reveal his association with the Gordons in Australia.
‘Sounds like he’s not coming for a social visit. Well, what’s he like? Can we sway his mind?’ He’d crossed his arms defensively, stuck out his chin a little.
‘How the hell would I know? Your thoughts are as good as mine at this point.’
‘Well actually you probably have the edge, after all you’ve met him on his home turf and he didn’t fall in love with me.’
For a moment Sarah felt like screaming for everything to just stop. She took a deep breath. ‘It’s the 8th in four days,’ she calculated. ‘Shit, I can’t believe Grandfather did this to me. Dividing up the place like a piece of cake. It’s made everything impossible.’
Anthony stared back at her, shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘It must have been a real shock to learn Wangallon wasn’t going to be left solely to you.’
They stood for a moment facing each other. A flock of tiny jenny wrens flew past them. Bullet jumped up and chased them into the bougainvillea hedge.
‘Well, I’ll let you arrange things with the solicitor.’ Anthony’s voice was flat. ‘You do know that we will have to sell part of the property to pay him out?’
From inside the homestead Sarah heard something breaking, like a glass being dropped. She turned towards the noise. They both did.
‘Probably the wind,’ Anthony stated. ‘We’ll need to make more money off the remaining property because our debt will remain the same. Have a think about how we might do that before you crucify me for trying to do us both a favour.’
Sarah looked at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. When she looked up Anthony was gone, Bullet was sitting waiting for her and the house was silent.
That night Sarah lay quietly in bed listening to Anthony’s soft snoring. He’d returned late and the whiff of cigarette smoke and stale beer signalled a night at the pub. Sleep eluded her as she struggled with the weight of the past few days. Finally she left the bedroom to walk down the hallway to her grandfather’s room. The low wattage light overhead illuminated the room in a yellowish tinge as Sarah sat in the middle of the large bed. It was cold in the room and she felt uneasy, as if she were invading someone else’s domain. A light wind blew; it rustled the trailing vine and the hedges outside the window and sent a scattering of leaves across the corrugated iron roof. Sarah was about to pull the thick brocade bedspread about her when a low growl sounded and then a deep warning bark. Quickly pushing up the window she flicked on the outside light. Bullet stood some five feet from her, his gaze fixed on an unknown form among the darkness of the trees.
‘What is it, boy?’ she called softly, wrapping her arms about her.
Bullet looked briefly over his muscled shoulder. A streak of golden red flashed between tree trunks.
‘What is it?’ she called again.
A fox appeared from between the trees as if in answer to her question. The animal was large and powerfully built, with a solid body, glossy pelt and penetrating eyes. Sarah blinked under the fox’s stare, glad of Bullet who was sitting between them as if on guard. The two animals watched each other for long seconds before the fox finally withdrew, backing into the shadows.
Sarah, discovering that she had been holding her breath, took a gulp of the wintery night air and closed the window. She had the strangest feeling that she was not alone as she drew the heavy curtains closed. She was aware of the creaks and groans within the old homestead, of the spirits that roamed the land that was Wangallon because they loved it so much they could not leave; so what would happen now that one of the chosen custodians was embarking on a project that would change the very face of the property? What would happen now a third Gordon sought his inheritance?
The thought chilled her more than the tiny pinprick goose bumps on her skin and she thought of her great-grandfather. Years ago she’d recognised the cycle of continuity that was Wangallon. In the past it had been fed by the ambitions of her forefathers and their obsessive need to protect the Gordon land, and she’d witnessed this all-encompassing desire for security in her own grandfather’s actions. Succession for the Gordons had never been messy. Why was it now? Suddenly Wangallon was being