swimming with clients. It’s absolutely not done.’
‘What a pity.’
‘It is a pity.’ Another grin. ‘But don’t let me stop you.’
‘From stripping?’
‘Be my guest. I promise I won’t produce a camera. Or if I do it’ll be a very small one.’
‘You know, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if you’re carrying one, along with your leech repellent,’ he said bitterly.
She laughed. Her lovely chuckle rang out, free and joyous, and he sat still in his saddle and stared at her. Then as she moved off he had to make an almost visible effort to follow.
What on earth was happening to him? He didn’t have a clue!
But in the end she did swim. In the end she didn’t have a choice. Molly reached the river before Jackson, and by the time he reached her she was staring across the slow-moving current, her laughter completely disappeared.
‘What’s wrong?’ His gaze followed hers and found what she was looking at. ‘Oh…’
Upriver, a couple of small logs had fallen over a cut in the bank, and twigs and leaf matter had piled high. They’d seen the debris as they’d ridden, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened next.
A tiny kangaroo, barely half grown, had hopped out onto the debris, thinking it a firm foothold. It wasn’t. The debris around the joey told its own story. The whole mat had given way and the baby kangaroo was now drifting helplessly towards the sea.
On the far bank a full-grown ’roo was following her offspring’s progress in obvious terror. She was leaping along the bank and then gazing back to the bushland, knowing she shouldn’t venture far from cover but compelled to follow her baby. Back in the shadows were the remaining mob, sleeping out the heat of the day and oblivious to the drama being played out nearby.
And it was drama. The joey would be out to sea in no time-or washed away and drowned. Jackson turned to Molly and found her off her horse and tugging at her boots.
‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘I can reach him.’
‘You’ll be swept out to sea.’
‘Not me. I’m a country girl-remember? Born and bred by the sea. I can swim like a fish.’
He was down from his horse, grasping her arms to restrain her. ‘Don’t be stupid. It’s only a ’roo.’
Only a ’roo… The words hung between them. She gave an angry wrench but he held her still.
‘Molly, no.’
‘I can do it. Only a ’roo? Yeah, like it was only a frog. I can’t let it drown.’
‘And how do you propose grabbing it? You’ll be cut to pieces.’ He looked at her face and saw implacability. With an inward groan he turned to assess the river.
Maybe she was right. Maybe the thing was possible. The water looked clear enough. Apart from the tumble of debris around the ’roo there seemed little enough to trap and hold, and the clear running water appeared sand- bottomed and friendly.
‘I’ll go in,’ he told her.
‘You can’t!’
‘Why not?’ He was hauling the saddle from his horse. ‘We’ll need the saddlecloth to hold the joey. Help me.’
‘You…’ She took a deep breath and steadied, sanity prevailing. ‘If you drown, Trevor will kill me. “Millionaire Killed by Baby Kangaroo.” I don’t think so.’
‘I don’t intend to drown.’
They glared at each other. ‘So we’ll go in together,’ Molly snapped.
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He had the blanket free now, and was concentrating on hauling off his boots.
‘Who’s ridiculous? One in, all in.’ And Molly’s shoes were kicked aside and she entered the water before he did.
Jackson didn’t follow. Not straight away. He paused and waited.
It never paid to jump in at the deep end. Hadn’t he learned that over and over in his business life? And what was needed here was a bit of calm-headed logic.
Molly seemed to know what she was doing, and, watching her, he was reassured. She’d dived in downstream and was fighting the current to reach midstream before the joey reached her. He watched for a whole three seconds-enough to see her move with strokes that were strong and sure. Enough to see that she was safe.
Okay, then. Molly was fine. Now for one ’roo. He tied the saddlecloth around his hips, strode swiftly downstream and dived in after the pair of them.
Molly was a good swimmer, but Jackson was better. Where she cut diagonally through the current, Jackson simply stroked straight across.
The joey was still floating towards them, his two small ears and his huge eyes almost all they could see above the surface. The debris he was floating on was breaking apart and his platform was sinking by the minute.
Jackson reached midriver first, and trod water as he waited. Molly was slightly upstream, but coming fast.
As she reached him he held out a hand and grasped-strong, sure and determined. Molly had enough time to register the strength of his hold, and ten seconds later the joey cannoned into the wall they’d created with their linked arms.
The kangaroo might only be half grown, but with his underwater platform of branches he seemed to weigh a ton. And the little creature was terrified-as much of these two strange humans as he was of the river. He backed away. His platform wobbled, steadied, wobbled again.
Let him not jump…
Combined, Jackson and Molly formed a trap. They were linked by joined hands, and the joey was locked between them, their arms making a triangle with the ’roo’s platform in the apex. But they were all being swept inexorably towards the river mouth.
And at the river mouth…rocks.
‘Get back to shore,’ Jackson gasped at Molly. ‘You can’t do this.’
‘I can.’
‘I’ll do it. You go back.’ He tried to disengage their hands to leave her free, but she was having none of it.
‘No. Let’s both try.’
‘Molly, you don’t have the right. Remember Sam.’
Great. Here she was, risking life and limb, and he was reminding her of her responsibilities. As if she needed reminding. She wasn’t risking anything, she thought angrily. She could do this!
‘We’re wasting effort,’ she gasped. ‘Just swim.’ Their hands stayed linked. His hold was sure and strong, and she wasn’t relinquishing it for the world. The joey was between them, the little creature’s eyes on a level with theirs. His terror was palpable.
And still he backed away. The ’roo wouldn’t stay on the platform while they guided him ashore. He’d jump any minute.
‘I’ll get behind him,’ Jackson gasped. ‘Stay where you are.’
There was one branch larger than the rest that formed the joey’s foothold. Molly grasped it lightly, trying not to pressure it any further underwater. She didn’t want the joey washed off.
Then she tried to keep the joey’s attention on her. ‘Watch me,’ she gasped, figuring what Jackson intended before she was told. She bobbed up and down and kept on talking as the joey backed a little more. She was trying to keep the joey’s eyes fixed on her.
And then Jackson was behind him. He trod water for a moment, steadied, and raised the sodden blanket. Before the joey could react he dropped the rug, and in one swift movement he had the joey trussed like a Christmas parcel.
The razor-tipped paws slashed, but the cloth was made of thick felt. Jackson swore, steadied, swore again and floated on his back. The wrapped joey writhed furiously on his chest, but finally was still.
