said nothing of a long-time employee who’d managed to ingratiate himself with Angus Gordon.
‘So who makes the final decisions when it comes to running Wangallon?’ Jim asked when the room’s silence reached the uncomfortable threshold.
Sarah crossed and uncrossed her legs.
‘Everything is done jointly here,’ Anthony began. ‘We have weekly planning meetings with our stock manager, Matt, who you met earlier.’
An obvious frown shadowed Sarah’s face. She took a sip of white wine.
‘Right,’ Jim said slowly. Sarah was looking a touch uncomfortable. ‘So does that work?’ No one rushed to answer him. ‘I mean, you’re the Gordon, Sarah. Don’t you get the final say?’ By the expression crossing Sarah’s face he had hit on a rather delicate subject.
‘The management team works fine here, Jim. Besides,’ Anthony moved from standing next to an oval mahogany table stacked with photographs and expensive-looking figurines, ‘maybe Sarah hasn’t had a chance to tell you, we’re engaged. I’ll get you another beer, mate.’
For a moment Jim wasn’t sure he had heard correctly. He looked directly at Sarah’s left hand as Anthony left the room.
‘Oh, I don’t wear the ring unless we’re entertaining or I go to town. Jewellery in the bush can be a bit dangerous if it gets caught in anything.’
‘When?’ Jim knew it shouldn’t matter.
‘After I came back from Scotland.’
‘I see.’ While he managed to develop a crush on Sarah during her short stay in Scotland, Sarah had already been in love with Anthony. And hadn’t Anthony made things neat and tidy for himself.
‘So what did you think of the property?’ Anthony returned, refilled Jim’s beer glass and positioned himself on an ancient-looking wooden chair. Another family heirloom, Jim guessed, assessing both the extent and limitation of his inheritance. A thirty per cent share in the land was his, yet he wondered about his rights to the old homestead and its valuable contents.
‘There’s a lot of it and it looks the same to me.’
Sarah’s mouth dropped open in amazement. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in you two sitting here and discussing Wangallon like you’re mates. This isn’t exactly a social visit.’
‘Aye, you’re right there, Sarah.’ Jim drained his beer. ‘I want my inheritance, the full amount in cash.’ If he believed there could be a modicum of friendship between him and his half-sister, he was wrong. There was too much at stake.
Sarah turned white. ‘But we have to keep the property together, Jim.’
‘Why?’
‘Why?’ Sarah repeated the word, looking at him as if he was an idiot.
‘I’m sorry, Sarah, but I’ve no ties to you or Wangallon.’
‘But you could move into West Wangallon Homestead,’ she began. ‘Couldn’t he, Anthony?’ Anthony’s broad back was turned in her direction. He was gazing out the wide casement windows at the gathering darkness. Sarah turned helplessly back to Jim. She’d had no opportunity to discuss any of this with Anthony. He’d returned late again and left at dawn. She bit her lip. Her only option was to make Jim realise the importance of keeping all the country together, to explain to him Wangallon’s significance to the Gordon family, of which he was now a part. She could not bear to see one acre of the property sold. ‘We would teach you everything about the property, pay you a partner’s salary, you would have a car, be involved in management decisions …’
Jim put his beer glass down. ‘You honestly believe I want to stay here?’
Sarah spread her hands, palms up. She was desperate. ‘Why not?’ She gave a weak smile of enticement. She didn’t want Jim Macken here any more than he wanted to stay.
‘No,’ Jim said with finality. ‘Just give me my share.’
Sarah steadied herself by taking a sip of her white wine. ‘We can’t afford to buy you out.’
‘I don’t need to know the details.’
‘You insensitive bastard,’ Sarah said angrily, rising.
‘Hey, Sarah, cool off.’ Anthony tried to lead her back to her seat but she shrugged him off.
‘Fine, fine.’ She ran her fingers through her hair, pacing the room. ‘What about a payment plan? You know, a cash sum every year for say –’
‘What? Ten years, twenty years? I don’t think so, Sarah. What is the point of dragging this on?’
‘But why? Why are you doing this?’ Even as she asked the question Sarah knew the answer. He didn’t know the history of Wangallon. He had no concept of those who’d lived and died in its creation. It was just a commodity to him. He was too ignorant to appreciate what he was intent on destroying. ‘You