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I found John Newman in the shed, watching a vet treat an unwell cow. The poor creature looked up at me with a doleful look, and I experienced a twist of guilt after that steak sandwich I’d gobbled down on my way back to Bridesmere.

Despite looking much older, the dairy farmer would have been around my father’s age. Like most people who worked the land, they were up at the crack of dawn. My privileged existence meant that I was often up until dawn but never up at dawn—unless pressed against Mirabel’s voluptuous body. The thought of her produced a silent sigh.

I needed a repeat performance or two. Or more. How could I get her to forgive me?

That’s why you’re here staring at that poor cow.

He wiped his hands on a rag, and I followed him outside the barn.

“Thanks for seeing me. I’m sorry to have caught you during a bad time.”

He rubbed his neck. “Yeah. That’s the third cow this week.”

I nodded sympathetically. “Can it be saved?”

He shrugged. “Not sure.”

“Look, um… I’m sorry about the order. I… we…” Coming unprepared, I felt nervous all of a sudden. I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. “I have a proposition for you.”

Declan liked my idea of offering the organic farm contract to the Newmans, which came as a great relief. The deal was that they’d end up with a few farmhands who happened to have records. A small price, I thought.

“Anyway, there’s an acre of land on offer. There’ll be a house built for you and your family.”

His eyes slowly looked up from the ground. In his tired eyes, I caught a spark of interest.

I looked over his shoulder at their old mudbrick house. While it boasted a certain rustic charm, I imagined it being draughty and damp. I made a mental note to ensure their new home enjoyed all the comforts of modern living.

“The same rent?” he asked.

“Rent-free for the first year while you settle and find your feet.”

His brows moved ever so slightly. “Where?”

“On the northside of Chatting Wood.”

“Is that by that boot camp?”

I nodded. “There are a couple of stipulations.”

“Them being?”

“Organic farming. Best practice. The land’s been cleared. No hazardous topsoil. It has a certificate.”

He nodded slowly. “Jenkins is getting good money on his milk production from going organic. I just wouldn’t know where to start.”

“I will talk to my brother about introducing you to an expert.”

“And the other condition?” he asked in a deep guttural tone.

I took a moment to consider my words. “That land had been earmarked for an organic farm all along. And when this opportunity came up…”

“You mean when you decided to boot us out?” He stared me square in the face.

I smiled weakly. “My brother’s vision for the farm was that some of the lads from the boot camp work as farmhands.”

“Work with drug addicts and troublemakers? I don’t think so.” He removed a pouch of tobacco and rolled himself a cigarette.

He lit it up, and as the smoke billowed towards me, I almost asked for one.

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