Unknown by Unknown Read Free Book Online Page B

man she supposed, couldn’t win where he had failed. Odd to think that a place like this could stage its little scandals, too. Craig, Elva, Roper. Larry Roper. Was Larry short for Lawrence? Or was it short for Lucy? She gave a long yawn. Lucy. Big Lucy. The Lucy River.
    Georgina slept.
    She awoke at dawn to primrose light buttering the uncurtained windowsill. There were no curtains anywhere, and Georgina felt tempted to make some from an old floral dress she hadn’t wanted to bring but had, because she had nowhere to leave it. I mustn’t, though, she thought sternly, that’s woman’s stuff. I must remember I’m George.
    She bathed in the basin and cooked herself breakfast, then she began exploring outside.
    She found the motorcycle and a quantity of petrol beside it, so she kicked the engine over and drove round the hut. The bike drove well and was easy to manage. She felt tempted to go further afield, but she decided to examine her nearer environs first.
    She was surprised at the green grass and the variety of flowers, flowers she did not recognise—flood flowers, Craig had called them. They grew more thickly here than any she had seen on the track coming up, but then this terrain must have received more rain, for the property was on the Lucy. Knowing the distances of the west, Georgina would not have liked to guess how far she was from the river. Probably in the Dry, when the river dwindled, it could be as much as a hundred kilometres, but following the Wet, as it was now, as little as several kilometres. That was one of the pleasant discoveries she would, put away for later. But work came first, work for the boss who had made all this possible. Georgina pulled on a canvas hat and began scouting around, firstly on foot.
    Even close to the hut the prospect was promising. There were several blackbutt trees, which was often a nickel indication, and some of the rock near them seemed likely host rock. Georgina believed there might even be the end of a serpentine belt. Where did the belt start?
    She decided not to look closely now but to look instead at the station. She left the bike where it was and walked the half-mile up to the homestead, hoping that she would encounter no one on the way. She and Craig had seen no one yesterday.
    But that, she soon realised, was an impossibility on a cattle station. Yesterday must have been an exception. Men were working in the paddocks, and they all waved to her. One called out: ‘How’s signs, Geo?’ to show he knew the language of her work.
    Georgina hoped she made a suitably friendly, noncommittal, mannish reply.
    She had not meant to call in at the homestead, but the housekeeper was on the verandah and saw her, so there was nothing for it but to go across when the woman went inside, to return holding aloft the time-honoured signal for tea.
    They had it together in the big kitchen, and Georgina remembered to sit right according to Tom Sawyer. Knees apart for girls, Mark Twain had written, so that their dresses could catch a ball, but knees together for boys because a boy has no assisting skirt.
    Mrs Willmott, meanwhile, was relating to Georgina how she was the only woman on the station.
    ‘What about the wives?’ Georgina asked. ‘Aren’t any of the stockmen married?’
    ‘None. They’re all like Mr Roper, bachelors. But don’t go getting any ideas that Air Roper orders it like that, he doesn’t. He simply prefers it himself, especially since....’
    But Mrs Willmott did not finish that.
    No, she proceeded proudly, ‘Mr Roper never dictates. Very tolerant, Mr Roper. He even has parties here at times for the younger ones. There are not many young fellows these days, they all drift to the city. We hold the do’s in the big barn. Then’—and Mrs Willmott smiled at Georgina ...
    ‘I’m not the only woman. You’ll enjoy yourself at the parties, George. There are plenty of pretty girls. My goodness, you do have a small appetite, not like my cattle boys.’
    They use up