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Western Australia, 1953

DON’T go there tonight Nothin’ but trouble

As Dev passed the aboriginal elder, he heard the warning, e the old man knew he understood A wiseBut he wanted a beer A bloody galah he ht be, but hell, he’d been in the Outbackwelcome bitter wetness to his throat A s away on the bar surface His craving for itthe Holy Grail nofancy cups

He needed the coht After that, it would start to grate on his nerves, rouse oldto descend into the embrace of humanity, but in short order he had to push off from that and let the other, darker part of him sink back into the vast emptiness of the harsh lands he called hoer he stayed around it

So, after his beer and some idle talk, he’d pay his tithe for the co of his throat and head back out

Unless there was a woman

He snorted at himself Not only were unmarried women few and far between out here, no decent woman put a foot inside a bar

An indecent one would be snapped up in a heartbeat by any bloke willing to shell out his last quid for her

It didn’tin hu that carried with it a hell of a hangover when he had to face hinore the burning need festering in his balls Hishim into all sorts of unlikely fantasies for the past couple weeks He’d risked fatally dehydrating hiiven in to the poor substitute of his hand He ive it away, take the Ghan down to Adelaide and endure the mobs of people and noise, where women for hire were more plentiful

Maybe it would be better that way More iine Tina looking down at hihts of a heaven he was never going to see

Walling that thought off, he focused on an Adelaide whore He’d want a soft and passably pretty sheila, one who’d smell clean

Who’d let hi around to stroke his hair, curl in front of him so he could fit hi to her sleep, if he wore her out Which, if he did her proper, would be the case

Uncos were far fro, he tuned back in to his i of vehicles, mostly utes, were parked in front of Joe and Elle’s place, a pub in the usual style Two stories, the upper level for the hotel, the lower for the bar A veranda that wrapped around the top level was for those who often preferred it to the stuffy roos A couple blokes sat out on it now, behind the lacy wrought iron railing, trying to catch the breeze

Aside fro Rovers, one being worked over by an agitated, grease-stained driver and another man City folk by their appearance, but they wore appropriate clothes for the bush and appeared to be carrying the right supplies needed when traveling out here That was a relief Less chance the whole bloody toould have to mobilize to rescue them from some foolishness Lord knows, the bush could surprise even the most experienced man It could chew up tourists and spit theoes on a helpless sheep

He took his swag into the bar with hiot to thinking you didn’t need your pack if you left it sitting unattended However, as he stepped into the bar, he forgot he was even carrying it Hell, if asked, he doubted he could have told anyone his name

While no respectable woman went into a bar, he wasn’t about to cast any stones at the one standing at the antiquated jukebox Joe prized Except for her, it was the only shiny thing in the dusty place

Her back was to hiravated camel’s But she had blond hair, tied in a tail that curled and waved across the narrow slope of her back like peaceful surf, touched by the gold of sundown The track of it drew his gaze to the nip of her waist and down Her arse alone would be worth overlooking a homely face, for the flare of her hips ell outlined in a pair of trim brown jodhpurs

“Well, look what the cat’s dragged in Going to barter those eggs for a beer, Dev?” In order to focus on Elle, Dev had to pull his attention away Hein Elle’s voice got his radar going

Eleanor Waters was the exception to the decent-woman-in-a-bar rule, first because she was the licensee, with her husband, Joe