The Mighty Quinns: Callum. Kate Hoffmann
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offer her a place to stay. She’s a genealogist come all the way from Dublin, Ireland, to do research on the Quinn family. She’s been driving back and forth between here and Bilbarra for the past two days, waiting for you to get back.”
“You invited a genealogist to stay at Kerry Creek?” Cal frowned. “What does she expect to find here?”
“She’d like to talk to you about Crevan Quinn, in particular. She’s documented the Quinn line going all the way back to the ancient kings of Ireland. You ought to take a look at her work. It’s all very interesting.”
“Where did you put her?” Cal asked.
“She stayed in the south bunkhouse last night. She’ll be driving back to Bilbarra to fetch her things this morning, if you approve. I don’t think her research will take long.”
“I’m not going to have time for her,” Cal said, grabbing the platter of eggs and scooping a spoonful onto his plate. He sent Mary a shrewd look. “If you ask my opinion, I think you’re happy to have another woman on Kerry Creek who will sip tea and eat biscuits with you all afternoon.”
Mary gave his head a playful slap. “I’m the only one on Kerry Creek who has managed to maintain a bit of civility. Look at the lot of you, gobbling down your food like hogs at a trough. I’d wager you’d all act differently if we had a lady at the table.”
“Oh, so you invited her to stay so we’d improve our manners?” Cal picked up his serviette and placed it daintily in his lap, holding out his little fingers as he did so. “Hear that, boys? Our Mary thinks we’re all a bunch of uncouth cane toads.”
“Can I tell her you’ll meet with her after dinner tonight?”
“Let Brody or Teague take this one,” Cal said wearily. “I’ve got far too much on my list.”
“Brody took off for Bilbarra on Friday and hasn’t been seen since and Teague has responsibilities with Doc Daley. He spent last night at Dunbar Station and isn’t supposed to be back until later this morning.”
The phone on the wall rang and Mary wiped her hands on her apron before picking it up. When she finished with the call, she sighed and shook her head.
“What is it?” Cal asked.
“That was Angus Embley. Your brother raised quite the stink in town last night. It appears Brody’s lost his keys down the dunny at the Spotted Dog. Angus asked if someone could bring him a spare set and bail him out of jail.”
“I’m not going,” Cal said. “This is the third time in as many months.”
“You will go,” Mary said, her voice firm. Though she wasn’t related to the Quinns, she had served as a surrogate mother ever since their own mother had left the station twelve years before. Cal recognized the tone of voice and knew not to argue.
Since Brody had arrived on Kerry Creek a few months ago, he’d been nothing but trouble. A motorcycle accident had ended his career as a pro footballer and Brody had found himself at loose ends, unable to deal with the loss of everything he’d worked for. Though he wasn’t a pauper, the money he’d made wouldn’t last forever. Sooner or later, Brody would have to make a decision about a new career. But for now, he’d been living off his notoriety and the patience and generosity of his oldest brother. But this had gone far enough.
“Teague probably has to fly into Bilbarra today. He can just—”
“You’ll not leave your brother sitting in the nick,” Mary scolded. “Besides, it will do you good to get off this station for a few hours. You can pick up supplies and the mail, and maybe even get yourself a decent haircut.”
“All right, all right,” Cal said. He pushed away from the table and stood, then snatched another piece of toast from a passing platter. “If I leave now, I’ll be back before lunch.”
Mary fetched her list and handed it to him. “Stop by the library, too, will you? Daisy called to tell me my books were in.”
“Any other requests?” he asked, looking around the table.
“The windmill up in the northwest paddock is rattling,” Skip said. “We should probably take it apart before mustering and replace the bearings.”
“I’ll order the parts,” Cal said. He grabbed his stockman’s hat from the peg near the door, then nodded to the men gathered around the table. “Comb your hair for once, will ya, boys? I’m sick to death of looking at you.”
Cal jogged down the porch steps to his ute. He tucked Mary’s list into his shirt pocket, then hopped behind the wheel. A cloud of dust billowed out behind him as he drove down the long dirt road.
Though the drive into Bilbarra took two hours, Cal had made it so many times in his life that he barely noticed the time passing. The closer he got to town, the smoother the roads became, though none of them were paved. He slipped a CD into the player and let his mind wander, thinking about his chances of finding a wife.
He’d always known his place was at Kerry Creek. From the time he was a boy, he’d carefully watched each element of the operation, taking on more and more responsibility with every year that passed. He’d never expected to be boss cocky before he turned thirty. But when his parents had decided to reconcile, his father had reluctantly handed the reins over to Cal and left for Sydney.
Cal imagined that Jack Quinn’s decision had been made easier knowing the station was in good hands. And after his parents’ last visit, he could see the choice had been right for them both. His mother taught school in Sydney and his father had started a small landscaping business. They’d bought a house near the ocean and were happy being together again.
As he turned east on the main road into Bilbarra, Cal squinted as the early-morning sun emerged at the top of a rise. He grabbed his sunglasses from the dashboard, but they fell to the floor of the ute. Bending down, he searched for them with his fingers. But when he glanced out the windshield again, Cal was startled to find himself heading directly toward a figure standing in the middle of the road.
GEMMA SAW THE TRUCK COMING toward her and frantically waved her arms above her head. She’d been stuck here, at the edge of nowhere, for nearly thirty minutes. Not a single living creature had happened by beyond a few hundred flies and a small, evil-looking lizard. But now, as the vehicle was coming closer, she realized the driver hadn’t seen her—or he didn’t intend to stop.
She shouted, jumping up and down to gain the driver’s attention. For an instant, she thought he might run her down and she scurried to safety, but then suddenly, the truck veered sharply and drove off the edge of the road. It came to a dead stop when the front wheels hit the bottom of a shallow gully. Gemma held her breath, afraid to move, adrenaline coursing through her. She’d been the cause of this accident and now she wasn’t sure what to do. Her mobile wasn’t working and she was at least fifteen kilometers from Bilbarra and help.
“Oh, please, oh, please,” she chanted as she raced over to the truck, climbing down into where it had come to rest. The driver’s-side window was open and she could see a man inside. He was conscious and staring out the windscreen. “Are you all right?” she asked, coughing from the dust that hung in the air.
He turned and looked at her, then blinked vacantly. “Yes,” he murmured. He closed his eyes, then opened them again, shaking his head. “Are you real? Or am I dead?”
His question caught her by surprise and she reached inside and grabbed his arm, then pinched it hard. “Do you feel that?”
“Ow!” He rubbed his skin, glaring at her.
“I’m very real. And you’re fine. You haven’t hit your head, have you? Are you bleeding anywhere?”
He reached up and pushed his hat off. The moment he did, Gemma got a good look at his face. She took a step back, a shiver skittering through her body. Suddenly breathless, she tried to inhale. But her lungs had ceased to function properly. She felt a bit dizzy and wondered if all that adrenaline was