As I walked towards the front on the Landrover I suddenly felt as if I was walking in slow-motion. I noticed that the windscreen had blown out and shattered on the rock and I realised that the reflection of the sun on one of the shards had provided the beacon that had drawn me here. Then I looked into the cabin and suddenly time returned to normal. James was lying against the door, and although his face was in shadow I saw how deathly pale it was. His eyes were closed and a trickle of blood from a wound on his forehead had run down his cheek and dried there.

“James!” I cried out in agony, and then a miracle happened. His eyelids flickered and slowly opened. He stared at me and in a voice that was more like a croak and barely audible, I'm sure he said “My angel”.

He tried to lick his cracked lips and muttered “Dry.”

“Oh my darling!” I gasped, and falling to my knees I quickly uncapped the water bottle and reaching in, held it to his lips as he moved his head forward.

“Just little sips, darling,” I urged, and he obeyed me almost like a child, and then exhausted, lay back against the door.

“Oh James! Thank God you're alive.” I was crying now, tears pouring down my cheeks. He leaned forward again and I let him slip a little more water.

“Heard the plane. Knew... it was you.” His voice was a little stronger now. “Leg hurts...caught. Think it's broken. Couldn't reach water bottle. Phones went out the windscreen.”

I looked around me and saw he was right. The phones were on the ground – tantalizingly out of his reach. I suddenly realised that I hadn't reported that I had landed safely. Charleville must be wondering what had happened. Fortunately, James had the number of the Royal Flying Doctor Service entered in the satellite phone so I quickly rang them to report on James and that I was alright. Erin who was manning the switchboard sounded very pleased to hear from me and I felt guilty that in my haste to check on James I hadn't let them know I was on the ground and with him.

“You're going to need some heavy duty winches to right the car,” she said, “We've put out a call and there's a couple of roo shooters in your area who have the gear needed. They should arrive about the same time as the helicopter.”

“Thanks so much, Erin,” I replied, “That's something I hadn't thought of. Oh, and could you possible ring Jean and Jim Stewart and tell them I've found James? Jim is out searching and I'd like him to know he can return home.”

I stooped down to report back to James. “Help is coming darling. They're sending a helicopter and doctor, also some guys with winches to help rescue you.”

James nodded and even managed a smile. “I knew you'd come and find me.”

I reached in and found his hand and held it.

“Oh James, this is all my fault. If I hadn't deceived you you mightn't have been out here and this accident would never have happened. I'm so sorry.”

He shook his head slowly “Not true,” he murmured, “Not your fault.”

I was concerned that he was exhausting himself. I had a thousand questions to ask him, but they could wait. “Shhh darling, you should lie quietly and rest. Help will be here soon.”

James lay quietly for a while – every so often moving his head forward and I gave him another sip of water. I knew it was likely that he would be having surgery of some sort once he was rescued and back in Charleville, so I didn't give him anything to eat.

He suddenly began to speak again, quietly but clearly. “I've been thinking a lot the last month,and especially since the crash. I knew how much I love you but I didn't know how to make amends for walking out on you.”

I opened my mouth to speak but then thought better of it. Perhaps it was better for James to keep talking.

“Funny how the accident happened. My phone rang and I looked down for a second, and when I looked up there was an old Aboriginal lady standing on the track. I swear she hadn't been there before. I swerved to avoid her and the car tipped over.”

“Aunty!” I gasped.

“You know her?” he asked.

“Don't laugh at me but she came to me in a dream on Sunday night and told me to come to you.”

James looked serious. “I'm not laughing at you, not after what happened.”

He lay back for a while resting and then suddenly said “Can you reach the glove box?”

“Yes I think so,” I replied, wondering what was on his mind. I carefully eased myself into the cabin and reached up to I find the catch and open it. As the lid opened a small square box fell out and I caught it. Every woman knows the significance of a box like that but I hardly dared hope. I handed it unopened to James.

He winced as a spasm of pain hit him but he also managed a slight smile.

“I was going to make this really memorable – you know, a romantic candle-lit dinner, but I guess nothing could be more memorable than this.”

One-handed, he managed to open the lid of the box. It sounds like something from a Mills and Boon novel, but I swear it's true – at that moment the rays of the setting sun reflected off part of the shattered windscreen and bathed the interior of the cabin in a warm glow, and the solitaire diamond in the ring now revealed, took up the light and blazed with all the colours of the rainbow.

“Lesley, once all this is over, will you marry me?” he said.

“Oh James! Oh yes please!” I gasped, and the tears started to flow again but this time they were happy tears.

“Can you help me please?” he said, so I took the box off him, extracted the ring and handed it to him and then held my left hand out so that he could slip the ring on my finger. I gazed in wonder at it – it was a perfect fit. Then I leaned further into the cabin and we kissed.

We stayed quiet for a while, just enjoying being together as the light faded. Then I heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. I stood up and saw headlights in the gloom as it drove up and stopped. A grizzled old man in the most battered hat I've ever seen stepped out and approached me, followed by a strapping younger man, about six feet tall.

“G'day. Reg Brooks from Moona Station. This is my son Geoff. I heard you've got a spot of bother.”

“G'day Reg, Geoff, I'm Lesley Brodie. James is trapped by his leg. The doctor's on the way by helicopter but they need a winch to pull the Landrover up.”

“Brodie eh? You'd be from Mackenzie Station? I met John Brodie a couple of times. I was sorry to hear about him. I heard you're making a fair fist of running the property though.”

I'm sure I blushed. “Thanks Reg. I've got a good team and was taught by an expert, so that helps.”

“Right, let's have a look at this young chap,” he said, and walking over to the Landrover, stooped down to see James.”

“G'day there young feller, we'll get you out of there as soon as the Doc arrives.”

James managed a smile “Well I am getting a bit sick of being stuck here,” he responded.

Just then came another sound, first almost like the buzz of a mosquito but rapidly increasing in volume.

“It's the helicopter darling, you'll soon be free,” I said.

“It's almost dark, will they be able to find us?” he asked.

“They'll see the Cessna. It's like a giant 'X marks the spot',“ I replied. “Anyway Reg has left his headlights on.”

The sound of the helicopter was very loud now, so I gently released James's hand and stood up to wave as the chopper slowly descended to land about a hundred metres away.

Just then I saw the headlights of another truck approaching.

“Geez, this is getting bigger than 'Ben Hur',” muttered Reg as the truck skidded to a halt.

A tall rangy man unfolded himself from the cabin and Reg said quietly “No show without Punch.”

I nearly laughed, the first time I'd felt like that in quite a while, but instead said “You know him then?” even though the answer was obvious.

The new arrival walked over and introduced himself as Ted Mortimer. Pleasantries were exchanged, at least between Ted and I. Reg and Ted merely nodded at each other and it was obvious that there had been issues between them. The important thing was that a truce had been called to help deal with the emergency. That's the great thing about country people, when something like this happens, they all band together.

The helicopter rotors stopped turning and I saw a slight young woman open the door and alighted, carrying a bag. As she approached I suddenly realised that I'd seen her before.

“It's Dr Holmes isn't it?” I greeted her. “We met when you came out to Mackenzie Station when the son of my head stockman was concussed.”

“Yes of course, and please call me Helen,” she replied, “I thought you looked familiar, Mrs....?”

“Lesley Brodie,” I replied. Well she couldn't be expected to remember everyone she meets in her job. I introduced her to Reg and Ted. Helen is a slight woman, but she immediately took charge of the situation.

“Thanks for coming,” she said, “We're going to need your help to tilt the Landrover up to about forty-five degrees to that we can get the patient out. Now let's have a look at this young man.”

I showed her around to the front of the Landrover, and she stooped down to talk to James. Once she had ascertained the problem, she suggested giving him an injection to help with the pain.

“We're going to lift the Landrover up but not let it fall onto the other wheels in case it makes your injuries worse,” she explained, “So an injection will help you keep still while we extract you.”

James nodded his assent, and Dr Holmes prepared the injection. I told her that I had give James some sips of water but no food and she nodded, saying that was exactly the right thing to do. Then she stooped down and inserted the needle in James's arm.

While this was going on, Ted and Reg had maneuvered their trucks so that they could shine their spotlights on the Landrover. They both had winches on their trucks and also some jacks, and it wasn't long before they had attached wires to the Landrover and were starting the job of lifting it up to about forty-five degrees. Helen motioned them to stop when she judged the driver's door was clear enough of the ground so that she could reach James. By now two more men, orderlies I suppose you'd call them, had appeared wheeling a trolley. This really was getting to be quite an operation.

The driver's door was jammed, but judicious use of a crowbar quickly released it and it was carefully eased open so that James did not fall out. One of the men reached in and held him, while Helen Holmes stooped down to see what was holding James's foot. It was caught under the brake pedal and his leg was twisted in an unnatural way. There was a brief discussion between the men and the conclusion was that Ted grabbed some tools from his truck and worked his way under the Landrover to free up the brake linkages and so loosen the pedal. I have to take my hat off to these 'bush mechanics'. Working as they do many miles from the nearest service station they are all experts at fixing anything they turn their hand to.

Once James's foot was free, Dr Holmes was able to examine his leg, and thanks to the injection he didn't wince when she gently moved it to check on the damage.

“It looks like your fibula is broken, James,” she said. We'll have to bind it up with a splint and you'll need an operation once we get you back to Charleville.”

She set about binding up his leg and then the two orderlies very gently lifted James out of the Landrover and onto the trolley. Once they were clear, the winch was started again and the Landrover landed on all four wheels with a crash and stood there looking a bit sorry for itself.

“I guess you'd like to come to Charleville with us?” said Helen.

“Yes please,” I replied, and then blushing I added “We've just got engaged and I don't want to let him out of my sight.”

Helen laughed. “That sounds like a good idea in the circumstances. Look there is slight problem in the number of people we can take on the helicopter, but I have come up with a solution. Craig, who's acting as an orderly tonight is actually one of our pilots and he's fully conversant with the Cessna. He's offered to camp down overnight and fly it back to Charleville in the morning if you like? He can bring James's dog back too."

With all that had been going on I had temporarily forgotten about Stella, who had been quietly sitting nearby, content that her master was being taken care of. Now like most pilots, I'm not really keen on someone else flying my plane, but in this instance I didn't hesitate “Thank you so much Helen, and I'll thank Craig too. That's a great solution.”

To be continued

Many thanks to Carla Bay for her technical advice on this chapter.

Image credit: Australian cattle station by Harris Walker reproduced under Creative Commons licence with attribution.