Rimmer's Way Page 2

He was still not satisfied. 'No romantic attachments?' he asked bluntly.

  Della flushed; really, he was rather overstepping the limit of what she was prepared to discuss. 'No,' she said curtly. 'And I don't see why you should ...'

  Once more he cut into her answer, this time with a grim, 'There will be when it's known you're part owner of Rimmer's Way.'

  The blunt statement shocked Della, and was mirrored in her wide brown eyes as she looked at him.

  'So you see,' he went on harshly, 'as I said before, I have no choice but to carry out your uncle's wish, that we should marry.'

  Della was beyond words; one fact stood out pretty starkly—Cal Tarn was bitter, he had not been prepared for such an eventuality—but how could he be? she thought wildly, as she tried hard to regulate her thinking. If it had come as a shock to him—how about her? He had not even been apologetic about it; and although she felt sorry for him, she felt even sorrier for herself. He had made her feel repulsive; she wasn't a beauty, she knew—but she wasn't Dracula's bride either!

  'I don't think you should feel obliged to carry out that wish, Mr Tarn,' she said softly. 'I could have been married, or engaged, couldn't I? So the question doesn't arise.'

  'But you are not married or engaged,' he said haughtily. 'And I gave my word not six hours ago. I keep my word, Miss Castle.'

  Her confused mind tried to work out the implications of this statement. Six hours, he had said; her uncle must have died at about that time, a deathbed promise, he had meant.

  'People who are ill,' she said firmly, making a desperate bid to rise out of her confused state, 'often ramble.' Seeing the haughty eyebrow rise even higher, she carried on quickly. 'Please don't misunderstand me, Mr Tarn. I'm not suggesting my uncle lost his senses; what I am saying is that he had me on his mind. Perhaps he'd hoped we might marry, but through his illness he forgot to take into account the fact that we might not suit.' She faltered a moment or so trying to find the right words, then began again slowly. 'He was always a most understanding man. It would be out of character for him to force either you or me into such an action.'

  'Your uncle,' Cal replied quietly, 'was the sanest ,man I ever knew. No, Miss Castle, there's no loophole there.' He studied the glass in his hand and gently swirled the liquid round. 'I guess he had it all worked out for years,' he gave a wry grimace. 'He made that will out six months ago.'

  Della saw the hand resting on the back of his, chair clench into a fist; instinctively she knew it had come as a shock to him. Had he expected to inherit everything?'

  'I helped to build that ranch up from nothing,' he said harshly, proving Della's theory. 'Towards the latter part of his life Denny had to take a back seat.' He stood up abruptly and turned to place his glass

  back on the tray. 'If I'd known what was in his mind I could have taken steps to provide an alternative for both of us—as it is ...' he shrugged expressively.

  For the first time panic assailed Della. He really meant what he was saying! He was prepared to marry a complete stranger, someone he didn't know, and what was worse, he didn't want to marry her. It all added up to sheer misery for the pair of them. Then common sense came to her rescue. .Things like that just didn't happen, and she wasn't going to be pushed into such a position, will or no will I

  'Tell me, Mr Tarn, are your affections engaged?' she asked bluntly, knowing it sounded old-fashioned, but not seeing any other way of framing the question.

  He turned to face her abruptly. 'We are not discussing me, Miss Castle,' he said curtly.

  She felt the sharp rebuke. What he meant was that it was no business of hers. It also meant that there was someone—there had to be to produce that reaction. Feeling on firmer ground, she said, I'm sure you can find some alternative, Mr Tarn. Marriage is out of the question, I'm afraid.'

  Once she had said it she felt relief flow over her. He must feel it too, she thought; he couldn't very well drag her to the altar, could he?

  He did not look relieved, in fact the reverse. 'Rimmer's Way is your home now, Miss Castle,' he pointed out a trifle grimly. 'It also happens to be my home. I know you're new to the country, but we're pretty old-fashioned around here.' He left the rest of the sentence unsaid, but Della got the message.

  `Well,' she said, frowning as she assimilated this information. 'I won't live there, if that's the position. Couldn't I have some place of my own? Somewhere,' she brightened as the idea took hold, 'say on the other side of the property—not a big place, something quite small would do.'

  'Out of the question,' he rapped out. 'I've more to do than keep an eye on you and ward off hopeful suitors.'

  Della's eyes widened—he wasn't proving very helpful, was he? Here she was giving him a way out, and he was stubbornly refusing to take it. Serve him right if she did marry him !

  Her lips tightened as she replied sarcastically, `So we marry! Two complete strangers with as much in common as an Eskimo and a South Sea native!' She put her glass down with a sharp crack and stood up to face him, noticing absently how he seemed to tower over her. 'Tied for life,' she continued, determined to labour the point home to him. 'Have you really considered all the facts, Mr Tarn? For goodness' sake! I'm trying to be reasonable, but you're making it pretty hard for me.'

  Cal waited until she had finished, his cold eyes steadily regarding her as if she were an interesting specimen presented for his inspection. When he did speak it was in a matter-of-fact drawl. 'You're forgetting Rimmer's Way, Miss Castle. We've that in

  common. As for being tied for life—well, that's not necessarily true. I can assure you I've considered all the facts, and I suggest a trial marriage,' he held up an imperative hand at her sudden start. 'Hear me out,' he said. 'The homestead is big enough to afford each of us complete privacy; a new wing was added a year ago. I suggest you take up quarters there, giving us both time to get to know each other, and we take it from there.'

  He shrugged. 'Give it say, a year, then if the idea appeals, we make a real marriage out of it. If not, no harm's done. It will at least give me time to work out some sort of recompense for you for your half of the property, which at the moment is just not possible. All available cash is tied up in stock, and I shall need time to organise things. This way, if you're agreeable, I can carry out my obligation to your uncle, and see to your welfare.' He shot her a quick look. 'Well, what do you say?'

  Making a mental effort to come to terms with this strange proposal, Della had a feeling she was not going to be given much time to work out the possible implications of such an arrangement. Cal had so worded the proposal that she was made to feel almost obliged to accept. He was telling her he could not afford to buy her out at that precise time, but was determined she would not be cheated out of her inheritance. As for the token gesture he had made over the marriage—well, it went without saying she would be free within a year.

  Considering everything had come as such a shock to him, he was behaving in a very civilised manner, Della thought, and she ought to appreciate that at least. She frowned; she still felt she needed time to think.

  She looked back at the man waiting for her answer, and saw again the proud hold of his head. He was not a man to take kindly to being forced into this sort of predicament; especially if there was someone else. Would she be willing to wait a year? Something told her that whoever it was, she would do just that. Cal Tarn was no ordinary man—even so ... `Do you mind if I think it over?' she said quietly.

  Cal continued to watch her with that inscrutable look of his. 'I know I'm rushing you,' he said quietly, `but I'm afraid I want your answer now; there are things I have to see to.'

  Once again Della had the feeling of being cornered, of being railroaded into something before she could back out, and it made her want to shout that she didn't feel she had a right to a half-share in the ranch. He had more or less hinted that he felt exactly the same way about it, but something told her he would not back out or allow her to either. He was too proud. She heard herself say, 'Very well.'


  In a half daze she saw him nod briefly and give what appeared to her to be a look of relief, but she didn't know him well enough to be sure. Picking up his hat, he walked to the door. 'Can you be ready for the ceremony on Thursday?' he asked abruptly. Della blinked; he certainly was moving fast! 'I ...' she began.

  'If it's clothes or anything in that line you're worried about—go ahead and fix yourself up with what you need. Charge it up to me,' he said grandly. 'I'll give you the final arrangements when I see you on Wednesday.'

  Della stood in the middle of the room after he had left her, feeling as if she had come up against a force ten gale. She was breathless and very frightened. 'What have I done?' she whispered to the empty room.

  CHAPTER TWO

  WHEN she awoke the following morning, Della lay for a few seconds lazily blinking at the bright pattern of sunbeams on the bedroom floor, then through her growing consciousness came the stark fact that Uncle Denny had died, and this was closely followed by the traumatic events that had been triggered off by his death.

  She cleared her fogged senses. It had all been a dream, surely? Men like Cal Tarn did not propose to a complete stranger. She sat up swiftly; but he had proposed—and had been accepted!

  Thrusting back a stray tendril of hair from her face, she tried to make some sense of this extraordinary fact. She frowned. A year, he had said. She drew her legs up and sat with her arms clasped round them, resting her chin on her knees.

  Although she did not know a great deal about Cal Tarn, one thing she did know was that he was a man of his word. As he had said, she would occupy the added wing of the homestead—in other words, he was telling her he would not thrust his attentions on her.

  Della blushed at this thought, and a small smile touched her mouth. She could not honestly see him pushing his attentions on any woman, and found herself wondering about the other woman, the one who would have to stand aside for one year, and felt sorry for her.

  It could not be much fun loving a man like that. Her teeth caught her bottom lip as another thought struck her; why hadn't he asked her to wait until he'd raised the money to buy her out? Her brow creased. She wouldn't have minded—after all, she had not expected to inherit anything.

  She could get a job; she would have no difficulty there, she had a good secretarial training behind her. Throwing back the bedclothes, she got out of bed. How stupid of her not to have thought of this before! Cal Tarn was probably of the opinion that she had been entirely dependent on her uncle. She recalled the way he had waited watchfully for her reply when he had asked her what she was going to do. Slowly she shook her head; her wits appeared to have deserted her when she most needed them.

  Thank goodness it wasn't too late to contact him and put him out of his misery. Della almost grinned at the thought of one very relieved Mr Tarn, then gave another frown as she recalled him telling her he was going to a cattle auction—but where?

  Slipping on her wrap, she paused. It ought not to be very difficult finding out where the auction was being held. All she need do then was leave a message there for him to ring her. There ought to be plenty of time for her to stop whatever arrangements

  he had in mind, being carried out. As for the wedding—surely you couldn't get married just like that? you couldn't in England, anyway. Della pulled a wry face; it appeared she wasn't the only one whose wits had deserted them!

  She sobered for a moment. Uncle Denny's death had come as a shock to Cal Tarn as well, and would excuse both of them for not thinking straight.

  A tap on the door announced the arrival of the morning tea, and Della gave the girl a tentative smile as she accepted her cup of tea.

  Yesterday she had felt bewildered and lost, not unlike an orphan suddenly claimed by someone they did not know, and afraid to leave their safe surroundings and venture out into the wilderness. Today was different; she had no intention of stepping out into the unknown. Cautious by nature, she would ease herself into her new life, taking one step at a time.

  While she bathed, she made a few plans. After contacting Mr Tarn, she would still have to stay for t the funeral on Wednesday—in two days' time. Afterwards she would look for employment; perhaps go back to Sydney where she had heard there was plenty of work for qualified people.

  When she thought of Rimmer's Way she felt sad, for she would have liked to have seen the ranch, but it was very obvious that Cal Tarn was an extremely busy man and not the kind of man to ask such a favour of—besides, he might feel she wanted to

  assess the property, and Della would have hated that.

  By the time she sat down to breakfast she had everything worked out. She would ring Alice—Alice would know where the cattle auction was being held, and she could thank her for the party at the same time.

  On the way to her room, Della was called back by the receptionist who told her there was a call for her, and would she prefer to take it in her room. Della chose the latter, hoping the call was from Cal Tarn, who had probably had second thoughts on the proposal.

  She knew a sharp sense of disappointment when she heard Alice's voice on the other end of the line.

  'Hi!' she said breathlessly. 'Couldn't wait to congratulate you—sorry about your uncle, by the way, but we're all buzzing with the news of the forthcoming marriage—how about that! If you want any help in buying your trousseau, I'll be only too pleased to show you the best places to shop.'

  Della's fingers froze on the receiver and her eyes widened in half-shock. 'How did you ...?' she began.

  Alice chuckled. 'My uncle works at the town hall —inside information, as you might say! Cal called there early this morning to make arrangements for the wedding.'

  'He's not left for the cattle auction, then?' Della said quickly, only one thought in mind.

  Another chuckle broke forth from Alice. 'Can't you wait till Wednesday to see him again?' she asked.

  'It's not that,' Della replied hastily. 'I must contact him. Would he be back at Rimmer's Way?'

  'I doubt it,' Alice said slowly. 'He wouldn't miss the auction, there's only two a year. He'd go there straight from town.'

  'But where?' persisted Della.

  'A small place called Malville,' Alice answered. 'It's about seventy miles from here. Now, how about that shopping?' she asked hopefully.

  Della had a horrible suspicion that a fine-meshed net was being gently laid over her. She was utterly astounded by Alice's calm acceptance of the bizarre situation. Was this the way folk paired off this side of the world? The hand holding the receiver clenched. 'Look, Alice,' she said firmly. 'You're going a bit too fast for me—so is Cal Tarn! Nothing is definitely settled. To be honest, I don't know if I'm on my head or my heels! '

  She heard Alice chuckle. 'Swept you off your feet, did he? That you should be so lucky! ' she sighed.

  'It's not that,' Della replied crossly. 'What with the shock of Uncle's death I haven't been given much chance to think things out—and I'm thinking them out now. I don't think there's any cause for congratulations.'

  'Are you 'crazy?' demanded Alice. 'You mean you're backing out? Look, I'm coming right over.' The phone was put down before Della could answer.

  With a grim expression and fingers that slightly shook, Della asked the operator for the Malville number. She had to get this thing settled before she did anything else. A helpful operator the other end soon had her connected with the premises the auction was being held at, and Della asked for Cal Tarn. There was a 'Hold on a minute, ma'am. I'll see if I can contact him,' and Della held on. No asking for the name to be repeated, she thought. As Alice had said, Cal Tarn's name was a big one around those parts.

  A few minutes later she heard the clipped tones of the man himself as he answered the call.

  Della found herself trembling slightly as she said breathlessly, 'It's Della Castle here, Mr Tarn. I've just thought of a way round what we were discussing last night.'

  'A way round what, Miss Castle?' his cold voice inquired.

  Della could have screamed
. He must have known what she meant yet he was not proving at all helpful. She gritted her teeth and tried again. 'I thought I would give you time to cancel the arrangements you said you'd have to make,' she said firmly; now let him plead ignorance !

  'I'm afraid it's a little late for second thoughts,' he said crisply. 'The arrangements stand; you're probably having an attack of nerves. Don't worry, go out and buy yourself some pretty clothes. I'm having to cut short my visit here as it is, so if you don't mind, I'll get back to the auction. I'll see you on Wednesday.'

  The receiver was firmly replaced the other end, leaving Della for the second time that morning holding on to a silent instrument.

  Having an attack of nerves? If that wasn't the understatement of the year! she thought. And as for treating her as a small girl needing placation by suggesting she buy herself some pretty clothes— Della was beyond words!

  Such was her mood when Alice found her a little while later. Sweeping into her room, she announced a trifle breathlessly, 'Look here, Della, you can't do it—call off the wedding, I mean. Why, Cal's one of the nicest, straightest men around this place.' She paused to draw breath, then carried on. 'It's all around town that you're getting married on Thursday.'

  Della eyed her dispassionately; it was all very well for Alice, she was half in love with the man herself. What Della couldn't understand was the way everybody seemed to be taking it so lightly. Anyone would think it was a job Cal Tarn was offering her, not marriage.

  She sighed despondently. 'It's all right, Alice. As you say, I'm getting married on Thursday. It appears,' she said bitterly, 'Cal is not letting me back out.'

  'I should think not!' replied Alice indignantly. 'Men like Cal Tarn are few and far between. I can't make you out; you ought to be over the moon. You're not scared of him, are you?'

  Della's eyebrows went up. 'Of course not!' she answered sharply. 'As for not making me out—I'm having trouble trying to understand the way you folk run things over here.' She shrugged. 'Cal Tarn and I are perfect strangers, yet no one appears to think it at all odd that we should marry.'