"Shit," Cassidy breathed. "Well, I'm glad you didn't take no for an answer."
"Told you I had shit going on," I said to Charlie.
She gave me a crooked smile and squeezed my hand. "We're a good pair, aren't we?"
I saw a depth in her eyes I couldn't quite name. Understanding, maybe. Or a connection beyond words. "I don't know if the SAS will take me back. I don't know if I care."
Declan looked at the will again, then at me. "Maybe Charlie's right. Maybe this is Dad's way of making it right."
"Giving me a ranch doesn't make it right."
"We'll figure it out," Cassidy said. "All of it. The jewels, the body, Dad. We'll figure it out together."
I nodded and hoped she was right.
But now we had a hell of a lot more problems than we did when I'd arrived at Koolaroo.
Chapter 31
Mitch
* * *
The moon hung low over Koolaroo, casting silver light across the paddocks as I guided Zeus toward the original lodge I used to call home. Charlie's arms were wrapped tightly around my waist, her chest pressed against my back. Every now and then, she'd lean in closer, and I'd feel her breath on my neck.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"You'll see."
At the base of Edith's Hill, named for my mother back when she’d still given a damn, I glanced toward the top. The old Branson lodge came into view, a weathered, low-set building that had stood on this land for a hundred and thirty years.
I hadn't been inside in over a decade. I couldn’t believe I was here now. I never thought I'd be back.
"Hold on," I said.
Charlie's arms tightened around me, and I clicked my tongue. Zeus charged up the hill, as if he, too, knew he was going home. Alongside the verandah railing, I pulled him to a stop and dismounted. When I helped Charlie down, her hands lingered on my lower back, feeling damn fine, and I wanted to turn around and pull her against me. But I didn't. Not yet.
"This is your place?" she asked.
"Was. Will be again, I guess. As long as Frank doesn't turn up."
I lifted the pack off Zeus’s back that Cassidy had packed for me, and a wave of guilt barreled through me. My sister was always looking out for me, and I'd left her behind. Left her and Declan and Kayden with a father I’d known was dangerous. I shouldn't have abandoned them like that. I made a silent promise right then that I wouldn't leave again, not until I knew my siblings were safe. Then again, maybe it was time to call this place home again.
At the front door, I turned on the flashlight Cassidy had supplied and braced for Charlie's reaction as the door groaned open. I panned the light into the room. Inside wasn't exactly as I'd left it. The furniture had been covered in plastic sheets—Cassidy's doing, no doubt. She'd always been convinced I'd come back one day. Cobwebs strung between the beams, and the air was thick and stale. But it somehow still felt like home.
Charlie stepped inside, her eyes wide as she took it all in. "Wow, this is fabulous."
Just inside the front door, exactly where I'd left it, was the kerosene lamp I'd used whenever the electricity went dodgy. I pulled my lighter from my pocket and lit the wick.
"Ahh, the trusty lighter saves us again," Charlie said.
I grinned as the warm glow spread across the room, casting golden light that danced along the walls. She looked even more beautiful in this light, if that was even possible.
I hung the lantern on the hook in the massive timber beam that spanned the length of the house. Every time I saw that piece of timber, I wondered how the hell my ancestors had gotten it up there.
"Welcome to the first Branson lodge," I said, spreading my arms wide. "My great-great-grandfather, Augustus Frank Branson, moved from Yorkshire, England, in 1871. In 1889, he drove two hundred head of cattle across drought-ravaged land and finally found a constant water source here. That's when he laid claim to Koolaroo. He married Eleanor Rose MacLeod, and they built this lodge with their own hands, had six kids, and so began the Koolaroo legacy."
“Wow, that’s amazing.” Charlie moved deeper into the room, running her fingers along the old timber dining table that I’d made myself, tracing the grain like it was something precious. "There's so much history here."