The Cattleman's English Rose. Barbara Hannay

she wanted to hit him.

      ‘Sorry,’ he said, but he didn’t look the slightest bit sorry. ‘I’m afraid I’ve been teasing Annie since she was knee high to a mosquito. It’s a bad habit.’

      ‘It certainly is. I feel very sorry for your sister and I’d appreciate it if you’d desist.’

      ‘Annie has a good sense of humour.’

      ‘Good for her. Mine disappeared along with my brother.’

      That took the smug smile from his face.

      Casting a quick eye over the kitchen, Kane shrugged. ‘It doesn’t look as if Ferret’s here, so I’ll leave this on the table and we may as well keep going.’

      ‘To Southern Cross?’

      ‘Yes.’

      The ringers’ hut had shaken Charity’s fragile confidence and as they continued their rattling journey along the dirt track that wound its way through more dusty bush she prepared herself for more disappointment. She supposed that if people lived in the middle of nowhere there wasn’t much need to have a nice home to impress visitors, but she hadn’t realised that outback people managed with so few creature comforts.

      How did women like Annie McKinnon cope?

      ‘This is our place coming up now.’ Kane’s voice broke into her thoughts. She peered ahead through the dusty windscreen and caught snatches of white and fresh green flashing between the trees.

      Then they rounded a bend in the track and she saw iron gates painted pristine white and, beyond them, an expanse of green lawn flanked by lush palm trees and clumps of white bougainvillea, as pretty as bridal veils.

      And then she saw Southern Cross homestead.

      It was a huge, sprawling low-set house, built of timber painted snowy-white and wrapped around by deep, shady verandas. A garden of green shrubbery and white flowers fringed the verandas.

      ‘Oh, how lovely,’ she said, knowing she couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d fallen down a rabbit hole and found herself in Wonderland.

      ‘This place more to your taste?’ Kane asked.

      It was like coming across an oasis in the desert. ‘It’s fantastic.’ Unable to contain her amazement, she asked, ‘How do you manage to keep the lawn so green?’

      ‘That’s old Vic’s job.’ Kane nodded towards the tree-lined watercourse that had run parallel to the road for the last part of their journey. ‘He pumps water up from the creek,’ he said. ‘But when the creek runs dry, we lose the lawn.’

      ‘Does that happen very often?’

      ‘Every few years we get a bad drought. If we don’t get a good wet season this year, we’ll be in trouble.’

      He drove on around to the back of the house so that they could unload the stores directly to the kitchen pantry. As they pulled up a chorus of barking greeted them.

      Dogs—a black Labrador, a blue and white spotted dog and a Border collie—came racing from several directions. Kane shot a sharp look in Charity’s direction.

      ‘Do dogs bother you?’

      ‘No, not at all. I love them. We have a Border collie at home.’

      She noticed, however, that the collie, after peering hopefully up at the truck, turned and retreated to the veranda where it lay with its head on its paws, paying them no more attention.

      ‘That’s Lavender,’ Kane told her. ‘She’s Annie’s dog and she always mopes if Annie goes away.’

      ‘Oh, the poor thing.’

      They climbed down from the truck. ‘The blue-heeler cattle dog’s mine,’ he said. ‘His name’s Roo.’

      ‘Hello, Roo.’ She gave his speckled head a friendly scratch.

      ‘And the Labrador’s Gypsy. She’s Reid’s dog.’

      ‘Oh, Gypsy, you’re very beautiful.’

      A wizened, sunburned fellow, bowlegged no doubt from years astride a horse, ambled around the side of the house, and Charity was introduced to Vic. He beamed at her when she complimented him on the beautiful garden.

      ‘If you enjoy having flowers in the house, miss, pick as many as you like,’ he told her.

      ‘You’ll have a friend for life if you keep feeding him compliments,’ Kane said, as Vic left them. Then, with the greetings over, he ordered Gypsy and Roo to clear off. ‘We’ve got work to do,’ he told them. ‘So give us some room.’

      The dogs retreated happily to lie in the shade and Kane and Charity unloaded the truck. As they carried boxes of groceries through to the pantry room, Charity stole curious glimpses down hallways and through doorways to the rest of the house. She gained an impression of unexpected coolness and casual elegance—of very high ceilings and polished timber floors, antique furniture and beautiful rugs.

      The last thing she’d expected was to be charmed by Southern Cross. What a pity she was so worried about Tim.

      If she wasn’t continually haunted by his disappearance she might have been able to enjoy working here.

      Kane found his brother in the machinery shed, working on the diesel motor of one of the station’s trucks.

      ‘I’ve found us a housekeeper, so you don’t have to worry about getting dishpan hands.’