Chapter One of Inheritance by Kate Loveday

Wings

Inheritance

Kate Loveday

A Wings ePress, Inc.

Romantic Mystery Novel

Wings ePress, Inc.

Edited by: Lorraine Stephens

Copy Edited by: Sara V. Olds

Senior Editor: Lorraine Stephens

Executive Editor: Lorraine Stephens

Cover Artist: Richard Stroud

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Wings ePress Books

http://www.wings-press.com

ISBN 978-1-59705-144-6

Published In the United States Of America

August 2007

Wings ePress Inc.

403 Wallace Court

Richmond, KY 40475

Dedication

For Gloria, Peter and Michael.

Prologue

The old boab tree reached up, extending its twisted limbs to the sky. The tree was a rarity in this area. A bird had dropped its seed here on Yallandoo a thousand years before. Venerated by the tribe who had lived here even longer, coming and going as the seasons dictated, it had watched over their lives. Their councils had been held beneath its branches. They came to sit beneath it in times of trouble, long before the white man set foot in Australia. Now, two men met under its shade.

One leaned back against the swollen tree trunk. His skin was as black as the wings of a crow, his hair thick and white above a face seamed with age. His eyes glittered with knowledge handed down for thousands of years. The other man, much younger, had lighter skin, with dark eyes, a straight nose and even features. He squatted now, his lithe frame balanced easily as he listened.

“It’s bad, Daniel,” the old man said, “bad for all of us that Len Taylor’s been killed. The Taylors’ve always been good friends to us, from way back. Good friends. Now, who knows what’s gonna happen on Yallandoo? Cassie’s a good kid, she understands us, but…” he shrugged,”…she doesn’t know much about running a cattle station. She might sell…prob’ly take a husband. There’s trouble ahead. I see it.”

“You think Len’s left Yallandoo to Cassie?” Daniel asked.

“I think so; they’ve always been close, she has the feel for the place.”

Daniel waited patiently while his great-grandfather stared into the distance.

“Soon be time for me to go to my ancestors.” Sam turned his eyes back to Daniel. “Then it’s gonna be up to you. You’re the one gonna have to protect our heritage. Don’t matter ‘bout the other blood in you, it’s your Yulutana blood that’s strongest.”

Daniel nodded. “Yes, I know.”

“A lotta people are greedy, they don’t care ‘bout us, ‘bout the spirits. They just think about the money. If they knew what we’ve got here, they’d come after it.”

“I’ll make sure it’s kept safe.”

The old man nodded. “I’ll be goin’ to Kuku-yulutandji soon. I’ll talk with the Ancestor Spirits then. Find out what to do.”

Daniel stood up, nodding. “I’ve got to get back to work. We’re moving the cattle today.” He turned and moved away.

Sam stayed where he was, staring reflectively into the future.

One

Cassie Taylor sat in the front pew of the chapel, her heart heavy with grief. Outside the tropical sun blazed down on Cairns, its fiery kiss sending the holiday makers scurrying to cool off in the pools, but Cassie shivered. Her mind returned to the call from her uncle’s manager, Tom, two days ago.

“Cassie, I don’t know how to tell you…but…” his slow country voice had faltered, “I… I’ve got bad news, I’m afraid. There’s been an accident. It’s your Uncle Len and Aunt Isobel.”

“Oh my God!” Panic gripped Cassie. “What sort of accident? Are they badly hurt?”

“It was on the way back from Cairns, Cassie. They’d gone in to do some Christmas shopping and there was a storm. You know how dry it’s been. Well, the roads were pretty slippery. A car coming the other way lost control, slid right into their path. It was all over in seconds, there was nothing anyone could do. I’m sorry, Cassie.” His voice shook. “There were… no survivors.”

Cassie couldn’t remember the rest of the conversation. It was all hazy. She had been in a daze ever since. All the way up here for the funeral, on the plane, thinking only of Uncle Len and Aunt Izzy. How they loved her like the child they never had. And she loved them in return. Her father’s older brother, Uncle Len had taken on the role of substitute father to her after her own father, Rob, died twelve years ago, when she was just eleven.

At a touch on her arm, she turned. Her friend Rosie, sitting next to her, nodded towards the coffins. Cassie stood up and walked over to stand beside them, relinquishing the two white roses she had been clutching, placing one on each coffin, and returned to her seat.

The music swelled as they watched the coffins disappear, down to the fiery furnace in the bowels of the building. Cassie’s grief broke its tightly restraining bonds then and the tears came, convulsively, racking her body, cascading down her cheeks. Rosie’s arm went around her. Slowly the pain inside eased to a sad, heavy ache and the tears stopped.

Cassie raised her head and looked around. The chapel was empty; everyone else had left. She drew a long, tremulous breath.

A handkerchief was thrust into her hand. “Here you are. Take this. Wipe your eyes and blow your nose.”

Cassie sniffed and blew her nose loudly. “Sorry, Rosie,” she mumbled, sniffing again.

“Don’t be silly. You’re allowed, today. Think you can face the crowd yet?”

“I… I think so.” Putting up both hands to smooth her short, fair hair, and then running them over her face, she tried to smile. The smile wobbled, then faded. “Just give me a minute, I’ll be okay.” She stood breathing deeply for a few moments, and then her hand went out and touched Rosie’s. “I’m okay now.”

“You sure?”

She nodded. “Yes. Do I look all right? Don’t want to let them down, you know.” She smoothed the black dress over her slight figure.

“You look fine. Come on. Let’s get it over with.”

Rosie took her arm and they moved out into the room next to the chapel. The woman who presided over the tea and biscuits brought them a cup of tea each and they stood sipping.

People came up to offer their condolences. Cassie responded, trying to smile, to thank them, trying not to think of how she missed her aunt and uncle.

Yallandoo Station, their home in Far North Queensland, an hour north-west of Cairns, was like a second home to her. It had been the scene of so many happy holidays. All her school breaks and, since then, as much time as possible. Happy days. Spent with Rosie, daughter of the station manager, Tom Hanson, and his wife Lorna. Yallandoo… what would happen to Yallandoo now? Who would run it? Would it be Aunt Izzie’s brothers? Would it be sold?

A voice at her side made her turn, to see a man she vaguely remembered from visits to an office in Cairns with Uncle Len. A bright little sparrow of a man, with greying hair and dark eyes. He offered her his hand.

“Ah, Cassie,” he said. “We have met, but you probably don’t remember; it was a long time ago. When you were only a little girl. I’m Graham Walsh, Len Taylor’s solicitor. This is a terrible tragedy. Terrible. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” As Cassie took his hand she saw the sympathy in his eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Walsh. It’s been a terrible shock. To all of us.”

“Yes, I’ve already spoken to Tom and Lorna and I know how devastated they are.” He turned to Rosie. “And I know you must be too, Rosie. I know you’ve lived on Yallandoo most of your life with your parents.” His voice was warm and kind.

“Yes. We were all very fond of them. They were wonderful to us.” Rosie’s voice trembled and she brushed at the tears that filled her eyes.

Graham Walsh smiled gently at them. “I remember you and Cassie both coming with Len to my office when you were only about seven or eight years old. You both sat on your chairs, drinking cordial, so good, while Len and I talked. Pretty little girls you both were, too, I remember. You with your blue eyes and brown curls, Rosie, always ready to laugh, always happy. And you, I thought you looked like a cute little pixie, Cassie, with your tiny face and big eyes. Len told me you’d be a beauty when you grew up and he was right. You’re the image of your grandmother, Rachel, did you know?”

Cassie had the feeling he was reminiscing to make them both feel better. She managed a weak smile as she replied. “Not really. I only remember her as an old lady.”

“Ah, I remember her when she was younger.” His eyes took on a faraway look. “Only small, like you, but full of spirit! You have the same green eyes and heart shaped face. And she had golden hair, like you, but hers was long.” He sighed. “Oh dear, it’s all so sad. Len thought the world of you, Cassie.” He shook his head, as if to clear it, and then continued, business-like now. “Now, Cassie, I need to speak to you. Privately. I’m sorry to intrude at a time like this but I wonder if you’d come to my office before you return to Sydney.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Walsh. I’m booked on a flight back later this afternoon. I won’t have time. Is it important?”

“Well, yes, it is. Very important, actually… hm… let me see.” He looked at his watch. “There’s a small private room here. I’ll arrange to use that. I’ll come and get you in a minute. Is that all right?”

“Yes, of course.” Watching him go, Cassie frowned and turned to Rosie. “I wonder what he wants with me. Perhaps there’s some formality with the police. I suppose… in an accident like that…” Her voice trailed away.

“Must be something like that I guess. Sounds important, if he needs to see you alone.”

“Yes, it does.” Cassie was puzzled.

They waited together until the solicitor came back. He led Cassie to a small room and offered her a seat.

“Can I get you anything? Cup of tea, glass of water?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Walsh. What is it you need to see me about?”

“It’s about your Uncle Len’s will, Cassie. Do you have any idea how he left his estate?”

Startled, she shook her head. “No. I haven’t thought about it. To my aunt’s brothers I suppose, seeing my father was his only other immediate family and he’s dead, and of course, Uncle Len and Aunt Izzy had no children.”

“Well, no. Her brothers don’t feature in the will at all. There are a few bequests, but the bulk of his estate, including Yallandoo Station, goes to you, Cassie.”

Cassie’s eyes flew wide with shock. She drew in her breath sharply and her heart started to beat erratically. She could hardly believe what she heard.

“To… to me?” Cassie’s throat closed up, making it difficult to get the words out.

Graham Walsh nodded. “Yes, Cassie, to you.”

“But… but… why me? What am I going to do with it? He surely couldn’t mean for me to try and run it?” She leant forward, shaking her head. “I couldn’t possibly. I… I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“I know you’re very young for such a responsibility. How old are you? Twenty-one?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Ah. Perhaps you have marriage plans, then?” he asked hopefully. “Someone who could help you with running it?”

“No.”

He relaxed his professional manner for a moment. “A pretty girl like you, Cassie, I’m surprised! No one likely?”

Cassie frowned as she shook her head. “No.” Normally she would respond fiercely to such chauvinism, but today she let it pass.

The solicitor reverted to formality. “What you must remember is that under normal circumstances this wouldn’t have happened for many years yet.” He paused and then spoke gently. “It’s a measure of his love for you. You do understand that, don’t you, Cassie?”

Her chest tightened. Swallowing the lump in her throat she closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them she took a deep breath. “Yes,” she sighed.

“And,” he spoke more firmly now, “his belief that being a Taylor you’re capable of shouldering big loads.”

Cassie straightened her shoulders, and lifted her chin almost imperceptibly. The Taylor’s were from strong pioneering stock.

“Of course, if you feel it’s too much for you, you can always sell. But you don’t have to make a decision yet. Probate is slow; it could take anything up to twelve months. Until then nothing will change. Len appointed me as executor of his estate and I’ll take care of everything for you.”

“But what will happen to Yallandoo in the meantime?”

“I’ve already spoken to Tom Hanson, he’ll stay on and everything will run the same as usual. Len regarded him as an excellent manager, capable and trustworthy. I don’t believe you need have any worries on that score.”

“Yes, I know what Uncle Len thought of Tom and Lorna. They’ve been on Yallandoo for as long as I can remember, I know they’re reliable.” Cassie stood up and moved restlessly to the window, looking at the bright day outside, frowning as she tried to think ahead. She couldn’t imagine anyone else owning Yallandoo. She loved everything about it. The old homestead, surrounded by trees and lawns, with the home paddock beyond. Its sprawling acres, with the cattle that were Uncle Len’s passion. But best of all, the beautiful rainforest, still pristine, where she and Rosie roamed, and the rock pool where they went to swim.

How could she bear never to see it again? Her chest tightened at the thought. But how could she ever manage it? She knew little about the actual running of the place.

Turning back into the room, she spoke slowly. “It’s all such a shock. Coming right on top of losing them. I… I just don’t know what to think… what to do.”

“Don’t worry about it now. Give yourself time to get used to it. I’m here to help you. I’ll take care of everything that needs to be done now. I’ll write to you and send you a copy of the will, and explain everything else you need to know. Are you still living in Sydney with your mother, at the house in Edgecliff?”

“Yes.”

“I have all the details, then. You’ll hear from me soon. Now, don’t worry. It’ll be all right. I’ll have a word with Tom on my way out and let him know what’s happening. I’ll be in touch soon. Now don’t worry, Cassie,” he repeated.

Graham Walsh held the door open for her and they returned to the main room. The solicitor went to talk to Tom and Lorna. Cassie started to go with him, but saw Rosie waiting for her and walked over to her instead.

Rosie had an expectant look on her face. “Well, what did he want?”

“Rosie, you’re never going to believe this. I can hardly believe it myself. Uncle Len left Yallandoo to me!”

“To you?” Rosie’s voice rose with excitement. She threw her arms around Cassie in a wild hug. “How wonderful! How abso-bloody-lutely fantastic!”

Cassie found the excitement catching and she laughed as she returned the hug. “It’s just incredible! It never entered my head to imagine such a thing!”

As they drew apart Rosie’s eyes sparkled. “Does this mean you’ll be coming up here to live permanently now?”

Cassie sobered. “I don’t really know. It was such a shock I haven’t thought about what will happen. I’ll have to give it a lot of thought. And talk to Mum, too, of course.”

“Oh, yes, your mother!” Rosie grimaced. “Gwen won’t want you to live up here. She’d hate it if you left Sydney.”

“Hmm. Yes. I suppose she might.”

“I’m sure of it. After all, you do help her run her catering business. And she does tend to be… well… a bit possessive about you, doesn’t she?”

Cassie knew her mother was demanding, but had to defend her. “It’s because there’s only the two of us.”

“Yes, I know. I suppose that’s an excuse, sort of.”

As she looked around, Cassie saw Graham Walsh had left, along with most of the others. She caught hold of Rosie’s arm. “Oh, look! Your parents are all on their own. Come on. Let’s go and talk to them. They’re waiting for us. They’ll have heard the news by now.”

They crossed the room. The waiting pair looked so stiff and uncomfortable. That could be from the formal clothes they weren’t used to wearing

Tom, a lean, wiry man, with pushed back hair bleached almost white by the sun, would plainly be more at home in stockman’s garb than a suit. In spite of the air conditioning he looked hot and bothered. Lorna, a little roly-poly of a woman, with her brown hair pulled back into a tight bun, wore a black dress just a little too tight for her. She watched impassively as the two girls approached.

Rosie raced ahead, all excited. “Isn’t it great news? Len left Yallandoo to Cassie!”

“Yes. We’ve just heard,” Tom replied in a heavy voice.

He doesn’t sound as if he thinks it’s great news, Cassie thought, as she reached them.

“Well, aren’t you happy she owns it now?” Rosie persisted.

Tom responded stiffly. “Of course we are.”

Cassie couldn’t understand his aloofness. Smiling, she tried to put them at their ease. “I’m so happy you’re going to stay on Yallandoo, both of you. I just couldn’t manage without you. In spite of all the time I’ve spent there, I know very little about the actual working of the station. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t staying!”

They both visibly relaxed at her words.

“Of course we’ll stay, love.” Lorna smiled back at her.

“Just as long as you want us to, Cassie,” Tom added. “Graham Walsh told us that everything will be put on hold till after probate. But what then, Cassie? What will you do with Yallandoo?” he asked bluntly.

“I honestly don’t know, Tom. It was so unexpected I’m still trying to come to terms with everything. As soon as I work it out, you’ll be the first to know, I promise you.”

But what was she going to do?

~ * ~

Cassie had mixed emotions as she sat in the plane on her way back to Sydney. Sadness at the loss of her uncle and aunt was foremost. However, skittering alongside the pain, and she felt guilty to admit it to herself, excitement jerkily pushed its way up! Yallandoo--hers! But the thought of the conversation with Graham Walsh set her mind whirling like autumn leaves in a storm. She had no idea of what she should do. Her knowledge of running a cattle station was pretty close to zilch!

Should she sell Yallandoo? Cassie thought of her uncle, and how much it had meant to him. She remembered the family stories of previous generations who had lived there, going right back to her great-great-grandfather Charles. Fresh out from England with his brother Robert, they had settled Yallandoo a hundred and thirty years ago, facing hardships and loneliness.

Two years later, Robert succumbed to illness and died. He was buried on the property, a simple headstone marking the spot. Charles had continued alone until he finally chose a bride, Charlotte, to share his lonely life with him. Their eldest son, John, had inherited the property, and so it had been through the succeeding generations, down to her father and uncle. And now, herself!

Sighing, she leant forward and took the in-flight magazine from the seat-pocket in front of her. Idly she turned the pages, her mind still on Yallandoo. Suddenly her attention was caught by an article titled ‘Tropical Far North Queensland.’ Perusing it with interest, she read that tourism in the area was growing at an unprecedented rate, and then she sat back, thoughtfully, the magazine on her lap.

Far North Queensland, reaching as far north as you could go in Australia. A land of towering mountains and lush, fertile plains. Dense green rainforests. Rivers and waterfalls. Golden beaches and coral reefs. And cattle stations. Some so big you could drive for days before you reached the boundary. Not that Yallandoo was that big!

Tourism--now that was an area she would like to be involved in! But what could you do with a cattle station?