Luke’s impatience had him and Connor out at the airstrip twenty minutes before the first faint note of the plane’s engine was heard. A few moments later it was overridden by the rumble of a vehicle pulling up before the homestead. Tilly, stepping out onto the verandah, was surprised to see Don Wellaway coming up the steps.

‘Don – I thought you’d be long gone.’

‘Well I would’ve been’—he looked both harassed and irritated—‘only the young fellow that was travelling with us seems to have vanished. I can’t wait any longer, so I thought I’d better leave word. God knows where he’s got to! I’d’ve thought that giving a lift to someone means they have an obliga—’

‘Wait.’ Tilly shook her head. ‘I’m not following. I thought there was just you and Jane?’

‘Yes, yes – but he was there at Alloway. The roadhouse back down the track? A uni kid relying on hitching to get around. We gave him a ride in and the arrangement was he’d come back out with us. I hitched often enough myself when I was young, so I like to help . . . He had his own camp and gear, so I didn’t see much of him, but he seems to have gone. Maybe somebody offered him a ride out? If so, you’d have thought he’d have had the decency to let me know. As it is, I’ve wasted half the morning hunting for him.’

Tilly caught her breath, overcome with sudden certainty. ‘What did he look like? Was he sort of skinny, with longish fair hair? Did he wear a baseball cap?’

‘You’ve seen him then?’

‘If it’s him, he left yesterday with another traveller.’

‘Well, the bugger might’ve told me.’ Don said, his irritation plain. ‘I could be a hundred kay down the road by now.’ He turned back to his vehicle, calling over his shoulder, ‘Thanks, er, Tilly. You were great, you all were. Being here, getting the doctor for Jane. Tell the others too, won’t you? I won’t forget.’ He slammed the cab door on the promise.

‘That’s all right. We’re happy to help.’ Tilly lifted her hand and stood, watching in a state of wild surmise as the dust shrouded his departing vehicle.

Chapter Eleven

At ten o’clock Matt turned up for morning smoko, bringing with him the sharp reek of diesel on his clothes.

‘Where’s the freeloader then?’ he asked, stirring his mug of tea.

‘What?’ Tilly eyed him in surprise. ‘Do you mean Connor? Why would you call him that?’

‘Well, ain’t he?’ His glance slid off hers in his habitual fashion. ‘Swanning round the place. Hardly call what he does work, would you? Poking his nose in where it ain’t wanted. Butter wouldn’t melt – I seen him charmin’ you, Tilly.’