him knocked on his bum in the dirt by a twelve-year-old.
It was complete crap right round.
Suck it up, Connor, and stand up. Moaning about fate wasn’t going to get him inside the house, and he could feel his knee swelling as he sat.
She handed him the walking-stick branch and bent down to take the weight of his leg and ease it in an arc out of the car. Pain shot up into his thigh and he wondered now if it was in fact broken. Which would mean another trip in the car.
No. He would not have a broken leg, too, he promised himself. He hated being dependent on anyone. It didn’t do you any good.
‘Hurts, eh?’ Her voice was matter-of-fact.
‘It’s fine.’ He stared past her to the driveway, avoiding her keen eyes. ‘Let’s do this.’
‘Fine indeed,’ she said, and again he heard the underlying humour.
This proved to be teeth-grindingly painful. Not just physical pain, though that was bad enough. It was the mental anguish of having to lean his considerable weight on a slip of a woman that really hurt, despite the fact that she was surprisingly strong and able to help him drag his useless leg into the house.
Once inside, he wiped his hand across his face to remove the sweat the effort had painted him with. At least he’d washed the dishes this morning, so she wouldn’t think he always lived in a state of chaos. Though Jayden’s plate was still there, porridge congealing on the sides of the bowl, and the milk left out.
Damn. He’d probably have to throw it out and now he’d have trouble getting into town to replace it. He couldn’t offer her a cup of tea, either. ‘Don’t suppose you drink your tea black?’ he asked.
She’d stepped back when he’d reached the scrubbed kitchen table, something big and solid he could lean on without fear that it wouldn’t bear his weight. Her gaze, skimming the benches and walls and patched cushions on the furniture, came back to his face. ‘As long as it’s weak.’
‘Would you like one, then? It seems my son left the milk out while I was pruning the trees on the drive and I don’t want to poison you.’
‘No, thank you. We need to get to town.’ She glanced down at her daughter standing quietly beside her. ‘The name on the gate at Kyle’s place would be Fairhall as well?’
‘Actually, it just says “Kyle’s Run”.’
‘Thanks. I’ll look for your utility when I pass. If I can’t see it, I’ll ring you. You need anything before I go?’
He shook his head. He’d manage. Like he’d managed – hell, he’d been privileged to – when his mum was terminal and he’d come home to stay with her so she could die at home like she wanted to. Bloody Kyle.
Like he’d managed the disaster in Sydney.
He realised Maddy was looking at him and his gaze snagged on where she chewed her soft, beautiful lower lip. He wanted to say, Don’t do that, but knew, without a doubt, that it was too personal.
Then she jolted him back to reality, saying, ‘I want to get something out of the freezer. You sit, I’ll help you put your leg up, and you can try to keep the knee cold until the swelling goes down.’
That was smart. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Snap out of it, he told his addled brain. He should do what he was told and stop the fantasies. He needed to get sorted as soon as possible.
‘Thanks.’ Shifting to the carver end of the table, he eased himself into the armchair and she dragged a side chair into line, then helped him raise his leg onto it.
Pain swamped him for a minute, and instead of closing his eyes he stared at the sunset hues of her hair as she bent her head. Inhaled the scent of some mesmerising herbal shampoo he wanted to find next time he shopped. Resisted the urge to raise his fingers to the gold strands caught in the sunlight through the kitchen window, and while he was at it he stifled the urge to discover if her hair felt as thick and soft as it looked.
Then he remembered what his ex had done.
The swell of bitterness squeezed his chest and the wave of betrayal washed that thought away. Now he concentrated on her economical movements as she swiftly crossed to the fridge, found two packets of frozen peas and wrapped each in a tea towel she found in his kitchen drawer.
Admiration for her bloomed. He hadn’t moved stuff since his mother died, and it had taken him a while to find the right drawers.
She carried her makeshift cold packs across and put the flattest one under his knee and the softer one over the swollen patella. Almost instantly, the relief soaked into his body and he couldn’t help moistening his dry throat and wishing for relief on that front, too.
As if she’d read his mind, she took a glass from the drying rack and filled it to the brim with water from the cooler beside the sink. Placing the glass beside him, she picked up the house phone with notepaper and pen and stretched the cord precariously across the space until it sat on the dining table beside him. ‘What’s your land-line number?’
