Du Rose Family Ties E-Book

K T Bowes

• Herausgeber: K T Bowes
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

A stray child. A mother’s heart. Cuckoos in the family nest.
As a prophecy still winds its wicked fingers through the lives of her children, Hana Du Rose is forced to consider its truths once again. "The sons will be the ruin of this family."

When she finds a stricken teenager injured in the bush, Hana tries to help him and ends up putting herself in danger. Parenting her fragile little nephew and raising her own children, it's not surprising that she extends the hand of friendship to this new stranger. But rescuing other people's stray children will demand a terrible price; one that Hana might not be willing to pay.

Readers’ say, “I found this hard to put down, I love the way Hana has grown throughout the books and never fails to surprise me.” Maureen

If you like heroines with a maternal flaw then you’ll love Hana Du Rose.

Leseprobe

Du Rose Family Ties

The Hana Du Rose Mysteries

K T Bowes

Published by Hakarimata PressCopyright 2016

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Acknowledgement

I dedicate this novel to my beautiful sister, Rebecca Arden, who makes me laugh, shares my sorrows and gives me advice. I lost you for a while there, but it won’t happen again. I will hold on more tightly this time and the rollercoaster of life will not shake me loose.

Chapter 1

Bush Emergency

“Something’s wrong!” The redhead lifted the reins in her left hand and the white horse halted under her, drawing a cloud of dust from the baked earth. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah.” Her companion stopped to listen, his Appaloosa shifting with impatience and dragging his hooves on the track.

“Three shots mean there’s a hunter in distress.” She turned in the saddle, her green eyes intense on his face. “Don’t they?”

He groaned and ran his dusty hand through curly, blonde hair. “No, please let’s not do this, Mrs Du Rose? Your husband warned me you were the biggest distraction on this mountain.”

Her inhalation sounded sharp as she widened her eyes and feigned shock. “That’s mean! I don’t even need you. I know this mountain as well as you do, David Allen!”

“Yeah, well I don’t know it that well so get a move on, we need to get the cattle to the bottom before dark.” David peered around Hana at the little band of calves who hung around on the track ahead of them. They spread out nervously, tugging at green shoots in the undergrowth, the native ferns unappetising. Their tufty cream and patchy black bodies made them look more like giant teddy bears than the younger members of a lucrative beef herd. “Do a head count. Have we still got twelve?”

“Er, yeah, I think so. They won’t keep still.”

David sighed with exaggerated drama, pushing his dusty cowboy hat back on his head. His horse snorted with impatience and pawed the ground again. A crackly sound broke into the calm of the bush as the radio on David’s saddle projected Logan Du Rose’s voice into the air. David winced. He unhooked the walkie talkie and pushed it towards his companion. “You answer it. He’s your husband.”

“He’s your boss!” Hana smiled smugly and tried to count the cattle, growling her exasperation as two kicked up their heels and fled down the track. The rest surged after them.

“Come in, Hana!” Logan’s voice held an edge of impatience, blended with an undertone of fear.

“I hear ya.” David’s voice was low and deep, feigning calm as he spoke into the handset. “What’s up?”

“You’re late. There’s only thirteen calves. It shouldn’t take all day!”

David’s mouth dropped open in horror. “Twelve. There were twelve up there. That’s what Toby said and that’s what we’re droving.”

“We’ve been back hours now. Toby’s ridden up the road twice. Where the hell are you?”

“Er...” David bit his lip and watched Hana’s shapely form as she weaved the large mare around the calves on the track, herding them back into a tight knot. Her red hair flowed out behind her, the hair clip shucked an hour ago in the mud up near the Du Rose house at the top of the mountain. Dust and bush debris covered the back of her shirt and David gulped. “We took the scenic route and Mrs Du Rose fell off.”

A string of expletives split the air with such vehemence, David fumbled the radio. Then, “Is she okay?”

“Logan, she’s fine. She got straight back on. She’s just...” David bit back the word and saw Hana shake her head and smirk.

“Don’t say it to him!” she called up the track. “He won’t be so understanding.”

“Whatever! You are unmanageable. You’re a complete bloody nightmare!”

“Are you talking to my wife?” Logan’s voice crackled through the radio as David released the call button and his eyes bugged. He stared accusingly at his finger and tried not to cringe. Hana let out a peel of laughter. “Just get back here. Stop mucking around!” Logan’s voice crackled again and David sighed as he fixed the radio back over its clip.

“Great, thanks for that. Now I’m offside with him!”

“No, you’re not. He worries about me and I’m fine. You shouldn’t have told him I fell off though.” Hana reached forward and caressed the soft, furry neck beneath her fingers. “It was an accident. It wasn’t your fault, was it Sacha?”

The horse’s ears flicked back and forth as the mare nodded her head, snuffling softly and crunching on the metal bit in her mouth. David shook his head and edged his horse towards Hana and the surging knot of calves. “You’re covered in muck and you’ve got crap in your hair. He’d have noticed and then yelled at me.”

“Coward!” Hana reached behind her and yanked a fern from her long red hair. It resisted, breaking into pieces and she combed it out with slender fingers. “There’s a way to tell my husband bad news and that wasn’t it. You’ll learn.” She winked at David and sensed his unease, relenting and nudging Sacha into a tight turn. “It’s fine, David. It was my own silly fault. He won’t blame you.”

“Yeah, he will.” The man sounded fed up. “All those years as a British airman and I never had a sergeant like him. He’s ruthless.”

“He has to be,” Hana replied, her voice wistful. “It’s a harsh world and there aren’t many breaks for people like us. Loyalty’s hard won on this mountain and not everyone we like is trustworthy.”

“I know.” David pushed his gelding into a lazy trot and rounded up a stray calf pulling at a supplejack vine. “Get on with ya!” He tapped the furry flank with the thong of his bull-whip and the small animal surged forward, nosing into the bunch.

“The gate’s round the next bend,” Hana said, jerking her head backwards. “Logan wants them in the first paddock so we’re done. I’ll corral them here if you ride ahead and open the gate, then I’ll drive them forward.”

David grunted. “Then I’ll spend the next six months hearing all the reasons why we should have brought them down by road.”

Hana rolled her eyes and tossed her head. The remains of the fern let go of her auburn curls and fluttered into the bush. “Nev told me not to take them by road!” Hana protested. “And I’ll tell my husband that! Nev said the washout on the cliff would freak them out and make it unsafe.”

“Well, get your story straight then!” David bit, urging his horse into a fast trot. He skirted the knot of jittery calves and made for the next bend as Hana’s horse ducked and weaved to keep the beasts where she wanted them. She held her bull-whip at arm’s length but didn’t crack it, not wanting to start a small stampede.

Logan Du Rose owned the mountain, running a hotel, motel units, holiday park and a successful beef and horse stud business. His half-brother, Neville was the farm manager, but their communication skills were sadly lacking sometimes.

“Well, furry babies,” Hana spoke to the calves, seeing twelve pairs of brown eyes turn towards her. “Now you’ve finished eating my front garden, you get promoted to the big paddocks. It’s been nice having you stay, but I wish you’d learned to poo in one place.”

The sparkiest of the bunch jerked his front feet as though to make a run for it and Hana moved her bull-whip as the group surged in a circle, pinned by her whip and Sacha’s exacting hooves. “I actually won’t miss you!” She directed her comment at the sparky steer with the glint in his eye as he circled and looked for an escape route. “Come on guys, I bottle fed you all and played mummy to you and this is how you repay me? Ingratitude is one of the ugliest sins, ya know?”

Knotty tails flicked against the midges swirling around in the humid bush landscape and the world was silent, except for the occasional snort or stamp. Sacha’s body tensed, waiting for one of them to break so she could give chase. Hana felt powerful muscles shift under her thighs. “Yeah, give me warning next time, Sacha. It’s great you know what you’re doing, but half the time I don’t. I’m not Logan; not even a poor substitute.” Hana turned her head a fraction, feeling the tension in the herd increase with the prolonged wait. Something caught her eye on the ear of the smallest calf. “Is that a pink ribbon?” she asked, incredulous. She bit back a smile at her daughter’s ingenuity. Her tiny children loved bottle feeding the calves. Two-and-a-half-year-old Phoenix and Hana’s son, ten-month old Mac, treated them like huge, furry pets, which was probably the reason Logan decided to move them.

“It’s open.” David cantered up the track on his leggy gelding and the small herd jerked in alarm. Hana lifted Sacha’s reins in an upward direction and lowered the whip. The white mare backed up into the bush until her fetlocks encountered the winding supplejack vine and then she halted, crunching on her bit and watching the cattle through experienced eyes.

“Get on!” Hana clicked her tongue and tapped the furry bottoms gently with her whip. They bunched together, their eyes rolling and frightened, staying close to her as their substitute parent. “Come on babies!” she protested and David snorted. Hana sighed. “Right guys, Mama’s gonna play dirty if you don’t move!”

Frustrated by David’s obvious disdain, Hana released the thong on her bull-whip and moved it out to the side. She nudged Sacha, so she was side on to the cattle and saw the mare’s skilled ears flick as her body tensed. Hana raised her arm, keeping the whip moving behind her, waiting until she heard the tail make a familiar swish as it straightened. Then she whipped forward, keeping her arm solid as she’d practiced many times. There was a terrific crack and the cattle surged, running and bucking along the track in a furry, cream rush. The biggest calf made a detour into the rugged undergrowth but changed his mind as the others left him. They hurtled down the narrow track as a bunch, spreading out as they turned the corner and spied the lush green grass ahead.

Hana turned with a look of smug satisfaction. It was wasted. David’s strong torso bent over his gelding’s neck as he cantered after the calves, his hooves kicking up dust and bush debris behind him. The Appaloosa’s tail lifted high in the air as he enjoyed the run, dispelling his pent up energy. David managed his reins in his left hand, his right arm straight with the coiled whip. “Well done, Hana!” she called after him, seeking his approval. He raised his arm in response and over the bull-whip, she spied the fingers making a rude gesture. “Telling Logan!” she shouted into the bouncing air molecules. The tui overhead cackled as David disappeared round the corner.

“Good girl, Sacha. I can tell you’re impressed.” Hana ran her hand down the glossy neck of Logan’s favourite mare, rewarded by a toss of the magnificent head. “Come on then, best get down and face the music. Logan and Nev need to start communicating!” Hana clicked her tongue and the mare danced into action, keen to follow the dappled gelding to the fresh grass.

Rounding the corner, Hana found David on the ground waiting. He held his horse’s reins and tapped the coiled bull-whip against the fabric of his jeans. “Nice of you to join us!” He kept the gate closed against the calves bunching around him and Hana tutted.

“Stop worrying, David! Nev told me to use the bush track, so we did. Logan will be fine and I won’t involve you.”

The stockman ran the back of his hand across his sweating forehead. “Just get in the bloody gate!”

Sacha took a step towards the gate and snorted at the gathered crowd behind it, threatening them with her blue wall eye, rolling in its sinister white rim. The calves moved backwards with slow hooves, not yet feeling their freedom in the acreage which rolled out behind them in a healthy green arc. David tapped the whip, growing more impatient by the second. Sweaty blonde curls poked from under his hat and his biceps flexed, communicating his irritation.

It came again. The echo of three shots fired together in quick succession. Hunter in distress.

Hana’s head whipped back towards the mountain and she saw the flutter of native birds as they rose from the trees in a sudden flurry, moving away from the alarm. “That’s the ridge above the forty-eighth,” she said, turning her eyes back to David’s worried face. “Someone’s in trouble.” With a flick of Hana’s reins the white mare whirled on her back feet and took off along the track, galloping uphill at a terrific pace.

“Get back here!” David yelled after Hana, coughing in the dust cloud she kicked up behind her.

“Radio it in!” she shouted over her shoulder as she disappeared back into the dense New Zealand bush.

Chapter 2

Freefall

“They don’t give me any credit!” Hana chuntered to herself. She led the horse through the thick undergrowth towards the ridge, getting her legs caught in the perilous supplejack vine and ripping her arms on bush lawyer. She stopped to tie another pink hair ribbon to a tree branch, looping it securely round and tying it. A line of them stretched back the way she came, fluttering in the light breeze and marking her route. “Thank goodness I forgot to put these in Phoe’s hair this morning,” she smirked. “Now I can pretend I always come into the bush equipped.”

Sacha snorted and Hana stroked the white brow with soft fingers. “Sorry, Sach. I’m just gonna shout again,” she warned. “Hello!” she yelled, causing the mare to blink and shake her head.

The going was tough and Hana felt scratched and prodded in every available space on her body. She drew to a halt facing the deep gully and turned to the horse. “I think you’re done now, girl. You can’t go any further.” Hana stroked the soft lips surrounding the metal bit and left a trail of blood from the cuts on her fingers. She inspected the horse’s legs which looked largely unscathed. “This was a stupid idea, Logan’s gonna be livid.”

The mare whinnied and stamped her furry foot in impatience.

“I’ll shout once more and then go home and face Logan’s wrath,” Hana sighed. “He’ll kill me. And then he’ll kill David. Maybe we can be buried together although after today, David’s dead body will probably move itself well away from mine.” Hana let go of the reins and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hello!” she shouted, hearing her voice carry across the ridge and into the canopy. It echoed back, disjointed and strange. Nothing.

“Okay, I quit.” Hana’s voice sounded flat as her mind ran through the lecture her husband would give her. Sacha tensed as the thin voice carried up the steep slope, the words unintelligible. Hana held her breath and looked at the horse’s blue eye, waiting to see if the sound came again.

“Somebody help me!”

Hana’s eyes widened. “There is somebody and we’ve found them!” She bounced on the soles of her cowboy boots with excitement. She peered into the cavernous drop and spied the smallest flash of fluorescent orange before it disappeared. “Stay still!” she shouted. “I’m trying to locate where you are.”

The orange shape moved back into view and stayed there long enough for Hana to pick a landmark. She hissed in frustration. “It’s a man and he’s near the derelict hut. It would’ve been easier to get there from our house on the other side of the mountain. What now?”

Sacha’s tack clinked and Hana bit her lip. “Are you hurt?” she yelled into the space below her feet.

The voice came back to her on the wind, sounding pathetic. “Broken leg.”

“Oh great, now I’ve done it!” Hana sighed at her own impulsiveness. She brought nothing to rescue the man with and no radio to summon help. David hadn’t followed her in her recklessness either.

“Help me!” The voice came again, whipped past Hana’s face by the up draught.

“I’m coming!” she called back, screwing up her face at Logan’s horse. “I kinda have to now,” she said to the mare’s impassive blue eye. “He’s expecting me to do something and I’m already in trouble.”

Hana breathed out through pursed lips and made a series of decisions. Sacha blew out her stomach as Hana undid her girth. The heavy stock saddle slipped off and Hana placed it on the cantle against a nikau palm. Undoing the throat lash, she took the bridle from the mare’s regal head and let her spit the bit from her mouth. Hana scratched her poll with nervous fingers and looked into the horse’s wise face. “Sacha, I need you to find Logan. Can you do that for me? Go home, Sacha. Find Logan.”

The mare shook her head from side to side and showered Hana with bush debris from her mane. Hana coughed and stamped her foot. “You know exactly what I mean, so do it, please?”

Sacha shifted her feet and Hana resorted to her badly spoken Māori, knowing it was nothing to do with the language but the tone of her voice. Somehow using her husband’s familiar tongue felt comforting. “Whai Logan! Ā kāti, karawhiua atu, hōiho! Please, Sacha. Go!”

Part Stationbred and part Appaloosa, Sacha turned her massive body in the small space at the top of the ridge, dislodging rock and soil which tumbled over the side. She picked her way back through the undergrowth, stumbling over the troublesome vines as she followed the route back to the track. Hana leaned over the ridge. “Help will be a good hour away,” she called. “But I’ll stay here.” She watched Sacha’s lumbering flank and gnawed on her bottom lip. “Silly horse could go anywhere now I’ve upset her,” she sighed.

“Are you still there?” the plaintive voice wailed and Hana bit back her exasperation.

“Yes! I’ll climb down so watch out for debris!” She eyed the yawning drop before her. “And watch out for me, I might come down with it!” she whispered.

It proved a dreadful descent, something an extreme rock climber might have considered employing ropes and crampons to tackle. Hana didn’t realise that until she became stuck somewhere in the middle, too far to climb back up and too high to drop safely to the bottom. She clung to an outcrop with her left hand, the skin on her fingers tearing and her fingernails ragged. Her right arm and both legs hugged an unwilling gum tree trunk as it jutted out from the ridge, blessedly branch free.

“Are you coming?” The voice sounded nearer, hope fading in the weakness of the cry.

“Yes!” Hana spat. “I’m just having a spot of bother and if you keep shouting that, I’m dropping a rock on your sorry head!”

“What?”

“Nothing! Yes, I’m coming!” Hana rested her forehead against the trunk and considered her options. There weren’t many. The buckles of Sacha’s bridle dug into her body and the leather girth had slipped and restricted her arms. Taking something to brace the man’s leg seemed like a good idea as she had wrapped the expensive tack around her body. Slowly it turned into the thing which would kill her.

Hana fought the urge to scream and weep alternately. She prayed instead. “Oh dear God, please forgive my sins before I die. I haven’t got time to list them all but there’s lots. Please bless my children, the cute little ones and the big ones; Phoenix, Mac, Isobel and Beauden. Please remember he likes to be called Bodie and bless his sorry, stubborn ass, Lord, because he needs all the help he can get. Bless Logan. He’s so gorgeous, he’ll find another wife but please can you make it someone who does as she’s told more than me...”

“You’re praying!” The voice became a wail. “You think I’m gonna die!” It sounded younger than Hana previously thought and she tried to steel herself to make the rest of the journey.

“Shut up, I’m just resting! My arms ache!” Hana shouted back, hearing the wobble in her voice. Her ridiculous plan to slide down the trunk of the gum tree seemed really stupid as she clung to it like a panda bear. Hana let go of the rock face and used her limbs to hold onto the tree. She made the mistake of looking at the ground below, swarming with supplejack vine and nasty, sharp boulders. The tree grew out of the bottom of the ridge at a jaunty angle, bending upwards in its efforts to reach the light. It groaned and moved every time Hana shifted her weight and her arms ached so badly, the muscles trembled, making holding on even harder.

Straightening her legs, Hana gripped with her feet, grateful for the rubber soles of her cowboy boots. She bent her body and clasped the tree trunk between her knees and dared to move one hand lower in a jerky movement. She repeated the sequence, legs, hand, other hand, legs, hand, other hand. The ground came gradually nearer and Hana concentrated on the childhood skill of tree climbing, not used much in her forty-eighth year of life.

A metre from the ground, Hana tried to stretch her body, finding the action impossible. Feeling ridiculous, she completed the sequence of movements until there was no more tree trunk and she could persuade her hands to let go. She stepped back and bent double, willing herself not to be sick as pain shot through every muscle in her body.

“Can you help me, now?” The young male in front of Hana waved his arms to get her attention. She ran a hand across her top lip and saw blood on the backs of her fingers.

“Yep,” she gasped. “Just having a nose bleed. I banged it on the way down.” She used her sleeve to mop at it, alarmed when even more came away.

“You look worse than me,” the man said, his voice sounding tired. “Where are the others?”

“I don’t know.” Hana sank to the ground next to him, trying to take stock of his injuries amidst their remote surroundings. Once there, she saw he was a teenager and couched her words with care. “They’ll be here. I sent Sacha back to raise the alarm and a stockman saw me ride off in search of the gun shots.” Hana released the buckle on the girth and unwound it from around her shoulders. Then she unclipped the bridle, wincing at the pain in her cut fingers.

“You heard that?” The teenager sounded pleased with himself. “I ran out of cartridges about two hours ago.”

“How many times did you fire?” Hana asked, shifting her atrophied muscles so she could observe him and check for injury.

“I tried it last night but nobody came. So I waited and did it again this morning. I had enough to do six more shots and that was it.”

Hana gaped. “You’ve been lying here since yesterday.” She put her hand up to her mouth as he nodded.

The boy’s face looked deathly pale and his hands shook as he tried to rub his face. Dark circles marked the skin under his eyes and his lips were pale and cracked. Hana looked around, seeing nothing but the useless shot gun at his side. “Do you have water, food or supplies?” she asked.

“It’s all back at the hut. I went looking for breakfast yesterday morning. A wild pig trotted past and I tracked it here, but it charged me and I fell backwards over that rock.” He pointed with a dirty, shaking finger. “The pig ran off, which was good because if it stayed to finish the job, I’d be messed up worse.”

Hana looked around warily. “Wild pigs are a hazard, especially boars or sows with piglets.” Logan showed her how to spot their tracks and avoid them. Hana exhaled. “How far is the hut from here? I could fetch stuff.” She closed her eyes, trying to remember the view from above.

“No! Don’t leave me. You’ll get lost and we’ll both be stuck here. I can’t take much more of this.” His face crumpled in misery. “Sorry,” he whispered and covered his eyes with filthy hands.

“Hey, it’s fine. I’ll sort it out.” Hana cast around, scrabbling to her feet. She took her bearings as Logan taught her, searching for a landmark. “I’m Hana.” She forced a smile and the man withdrew his hands and looked up at her, his eyes bleary and unfocussed.

“Sorry, I’m Caleb. Thanks for coming after me.” He shifted and let out a groan of pain.

“Okay, sweetheart.” Hana knelt next to him, pushing his cap back on his head so she could take a proper look. “How old are you, Caleb?”

“Nineteen,” he said, his tone reeking of suspicion.

Hana nodded. “Okay. The stream’s just down there. I’ll find something to carry water in and a drink will make you feel better. Then I’ll use the bridle and do something with your leg.”

She returned a few minutes later, dragging the branch from a nikau palm behind her, the dead fronds fanning out like the train from a wedding dress. “Please tell me you have a knife on you?”

“Yeah.” Caleb moaned in agony as he delved into the pocket of his sweatpants and produced a knife.

“Thanks.” Hana stared at the blade and her brow narrowed, recognising the familiar object in her palm. “Where did you find this?”

“In the hut.” Caleb sighed and Hana depressed the button to extend the blade, concentrating on the immediate problem. She pared the branch away from the bulb where it once attached to the trunk.

“I’ll collect water in this,” she muttered as she wielded the knife in her sore fingers. “Although I’ll probably drop it on the way back. There’s enough supplejack near the stream to weave a fence.”

Caleb gave a watery smile. “Thanks for doing this. I didn’t realise you were on your own. I thought...it doesn’t matter.” He gulped.

“I’m not on my own,” Hana reassured him, holding the rough container up for his approval. “My husband owns this property and knows it like the back of his hand. He’ll find me. Anyway, I sent Sacha back so she’ll bring him here.”

“Ah, no!” Caleb laid his head back against the rock propping him up. “You’re a Du Rose.” He exhaled and the fight left him. “Just leave me here to die.”

“Don’t be stupid!” Hana’s voice sounded harsh. “I’m forty-eight years old and I just scaled a ridge to help you. My husband will be too busy yelling at me to do anything to you. He already thinks I’m a liability so you’ll be perfectly safe!”

“I’m sorry,” Caleb said again, his voice dull.

“I’ll get the water now. But it’s denser near the stream, so if you could keep talking, that would be helpful. I’ll follow the sound so I can find my way back.”

“What shall I say?” Caleb asked, his voice sounding hoarse as he contemplated the long awaited drink.

“Anything,” Hana called over her shoulder. “Tell me about yourself. But please keep talking. If I don’t answer, it’s because I’m fighting supplejack.”

“Okay.”

Hana crawled, walked and climbed over and around fallen trees, scratched by pockets of bush lawyer and tripped by vines. Twice she returned to the clear stream to refill the container after face planting and dropping it all. She drank straight from the stream using her cupped hands, realising how exhausted she felt, the cuts on her palm and fingers smarting against the cool water. Blood stained her jeans from calf to heel on one leg and a painful splinter bit at her left arm. Hana ignored her own injuries, heaving in a huge breath and starting again, carrying the fragile bowl with its life giving liquid back to Caleb. His voice continued in a steady monotony, guiding Hana towards him. “I left home when I was fifteen and I’ve lived all over since then. I met this chick in Auckland and lived with her parents for a while but she dumped me two months ago. They kicked me out so she could move her new dude in, so I lived on the streets. I hitched a lift to Rangiriri and walked west for a few weeks. I found this hut and stayed.”

Hana crouched next to him and handed over the container with shaking hands, her energy spent. “How do you know my husband’s name?”

Caleb sipped at the liquid through cracked lips. He winced and closed his eyes. “Geez, that’s nice. I’ve been dreaming of that water for hours.”

“Sorry it’s only half full,” Hana apologised. “I fell over twice and dropped the lot.”

“I know.” Caleb smiled and put the cup to his lips again. He drank deeply, draining the bulb. “I heard you swearing.”

“How do you know Logan?” she asked again.

Caleb wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t. I saw one of his workers six weeks ago. He was moving cattle around on the lower slopes. He told me this was Logan Du Rose’s land and if he caught me here, he’d make me disappear.”

“Nice,” Hana said with a smile.

“Will he?”

“What?” Hana watched the empty bowl sink into Caleb’s lap and dreaded the trip back to get more.

“Will he make me disappear?”

Hana tutted. “Look love, everyone’s scared of him, but he’s a decent man. Unless you’ve been stealing stuff, you’ll be fine.”

“Stealing? Like what?” Caleb’s eyes widened and he chewed his bottom lip.

“Don’t know. You tell me?”

“Like vegetables from the garden at the top of the mountain? Tomatoes and stuff and maybe a cucumber or two?”

“Ah, so you’re the naughty possum who’s been helping himself?” Hana smiled at Caleb’s confusion. “My daughter’s convinced we’ve got a pet possum who eats fruit and veggies.”

Caleb nodded. “I saw children, but I also saw a guy there once and figured it was Logan Du Rose. He looked real scary. He’ll mash me and make me disappear. I was just hungry and didn’t know that was his house but I didn’t take anything after that. I hunted down here.” His eyes lowered to his leg. “Not very successfully.”

“There’s plenty of vegetables, Caleb. I don’t think he’ll begrudge you a cucumber and a few tomatoes. He’s never killed anyone over a vegetable, I promise.” Hana knitted her brow. “You didn’t steal the gun, did you?”

Caleb shifted on the dusty ground and met her gaze. “Yes, but not from here.”

Hana sighed. “Okay. Let me take a look at your leg and then I’ll fetch more water.”

It was painful for Caleb as she sawed the elasticated bottom of his sweatpants apart with the penknife. “I’m sorry,” Hana said. “I need to cut your pants so I can get to your shin.”

“It’s fine.” He sounded breathless.

Hana tried not to comment as she exposed the break in Caleb’s shin. The bone protruded through the front of his leg, splitting the skin like a banana and sticking through for an inch, a jagged, white monstrosity. Hana swallowed bile and breathed quietly. Caleb tried to see the break and Hana’s rebuke sounded sharp. “No, stay still. You’ll make it worse.” Dried blood encrusted the wound and it looked dirty. The skin shone an unhealthy grey. Hana swallowed.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want to mess around with this too much. I don’t think washing it will help and I can’t force the bone back into place. It looks like a green-stick fracture. I’ll make a splint to help stabilise it, then get more water and wait until help arrives.”

Caleb nodded. “I don’t care anymore. Just don’t leave me; I’m sick of being on my own.”

“Okay, love.” Hana foraged in the nearby undergrowth, finding more fallen nikau branches. She lined her equipment up next to Caleb’s prone body, separating as much of the leather from the bridle as she could and putting it in a pile. “Now my husband will kill me,” she said, smiling at Caleb. He looked white and his breaths rasped in his chest. “This is his favourite horse’s best tack.”

Caleb’s vibrant blue eyes studied her movements without reply. Familiarity tweaked a memory in the back of Hana’s mind, but it was like trying to knit fog. She couldn’t lay hold of it and dismissed it for the moment. Standing, she stripped off her chequered shirt and examined it. The teenager raised a smirk. “Drinks and a show. Luxury.”

Hana snorted, her flimsy singlet covering the remnants of her dignity. “I’m trying to work out how to use this as packing between your legs. I don’t think it’s substantial enough.”

Caleb grinned. “Take it all off. At least I’ll die happy.”

Hana put her hands on her hips. “Yep, that would certainly guarantee Logan kills you.” She glanced at the singlet but the thought of being discovered in her bra by a jealous husband and a rescue team, filled her with dismay. “This will have to do,” she said, rolling it into a long sausage and placing it between Caleb’s legs with care. “Okay, now get as comfortable as you can because you might be here a while.”

The poor boy groaned. “I can’t. I can’t sit here any longer. Can’t you just help me out of here?”

“No, sweetheart. It’s too rough going. Just do as you’re told. Would you rather lie down or sit up?”

“Lie down,” Caleb said. “I can’t feel my ass.”

Hana helped him lay flat, gulping against the pitiful cries he made as he moved his damaged leg. “Sorry, love,” Hana soothed. “I know it hurts.”

“That feels better,” he rasped. “I couldn’t lie down before, in case I died. It felt too much like giving up.” His chest moved in rapid gasps of agony.

Hana squeezed his shoulder and moved to his legs. “Right,” she said. “Tell me more about where you grew up. This will hurt and I’m more frightened than you. So talk for me, please. And don’t stop.” She placed the heel of Caleb’s boot into the cup at the end of the palm. It wasn’t a good fit, but supported it. He cried out as she moved his leg and Hana cringed. “I’m so sorry. I hate causing you more pain.” She sounded tearful and Caleb waved his arm.

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” he panted. “Just do it.”

“Talk then.” Hana used the knife to break the fronds and push them up the sides of Caleb’s injured leg as packing. “You’re not helping.”

He closed his eyes, his brow knitted in pain. “I grew up in Taumarunui and I thought we were a happy family. My dad left when I was nine and everything went wrong. I loved my dad; he was awesome. He worked as a farm labourer and in the shearing season, won trophies for being the fastest guy in the King Country. He won competitions and I hoped he’d teach me but he went to work one morning and didn’t come home. When I was ten, Mum moved her new boyfriend into our house and I resented him. He was my dad’s best friend but very handy with his fists. We had a massive show down at the end of last year and I told them both I’d leave and find my dad. Her new bloke laughed and said I’d be lucky because he was dead. When I tried to leave, he beat me up.” Caleb dragged his hand over his eyes and Hana stopped for a breather.

“But he’s not dead, right?”

Caleb nodded, groaning in agony as the movement rocked his leg. He took a moment to regain control and his face adopted a sickening greyness. “My mate’s dad was a cop and I climbed out my bedroom window and went to their house. They hauled the bastard in for beating me up and asked him some questions about Dad. His answers didn’t ring true. They asked a judge to extend the custody and began investigating. My dad’s body turned up at the farm they both worked at, buried at the bottom of a gully.” Caleb snorted in disgust. “Ironic I should end up in one too.”

Hana tutted and stroked Caleb’s other thigh. “You won’t be staying here sweetheart, so don’t think that way.”

His half smile looked doubtful and Hana continued her makeshift brace around the broken leg, preparing to strap it to the good one and avoiding the torn flesh and jagged bone. “How did your mother cope with everything?” she asked, glancing up.

Caleb’s jaw tightened. “No idea. They convicted her boyfriend of murder. In court, my mother testified how the man I called ‘Dad’ wasn’t my father at all.” The teenager’s chin wobbled. “She had an affair one summer while he was shearing and got pregnant with me. I loved him so much and he wasn’t even my dad.”

Hana leaned back on her heels after placing a piece of straight branch along the outside of the broken leg. It looked like rimu and was straight enough for its purpose. “I’m sorry, love. I bet that was miserable.”

He nodded, his eyes glittering with unshed tears. “You know, don’t you? You know what that feels like?” Hope burgeoned in his voice.

Hana shrugged. “My husband does. I discovered last year that my brother wasn’t my brother; he was my cousin. My situation isn’t the same but my husband could sympathise with you. His uncle died and then Logan discovered he was really his father.” Hana blinked. “There’s no putting that right.”

Caleb nodded. “Yeah, at least I can find my real dad. I know he’s still alive.”

Hana smiled, hiding the fear in her eyes as she examined the different parts of her hoary looking creation. “Caleb, I’m ready to brace your leg with this branch and then strap your legs together. Sweetheart, it’s gonna hurt. Shout if you need to, but keep still.”

Caleb’s eyes were wide, the whites showing as Hana utilised pieces of Sacha’s dismantled bridle. He shouted as she moved his damaged limb to slip the leather underneath, sometimes whimpers and other times, great bellows of agony.

Once finished, Hana paused for breath, feeling sweat trickle between her shoulder blades. “That’s much better,” Caleb admitted, reaching for Hana’s hand as she sat next to him clutching her knees. “It’s taken the pressure off my muscles.”

“Good,” Hana said, her voice trembling. “It’s tied at your ankles and thighs. I’ve used Sacha’s reins to make a figure of eight around your feet to hold it still.”

“Wait, what?” Caleb’s voice radiated shock. The last rays of sun dropped behind the ridge and with a jolt of shock, Hana recognised the dying throes of daylight.

“I said I’ve strapped...”

“No! Not that! You said Sacha’s reins.” Caleb’s face looked greyer in the dimming light and frustration burned from his blue eyes.

Hana shook her head in confusion and shrugged. “So?”

“You made me believe Sacha was a girl! You sent her to get help and tell your husband where we were.” He laid his head back on the ground and Hana saw a tear roll down the side of his face and disappear into the parched earth. “Sacha’s a bloody horse, isn’t she?”

With nothing useful to say, Hana nodded and crouched on the ground next to the stricken boy. She rubbed his icy fingers and prayed for divine help. The bush grew quieter as night claimed it and Hana worried for her children. It was past their bedtime and she wasn’t there to kiss them good night. “Want more water?” she asked to distract herself from maudlin thoughts.

Caleb nodded. “Yes please. And Hana?”

She stopped moving away and turned to face him. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re here and for everything you’ve done. You’re a nice lady.”

“Thanks.” She lowered her eyes. “Don’t give up hope, Caleb. Logan will come.”

Caleb swallowed. “Last time I lost hope, a guy was kind to me. It took a day to walk from the motorway and he gave me a lift the rest of the way to his French restaurant. He let me eat there even though everyone stared and I hadn’t washed for weeks. That’s the nicest thing anyone did for me until you showed up. I thought I’d die here.”

Hana bit her lip and smiled. “That was Logan’s cousin, Alex. So you see, they’re not bad people. You won’t die here, Caleb, I won’t let you.” Hana smiled. “I’m a Du Rose and we don’t tolerate failure.”

She crawled through the undergrowth in the deepening twilight to the stream. Caleb didn’t talk this time and Hana took numerous wrong turns until she found him, using the last light shining from the west to point her back to where she started. There was little water left in the bottom of the disintegrating bulb and she bit back tears. “Caleb, Caleb!” Hana shook him awake and he groaned. “Drink, sweetheart.” She propped his head up against her shoulder and dribbled the water between his lips. His face looked ethereal in the dim light, a pretty bone structure with high cheekbones and a strong chin. Hana brushed his ash blonde hair back from his forehead and again, felt the stirring of a memory. Caleb gulped and choked on the liquid. Hana patted his face with the flat of her palm. “Don’t sleep, sweetheart. You need to stay awake.”

“They’re not coming,” he mumbled.

“Yes they are. Have faith.” She placed her knee under Caleb’s head to cushion him from the hard ground and help his breathing. He settled and let out a sigh.

“You got kids, Hana?”

“Yeah. Four,” she replied. “My eldest son is twenty-nine, my daughter is twenty-eight and I have two littlies, two and ten months.”

“Ah, I’ve seen them,” he sighed, exhaustion leaking through his voice. “They look happy.”

“I hope so.” Hana ran her right hand across her collar bone, trying to banish the cool air chilling her body temperature. Thoughts of her children induced sadness and a sense of loss. “Actually,” she said, injecting false joviality into her tone, “I’ve got another son who’s twenty. He’s not really mine - he’s Logan’s nephew, but he calls me Ma and there’s another boy who’s seventeen. He’s half-brothers with the twenty-year-old, but his mother died last year. I’ve kinda adopted him too. So I probably have six children altogether.” She sighed.

“You’re nice.” Caleb’s words slurred and Hana’s concern grew.

“Caleb, don’t sleep. You can’t sleep. I’m lonely, so talk to me.” Panic laced her voice and Hana shook him, causing a deep groan to emit from his chest. “Caleb!” She shook him again and there was nothing. “What have I missed?” Hana doubted herself. “Did you bang your head? I must have missed something!”

Caleb didn’t reply, laying with his head balanced on a stranger’s knee and his legs encased in the rough contraption made by a city girl. Hana felt the panic, fluttering at first but increasing in strength and volume as she realised how utterly alone she was. “Logan,” she whispered into the darkness. “Logan, help us.” Hopelessness magnified itself in her chest as a spirit of death hovered over the broken man and his saviour turned victim. Hana’s shoulders heaved at the thought of her children being told she was lost forever and her courage snapped. “LOGAN!” she screamed.

It was the biggest sound the slender woman ever made and it took everything. It emerged with disappointment, anger and fear into a shout which echoed off every ridge and rock face, rebounding around her head for more than a second. Shuddering sobs followed it as the last of Hana’s hope died and the man cradled in her lap slipped deeper into unconsciousness.

At first Hana doubted her hearing, believing the shouts were born of desperation and a feral craving for her husband. His voice sounded faint at first, calling her name over and over. She felt it ignite in her soul and the connection between them fired. Life became worth living again. “Logan!” she screamed, putting the last of her effort into his name. “Logan!”

“Hana!” His voice sounded above her head and light shone on the pitiful scene at the foot of the cliff.

“Logan!” she cried, sobs of relief punctuating incoherent words. She shook Caleb’s shoulders with cold hands, trying to rouse him and fill him with the same sense of reprieve which gripped her. “Caleb, they’re here,” she sobbed. “Caleb, please wake up.”

Male voices shouted questions as lights and confusion added to the thwack, thwack of a helicopter overhead. Hana cradled the silent stranger in her lap and wished for her bed, the feel of her husband’s strong arms and one more chance to tell her six children how much she loved them.

Chapter 3

Another Stray

Hana had time for one embrace with her husband before being loaded into the helicopter. Logan’s grey eyes looked dark in the flashlights, his body rigid with tension. “I’m sorry about Sacha’s tack,” Hana sobbed as a medic took her arm and pushed her into the helicopter, thrusting earphones over her head.

Logan clutched the remnants of an expensive bridle and said nothing, his face ashen as Hana’s green eyes searched for comfort. She cried all the way to the roof of the Waikato Hospital, still blubbering as medical staff wheeled her to the emergency rooms below. A nurse inserted a cannula into her arm, administering painkillers while she cleaned Hana’s many scrapes and cuts. The gum tree was unkind to her, sending wicked shards of bark into her flesh as she slipped down it, one on the inside of her upper arm and another through her jeans into her calf. “They were nasty,” the cheerful male nurse intoned, holding up the biggest length of wood. “Do you wanna see?”

Hana grimaced at the size of the shard which had embedded itself in her arm and leaned sideways, vomiting onto the hospital floor.

“Guess not then,” he said, sounding disappointed.

Caleb was triaged and taken straight to surgery. Doped up on morphine and other licensed goodies, Hana lay back against the rustling hospital pillows and tried not to think. The registrar sounded American, softly spoken with a southern drawl which was comforting and soporific. His stethoscope dangled from his neck adorned with childish stickers and his white coat sported a dodgy stain near the collar. He pressed a bruise on her forehead and Hana hissed. “What’s the date today?” he asked.

“Don’t you know?” Hana felt concerned for him.

“How many children do you have, Mrs Du Rose?” he persisted, leaning on his clipboard as he balanced on the bed next to her.

Hana’s mind cast back to her conversation in the bush with Caleb and it sounded ridiculous to begin at four and end up with six. She bit her lip and turned to the blonde man, the morphine making her vision blur as she remembered Wiremu. “Seven,” she replied. “I forgot one.”

The registrar jumped to his feet as the curtain whizzed past his face and Hana’s husband stood in the gap. “Can I help you?” the medic asked, intimidated by the visitor’s size. His dark wavy hair was peppered with grey at the sides and a covering of stubble graced the lower half of his face. Logan’s imposing physique towered over the registrar, bush debris staining his jeans and shirt.

“Na, I’m good.” Logan jerked his head towards Hana and the man widened his eyes.

“Mr Du Rose?” he said.

Logan nodded and stole a glance at Hana. “Yeah.”

“Your wife had several large pieces of gum tree removed from her limbs; the wounds on her arm and thigh are butterfly stitched. She’s had painkillers but seems muddled. I’m inclined to admit her for the night.” He stared at Logan with expectation and seemed wrong-footed by the silence.

Grey eyes bored into him, eyes filled with the mana of a Māori elder and rimmed by long black eyelashes. “What?” Logan Du Rose said, a hint of aggression in his voice. “She’s always muddled. I’m taking her home.”

“Always muddled?” Suspicion flashed in the medic’s eyes.

“Yep,” Logan replied. “My wife rarely knows her ass from her elbow but she looks fine. She’s had worse.”

“Had worse?” the registrar parroted, “what do you mean worse?”

“Check her medical records, bro’,” Logan said, losing patience. “It’s late, I’m tired and we’re real grateful for all you’ve done. Thanks for patching her up, but we’re leaving now.”

The doctor shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” Logan replied. His tired eyes gleamed with challenge in the dim night lights on the ward.

The registrar swallowed and exited the cubicle, glancing over his shoulder and suspecting he had little say in the matter.

“Logan?” Hana said, her vision reducing her gorgeous husband to a dark, swirling shape. “I can’t remember how many children I have. This is terrible!”

“Hey, babe. Shhhhh.” In two strides Logan Du Rose clutched his wife, crushing her face into his muscular chest and kissing her hair. He smelled of horses and sweat, his white tee shirt stained and ripped and his hair dusty. “I was so worried about you,” he breathed into her hair. “When you’re feeling better, I’m gonna kill you, bloody wahine!”

Logan kissed Hana’s dry lips, holding the sides of her scabbed cheeks and pressing his forehead into hers. “Don’t you ever do that to me again!” he rebuked, his voice a husky growl. “Or I swear, I’ll lock you up in the house for good.”

“He was hurt real bad,” Hana wept, the tears running through the antiseptic and the cuts on her face and chin. “I couldn’t stop him going to sleep.”

“The doctors are asking about him, Hana. Who the hell is he?”

Hana gulped. “I know this will sound stupid, but he needs us. He needs a family as much as Tama and Ryan did. He’ll come good, I promise. When he’s fixed, can he live at the hotel for a while, just until he’s recovered?”

Logan pulled back and shook his head, studying his wife with the familiar Du Rose grey glare. He ran his thumb under her red rimmed eyes and kissed the end of her nose. “Babe, we’ve got more strays than a bloody dogs’ home.”

“Not really,” Hana sniffed, wiping her nose on Logan’s ruined tee shirt. “You already had Tama before we met and Ryan just turned up. But you gave David a home and...Bobby.” She gulped, thinking of the blonde stockman who saved her baby son’s life. He proved his loyalty to the Du Roses that day.

“Is that why you told the doctor you had seven kids?” Logan lifted Hana’s sore chin with his index finger. A tiny smirk lifted the left side of his lips into a lopsided smile. “I wondered if you banged your head, or had stuff you needed to confess.” His fingers worked their way around to her back, feeling the softness of her skin through the gaps in the hospital gown. His pupils dilated. He kissed the side of Hana’s neck. “Who is this guy, Hana? What do you know about him? He’s been living at the hut in Reuben’s Gully. Toby says he told him to move on weeks ago. We don’t owe him anything.”

“Please let him stay, Logan?” Hana implored with her wide green eyes and felt her husband relent. He traced the line of her bare spine with his index finger, chasing away the demons of dread which assailed him earlier. Grounding himself in her strong English resolve, his heart celebrated her survival with a partial capitulation.

“We’ll talk about it later!” he conceded. “But right now you need to get it together so I can break you out of here.”

The doctor returned with his clipboard and found Hana far more communicative. “His name’s Caleb,” Hana said. “Caleb Du Rose.” She saw Logan shake his head in a slight movement and bit her lip. “He lives at my husband’s hotel in the mountains with us. He went out pig hunting and I heard the gunshots. He was at the bottom of a ridge and I climbed down.”

“Did you make the splint and strap his leg?” the doctor asked, raising his eyebrows in approval. Hana nodded, her face and neck blushing in embarrassment. She waited for the medical critique and dismissal of her work. “That was a pretty awesome job, ma’am,” he acceded and Hana blushed more.

“Oh,” she said, her eyes widening. “Please can we have the leather straps back?”

The doctor eyed her in confusion. “Er, I don’t know. I think we got them off without cutting them. What are they from?”

Hana gulped. “I dismantled the horse’s bridle,” she said. “There’s also a girth, an expensive girth.” She couldn’t look at her husband’s face. “We’d like it all back, if possible.”

The doctor left the cubicle and Logan leaned forward in the visitor’s chair, sighing and pressing his fingers to his temples. Hana felt contrite. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Sorry for not waiting and for ruining Sacha’s bridle. I’m sorry for everything.”

“Hey, it’s fine.” Logan shifted to the bed, wedging his hip into the small space next to Hana and slipping his arm around her shoulders. She winced as it constricted the wound under her arm. “Nothing matters, apart from getting you back safely.”

“Did you find Sacha’s saddle?” Hana exhaled, thinking of the combined cost of the handmade tack and the personalised saddle with its ornate stitching.

“Yep. Toby took it back for me. The chopper left and I ran up to the house and jumped in the ute. I think I broke a land speed record or two on the expressway here.”

“Why didn’t they take us to Auckland?” Hana asked, her fate already inexorably linked to Caleb’s.

“Some road accident on the North Shore. They were busy so routed you here.”

“Sorry,” Hana said again. “You must feel shattered.”

“Stop apologising, babe. Leslie and my dad are looking after Phoe and Mac. Leslie was worried sick. Dad helped us search and found those ribbon things you hung on the trees. Very clever.” Logan kissed her temple. “Sacha arrived in the stable yard in a right mess, sweating and rearing. She terrified that lad, Rawhiti.” Logan sniggered. “He nearly crapped himself. David raised the alarm on the radio so I was already on my way up to him on the quad bike and must have missed Sacha by minutes. David didn’t see where you went so we started in the wrong direction. If Rawhiti hadn’t radioed for help, we might not have found you until much later. David heard the call and remembered you rode off on Sacha and I went to the stables to get her.”

“How did she make you understand?” Hana asked, her voice sounding sleepy. “Was it like Lassie? Did she do hoof movements and neighs which sounded like words?”

“No! She heard the quad coming, jumped the gate into the paddock and charged like a wounded bull. Then she ran off up the mountain. I trusted her and followed. Dad rode up on Methuselah and chased her into the bush on horseback. Some of us had to walk!” Logan chastised his wife with another kiss to the temple.

“There doesn’t seem to be a hospital number for a Caleb Du Rose.” The doctor whisked the curtain back and stood in the gap, tapping his clipboard with the pen.

Logan gave a little sniff of annoyance and Hana knew he directed it at her. He could have foretold the sequence of events like a fortune teller with a crystal ball. She floundered and he spoke for her. “Yeah, it’s not his birth name. He’s been with us a while though. It’s all legit and he’ll sort it when he wakes up.” Logan gave one of his winning smiles and the doctor relaxed.

“Awesome. Well, you can go home now, Mrs Du Rose. Your discharge notice is at the front desk.”

Hana gaped. “Someone took my clothes; what will I wear?” She looked down at her cut and bruised body and panicked at the vision of herself streaking naked across the multi storey car park in the middle of the night. Logan placed a reassuring hand over hers.

“Find her clothes,” he said to the doctor, his authority overpowering in the small space. The man stalked away and Logan heaved a sigh. “Jerk!” he stated. “How did he imagine you’d walk out of here?”

Hana touched her face, an indicator of anxiety. The myriad cuts on her palm smarted and she put it down again. A nurse appeared with a brown paper bag containing Hana’s filthy jeans, singlet, bra and socks, resting on her equally dirty cowboy boots. She shoved it on the chair and left without speaking. “Oh, nice,” Hana commented, peering into the bag. “Stinky.”

Logan helped his wife dress, managing to turn every clasp and button into foreplay without trying to. Hana yearned to lose herself in the big bed at home with him and forget about her disastrous afternoon. She winced as he pushed her arm into the sleeve and caught the white packing over her wound. “Sorry, babe,” he said, looking chagrined.

“It’s okay.” Hana squeezed her eyes shut in pain. “I’m not sure if it’s my ass or my elbow. Everything hurts.”

Logan smirked. “Neither. But if you don’t get a move on, they’ll keep you here.”

“That’s your excuse for dissing your wife?” Hana said, sounding scandalised.

Logan shrugged. “Want me to get that doctor back and tell him I lied? I’d hate to take you out of their care if you’re concussed.”

Hana screwed her face up, resembling a stubborn Phoenix and drawing a snort from her husband. She allowed him to slide her knickers over her legs without disturbing the wound, tantalised by his dark fingers against her creamy skin. “You’re doing that on purpose,” she hissed as he smoothed the cotton over her bare buttocks.

“You can go out naked if you want,” he whispered back. Hana gulped as her brain returned to the horrible scenario and she behaved while he encased her breasts in her bra and slipped the dirty shirt over her head.

At the desk, Hana picked up her discharge papers, fingering the accident report in her sore hands. The doctor dismissed her with a smile. “How’s Caleb?” Hana asked. “Is he out of surgery?”

“Not yet. It was a bad break.”