Tilly moved her fingers counting the months. ‘September last year, I think. When the tourists were still about anyway. Which is why they couldn’t work out who could’ve set the trap. Too many people camping and coming and going, and it’s a big place. There are just three rangers after all, so there’s only so much they can patrol what with the tours and the talks . . . Education is part of Binboona’s remit,’ she explained conscientiously. ‘But honestly, some people! They’d cut down the last living tree if you let them, and kill the last creature if it brought in money.’

‘So you’re a conservationist too?’ he said with a faint smile.

Realising that her voice had risen, Tilly flushed. ‘I suppose I am,’ she said stiffly. ‘Look, I have to get on. I’ll show you your room, shall I, and leave you to settle in and look around? Dinner’s around six-thirty if the others are back then, later if not. I expect you carry your own, but there are reference books on the local flora and fauna in the lounge, and a very good map of the property on the wall in Sophie’s office. It shows all the roads, and where both the river crossings are. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you want to check it out.’

‘Thanks, I will.’ Connor stood, pulling his chair in and picking up the hat he’d removed. ‘I mostly camp on the job, so it’s very good of you to take me in. I’ll try not to make too much extra work for you.’

‘That’s all right. It’s what I’m here for.’

‘And,’ he said, ‘I’m all for conservation too. You people do a great job. I’m sorry if I sounded flippant just then.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Not everybody thinks it’s important, so I guess we get a bit defensive.’ She smiled at him, collecting up the cups, and turning to the sink as he left.

Chapter Four

Within days of his arrival Connor was fitting easily into their little group, mixing companionably with the men and spending time studying the office map, learning the camp site and its approaches, and the various roads across the property. Some were the wet-weather tracks that never saw the old-fashioned grader the rangers had inherited from when Binboona had been a station.

‘Emergency use only, them,’ Matt told him. He was the one who drove the antiquated grader. ‘They follow the high ground and grading ’em would turn them into creek beds. Best left be. That way if you’ve gotta, you just might get a four-wheel drive through the bog.’

‘Do you often have to?’ Connor, tracing the line on the sheet, lifted an enquiring brow.