As the weeks passed into months Frank was proved right. She did not return. He gathered from an overheard conversation between his mother and Mrs Smith that she had returned to school in the city. He breathed a sigh of relief and put her out of his thoughts, hopefully she didn't visit often. He slipped back into his own quiet routine looking on as the world and all its glorious opportunities passed him by. As time went on and the land moved with the seasons, he saw Drogheda at its most beautiful and its most vicious. Part of him could not deny its majesty but more than ever he was desperate to go on hating it, not to let it soften him. He knew one day soon he was going to break and nothing would be the same and although that scared him he was far more terrified of what he believed might become of him if he didn't snap; that he would cease to be real to himself and just fall in line, living and never feeling, all the world before him but never being able to own it. Right now the only thing that told him he was alive was his hatred. And the only thing keeping him in precarious balance was Mum, but whatever he did he could not make her happy as he wanted, he wouldn't be able to free her. Rosina drifted into his mind on the odd occasion, catching him off guard and resurrecting the old feeling of wretched frustration, but he quashed it before it could become a threat. He still hated her for what she had done, but he would most likely never see her again and the impotent rage did nothing to help his state of mind.

He wasn't thinking of her at all one night after the heavy rains, when he was moving herds back to their former paddocks, on his own this time. He had been working into the night and stopped very close to the homestead, but still far enough away that he could be out of sight and mind. Flopping down on the earth with only his arms behind his head he gazed up at the canopy of stars above him, he had succeeded in his goal to work himself until he was too tired to dwell on his situation. His lids were heavy and he was being lulled into sleep by the sounds of the bush when he caught the sound of hoof beats coming towards him. He pulled himself up, not sure that he wasn't dreaming. For some reason he felt he shouldn't call out, it was probably another stockman, why would they be coming after him this late, unless something was terribly wrong. He had just caught sight of the horse and rider when they veered away from him going on further out at a fast trot. He followed a few steps, still bemused as to why someone had come out here in the dark of night when there was no work for them; they couldn't be looking for him. The horse stopped at the next fence and its rider dismounted awkwardly. The figure stumbled, and Frank could make out quick heavy breathing, it was only when whoever it was turned swiftly on the spot that he noticed a long plait whipping behind them that he realised who it was. He stood frozen in astonishment. Why on earth was she out here? He saw her run up to the fence and fumble for an opening, but she was much too far from the gate. Then he realised she was crying. Her sobs became louder and more desperate as she searched before in the dark, suddenly she let out a harsh cry and though her head over the fence, crying fiercely into her arms.

Frank stood watching unsure what to do. He had no wish for her to notice him, but for some reason he couldn't look away. He knew he was trespassing, watching something that was private but he remained mesmerised. She had seemed so aloof and uncaring he couldn't have imagined her capable of crying like this. These were real tears, he had not cried himself for years now, but remembered the last time he had. It had been tears much like these he was witnessing now, her shoulders shook violently and he shivered although the breeze was only slight. Surely nothing so terrible could have happened to her to warrant this? She raised her head and he froze holding his breath, but she didn't look round. Time to be gone he thought and began stalking away as quietly as he could.

'Who's there', she suddenly whispered, her voice rasping from her throat.

He stopped in his tracks, feeling a fool. For once in his life he had been looking to avoid a confrontation.

'Who is it', she called out, confidence returning to her voice.

Frank silently cursed and stepped from the shadows into her path. She stared at him, her chest rising and falling with her troubled breathing. He raised his eyes to hers and held them there defiantly. He felt his hands unconsciously ball into fist as he held them firmly by his sides. She apparently didn't notice.

'What do you think you're doing, spying on people?'

'I was not spying', he spat back, 'and it's you who shouldn't be here, it's dangerous'.

She snorted, although through her tears it came out as an odd hysterical sound. 'I know this land a damn sight better than you. What are you doing skulking around here? I've a mind to tell my godmother you're not to be trusted'.

He came towards her, the greater light showing his features, she stepped back, her arms wrapped around herself, suddenly defensive. The silence between them broken only by the sounds of nature, his black eyes trained on her. Her fear and shock made her seem younger, and he felt a twinge of pleasure, remembering her teasing and how wretched she had made him feel, but to his surprise it didn't last long and as it left him so did his anger, all he was left with were the remnants of his wounded pride.

'You don't have any authority over my father', he almost winced when he referred to Paddy but he was determined still to put her in his place. Another thought then overcame him that if she did make trouble for him with Mary and Paddy found out he would hardly take Frank's side. She had him trapped again. Well he wasn't going to let her get away with it for much longer.

'You can't stay out here', he snapped and advanced towards her, and backed up against the fence she had no means of escape.

'What are you doing', she screeched in indignation, as he grabbed her wrist and began dragging her towards the horse.

'I'm not getting blamed if you end up killed because you're being stupid', he spat, 'I'm taking you back to the big house'. He knew he may well get in trouble for leaving the herds but it would be nothing compared to what would happen if she were found in the morning half eaten. She had already stolen his little amount of peace.

She dug her feet into the ground and tried to wriggle from his grasp but he was too strong for her, stronger than she had ever imagined. His grip tightened so she had to bite her lip from the pain. In frustration he gave her a sharp tug, to pull her forward. As he reached for the horses reins she tried to break free from him but to no avail. Trying to lift her up, it never occurred to him that this was the closest he had ever been to actually touching a woman. She was no different from fool headed sheep that needed to be moved by force. But she continued to twist in his grasp and succeeded in making him drop her, but still she couldn't force him his hand from her. Spinning round she clawed at his face and she herd him hiss, more in shock than in pain. But his brief unsettlement was all the advantage she needed. She moved on him and sank her teeth into the bare skin of his forearm, pushing them as deep as she could until he cried out and threw her away from him. She fell to the ground hard landing on her shoulder which instantly flared up with pain. She had only a moment to savour freedom before she looked up to see him towering over her; murderous contempt resonating from him so strong she swore she could feel it already. It almost seemed irrelevant if he actually hit her or not. She cowered throwing her arms over her face waiting for the blow to come. Instead she felt an impact next to her as he kicked at the rocky earth and sent the stones flying, as he did so he let out a howl of rage, then stalked away leaving her a stunned heap on the ground. Shaking she watched his figure disappearing back into the darkness. In that moment she felt more alone than ever before and she wrapped her arms bout herself and cried again until she had no energy left to go on.

Frank headed back to his restful spot, although it was far from fistful now, he made little kicks at the ground as he walked and threw himself down under the tree that had previously been his shelter. Seething he tried to get a handle on his breathing and on his thoughts. It had taken all his strength of mind to aim that kick at the ground and not at her. If only she had been a man, it would have been a wonderful release to vent all of his frustration on her. It was another contradiction to his understanding of the world. Women could be the cause of a fight but never an opponent. Well to hell with her; she could stay out here and hopefully get bitten by a snake. By morning he could be gone, if he didn't fall asleep he could move the last herd at first light, no one would ever know he had seen her. But despite his ability to rationalise he could feel the guile rising in him again. If he had hit her as he had wanted to, and gone on hitting her which would have been such a sweet release, he would have lost everything, before it was time. His world would soon come crashing down anyway, why not just let it happen. But he was clear thinking enough to know that he would not let his undoing be down to her. He would not give her that control.

He didn't hear her footsteps approaching until she was close. As she steeped into his line of sight he raised his head, his eyes flashing dangerously. She stopped and raised her hands. He remained frozen; his jaw tight, when she came close enough that he could see the tears still drying on her face. She lowered her eyes to the ground and knelt beside him, still a slight distance between them.

'I'm sorry', she said painfully. Still he gave no reaction. Taking a shuddering breath she reached a hand out to the shining red scratches on his cheek. He jerked away as though her touch were poisonous and shot her a look of deepest disgust. Feeling the tears building again behind her eyes she stood up and ran. Back at the fence her creamy mare waited and nuzzled her face affectionately as she cried into its mien.

'Why don't you want to go back?' The voice behind her shocked her into looking round. He stood half in the darkness and looked less tense than a moment ago but the intensity still radiated from him. His voice had lost its danger as well, but now it was cold and emotionless, which unnerved her even more. From the few times she had met him she realised he was a person who made everyone uncomfortable, but it didn't seem like it was this that bothered him.

But she didn't know how to answer him so just shook her head and stared dejectedly at her own boots. All the fight had gone out of her now. She had been shocked at just how much he'd scared her. She moved grasped the reins tighter as he stepped out from the shadow. The fight definitely hadn't all gone from him. She stood there before him sniffing wretchedly and feeling utterly humiliated, while Frank continued to stare her down.

'You shouldn't keep her standing there' he mentioned to the horse.

'I can't go back to the house', she looked up at him desperately, 'please, just don't tell anyone I was here. I'll be gone by morning; I won't get you into trouble I promise'.

His expression didn't change as he approached her. Taking the reins his hand brushed against hers and she moved aside allowing him to lead the animal off. She followed a few steps before clearing her throat.

'Well I don't want the poor beast bitten to death', he snapped, leading her horse to where his own was tethered. He had already checked the ground and made sure his resting place was reasonably safe.

'I didn't say anything about not wanting you bitten'. He called as she came up behind him.

She recoiled, then wiped a drying tear from her cheek. 'You've a lot more to say for yourself since I last saw you'.

He shot her an especially murderous look.

'I am sorry', she piped up. But he ignored her and went on smoothing the horse's nose.

'I'm not very used to apologising'.

'You'd never tell', he answered sardonically.

'And I'm not doing very well. That's another thing I'm not used to'.

He fastened the last knot and spun around 'Look. I don't know why you're out here in the middle of the night where you don't belong, and I don't care what you do with yourself just leave me alone. I don't want to see you and I don't to hear you ever again'.

The tears stung again. She hated herself more than him at that moment. 'I apologised', she said. Her fear of him was becoming mixed up in her self consciousness.

'Shut up and go away', he hissed.

'I won't leave Harmony'.

'Harmony?'

She nodded towards the horse.

Frank rolled his eyes, 'You stupid city people'.

She moved closer and stroked Harmony who seemed to recognise the touch of her owner. Something in him was inexplicably moved by the gesture and of the horse's response to it. It was just as alien as seeing her cry.

'What is yours called?' she extended a hand to the piebald. Frank was half hoping the animal would make a move to bite her as it often did, but apparently it was too tired to react.

'We don't name them, it's..

'Stupid?'

'Unnecessary'. He said without humour, 'Horses are working animals. You may s well go naming the sheep'.

She smiled, 'Yes but if horses are workers then they're equals. They deserve names'.

He glared at her. He had rather enjoyed being in authority over her.

'But you're right I suppose. There's certainly no place for sentimentality out here', she sniffed.

He averted his eyes from her face, feeling utterly bemused. Just minutes ago he was convinced he was about to kill her and now she stood in front of him talking about horses. Was she mad as well as stupid? He wondered then if he might in fact be dreaming. With a heavy sigh he flopped down on the soft earth and turned his back to her. Maybe if he shut his eyes he would fall asleep and find her gone. How dare this phantom intrude on his prized solitude?

But the phantom had no intention of disappearing. He could here her rummaging around in the saddle bag and squeezed his eyes tighter as he attempted to block her from his mind. He felt, rather than heard, her crouch down beside him.

'I know you're not asleep', she said quietly, as though she were speaking to a child. 'How about a peace offering?'

Curiosity prompted his eyes open. She was holding out a thick piece of chocolate. He raised an eyebrow.

'No thank you'.

'Accepted it for my sake. Maybe Meghan would like it'.

'Meggie', he corrected.

'Yes of course. Meggie', she seemed to say to herself.

The sound of his sister's name softened him a little. He took the chocolate without a word of thanks and tucked it into his small bundle.

She took another nervous breath, 'Do you prefer Frank or Francis?'

He looked back her with greater amazement, trying to fathom if she were playing a trick on him. He was ill equipped to realise that she desperately trying to get a grip on her own emotions.

'Frank', he answered with a bite of stubbornness.

She nodded, 'you look like a Frank'.

What on earth did that mean? He didn't look like an anybody.

'I'm bothering you again'.

'Yes', he said through gritted teeth, feeling his temper rising again.

She gasped loudly 'I'm sorry, I'm upsetting everybody today'.

Suddenly her lip was trembling, her breathing was shallow again. Frank's bewilderment became panic, she looked crazed.

'Miss…'

Choking she got up and ran from him out into the darkness. He won his feet in an instant and was sprinting after her. She wasn't headed toward the fence but seemed to going around the perimeter. He chased her through the no man's land that was neither homestead nor paddocks. When he caught up to her he turned her round and she stumbled blindly, pulling away from him and then flagging as he took her by the shoulders and shook her. Her tears overwhelming her she sunk to her knees, he lowered her down still holding on to her. He knelt down as well and let her lay her head on his shoulder. He could feel the shudder of every tear that ran through her.

Looking up at the stars he remembered that night, years ago in the old barn in New Zealand when his little sister had held him through tears such as this. All of a sudden he was filled with pity for the miserable girl in his arms. Remembering Meggie's soothing he tried to copy it now.

'I don't want to go back either', he whispered to her.

She gripped him a little tighter