When the cattle were safe in their new paddock, Harriet and Tom brought bales of hay over from the shed and spread them out for the animals to eat. Next they filled the trough with water before closing the gate behind them and walking back to the ute.
“Do you mind if we check on Hannah’s pony on the way home?” Harriet asked when they were settled inside the cab.
The windscreen was fogging up and Tom twisted a button on the dash. “Sure. Show me the way.”
It wasn’t a long drive to where Molly was being kept. The stocky brown pony’s ears twitched as they exited the vehicle and walked toward her, indicating she’d spotted them.
Hannah had become quite the cowgirl in her short time in the outback and Molly was the perfect pony for a beginner.
Molly sauntered over to them, her old age showing in the slowness of her gait and the weariness in her doleful brown eyes.
Her chocolate brown mane was plastered to her neck and her skin slick.
Harriet entered the paddock, Tom just behind her, and stroked the horse, sluicing the water from her back and rump. “Hello, old girl. How’s this rain? Haven’t seen it for a while, huh?”
Molly shook her head, spraying little balls of water on Harriet who stepped back and laughed.
Tom reached around Harriet and rubbed Molly’s long nose. The horse’s nostrils flared as she took in the new human’s smells. “Do you still ride? I remember you were horse mad as a teenager.”
Harriet smiled at the memories. “I was. During the holidays I spent all my spare time riding and going to pony club events. I haven’t been riding in years now.”
“Maybe we should go together sometime.” Tom’s voice was soft near her ear. “When the weather conditions are a bit nicer, that is.”
Harriet swallowed as anticipation swelled. “Do you plan on keeping horses at your place? We only have Molly here.”
“I was thinking of getting a couple. Maybe rehoming them for struggling stations.”
Harriet let go of Molly and turned to Tom. “Darcy does that. They are always being asked to take more. The poor creatures are practically skin and bone when they arrive.”
Tom glanced skyward at the dark clouds. Harriet had almost forgotten it was still raining.
“That might all change now with this downpour.”
He looked back at her and their gazes held. He reached out a tentative hand and stroked her cheek.
The sensations it stirred in Harriet caused her heart to somersault wildly in her chest. Then he lowered his hand to her throat, and even though the caress was gentle, it reminded her of another time she had been touched there.
When it definitely had not been gentle.
She recoiled at the memory and sprang out of Tom’s reach.
“Harriet? What’s wrong?” His voice was full of concern, his eyes assessing her.
She forced the memory from her mind. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. It’s just …”
She didn’t want to explain the real reason she had avoided a relationship with a man since Daniel’s death—the abuse and suffering she had gone through at that cruel man’s hands.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” His voice begged her to trust him. And she wanted to. But what if he hurt her like Daniel had? Deep down she knew that Tom would never yell or scream at her, that he would never hit or beat her.
What if she let herself fall in love with him and then he broke her heart?
Bruises would disappear. Bones could be reset. But her heart had been damaged once and it had never fully healed. If it happened again, she didn’t think she would ever recover.
Tom made sure not to touch her again as they spread out lucerne for Molly. As they worked, Harriet seemed oddly aloof, as though lost somewhere between the past and present.
What had happened to her? She was as skittish as a lost kitten.
She had been fine until he’d touched her. Until he was about to kiss her. Had he misread her feelings? This connection between them?
The rain continued pounding down, rivulets of water getting under his collar. Where before there had been no rain in sight, now there was no telling when it would stop.
“I’ll go see about moving the cottonseed feeder,” Tom said when they returned to the house. “It doesn’t look like this rain is easing.”
“Are you sure? It’s not too dangerous?” There was genuine concern in her eyes and voice.
“I’ll be fine. Besides, you don’t have much hay left and with all this rain the roads might get cut.”
She nodded. “Make sure you take a radio.”
“I’ve got one in the ute. My mobile’s charged too.” They reached his ute and he opened the door. “Stay inside. You don’t want to get sick.”
She returned his smile. “You stay safe. Call if you have any difficulty.”
“Righto,” he said, before climbing in, winding down the window, and leaning out to speak to her again. “I won’t be long.”
Then he started the engine and drove along the muddy road. Through the rear-vision mirror he saw Harriet sheltering at the front door, watching him drive away.
As the homestead grew smaller, he wondered about her past, then it hit him.
Her husband, Daniel. She’d already intimated that theirs hadn’t been a happy marriage. Had he hurt her? Had he done this to her—made her scared of another man’s touch?
He would have to earn her trust. Prove that he would never hurt her.
If it took the rest of his life, he would spend every day of it showing her how much he cared for her.
Because he did care.
He had never stopped.