The Cattleman, The Baby and Me. Michelle Douglas

all tight again. ‘What about the main Jarndirri station? Will you be landing there?’ The Jarndirri homestead was several hundred kilometres northeast of the out station, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t on Sid’s mail route.

      Don’t be an idiot, she chided herself. You’re not going to accidentally bump into Anna or Lea out here. Neither was currently in residence at Jarndirri. Anna was in Broome with Jared, and Lea was at Yurraji—the property in the far north that her grandfather had left her.

      And Bryce had died six years ago. She wasn’t going to run into him.

      The plane bounced as it hit a pocket of turbulence. Sapphie’s stomach churned and bile rose up to burn her throat. Normally she was a good flyer.

      Normally? Ha! Normally she wouldn’t be flying over the northwestern corner of the Australian continent—one of the most remote regions in the world—without any form of invitation. And if she did it would be to see Anna or Lea, not to track down some man she’d never met in her life before.

      There was nothing normal about the turn her life had taken in the last two days.

      ‘The main Jarndirri station is on a different mail run,’ Sid said. ‘Mail delivery to this part of the Kimberley’s on a Thursday. Mail delivery to that part of the Kimberley’s on a Tuesday.’

      Sapphie closed her eyes for a moment, beyond grateful that she’d arrived in Broome yesterday. If she’d left it another day then she would have had to wait an entire week to catch the mail plane to Newarra. Broome was small. Anna would have heard that Sapphie was in town, and…

      And that didn’t bear thinking about.

      Beside her, Harry stirred. Sapphie held her breath. When he didn’t wake, she let it out in one long, slow exhalation. Please, please, please let him sleep for a bit.

      He needed the rest.

      He needed the peace.

      And she needed to think.

      What a mess! She’d have dropped her face to her hands, only she didn’t want Sid to see how desperate she was.

      ‘You’re looking a bit peaky,’ he said anyway.

      She had a feeling that as far as descriptions went ‘peaky’ was being kind. She wrestled for a smile. Sid had been kind. ‘Perhaps because I’m feeling kind of peaky.’

      He jerked his head in Harry’s direction. ‘Hardly surprising.’

      A surge of protectiveness washed over her. Harry might hate her, but she’d fallen in love with him from the first moment she’d clapped eyes on him. ‘He’s not a good flyer,’ she murmured.

      ‘Lots of kiddies aren’t.’

      ‘I’m sorry, Sid. This must have been the flight from hell for you, and—’

      ‘There’s nothing to apologise for,’ the pilot said gruffly.

      Yes, there was. There was a wealth of things to apologise for.

      Sapphie’s eyes burned. She closed her hand gently around Harry’s foot. How could she make up to him for everything that had happened? How could she help him feel loved and secure again? There weren’t enough apologies in the world to make up for the fact that Harry had been lumped with her instead of someone who would know what to do, who would know how to comfort him properly and ease his fears…someone who deserved the right to look after him. That person wasn’t her.

       There was no one else.

      ‘Oh, Harry,’ she whispered, bending over him and pushing the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. ‘I’m sorry.’

      She’d found out about Harry’s existence two days ago, when her nineteen-year-old sister, Emmy, had been arrested on drug charges. Two days ago…The day Sapphie had turned twenty-five. The same day she’d discovered Bryce Curran was her biological father.

      She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. She’d spent the last three years searching high and low for Emmy. With no success. When Emmy had rung two days ago Sapphie had thought it the best birthday present she’d ever received.

      But her little sister hadn’t rung to wish her a happy birthday. She hadn’t even remembered it was Sapphie’s birthday. She’d rung from Perth Central Police Station—‘I need help.’ When Sapphie had arrived, Emmy had pushed Harry into her arms with a fierce, ‘Promise me you’ll find his father.’

      Sapphie had promised. What else could she do? Somehow she’d let her little sister down in every way that counted. She would not fail her on this. She would find Harry’s father.

      She knew what it was like to grow up without a father, always wondering who he was, never knowing his identity. She would not let that happen to Harry.

      Unbidden, a ripple of relief speared through her. There was someone other than her who could take responsibility for Harry, and she thanked God for it. Emmy had given her dates, locations…and a name. ‘Liam Stapleton—a cattleman in the Kimberley. You’re familiar with the area. Anna and Lea Curran will help you if you ask them.’

      Sapphie had to wrestle with the bile that rose through her. She couldn’t ask them. Not now. Not knowing what she knew. If Anna and Lea ever discovered that Bryce had been unfaithful to their dying mother…and that Sapphie was the result of that infidelity…

      ‘You going to be sick?’

      Sapphie started, pulled in a breath and shook her head. She fought to find another smile. And won. ‘No, I’m just a bit worn out, that’s all.’

      ‘Why don’t you get some shut-eye like that littlie of yours? Do you the world of good.’

      Littlie of hers? She swallowed back the hysteria that threatened to swamp her. She didn’t have the energy to correct him. If she’d made a different decision seven years ago she might have a littlie now, but…

      She shied away from the thought. She couldn’t follow it. Not today. Not for as long as she was responsible for Harry.

      A weight slammed down on her so hard she half expected the plane to lose altitude. She gazed at Harry and a lump lodged in her throat. At eighteen she’d lacked her little sister’s courage. I’m sorry, Harry. I wish there was someone better to step up to the plate for you. I wish…

      ‘It’ll be another forty minutes before we reach Newarra.’

      Newarra—Liam Stapleton’s cattle station. Sapphie closed her eyes. ‘Thanks, Sid, a catnap might be just the thing.’ She had to save her energy. She’d need it all once they landed if she was to fulfil the promise she’d made to Emmy—to see that this Liam Stapleton accepted responsibility for his son.

      A wave of exhaustion hit her. It would be no easy task. Not when Liam Stapleton was as ignorant of Harry’s existence as Sapphie had been two days ago.

      ‘You did say Liam was expecting you, like—right?’

      ‘That’s right.’ Sapphie kept her eyes closed in case they betrayed her lie.

      ‘Looks like he’s waiting for you.’

      Her eyes flew open. They were flying over Newarra right now? She pressed her face to the window and took in the golden-green grasses and low scrub below, a stand of boab trees and the glint of a river in the distance. An enormous homestead emerged beneath them, the cool white of its weatherboards and the greenness of its surrounding gardens crisp and inviting in the harsh sunlight.

      And then the airstrip came into view. Waiting to one side was a white four-wheel drive ute. The air left her lungs on a whoosh. Emmy hadn’t lied. It appeared that Harry’s father was in charge of a cattle dynasty that rivalled Jarndirri’s in size and scope.

      The plane descended. She stared at the white ute and her stomach started to churn. She hadn’t rung Liam Stapleton. She hadn’t sent a telegram or an e-mail