Free Wish by Kelly Hunter Page B

offering to take her somewhere other than the remotest corners of his property. ‘Can Cal come too?’
    ‘You don’t want this pup to be a surprise on Christmas day?’
    ‘If it were one of Blue’s puppies, no question I’d keep it a surprise. Given that it’s not, I think I’d rather Cal choose for himself. It’ll be his dog. Better that way, don’t you think?’
    Hard to tell what Adam thought because he closed his eyes again and draped his arm across his face for good measure. A body wide open for her pleasure and a mind and heart so firmly closed.
    ‘I said I’d give Si a hand drenching ewes this Sunday,’ he said after what felt like an eternity. ‘How about then?’
     
    Adam kept his word. And as he pulled up to the cottage on Sunday just before lunch time, Billie told Cal where they were going. Probably not the best idea she’d ever had, given the instant hero worship in her son’s eyes as he looked to Kincaid and to Blue in the back and climbed eagerly into the cab of the ute.
    ‘Hey,’ said Adam.
    ‘Mum says you’re taking us to look at a pup and that if we like him we can buy him.’ Cal aimed for cool, calm and collected, but the blinding smile that followed his words gave him away. ‘One of Blue’s puppies?’
    ‘No. Blue doesn’t have any pups on the ground at the moment. For that we’d have to find a bitch and you’d have to wait another four or five months. Maybe longer.’
    ‘Oh.’ Cal pondered the dilemma of waiting versus instant gratification.
    ‘This pup is one my brother kept over from
his
bitch’s last litter. He was planning on training him to run sheep but it turns out he’s not much of a sheepdog. Or cattle dog, for that matter.’
    ‘So what does he herd?’ asked Cal.
    ‘Ducklings,’ said Adam. ‘Straight back to their mother.’
    Cal peppered Adam with questions as they drove to wherever it was they were going. Into town and out the other side, with Adam doling out snippets of information as they went. The pup in question was six months old and all foolishness and legs, with one eye blue and the other eye brown. Which led to talk of music, and no little debate over favourite albums and hits.
    And then they passed through an impressive set of wrought iron gates flanked by a large, no-nonsense sign that read
Kincaid Stud Holdings
.
    ‘Wow,’ said Cal, as they continued along a smooth straight dirt track, lined either side with huge poplars. ‘Your brother must be loaded.’
    Billie winced and gave her errant son a dig in the ribs, never mind that he’d voiced her thoughts exactly.
    ‘What?’ protested Cal. ‘It wasn’t a
question
about money.’
    ‘It was more of a statement,’ said Adam.
    ‘Yeah,’ echoed Cal with a nod. ‘A statement.’
    ‘It still wasn’t polite. Even if you think it, you shouldn’t say it.’
    ‘But you and Maude and Roly talk about money all the time.’
    ‘We talk about the business and how much things cost. I don’t ask them how much they’ve got. There’s a difference.’
    ‘This is the main family farm,’ intercepted Adam easily, and if Billie didn’t know better she’d have said he was running interference for her son. ‘My great grandfather planted the trees along this driveway and every Kincaid since then has added their bit. On paper, we own a lot of land and far too many sheep but the bottom line is that that this place costs plenty to maintain and the income we take off it is a modest one. Like most farming families hereabouts, we tend to be asset rich and cash poor.’
    Yeah, right.
    Billie’s idea of cash poor was getting down to less than a hundred dollars in her savings account and knowing full well that the car rego was due. She didn’t know what Adam’s idea of cash poor involved, but she was betting it didn’t involve a double-digit bank balance. It was a distinction she hadn’t seen quite so clearly out at Casey’s Ridge, but she was seeing it now. ‘It’s only Simon, right? And his sheep.