Master Of Marshlands

Chapter one

The sound of hoofs thudding softly on the new spring grass reached Lynn's ears. She turned slowly to face the man who cantered across the field towards her. He reined the large chestnut gelding, dismounted and tethered it to the nearly boundary fence, then strode closer to stare at her with unconcealed interest. His dark grey eyes lingered momentarily on the blue jeans that clung to her slim hips, and on the green windcheater jacket that protected her from the sharp southerly breeze. They took in details of her flaming red hair, her clear complexion and the unflinching gaze of her green eyes.

'Are you looking for somebody?'he queried politely, his deep voice resonant.
The question startled her into wariness. 'I was hoping to see Stan,'she said, making it an excuse for her presence. Was this the owner of the neighboring Marshlands property?she wondered.
Dark brows arched as his next words confirmed the fact. 'You're referring to Stan Bennett my manager?'
She nodded, noticing the athletic form of his tall muscular figure.
He regarded her narrowly. 'Are you in the habit of meeting him here, near the boundary fence or perhaps more privately, over there?' He nodded towards a clump of dark pines which sheltered a hay barn.
She allowed the hint of secrecy to pass over her head as she admitted coolly, 'It wouldn't be the first time I've spoken to Stan at the boundary fence'.
'Well you can forget it for today because he's unlikely to loom over the horizon. He's taking an extended trip overseas. At the moment he's in Australia'. He paused then added thoughtfully, 'If you're in the habit of meeting him its a wonder you didn't know that small fact. My cousin is not usually secretive'.

'I did not say I'm in the habit of meeting him,' she flashed, making an effort to hide her disappointment.  Without Stan it would be more difficult to learn about his small son.

The man continued to regard her closely, his lids slightly narrowed. 'Have we meet before?'
'You look vaguely familiar to me. I feel sure I've seen that mass of red hair in some other place. Its like a flambeau'.

She laughed, blushing away the comment. 'To me its more like a dish of mashed carrots, especially when its so unruly'. She raised a hand to smooth it against the wind.

'I prefer a flambeau. I almost saw sparks drop on the grass. And the smile you flashed just now its also struck a familiar chord'. He looked at her expectantly. 'You're sure you've no recollection?'
'Of meeting you? None whatsoever'. How could she forget meeting a man with such charisma, or with a face as handsome as this one? His dark brown hair was well groomed. His nose was straight, his mouth well formed, the touch of sensuousness only adding to its appeal. His complexion was tanned, the tiny white lines at the corners of his eyes indicating squinting against the sun. He's an outdoor man, she though, then said, 'I suppose you're Mr Marshall?'
'That's right. And you....? I presume you're from around these parts?' The dark brows arched again.
'No. I live in Wellington'.
'Ah a city girl'. He ended on a long drawn breathe as his mouth twisted slightly.

She caught the note of disparagement in his voice.
'You're allergic to a city girl, Mr Marshall?'
'I avoid them as much as possible'. The words came coolly.
She felt nettled, but kept her voice casual. 'May I ask why?'
'They can be bad medicine for country men'.

She looked at him without speaking, deciding that silence would be the wiser policy. It was possible he had the breakup between Stan and Delpline in mind, and at this early stage of her inquiry about their small son she hah no wish to discuss them. What she learned about young Tony must come from her own observation, if this could be achieved.

His next words held a reprimand. 'I suppose being a product of the big smoke and bright lights you imagine you climb fences and wander where you please in the wide and open spaces, especially if there are mushrooms in the fields'.

'Thank you for hinting that I look thoroughly stupid. I happen to know that mushrooms appear in the autumn rather than in spring'.

'And being a city girl you probably couldn't care less about the fact that you're trespassing,' he pursed pointedly.

The accusation started her. 'Trespassing? Yes---- I suppose I am, but after all I've ......' She bit off her words, stopping herself from saying she'd walked along this track towards the managers house many times. It would reveal that she knew Delphine, and, while she saw no tangible reason for keeping the fact a secret, intuition warned her to hold the knowledge from this man at least until she knew him a little better, although at the moment this seemed to be an unlikely prospect.

His eyes held curiosity as they regarded her closely.
'Yes? You were about to say that after all you've ......what?'

She thought quickly then gave a slight shrug. 'Well after all I've only come up the zigzag from Frog Hollow. Surely a neighbor, even a temporary one, is permitted to admire the view from your plateau without being accused of trespassing?'

She turned away from him to state westwards where the small township of Waipawa sprawled from the river banks towards higher ground. Beyond it farmlands stretched towards the long range of Ruahine mountains which lay at a distance of about tweenty-five miles, their ridges now windswept and clear of winter snow, although their slopes were still streaked and patched with white depths that filled the gullies.

'You're staying with old Max Walker?'he asked.

'Maxwell Walker is my grandfather. I inherited this ----- this awful red hair from him'.