In Her Husband's Image. Vivienne Wallington

to be calm,” he rasped in her ear. “Don’t let him see how scared you are. You don’t want him to panic.”

      Biting down on her lip, she covered the remaining ground at a sprint, managing not to scream at the terrified boy. Buster reached the windmill first, his barking giving way to whimpers and whines as he circled the foot of the steel ladder.

      “Mummy’s here, Mikey. Don’t move!” Rachel called. Perilously close to him, the whirling blades glinted ominously in the midday sun, sending a black, twisting fear through her. “I’m coming up to get you.” She spoke reassuringly, though she had no idea how she would be able to hold on to her son and keep a firm grasp on the narrow steel ladder at the same time. “Don’t look down!”

      She felt Zac’s hand on her shoulder, easing her to one side. “I’ll climb up and get him, Rachel. I’m stronger. I’ll keep him safe, I promise.”

      Would he? She gripped his arm in agonized indecision. Would he be as careful as she would be, the boy’s own mother? Mikey meant everything to her, but what did he mean to Zac? He’d never met the boy until today, and he only knew Mikey as the son of a brother he’d never had any time for, a nephew he’d known nothing about until today.

      But Zac was strong, far stronger than she was. With those powerful hands and shoulders he’d be more likely to bring Mikey down safely. She must trust him. She must trust the man who’d shown he wasn’t worthy of trust by betraying his own brother, as she’d unknowingly betrayed her own husband. But this was a matter of life and death, not morals.

      “Please…take care,” she whispered, and let her hand drop away.

      “I will, don’t worry.” He started scaling the ladder, his strong, tanned hands gripping the rungs in a way that gave her a measure of comfort. She’d felt those same hands on her body and knew they could be gentle, too….

      She held her breath, clenching her teeth in a frenzy of suspense. Zac was nearly at the top now and she could hear him speaking gently to Mikey. Her heart leaped into her mouth as he managed to loosen Mikey’s frightened grip on the ladder and gather him in one arm, keeping his other hand firmly on the ladder. And then they were coming down, Mikey’s arms curled around his rescuer’s neck and his small plump legs wound around Zac’s upper body.

      Rachel didn’t start breathing again until they were nearly at ground level, close enough for her to catch her son if he fell. She let her gaze dwell for a second on Zac’s strong, competent arms and broad shoulders, feeling a rush of gratitude.

      The wayward thought popped into her head that Adrian, if he’d been here, instead of Zac, would probably still have been hesitating down below, or calling for backup, or putting a detailed plan into action, weighing up the pros and cons before acting—always the safe, precautionary approach, so different from his more risk-taking, man-of-action brother.

      And who was to say which approach was the best? On the one hand, Zac could have lost his grip on Mikey or the ladder as he’d come down, while on the other, her son could just as easily have panicked and fallen while Adrian was preparing a rescue plan, with safety harnesses and bales of hay to provide a soft landing if the worst happened.

      But all that mattered was that Zac had brought her son down safe and sound, without any delay or fuss at all. When the two reached solid ground, she gathered Mikey in her arms and held him tightly for a long moment, her eyes moist as they sought and found Zac’s.

      “Thank you,” she said, and felt a tiny frisson of shock as his eyes caught and held hers for a heart-stopping second before she broke eye contact.

      She could feel Mikey’s weight dragging on her arms and shoulders and was thankful she hadn’t been forced to bring him down from that great height herself. Already he was wriggling to be put down, which only added to his weight. She set him on the dusty ground but didn’t release him, instead placing her hands on his shoulders and leaning over to bring her face close to his.

      “Mikey, you know you’re not to climb up the windmill. I’ve told you a hundred times. We’ve all told you. It’s far too dangerous. Why did you do it?”

      His answer floored her. “I was spotting tigers from the treetops, like Uncle Zac.”

      Like Uncle Zac… She tossed her brother-in-law a sharp glare, her gratitude disintegrating. Damn Zac and his exciting tales of wild animals. Already he was causing trouble and exerting a dangerous influence on her son.

      “Mikey, there are no tigers in Australia. And a windmill is not a treetop.”

      “Just a boy’s lively imagination.” Zac’s tone was benign, not the least concerned or penitent. “I was just the same. Always dreaming of adventure and excitement and travel to exotic places. Always getting up to mischief. Mikey must have inherited his high spirits from his uncle.” He said it with a certain amount of satisfaction.

      Rachel’s heart did a double flip. “He’s more likely to have inherited it from me,” she said in her most squashing tone. “I was a tomboy as a kid, always getting up to pranks. But putting yourself in danger is a different thing entirely. I’m trying to raise my son to be responsible.”

      “You can be too cautious, too careful, Rachel. It can make you vulnerable, tighten you up, cause you to make mistakes. Look where caution got Adrian.”

      She sucked in a vexed breath. “That was a freak accident. It could have happened to anyone. It had nothing to do with being too cautious and tightening up.”

      “Maybe. Or maybe he felt guilty about what he was doing to Bushy Hill and lost concentration just long enough to make a lethal mistake.”

      She snapped her mouth shut. Hadn’t she had a similar thought herself?

      Adrian had always tended to put the needs of the cattle station ahead of conservation and the rights of native animals—“vermin,” he’d called them. He’d been forever complaining about the kangaroos, wallabies and wombats and the damage they caused, kicking down fences and digging holes that tripped the horses.

      And her husband had had a point. The wildlife often did cause problems. Only yesterday Vince and her young jackeroo, Danny, her recently arrived apprentice farmhand, had found a dead kangaroo in one of the outlying dams. If they hadn’t discovered it so quickly, by a sheer fluke, it could have polluted the water over time. Especially with the dam so low.

      Worse, the dead kangaroo had been shot. Its body must have been deliberately thrown into the dam. She couldn’t imagine anyone at Yarrah Downs doing such a thing and had put the incident down to intruders, trespassing onto the property at night to hunt wild boar and shooting the ’roo in frustration after failing to find what they were looking for.

      Her chest swelled in a sigh. Since her husband’s death, nothing had gone right. It had been one problem after another.

      “You can take Adrian’s motorbike,” she told Zac. “It’s in that shed over there.” She waved a hand. “You’ll find bottles of water in the cool room in the same shed. Better take some with you.” She paused. “Let me know what damage has been done and I’ll see what we can do about it.”

      “Whatever damage has been done,” Zac said grimly, “I’ll fix it—if it’s not too late.”

      “Can I go with Uncle Zac?” Mikey begged. “Dad used to let me ride on his motorbike.”

      Only once, Rachel recalled, and only around the homestead yards. Her husband had decided it wasn’t safe. Safety had been paramount to Adrian. Until he’d made his one fatal mistake.

      “No, you can not go, Mikey.” Best to keep him under her eye and away from Zac. Away from further trouble. “You can stay here and help me. And later I might give you a ride on Silver.”

      Adrian had bought the pale-gray gelding for her as a wedding gift, after she’d told him she’d taken riding lessons for years and had competed in show-jumping events. On the rare occasions she could find someone to look after Mikey for a few hours, she loved taking Silver