LITMIR.BIZ

       Prologue

       Queensland, Australia—August 1996

      TEAGUE QUINN STRETCHED his arms over his head and closed his eyes against the sun, the warm rays heating the big rock beneath him. The wind rustled in the dry brush. The sounds of the outback were so familiar they were almost like music to him.

      He’d managed to escape the house before anyone noticed he was gone, saddling his horse and riding out in a cloud of dust, the shoe box tucked under his arm. When he wasn’t working the stock with his father and brothers, he was tending to some other job his mother had conjured out of thin air. He wondered what it might be like to live a normal life, in a grand house in Brisbane, where daily chores didn’t exist.

      There’d be girls and parties and school and sports—all the things fourteen-year-old boys were supposed to enjoy. Teague sighed. Most boys his age didn’t like school, but real classrooms with real teachers, chemistry and biology and physics and math, these were things he’d never experienced.

      Instead, Teague was stuck on a cattle station in Queensland, with his parents, his two brothers and a rowdy bunch of jackaroos. Classes took place at the kitchen table, him and his brothers gathered around the radio listening to School of the Air. The closest town, Bilbarra, had a library and a small school, but that was a two-hour drive, much too far to make it practical day to day. Some of the kids on the more profitable stations were sent away to boarding school, but Kerry Creek wasn’t exactly swimming in cash. Though the Quinn family wasn’t poor, they weren’t in the big bickies, either.

      Teague heard the sound of hoofbeats and pushed up on his elbows, scanning the approach to the big rock and cursing to himself. Would he ever be able to get away from his brothers, or would they be following him around the rest of his life?

      When he didn’t see a rider coming from the direction of the homestead, he glanced over his shoulder and watched as a horse galloped full bore from the opposite direction, its rider hunched low in the saddle. Scrambling to his feet, Teague stood on the rock, ready to defend his territory against the interloper.

      The boy drew his horse to a stop, the animal breathing heavily. From beneath the brim of a battered stockman’s hat, he stared at Teague, a grim expression on his face. He wasn’t very big, Teague mused, sizing up his chances if it came down to a fistfight.

      But then suddenly, the boy smiled. “Did I scare you?” In one smooth motion, he brushed his hat from his head and a tumble of wavy blond hair revealed not a boy, but a girl. His breath caught in his throat as he stared into her pale blue eyes. Teague swallowed hard. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

      “I scared the piss out of you, didn’t I? You should see your face. You’re as pale as a ghost.”

      Teague scowled, embarrassed that she’d noticed his reaction. “Nick off. I wasn’t scared. Why would I be scared of a mite like you? You couldn’t knock the skin off a rice pudding.”

      She slid off her horse. “Oh, yeah. Well, you’re so stupid, you couldn’t tell your arse from a hole in the ground.”

      Teague opened his mouth, shocked to hear that kind of language from a girl. But then, he really had no experience talking to girls. With no sisters, he wasn’t sure how girls were supposed to talk. On the telly, they always seemed to act so proper and prissy. This girl was acting more like his brothers.

      She hitched her hands on her waist and stared up at him. “Well, are you going to give me a hand up or are you going to be mingy about the view?”

      Teague studied her for a long moment. There wasn’t much to fear from her. She was at least a head shorter than him and a few stone lighter. Though, in a verbal sparring match, she’d probably slice him into dinner for the dingoes. He reluctantly held out his hand and pulled her up beside him.

      She scrambled to her feet and took a good look around. A frown wrinkled her brow, then she plopped down and sighed deeply.

      “You don’t

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