Lydia tried not to dwell on Brigham or the reasons he had chosen not to come to Ballaburn. Her task was made easier by the demands Irish placed on her attention. He rarely asked for anything from her outright, but Lydia realized she was gradually assuming more and more responsibility for the things he wanted done. They worked daily on cataloguing the books in the library. He showed her how the accounts for the station were kept, how the revenue from the gold mines supported Ballaburn in lean years. She learned where the important papers were, had access to all of the station’s earnings and receipts, and was finally given the task of doing the payroll. Warming to Irish’s confidence in her abilities, Lydia was the only one surprised that she showed such aptitude. Over her bent head, as she worked on the accounts, Irish and Nathan exchanged glances that were at once pleased and amused.
“He’s grooming you to take control of Ballaburn,” Nathan told her one evening after Irish had gone to bed. He put down the book he was reading and crossed the study to where Lydia was working at the desk. Pushing one of the ledgers aside, Nathan rested his hip on the edge and casually leaned over her work.
Lydia’s brow creased as she concentrated on the lines of figures in front of her. Nathan’s shadow had fallen across the pages. “You’re blocking my light,” she said, waving him aside absently. “How can I know what I’m doing if I can’t—” The book was closed over her hand. “Nathan.”
“Nathan,” he mocked, using her tone precisely.
Lydia laughed and slipped her hand out from between the pages. She glanced at the cherry wood grandfather clock standing in one corner of the room. “My, it’s late. I hadn’t realized.”
“I know.”
It had been her practice each of the eight evenings since returning to Ballaburn to make her way to bed first. She would set out Nathan’s blankets and pillow, make certain there was fresh water in the basin for him, and turn back all the lamps but the one on his highboy dresser. He always gave her adequate time to prepare for bed herself before he came into the room. Lydia could have easily fallen asleep in that time, though she never did. Instead, she buried herself deep in the cool sheets and thick woolen blankets and pretended restfulness where none existed.
Lydia believed Nathan was probably aware she wasn’t sleeping, but he never mentioned it. Just as she never mentioned that although he said his sleeping accommodations were fine, she knew he tossed and turned on the hard floor. There were things better left unsaid, and privately they believed it was what made being together bearable. Or almost bearable. Neither of them thought for a moment that not talking about the tension between them made it nonexistent, but talking about it would have led to doing something, and that was the very thing they wanted to avoid.
“If you’re tired, I’ll go up now,” she said. She started to push away from the desk, but Nathan’s foot caught the seat of her chair and stayed her.
“If I’m tired, I can go up first. The sky won’t fall if we vary our routine a little.” His smile was faint. “As it happens, I’m not tired. I was going to go in the kitchen and make myself a cuppa. Would you like some?”
“Please. And if you can find any of Molly’s honey biscuits in there...”
“I’ll bring a feast,” he promised solemnly.
Nathan was as good as his word. Returning from the kitchen fifteen minutes later, he laid out a smorgasbord of treats in front of the fireplace and bid Lydia join him. She put her work away again and sat beside him on the edge of the woolen rug. Her dark blue skirt was spread around her as Lydia drew her legs to one side. She smoothed the folds and began to pick and choose among the cold meats, bread, and sweets that Nathan had brought.
“What did you mean by Irish grooming me to take control of Ballaburn?” she asked. “You weren’t serious, were you?”
“Very serious.” He poured himself a cup of tea. “Do you really doubt that’s what’s going on?”
“I’ve never thought about it. Ballaburn will be yours someday.”
“And yours through me. Irish doesn’t realize you intend to leave at the end of a year. He wants you to have a part in the success of the station. What he’s teaching you to do now could well give you complete control.”
“That’s absurd, Nathan.”
“Not so absurd when you realize that I don’t know the first thing about the accounting procedures. Irish has always kept that part of running the station to himself. I know everything about Ballaburn as far as its livestock and lands go. I can muster and shear and shoot and track, but what you’ve been doing most of this week I can’t do at all.” Turning his attention toward the fire, Nathan sipped his tea. “Someday I’ll have to hire someone who knows the things you know and hope like bloody hell they don’t cheat me.”
“I could teach you.”Or I could stay,she thought.
Or you could stay,he thought. “I’d like that,” he said. “It wouldn’t have to be everything. Just enough so no one makes a fool of me.”
“I don’t think that’s possible,” she said.
Her quick defense of him made Nathan smile. He watched her eyes stray to his dimples and the heat he saw in their depths was warmer than the fire. He looked away quickly, his smile fading. “I think Brig’s doing just that,” he said. “I don’t kid myself that he’s not somewhere around here.”
“You mean here at Ballaburn? How can that be? No one’s said anything.”
Nathan shook his head, angry at himself for bringing up the subject. Confronted with the sultry heat in Lydia’s eyes, knowing she didn’t mean for him to see it, he had said the first thing that came to his mind. “I don’t know that anyone else suspects. Some of the stockmen are reporting damage that could be animals…or could be bushrangers. A mob of sheep were maneuvered onto a ridge just west of here and chased over the edge into the gully. Wild dogs would explain it. So would Brig. I thought I might go out to Lion’s Ridge tomorrow and see if Brig’s staked out his property. He’s entitled to the land from the ridge to Willaroo Valley. He may have decided to camp there.”
“Don’t go,” Lydia said quickly. Her appetite fled at the thought of Nathan going out to find Brigham. “That is…um…couldn’t you send someone else? Jack would go for you.”
“Of course Jack would go, but I…What is it, Lydia? Do you think Brig’s waiting for me to leave so he can come here?”
It had never occurred to her. “It’s possible, isn’t it?”
Certainly it was possible, he thought. Anything was possible with Brig. The thing that worried Nathan was that he didn’t understand what Brigham was doing. If he was guilty of the attacks on Ballaburn, what was the purpose? If he wasn’t responsible, then where was he? Why hadn’t he returned home?
“I won’t go,” he said. “If it will make you feel better, I’ll send Jack and Pooley out to look over the property.”
