Reid watched Nat as she strode towards him, her faded jeans caressing her hips and thighs, the soft green t-shirt shaping her body like his hands once had, an old straw cowboy hat perched on her head. For a moment he thought he’d flashed back in time, her approaching with the open smile she’d always had for him—that is until he’d pushed things and ruined everything. Except, this smile wasn’t for him, but for Tilly; Nat had her hand on her daughter’s shoulder as the young girl looked up at her, chattering away about something. They looked so happy, so right together, a family of two. For a staggering moment, he wished he was a part of that family, that it were three.
Where the hell had that thought come from? He needed to get a grip. That kiss had affected him more than he liked. He shook his head a little, ridding himself of the insane thought. He couldn’t be a husband, a dad. He could barely look after himself and he didn’t even want to think about the state of his business. There was no way he could cope with more. Could he?
No. What was he thinking?
‘Hey, Reid,’ Tilly said as she ran up to him, a bright smile on her face.
‘Hey, Tills.’
She wrapped her arms around him for a hug. His arms went around her, a strange warmth filling his chest, and he couldn’t help smiling as she leaned back and looked up at him, eyes full of trust.
‘I’m ready to learn the ropes.’
‘Good. There’s lots to do. Although we’ll have to leave Bos in the barn. He’s too old to come on the ute. He fell off last time.’
‘Oh. Did he get hurt?’ She let go of him to cup the old dog’s head, kissing him. ‘Poor Bozzy.’
‘No, he’s a tough old thing, but we don’t want to take a chance. Bos, in the barn.’ The dog stared at him with speaking eyes then turned, head hanging low, and plodded off slowly to the barn.
‘He looks sad,’ Tilly said.
Reid shook his head, chuckling. ‘He’ll get over it. Come on, the ute’s the other side of the barn. I’ve already loaded it up with the feed we’ll need.’
‘Everything okay?’ Nat asked when Tilly ran ahead of them to the ute as they rounded the barn.
He almost tripped; was she worried about him after the kiss? Or maybe she was just worried about the kiss. Like he was. He went to say as much when she said, ‘You looked strange when she hugged you. I’ll tell her not to do that if you don’t like it.’
‘No, no, it’s fine.’ Okay, so not worried about him or the kiss. She’d obviously decided to ignore what had happened between them. Fine. Good. So would he. He rubbed his fist against his chest, pulled the key for the ute out of his pocket and twirled it around his finger. Casual. Just be casual. ‘I like how open she is.’
‘She likes you and trusts you.’
‘Good. I like her too.’
She graced him with a small smile. ‘I’m glad.’ She was about to move on when he caught her arm.
‘Nat? I don’t know what happened to you, but if there’s anything I can do to help you or Tilly then let me know. If I can handle anything for you, just tell me, okay?’
‘Riding to my rescue, Reid?’ The fire in her glance made the breath catch in his chest. ‘I don’t need rescuing.’
‘I know. You never did.’
She blinked and looked down. ‘I’m not sure that’s true.’ Raising her head, she watched her daughter as she ran after the chickens who were loose in the yard, her shrieks of joy floating in the air. ‘But it’s going to be from now on.’
As they walked to the ute he was wondering if he should push more about her past, and then she was calling out to Tilly to jump in. He opened the door and Tilly climbed inside taking the middle seat then Nat got in after her daughter.
He closed the door, Nat’s scent in his nose—that tantalising fresh scent, spicy and warm, yet also sweet like strawberries in the sun. He took a deep breath, trying to fill himself with the smells of the farm, hay, horses, manure, the rust of the old plough that stood on this side of the stables, a relic of a harder time, but his attempt didn’t work. Her scent seemed to have already worked its way into his system. As had her touch. The imprint of her fingers on his chest, in his hair, the soft press of her lips against his, filling him with something more than warmth. In that moment everything that was wrong with his life dropped away and he felt like he used to feel when he made a climb and stood at the top of a mountain: for that moment, free of all human constraints, all worries, all fears and pain.
Bloody hell.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he rounded the ute, trying to wrangle his mind into not thinking about her. He couldn’t let himself feel like this, like that young, besotted boy he’d once been. He’d done so much, been through even more, and had come out the other side a much different person. The one who’d laugh at anything, who couldn’t wait to get up in the morning, who never stood still for more than a second. And Nat …
Well, she was all he remembered and more. But he’d also sensed something else—a lack in her life? A loss? She’d always been so confident, but going by what she’d said, how she’d acted, confidence was a garment she was struggling to fit into once more. It had been difficult as a teenage boy coming up against that confidence. Only his burgeoning ego had seen him make the jump over that wall. Now that lack of confidence was an even thicker wall, a mountain even, that might be impossible to climb.
He and Luke had done thirteen of the fourteen eight-thousanders. He’d scaled Everest and done the seven, going on to reach the South Pole after ascending Vinson Massif in Antarctica—they’d already trekked to the North Pole—completing the Explorers Grand Slam. But as he climbed into the ute and started it up, Tilly bouncing excitedly at his side, he knew that Nat’s past, her reluctance, everything that was stopping her from leaping at life like she’d once done, formed one mountain he shouldn’t even try to crest.
His friend’s voice echoed in his head, enticing him to remember a time when he had never denied a challenge. Even if he wanted to, could he? No, that wasn’t what he wanted.
What he could do was help her through whatever difficulty she’d found herself in. His psychologist would probably call it a superhero complex—he couldn’t turn away from someone in need of rescuing. And it certainly seemed like Nat needed rescuing from the demons of her past at least. Besides which, dealing with her problems would be easier than dealing with his own. First he had to find out what had happened to her. Asking outright didn’t seem the thing; and he’d been tempted to google after she’d mentioned ‘shooting’ for his own peace of mind but thought better of it. Maybe he could find out the real story by just asking the right questions and listening in the right way.
As the ute jerked and bumped along the paddock to the first gate, Nat said, ‘I thought we were bringing in the mob for this afternoon’s ride.’
‘We’ve got time to put out the others now, so we’ll do that first. That okay?’
‘Fine by me. You, Tilly?’
‘By me too.’
They drove in silence as they manoeuvred onto the dirt road that joined all the gates in each of the main paddocks, the creak and groan of the ute filling the space.
‘What was your favourite thing about doing your show with Luke, Reid?’ Tilly asked.
‘Tilly,’ Nat said quietly. ‘Reid might not want to talk about that.’
‘No, that’s okay. Luke was a big part of my life. I want to talk about him.’ Although, that hadn’t been true before. Most people avoided the subject and he’d been happy to let them. But for some reason he was happy to talk about Luke with Tilly and Nat. He leaned his arm against the windowsill, driving one-handed, the wind ruffling his hair. ‘I think it was the times when we sat down with the local people and listened to their stories, their histories.’
‘Yeah, I always liked that part of the show.’
He smiled. ‘Did you? I’m glad. Luke insisted on doing those segments. I was too impatient for it at first. The chase for the adrenaline made it hard for me to settle, no matter where we were. I used to pace around or check and recheck our gear or just wander around, aimless, without really looking at our surroundings let alone feeling the impact of the mysteries and the histories of where we were.’
‘What changed? You were always there with Luke in the shows I saw.’
He glanced over at Nat, surprised to hear that question from her. He’d got the impression she never watched the show. ‘Not in the first season I wasn’t,’ he said slowly before turning back to watch where he was driving. ‘Those segments were his. But yeah, there was a change.’ He pulled up at the first gate. ‘Hold on, I just need to open this.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Nat said, hopping out before he had a chance to remind her how to do it, although he needn’t have worried—she handled the latch and pulled the gate into the next paddock like a pro.
‘Leave it,’ he said through the open window as they drove forward at a crawl. ‘We’re going to have to drive the mob back through here after we’ve fed out the hay.’ Most of them would just come through anyway when they saw feed going out, but there was always the odd stray that needed a bit of geeing up to get them through the gate and into the other paddock.
Horses were already lifting their heads and trotting over in anticipation of the feed and he saw through the rear-vision mirror that some had already begun to follow them through the gate.
He was about to lean out the window again to remind her how to secure the gate so it stayed open, but she was already all over it, tying the heavy steel gate with the blue twine that was left on the fence. Impressed, he slowed down so she could catch up. She swung into the cabin with the same balletic grace that had caught his attention all those years ago and flashed him a smile, her face lightly flushed. God, she was beautiful. How could he have forgotten the impact of that smile on him?
‘So go on,’ she said, her gaze meeting his, almost in challenge. ‘You were telling us about when you joined Luke for those segments with the locals.’
He looked forward, wrists hooked over the steering wheel. ‘Oh yeah. I suppose it was just before we did the K2 climb. We were stopped at a small village for the night on the trek to Base Camp. Luke wanted to chat to the elders in the village. There was a fire pit that they sat around, sharing stories and knowledge with the villagers and visitors. Luke, as usual, told me I was an idiot for not staying and learning something from people who lived closer to nature than we ever would. He always went on about the wisdom of the land and those who worked on it and lived in it. To me, having been brought up on a farm, it just sounded like naturalist rubbish, but for some reason that night, surrounded by the shadows of the ancient mountains, I listened and heard something different.’ He gripped the steering wheel tighter, images of that night still so clear in his mind’s eye. ‘I sat and I listened to these remarkable people, learning from the lines on their faces, the smiles in their eyes, the generosity of their souls, things I’d never thought of before. There was a connection there between them and the environment they lived in. I suddenly understood what Luke had been going on about and I was disappointed with myself for having missed out all those years on one of the most important aspects of what we did. It changed things for me, made me respect the land, culture, differences. I realised as I watched the sparks fly into the sky that life was as fleeting as those sparks and that the only impact anyone could truly make that will have any significance is with how they treat others and the planet. I wanted to be like those people, kind and open-hearted and willing to open my mind to all the experiences of life.’
His words were met with silence and he glanced sideways to see both Tilly and Nat staring at him. He chuckled self-consciously, cheeks heating despite the freshness of the morning air coming through the open window. ‘Sorry, got a bit deep there.’
Nat shook her head slowly. ‘No. It was lovely. What an amazing revelation.’
His lips crooked into a smile. ‘Yeah. It was a revelation.’
‘Do you still feel that way? After all that’s happened?’
He frowned, fingers aching as he gripped the wheel tighter. He wasn’t sure. He hadn’t really thought about it in those terms before, but it was a good question. A hard one. More than he wanted to answer in any depth, so he simply said, ‘I want to … I hope so.’
They’d reached the next gate and he stopped before it. Nat was staring at him. He shifted, tapped his fingers on the wheel. ‘Are you getting this one, or am I?’
She blinked then looked forward. ‘I will. Leave it open?’
‘Yeah. We’ve got followers.’ He nodded behind them and she turned to look. The smile that bloomed on her face as she saw the mob behind them made the cold that had constricted his chest melt away to be replaced by a buzzing warmth.
‘Why are they following us?’ Tilly asked, body twisted around so she could see through the back window.
‘They want to be fed.’ Nat got out of the ute and ran to the gate, her stride as sure as ever even over the hoof-potted turf. He drove forward as she pushed the gate open and tied it to the fence, then she jumped into the back of the ute alongside the stacked hay bales. ‘We feeding all this out?’ she yelled.
‘Yes, but don’t start until we’re halfway across the paddock. I want to make sure they all come in.’
‘Sure.’
They bumped across the rough turf of the dry paddock. When they were halfway across, he yelled out the back to Nat that there was a knife in the toolbox at the front of the tray, but she was already deftly cutting the tough baling twine with it. She straddled the bale, dug her hands into it to loosen the tightly packed hay, and then began to feed it out in big clumps. Her ponytail swung heavily over her shoulder as hay rose around her, little strands sticking in the thick mass. Her t-shirt rode up a little as she worked giving him a glimpse of her slightly rounded stomach. She leaned over and he couldn’t help admiring her bottom, encased in her jeans that looked like they’d be soft to the touch. He shifted uncomfortably on the seat.
Tilly had moved onto her knees so she could see more through the back window. He shifted again, thankful for her presence and the bucket of cold water it represented to his over-eager system. ‘She’s cut the baling twine we use to keep the hay bale together and is now feeding out the hay to the horses. See, the horses who followed us are already eating and the rest should notice and follow pretty quickly.’
‘What do you do if they don’t?’
‘We’ll ride herd on them.’ Her confused look made him laugh. ‘Sorry. I should stop using farm-speak.’
‘No, I want to know. If I’m going to live here, I need to know this stuff, right?’
‘Very true.’ And a very mature and astute statement for her age. He’d have to be careful around her, that was for certain, because there was no knowing what she might pick up. ‘Okay, what I mean is we’ll chase them down in the ute and herd them towards the gate. Worse comes to worst, we’ve got oats in the back and we can entice them with that if they’re not interested in the hay your mum’s feeding out. But most of the horses know the routine and there shouldn’t be any trouble getting them into the paddock to eat and rest. It’s getting the ones to come in that we want for the ride this afternoon that can prove a challenge. Most of the horses like the work and come happily enough, but some are just cantankerous and stubborn and we might have to chase them in.’
‘Does that hurt them?’
‘No. We’d never hurt our horses. They’re our partners in this business and we treat them with care and respect. We feed them well, check them over after every ride and give them a wash, not just a brush down, we rotate them so that they’re not on the trail all the time and get a good mix of exercise and rest. They get all their shots and are flea- and tick-treated and we have our own farrier who does regular checks on their shoes and hoof health. We check all of our tack every week to make sure it’s not going to rub or cause any issues and if the horses are hurt or have a bruised back from someone riding them too hard, or if they get gall, then we rest them up until they’re well.’
He slowed the ute, having seen in the rear-vision mirror that Nat had finished feeding out the bales of hay and was ready to jump down.
‘They’re all in,’ she said, pointing to the last stragglers coming through the gate heading towards the food as she swung back onto the bench seat next to Tilly. ‘Where to next?’
‘We’ll close the gate to keep them in and then go to get the fresh lot.’
‘Okay.’
Moments later after the gates were secured and they were on their way down the sloping track to the bottom of the creek paddock, he looked across Tilly’s head at Nat. She sat comfortably, smiling widely as she looked out towards the horses and the view. Her arm rested against the open windowsill and she rocked from side to side with the movement of the ute, her hair blowing in the breeze, tangling across her neck and shoulders. His fingers tingled, remembering the feel of those silken strands.
He sighed, looked forward, but moments later found himself glancing at her again. She was completely at home; like she’d never been away. She’d always seemed to belong here, which had made it so surprising when she’d gone away and stayed away; whereas he had always longed to get away and so nobody was shocked when he had taken the first opportunity offered to him.
She turned her head and their eyes caught: the expression across her face made his breath hitch in his throat. But before he could revel in it, it was gone.
‘So, what were you and Reid talking about while I was feeding out the hay?’ She smiled down at Tilly.
‘He was telling me about how you look after the horses.’
‘Was he? What did he say?’
‘About feeding them and resting them and washing them and checking things and the gore.’
‘Gore?’ Nat’s brow furrowed as she glanced up at him.
‘I think she means gall.’
‘Oh.’
‘You know what that is, Mum?’
‘Of course.’
‘Really?’ Tilly’s expression added to her disbelief.
‘I did used to live here, Tilly.’
‘Yeah, but you never mentioned you looked after the horses, just that you rode them and helped with the camps. I thought that meant you looked after the kids.’
Nat ran her hand over Tilly’s head. ‘I worked here as well as lived here, so I did a bit of everything. Even did some cooking in the kitchen.’
Tilly’s eyes widened. ‘Really? But you hate cooking.’
Nat shrugged. ‘I didn’t used to.’
‘Your mum is a great cook, especially Italian food. I remember the spaghetti puttanesca she used to make, and her lasagne … It was to die for.’
Tilly frowned. ‘Daddy didn’t like Italian. He said the carbs were bad. He bought Mum a paleo cookbook and she had to cook stuff from that.’ She screwed her nose up. ‘It was a bit boring, but Daddy liked it.’
He wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. It didn’t sound like the Nat he knew at all. But maybe she’d agreed with him. Although, the pinched expression on Nat’s face as she stared ahead said she probably hadn’t.
‘So, what’s a gall?’
He almost laughed at the abrupt change of topic but schooled his face when he saw Tilly’s expression. ‘They’re a kind of sore.’
‘How do they get the sores?’
‘Nat, do you want to take this one?’
Nat crossed her arms, putting on a studious air. ‘There are a few ways horses get gall. One: if they’re not rubbed down properly. Two: if the leather or material of the girth is too hard or dirty it can rub. Three: if they’re out for day rides, sweat and dust or mud can get up under the saddle or girth causing an irritant and rubbing. Putting sheepskin on the girth strap helps to stop them. If they do get them, the sheepskin and rubbing a lanolin-type cream into the sore helps heal them, but mostly, they need to be given a good wash, treated with antiseptic cream then rested.’
‘Is that right?’ Tilly asked Reid as if she didn’t believe a word her mother said.
‘Sure is. What your mother didn’t say was that on the camps each kid looks after their own horse and sometimes they don’t do the job properly. We usually check to make sure everything’s been done right but sometimes we can miss a horse.’ He leaned sideways, his face down near hers. ‘But you’re not going to let that happen are you, Tilly? You’re going to look after your horse so it doesn’t get sores, aren’t you?’
Looking very solemn, she nodded. ‘There won’t be any galls on my horse.’
‘Ariel will be glad to hear that. Here we are.’
Nat hopped out again, opened the gate but didn’t close it. Then she climbed up into the bed of the ute, digging her hand into the bag of hash, ready to bribe the horses to follow the ute.
‘What’s Mum doing?’
‘She’s feeding out some hash—a mix of oats and hay and other things the horses like. It helps to attract them—greedy things are always hungry. We’ll do a circuit of the paddock, trying to drive the horses towards the gate. As I said, they’re pretty used to the routine, but there are always a few stubborn ones that need bribing or a bit of geeing up.’
‘And Mum really knows how to do this stuff?’
Reid looked over his shoulder as he moved the ute along the fence line behind the main herd of horses. ‘She taught me.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. She was great at this stuff. She loved being out with the horses and doing the work. She was one of our best staff. Always ready to jump in and help, never afraid to get her hands dirty.’
‘You are talking about my mum, aren’t you?’
He chuckled, ruffling her hair. ‘Don’t you believe me?’
She shrugged a shoulder. ‘Mummy didn’t get her hands dirty doing anything. She used to garden, but then she stopped doing even that. Daddy didn’t like her having dirt under her fingernails. Dirtiness and mess upset him.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Yeah.’
The light left Tilly’s eyes and she stared down at her lap, fingers winding tightly together. ‘He got angry and shot Mummy and another man then killed himself. They said he was sick with PTSD, which he got when he fought in Afghanistan and got injured there. He lost his leg but they gave him a prosthetic, so he could walk.’ Her brow furrowed as she said the words slowly as if determined to get them right. ‘He was so sad though and then he’d have his episodes and it was so scary. He hurt himself and hurt Mum sometimes too. Mum thought I didn’t know, but I did. I saw the bandages. And kids at school talked.’
Hell, what did he say to that? He’d imagined some stuff, but nothing close to this. ‘I’m so sorry, Tilly. You must be sad.’
‘I was, but Mummy says he’s in peace now, so I’m glad about that. And I’m glad he can’t hurt himself or Mummy anymore.’ She frowned, her chin wobbling. ‘Although, I still miss him sometimes.’
‘Of course you do.’ He put his arm around her, but she didn’t cry, just looked up at him, stoic like her mum. ‘You know, I lost a parent too when I was a kid.’
‘You did?’
‘Yeah. My mum. She was killed in a car accident. I still miss her.’
‘How old were you when she died?’
‘Six. My dad started sending me here when he couldn’t cope and then by the time I was eight, that was all the time so I came to live here for good.’ He looked around. ‘This place, my gran, Flynn and your mum, helped me to feel happy again.’ She’d put her hand on his arm, as if to comfort him. ‘It’s important to have people to talk to.’
‘If you ever feel sad about it, you can come and talk to me if you want.’
She smiled up at him. ‘I’d like that.’
Reid felt his heart break a little and had the odd need to punch something. No wonder Natalia had dropped everything and come across to the other side of the country, back to the place she’d not thought of for ten years.
‘I’m glad Mummy brought us here.’
‘So am I.’ He gripped the steering wheel tightly and looked back over his shoulder again. Nat was smiling widely as the horses trotted along behind her, coming after the hash she held out. Tilly followed his gaze.
‘It’s working. All of them are following.’
He swallowed against emotion caught in his throat, determined to make his voice sound normal for this brave little girl. ‘They all must be ready to go out for a ride.’
‘Yeah.’ Tilly bounced on the seat beside him. ‘You sure I’m ready to go out on a ride?’
‘More than ready. You’re a natural.’
‘I am?’ She beamed up at him, her hazel eyes shining. Warmth filled his chest where there had been a hollow nothing for so long as he looked down at her face, so like her mum’s but so totally different at the same time. He couldn’t remember ever having seen a photo of Nat’s husband, but the man must have been a handsome bastard, because Tilly was just gorgeous and enough unlike her mother to know that was in part due to her father’s genes.
‘You are.’ He ruffled her hair, astonished by how paternal he was feeling. Clearing his throat, he glanced behind them. ‘Okay, I think they’re all through.’
‘Oh, look. A few have dropped back. They look like they’re going to go back through the gate.’
‘No, they’re not. Hold on,’ he called out through the window and swung the wheel, flooring the ute so it bumped back down the slope to come between the recalcitrant horses and the gate. Tilly whooped beside him and Nat’s laughter echoed like birdsong through the open window. He came to a screeching stop before the gate, opened his door and jumped out. ‘Hah!’ he yelled out, clapping his hands to send the horses back towards the herd ambling up the track. Behind him, the gate groaned and then clanked and he glanced over his shoulder to see Nat had jumped off the ute tray and was closing the gate. The horses took off across the paddock—not towards the herd meandering up the track towards the gate at the peak of the hill that led to the corral paddock but to the opposite side. ‘Looks like we’re in for a chase,’ he called out to Nat.
‘Heeyah!’ she called back and ran to the ute.
He jumped back in and floored it the moment she was in. ‘Hold on to the dash, Tilly,’ he said. ‘This is going to be a bumpy ride.’
They chased after the horses, Tilly’s wild laughter singing in the air, Nat hanging out of the window as they rounded the front of the horses, clapping her hands and calling out ‘Hah!’ to them. They wheeled and headed back the way they’d come. Reid drove the ute behind them, making sure they didn’t try to double back.
‘Is this herding them?’
‘Sure is.’
‘It’s fun.’
‘Yes, it is.’ He’d forgotten about the fun part. Or perhaps it was more fun because Nat and Tilly were here. Whatever the reason, he felt like laughing. True laughter, not the kind he’d been forcing himself to do because people were worried about him. He let it bubble up and out. It felt bloody good.
They drove the two horses to the herd. A few of them had slowed down—Speedy, not living up to his name, as per usual, was dropping well behind the others. Leaning out the window, he drove up beside the slowpoke, and called out ‘heya!’ while slapping his creamy-coloured hide. The gelding nickered in protest but burst forward into a canter, heading straight to the open gate, passing the horses that were still meandering through. ‘That’ll do it,’ he said, slipping back inside the cab.
Tilly laughed as the last few horses began to canter in front of them up the track to the gate. Reid encouraged her to lean over and press the horn. At the sound all the horses began to trot and canter through the gate and across the next paddock.
‘They’re heading straight to the other gate!’ Tilly exclaimed.
‘They might be stubborn but they’re not stupid. They know where they’re going. But you can help them to keep going.’
‘How?’
‘Call out the window like I did and clap your hands together. Swap places with your mum.’
‘Can I?’ she asked her mum, eyes bright.
‘Sure.’ Nat slid across, helping Tilly to climb over her lap, and then laughed as her daughter hung her head out the window, yelling out to the horses and clapping her hands. ‘That’s it, Tilly. Beautiful job.’
Nat’s leg pushed up against his as she leaned towards Tilly, encouraging her. Reid swallowed hard against the shock of awareness buzzing up from that point of contact. He gripped the wheel tighter and followed the herd, only able to breathe easy when they stopped again, so Nat could climb out and close the next gate. He couldn’t take her sitting so close again. ‘Here, Tilly, why don’t you honk the horn. That will get them going too.’
Tilly slid back across the bench seat to sit beside him and honked the horn the moment her mum was back in the cabin.
The dirt tracks running from one gate to the next gave evidence of the daily passage of horses across this paddock. Tilly squealed happily as Reid hit the accelerator, speeding up behind the cantering herd. She bobbled around on the seat, honking and yelling out the window just as Reid had done if any of the horses slowed up.