A Bush Christmas (4 page)

They left Stirling's house sometime around 6 pm. She
was
going ignore both men's invitations in favour of a long relaxing bath at the homestead, but a tiny, insidious thought of Ryan coming down the drive to double-check she
really
didn't want to go to the movies kept popping into her head. Caught between a rock and a hard place, she decided shooting was the lesser of the two evils.

Plus, she didn't want Stirling to kill the Easter Bunny either.

When she got to his weatherboard home, Jaime didn't even know why the man had invited her. He was brooding, non-communicative and as surly as ever.

As she'd arrived at his
back
door (taking into account Ryan's pointer from her first night at Polly's Plains), he'd met her on the verandah. That had nipped, right in the bud, her finding out more about the man through his belongings. Damn.

He had two roast beef rolls in his hand, dripping with gravy and partially wrapped in tin foil. Buster was gambling at his heels, ears perked, only taking his eyes off the food to lick the drops of gravy off the ground.

Stirling grunted hello and unceremoniously handed her one of the rolls. She gave up dinner at the pub for this?

Gravy spilled from the folds of the soft white bread as Jaime took hold of it. She licked gravy off her fingers, and watched as Stirling's eyes widened and followed the path of her fingers to her mouth. Impishly she grinned, and then slavishly licked one digit after the other.

Stirling shook himself, spun and stormed off the verandah and towards his four-wheel motorbike, parked out on the gravel beyond the garden gate.

And it
was
a garden too. Surprised, she looked around. Gladioli, yet to bloom, stood tall up against a small shed. Lavender bushes trailed branches into a yellow
banksia rose. Other bush and standard roses in all shapes and sizes still hummed with bees in the early evening warmth and the odd butterfly flit amongst a compact but flourishing vegie patch.

Marble Man was a
gardener
?

The man flummoxed her at every turn. Just when she thought she had a metaphorical box to squeeze him into, he went and turned it upside down and inside out.

‘You coming?' he yelled.

Jaime practically ran down the path, dripping gravy as she went. Stirling had somehow already finished his dinner.

Buster was perched on the rack at the back of the bike.

‘Where do you want me to sit?' asked Jaime. The rack at the front sure didn't seem her size. Plus it sported a weird holder that currently cradled a mean looking rifle.

‘Between me and Buster.' Stirling moved forward two inches. Buster dipped his head towards her and whined, his big doe eyes never leaving her beef roll.

‘Great. Just great,' she muttered. Why did this man like bikes so much?

‘What did you say?'

‘Nothing. Nothing at all.' She stepped on the footpeg Stirling had left free for her and swung her long leg over the bike. Settled herself, trying to leave a couple centimetres of space between her front and Stirling's back. Thank heavens she'd worn leggings, figuring the night could get cold, otherwise her bare legs would have been up close and personal with Marble Man's. She didn't need that assault on her senses.

She grappled with the roll and tried to snatch a bite.

‘Here, put this on.' Stirling handed her a helmet over his shoulder. ‘The trip might get a bit hairy, and I don't mean the furry kind.'

‘But I need to eat.'

‘And we have to go
now
.'

She could see his eyes were focused on a thunderstorm that seemed to be brewing out over the ranges. If he was so worried about it, why the hell was he even going? Men!

Despite the fact she was starving, she knew what she was going to have to do. She took a couple of quick bites – why couldn't he have allowed ten minutes to eat dinner in a civilised way? – then swung around sideways and gave Buster what he'd been hoping for: the rest of her beef roll. The dog's eyes nearly rolled back in his head with gratitude as he delicately took the tasty meal out of her hand.

She swung back and pulled the helmet over her head.

Stirling started the bike, flung a look over his shoulder to check she was ready and took off, tyres spinning and throwing fine grains of gravel in all directions.

Jaime wondered how Buster was faring, but she couldn't snatch a look as she was too busy grabbing folds of Stirling's shirt in an effort to keep herself on the bike. As it took off even faster, she gave up on the folds and grabbed a firm grip around his waist, hanging on for dear life.

With her legs now plastered against Stirling's they bored down the hill towards the river. Her hair streamed out behind her as the wind whistled around her body.

Starving or not, Jaime couldn't help but grin. This was life. Freedom and adrenaline all mixed into one intoxicating cocktail. She felt more alive than she had in the last twelve months, possibly even
years.

Stirling eventually took the bike through the river, the water splashing high and over her legs as they went. She squealed, which caused the man in front to hesitate in replacing his finger on the throttle. But he obviously then heard her gurgles of laughter, as she felt a guffaw come from within his belly and saw him shake his head. His finger came down hard and he let the bike run back to speed again.

He took the bike up a winding track and then a steeper one again, taking each switchback in his stride as he drove them to the top of the hill that overlooked the house, river and flats. After what seemed like forever, he finally pulled the bike to a stop on a rocky ledge and made a motion with his arm.

She pulled off her helmet and sat spellbound. Below her was the most incredible view she had ever seen. Polly's Plains homestead stood on a rise way off to the east. Emerald-green and yellow-gold flats weaved drunkenly down a valley that disappeared into the next mountain range. The river, a silver swathe of water, speared its way from one side of the flats to the other, undercutting rocky ledges and cliff faces in some parts, spreading broad and shallow in others. Slinging a look over her shoulder she could see slithers of heavy black clouds with their flashes of lightning brightening the horizon. But before them the whole valley was bathed in golden rays as the sun rapidly sank to her bed. It was like it was the rebellion of light against dark. And light was winning.

It was amazing. Incredible.

Stunning even.

And it was all laid bare just for
her
because Burdekin's Gap, and thus the nearest people, were in the next valley. It was a staggering feeling to know this was for her and her alone.

Allowing a sigh to escape from deep within, she realised it had been a long time since she'd felt so content.

‘Beautiful, isn't it?' said soft voice.

So immersed in the beauty of it all she'd forgotten Stirling was there. Okay so maybe there was another party privy to the scene out in front of her, but surprisingly that didn't matter.

‘Yes,' she breathed.

And then the man was silent. Except for the scurrying of Buster through nearby wattle bushes – on the scent of something – all was quiet on their hill.

After a time Stirling spoke again. ‘I wanted you to see this.' He glanced over his shoulder with an apologetic grimace. ‘That's why we had to hurry.'

Jaime gave a mute nod. Even though her stomach was growling, the stunning scene on display out to the north, east and south of her was worth missing her dinner for. ‘Thank you,' she said.

‘My pleasure.'

They sat and watched until the last of the sun's rays dipped over the horizon. Stirling then whistled up Buster and fired the bike to life. ‘Let's go find some bunnies!' he said.

Jaime, with one last wistful look at the valley now being claimed by the night, pulled on her helmet and tucked herself in behind the man who had orchestrated her seeing such an amazing sight.

 

‘Okay, so here's the light,' said Stirling, handing her a large spottie. ‘You'll need to move it slowly across that scrub along the fence line.'

Jaime looked at the big torch with distaste. She didn't like the thought of killing anything, but hey, you had to eat. All the same, she would have preferred it not to have been little bunnies she was spying on.

Stirling shook the light impatiently, gesturing for her take it quickly. He had already hauled the .22 rifle out of its holder and loaded the bullets into the magazine. Slammed the magazine into the gun. He was all set to go.

She took the light and swung it in the direction he wanted faster rather than slower, figuring she might give some of the poor little beggars the heads up they were about to be toast.

‘
Slowly
, Princess. I can't see a thing at that rate.'

Exactly, thought Jaime. But she moved the spottie at a steady rate this time, the beam of the light catching bobbing tails as bunnies dived under Burgan scrub.

THWACK!

The rifle retort was hollow and dull. All the same she jumped at least half a foot in the air. But not as high as the bunny caught in the crosshairs of Stirling's scope. That bunny did a pirouette like a ballerina and fell down dead.

‘Gotcha, ya little bastard,' said the man as he let loose with another bullet.

THWACK!

Another dancing bunny leapt into the air.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

The rabbits that made it into their burrows should have taken a ticket in TattsLotto. The man did not seem to miss.

After he'd run out of bullets, Stirling moved the bike along to the next thicket of Burgan. Loaded the magazine once more. Pointed in the direction he wanted the spotlight to go, and started shooting again.

Jaime could feel tears welling. Those poor little critters. What would all the mummy and daddy rabbits be saying to each other down in those burrows now? Well, we lost Peter, Flopsy and Mopsy tonight … But, thank the Lord, Cottontail's still here …

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

She wanted to yell
STOP!
She wanted to demand that he take her home. She wanted to say shoot me instead, but realised the man in front of her would think her demented. She argued with herself over the rights and wrongs of what he was doing. Hoped he was doing it for food or pelts. And while she did so, on and on the shooting went, for what seemed like hours, until finally Stirling ran out of bullets.

Pulling up the bike, he gestured for the spotlight and stowed it on the rack at the front. Next he secured the gun and then turned to say over the din of the motor, ‘Well, that was a good night's work.'

Jaime couldn't answer him. She was too choked up from silently crying throughout the whole evening.

But Stirling obviously couldn't see that because she was well hidden behind a helmet and the darkness surrounding them.

When she was little and afraid of the dark, her father had always reassured her that the darkness was her friend, that while she couldn't see what was out there, they couldn't see her either. Right at this moment she was grateful for that. What would big, tough stockman, Stirling McEvoy aka Marble Man, think of her crying over a bundle of rabbit fur? Definitely not much.

As they made their way home across the flats, through the river (there was no giggling this time), Jaime made a concerted effort to keep space between herself and the solid back in front of her. She was now absolutely appalled. She couldn't
understand how he could just ride away and leave all those carcasses down there. Surely he'd shot the bunnies for a reason? But that didn't appear to be the case. It looked like he did it just for the thrill of it.

Here she was thinking back in his garden earlier that the man actually had a soft side. How wrong was she? In reality he was just a cold-hearted killer. How could he live with himself?

Stirling pulled the bike up in front of the Polly's Plains homestead. She was so busy ruminating on the man's callousness, she hadn't even realised they'd arrived home.

Jaime swung herself off the bike, managing to clip Buster with her leg as she brought it over. She'd forgotten the damn dog was there; he'd been so quiet. She glared at Buster as he gave a little yelp of fright. Serve him right. By his silence, he was a party to the whole shemozzle too.

Jaime reefed the helmet off her head, shoved it at Stirling and went to storm down the garden path without so much as a thank you or goodbye. She knew she was being rude, but she was powerless to stop herself from feeling so angry she could spit.

‘Hey, Princess. Thanks for the hand.'

Jaime kept walking. Lit by the porch light, the back door looked like the entry to Utopia as far as she was concerned. So intent was she on getting away from Stirling McEvoy, she forgot about The Cat. It was sitting behind the old well, just waiting for his chance.

A streak of blue fur came flying from nowhere to attach itself to her leg.

‘Arghh!' Jaime jumped and then scuttled sideways as sharp claws dug deep into her shin. ‘Get off, you crazy cat!' She danced around in circles, trying to shake the creature off of her.

‘Dodge, get off Jaime right
now
!' Stirling McEvoy, who had come up from behind her, grabbed at The Cat and completely missed, which sent Jaime jumping another circle trying to dislodge the furry thing.

Buster came flying from the motorbike snarling at The Cat who, deciding the dog was worthy of his attention, let go of Jaime's leg and took off through the cat door to sanctuary inside the house.

Jaime immediately dropped to the ground and pulled up her leggings. Red welts ran in parallel lines along her skin. She was just pulling her pants back down when two big strong hands halted hers in their tracks.

‘Let me see,' said Stirling.

He dropped to the ground beside her and had hold of her before she could jerk away.