In Her Husband's Image

Besides, she had to stand on her own two feet. Somehow. She’d never asked or expected her father to help her, and to accept help from Zac would be the first step to admitting defeat.

“How did the bore get damaged?” Zac turned to Vince as if the matter was settled.

Vince stuck his thumbs in his leather belt. “Looks like someone dropped a metal tool down the shaft and it’s jammed up the works. As if we don’t have enough problems. We badly need a few extra bores, but I guess we’ll have to forget about gettin’ those till Boomerang Bore’s fixed.”

He shook his head, making Rachel feel personally responsible. Everything’s falling apart since Adrian’s death, he might as well have added.

“Any idea who’s responsible?” Zac asked.

Vince shrugged. “Whoever did it covered up his tracks too well. Could’ve been anybody.” He looked hard at Zac before raising his beer glass and taking a long swig.

Rachel’s heart stopped. Surely Vince didn’t suspect Zac? He’d only arrived today. Unless he’d come back earlier and kept out of sight until now. She felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. Could Zac have flown into a nearby airstrip, borrowed a vehicle and made nightly excursions onto the property from there? Who would know his way around Yarrah Downs better than Zac, who’d been brought up here?

Her gaze speared his, but he was examining his beer glass with frowning intent, as if pondering the question. Or avoiding her eye?

Or did he simply agree with everyone else and believe she wasn’t up to running the place? Her head stockman certainly had his doubts.

“Yeah, pity the damage to Boomerang Bore has wrecked any chance of puttin’ in brand new bores,” Vince muttered, his brooding gaze still fixed to Zac’s face.

Rachel’s arm jerked, spilling the drink in her hand. Was Vince now trying to inveigle her brother-in-law into paying for a couple of additional bores?

Her eyes flashed a warning—to Zac as much as to Vince. “Try having more faith in me, Vince,” she snapped, and switched the subject. “What’s Danny been doing today? Where is he?”

Vince took a gulp of his beer. “He’s been out checking the fences. He’s not back yet, but he’s been in contact by radio.”

They all used radios because cell phones had poor reception out here. Only Danny possessed one of the powerful new satellite phones. His parents had given it to him, to keep in touch with them.

“There’s more bad news, I’m afraid,” Vince muttered. “Or it could’ve been.”

Her brow knitted. “What do you mean?” she asked, her spirits dipping.

“Danny found a fence post knocked down near Michael’s Gap and a big hole in the fence. He assumed it had been done by cattle until he found that someone had deliberately cut the fence wires.”

Oh, no. A silent moan rose in her throat. “Cut them? Deliberately?” Who was doing this to her?

“Luckily Danny thinks only a few cattle have wandered into the next paddock—where there’s no water, by the way, so it shouldn’t be too hard to round them up in the morning. Jo and I’ll go and help him. In the meantime he’s staying up there till he’s mended the fence.”

Rachel felt a suffocating sensation; she was possibly in the same room as the culprit. She jumped up, needing to get away. Needing to take some long, deep breaths before facing them again. “I’ll serve up the dinner,” she said, and fled the room.

“Been here long, Vince?” Zac asked over Rachel’s tasty beef-curry-and-rice meal.

“About five years,” Vince said. “I started a few weeks before Adrian and Rachel got married. The previous bloke had retired. Too old for the job.”

“You mean Bazza?” Zac’s gray eyes glinted suddenly. “But you kept the old bloke on, I hope, as an odd-job man or something?” He frowned. “Where is he, by the way? I haven’t seen him around.”

“He left. I dunno where he went.” Vince looked at Rachel, who shook her head. Adrian had never mentioned anyone called Bazza.

Zac’s brow plunged, his powerful frame swelling in his chair, which suddenly seemed too small for him. “Bazza would never have left Yarrah Downs voluntarily. He would have had to have been kicked out. This has been his home for as long as I can remember.”

“Well, he must have decided to go somewhere else,” Vince muttered, “because he was gone by the time I came.”

Zac didn’t pursue the subject, but by his brooding silence, Rachel knew he was blaming his twin brother again. It wasn’t until Vince and Joanne left soon after the meal that Zac brought it up again, following her out to the kitchen with a stack of dirty plates. It had obviously been eating at him for the past hour or so.

“Did Adrian ever talk about Bazza, Rachel? Mention where he went? He had no family but us. Hell, I didn’t think even my brother would stoop to throwing Bazza out.”

Her chin jutted out. Was Zac going to blame her husband for everything? “I know nothing about him. Adrian just told me the previous head stockman was too old for the job and had left. He never told me where he’d gone, if he even knew.”

She switched on the hot-water tap, squirted detergent into the sink, and started washing the glasses. “If he was old, maybe he was sick and wanted to live in a town. He could even have died by now. I’m sure Adrian was doing what he thought best for Bazza. For Yarrah Downs.”

Zac gave a snort, at the same time grabbing a tea towel to help her. “Bazza was a tough old codger. He was never sick a day in his life. Adrian always had it in for him. But I never thought his dislike had gone this deep. To deliberately turf the old bloke out. My father told Bazza he’d always have a home here, even when he was no longer able to work.”

“We can’t afford to keep people on out of charity. We’re barely surviving ourselves.” She winced, wishing she hadn’t let that last bit slip out. She didn’t want Zac knowing just how bad things were. She plunged a dirty plate into the sudsy water and swished it with a cloth.

Zac slid a hand onto her shoulder, his fingers spreading over the bare skin at her nape. The touch was so unexpected that she flinched. Or maybe she was flinching at the memory the warmth and texture of his fingers evoked.

With a quirk of his lip, Zac let his hand drop away. “I know it must be difficult, Rachel, especially when there’s some vandal out there trying to make things even more difficult for you. But Bazza was one of the family. He belongs here. And a promise is a promise.”

Something in his voice got through to her. Zac really cared about this Bazza character. It wasn’t just pique at what his brother had done to an old family retainer.

“Look, I’ll try to find out what happened to him,” she promised. “And if he is still alive and didn’t want to leave Yarrah Downs, I’ll see if I can persuade him to come back. But he’ll have to be able to work for his keep. Do odd jobs, at least.”

“Thank you, Rachel. But I reckon he’d be more likely to listen to me than to…Adrian’s widow. He and my brother barely tolerated each other. I’ll make some inquiries myself. I want to catch up with the neighbors, anyway.”

Oh, he did, did he? Why? To let them know the prodigal brother was back in Australia, about to work on an assignment here, before he flitted off again? She gave a jerk of her shoulder. “Well, if you like. If you feel you have the time.”

How long would it take Zac to find the old man? Hours? Days? She felt herself trembling. Zac was becoming far too involved in the affairs of Yarrah Downs, when the place was her responsibility, not his. He’d asked to stay for a night or two, but it was becoming alarmingly obvious that he would never do all he wanted to do in a couple of days, or even a week.

It seemed inevitable now that he would be here for Mikey’s birthday.

“Mind if I leave you to finish up here?” She threw down the dishcloth. She had to get away from him. She had to do that thinking now. “I have some bookkeeping to catch up on.” Adrian had always insisted on doing the books, and it had taken her a while to sort out the mess he’d left. Records not kept, bills not paid. He’d been no bookkeeper. Yet he’d never asked for her help or accepted it.

“My pleasure, Rachel.” The amused glint in Zac’s silver-gray eyes unsettled her even more as she made her escape. He knew he still affected her. But did he know in what way, or how deeply? Did he wonder just what, precisely, she felt for him? Attraction? Repulsion? Desire? Suspicion?

Did she know herself?

Chapter Three

Zac rose with the misty dawn, expecting to be gone from the house before anyone else appeared, but he found Rachel already up, making coffee in the kitchen. The aroma was seductive. Rachel, damn it, looked seductive, too, even this early in the day.

Before she turned to face him, his gaze drank in the sexy curve of her hips, her suntanned slenderness, the single golden braid snaking down her back. He wanted to tear it free and feel the silky strands slide through his fingers.

He curbed the urge and damped down other more-basic urges that had plagued him since his arrival. “Coffee smells good. Mind if I join you?”

She swung round, her lips parting. No lipstick, he noted, but her mouth was pink and lush enough without it. No makeup of any kind, nothing to hide the faint shadows under her blue eyes, as if she hadn’t slept well or long enough. Had she been lying awake worrying about the problems she faced at Yarrah Downs?

Or had she been thinking about him, and cursing his return, because it brought back the humiliation of five years ago?

He wondered what else it brought back, if anything. That was what he had to find out.