Christmas at Brigadier Station Read online

  “We’ll take these just in case,” she said, grabbing another large pair of gumboots. “They’re Lachie’s size twelves so they might be a little too big.”

  “They’ll do the trick just fine. Thanks.” He took them from her and their fingers touched briefly. He swallowed hard as he opened the umbrella and waited until she was under it. He closed the door behind them and walked her to the passenger side. When she was inside the dry cabin, he walked to his door, noting the way the dirt had turned to mud under his feet.

  What awaited them on the way to the paddock? Would they even be able to cross the bridge?

  He slid behind the wheel and closed the umbrella before storing it behind his seat. Then he started the engine, switched on the headlights and turned to Harriet. “Ready?”

  She nodded beside him. “Sure am.”

  As the ute squelched its way over the dirt path, Harriet let herself relax for the first time that day. With all the worry and frantic activity over the past couple of days, she had been focused on helping Lachie and his family get away to Brisbane. Then, when she’d finally arrived home to the empty house after dropping them off, she’d quickly changed into some farm clothes and gotten straight to work on the daily chores.

  Lachie had left her a list of jobs and things to do if the weather worsened. He hoped to return within a week, but they both knew how much could happen in just a few days. Especially if the rain continued to fall at this rate.

  “Which way?” Tom asked as they approached a fork in the road.

  She squinted before pointing to the left. “That way, sorry.”

  He glanced at her briefly before making the turn. What must he think of her?

  Her cheeks burned as she looked down at her loose grey track pants.

  “Thank you again for doing this. I must admit, I’m not that experienced working on the station. Daniel always had workers to help him and made me stay behind to take care of the kids.”

  “It seems to me you did a great job with them.” His voice was full of genuine admiration. “My ex didn’t get too hands-on either. Nothing wrong with that. We grew up in a different time with different expectations. Women today have so many more opportunities.”

  “They sure do.” Harriet smiled. “My daughter-in-law Meghan works just as hard as her husband on their property. Well, maybe a little less now that she’s expecting.”

  His voice softened. “Congratulations. When is she due?”

  “March.” Her heart fluttered with excitement. “They’re going to make great parents. Do you have any grandchildren?”

  Tom shook his head. “No, not yet.”

  The inside of the cab lit up as lightning streaked the sky. Harriet swallowed hard as a feeling of foreboding caught in her throat.

  “Are we very far away?” Tom’s voice was tight.

  Thunder cracked and echoed around them. “The bridge is just ahead and the paddock is on the other side.

  “Good.”

  Catchments were again saturated and the run-off had caused the river to rise. The crossing appeared in the glow of the headlights, water surging impatiently below, making the bridge close to going under. Tom stopped the ute. “It looks okay from here but I want to get a better view.”

  “Yeah, no point crossing if we can’t get back,” Harriet agreed.

  Tom reached behind her seat and rustled around for a moment before retrieving a thick raincoat. He shrugged his long arms into it and pulled on the hood. “Wait here.”

  She watched as he slid out of the ute and walked in front of it, his figure slicing through the high beams of the headlights.

  After contemplating the river for a few minutes, he finally returned, soaking wet.

  “It’s rising pretty steadily. If we make it quick, we should be okay.”

  Harriet turned to him. “Are you sure? It’s not worth risking our lives or this ute for.”

  “Trust me. I’m not going to put your life at risk for anything.” He said it so tenderly, like a kiss.

  Before she could reply, he put the vehicle in gear and started through the water, maintaining a steady pace as spray funnelled over the ute. The wipers worked hard to clear the windscreen.

  In the dark she couldn’t see the water flowing by, but she could hear it, even over the pelting rain. “They’re just in there. I’ll get the gate.” Harriet turned to open her door.

  “I’ll do it.” Tom stopped her, his hand resting on her arm.

  “No, it’s fine. It’ll save time this way and I don’t mind getting a bit wet.”

  She climbed out and shut the door behind her. Before she had even reached the gate, she was soaking, despite her raincoat. She undid the latch and walked the gate open, waiting for Tom to drive through before closing it behind him.

  Tom handed her a towel when she was settled back in the warm cab. She took it gratefully and wiped her face.

  He drove around the boundary of the paddock. Fear chilled her when they didn’t immediately find the cattle.

  “This is definitely the right paddock?” he asked.

  She frowned. “Yes, I’m sure this is it.”

  Another rod of lightning speared from the sky, illuminating the paddock and revealing the small herd sheltering under a lone gum tree.

  “There they are,” Tom said on a relieved sigh before driving closer and counting them.

  “That’s all of them. Thank God.” Harriet relaxed against the headrest.

  Tom was quiet as he looked around the paddock. “They should be okay in here tonight. But this is a low-lying paddock so if it keeps raining like this, you should move them.”

  Harriet nodded. “I’ll call Lachie tomorrow and see what he wants to do.” It was his station after all. Maybe Darcy could drive over from Arabella Plains to move them.

  “I can do it if you need a hand,” Tom offered.

  “Thank you,” she replied. “Surely you have your own jobs to attend to.”

  She heard the seat squeak below him as he moved, but in the darkness she couldn’t see his face. “It’s fine, really. Just ask and I’ll come straight over.”

  With the cattle accounted for, they headed back. Harriet attended to the gate again, this time wondering if the rain had gotten even worse than it had been just a few minutes before.

  Bloody hell. When it rains it sure does pour.

  They made it back to the house in one piece and Harriet turned to Tom when he hesitated to turn off the engine.

  “Come inside. I promised you a warm meal.”

  In the dim light cast from the house, she watched him turn to her.

  “Are you sure? You have a lot going on. I don’t want to be a hassle.”

  “It’s the least I can do to repay your kindness.” Though country hospitality was only part of the reasoning behind the offer. She enjoyed Tom’s company and the feelings that he awoke in her. His very nearness made her pulse quicken, igniting every cell in her body.

  “If you’re sure, then I’d love to,” Tom said in that sexy, deep voice which caused goosebumps to rise on her back and neck.

  They unclipped their seat belts and raced through the rain to the stoop of the house. After removing her boots, she turned back to see his ute now coated in mud. “Sorry about that.”

  He glanced at it and gave a shrug. “The rain’ll wash it off.”

  A jagged lightning bolt caught their attention as it hung suspended in the sky for a moment before a crack sounded. Harriet shivered. The storm was ramping up again.

  Inside, they shrugged out of their wet coats and hung them up to dry.

  “Do you like pasta? Or I could defrost some chicken,” Harriet said as she opened the fridge.

  “Pasta sounds good. Thanks,” he answered behind her. “What can I do?”

  Harriet gathered the ingredients needed for spaghetti bolognese and handed him a cutting board with an onion and knife on it. “Do you mind? I always cry when cutting up onions.”

  He chuckled. “As long as you don’t think less o
f me when I start sobbing.”

  Desire swirled through her as his laughter wrapped around her, hearty and thick and genuine. Oh my.

  Swallowing, she turned to the stove and started boiling water.

  They chatted continuously as they worked alongside each other, browning meat and preparing the sauce. It was an easy, contented companionship. She could happily spend the rest of her evenings in just the same way.

  “I think it’s ready,” he said as he scooped some sauce onto a spoon and held it out. “Do you want to try it?”

  Harriet moved in front of him and he placed the spoon gently in her open mouth. Their eyes held as she tasted the sauce, made more flavoursome by his mere presence. “It’s delicious,” she murmured.

  His eyes dropped to her mouth.

  Her breathing became even more rapid.

  The pot behind them rattled as boiling water jiggled the lid. Tom turned to deal with it before it boiled off and Harriet took the opportunity to bite her lip. Wow. She had forgotten what it was like to be so attracted to a man. It had been such a long time.

  “Would you like some red wine with dinner?” Harriet said. “We don’t have any beer I’m sorry.” She didn’t explain it was because of Lachie’s addiction.

  “A glass of red sounds lovely.” Tom shot her a warm smile before turning to drain the pasta.

  Harriet poured the two glasses and set the table while Tom dished up the plates. “Do you have any parmesan?” he asked.

  “It’s in the fridge.”

  He retrieved the cheese and grated some into a dish while she placed the meals next to each other.

  They sipped their wine and twirled spaghetti on their forks as they reminisced about their younger years—carefree days growing up on properties before there were such things as social media and ‘helicopter parenting’.

  “My sister and I would hop on our bikes and ride down to the creek to meet up with our friends.” Harriet smiled at the memory. “As long as we were home by sundown, my parents didn’t ask any questions.

  Tom guffawed. “My kids were in high school when smartphones and Facebook became the rage. Now they can’t leave the house without announcing it online and taking photos of everything they buy or eat.”

  “Things sure have changed.” Harriet smiled, wondering if his children were more like him or their mother. Despite what he’d said, pride still etched his words.

  She watched as Tom swallowed the last of the red liquid from his glass, his Adam’s apple bobbing along his slender, stubbly throat. She reached for the bottle and offered it. “More?”

  He looked at the bottle, then at her. “Any more and I won’t be able to drive home.”

  His words wrapped around her like a promise. Her pulse quickening, she forced her gaze out the window. “It’s still pouring out there. The roads will have turned to mud by now.” She snuck a glance at him from under her lashes. “Perhaps you should stay here tonight and not risk getting stuck out there.”

  He drummed his fingers on the table as though in thought. “I don’t want to be a burden on you,” he said in a quiet, husky voice.

  “No burden at all. In fact, I’d like the company.” She topped up her own wine glass before hovering over his.

  His happy grin stretched wide. “Go on then.”

  She poured the wine before leaning back in her chair to sip from her glass. “Now tell me your plans for the property next door.”

  Chapter Eight

  Decades of early mornings had permanently altered Tom’s circadian rhythm. He opened his eyes and yawned before glancing at his watch. Yep, 5:30 a.m. on the dot.

  He rolled onto his back, the couch groaning under his weight, and stared at the ceiling. They had polished off the bottle of wine last night. And some leftover hummingbird cake. He’d come to learn that Harriet was a very talented cook and loved spending time baking and preparing meals. He knew that workers always appreciated sweet treats for smoko, especially after a big day mustering, and packet biscuits just didn’t hit the spot like something homemade. Cakes or scones baked with patience and love.

  He rolled himself up and placed his socked feet on the floor, his muscles and bones protesting. He shifted his weight and twisted, realigning his spine and hearing it crack and pop back into place. Was he finally getting too old for this life? His body seemed to think so.

  He padded quietly across the still dark room and pushed a curtain open. Outside the rain continued to fall heavily. A swimming-pool-sized puddle had formed in the garden, making the rose bushes appear to be growing out of water instead of dirt. Their bright colours contrasted vibrantly against the brown milkiness of the mud.

  In the paddocks, the top layer of soil would have been stripped away by now. The cracks would have softened and fallen in leaving mud that would eventually harden when the sun returned.

  Thank you. That’s enough for now. Come back in a week. He sent out the silent message. If the rain stopped today, grass seeds could start to germinate and, just maybe, in a few weeks the land would start to repair itself.

  Idly, Tom let himself think about the future. Maybe he could try some of that new mixed cropping and free-range grazing idea that was starting to get popular and Brian kept talking about. What was the documentary film his son had told him to watch? 2040?

  If this really was the end of the drought—and, God, he hoped it was—this could be a new start for graziers. A chance to try something new, and future proof themselves from further droughts or climate change.

  He dropped the curtain and headed for the kitchen. He’d make a cup of tea while he waited for Harriet to wake up. There would likely be animals to move today and work to be done. He hoped she would allow him to stay and help. He much preferred staying here with her to keep him company over rattling around his small place alone.

  He had just drained the last of his tea while reading the latest news on his mobile phone when Harriet entered the room. Her hair was brushed, shining strands of white that almost touched her long dark eyelashes. Lovely lines bracketed her mouth as she smiled at him. “Good morning.”

  He pushed back his chair so he could see her better. She wore denim jeans which showed off curvy legs and hips. Her baby blue checked shirt was tucked in at the waist and cinched with a dark leather belt. She looked the epitome of country style and his stomach tightened. “Morning. Hope you don’t mind; I helped myself.” He raised his mug.

  “Of course not. I’m glad you made yourself comfortable. Have you been up long?” She refilled the kettle with water before replacing it and flicking the switch.

  Tom glanced at his watch. “About half an hour. I’ve been checking the weather forecast. It’s not supposed to let up anytime soon.”

  Harriet leaned over the bench to better see outside. “Oh, my gosh. I wonder how much we’ve had. It’s flooding the yard.”

  Tom stood and walked over to join her in the kitchen. “Yeah, and it looks like it’s just going to get worse.”

  She turned worried eyes on him. “Is your offer to help move the cattle still good?”

  He ran a hand down her arm reassuringly. “Whatever you need.”

  Nodding, Harriet smiled thinly. “I should call Lachie first. See what he wants to do.”

  “I’ll make breakfast while you’re on the phone. I hope you like omelettes.”

  The look she shot him was full of gratitude and appreciation. It reached all the way to his heart and squeezed. He would do anything for that look. For that smile.

  “Thank you. You’ll find mushrooms and cheese in the fridge.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Their gazes held for a moment, until the urgent bubbling of the kettle pulled his attention away and he set to work making breakfast. He fancied himself an average cook with an average skill set. He was nowhere near as experienced or talented as Harriet, but he would do his best to make her a healthy, hearty breakfast. No doubt it would be a big day on the station and they needed to start it off right.

  “
Yes, he said he’s happy to help,” Harriet explained to Lachie on the phone. “Okay. We’ll do that now … Give Adam my best wishes.”

  She ended the call and slipped her mobile into her back pocket. She had heard the anxiety in her son’s voice. The helplessness. He needed to be at the station, but his family needed him more.

  Harriet had told him as such and when she had said Tom was willing to muster the cattle and help with flood preparation, Lachie had audibly relaxed. Well, he’d sounded a little better at least.

  Harriet stacked the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher while she waited for Tom to finish dressing. She had given him some of Lachie’s work clothes to wear. As handsome as he was in last night’s attire, it wasn’t practical for a hard day’s work, especially in the pouring rain. Fortunately he and Lachie were close enough in size, even if Tom was a few inches shorter.

  The breakfast he had made for them had been delicious, oozing cheese—just the way she liked her omelettes. Daniel had never cooked a meal, citing it as women’s work. Remembering his old-fashioned views and chauvinism, Harriet shook her head. How had she coped with it so long?

  Tom came in then, looking comfortable and more at ease in blue work pants and a khaki shirt. Harriet gave him an approving nod.

  “Did you speak to Lachie?” he asked as he folded the long sleeves up his forearms.

  “Yes, I just got off the phone. He said thank you and can we move the cattle closer to the house. We’ll also need to bring the cottonseed feeder up with the tractor.”

  He nodded in reply. “It might be too boggy to bring the feeder. We’ll see when we get out there.”

  “I think we still have some hay in the shed.”

  “Good. How is Abbie’s dad?” His face softened.

  Harriet remembered the worry in her son’s voice. “It looks like he has atrial fibrillation—an abnormal heart rhythm. They have it under control now, but are keeping him in for a few days to run some more tests.”

  “So not a heart attack?”