The Silver Creek Read online

  No dogs barked and no sensor lights welcomed him as he headed for the kitchen door. Once inside, instead of the aroma of his mother’s home-cooked meals, he caught the now familiar smell of an overcooked pan-fried steak.

  At the living room door he paused to roll his tight shoulders. The noise blaring from the television guaranteed that having any conversation in a normal speaking tone would be impossible. His father should have had hearing aids fitted years ago but had again disregarded expert advice. The news he needed to break to him would have to wait until tomorrow when they were out in the quiet of the paddocks.

  He walked through the doorway. A single tall lamp cast light over the large-framed man sitting in a leather recliner, a half-empty bottle of red wine beside him. ‘Hi, Dad.’

  His father gave him a quick narrowed-eyed look. ‘Your mother okay?’

  He nodded.

  His father grunted and focused on the television screen in front of him.

  Mac raised his voice above the screech of tyres that emanated from the surround-sound speakers. ‘Need anything?’

  His father shook his head. It wasn’t Mac’s imagination that his grey hair had thinned and whitened since his mother had left.

  Mac turned to leave. That’s all he’d get from his father tonight. When he returned in the morning he’d check the fridge and pantry so he knew what groceries to pick up when in town.

  ‘Back with Bethany yet?’

  Mac tried and failed to stop himself from stiffening as he slowly faced his father.

  ‘No.’ The single world was all he could manage without his hands clenching.

  ‘You’d better hurry up.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘I need you to settle down.’

  Mac didn’t hide his frown. ‘Settle down?’

  ‘Yes. I’m not leaving you part of Glenelg until you’re settled with Bethany.’

  Mac crossed the room in three swift strides and used the remote control to mute the sound of the television. ‘Can you say that again? Because I couldn’t have heard you right.’

  His father’s grey, whiskered chin jutted. ‘Make things right with Bethany.’

  He was the slow-burn, the rational and the measured twin. In that moment it didn’t matter. Anger pounded at his temples. Words jammed in his chest. He could fully understand why Bethany felt that her life wasn’t her own. If it wasn’t enough that his father and Edna had come between them, his father continued to bulldoze them together. ‘Or …?’

  ‘Or nothing changes. My father and my grandfather had the rule, Glenelg can’t be passed on until the next generation have shown commitment.’

  Mac briefly closed his eyes. He shouldn’t be surprised. He’d known the years that he and Finn had toiled on the property they loved counted for nothing. Hard didn’t come close to describing his rigid and emotionless father.

  But what gutted him the most was the sick feeling at the pit of his stomach. His father’s ultimatum extinguished any possibility that he and Bethany could have a second chance. Not only did he refuse to be manipulated, Bethany would feel that the connection between them had been engineered and tainted even more.

  He opened his eyes with a heavy sigh. This wasn’t only about him and Bethany.

  ‘Dad, I know you’re missing Mum and worried about her but using us like chess pieces isn’t going to get what you want or stop you from admitting you’re wrong.’ He held up a hand as his father went to speak. ‘I’m not continuing this now. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  Shoulders locked, he strode from the living room and outside into the starless and bleak night. The too-loud noise of the television followed.

  Chapter Two

  ‘Are you sure you don’t need me to help you move the cattle?’ Bethany asked her father as she spread peanut butter on her toast.

  Her mother had left in a flurry of activity to have breakfast in town and a quiet calm had descended over the farmhouse kitchen.

  ‘No, you go and look at the cottage.’ Her father glanced up from checking the weather on his phone. ‘I take it you haven’t mentioned anything about moving out to your mother?’

  Bethany shook her head, using her mouthful of toast as an excuse not to answer. It wasn’t as though she wouldn’t tell her. She’d just grown up having a closer relationship with her father. He was the first person she’d spoken to when she’d realised that what lay between her and Mac had been real.

  A rush of loss hit her and the toast lodged in her throat. She took a gulp of juice and avoided her father’s perceptive gaze. ‘I will when I have somewhere to live.’

  ‘I’ll miss you.’

  ‘I’ll miss you too but I’ll be here working every day.’

  Her father pushed back his chair, his attention still on her face. ‘It’s also not like you’re going back to the city.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Her answer appeared to satisfy him and he ruffled her loose hair as he walked past just like he’d done since she was a kid. ‘Fingers crossed the cottage works out.’ He placed his mug and plate in the dishwasher. ‘Hopefully whoever your landlord or landlady is will be reasonable.’

  Toast finished, Bethany came to her feet. The identity of the new owner of the Windella farm continued to be a mystery. The fact that her mother, who always had her finger on the town’s pulse, didn’t know suggested they had to be out-of-towners. ‘I’m sure they will be. The rent’s good and they’ve included use of the stables.’

  She completed a short list of jobs before making her way outside to cross the frost-burned lawn. The icy wind toyed with her hair and she huddled deeper into her coat. Over in the small paddock behind the rubber-wrapped round yard, Echo lifted his head. She’d left the grey gelding’s rug on when she’d fed him earlier and he appeared a bright splash of blue against the muted winter tones.

  He whickered as she approached.

  ‘Sorry buddy.’ She ran her hand over his dappled velvet-soft neck. ‘There’s been a change in plans. We’ll help Dad later.’

  Echo angled his head so she could scratch under his jaw. She breathed in his comforting horsey scent. ‘I’ll be back soon to give you a full report on what the stables are like.’

  Then, careful to not look at the modern stable complex her father had constructed at the height of her horse riding days, she headed to where the farm Hilux was parked in the car port. Her stylish but impractical city car had been relegated to gathering dust in the garage.

  It wasn’t just her need for independence that urged her to move out but also the bittersweet tug of memories. The farmhouse kitchen held echoes of Mac’s deep laughter as he’d joked with her father over a coffee when her mother had been in town. While the stables reminded her of the warm weight of Mac’s arm around her and the heat in his touch as they’d stolen alone time. Still not looking to her left, she slid into the driver’s seat of the battered Hilux. The stables had also been where they’d shared their first kiss.

  When the stable complex no longer filled her rear-view mirror, she relaxed and took in her surroundings. A flock of galahs soared and then dipped behind the gum trees that lined the arrow-straight driveway. Beyond the mottled trunks she glimpsed red-and-white patches of her father’s shorthorn cattle. Once through the ornate steel gates her mother had insisted on installing after Mrs Knox had revamped the entrance to her farm, she turned onto the bitumen.

  Whenever an oncoming vehicle approached she returned the driver’s wave. Her city school friends had never believed her when she’d said that on bush roads strangers acknowledged each other. She waved again as an unfamiliar red sedan sped by.

  Even in the dull light of an overcast day the rural tranquillity reaffirmed to her that she’d made the correct decision to not return to Sydney. On her right meandered the Bell River, while on her left gentle hills rolled until they reached the distant carved ridge. Every so often she’d pass a windmill that stood stoic and tall amongst the grazing sheep and cattle. There was a reason why Woodlea was kn
own as the town of windmills.

  Her focus on the spinning blades of a windmill that had been yarn-bombed in red, white and green wool, she didn’t pay attention to the oncoming car until too late. Her hand had already lifted in a wave before her brain registered that the graphite-grey Hilux was Mac’s. Heart in her throat, she waited to see if he’d return her gesture. As if in slow motion their vehicles met.

  She caught a glimpse of his grave face before he waved. Such a simple action shouldn’t flood her with relief or longing. Chest tight, she glanced at her phone where it rested in her open bag on the passenger seat. If things weren’t so raw between them, they’d have used Bluetooth to call each other. She checked her mirrors. Or one of them would have done a U-turn and they’d have pulled over for a catch-up. As she watched, his vehicle didn’t lose speed as it headed towards town.

  She pressed her lips together to silence her pain. This was how things had to be. If she wanted to again be a part of Mac’s life, she had to become her own person. It was the only way their relationship could be built on stability and certainty. Her foot pressed harder on the accelerator. To step out of her mother’s shadow she first needed somewhere new to live.

  When she reached Dripping Rock Road, she turned and continued until she saw a real estate sign featuring a large ‘sold’ sticker. A tangled rose rambled over a wooden fence that flanked an open farm gate. After a good prune, the flowers would be stunning in the spring. Her gaze lingered. She could only hope this was where she’d be living when the rose bush burst into bloom.

  The ute rattled as she drove over the cattle grid. To her left the extensive roofline of a brick building indicated she was passing the main farmhouse. While the blonde colour of the bricks and the wooden panelling above the garage were dated, the house appeared to be well built. The large expanse of lawn, garden beds and established trees, many of which were deciduous, reinforced the impression that the house had once been someone’s family home.

  A sizable set of stables, a dressage arena and a round yard loomed to her left before the dirt road narrowed and led towards a weatherboard cottage. She didn’t know that she was smiling until she parked beside a blue sedan in front of a small, rusted gate. It didn’t matter if the cottage and overgrown garden looked like they needed a little love, everything was perfect.

  A well-dressed young woman left the car beside her. Bethany opened the ute door and erased all emotion from her face. It was safer to assume her default expression than to appear too friendly. As expected, Sharon from the Woodlea real estate office greeted her with a professional smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

  ‘Morning.’ Sharon glanced along the driveway. ‘Your mother isn’t coming?’

  Bethany shook her head.

  Sharon’s tight smile relaxed a little. ‘Let’s get started, shall we?’

  She followed the real estate agent through the gate that creaked as it opened and along a paved path that needed the ragged lawn clipped away from the edges.

  As she walked up the two front steps she only half listened to Sharon’s spiel about what features the cottage offered. She glimpsed a reverse-cycle air conditioner in the small living room and an open fireplace. She then assessed the minute but functional kitchen and the clean but outdated bathroom before gazing through the sliding door that opened onto a narrow wooden deck.

  ‘Why don’t you spend some time having a good look around?’ The note of hesitation in Sharon’s words said she wasn’t hopeful that Bethany would see past the dated interior and poky rooms.

  Bethany didn’t reply. Emotion blindsided her, making her throat ache. She didn’t need anything fancy, big or new. She just wanted a home of her own. And she just wanted Mac.

  ‘I’ve seen enough.’ She didn’t look away from the view through the glass of the sliding door. A creek gully wound its peaceful way through the undulating hills. The white of cockatoos’ wings flashed in the treetops and she caught the silver sheen of water. ‘I’ll take it.’

  *

  Mac silenced a groan as he bent to set the bowl of dog food in front of Finn’s tan kelpie, Spud. Despite a long and hot shower, his muscles weren’t impressed they’d had to work so hard this afternoon on the rugby field. He straightened to rub at his lower back.

  Usually it was Finn who put his body on the line but the past month, and especially today, he’d been in as much of the action as his twin. It had been bad enough yesterday when Finn had mentioned he’d bumped into Bethany in town and then this morning Mac had passed her on the road. His restlessness had needed a physical outlet.

  But while his teammates might have slapped his back when he’d thrown himself across the line for the final try, Finn’s slow shake of his head confirmed he saw through Mac’s apparent team spirit.

  He walked over to his own working dog, Mitch. The kelpie cocked his head as he took his time to set his food bowl on the ground. ‘Tell me about it, mate. I’m moving slower than that turtle you found last spring.’

  With the dogs fed, he headed to the feed shed for the horses’ hay. There’d been no time today but he’d make sure he took his young chestnut out tomorrow. Well, that’s if he could move. The nervous green-broke gelding had come a long way from the flighty horse he’d taken to Tanner’s horsemanship clinic but he still needed regular riding.

  Ignoring the twinges in his back, he hauled a fresh bale of hay onto the shed floor as the memories he’d worked so hard to suppress broke free. It was at the autumn horsemanship clinic that Edna had come close to catching him and Bethany together. Except Edna’s aversion to Bethany having anything to do with him, or his family, had been manufactured. From the beginning, she’d played on the fact that Bethany went out of her way to date men she didn’t approve of. And there’d been no one she’d disapproved of more than him, even Finn.

  He slipped a pocket knife out of the pouch on his belt and sliced the blue baling twine holding the hay together. The only positive thing to come out of him and Bethany breaking up was that Edna had backed off. He now needed his father to do the same. Except since their terse conversation two days ago, any attempt to discuss his Bethany ultimatum in a rational way had failed. Instead a cold silence existed between them. Such a status quo wouldn’t also be changing anytime soon. He might take after his quiet mother, but when it came to stubbornness and refusing to back down he was his father’s son. As for the other serious conversation he needed to have with his father, that would have to wait.

  He fed the horses and checked their rugs were in place before returning inside. He didn’t feel like heading out again but he’d promised Finn he’d come to the Royal Arms. After a quick change into a blue cotton shirt and jeans, he grabbed his keys and wallet from the kitchen bench. After rugby Finn had stayed in town and would already have a few beers under his belt. Their mother would also call later to ask how his catch-up drink with Denham went. Even though his need to see Bethany now bordered on desperation, at least she wouldn’t be there. He shrugged on a coat as he walked through the front door. It wasn’t her thing to hang out at the pub on a Saturday night.

  The dust of the driveway had only just settled behind him when his phone rang. Tanner’s name appeared on the screen. Mac had earlier missed a call from the horse trainer, as well as several others. He’d listen to his voicemail when he was in town and had better signal.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, answering Tanner’s call via Bluetooth as he kept watch on a black-faced wallaby poised at the edge of the gravel.

  ‘How’d you pull up?’

  ‘Good.’ The wallaby bounded into the scrub and he flicked on his indicator to turn onto the bitumen road. ‘All things considered.’

  ‘I don’t know how you could be. You took a massive hit from that prop. I thought you’d be seeing stars as well as Dr Fliss.’

  Fliss had been a couple of years ahead of him and Finn at school and even then her no-nonsense attitude had been legendary. Now engaged to pickup rider Hewitt she had mellowed, but not when it came to anything medical.
‘I did as well. You should have seen the sympathy on Hugh Mason’s face.’

  Tanner’s laughter sounded. ‘Dr Fliss’s only just let him back on the rugby field after his last concussion.’

  The phone line crackled as Mac entered an area of patchy reception. ‘You still in town?’

  ‘That’s why I’m calling. I’m heading home. We’ll have to have a raincheck on that drink.’

  ‘No worries.’

  ‘Denham and Hewitt are still at the pub and a word of warning, Finn’s in for a big night. He’s eyeing off the dance floor.’

  Mac groaned. His twin’s dancing either made him the centre of attention or earned him a week off work with a bad back. ‘I take it there’s some out-of-towners?’

  ‘Yes, several, and they are all of the blonde, cute and giggly kind.’

  ‘Wish me luck getting him home.’

  ‘Rather you than me. Finn’s record for leaving the pub last is unbeatable.’

  ‘Technically that record’s mine as I’m the one following him out the door to drive home.’

  ‘He’s lucky you have his back.’

  Once loneliness would have hollowed Tanner’s words but now that all the pieces of his life had come together in Woodlea, Mac only heard amusement.

  ‘So I keep reminding him. Say hi to Neve for me.’

  ‘Will do. See you next week.’

  Mac ended the call. Silence filled the ute cabin. He dragged a hand through his hair and grimaced when the simple movement caused his arm to ache. One thing was for sure—he wouldn’t be busting any moves on any dance floor.

  By the time he reached the town limits, the pale wash of night had become a dark blanket. Lights twinkled as houses replaced the empty space of rolling paddocks. The rugby sportsground surrounded by a white picket fence was now deserted and the main street was the place to be. It was no surprise Finn’s dusty ute was front and centre out the front of the Royal Arms.

  Mac parked outside the coffee shop and, shoulders braced, strode towards the two-storey building trimmed with wrought iron. From the volume of the conversation and music it wasn’t just Finn out to have a good time. The noise hit him as much as the heat as he pushed through the pub doors.