Chapter One

 

The early morning stillness was shattered as the noise of heavy earth moving machinery reverberated around Bradford’s Mountain. The whine of the chainsaws sounded like the trees were screaming out in agony. Brightly colored parrots shot up from the treetops in a frenzied cloud. 

“Let’s form a human chain across the track. Quickly, Roger,” Jo shouted. “Hurry up, Sharon.”

Six of the protesters linked hands as the ground vibrated beneath the tracks of a giant bulldozer. The large yellow monstrosity gouged deep holes in the virgin soil, ripping and crushing anything that came into its path. If they disturbed the spirits at Dry River Crossing the curse of the stones would be released. She wasn’t sure if she really believed the legend, but her father who was superstitious, was adamant. The place was cursed.

“We’ll all be killed,” Sharon screamed.

“Don’t be idiotic. You can go if you like, Shaz.” Jo shook with nerves, but these city people could not be allowed to rape the mountain.

The bulldozer stopped. A man dropped to the ground and strode toward them. “Bloody conservationists.” His voice was cold as forged steel. “Don’t try that chaining yourself to a tree stunt, because I’ll have no compunction about running…”

“Now look here,” Jo interrupted him. “You’re on private property.”

“Am I?”

He was so tall, Jo at just over five feet, had to tilt her head back to look into his ruggedly handsome face. “My father owns this mountain.”

“News to me. I was informed this area was government land,” he growled. “Time is money to me, and I won’t waste it on ratbags like you.”

The others edged away. Roger shuffled his feet nervously as Jo defied the man.

“Take me to your boss. I don’t deal with the hired help.” She tossed her head, hoping he would take it as a contemptuous gesture.

This giant of a man was clad in a dusty T-shirt and cut down jeans.

With hands on her hips she stared him down.

His blue eyes, so dark they were almost violet, practically sliced her in two, yet his voice was only one or two octaves above normal. “Stay out of my way, lady. I won’t be stopping this bulldozer again until I’ve cleared a path through here.”

She inwardly shivered at the cold savagery emanating from him. “I’ll get the law on to you. Vandal. Desecrator.” She might well have spoken to a granite statue for all the effect it had. His face remained impassive. His chin, covered with black stubble, was determined. There was nothing else to do except let Roger drag her away.

“You’ve done your best, Jo, after all they’re only making a road through one portion of the mountain.”

“You think it will end there?” Her green eyes flashed. “This is only the beginning, they’re after the timber on the other side of the mountain. They will eventually widen the road for all those lumber trucks. And what about the tunnel they’re proposing to build?”

“Let’s go to your place, I could do with a drink before I start work.” Roger fingered his bearded chin.

“Come back to my place everyone,” Jo invited.

“No, better get back to town, I don’t want to be late for work,” Sharon said. “I’ve already been told off once this week. Will I see you at the dance on Saturday?”

“Maybe. Thanks for coming everyone.”

“Well, we made our protest, not that it did much good.” Kevin’s normally thin lips disappeared when he smiled. There was something cunning and sneaky about him, yet he had never actually done anything untoward.

They parted company, Jo and Roger started up the mountain, the others headed into town.

“I hope this has taught you a lesson,” Roger said. “I’ll pick you up after work. We can drive to Wangaratta and have tea at Darcy’s restaurant.”

“No thanks. I can’t, not on a week night.”

“You don’t start work all that early, besides, you can hardly call minding a bunch of kids a real job.”

“Of course it is.” She laughed because she could never be serious for long. “Those little devils keep me on my toes.”

“You’re like a big kid yourself.” He stopped so suddenly she crashed into him. “Let’s get engaged.”

“I like you Roger, but I don’t love you.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m mad for you.” He pressed hot, urgent kisses all over her face. She tried to return his caresses with some feeling, but couldn’t.

“Just friends, please.” She pushed him away, wondering why he didn’t raise her blood pressure, even a quickened heartbeat would have been something. They had gone to school together, even if he was a year older than her twenty years. Her father liked him, everyone liked him. It wasn’t enough, she wanted more; exactly what she wasn’t sure.

Perched halfway up Bradford’s Mountain, her father’s log cabin blended with the tall trees surrounding it. Smoke drifting lazily from the chimney bid them welcome.

“Dad must have lit the fire. He was still in bed when I left.” She grabbed Roger’s hand as they ran the last hundred yards or so to the front yard.

“Your cabin always looks as if it’s ready to topple off that mountain, I think it’s only the trees holding it up.”

“Thanks for coming today.” She rubbed her cheek against his bare arm. “I know the mountain doesn’t mean as much to you as it does to us. Dad always says…”

“It’s a little piece of paradise, I’ve heard it all before. The colonel is paranoid about the place and making you the same way.”

No gates or fences surrounded their property to keep wandering stock at bay. Their few animals, a dog, a cat, and a parrot who sang dirty ditties, were quite content to remain in their allocated area. Daisy, their house cow, browsed her life away, happily munching the sweet grass, yet was like a homing pigeon when it came to milking. They would never let her venture anywhere near Dry River Crossing because cattle who ate the grass there always died. The curse of the stones her father always said. The place was dangerous for both man and beast.

“Hey, Dad we’re home.” They climbed the two steps leading to the front porch and she pushed the door open.

“How did it go?” The colonel peered at them from behind thick glasses.

“A disaster, Dad.” She flopped into one of two leather armchairs in the sitting room. “Have a seat, Roger.” She waved her hand at the other chair. He chose to sit on the arm of hers instead, and ran his fingers through her already tousled short curls.

“Jo clashed with this big hulk of man, Colonel. All of six feet eight inches tall,” he exaggerated.

“Surely you didn’t?”

“Yes, I did.” She bounded up and did a little jig around the room. “He threatened to have me arrested, do you think he could?”

I don’t know. Maybe if he got one of those slick, city lawyers who can make you believe black is white and white is black, he could.”

“I’ll get the teapot.” She left the room laughing, disregarding Roger’s puzzled expression. He didn’t know another plan swirled around in her fertile brain.

I’ll stop those city slickers or die in the attempt.

After making the tea she placed the mugs on a tray and returned to the sitting room. “A new sawmill will create a lot of employment, Colonel.”

“And ruin the mountain in the process. Every stream will be choked with debris; the wild life will disappear. The cost is too great,” the colonel retorted.

She handed over the tea. “I agree with Dad, a big city firm like Page Constructions is only interested in making quick money. They’ll strip the mountain, pollute the environment, and once everything is ruined, they’ll leave.”

“Jo is right.” The colonel scrubbed his hands through his thick white hair. For nearly one hundred and fifty years this town has survived without a mill, now, because a few Jonny-Come-Latelys on the council, have visions of grandeur, the whole area will be ruined.”

“OK, you’ve convinced me.” Roger grinned. “I’m willing to help in any way I can.”

“Thanks.”