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    Journey's End on the Western Plains: Homecomings Series, #3
    Journey's End on the Western Plains: Homecomings Series, #3
    Journey's End on the Western Plains: Homecomings Series, #3
    Ebook81 pages1 hour

    Journey's End on the Western Plains: Homecomings Series, #3

    By Isabella Hargreaves

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    About this ebook

    'Coming home can be harder than leaving.'
    Outback Australia, 1924: Matron Marion Henderson of Idavale Private Hospital wants romance in her life and promises she'll go out with the first man who asks. That man is Bill Carter, ex-pastoralist, ex-soldier, wanderer, whose guilt about leaving home for war has kept him from returning ever since. Marion wants someone reliable with whom to share her life, but Bill's behaviour rekindles Marion's memories of her war-damaged first husband.
    Can they face their ghosts and create a future together?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherIsabella Hargreaves
    Release dateNov 30, 2015
    ISBN9780994435019
    Journey's End on the Western Plains: Homecomings Series, #3
    Author

    Isabella Hargreaves

    Isabella Hargreaves is an award-winning historical romance author. She writes Romance through the Ages, with a story to tell from the Regency era to Ancient Britain and to 1920s Australia. She loves writing about strong heroines finding the men to match them. She is a winner of the Romance Writers of Australia Romantic Book of the Year 2022 (novella category), the Romance Writers of New Zealand Koru Award 2018 (novella category) and the Romance Writers of Australia 'Little Gems' short story competition 2018, and a finalist in a number of other awards. Isabella lives in Brisbane, Australia, where she works as an historian and is butler to three moggies. When she's not reading and writing, Isabella loves horse-riding and scenic walks. She dreams of an around-the-world trip to indulge these passions. For more information about Isabella Hargreaves' books, and to sign up for email advice about her next release, go to: www.isabellahargreaves.com Follow on: Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/isabella-hargreaves Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7457181.Isabella_Hargreaves Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/IsabellaHargreavesBooks

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      Book preview

      Journey's End on the Western Plains - Isabella Hargreaves

      Copyright © Isabella Hargreaves 2015

      First Published 2015

      ISBN  978-0-9944350-1-9

      Except for use in any review, no part of this book may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in whole or in part, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher.

      This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

      This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organisations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

      Find out more about the author and upcoming books online at:

      http://www.isabellahargreaves.com

      One

      Idavale, western plains, Queensland, Australia, 1924

      Bill Carter, impatient, stomach churning, sat in the battered cab of Old Dave Maundrel’s mail truck, waiting for it to roll to a halt in front of the Idavale Hotel.

      Here you go, Idavale. End of my run. The grey-haired driver put the vehicle into neutral, pulled on the brake, cut the engine and slid out of the cabin.

      Bill followed him, his leg stiff from the long ride. A cloud of red dust, kicked up from the road, sauntered down to earth behind them.

      Where’re you off to now? Dave asked.

      I’m staying with Jack Edgarson out at Paradise Lagoon. You don’t go that way, do you?

      Nah. Paradise Lagoon folk usually come in for their mail, but someone’s sure to be heading out there. Just ask around in the pub.

      Thanks, I’ll do that.

      In the meantime, come and have a drink with me, Dave said. I owe you one for helping fix the old girl’s motor when she conked out. Didn’t know you were a handy mechanic. Glad you were with me.

      Bill shook his head. Thanks, Dave, but I’ve got something to do first. He gestured up the road.

      Dave nodded and shook Bill’s hand.

      Bill watched the bandy-legged mailman walk into the public bar, then picked up his bag and walked into the hotel’s foyer. It had been a long journey from Wattle Creek Station and he was mighty thirsty, but first things first. Five years was far too long already. He’d promised himself he would do this and there could be no more excuses.

      Once in the cool dark hotel, he pushed his hat back off his forehead. The proprietress, plump and chatty, greeted him with enthusiasm. Bill asked after someone bound for Paradise Lagoon.

      Don’t go out there yet, she said. Someone’s sure to come in to the dance tonight. I’ll ask around for you.

      Never mind, said Bill, not wanting to be delayed. I can find Jack if he comes in. He asked for details about the dance, so he knew when to go over to the hall to search for his friend. If he wasn’t there, he’d take a room in the hotel and go out to Paradise Lagoon tomorrow.

      In the meantime, he had that long overdue appointment. Bill hitched his duffle bag over his shoulder and strode out of the hotel, along the main street in the direction he had pointed out to Dave.

      Idavale. It looked much the same—a ribbon of timber shops flanking a wide dusty road. The single-storey buildings cast long shadows across the main street in the late afternoon sun. He hadn’t been here for almost nine years. Back then, he’d ridden down from the family property, Isa Downs, two hundred miles to the north, to catch a train to the coast to join the army.

      The war had seemed a reason to leave home and an opportunity to see something of the world, of places in England and Scotland his mother had spoken about with fondness. How else could he have got there?

      Bill trudged past Idavale’s new memorial hall, its railway station and across the timber bridge spanning the brown river, to the high ground beyond.

      Weeping acacia trees marked the entrance to his destination, but he barely noticed their pungent odour. Bill let himself into the cemetery. The hinges of the iron gate broke the silence with their screech.

      Before him, graves marched in straight lines across the brown grass. He walked along the rows, scanning each headstone. It took a few minutes to find the one he wanted.

      His mother.

      Pain gripped his chest with two massive hands and squeezed. He’d caused this. They’d been such a close family and his decision had destroyed that forever.

      Images of her flickered through his memory like celluloid film, each intensifying his remorse. He fell to his knees before the weathered headstone that proclaimed her early death in 1918. His mother—gentle and strong. Petite in life, Isabel Carter seemed insignificant in death. Tears tracked down his weathered cheeks. He dashed them off with the back of his calloused hand.

      Someone hereabouts had nursed her almost to recovery before she suddenly had another heart attack and died. Only Bill’s brother, Robert, who had brought her down to catch the train before her first heart attack, had been present for her burial.

      A tidal wave of regret crashed over Bill. A ragged sob burst from him, followed by another and another, hunching his aching body over the grave, leaving only emptiness.

      How long he knelt there he didn’t know.

      As he got up from his knees, he stumbled. He snatched his battered hat from the ground, wiped the tears from his face hand and slapped on the hat.

      Bill hefted his bag and

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