It Began in Te Rangi Page 7

  ‘All yours?’ She was unaware of the wistfulness that tinged her tones.

  ‘It’s fairly extensive,’ he agreed. ‘Best part of ten thousand acres. A lot of it’s in bush down in the gullies, but I’ve brought in seven thousand acres for grazing; run sheep and beef cattle. Ten thousand acres of hill country around here wouldn’t have meant much a few years ago when the whole place was covered in scrub. It took crop dusting to change the picture.’ He broke off. ‘Hello, here’s Dusty now!’ As he spoke a light aircraft swooped low over their heads and rose dangerously close to the steep slopes. The next moment the pilot released a load of fertilizer and the fine dust settled over the cleared ground. Then he was off, skimming the peaks as he returned for another load.

  ‘What does it mean, the name Te Rangi?’ she asked idly.

  ‘Now that,’ Danger told her, ‘was something you should have had a word with Mrs. Wahonga about. For one thing, she could supply the right Maori pronunciation. The full name’s—wait for it—taepaepaetanga o te-rangi—’

  ‘Goodness! Whatever does all that add up to?’

  ‘The place,’ Danger interpreted, ‘where the sun hangs down to the horizon. They were pretty lyrical, those old-time Maoris, when it came to giving a name to a district.’

  ‘I can see what you mean.’ Her roving gaze was sweeping the hillsides. ‘I was looking for Pete.’

  ‘He’s over there, down in the valley. The brood mares are out with their foals in a back paddock, and there’s only a' small bunch of them over here.’

  ‘Where?’ Maggie followed the direction in which he was gazing.

  ‘There, under the gumtrees, beside the Saint—’ An arm thrown carelessly around her shoulders, he leaned close, pointing a lean brown finger towards a cleft in the hills. ‘See him?’

  But Maggie couldn’t seem to focus her gaze for the stupid thud-thud of her heart. He was so near that she could see the tiny white marks fanning out from the deeply tanned skin at the corners of his eyes. Breathlessly she attempted to drag herself back to sanity, trying to concentrate her attention on the horses in the distant paddock. The white thoroughbred was obviously the Saint and the big bay was Pete.

  ‘Make the most of it, Pete boy,’ she tried to speak lightly. ‘All that gorgeous fresh grass and oodles of space and company, it’s all too good to last.’

  ‘Is it?’ Very gently he lifted a hand to smooth back a long strand of dark hair that was blowing across her eyes.

  Deliberately Maggie kept her gaze fixed on the paddock below, but all the time she knew that he was regarding her speculatively. To cover her confusion she said jerkily, ‘The children said that you were clearing some land?’

  ‘That’s right. We’ll go and take a look.’ Putting two fingers to his lips, he gave a piercing whistle that had the effect of making the children come pelting back up the hillside, flushed and breathless.

  ‘On your way, kids!’ They clambered in, then Danger slammed the door and thumbed the starter. Soon they were swinging down a winding track, dropping down to the filtered sunshine of a bush-filled gully, then speeding up a slope. Now Maggie noticed that opposite, the hillside had been cleared of native bush and now the fallen tea-tree lay in cut heaps piled on the slopes, the branches dried out to a dark blackish tint.

  Danger braked to a stop on the slope. ‘Got a bloke in to bulldoze it all down. Now all I need to do is push it down into the gully.’

  ‘All?’ Maggie raised a teasing face. ‘Oh well, that’s better than burning it off, even if it is a lot of work getting rid of it.’

  He grinned towards her. ‘How come you know so much about it? I thought you were a city girl?’

  ‘Not always.’ Impulsively the words rose to her lips. ‘I only wish—’ She broke off just in time to stop herself from giving voice to her thoughts—that I were staying here, and Pete too. It would all be perfect, if only it weren’t for the disturbing man at her side.

  Even without turning she was aware of his quick interrogative glance. ‘What do you wish, Maggie?’

  If only he’d move away, she thought. She couldn’t seem to think clearly. All she could think of was his nearness, the faint aroma of tobacco and the fragrance of after-shave lotion. If only he’d stop looking at her. ‘Nothing,’ she said faintly. ‘Skip it.’

  Mark’s shriek of ‘I can see Gavin and Mike!’ brought her sharply back to the present. She gazed towards the two horsemen far in the distance who were patrolling the long boundary fences in the valley below.

  They moved on over a bridge made from long stringy black ponga logs, and dropping down into a gully, swept into the damp greenness of a bush track, where the silvery notes of a tui echoed from somewhere in the leafy foliage high above.

  As they moved over the hills Maggie could see the sheep, mothers with lambs, and occasionally a black lamb that made Mark call out with excitement.

  Then they were in sight of the homestead, passing the mellow red shearing shed, the corral, the line of sheepdog kennels, garages and sheds. As the car swept up to brake at the wide entrance, the children scrambled out and rushed up the steps.

  ‘Thank you.’ Maggie turned to follow them into the house while Danger went to garage the car.

  In the lounge room she dropped to a low seat by the window, watching Danger as he, with his long easy strides, mounted the steps, taking them two at a time. It was all very well for him to be so cheerful and lighthearted, she thought crossly. He wasn’t dependent on someone else for the carefree freedom of his life here. She sighed. Well, she’d have to have it out with him sooner or later, and the sooner the better. She swung around as he came into the room, turning a small diffident face towards him.

  ‘There’s something I wanted to ask you about—’

  ‘Go ahead.’ He fished in the pocket of his cotton shirt and extended a cigarette packet, lighted a cigarette for her, one for himself, then stood eyeing her with that compelling gaze he seemed to keep especially for her, and which she found so difficult to meet.

  ‘Just what did you mean,’ Maggie said in a low voice, ‘when you told the children that I might be staying?’ She studied the glowing tip of her cigarette.

  He turned on her that brilliant blue gaze. ‘Just what I said. Well, Maggie,’ he murmured softly, ‘it’s over to you!’

  Maggie! ‘But I thought...’ Nervously she twisted a strand of hair around her fingers. ‘You said—’

  ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ he returned calmly.

  ‘Oh, I see.’ A sudden wild hope flared in her mind, filling her with excitement. She turned away, fearful that he might read the triumph in her expression. So he was about to apologize to her at last for his previously mistaken assessment of her capabilities. No doubt he would explain that he had judged her too harshly, and too soon. He now realized her undoubted ability to cope with children and household chores, despite her youthful appearance.

  She waited ... and waited. At length, in the growing silence she realized that he hadn’t the slightest intention of explaining, much less apologizing—ever. There was nothing but the bald, take-it-or-leave-it statement: ‘It’s over to you!’

  ‘What ... made you change your mind ... about me?’ The words seemed to come to her lips of their own volition.

  He was as tall and erect and remote as ever as he gazed down at her. ‘Let’s just say,’ he bent to flick the ash from his cigarette, ‘that I guess I owe you something at that.’

  The indignant thoughts chased one another through her mind. He was offering her employment merely because of the accident that had befallen her while on his property. A sort of compensation for damage sustained. Wasn’t that the legal jargon? Oh, he was hateful! hateful! Anger surged through her, overriding every other emotion. She was deadly sick of always being the one to be on the receiving end of his charity. This time it would be her turn to call the tune. She drew a deep breath, schooling her voice to calmness, but in spite of herself, it emerged with a betraying tremor. ‘That’s funny, because I’ve
changed my mind about the job here. I’ve decided that it wouldn’t suit me after all. So I guess that makes us about even.’

  He shrugged. ‘As you wish.’ His eyes were chips of blue ice, and for a moment she was aware of a queer sick feeling that came perilously close to regret, but pride prevented her from retracting the words. A snatch of melody sung in soft Maori syllables gave her the cue she needed. ‘I can hear Mrs. Wahonga ... I’ve got to see her ... about tea.... Excuse me.’ She fled towards the door before he could take note of the tell-tale colour that was flooding her cheeks.

  In her haste to escape from him she narrowly avoided colliding with the Maori woman. Mrs. Wahonga held up a plump detaining hand. ‘Hello, Miss Sullivan!’ The great dark eyes studied Maggie with frank appraisal. ‘You know something? You not so like that other one, not now I can see you properly! Cathy, she so much taller, you only little! It was seeing you all of a sudden like, same sort of face, same big brown eyes, that gave me such a turn!’

  Maggie flashed her pixie grin. ‘Sorry, Mrs. Wahonga.’

  But the Maori woman continued to regard her consideringly. ‘You different too,’ she conceded candidly. ‘That other one, she liked herself a lot, she did,’

  ‘Oh well,’ Maggie perched lightly on the kitchen table, ‘I guess actresses are like that, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Don’t ask me! I never knew anyone in that game, ’cept Cathy. Now don’t you go bothering your head about dinner. I’ll get the chops on to cook right away!’ She turned towards the giant refrigerator in a corner of the room. ‘You look a whole lot better today. Not so white-looking. Soon be well again, eh, ehoa?’

  ‘I’m well now,’ Maggie said. ‘At least, I feel fine, but the doctor made me promise to stay here for two more days.’ She wondered at the deep sigh that escaped her at the thought of leaving, for what was there to attract her, apart from the wild freedom of her surroundings? A kindly talkative Maori woman, three perfectly ordinary children, and that disturbing John Dangerfield himself!

  Seated with the others at the table that evening while shafts of flame from a glorious sunset lighted the windows, Maggie found the meal delicious. Mutton from the farm, roasted kimera, fresh green salad, followed by luscious frozen boysenberries topped with ice cream.

  ‘No trouble,’ the smiling Maori woman disclaimed the chorus of compliments on her cooking ability. ‘I gotta get back home now and cook for my boy.’

  Gavin, young, fair, fresh-faced, eyed her teasingly. ‘You should have had an extra meal with us—’

  ‘You could easily have managed it,’ his mate Mike, thin and dark, put in in his quiet tones.

  ‘That’s what you think,’ Mrs. Wahonga countered. ‘I’m off now.’ She hesitated, looking towards Danger. ‘You all going down to the beach tomorrow?’

  ‘All of us,’ Danger said.

  Mrs. Wahonga turned to Maggie. ‘You’re in for a great day! It’s good fun getting toheroas.’ She gave her rich chuckle. ‘Good eating too!’

  ‘I’m looking forward to it,’ Maggie smiled back. ‘If I’m lucky I might be able to take some back to town with me. Do you think—’

  Her voice was drowned in a flood of surprised cries as the children stared at her, wide-eyed.

  There was a wild howl from Mark. ‘Don’t go, Sullivan! Don’t go!’ His high chair lurched at a precarious angle as he leaned forward to clutch Maggie in a compulsive grasp. The tears splashed down on to her arm. ‘I won’t let you go! I won’t I won’t!’

  ‘Now you’ve done it!’ Danger catching her eye, grinned ruefully.

  Your fault! But she said the words under her breath. Aloud she heard herself calling through the uproar. ‘But I have to go!’

  ‘Why do you?’ Philippa shrilled. ‘I thought you were staying here to look after us. You said you liked it here. Why can’t you stay?’ Then, pleadingly, ‘I wish you could!’

  ‘Me too,’ Ian put in his quiet boyish tones. ‘You make beaut scones, all brown and crusty!’

  ‘Don’t you like us?’ Philippa regarded Maggie anxiously. ‘We’ll help. We’ll be awfully good. We’ll do the dishes every night if you’ll stay, won’t we, Ian?’

  Her brother nodded. ‘Why can’t you, Miss Sullivan?’

  Maggie felt a pang of the heart. For how to explain to these pleading, bewildered children that it was their uncle who made the decisions around here, and he’d certainly made it plain enough that he didn’t want her at Amberley station, not one little bit!

  ‘It’s got nothing to do with you children,’ she said at last.

  A chorus of eager young voices cut her short. ‘Then why—’

  ‘I just can’t,’ she said lamely.

  Ian’s freckled face turned towards her, eyes clear and candid. ‘But Miss Sullivan, couldn’t you—’

  ‘That’s enough!’ Danger’s deep tones cut in sharply. ‘Get on with your tea, all of you.’ And to Mark: Take it easy, mate. No need for all that roaring. You’ll get looked after all right. Mrs. Wahonga.’

  ‘Don’t want Mrs. Wahonga!’ Mark banged imperiously with his spoon on the tray of his high chair. ‘Want Sullivan! Want Sullivan!’ As the child’s howls increased in volume, Danger got to his feet and bore the small boy away. Mark was still shrieking and sobbing.

  ‘Seems you have quite an admirer,’ Danger said dryly to Maggie when he returned to take his seat at the head of the big table.

  Which is more than I could say for you! Maggie couldn’t quite summon up the necessary courage to say the words aloud. She was annoyed with Danger for shutting Mark away in the bedroom. Loud sobbing could be heard from behind the closed door, punctuated by a pause, then banging that she took to be the sound of a small foot aiming vigorous kicks against the door.

  ‘Well, anyway,’ Gavin said with a grin to Maggie, ‘you’ll have quite a day tomorrow. Probably be a big crowd, though you don’t notice it down on the beach, it’s so vast. Cars come up there from miles away, even as far as Auckland.’

  ‘But only the locals know just where to find the biggest and best toheroas,’ put in Mike, with a knowing wink in Maggie’s direction.

  ‘But we’ll show you where to go. Miss Sullivan,’ the two chorused in unison.

  ‘Nothing but the best for Miss Sullivan, eh, Danger?’ Mike added.

  But the boys’ employer appeared to have lost interest in the subject of that annoying trouble-maker, Miss Sullivan, who had forced herself into his home.

  ‘Tide’ll be dead low around midday,’ he remarked. ‘Quite a good arrangement for the weekend.’ His cool gaze shifted to Maggie. ‘It would help if you’d take the kids down in the car.’

  ‘The car?’ Taken by surprise, she stared at him blankly.

  ‘It’s all on account of the quota,’ Mike explained. ‘They’re awfully strict, the beach inspector blokes, about taking toheroas since some greedy bods grabbed more than their share last year. Now there are only two weekends during the whole year, allowed for digging. And then you’re only supposed to take ten each and only three gatherers to a car. That’s when it comes in handy to take along some extra collectors, like the kids—’

  ‘Thanks very much,’ Ian said sarcastically.

  ‘No offence, mate.’

  ‘Ten toheroas per person per day, perhaps,’ Gavin put in.

  But Maggie was scarcely aware of the teasing voices. Still smarting with humiliation after her interview with Danger, she was feverishly trying to memorize the position of the gears in the big Chrysler. ‘Able to drive a car,’ his advertisement had stipulated. This time she was determined not to fail him.

  ‘How far away is the beach where you get the toheroas?’ she inquired.

  ‘No distance at all.’ It was Danger who answered in his laconic tones. ‘A few miles over to the Gap, then once you hit the beach, about five miles along the sandhills should do it.’

  ‘Only we don’t tell that to city scroungers,’ Mike confided.

  ‘Only to special folk. Ones we really go for,’ his mate
added, turning a sunburned face towards Maggie.

  Danger didn’t say anything at all. But then he wouldn’t, Maggie thought angrily. Catch the boss of Amberley joining in any complimentary remarks concerning Maggie Sullivan!

  All at once she became aware that the loud cries from Mark’s bedroom had died away. ‘Shall I go and get Mark now?’ she appealed to Danger. ‘He seems to have quietened down.’

  ‘I’ll fetch him.’ He returned a few moments later carrying a chastened Mark, who in silence resumed his cold meal, with only an occasional gulping sob.

  The tear-stained babyish face and swollen eyelids went to Maggie’s heart, and she felt a sudden misgiving. These children really needed her and she was deserting them, leaving them in the care of a neighbour and a man who was inexperienced in family life, a man who was forced to neglect his duties on a vast station in order to work close to the homestead. How could she? Yet how could she stay, knowing that Danger’s offer of employment had been made only from a sense of obligation?

  Afterwards without being told, Philippa and Ian cleared away the dinner dishes and began to wash them, and for once, Maggie noticed, there was no ensuing squabble.

  She went up the hall, noticing as she passed a light under the door of the small room that Danger used as an office.

  It was later when Maggie was in the bathroom, preparing Mark for bed, that the telephone rang in the hall and she went to answer it. A girl’s voice answered, a girl who was obviously taken aback by Maggie’s polite ‘Hello!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ the stranger shouted, confused. ‘I think I’ve dialled the wrong number. That’s not Mr. Dangerfield’s place, is it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Maggie replied in her soft tones, ‘that’s right.’

  ‘But—I—’ At last the unknown caller appeared to recover herself. ‘Is he there? Danger, I mean? Would you tell him please that it’s Ann—’