“You’ll be gone again soon,” Mike said
Erin’s eyes flashed. “Define soon.”
“Look, I have no idea how long you’re staying, but I assume the farm will be sold and you’ll be off again....”
“Taking my pound of flesh with me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“It’s what you inferred,” Erin said coolly. “That I’m here for my share of my grandfather’s farm. And I don’t like the inference.”
“But you are here for a holiday?” Mike demanded, his eyes meeting hers. Challenging.
CHAPTER ONE
AUSTRALIA had the farm, Grandpa and Mike McTavish—but America was definitely safer! On the final stretch home, Erin swerved to miss two kangaroos, one snake and one fat wombat. Her final obstacle was trouble.
The twins were in the centre of the road on a blind bend. They were tiny, the suitcase between them shoulder-high, and their faces grim as death.
The children didn’t flinch as Erin hit the brakes. They didn’t seem to notice how close they’d come to tragedy. Instead, they tugged their suitcase sideways round her truck and trailer—and kept right on walking.
Neither child looked at Erin as she climbed from the truck. In fact both were concentrating fiercely on not looking at her.
‘Hi,’ Erin tried.
No response.
Erin looked dubiously down at her grubby jeans and filthy riding boots. These children were immaculately clothed in matching boy-girl outfits. They wore cute little sailor tops, with the boy in white trousers and the girl in a white skirt.
Erin looked and smelled of horse. She had to admit she seemed a great example of ‘dangerous strangers’. Convincing these children to trust her was going to be hard.
‘Do you two realize I nearly squashed you?’ Erin demanded, raising her voice.
Still nothing. The children tugged their suitcase grimly on.
This wasn’t normal kids’ adventure, Erin decided, looking at their slumped shoulders and general dejection. These children had real misery driving them.
She couldn’t leave them here. They looked about six years old—certainly not old enough to be on their own. The road twisted through the hills and the next driver might not be handicapped by an ancient truck and a horse trailer. The children would have no chance against a fast car.
So Erin moved to block their path. She walked purposefully in front of them, lifted their suitcase from their grasp and hauled it over to the grass verge. Then she squatted so her eyes were on their level.
‘Excuse me, but you two nearly caused an accident,’ she growled softly, watching their faces for reaction. ‘I had to stop so fast I might have injured my horse. You can’t ignore me. It’s your responsibility to at least see what damage you’ve done.’
Boy and girl looked at each other.
Fear receded a little. This wasn’t a stranger accosting them. This was someone reminding them of their duty.
‘I... We’re sorry,’ the little girl quavered. ‘We didn’t mean to...’
‘That’s all very well,’ Erin said firmly. ‘But we need to check my horse. Stay off the road while I do it.’ She turned her back on the children and concentrated on opening the trailer.
Erin was almost sure Paddy was okay. Her old horse was sure-footed and calm—a veteran of years of international travel—and he’d coped with greater jolts to his trailer than this.
As Erin opened the trailer her horse swivelled to look at her with huge, reproachful eyes. His eyes almost spoke. ‘Now what?’ he seemed to be saying, and it was as much as Erin could do not to laugh.
‘Oh, Paddy, I’m sorry.’ She walked forward to stroke his nose. Another glance at the two watching children—another fast moment of thought—and then Erin shoved the ramp down and backed Paddy out onto the roadside.
Paddy clattered obediently out like the gentleman he was. He stood in the sun, gazed appreciatively at the surrounding countryside and then put his nose down to the grass and started to graze.
‘He looks okay,’ the little girl said doubtfully. The fear in the children’s eyes had faded further, but their hands still clutched.
It was a start.