Inheritance (3 page)

‘Oh, no, I look after the business side. She needs the help. She started the business after my father died and it’s grown a lot since then, beyond her expectations. Quite amazing, really.’

‘I am impressed.’

Was he laughing at her? Frowning, she turned her head sharply to look at him. His eyes were on the road.

‘She’s done very well.’

‘I’m sure she has. You must be proud of her.’ He sounded sincere. ‘So who’s looking after things for her while you’re away?’

He turned his head again to smile at her. When he smiled, his face lost its severe look and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

‘I trained a replacement for her. A competent girl who was already working for us.’

‘I see.’

Cassie watched him as he looked ahead at the road. What a strong profile, he’s really very attractive, when he’s not being obnoxious. She shocked herself by wondering what it would be like to go to bed with him. She pulled herself up short. The last thing she wanted was any involvement with the opposite sex. She had far too much on her plate for that. Besides, he was too arrogant and self-assured for her. Not her type at all. Pulling her thoughts back, she concentrated on the view.

They left the coast and started heading inland.

‘And how’s the fishing going, Rosie?’ Mark asked over his shoulder.

‘Good. I caught a three kilo barra last week.’

‘That’s pretty good. Do you fish, Cassie?’

‘Yes, Rosie and I sometimes go together.’

‘I stocked the dam with fingerlings last season when we enlarged it. They’ve grown to a decent size now. You’re both welcome to come over any time and try your luck.’

‘Thanks, we might take you up on that.’ Rosie answered, because Cassie was looking around, silent, shocked to see how dry the surrounding countryside had become now they had left the coast.

‘This is terrible,’ she said. ‘How dry it is. Let’s hope we have a proper wet this year.’

‘Yes, those who don’t have permanent water are really struggling to survive with this drought.’ Mark glanced across at her with raised eyebrows. ‘But I’m surprised a city girl like you would notice such things.’

Cassie frowned. ‘I told you, I’ve spent a lot of time up here. I don’t class myself as a ‘townie.’’

‘You look like one.’ His gaze slid over her slim figure, clad in white cotton pants and matching jacket.

Anger sparked again. ‘You don’t exactly look like a ‘bushie’ yourself. I’m sure you haven’t been on the land all your life.’

‘You could be right.’ He spoke easily. ‘But I’m a fast learner. I know almost as much as the old-timers now.’

What conceit! ‘My family has owned Yallandoo for well over a hundred years. My great-great-grandfather established it in the eighteen seventies. I’m the fifth generation of my family to own Yallandoo. I don’t think you can claim that sort of experience.’

‘Ah, but you haven’t grown up here. You don’t look like a country girl.’ He cast her a side-long smile, his voice mocking. ‘I can’t see you out knackering calves. Or spending a long, hard day in the saddle.’

‘I’m sure I can outride you any time!’

‘Really?’ He remained unruffled. ‘We’ll have to put that to the test. I’ll call you and we’ll make a day.’

‘I have no wish to go riding with you.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Frightened you couldn’t keep up?’ He flashed a sardonic smile.

‘You’re rude and…and impossible!’ Cassie spat the words out.

Mark laughed. ‘You’ll soon get used to me. I’m really quite likeable once you get to know me.’

‘I have no wish to get to know you.’

They swung in to the entrance of a property. The signs above the letterbox read
‘Taylor’
and
‘Yallandoo Station’
. As they turned and drove through the gateway, Cassie fell silent again as she took in the scene before her. It was the dry season now and the country desperately needed rain. This normally green, lush pasture now held only lank tufts of dry grass, struggling for survival. The cattle were nowhere to be seen.

A long brown drive, with metal packed hard from constant use, led to the homestead. Cassie looked about her at the large, sprawling old ‘Queenslander’ homestead they were approaching, built on stilts for coolness, with a large open area underneath. Wide verandahs with white painted woodwork wrapped around the house. The tanks that stood nearby, fed by pipelines from the dam and nearby river, kept the lawns green even in a dry like this. Large shady trees interspersed with tropical palms and exotic flowering shrubs flanked the lawns.

A small modern house, not far from the main house, with its own fenced garden, had been built specially for the station manager and his family. The rest of the staff quarters and other outbuildings were further back beyond it, and vast paddocks surrounded it all.

It still looked the same as always. Her throat ached as she remembered her aunt and uncle were no longer here to welcome her. Then the enormity of it struck her. This all belonged to her now. Uncle Len had entrusted her with all this.

Tom and Lorna appeared as they pulled up in front of the house. They had obviously been watching for the car. They came forward now as Mark first deposited her case by the steps and then went back for two large boxes.

A smile lit up Tom’s weather-beaten face as he opened the door for Cassie. ‘Welcome back, Cassie.’ Dressed in standard stockman’s clothes of jeans, checked shirt and RM Williams high-heeled boots, he looked much more comfortable than he had at the funeral.

Lorna joined Tom and enveloped Cassie in a hug as she alighted.

Cassie returned the hug. ‘It’s so good to see you.’

‘And you too, love.’

‘Thanks for collecting these, Mark,’ Tom indicated the boxes, ‘will you stay for a cuppa?’

‘No thanks, I’ll leave you with your guest. Don’t forget our riding date, Cassie.’

Cassie ignored his reminder. ‘Thank you for the lift,’ she replied coolly. She had no desire to see him again, he was insufferable. Too bad if she offended him.

‘I’ll see you soon.’ With a wave, he climbed into his vehicle and pulled away.

***

Mark looked around as he drove away. Yallandoo was certainly a fine property; it would suit his purpose well, being next to his own station, Binbin. He was sorry Len had died. Apart from the fact that he really liked the man, he had already broached the subject of selling Yallandoo. While Len had not seemed really interested, he had been willing to talk, but that was as far as they had gone — preliminary talks.

Well, he’d just have to work on Cassie. He’d been happy to take Rosie to collect her; it gave him an opportunity to meet the young heiress. She was younger than he’d expected, just a slip of a girl, really. She had plenty of spirit, though. He smiled as he remembered how quickly she’d flared up at his blunt manner — and his teasing, too. He’d have to take more care not to antagonise her, to be nice to her. His brother, Laurence, always told him he wasn’t very tactful and he was probably right. Cassie’s a pretty little thing, he mused; those gorgeous green eyes with thick dark lashes and her short blond hair and small face give her a sort of a gamin look. Hmm…well, this was strictly business. He wanted no personal involvement.

‘I’ve made up both rooms,’ Lorna told her when they were inside the house. ‘I didn’t know if you’d want to be in the main bedroom now?’

‘No. I’ll go in my own room. We’ll keep the other room as it is. At least for now. Who knows, maybe my mother will decide to come up some time, she’d like that room. However,’ she turned to Rosie, ‘I’m wondering if you’d like to move in here with me, Rosie, so I won’t be all on my own in this big house?’

‘Oh, yes, I’d love to.’

‘Will that be all right with you, Lorna?’

‘Yes, I guess it’s a good idea. Why don’t you go and start getting your things together now, Rosie? Cassie needs time to unpack.’

‘Okay. We’ll catch up later, Cassie. You can tell me everything that’s been happening in Sydney then.’

‘Sure.’

They moved down the hallway, Tom carrying her luggage, and entered the room that Cassie knew so well. Pale blue walls, dainty blue flowers on white cotton for curtains and bedspread, and white painted furniture all gave the room a cool look.

‘Just leave the bag, thanks, Tom, and I’ll unpack. I think I’ll take a shower and change.’ Impulsively she threw her arms round Lorna. ‘And thank you. Both of you. For everything. I can’t remember a time when you weren’t here. I can still remember when you were a stockman, Tom, and before you became housekeeper, Lorna. I know how much they trusted and relied on you and what good friends you all were. I know you must be missing them as much as me.’

Lorna sighed. ‘It’s been a sad time, love. For all of us. But we have to keep going. It’s what they’d want. Now, we’ll leave you to unpack. We can talk later.’

Cassie opened her bag as they left the room and started to put her clothes away. How many times had she done this? She had lost count. Then she sat in the big blue and white floral armchair where she had curled up with a book so often when torrential rain had prevented her from going outside.

Tears pricked her eyes as she caught sight of a framed photo on the table alongside. Picking it up, she sat looking at it. It was of herself on her first pony with Uncle Len leading her. He had done that, patiently, round and round, until he was satisfied that she was able to control the small horse.

How she delighted at last in digging her heels in and racing across the home paddock! How old had she been then? Probably only five.

Three years later had come her first horse. A real step up in the world, even if it was only a docile old mare. Then finally, her own beloved Tango. A beautiful chestnut mare with a soft,
velvety muzzle. A present from her aunt and uncle, Tango knew straightaway that they belonged together. They had been together ever since.

The tears came then, great drops falling on to the photo in her lap. She hardly noticed them. When they were all spent, Cassie took a deep breath as she shook herself out of her reverie and put the photo back.

Picking up a change of clothes, she went into the bathroom. As she let the soothing water run over her body, her mind moved ahead. Now she had a decision to make. Should she keep the station or sell it? If she stayed, would she be like her parents, and pine for the city, or would she be as happy here for the rest of her life as her uncle and aunt had always been?

Stepping out of the shower she towelled herself dry, then dressed in jeans and a pale blue, short sleeved shirt, open at the neck. She checked in the mirror, no red eyes betrayed her tears.

In the kitchen, Tom and Lorna were waiting. The table was set ready for afternoon tea with a freshly baked sultana cake.

‘Sit down, love. I’ll just make the tea. You okay?’

‘Yes, I’m all right. It’s just coming here brings everything back.’

‘I know. It takes time to get used to it. And you’ll never forget them, love. But later you’ll mostly remember the good times. And be glad there were so many.’

Tom cleared his throat as he passed her the cake. ‘How was the trip up, Cassie?’

‘Good, thanks, Tom,’ she said, before biting into the fruity cake.

‘And how’s your mother?’ Lorna poured tea from the old-fashioned brown china pot. ‘Still busy as ever, I suppose.’

‘Oh yes. Always.’

Tom got down to business. ‘Now you’ll want to see the books first. Everything’s ready for you. ’Course Graham the executor’s been signing the cheques, but I’ve got all the details here. I hope it’s all okay.’

‘I’m sure it will be.’

‘You know things aren’t what they were a year or so ago, before the drought. ’Course, we’re better off than a lot. What with the river, we’re never short of water. And we’ve had some rain, but not enough to keep the feed up. We haven’t had a proper monsoon for three years now, that’s the trouble. We’ve had to sell off a lot of stock and with so many doing the same, we didn’t get a good price. And what we’ve kept, we’ve had to hand feed most of the time. That’s pricey.’

Cassie took a deep breath. ‘I know it hasn’t been good, Tom, and I know you’ll have managed as well as anyone could. I’ll go through the books and I’ll have a better idea how things are then. Is there anything you think we should be doing now?’ She gave a shaky laugh. ‘Apart from praying for rain.’

‘We better all do that, by God. We need a proper wet.’

‘Is everything down in the office? I think I’ll go down now and have a look.’

‘Yes, I’ve put everything on the desk for you.’

‘Thanks, Tom.’

The station office had been built in the large space under the house. Inside everything was neat and tidy. Cassie looked around the room that had been her uncle’s special domain.

Framed aboriginal art and artefacts hung on its walls, gifts to members of the family from the local aborigines at various times over the last century. They reflected the friendship that grew between the two different cultures as they learnt to live amicably in the same area.

Cassie seated herself at the desk and turned on the computer. As she examined the reports, she saw at once that they were now receiving less than half the price for stock than they had a year ago. The sales were not enough to cover the costs of the previous year. The feed bill alone was enormous. Checking further, she gave a gasp of dismay as she perused the bank statements. My God, we’re running on an overdraft. An overdraft on Yallandoo! But Yallandoo’s always been so prosperous. Perhaps it’s just since the drought. She checked back further. Yes, here it was, Uncle Len established the overdraft about three months before the accident.

Cassie sat at the desk thinking. If the monsoon rains came this summer, there would be good feed within a few weeks. That would stop the hand feeding. But then the station would need re-stocking. They were down to about a quarter of their full capacity. More money would be needed for that. And what if the rains didn’t come? What would happen then?

Searching through the files she found a letter from the bank manager, Bob Rawlings, to her uncle. It confirmed that the bank would extend credit for a period of twelve months as arranged. Should an extension be required, then further arrangements would need to be made. Twelve months — that meant it was for another three months from now. What then?