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  'Do you think you have ever had stolen animals on your farm?'

  'What? No way! What are you implying?' Gemma looked at Geoff angrily.

  'I'm not implying anything. I'm sorry if I offended you,' Geoff assured her. 'We need to ask these questions to form a clear picture of what has happened.'

  'I'm sure we haven't.'

  'Okay, what do you do when your neighbours' sheep or cattle stray onto your property? Are your fences pretty good?'

  'We put them in the yards, ring the neighbour and ask them to come and pick their stock up. The same way we have done it since time began. Our neighbours do the same if our stock goes through the fence onto their place. Mostly our fences are in pretty good nick, though.'

  Geoff sighed. 'We're going to have to call in the stock squad from Western Australia since South Australia doesn't have one.'

  'Well, I'm happy to help in any way I can.' Gemma was exhausted and it showed.

  Ned spoke up. 'Do you reckon we could do this another time? Gemma looks a bit whacked and she's been through a fair bit in the last twenty-four hours.'

  'Yeah, look, that's as much info as we need at the moment anyway. We have to get back and make some arrangements with the stock squad now, but if you think of anything further you can give us a call, Mrs Sinclair.' Geoff dug out his card and placed it on the table, Ian following suit. 'Thanks for your time; we'll probably be in touch.'

  Ned stayed with Gemma, getting all the details of Jake and his illness, while the policemen prepared to leave, and Ben walked them to their car.

  Ben pushed open the door into the corner pub. He'd been told this was where the best meals were, and he was looking forward to a big steak and a cold beer. After ordering a drink, he sat at the bar near a few other young guys standing around talking. Amongst the general chatter and warmth of the pub Ben was starting to relax when he heard Gemma's name mentioned. Tuning in to the conversation, Ben looked to see who was talking.

  A tall, thick-set, good-looking man was saying: 'After all, it's been known that stock stealing has been going on around here for two or three years, but I guess a lot of us thought it would stop when Sinny died. Gemma must be pretty good at it to keep it going by herself.'

  'On ya, mate,' snorted another one. 'She wouldn't know how. She has enough trouble running Billbinya. She couldn't manage that as well.'

  'But what about if Bulla and Gaz were helping her?' asked another.

  'Nah, no way,' said the tall man. 'One thing I do know about those two, they're as straight as the day is long. Nup, must be Gemma.'

  'Well you'd know – aren't you making it with her best mate? What's her name, that red-headed piece?'

  Ben casually shifted closer to the men to hear their conversation as the man holding court said, 'You guys know me, mate – I just take what's on offer. Jess is fun to hang out with but we're not joined at the hip or anything.' His mobile phone beeped suddenly. Ben watched as he grabbed the phone from his belt and looked at the text message. 'Better take this one, guys,' he said, and threw down a fifty-dollar note. 'Get yourselves another – I'll be back soon.' He disappeared towards the men's room.

  Ben thought it was a shame that the conversation had been interrupted as he would have liked to have heard more of their thoughts.

  He raised his hand to order another beer, then moved down the bar towards the other men. 'G'day, I'm Ben Daylee. I'm the new stock agent with Ned Jones and Bert Hawkins. How's it going?'

  'Good, mate. I'm Scott Forrester – call me Frost, and these guys are Shadow, Pusher, Jonesy and Floro.'

  'Good to meet you all,' said Ben, shaking hands all round. 'Can I get anyone a drink?'

  'Nah, we're right at the moment, mate,' Frost said. 'Hey, if you're working with Ned then you should know all about what happened today with the stolen stock. I hear there were about two thousand ewes stolen from five different farms.'

  Ben smiled and shook his head. It was amazing how information could get so distorted. 'I don't think it was that many, but yeah, there have been some go missing. You fellas farmers?'

  'Nah, but we've got mates on the footy team that are and they're all talking about it. It's got round town real quick,' said Jonesy.

  The tall man was making his way towards them, putting his phone back on his belt. 'G'day.' He nodded at Ben.

  'Bradley, mate, this is Ben Daylee – I think we should call him Hills.' Pusher paused. 'You know, like Dales, Hills . . .' His voice trailed off as all the men looked at him blankly. 'Anyway, he's working for Ned and Bert, the stock agents down the road.'

  The two men shook hands.

  'Is that right?' said Brad. 'I'm the local agronomist, so I guess we'll be running into each other a bit on farms.'

  'I guess so.' Ben took a swig of his beer. 'Well, I'm off to get a feed, anyone want to join me?'

  The other men made their excuses, but Brad stayed. 'Yeah, I'll have a bite with you; I might be able to fill you in on the good farmers and the not so good, if you're interested.'

  'Sounds great.'

  They talked generally while they waited for their steaks, chips and salads to arrive, then suddenly Brad said, 'So you would've met Gemma Sinclair in your travels with Ned?'

  Ben was cautious, while he formulated his response. 'Yeah, I've met her a couple of times.'

  'I knock about with one of her mates a bit. Jess Rawlings. I haven't met Gemma yet, but she seems to be a bit of a legend around here.'

  'Why's that?'

  'Oh, well, you know with her husband dying in the plane crash like that and her taking on running the farm. She's obviously got some get-up-and-go about her.'

  'Mmm,' responded Ben noncommittally. 'Had heard something.'

  'Rumour has it that the Sinclairs are involved, but no one can prove it. Don't really know how much truth there is to it, but where there's smoke there's fire, hey?'

  Ben sat back, pushing his empty plate away, and nodded for Brad to continue.

  'Well, look.' Brad leaned across the table. 'I'm not one to speak ill of the dead, but it seemed that every time the Sinclairs had people over for dinner, stock would disappear from their guests' farm. It could be just coincidence but I think there might have been something in it. Sinny was a bit of a rogue.'

  'Did you know him well?'

  'I used to catch him in the pub occasionally and we had some common interests but that was about it.'

  'All pretty interesting anyway,' said Ben. 'Well, I guess I'd better get going – another big day tomorrow. Good to meet you, I guess I'll catch you round.'

  'Yeah, no worries, mate. Good to meet you too. Oh, by the way, don't suppose you play footy? We're looking for a full forward.'

  'Well, I have kicked the footy a bit, but I'm a bit rusty. I haven't played this season.'

  'If you want to have a kick, we're playing a home game on Saturday. Come down, put the boots on and I'll introduce you to the rest of the blokes. Training's on Tuesday and Thursday.'

  'Okay,' said Ben. 'I'd be into that.'

  Ben sauntered home reflecting on all that had happened throughout the day. The stock-stealing business was on everyone's lips and had fuelled the local gossip. He wondered about the guys he had met at the pub – most of them seemed like decent blokes. Brad, though, made him uneasy. There was something malicious about how he spoke of Adam and laid the blame with no real evidence. He made a mental note to watch what he said in front of Brad in the future.

  Chapter 9

  Gemma looked at Bulla and Garry aghast. 'What do you mean you think the stolen sheep were here and now they're not?' They stood at the entrance to the shed, where they met every morning to talk about the day's work before heading off in different directions. But it wasn't often Gemma was dealt such bizarre news.

  Bulla scratched his head. 'Well, I spotted a mob of about a thousand wether lambs yesterday just before lunch out in Reimer's paddock. We had things that were urgent to do yesterday out in other paddocks and when I went back this morning, the sheep were nowh
ere in sight.'

  Gemma started to shake. She took a couple of deep breaths and tried to pull herself together. 'Right, I'll need to ring the police and let them know. We didn't have anything to do with it, so we have nothing to fear, right?'

  'Yeah, right you are,' said Bulla doubtfully.

  Neither of the policemen were available, so Gemma left a message and hung up. She was just about to head back outside when the phone rang.

  'Hello?'

  'Hello, lovely, what's happening?' asked Jess's happy voice.

  'Jess, you wouldn't believe what's going on here. You always ring at the right time.' Gemma's voice cracked.

  'What's wrong? It's not your dad, is it?'

  'Not this time.' Gemma proceeded to fill her in on all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

  Jess was silent for a while and then said, 'Right, this weekend you're coming to town. That festival Taste of the Outback is on and there's a jazz concert over at one of the wineries. We'll have a meal out under the stars, drink some wine and listen to some music. And on Saturday we can watch Brad play footy. It'll do you good to watch some guys running around in footy shorts.'

  'I don't know, Jess . . .' Gemma's voice petered out. 'I can't leave unless Bulla and Garry are around to look after everything. You know that.' As an afterthought she added, 'Maybe Jack can.'

  'That's sorted then. See you Friday . . . No arguments. See you at my house at five thirty. Don't be late!'

  Gemma put the phone down and it rang again immediately, startling her.

  'Gemma Sinclair?' she answered, expecting it to be the police returning her call.

  'G'day, sis, you're sounding very professional there. What's up?' It was her brother's familiar voice.

  'Patrick, oh it's so great to hear from you. Are you in Adelaide yet?'

  'Not yet, but I'll be there late tonight. I've talked to Mum and everything seems okay. The hospital is just running more tests and Dad is comfy so all's good.'

  'How're you getting up here?'

  'I was thinking I'd hire a car, but now I reckon I'll catch the bus up to Pirie. I'll use a farm ute when I get there anyway. Can you meet me?'

  'Yeah, no worries. Actually that'll fit in well. Jess has just talked me into going to a concert over at a winery, so I'll be in town already. When?'

  'Probably Sund'y. I want to spend a bit of time with the folks, ya know?'

  Gemma smiled as she hung up the phone. Despite the worry that shadowed her, the thought of having Patrick and his happy-go-lucky nature around was cheering.

  Jack's mobile phone rang just as he was emptying the last of the rum into his glass. 'Bugger,' he swore as he spilt the amber liquid onto his jeans.

  ''Lo?'

  'How's it going, Jack?'

  'Great. I was gonna ring ya tonight. The widow's away for the weekend. I'm looking after everything on Billbinya and the other two are doing 'er old man's place so they'll be out of the way. Good time to get into the house, I reckon.'

  'Good. Talk to you after you've done it. You know what you're looking for, don't ya?'

  'I ain't stupid.' He skolled the rest of his drink and pulled another bottle from the cupboard.

  Jack's bender lasted for the weekend. He had visited Gemma's house on Friday after the girls had left but hadn't gone in. Scoota had growled and then barked furiously as Jack had turned the handle. With a quarter of a bottle of rum already inside him, his urge to see the young jillaroo who could match him drink for drink grew. Jack and responsibility didn't go together and without thinking, he left the homestead and Billbinya and made the hour drive north to see her. He didn't return until Monday morning.

  Chapter 10

  Gemma and Jess were having a lovely night. The winery, set on the bank of a creek, was beautiful. Camp fires had been lit along the creek's edge, and next to the fires were old wine barrels that had been cut in half and filled with poinsettias and other flowering plants. Further out into the creek, spotlights had been placed beneath two old gum trees, and their ghostly limbs gave the scene an enchanted air.

  The stage where the jazz band was setting up was covered in fairy lights.

  'Wow,' Gemma breathed when she saw it.

  'C'mon,' called Jess. 'Let's get set up.'

  There were heaps of people milling around, setting up their picnic blankets or chairs; some carrying hampers, others going back and forth from the food and beer tents. The atmosphere buzzed with the anticipation of a special evening.

  They had just set up their deckchairs next to a huge boulder and were taking the first sip of wine when they heard a voice behind them.

  'Gem, Jess, hi!'

  They turned to see Paige Nicholls clutching the arm of a tall blond man.

  Gemma smiled warmly. 'Hello, Paige, enjoying a night off?'

  'Yep, Daniel and I are looking forward to the concert. We used to see a lot of jazz bands when we lived in Melbourne, so this is a real treat. This is Daniel McDavis, by the way.' She snuggled in closer to the man, who nodded without smiling. 'How are you, Jess?' asked Paige.

  'Fine thanks,' Jess said coldly.

  Paige's smile faltered. 'Well, good to see you both. I guess we'll go find a spot.' She gave a small wave, and they were gone.

  'I don't know how she has the guts to show her face around here,' said Jess furiously. 'After Claire's accident and Tim's suicide. I still can't believe she had an affair with Tim, right beneath our noses while pretending to be Claire's friend. I cannot stand that woman.'

  'Jess, it was a long time ago,' Gemma said gently, 'and I'm sure if Paige had known what the outcome would be, she wouldn't have started the affair. And don't forget, she said she loved Tim too. I miss Claire and I hate what happened – but imagine what Paige must have suffered.'

  Jess smiled. 'You always were a lot more forgiving than me.'

  'I wasn't at the time, remember? I called her a harlot and all sorts of names. But I guess when you lose someone you love, it puts things in a different perspective.'

  'Do you know what she's doing now?'

  'Didn't I tell you? Sorry. She's a nurse. She was on duty at the hospital when I went in to see Dad.'

  'Well, I don't know if leopards really can change their spots,' Jess said, standing. 'I'm off to find a loo. Can you get more drinks?'

  Struck by a thought she turned back to Gemma and asked, 'Hey, did the cops call you back?'

  Gemma shook her head. 'I don't know what's going on there. Not a sound from them. Maybe they've found the sheep and everything is okay. Who knows?'

  Gemma weaved through the crowd to the bar, not stopping to talk to anyone, but nodding and smiling at people she knew. On the way back to their seats, she stopped off at the food tent and loaded up plates full of pork from the spit with vegies.

  'Need a hand to carry that?'

  Gemma turned to see Ned and his wife Rose. 'What are you doing here, Ned? Looking for some culture?' Gemma leaned forward to kiss Rose on the cheek. 'How are you, Rose?'

  'Culture yourself. You're the one who never goes anywhere. Who dragged you along?' Ned asked gruffly.

  Rose smacked his arm gently. 'Ned, mind your manners. How are you, Gemma? It's lovely to see you out and about.'

  'It's looking like a great night. I'm here with Jess Rawlings, my friend from school. She thought I should get out more, so she dragged me along. Not really like the B & S's we used to go to, but I guess you have to grow out of them sometime!'

  Bidding them farewell, Gemma hurried back to Jess. She handed Jess her plate, then moaned with delight through a mouthful of pork. 'I haven't eaten like this in so long.'

  'That's 'cos you don't eat,' Jess retorted as the spotlights flashed on and off to signal the start of the show.

  The chatter of the audience died away as the jazz band started to play. Gemma felt all the worries of the last few months begin to disappear as the musicians' fingers flew over keyboards and guitar strings.

  At the interval, Gemma volunteered to refresh their dri
nks. While she waited for the queue at the bar to lessen, she stood looking into the embers of a dying fire, lost in the memory of the music. She didn't realise Ben was behind her until he spoke.

  'Didn't recognise you without your work clobber on,' he said quietly. She spun around, and found herself staring straight at his chest. Looking up, she found his brown eyes regarding her curiously.

  'G'day,' she managed. 'What are you doing here? Do you like jazz?'