First Step

First Step by Giulietta Jones

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. First Step COPYRIGHT © 2007 by Giulietta Jones All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Contact Information: [email protected] Cover Art by Nicola Martinez The Wild Rose Press PO Box 706 Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706 Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com Publishing History First Sweetheart Rose Edition, 2008 Published in the United States of America

Glare. Flies. Punishing heat. The relentless advance of Australian summer took its daily toll on the outback community. Already parched from years of dry weather, Coffer’s Ridge sweltered in the noon sun. Hot enough to mistake the place for an oven, Natalie Jones blotted beads of perspiration from her face with a tissue. As the new regional agricultural officer, she’d simply have to learn to like heat, flies and glare. People were the challenge. This one in particular. She attempted once again to get the man to speak. “You run cattle on your property?” she asked the tall stranger towering over her. He nodded. Soberly. As if the subject pained him. She realized many of the region’s landowners were reduced to plowing withered crops back into the ground and shooting their livestock to spare the animals the slow agony of death by thirst and starvation. Embarrassed by the insensitivity of her question, she searched her mind for a more cheerful topic. “Ray tells me,” she smiled at the old man beside her, “there’s going to be a barbecue here next month. To celebrate Christmas. Sounds like fun. Will you be joining us in town for that, Mr. Savage?” Jack Savage shifted his weight from one long leg to the other. Encased in denim moleskin trousers and a plain cotton work shirt, his large, lean frame occupied most of her field of view. She had to crane her neck waiting for his answer. The blue-eyed and sun-browned man rotated his wide-brimmed hat between his fists, cleared his throat, leaned back on his heels and then shifted his weight forward to favor the other foot. The motion made his leather boots creak and threw reflected sunlight off his metal belt buckle. Big, tough and uncommunicative, Savage resembled one of the giant coolabah trees in the distance. The shadow he cast sloped almost as far. 1

Giulietta Jones Having considered her question, he shook his head. His action slow, deliberate. Honestly, how could she become acquainted with the area and its residents if the most influential, the owner of the largest property in the entire region, wouldn’t speak to her? Natalie turned to the old-timer who’d been the first to welcome her to Coffer’s Ridge and who’d nominated himself as her guide and mentor. Ray Crawford might be the town character and prone to exaggeration, but his heart of gold couldn’t be doubted. “What do you think, Ray?” She touched his elbow with a light fingertip, trying to bring him into the conversation. In spite of a tendency to let his imagination stretch fact into fantasy, Ray’s gap-toothed grin could charm a mean-tempered goanna into submission, so perhaps the elderly man could persuade his young pal Mr. Savage to relax and open up a tad. The thought gave Natalie hope. She forced more enthusiasm into her voice. “Doesn’t the barbecue sound like fun? A chance for everyone to catch up with old friends and make new ones?” Ray frowned, seeming to be lost in thought. “Reckon.” Jack Savage said nothing. Frustrated, Natalie expelled a short breath. “Well, I must get to work.” Accepting defeat, she gave both men a polite smile. “See you later, Ray. Nice to meet you, Mr. Savage.” She paused a moment to allow them to delay her departure if they wished, but neither man did. “So much for introducing myself to the prime mover and shaker outside this little burg,” she muttered to herself while she marched along the wide dusty trail that was the town’s main street and, during crisis, a runway for emergency aircraft. “At least local geography’s easy. One pub, one store, four houses, a gas station which could be a freelance tattoo parlor, the auction yard which doubles as church, fire bell, beauty salon and tetanus clinic, and my very own, tiny, hole-in-the-wall office. Complete with bunk bed and shower tank at the back.” She stopped to give her lungs a break from the heavy air. After a minute of panting and perspiring, she proceeded down the dirt road determined to lift her spirits 2

First Step with reminders of how many benefits her new job in Coffer’s Ridge provided. “The people here are nice, too. Making me part of the village.” A smile tugged her lips at the thought she was already community web mistress, plumber, aerobics instructor and cake baker. “Plus there’s Ray, who’s adorable even if he is convinced he’s my long-lost grandfather. Wonder what made him so moody today.” She blew a tendril of hair from her face and dabbed moisture from the spot with her tissue. “On the minus side, we have one tall, handsome, single cattle man who looks yummy enough to snuggle up to on a cold night but who can’t manage to say ‘hi’ to a newcomer. Ray said he was a good guy, not stuffy at all. Oh, well, I guess I’m just not Mr. Savage’s type.” Hot and suddenly very bothered, Natalie made her way back to the tiny little desk in her tiny little office. Unable to stop muttering. **** Natalie lifted her hat for shade against the sear of sunlight. She studied the cloudless sky overhead, lowered her gaze and grimaced at a bundle of cumulus on the horizon. Though she was new to the little town of Coffer’s Ridge, in the six years of being a district officer she’d never experienced such a prolonged drought. “What about it, Ray?” She glanced at the old man standing beside her. “Not enough to rinse a tick,” Ray Crawford said. Under his wide-brimmed hat he, too, squinted at the brilliant day without pleasure. “What about that?” Natalie jutted her chin toward the distant clouds, where the vast outback met infinity. “This is the middle of November. Shouldn’t we have rain by now?” “Illusion.” He shook his head. “Be gone before tea time. We’ll get nothing out here from those wisps.” She slapped her hat brim across the tip of one boot to dislodge a coating of soil and sighed. “Doesn’t look good, does it?” “Can you get them to extend drought relief, Nat?” Ray waved flies away from his meat pie. “We need another two months at least.” 3

Giulietta Jones “I’m only the district officer, Ray.” How many extensions had she already requested? She leaned her forearms on the fence rail and watched him eat while her heart wrestled with the knowledge she could do little to ease the burden of unforgiving weather. “You saw my report. All we can do is pray for wet.” “Did you hear?” Ray gave her a sidelong glance. “Jack’s pulling out.” “Jack Savage?” Natalie straightened. The image of the tall, sun-tanned rancher flashed through her mind. Then, aware Ray watched with narrowed gaze, she relaxed against the fence again. Mr. Savage might be a quintessential hunk, but he was nothing to her, a stranger. “No. I didn’t know.” “That’s what I heard.” Perplexed by the old man’s mild reaction to news his friend was leaving, she gazed at the brick-red earth beyond the fence. Heat pulsed from the ground in blistering waves. Above, insect whine dragged the dead air. Wilted foliage hung in forlorn strips on what little vegetation survived the endless dry spell. Dust coated everything. Depressed by the sight, she said at last, “Too many good people are leaving the land.” “Maybe you should go see him,” Ray suggested between bites. “Check if it’s true.” Natalie concentrated on a rail splinter, studying it in the shadow of her wrist. “Whatever Mr. Savage does is none of my business. I’m just surprised he didn’t mention it last week, when he was in town.” “Maybe you could persuade him to stay.” “Me?” His words surprised her. “Why would he listen to me?” The fact he preyed on her mind was simply because he was one of many ranchers in the region about whom she was concerned. That’s all. During their brief encounter in town, he’d shown no indication he was in any way impressed, giving her what amounted to a grunt of greeting and a grunt of farewell. Now, apparently, he was leaving the area for good. End of story. “He probably wouldn’t remember who I am.” “Just a thought.” Ray picked up a handful of dirt, used it to wash crust flakes and oil from his fingers, and 4

First Step wiped his hands on the seat of his baggy trousers. “Sometimes a pretty woman can change a fellow’s mind where logic can’t.” “I barely know Mr. Savage.” Because he stirred a female’s hormones didn’t make a man a close acquaintance. “And I resent that remark about logic.” “No harm in trying. Like you said, too many good people are calling it quits, but I never figured Jack for a quitter.” “Neither did I.” Once again her thoughts swirled impressions of a tall, taciturn man with rugged features. “Could be there’s something more to this than meets the eye.” He glanced at Natalie. “Can’t you dream up some excuse to go see him? Call it an agronomy survey or something?” “Why should I do that?” She hated the note of heightened interest in her voice and dropped her own gaze to the splinter on the rail. Crafty old Ray often saw more than she wanted him to, and any confused feelings she might have for a particular landowner would remain no one’s business but hers. “Besides, I’ve done all my reviews for this quarter.” “I’ll come with you, Nat. Need to go out that way myself anyway. Glad of the company.” Natalie looked up, bothered by vague doubts, but she could see nothing in Ray’s guileless grin to confirm that unease. “All right, why not? I suppose going uninvited to ask an almost complete stranger if he knows what he’s doing is better than waiting here for rain.” “That’s the ticket.” Ray left another dirt smear on the seat of his trousers. “Why so happy about a bumpy, three-hour drive?” Ray shrugged and averted his gaze. “I like your truck.” “Oh, so we’re using my truck, are we, you shameless old man?” He widened his gap-toothed grin. “And another of your tasty pies for the road.” **** “Hello, Ray.” Jack Savage watched Ray hobble toward him. He gave the elderly gent a nod, but remained crouched over the piece of tractor engine he was repairing. 5

Giulietta Jones “Come to tell me again I was a fool to believe I could make a go of this place on my own?” Jack’s jaw tightened. “Think I’ve enjoyed trashing another season’s crop? Culling pedigree cattle?” Ray slapped a hand to his chest. “You offend me when you talk like that, Jack my boy. Nat and I came to see how you were doing. That concerned, we were.” Jack rose from his heels to tower over his grizzled visitor. “Natalie Jones?” He looked across the parched paddock toward the house his grandparents had built. “Where is she?” “I left her by your front porch. So’s you and I could talk business.” Ray leaned his arthritic joints against the ancient shed that served as Jack’s machine shop. “What business?” Jack asked, though his attention wasn’t on Ray. At the thought of Natalie being so close, he felt his nerves strain. Unable to stop himself, he smoothed his hair, repositioned his hat and absently checked that his shirt was buttoned while his gaze probed the distant homestead. “Whose business?” “Now this is how I see it, my boy.” Ray Crawford settled his shoulder blades more comfortably on the shed wall. “There’s that sweet young thing over there, best cook in the state, looking for a prime stud to wed.” Jack turned his head and narrowed his eyes at Ray. “Natalie’s looking for a husband?” “But that’s the catch, see?” Ray paused to massage his chin like a man pondering a difficult problem. “Not too many single males around here, unless you count the farrier’s nephew, or—.” Jack felt grim menace blunt his expression. “Barry’s a thief, and you know it. She’s not considering him, is she?” “She’d have to consider him, wouldn’t she, Jack?” “A mean little punk with a string of convictions to prove it?” Seething, he clenched and unclenched his fingers around the tool in his hand. How could a beautiful, intelligent woman fall for a loser like that? Natalie and that punk? Unthinkable! “You’re not serious?” “There’s always the fellow with warts.” Ray hung his head as if equally appalled. “You know, the one who lives in the hut behind the train tracks.” 6

First Step “What?” His body stiffened, and Jack paused to moderate his outraged tone. “You don’t mean that tired old vagrant who sleeps on beer bottles?” “My sentiments exactly, son.” Ray lounged against the weathered planks of the shed wall. “See, there aren’t that many healthy bucks to choose from. Way out here. Woman can’t wait forever, now can she?” Deeply troubled, Jack scanned the house again, seeking some sign of Natalie. Beautiful Natalie. Small and delicate, with a cap of silky chestnut hair which framed the face of an angel. Gentle eyes, gentle voice, a gentle smile that could pierce a man’s soul. A guardian angel who could scatter a man’s judgment. “Why does she have to get married? She’s not that old.” “She wouldn’t be the first lass who wished to wed in haste,” Ray murmured, looking away. “Now would she?” “What?” Jack stared at the shorter man, then at the house. Seconds ago he’d experienced an unfamiliar sense of outrage, but that was a pale imitation of the emotion now electrifying his soul. This was cold. Raw. Almost feral. After a long, tense moment he asked, “Who?” “None of my business. Or yours, for that matter, son.” He patted the air between them in a placating gesture. “But see, I got me this idea.” Jack barely listened. Anger he couldn’t explain clawed his thoughts. Dismayed by his reaction, he scowled at the house and said under his breath, “I’ll kill him.” “I got to thinking, Jack. We have this pretty gal, new in the district, looking for a home, and here’s you, with a big empty house of your own. Working yourself into the ground to repay your late daddy’s debts.” The old man raised his hands, palms out. “I know, I know. You’re free and clear now, paid up and ready to ride off. But suppose you let her move in with you? What do you say?” Jack’s body went rigid. “I’ll kill him. I want his name.” “Now, now, Jack. None of our business why a sweet young thing is keen to wed warts.” He stepped close and lowered his voice confidentially. “But we could offer her a substitute. What do you say?” Jack drew his mind away from the porch. “Substitute?” he asked, aware that he had missed 7

Giulietta Jones significant parts of the conversation. “Exactly,” Ray grinned. “You.” “Me?” A substitute? For what? “Nothing permanent. She understands you want to move on.” “I’m leaving at the end of the month.” His mind scrambled to adjust to a flood of possibilities. That smart, sweet, soft-spoken angel wanted him? A woman who could have any man? He gulped, scarcely noticing the steel wrench he’d been holding slide through his slack grip and drop to earth. “Signed and sealed?” “Not yet. But—” The old man shifted to rest an elbow on the plank behind him. “Then why not wait a few months? Do the lass a good turn, let her stay with you?” “She wants to stay here?” Jack felt his knees go numb, as if he’d been struck without warning. Without defense. “Did she say that, Ray?” The man shook his head. “Poor thing. Hasn’t a clue what to do. Came to me for advice.” Long acquaintance made Jack scowl at the old man. “This isn’t one of your stories, is it, Ray? You’re not making this up?” His visitor raised his eyebrows. “Real upset she was, Jack.” Jack rubbed his jaw. He realized he hadn’t bothered to shave, his shirt had ragged holes instead of sleeves, and he looked no less unkempt than a vagrant or a car thief. All he had to offer a woman was old-fashioned chivalry, and that trait didn’t come in a pretty package. “She needs you, Jack,” Ray added quickly. “How about it?” Sitting on the veranda’s rocking chair, Natalie pushed herself into motion. The gentle rocking soothed her anxiety. Here she was, on the man’s porch, on a sweltering afternoon, when she should be at her tiny sweltering office in Coffer’s Ridge, filing forms. What was she thinking, to simply arrive on Jack Savage’s doorstep, uninvited? Her gaze moved to the shed. Jack hadn’t approached. He still stood there with Ray, as if rooted to the parched earth like one of the 8

First Step valiant eucalypts behind him. Their visit displeased him. She could tell from the angry jerk of his head at something Ray had said, from the aggressive set of his jaw, which was all she could see beneath the wide brim of his hat. She admired the lean length of him. His hands were hooked low on his hips. He studied the ground, he studied the shadows where she sat, he studied Ray, but he did not approach. If they had been friends, she would have felt empowered to enter his house and make herself a cup of tea. Or sit in the relative coolness of his kitchen with a glass of water. Yet she could hardly invade the man’s domain when they were mere acquaintances. Her conscience chimed alarms that made her fidget. Why, oh why, had she let Ray talk her into this insane visit? Jack had turned to scan the horizon. The kelpie-cross at his heels turned away, too, as if attuned to his master’s mood. Their posture expressed distaste for Ray’s comments. Puzzling the nature of the old man’s possible offense, Natalie allowed her gaze to dwell on the solid symmetry of Jack’s wide shoulders, his narrow waist and flat backside, the stretch of leg made even longer in heeled riding boots. The quintessential cowboy from a billboard ad, standing right there, inviting her to memorize his image and tuck the picture under her pillow to dream on through the night. The tall figure turned toward Ray again. Elbows out, the arch between forefinger and thumb hooked at the top of each long thigh, Jack looked at Ray, then at the ground as he spoke. The spotted dog examined pebbles stirred by his master’s boot with equal concentration. Jack’s bare arms were muscular and weathered to golden brown by an unforgiving sun. But within his ragged shirt, his exposed armpit was untanned. The pale patch made him seem vulnerable. Natalie sat, her vision drawn to bare muscle. When she’d encountered him in Coffer’s Ridge he’d worn a long-sleeved shirt. She had been aware of his height, the clarity and intensity of his gaze, the almost bashful silence he manifested in her presence, his gruff 9

Giulietta Jones courtesy. She had never known he possessed thickly molded biceps. The knowledge upset her composure. She ripped away her gaze and set the rocker in motion with excessive energy. “Come on, Ray,” she urged from behind the fly screen, “I’m hot, thirsty and fed up. He doesn’t want us here. Isn’t that obvious?” Mr. Savage might be the forlorn victim of circumstance Ray described in the truck cab on their drive out, but he certainly wasn’t desperate for female companionship. Ray was wrong about that. Aside from occasional glances toward the rocking chair, Jack hadn’t moved from his position beside the disassembled tractor engine. In town he displayed a reluctance to converse. Yet when she spoke to Ray, she’d been conscious that Jack watched with sober deliberation the movement of her lips. He fixed her with an intense blue-eyed stare even while he shifted uneasily on his feet, crumpled the brim of his hat between his fists without cessation, and generally behaved as if he waited for a horse-sized vaccine needle. Unnerved by his steady gaze, she’d felt warmth invade her cheeks and been annoyed that someone who stood before her like a tree had the power to cause a guilty blush. Ray was wrong to suppose such a man was selling his property because he longed for family life. More wrong still to suppose Savage had any desire to get to know her. He had made his enmity obvious. Even his dog knew it. Movement caught her attention, and Natalie halted the rocker with a gasp. Both men now walked toward her. Jack’s long stride consumed distance with alarming speed. Ray had to inject a quick, arthritic skip every three or four steps to keep up. Gripped by an odd mixture of dread and anticipation, Natalie felt her respiration falter, her pulse race. She rose to her feet as heavy boots thudded onto the veranda steps. “Nat, Jack has a proposition for you,” Ray panted, when both men arrived on the porch. The screen door slammed shut behind the kelpie that followed the men indoors. The dog plopped beside 10

First Step Natalie’s chair with an exhausted sigh. She heard the dog, but was preoccupied watching its tall master. As he approached her, Jack removed his widebrimmed hat. A quiver settled in her stomach. His conversation might consist of terse monosyllables, but the rough-hewn cattle rancher couldn’t help revealing qualities that endeared him. Like instinctive courtesy in the presence of a lady. “Hello, Mr. Savage,” Natalie said, hoping to fill the awkward silence. Her host nodded, studying her with characteristic intensity. Unnerved again, she turned to Ray for reassurance. Ray abandoned her with the words, “Need a drink.” He disappeared into the homestead’s interior far too quickly for an old man with a limp. She tried to ignore the way her blood began to flutter. “Well, I guess we’ve come at a bad time, Mr. Savage. I hope you don’t think—.” “Marry me.” “Pardon?” She heard her own gasp of surprise. Had he said what she thought he’d said? “I sold most of my stock, but I’ve got enough set aside for at least six months.” Jack cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m handy with tools. I can line up plenty of odd jobs until something permanent comes along.” “Yes?” Her dreamlike sense of amazement persisted. For a man who didn’t speak he could lock a person into the most riveting dialogue. His firm lips moved while he enumerated his assets. His deep voice rumbled. She listened, concentrating on his face in the hope of understanding. When his lips ceased to move and she saw he expected her to make some response, she had no idea what he’d said. What felt like raw current rippled inside her bones. Her skin went hot. Then cold. The dog at her feet yawned. The small noise shattered her concentration, and she had to inquire once more, “Yes?” 11

Giulietta Jones “Good,” he rasped, “Next month all right with you? Ray said the license requires a month and a day.” Had she heard him right? “Next month?” He nodded, twisting his hat. Again Natalie had a surreal sense of being misunderstood. Jack cleared his throat aggressively. The dog wheezed. A fly buzzed beyond the wire mesh. Ray materialized from the gloom of the house, saying, “That’s the ticket. Best be off now.” Jack nodded to Natalie, whistled the dog to heel and strode out the screen door and into the heat. Natalie heard the mesh door slam shut. She turned to Ray, aware of a sharp stab of disappointment. “He didn’t even say goodbye.” The hinges squeaked as the screen door jerked open. His expression grim, Jack strode back onto the veranda. He approached and stood in front of her. A wheeze near her ankle told Natalie she was toe-to-toe with a spotted dog as well. Ray hovered on the periphery of her vision. Her heart tumbled with anticipation. She wanted to speak, to do something to ease the bewildering tension on the porch. She swallowed. Her lungs shrank, and her palms went clammy. Nothing helped. Jack’s expression harshened. He’d forgotten to remove his hat, so she knew whatever he had on his mind must be important. She remembered his gruff behavior in town. Could the expanse of manhood standing before her be shy? She took a step closer and gave him a tentative smile. Jack leaned forward, bent his head and kissed her full on the mouth. She felt beard bristle and firm lips, solid brawn enfolding her and a masculine heartbeat confirming the moment was real. She heard the creak of his boots as he lifted her from the ground and held her entire weight within his arms. She felt the pinch of his belt buckle, the crisp edge of his collar, the rough texture of denim, and the dizzying sensation of her fingers stroking a massive bicep solid as a bridge girder. The warmth disappeared from her lips. A man’s 12

First Step callused thumb lingered to caress her cheek and the side of her throat. His breath tickled the tiny hairs at her temple. She rested a cheek against his wide chest while she analysed the amazing event. Jack Savage had just kissed her. Her blood raced and she inhaled wholesome, sunwarmed flesh and work shirt. Positive she was dreaming, Natalie nestled closer to the person whose powerful arms held her in a protective, pleasurable embrace. “That’s the ticket,” she heard Ray say behind her. “Knew there’d be sparks. Had to light the fuse before he left the district, even if they’re sore as sandflies at me the minute they compare notes. Might not get them to the altar before Christmas, but we sure got them past that first step.” A dog sighed in what sounded like sentimental agreement. “Yes,” a dazed Natalie whispered, rising on tiptoe for a fresh caress. “Oh, yes.”

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