Page 40 of A Home Among the Snow Gums
‘Oh!’ She looked at her plate, which was down to a lone flat-leaf parsley stem and a few stray sprinkles of ground pepper. Did she want to talk to Tom?
Apparently the brain cells in charge of her mouth did. ‘See you soon,’ she heard herself saying into the phone before he rang off.
Kylie’s immaculately shaped eyebrows had disappeared into her hairline. ‘Well? Don’t leave me sitting here wondering. What does our returned naval hero have to say for himself? Was he calling to remind you how “uninterested” he is?’
‘You are so not funny. Actually … I’m not sure why he called. He wants to talk something over. Animal related, I would assume, since that’s theonlything we have in common.’Other than one secret kiss.
‘Or, maybe it’s something that will fit into your new year, new you scheme. An adventure.’
‘I doubt it.’
‘But if it is … promise me you won’t just give some kneejerk answer because you’re anxious about change. Change can be fun, Hannah. Change can be good.’
‘I promise. Whatever his reason is, me hearing it is going to require wheels. You got the workshop keys on you? Looks like I’m taking the green machine for a spin.’
‘I’ll walk you over. Remind me to give you the Dalgety program Kev saved for you. What with all the hoo-ha dragging you out of the showgrounds the other day, it somehow ended up in my handbag.’
CHAPTER
15
Driving the winding mountain road from Hanrahan up to Ironbark Station was tricky on a dry day. On a wet late summer evening with clouds rolling down from the north and Kylie’s words about URST scrolling over and over in her head … well. She’d had to concentrate.
Was her friend right? Did Tom fancy her? He’d tried to kiss her in the stable, but then he’d said it was no big deal. Why would he lie?
He wouldn’t. Tom Krauss was about the most stand-up guy she’d ever known and in all those years, he’d never lied. Even to get out of trouble, which Hannah would have done in a heartbeat back when she was a kid. Not Tom.Yes, Mrs Cody, I threw the cricket ball through your dining room window. Yes, Mr Cody, I drank six beers from your shed fridge with Josh and then we both puked behind the compost bin.
So what could she deduce from this? The answer seemed easy: he might fancy her a little bit, but it wasn’t personal. It wasn’t special. He wasn’t, as he had already told her, interested, which meant Kylie’s nonsense about unresolved sexual tension was just Kylie’s wishful thinking.
She reached the turn where bitumen gave way to gravel track and nearly knocked her front teeth out on the steering wheel as the car hit a rut in the road. The clapped-out condition of her old car’s suspension wasn’t great, it had to be said. Kylie had the starter motor working a treat, which was a plus, but the back window was jammed about an inch open which made the wind flap about the back seat like Hannah had a damaged eagle stashed back there. No working heater, either, in a new and unwelcome development given the crazy cold weather the Snowies were having this summer. She tried not to think of it as an ill omen.
By the time she pulled into a park below the bullnose verandah of the Krauss homestead and killed the engine, she was shivering.
And maybe the weather wasn’t the only reason.
She hadn’t been back here since The Incident, and on that day she’d driven off like a wild person without stopping to think about what had upset her so much. Now she’d been invited back for ‘a proposal’ of some sort.
It had to be horse related. Specifically, Buttercup related. The big mare’s pregnancy must be well underway now and it would be an unseasonal birth. It happened. Especially where the insemination had been done out of—
‘Oh.’ Hannah’s thoughts stopped in their tracks. ‘Oh!’
Where was that program Kylie had given her? She shoved at the pile of dressings and caramel wrappers that were littered over the passenger seat until she found it. She couldn’t believe it had taken her so long to twig. The master of ceremonies had only spent most of the campdraft announcing it over the speakers strung up from tree to power pole to loo block.
She flipped the cover open.Events … Thank you to our sponsors … Showground Rules: no dogs near the cattle pens, no smoking, no littering …Yeah, yeah, whatever. Oh! Here it was: the list of prizes. Her eyes widened. Stallion after stallion was being offered up by local owners to service mares. And not just any old stallions, but ones with campdrafting and rodeo credentials.
A proven record.
No talk of artificial insemination, she noted, and why bother? Insemination in the equine industry wasn’t outrageously expensive, but you needed equipment, a vet, expertise. Definitely more dosh needed than filling your horse float with diesel and trucking your mare to a paddock to get up close and personal with a willing, competent stallion.
No messy relationship drama, just a biological transaction with a sweet, soft-nosed little foal to show for it ten or eleven months later.
What was stopping her employing the same methodology? She’d studied biology at uni, hadn’t she? She owned a zillion textbooks, she worked with animals. And—this was the clincher—she had her own ova to test her theories on. A few less every day if that dumb article in Kylie’s magazine was to be believed, but she had enough to get the job done.
All she needed to do was find herself a likely candidate who’d be willing to do the servicing but who wasn’t going to mess up the arrangement with a lot of relationship drama.
She stared up at the Krauss homestead. Well, well, well. Hadn’t Hanrahan’s recently returned bachelor spelled it out to her in unambiguous terms?I was just messing around, brat. It’s already forgotten.All of which made him the perfect candidate to approach for the plan she’d just conceived (ha! What a pun!) inspired by the wonderful committee members who’d typed up the Dalgety Campdraft program.
But was now the time to suggest it?
