CHAPTER 1
Although it was the first calendar month of spring in South Australia a nip in wind from the south-south-west and originating in the Southern Ocean, swept across the plains to the ranges and into the remote servicing town of Respite Crossing to emphasize only the foolish would be wearing warm weather clothing just yet.
Dressed in a zipped fleece-lined jacket that reached just below his hips, snug wool trousers, thick socks and old Army boots and a battered black stockman's hat, Nash McLeod drove into town in his veteran open ex-Army Jeep.
Town dogs cowered and crept away to hide, perhaps indicating what smart dogs they were. Everyone knew Nash farmed sheep and shot stray dogs from up to a quarter-mile away where the dogs believed they were safe from anything. Nash had been a sniper in the war, no one knew what war or where, but he was reputed to have turned fifty over winter.
Nobody particularly liked Nash McLeod but he was polite so everyone had no reason to actually dislike the grumpy sod, unless they had a dog missing.
Rumor was Nash had fathered two of the seven children in the Mayor's brood and that perhaps explained why Nash was positively polite to the Mayor's wife, the only woman in town that Nash raised his hat to. Nash knew that Stella Stephens was his half-sister but only Stella and Nash knew that. Mayor Athol Stephens tended to believe the rumor about two of his brood being fathered by Nash, because one tends to believe persistent rumors. But the Mayor couldn't decided which two kids to cull because they all looked similar, having his blue eyes and pointy ears.
As usual, brown-eyed and rounded-eared Nash doubled parked outside Ma Brown's coffee and cake shop.
Double parking was a tow-away offence but the khaki Jeep was left untouched and never drew a complaint or had a traffic violation ticket stuck under a windscreen wiper. Apparently having a reputation as a highly decorated sniper and being known to regard complainants as dogs has its benefits.
Stomping sheep shit from his boots before walking on Ma Brown's pristine scrubbed floor, Nash glanced across the street and stopped. Fully turning he left the boardwalk and crossed to the pathetic-looking youngster huddled and shivering on the concrete surround of the statue of a bronze rifleman commemorating the district's dead from the Boer War.
"What's wrong kid?"
The white-faced and blue-lipped waif with dark bags under the eyes looked up at him and said, "Nothing."
"Christ, you're a girl, a young woman."
"I'm eighteen and pregnant."
Nash rubbed his chin. "So?"
"Sod off."
Nash bent down and picked her up.
The girl screamed, "Put me down you brute" but Nash returned across the street oblivious to her screams and the mouth-gaping stares of the few townspeople out and about before most businesses began to open for the day's trading. The kid was warming herself thumping at Nash with her fists, but she may just have well tried hammering a brick.
"Good morning Nash, what do we have here?"
"Ida grab a blanket and bring hot soup."
Ma Brown was staggered. In the fifteen years she'd known Nash he'd never called her anything but ma'am. She hadn't been aware he knew her name.
Ida hurried back with the thick wool blanket and then fetched a big mug of hot vegetable soup.
The girl looked at it and looked away.
"Start sipping or I'll cuff you," Nash growled.
She turned to look at him defiantly, saw his fearless, uncompromising face edged with a scowl and quickly cradled the cup and began sipping.
"It's the Findlay's brat isn't it?"
"Yes, Lisa."
"Call her parents and get them down here Ida."
Without looking at Ma Brown, Nash said she should tell Jake if he wasn't at the café with his wife within ten minutes he'd get a bullet up his ass.
The girl sitting beside Nash began shaking and he whispered, "Just kidding darling. He'll come running."
The both heard Ma Brown on the phone saying, "Yes Jessica, that's what he said, a bullet up the ass. No he didn't make a threat against you."
Burly coalminer Jake Findlay and his buxom wife hurried in and stood at the table in front of Nash.
"This your daughter?"
"Yes, she's my slut daughter."
"Watch your mouth Jake."
Jake thrust out his chest and bunched his hands into fists but Jessica urged, "No Jake, you know what happened to the O'Donovan family, completely obliterated."
"That was proven in Court to be a defective gas system."
"Jake, my mother told me Nash's uncle was a gasfitter. Nash would have learned from him."
Taking a step backwards, Jake said belligerently, "What do you want Nash?"
"I want to know why I found this girl dressed poorly and not at home?"
"Because I won't let the slut in the same house as me. When I'm home, she's out."
"Jessica?"
"When he's home I abide with Jake's decision."
Nash asked Ma Brown to get lawyer Tom Little down pronto.
"He doesn't leave for the office until 8:50. It's only 8:15."
"Ma'am, I know about your little secret."
Ida Brown turned white and raced to the phone.
"Jessica, grab two coffees and food for you and Jake. It will go on my tab. Sit down Jake."
Nash stood and repeated his request. The unsmiling Jake complied.
"He's on his way," Ida said. Nash thanked her and ordered hot milk for the kid and asked Ida to put everything being consumed on his tab.
"No, I owe you one Nash," she replied. "This is all on me. I'll pour coffee and butter a muffin for Tom."
Lean and bearded Tom Little entered and grinned. "A family conference with legal advice from me and no fee payable I take it?"
"You're sharp for a lawyer," Nash grinned. "Here comes your second breakfast. I understand any introduction between you and ma'am is unnecessary?"
Tom, who'd also been Nash's late father's lawyer, coped with his coughing fit and his secrete mistress managed not to drop his coffee and muffin.
"First Tom, I want you to seek from the Findlay's the age of their daughter Lisa sitting beside me."
Tom pulled out a notebook and ready to take notes asked, "Jake?"
"She's eighteen. What's this all about?"
"Preliminary moves to have Lisa removed to a more hospitable environment for her own safety and that of her baby, I would think," said Tom, who had a wife and three teenage kids. "But then I'm not running the show so don't take too much notice of me. This is for confirmation. Jessica how old is Lisa?"
"Eighteen years, three months and er three days."
"Lisa?"
There was silence.
Nash said softly, "Answer Mr Little."
"As mother said, eighteen years, three months and three days. Or four days if this talkfest continues much longer."
"Watch your lip Lisa."
"And if I don't daddy?"
"Shut your fucking mouth you slut."
Nash stood and said, "Let's have this out now Jake. Ma'am please fetch us a matching pair of carving knives."
Jessica screamed and Jake turned white and gasped, "Knives?"
"Yes daddy. Carve him up good Mr McLeod."
Nash was surprised the girl knew his name. He then heard Jake apologize to his daughter so sat down, bringing a gushed sigh of relief from Tom and a groan from Jessica. Ida Brown smiled.
"Right, Lisa has the choice of agreeing to come into my home care or going into care of the authorities until after the birth of her baby," Nash said. "What is to be Lisa, I'm giving you no other choice."
"I'm not going into state welfare care."
Nash smiled and said that was settled.
Lisa looked at him horrified while Tom ran his finger around his shirt collar, aware the parents were looking at him expecting some action. He cleared his throat and said, "Nash is entitled to lay a complaint of child neglect and alleged abuse. Although Lisa is eighteen it would appear she has not shifted away from home so legally is still under the care of her parents. The Judge will either send her to a foster home or toss out the complaint after giving the parents a rap over the knuckles for mistreating their teenager. It is not for me to give an opinion on what happens after that."
"Then I choose to go with Mr McLeod."
"Well, that's settled," Nash smiled. "Thank you Lisa and please record her comment of acceptance Tom and record who heard her declaration and send them copies of your account of proceedings here and my undertakings."
"Jake, you stay away from your home for the next hour because I don't want you there when Lisa, her mother and I are packing her things into my Jeep. I have a live-in housekeeper, Mrs Young, wife of my foreman Gary Young and a resident cook, Mrs Stewart, whose husband Lance bases his farm accountancy business in my home where he also acts as my accountant and business manager. Those two women will be paid a fee and charged to be Lisa's mentor and companion."