Twenty-two years later…

 

JOHNNY ELLIS rode into the old western town that had been built for the movie. Behind him was the Arizona desert. In front of him was the film crew, cameras rolling. It was all he could do to keep a straight face, in keeping with the character he was playing—cowboy on a mission.

An inner grin was twitching at the corners of his mouth. On the country and western music scene, he’d made it to the top, selling umpteen platinum albums of his songs, but this was Johnny’s first movie and he was having fun, doing something beyond even his wildest dreams.

Having learnt to ride at Gundamurra, he was a natural on a horse, and being big and tall—there weren’t many movie stars with his physique—had snagged him the part. Of course, he did have a box-office name, too, a point his agent had made much of. Whatever…he was here doing it, and it sure tickled him to think of himself as following in John Wayne’s footsteps.

Mitch and Ric had laughed about it, too.

But he had to be dead serious now. The cameras were zeroing in to do close-ups. Time to dismount, tie his reins to the rail, walk into the saloon, cowboy on a mission. This

was the last take of the day, the light was right for it, and Johnny didn’t want to mess it up. He was a professional

performer, used to being onstage, and getting it right was

second nature to him.

He didn’t miss a step. The saloon doors swung shut behind him and the director yelled, ‘Cut!’ Johnny allowed himself a grin as he came back out to the street, confident there’d be no need to do this scene again. The grin grew wider when he spotted Ric Donato lurking behind the camera crew.

His old friend had made the time to come!

Johnny had invited him to the film set, the moment Ric had called to say he was in L.A., checking on that branch of his worldwide photographic business. It was a pity Lara

and the kids weren’t with him. Ric’s wife was one lovely lady and their children had the trick of melting Johnny’s heart, they were just so endearing. Little Patrick, who’d turned three just before last Christmas, would have loved a ride in the camera crane.

‘Great to see you, Ric!’ He greeted his old friend with immense pleasure. ‘Want to be introduced around?’

‘No.’

The quick and sober reply took Johnny aback. He instantly regrouped, seeing that Ric didn’t look too good. In fact, he looked downright pained, something bad eating at him. No happy flash in his usually brilliant dark eyes. They were dull, sick.

‘Could we go to your trailer, Johnny? Have some privacy?’

‘Sure.’

He gestured the way and they walked side by side, not

touching. Any other time Johnny would have thrown an arm

around Ric’s shoulders, hugging his pleasure in his friend’s company, but that didn’t feel right, not with Ric so uptight and closed into himself. Johnny’s stomach started churning. It always did when he sensed something bad coming.

He couldn’t wait until they reached his trailer. ‘What is it, Ric? Tell me!’ he demanded grimly.

A deep, pent-up breath was expelled. ‘I had a call from Mitch,’ he stated flatly. ‘Megan called him.’

‘Megan Maguire?’

A vivid image of Patrick Maguire’s youngest daughter instantly flew into Johnny’s mind—a wild bunch of red curls, freckled face, eyes the grey of stormy clouds, always projecting fierce independence, spurning his every offer of help with work on the station, defying him to imply in any way that she wasn’t fit and able to run Gundamurra just as well as her father did.

Which was probably true. She’d worked towards it, not wanting to do anything else with her life. Johnny knew he’d never made any criticism of that choice. He actually admired her very capable handling of the work she did. What he didn’t understand was why she couldn’t just ride along with his company whenever he visited, make him as welcome as her father did. She invariably shunned him as

much as possible and when she couldn’t, her scorn of his

chosen career invariably slipped out.

Yet she’d liked listening to him play his guitar when she was a kid, hanging on his every word when he sang. Why she’d grown up into such a hard, judge-mental woman he

didn’t know, but be damned if he’d let her attitude towards him keep him away from Gundamurra. Patrick was like a father to him. Best father any guy could have.

‘Patrick…’ He felt it in his gut. ‘Something’s happened to Patrick.’

Another hissed breath from Ric, then… ‘He’s dead, Johnny.’

Shock slammed into his heart. His feet stopped walking. He shook his head, refusing to believe it. Denial gravelled from his throat as it started choking up. ‘No…no…’

‘Two nights ago,’ Ric said in a tone that made the fact unequivocal, and he went on, quietly hammering home the intolerable truth. ‘He died in his bed. His heart gave out. No-one knew until the next morning. Megan found him. Nothing could be done, Johnny. He was gone.’

Gone…

Leaving a huge black hole—a bottomless pit that Johnny kept tumbling down. He was barely aware of Ric’s hand gripping his elbow, steering him. His feet moved automatically. He saw nothing. It wasn’t until Ric thrust a glass of whisky into his hand that he realised he was sitting on the couch in the mobile home provided by the movie company.

‘It’s a hell of a blow. For all of us, Johnny.’

He nodded. Couldn’t speak. Forced a swallow of whisky down his throat.

‘I’ve booked flights to Australia for both of us. I guess you’ll need to clear that with your people here. Might mean a delay in their schedule if they can’t shoot around your

absence.’

The movie…meaningless now.

The deep ache of loss consumed him. Ric had Lara and their children. Mitch had Kathryn, with a baby on the way. They’d both made homes of their own. For Johnny, Gundamurra and Patrick was home, and with Patrick gone…it was like having the roots of his life torn out of him.

There was no longer any reason for him to go back. Megan wouldn’t want him there.

But he had to go back this one last time…say goodbye to the man who’d always treated him as a son, even though he was no blood relation. Megan couldn’t begrudge him that. Ric and Mitch would be there with him. All three of them, remembering what Patrick had given them…the big heart of the man…

Why had it stopped?

He looked up at Ric, his inner anguish bursting into speech. ‘He was only in his seventies.’

‘Seventy-four,’ came the quiet confirmation.

‘He was so strong. He should have lived to a hundred, at least.’

‘I guess we all thought that, Johnny.’

‘It’s only been three months since Christmas. He looked well then. Same as ever.’

Ric shook his head. ‘There were no warning signs. Maybe the stress of the drought, having to kill so many sheep, lay off staff…’

‘I offered help. Whatever was needed to tide them over, see them through the drought however long it went on. You

know I’ve got money to burn, Ric.’

Ric’s mouth twisted into an ironic grimace. ‘I made the same offer. Most likely Mitch did, too.’

‘He helped us, dammit! Why couldn’t he let us help him?’ Johnny’s hands clenched. ‘I bet it was Megan who wouldn’t take what we offered. Too much damned pride. And

Patrick wouldn’t go against her.’

‘Don’t blame Megan, Johnny. She’s got enough to carry without a load of guilt over her father’s death. I’d deal kindly with her if I were you. Very kindly. Patrick would want you to.’

‘Yes, I know, I know…’ He unclenched his hands, opening them in a helpless gesture. ‘I’ll miss him.’

Ric nodded, looked away, but not before Johnny caught the sheen of moisture glittering in his dark eyes. It was a heart-twisting reminder that Patrick had been like a father to all three of them, not just him. Ric was hurting, too. And Mitch…

Mitch was probably already at Gundamurra, giving whatever support was needed, making the legal business of death as easy as he could. Being a top-line lawyer, he’d do that for Patrick’s daughters. There wasn’t just Megan to consider, but Jessie and Emily, as well. They’d all be in

shock. Ric was right. Patrick would expect his boys to deal kindly with them.

‘We don’t know why he died,’ Ric said brusquely. ‘Maybe it was just…his time to go. No point in railing against it, Johnny. We’ve got to get moving to make the flights home. Are you okay to do whatever you’ve got to do

before we leave?’

He gulped down some more whisky. It helped burn away the welling of tears behind his eyes. ‘Ready to go,’ he asserted just as brusquely, rising to his feet. ‘Let me make a few calls first, clear the way.’

 

 

Helicopter to Phoenix, flight to Los Angeles…many hours passed before Ric and Johnny could finally board the Qantas jet to Sydney and settle in their seats for the longest leg of their journey over the Pacific Ocean. The flight steward offered them champagne. They both declined, choosing orange juice instead. It was not a time for champagne.

A question had been niggling at Johnny. ‘Why didn’t Mitch call me direct? It would have saved you coming to get me, Ric.’

‘We thought it was better this way…the two of us travelling together.’

‘Well, I’m glad to have your company but we could have linked up here for this flight.’

Ric slanted him a wry look. ‘You might not have co- operated with that plan. You have a habit of doing things your own way. This course ensured I’d be with you.’

Johnny frowned. ‘You thought I needed my hand held?’ ‘No. It’s all a matter of timing. There’s more, Johnny.

Mitch didn’t want to load it on you all at once over the phone. He gave that job to me with the advice to let you get over the shock of Patrick’s death first.’

The nerves in his stomach started knotting up again. ‘So

hit me with the more. I’m sitting down and locked in. What else do I have to absorb?’

Ric looked at him, decided he was ready for it, and let him have it. ‘Patrick’s will. Mitch held it. He’s opened it.’

‘Well, that can’t be bad.’ Instant relief. ‘Patrick was always fair.’

‘Prepare yourself for another shock, Johnny. There’s a huge mortgage on Gundamurra and you’re about to inherit half of it.’

‘What?’ Incredulity blanked out several million brain cells.

‘Not quite half. You get forty-nine percent of Gundamurra and Megan gets fifty-one, leaving her in the driver’s seat where she’s always expected to be. But she won’t have expected to share her inheritance with you, Johnny. The normal thing would be a three-way split with her sisters.’

Co-owner of Gundamurra with Megan?

‘Mitch thought you should be prepared…get your head around it before we arrive at Gundamurra,’ Ric went on.

Johnny’s head was spinning. What did it mean?

Why would Patrick cut out his two older daughters? Why make him co-owner rather than Ric or Mitch?

A sense of horror billowed through him. He reached out and gripped his friend’s arm. ‘I didn’t ask for this, Ric. I swear I knew nothing about it.’

‘I didn’t think you did, Johnny,’ Ric assured him. ‘I have no doubt Patrick planned it himself.’

‘But why me? It’s not right, not…’ His mind fumbled for words. ‘Did he…did he explain to Mitch when he drafted the will?’

Ric shook his head. ‘Mitch wasn’t in on drafting it. Patrick did it himself and sent it to him sealed for safe- keeping two months ago.’

‘Two months…’ Johnny shook his head in bewilderment. ‘He must have made up his mind after Christmas.’

‘Maybe he knew he didn’t have long to live.’ ‘Dammit! Why wouldn’t he tell us? We were all at

Gundamurra for Christmas.’

‘If Patrick thought it was the last one for him, he wouldn’t have wanted to spoil it.’

‘But…’ Johnny lifted his hands in helpless frustration. ‘Want to know what Mitch thinks?’

He waved a go-ahead, completely beyond imagining what had motivated such an extraordinary step.

‘Patrick elected you to save Gundamurra. It’s highly unlikely that Megan can do it by herself. The way things are going with the drought, she won’t be able to service the mortgage. And it was you who always thought of it as home. Not me. Not Mitch. You.’

Johnny frowned. ‘Mitch had a home with his mother and sister, but I thought you…’ He searched Ric’s eyes.

A very direct gaze accompanied his reply. ‘You needed it more than I did, Johnny. And you can’t deny it touches something in your soul. It comes out in your songs.’

Need…yes. There was so much hype and superficial crap in the career he had chosen, so much touring to make

his success stick, it was the thought of Gundamurra that kept him sane, grounded, and going back there always put his world in perspective again—what was real, what wasn’t.

‘It won’t be the same without Patrick.’ Grief squeezed his

heart. ‘He was the soul of Gundamurra.’ ‘You’re forgetting Megan.’

Megan.

His mind shied away from thinking of her right now. Already he could see those stormy grey eyes hating him for being given half of her place, wishing he’d never set foot on Gundamurra, let alone have any claim on it.

‘Patrick forgot his other daughters, Jessie and Emily,’ he said, tearing his mind off the one daughter who’d become such a nagging thorn in his side.

‘They’ve both made their lives away from Gundamurra and Patrick financed their ambitions,’ Ric reminded him. ‘I think they’ll feel they’ve had their share. Jessie has her medical degree and the women’s clinic she wanted at Alice Springs. Emily has her helicopter business at Cairns. The money to set them up was taken out of Gundamurra, probably contributing to the current debt. They can’t be unaware of that.’

True enough, Johnny silently acknowledged, yet the family home was the family home. Leaving them out and putting him in might very well stir a sense of injustice. He couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable about this inheritance

on many counts. On the other hand, Patrick had wanted him there and it was impossible to discount a decision

which would not have been taken lightly.

‘It’s up to you and Megan to pull Gundamurra through this bad patch and revive it, Johnny,’ Ric gravely assured him. ‘Patrick got it right.’ He sighed and softly added, ‘He

always got it right.’

It was some relief that Ric thought so. Mitch, too, apparently.

But no way was Megan was going to accept it gracefully.

Jessie and Emily might not, either, though Ric was right about their interests lying elsewhere and Patrick had put large investments behind their chosen careers. Besides which, both of them were married to men who shared those interests, Jessie’s husband being a doctor for the Royal Doctor Flying Service, and Emily’s husband a fellow helicopter pilot.

Only Megan was unmarried.

Not surprising with her bristling form of feminism, Johnny thought, wishing she’d stayed in the sweetly amenable little sister mould that he’d always found so engaging. That much younger Megan had never minded him stepping in and helping.

The flight steward came and took their glasses. The plane was about to take off. Johnny leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes and tried to relax. Fourteen hours to Sydney. Then the flight to Gundamurra in the far north west of New South Wales…the outback.

He felt the pull of it in his mind…the vast, seemingly empty land, wide-open space, searingly blue sky. It had a rhythm all its own—one that always felt good. The only

jarring note was Megan standing in the middle of it, waiting for him, furiously frustrated because she had to share Gundamurra with him.

Had Patrick got it right?

The financial part, yes. Johnny could pour millions into Gundamurra without a pang of personal loss. Mortgage gone with a simple transfer of money. Plus all the investment Megan needed to maintain the sheep station, eventually making it into a thriving concern again. But she certainly wouldn’t welcome him into the life there. Over the past few years, her eyes had been branding him as an unwanted intruder, wanting him out.

But I’m in, Johnny thought on a surge of grim determination to keep what Patrick had granted him, regardless of Megan’s reaction to it. He was co-owner. That gave him the right to be at Gundamurra whenever he wanted to and Megan would just have to stomach having him as her helpmate. Maybe, given time, he could whittle away whatever prejudice she had against him.

The leaden weight of grief eased as a strong sense of purpose grew. The outback was primitive—man against nature—a constant challenge that had to be won, just to survive, let alone prosper.

Above all else, Johnny was a survivor.

He wanted this challenge. Maybe he needed it. So come what might, he was going to hold his ground on Gundamurra. Patrick had entrusted it to him.