In Her Husband's Image. Vivienne Wallington

How could she keep Yarrah Downs running if she couldn’t even trust her own head stockman?

      “Beats me.” Vince shook his sandy head. There was no sign of guilt on his sun-weathered face, no sliding away of his crinkled gaze, but then, Vince seldom showed any emotion. “Young hooligans? One of our neighbors, keen to buy up your land if you decide to sell? Or maybe some contractor who doesn’t like dealing with a female station owner.”

      “Is that how you feel, Vince?” she asked bluntly.

      “No, of course not.” But his ready denial wasn’t convincing. He didn’t expect her to stay. Not for the long term. Not when he knew her own father was doing his best to persuade her to sell and move back to town. Nobody expected her to stay. And Zac, she suspected, shared the sentiment.

      As if her thoughts had conjured him up, Zac appeared, his hair still damp from his shower, his clean shirt splashed with droplets of water. In place of the boots he’d been wearing earlier was an old pair of sneakers. He looked perfectly at home already in his brother’s house.

      She sensed Vince stiffen at the sight of him, heard Joanne’s quick intake of breath and said as coolly as she could, “I don’t suppose you’ve met Adrian’s twin brother, Zac Hammond? Zac, this is my head stockman, Vince Morgan. And this is his wife, Joanne.”

      “G’day, Zac.” Vince stretched out a freckled hand. By the mystified look on his face, it was clear that Adrian had never mentioned a brother to his head stockman, or if he had, he’d kept quiet about Zac being an identical twin.

      As Zac clasped the outstretched hand, Rachel could almost read Vince’s mind: couldn’t have been much brotherly love between ’em if the boss never mentioned having a twin brother. And how right he would be!

      To explain her brother-in-law’s long absence from Australia, she gave a sketchy background. “Zac’s a wildlife photographer. He works in remote parts of the world, taking photographs for geographic and wildlife publications and making documentaries. He’s come back to Australia to do an assignment here.”

      Was that a flicker of relief in Vince’s eyes? Or merely a flicker of interest? Had he wondered for a second if Zac had come back to take over the family property, dashing any hopes he might have had of running the station himself?

      “Good to meet you, Vince. Joanne.” Zac was all smoothness and charm as he turned to Vince’s bride, who gave one of her rare smiles and thrust out her own hand. Rachel had the strangest feeling, as Zac’s hand closed over Joanne’s, that it was her own hand being clasped in that warm, firm grasp, and she had to swallow and look away.

      “How about a cold beer?” she asked, and receiving nods all round—Joanne always joined the men in a beer—she hastened back to the kitchen. She normally had a weak gin-and-tonic herself, but tonight she chose mineral water, knowing they’d be having wine with dinner. With Zac around, she needed to keep her wits about her.

      Over drinks she asked Zac about his inspection of Bushy Hill, half dreading his answer. She wasn’t sure how much damage Adrian had done before his fatal accident. For Mikey’s sake she’d kept well away from the hill in the past month.

      Zac pursed his lips. “I guess it could have been worse. Most of the hill’s been untouched, luckily, but quite a bit of native scrub and a few trees along the lower slopes are gone, exposing the bare earth to the elements. I’d advise putting in some drains before the rains come, or you could face an erosion problem.”

      Drains? How much would they cost? Rachel took a quick gulp of her drink, wishing she had chosen something stronger.

      “We can only hope the wildlife hasn’t been disturbed too much.” Zac’s jaw gritted as he said it. “My other worry is that the dam below the hill is almost empty. We’ll need to bring in a water tanker to refill it, or the wildlife and the cattle out there will run out of water. Or be in danger of getting trapped in the mud if the dam dries up any more.”

      Rachel’s spirits nose-dived. Drains…trucking in water…repairing or maybe even replacing the damaged bore… All tasks that would cost money she simply didn’t have.

      She felt Zac’s eyes on her face and knew he’d sensed her dismay. Now he, too, would assume the property was too much for her, just as everyone else did.

      “Don’t worry, Rachel. I said I’d fix my brother’s mess and I will. I need to fly to Brisbane in the morning to see about the plane and to bring some more fuel in, but first I’ll arrange for a water tanker to come and for a truck to deliver the plastic pipes and gravel I’ll need for Bushy Hill. I’ll work on that when I get back tomorrow. Then I’ll scatter some seeds around for eventual regrowth when the rains come.”

      As her lips parted in protest—how dared he take charge and leave her to face the bill?—he drawled, “My expense, naturally. Bushy Hill’s always been my special interest. Please don’t deny me this one thing I can do for Yarrah Downs, Rachel.”

      She hesitated, frowning, wondering about his motives. If she allowed him to sink money into the property, she would be obligated to him. He might even expect to become a partner, an equal, if mostly absent partner, with the right to make decisions—decisions she might not agree with.

      “No strings attached,” Zac said, as if he’d read her mind. “It’s the least I can do for my family.”

      Well, that made sense. He hadn’t done too much for his family in the past. And she and Mikey were the only family he had now that Adrian had gone.

      “Well, if you insist,” she said, trying not to sound too grateful. No strings, he’d said. No, of course not. Zac Hammond didn’t believe in strings or getting involved in other people’s lives. Let him do something for his family in the short time he was here. He’d be gone soon, anyway. “I have more pressing matters to deal with,” she said with a shrug.

      “The damaged bore should be our first priority,” Vince said, drawing a quick frown from her. It was precisely what she’d been thinking herself. Did he have to treat her like an ignorant female who needed to have decisions made for her?

      She stifled her indignation. He was only trying to help. It was his job to help her. “I’ll call the contractor in the morning,” she said, wondering how in the world she was going to pay for it. The bank had refused further credit. “It’ll cost a bit to repair. If we need to sink a new bore, we…we might have to leave it for a while. It’ll cost an arm and a leg. Meantime, we’ll just have to move those cattle to another paddock.” Water for the cattle was vital.

      “If you need to sink a new bore,” Zac said, “I’ll see to it. You can pay me back when you can, Rachel.”

      She recoiled. To accept that kind of help from Zac would really put her in his debt. He’d have a real hold over her. She’d be in his power. He’d love that.

      “I don’t—”

      “A loan, Rachel. Just like you’d get from a bank. Only, I won’t be charging interest or putting any pressure on you to pay me back until you’re ready.”

      But maybe you’d put pressure on me to pay you back in some other way. She felt her legs go weak. Whatever his motive, he wasn’t making the offer out of the goodness of his heart. Zac Hammond had no heart, according to Adrian.

      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.