The Auction Trilogy

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

A girl never forgets her first, great love. Tall and golden-haired, with deep brown eyes and ears which perked forward every time I entered the stall, I had no interest in any other male but Harvey. Why should I when, at the end of each day, he waited patiently at the gate for my return? He would listen non-judgmentally as I spilled forth my woes; and then he would carry me to freedom beyond the stable.

When she killed him, that b***h who called herself my mother, I cried for weeks, and then I ran away. Oh, sure, she sic'd the police on me and made them haul me back from the airport, but I got back at her. Yes I did! The day I turned eighteen, I moved out of the house and asked Dad to cut off Mother's child support. It was a fitting punishment, to watch her lose the house, because she put down my horse to get back at him for leaving her.

Perhaps it was karma that now I was losing my own home?

I forced back a tear as my 'second great love' helped me carry my belongings out of the apartment we'd shared for the last three years. He acted as though the green garbage bag containing my pillow was heavy as it bumped against his lanky frame. I heaved a crate full of textbooks into the back of my red 2007 Ford Falcon and stepped aside so he could stuff it between the boxes.

"That's everything you brought—" he spoke in a monotone. "The rest is mine."

Brown-haired and brown-eyed, Gregory Schluter looked awkward in a crisp white pinstripe dress shirt. A 'matched pair' everyone called us through four years at the University of Queensland, although my hair was long and I had the black eyes of a Gitano grandmother. Gregory's brown Barren loafers pointed back at the door as though at any moment he might spook and bolt into the safety of our old flat.

"That's right, this stuff is mine—" my dark eyes bored into his. "And now you'll be rid of me!"

Gregory skittered back as I slammed the car door, as though fearful I might curse him, or lob something at his head.

"Don't say it like that, Rosie—" his voice warbled. "You make it sound like I'm throwing out the trash."

"Aren't you?" My voice turned bitter.

"We're just different, that's all," he said. "We never had much in common."

I clenched my jaw, refusing to get sucked into an argument so he could blame me for the demise of our relationship. We'd met as freshers, moved into an off-campus apartment our second year, and for the next three years I'd worked while Gregory studied so he could graduate magna c*m laude. Our dream wedding was supposed to happen just after the New Year. Instead, the moment he landed a job, the bloody bastard asked me to give him back his engagement ring.

"Fine." I fought back tears as I rummaged for my car keys. "You'll never have to see me again!"

His voice took on a high-pitched pleading edge. "Can't we just be friends?"

I met his gaze. Gregory's brown eyes darted back towards the apartment which would be empty as soon as the moving van took his stuff to the luxury condo he'd just conned his new girlfriend into putting a down payment on in Sydney.

"No." I lifted my chin. "You're a bloody user, and I'm all done being used!"

That sense of knowing I'd inherited from my Gitano grandmother rippled through me as I felt any connection I might have left to the bloody bastard die. I plopped down into my Falcon and turned the key, not bothering to buckle my seatbelt as I jammed the car into gear. The tires chirped and Gregory yelped. Good! I hope I'd run over the bludger's foot!

The V6 revved like a muscle car as I sped out of Brisbane onto highway A2. The sense of strength was illusory, a symptom of a muffler which needed to be replaced, but it felt strong and I needed every ounce of strength I could get.

"Jerk!" I screeched at the open highway.

I drove, unseeing, until the urban landscape transformed into amber waves of pasture. The grass had become desiccated into a pleasing golden color which reminded me of Harvey's mane. Little by little, my tears abated. This was horse country, the kind of place I'd dreamed about moving to once I got a place of my own; where Harvey would have run free instead of standing in a paddock.

I turned on the radio where the Australian Top-40 sang of babes and boobs and betrayal. The Madden Brothers came on with their corny jingle, and after a while my fingers began to tap the tempo of 'We Are Done.'

My petrol tank light began to blink. I pulled off the nearest exit and found a servo not too far off the highway. After a quick trip to the toilet, I waited in line to pay and scanned the headlines on the newspaper stand.

— Drought Decimates Outback Stations —

Next to it a full-color rag sheet had some blonde bimbo and the latest chapter in her high-profile divorce:

— Oil Heiress Jets Off With Venezuelan Billionaire —

A machine rolled hot dogs, two for $5 plus a bag of chips and a fizzy drink. I could almost taste the crisp bite of sausage blended with soft white bread, yellow mustard and sauerkraut, but until I found a job, I was just another battler with too much week and not enough money. It was better to eat the Vegemite and bread I'd tossed into my car.

I asked the kid behind the counter for directions to the address Professor Dingle had scribbled on a piece of paper and learned it was another half-hour from here to Toowoomba; beyond that the kid wasn't sure. I went back outside and proceeded to fill up the Falcon.

An ancient Buick pulled into the opposite pump, the kind you usually see on 'classic car night.' A little old lady got out and went inside to pay, her white-blue hair and magenta lipstick clashing with her orange clothing. Her equally elderly husband opened up the petrol cap. He gave me a jack-o-lantern grin.

"G'day, miss," he said. "Ain't seen you around here before."

"I'm just passing through."

I stared at the petrol pump as the numbers crept up to $60, half of the money I had left in this world. If I didn't land this job, every penny I had would be spent driving out to the interview.

"You headed to the horse auction?" the old man asked.

"Horse auction?" The equestrian in me piqued with interest.

The old man gestured to a red cardboard sign with an arrow that said, 'Lockyer Horse & Saddlery Auctions.'

"They hold it the first Saturday of every month," he said. "But lately its' been every other weekend 'cause of the drought. Most people who come off the highway are hunting for the auction."

I pulled out the slip of paper I'd tucked into my pocket, the one Professor Dingle, my former Child Psychology professor had given me after I'd broken down in her office and told her I had no place to go.

"I have a job interview in the Darling Downs near Nutyoon."

"Nutyoon?" the old man's eyebrows bunched together. "That's beyond the black stump."

"Yup."

We stood in silence as the petrol pump clacked through the numbers. The wife shuffled out, her enormous white purse tucked beneath her arm. She gave me that appraising look all women do whenever they spy a younger woman chatting it up with their husband.

"She going to the horse auction?" the wife asked.

"Nope," the old man said. "She's going to Nutyoon. She's got a job interview out there."

"Nutyoon?" the woman snorted. "Ain't nuthin' out there but dying fields. Drought's hit everything hard. The farmers keep coming here, trying to sell their stock before the poor things starve to death, though there's so many of them that most end up going to the doggers. Won't be no jobs for no farm hands in Nutyoon."

Her voice sounded caustic, but her blue eyes were filled with worry as she took in my worldly belongings piled into the back seat of my car.

"I'll be taking care of a kid," I said. "The position includes my room and board."

"Well I should hope so!" she said. "Cause there ain't much for hotels in that part of the country. Ain't nuthin' but wheat and cows."

The couple gave me directions to loop back up to the A2. As I pulled out, I glanced at the sign which said 'Lockyer Horse & Saddlery Auctions.' Once upon a time … no! I pushed the wish out of my mind. First I had to find a job, and then save money for a new apartment. Moving in with my mother wasn't an option, and my father had moved back to Spain when I was sixteen.

I hit Toowoomba exactly as the kid had promised and then headed southwest on the A39. The highway narrowed into a two-lane road, and the landscape grew flatter and definitely drier. I turned on the air conditioner, but it did little good. The landscape took on a reassuring sameness. Only the slight variation in shades of beige indicated where the endless fields of wheat turned into barley and sorghum. Even to my untrained eye, the crops looked too dry for this early in the growing season.

At last I came to the exit given in my directions. I turned off into an even narrower road which cut in a straight line through sparse, scrubby trees; though occasionally to my right I could see a glimmer of water. I drove forever until at last I saw the dirt road which would lead to my destination.

A small, wooden sign said 'Condamine River Ranch.' Beneath it was taped a poster board with large purple letters that said —Welcome Rosamond—. A pink sparkly unicorn graced one side of the sign, and on the other a crooked rainbow disappeared into a pot of gold guarded over by a fairy. A lump rose in my throat as I read the scrawled, childish text that said 'don't be scared of Thunderlane' along with a stick-figure dog.

I knew the little girl's name was Pippa. Her parents were recently divorced, and she lived with her father who traveled a lot on business. Beyond that, I would find out the rest when I got there. I pulled out my mobile phone and snapped a photo. There was only one bar, not enough reception to upload it for my friends, so I just hit 'save.' Not since my dad moved back to Spain had anybody cared enough to make me feel welcome. Maybe this gig wouldn't be so bad?

My car shuddered as I rattled over the cattle grid. A long dirt driveway wound forever through overgrown fields, but there was nary a cow in sight. At last an enormous white monitor-barn came into view. Across the courtyard stood a modest yellow ranch-style house surrounded by faded grass, empty window-boxes, and overgrown hedges. A black and tan Australian shepherd came running out, barking.

"You must be Thunderlane?"

I pulled up next to a dilapidated green utility vehicle that was parked beside a sports car covered with a beige dust cover.

"Hey, puppy?" I reassured the dog as I got out of my car. I held out my hand so he could sniff it. The dog wiggled and then ran back towards the house, yapping.

A girl with white-blonde hair and pigtails came bounding out.

"She's here! Daddy! She's here!"

She was dressed entirely in pink; hot pink shorts and a pale pink top with My Little Pony plastered on the front.

"You must be Rosamond?"

"That would be me—" I found it easy to smile. "And you must be Pippa."

"Did you see the sign?"

"I did. Thank you. It made me feel very welcome."

The little girl grinned. She had, I noticed, unusual grey eyes, so pale they glistened silver in the sunlight.

"Daddy was afraid he wouldn't find someone to come all the way out here, so I thought if I made a sign, maybe you'd want to stay?"

That lump which had sat in my craw all the way from Brisbane eased up just a little.

"That's not up to me. It's up to your father."

The aforementioned father moved towards us, dressed casually in snug blue denims that accentuated his long stride. He wore a plaid, short-sleeved shirt typical of station owners, but it had a designer cut, not the usual department-store fare. He stood nearly two meters tall, broad-shouldered with golden-brown hair and aristocratic features that would have been devastatingly handsome if his face hadn't been pinched with worry. He held out his hand.

"Miss Xalbadora?"

My hand tingled as his fingers closed around mine. I stared into the most remarkable pair of eyes I've ever seen, blue-green with a halo of aquamarine which swirled around a dark iris like the ocean around the Great Barrier Reef. I tried to guess his age and placed it as perhaps ten years older than me?

"That's Rosamond—" I stumbled on my words. "Please. Most people call me Rosie."

Damn! Just four hours ago I'd been crying my heart out over Gregory.

"I'm Adam. Adam Bristow." He raised one golden eyebrow as he spied my car, filled floor to ceiling with everything I owned. "Would you like some help carrying in your things?"

My cheeks turned pink with mortification. It had never occurred to me that my potential employer would see my car before he made a decision about hiring me.

"I thought this was a preliminary interview?"

Adam scowled.

"Roberta Dingle is a close friend of my wi— um, my former wife. She arranged this interview. Not me." His voice rose with an edge of anger. "My wife was supposed to take Pippa for the summer and then she refused. As far as she's concerned, she can simply line up a governess!"

"Oh—" I realized I'd stepped into a hornet's nest. "Who will I be working for? You? Or your ex-wife?"

Adam squeezed his temples.

"Me," he said bitterly. "It has always fallen to me."

I glanced at my car, wondering if this was a snake pit I wished to step into. There was nothing back in Brisbane, and I refused go crawling to my mother. Perhaps Sienna's mom might put me up for a couple of weeks, at least until I found a job?

A small hand slid into mine.

"Please stay?" Pippa's silver eyes clouded with worry. "Mrs. Hastings sent over some muffins in case you were hungry. Would you like some tea?"

Adam's expression softened. He was not angry at me. He was angry because the poor kid's mother had blown her off and left him holding the bag.

I remembered the welcome sign way down at the gate. I needed a job. The little girl needed a caretaker. And Adam? What did he need?

"Well perhaps you would like to know more about me?" I suggested.

Adam wore a cautious expression.

"I do have a few questions?"

"Okay." I took Pippa's hand and spoke to her this time. "But first I'd love some tea. And then I need to discuss some things with your father."

Pippa skipped happily back into the house. The dog ran behind her, its tail wagging like a fluffy black propeller. Just because I didn't have anywhere to go didn't mean I needed to act like I was desperate.

The inside of the house felt like stepping into a 1970's sitcom, complete with dark paneling and furniture so old it had gone out of style and then come back in again. Pippa dragged me over to a worn upholstered chair and then plopped down onto the matching garish orange couch, admonishing the dog not to jump up with her. An adult's tea set had been painstakingly laid out on the coffee table along with a checkered table runner and matching napkins. I sank into the chair which was far more comfortable than attractive.

Adam stepped into the adjacent kitchen, and then back out again carrying a tray laden with muffins.

"Mrs. Hastings has been helping me take care of Pippa," he said. "But she's seventy-two years old. Last week she fell and bruised her hip."

I glanced around, wondering if somebody else lived here. Pippa bounced up to snatch a muffin from the tray.

"She lives at the station across the road. She used to babysit Daddy when he was little." Her voice dropped low. "That was before Grandma died."

Adam cleared his throat.

"My mother passed away three weeks ago from breast cancer. We came out here to help her manage her estate, but Pippa likes it here and it's commutable to my job."

"Professor Dingle mentioned you travel a lot," I said. "What do you do for work?"

"I evaluate shale for its suitability to extract natural gas and oil."

"Fracking?"

"Not exactly." Adam frowned, his expression thoughtful. "Coal seam gas. There are pockets of it all over Queensland."

I bit my tongue, rather than repeat what my greenie friends said about the harm to the Earth. The last time I checked, the oil fairy hadn't come down from the sky to fill up my petrol tank.

"So you have another house somewhere?"

Adam looked away. "That's one of the things I need to decide over the summer. Originally, I'd hoped…"

He trailed off, his chiseled features filled with a combination of anger, sadness and disbelief. It was the expression I'd worn ever since Gregory told me he didn't want to marry me.

"Daddy said if we stay, maybe I can get a horse!" Pippa's eyes shone bright with anticipation.

"Do you ride?"

"A little. Last summer Mummy sent me away to horseback riding camp."

Adam's features hardened into an unreadable expression. I waited for him to begin the interview, but his sharp eyes watched the way I interacted with his daughter as she served me tea. I decided it might be better if -I- asked the questions.

"I understand Pippa has missed some school?"

"For the past year, Pippa has been homeschooled, but I hope to enroll her in a regular school come the autumn. I'd appreciate it if you could make sure she's ready."

"That's what I'm trained to do," I said. "What other duties would I be expected to perform?"

Adam sipped his tea. The porcelain teacup looked ridiculously small and fragile in his enormous hands.

"Many of the test wells I oversee are within a day's drive, but the other wells are out in the Surat Basin. I staved off checking them, thinking I could cram them in while Pippa was with her mother, but I can't leave them unsupervised any longer. If I do, I could lose my job."

"When do you have to leave?"

"My first trip into the outback begins the day after tomorrow," Adam said. "For the most part, I will come and go until the end of January."

"That barely gives you any time to get to know me?"

Adam snorted with disgust.

"Roberta Dingle swears you're the hardest-working student she's ever met. She said you're an excellent teacher with a knack for sensitive and gifted children?"

Hard-working, yes, but it would be a stretch to call me an excellent teacher. I'd graduated on the pity-plan after Ms. Dingle let me make up a test after I'd been held up at work.

"And who would I call if there's ever a problem?" I asked. "I don't know anybody out here. I don't even know where the nearest emergency room is."

"Mrs. Hastings has agreed to babysit Pippa one afternoon a week so you have some time for yourself." Adam's voice took on a bitter edge. "I trust her implicitly. She convinced me it would be better to care for my daughter here rather than send her away to camp."

Pippa's gaze sank into her teacup.

"Besides," he added when he saw my hesitation. "We do have a hospital. It's just that it's little more than a day-clinic."

"Okay," my voice sounded small. "I hate to ask, but how much…"

"Five hundred dollars a week, plus a two thousand dollar bonus at the end of the summer. That includes your room and board, as well as expenses and any meals you take with Pippa."

I glanced at the little girl who stared at me with hopeful silver eyes. It was a generous offer with few expenses, the little girl was cute, and it would keep me busy while I licked my wounds from Gregory's betrayal. It would also give me enough money to put a first, last and security deposit on a nice apartment as well as a financial buffer until I found a permanent job. Besides, when was the last time somebody had made me a welcome sign?

"When do I start?"

For the first time, Adam gave me a genuine smile. The lines around his eyes disappeared and the years fell away, revealing he didn't appear to be that much older than me.

"Right away. Starting with making sure Miss Muffet washes up the teacups. Out here, everybody has to pull their weight."

He stuck out his hand.

"Deal?"

I took his hand and shook it.

"Deal."