Red Dirt Heart 04 - Red Dirt Heart 4 (10 page)

Charlie squinted at his watch. “What time is it?”

“It’s just after eleven,” I said. Which in itself wasn’t
that
late, but after a muster, everyone always crashed early. I smiled at Sam. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Beyond tired.” Sam straightened up slowly in his chair and groaned. “Oh dear God. I hurt all over.”

Charlie chuckled. “And you’ll be worse tomorrow.”

Now it was my turn to groan. “Ugh. Tomorrow.”

Charlie put his hand on my thigh. “I’ll take first shift.”

“No,” I said. “That’s not fair. We’ll all do it equally. But thanks for the offer.”

Sam looked between the two of us. “What happens tomorrow?”

“Well, we have two thousand head of cattle in confined quarters that need constant supervision for stress and making sure they’re fed and watered. Billy’s out there right now.”

“Really?” Sam asked.

“Yep. We’ll take it in shifts until the road trains get here to take ’em.”

“What do I have to do?” Sam asked, looking alarmed. “I thought it was over. You should have told me I still had shit to do.”

Charlie laughed. “It’s alright. I didn’t expect you to take shifts.”

“I’ll do my part,” Sam said, tired and defiant. “I’m not that useless.”

“You’re far from useless,” Charlie said quickly.

“Then I’ll do my share of the work.”

I snorted out a laugh, and they both looked at me. “You two are so alike,” I told them. Then the cold winter air got the better of me and I shivered.

“You cold?” Charlie asked.

“How can you two not be?” I asked. “It’s freezing out here.”

“Come on, then.” Charlie slowly, stiffly got to his feet. “I gotta catch some shut-eye.”

Sam tried to stand up, groaning loudly, but his body had seized up and he fell back into his chair. “Jesus Christ, I really do hurt all over.”

Charlie put out his hand and pulled his brother to his feet. “Just wait ’til tomorrow. We’ll see how keen you are to ‘do your share’.”

* * * *

Sam did do his share the next day. As tired and as sore as he was, he dragged his sorry ass onto the quad-bike and did a four-hour stint of mob-watchin’ while we separated the steers and heifers from the cows and bulls, and sectioned off the keepers.

When it came time to say goodbye, Charlie gave both Sam and Laura a hug, thankin’ them again and again, and he smiled as they drove away.

The next day, three road trains arrived in a long cloud of dust and collected the cattle for market. By the time it was done, Ernie, Billy, Bacon, Trudy and Gracie were all packed up and on the road for a few days’ vacation in the Alice. Nara had gone to her house for a well-earned rest, and Ma and George were noticeably missing, their bedroom door closed. Even Nugget was asleep in his bed.

We were in the kitchen, and Charlie put his empty teacup in the sink. I kissed the back of his neck. “I booked us in for that weekend away next week, when the others get back,” he said.

“Really?”

He turned to face me. “King bed, double showers.”

My head fell back and I groaned. “Sounds good.”

Charlie smiled at me with that hint of something special in his eyes. “Can you hear that?”

I listened and heard… nothing. “No.”

He gave me a bone-tired smile. “We’re finally alone,” he whispered, taking my hand and putting it to his face. He sighed into the palm of my hand and closed his eyes.

I kissed his closed eyelids, his forehead, and lifting his chin, I kissed his lips. My body thrummed in anticipation of what was coming, at the warmth of his body, his hard muscles flush against me. He slowed the kiss, only to lead me to our room, where we fell onto the bed and he made slow, sleepy love to me.

Soft touches. Tight embraces. Slow, deep kisses and hand-holding. Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly love him any more than I already did…

I was a teenager once. I think.

Everyone came back from their break refreshed and rested and ready for a busy spring. When Trudy and Bacon got home, little Gracie ran to her Uncle Charlie with her arms above her head. Charlie scooped her up and carried her on his hip more than normal, having missed her terribly the five days she was gone.

And no sooner had they all returned, unpacked and got the lowdown on work to be done, than we climbed into the Cruiser and drove into town.

We’d had a quieter week with everyone gone, but the work never stopped. There was always something that needed doing, whether it was on the farm or in his office, so to have a few days alone with Charlie in town was bliss.

The sleeping in was bliss. The takeout food was bliss. The shower and spa bath was a whole new world of bliss.

But the quiet time, the just-us time was the best of all.

Like lazing on the bed in the middle of the afternoon. Well, Charlie was sprawled across the bed on his back. He’d untucked his shirt and pulled his boots off, thrown his hat onto the table and groaned. “How can not working be tiring?”

I snorted and I pulled off my boots. “We’ve been up since six,” I said.

“Six o’clock is a sleep-in,” he countered.

“True. But we went out for breakfast, ate our body weight in food and coffee, went to the mall—”

“Shopping centre.”

“Same thing. Bought clothes for us—”

“For you. You wear all mine anyway.”

I ignored him. “Bought some gifts for my folks, mailed them. Went to the movies.”

“Watched some shit movie.”

“It was awesome!”

“Trav, it was based on comic book characters.”

“Like I said. It was awesome.”

“And you think my taste in movies is shit.”

“Anyway, I was thinking for lunch—”

“Lunch?” he interrupted me. “I’m still full from breakfast.”

I held up a jar of Nutella.

“Oh.”

“Hungry now?”

He grinned and started to undo his belt. “Hell yes.”

“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t bring a basting brush…” I looked the tub of chocolate spread. “I could just stick my dick the whole tub, you know, like in that movie
American Pie
and the apple pie scene.”

Charlie’s hands stopped on his fly, his eyes wide. “What? And you think my taste in movies is shit.”

I snorted out a laugh and stuck my finger in the jar before putting it in my mouth. I sucked the chocolate off my finger suggestively. “Luckily we agree on the porn we like.”

He laughed at that. “Get undressed and get over here.”

“You ready for type-one diabetes?” I asked, undoing my jeans.

Charlie, now naked and spreadeagled on the bed, gripped his hard cock and gave it a squeeze. He laughed as I finger-painted chocolate up his length.

He didn’t laugh when I sucked it off. And he certainly didn’t laugh when I rimmed him with it. It was more of a groan/whimper/plead when I pushed my lube-slicked cock into his hole and fucked him until he came. He had Nutella smeared all over his back, shoulders and hips where I’d gripped him, and I licked and scraped most of it off with my teeth.

And we laughed at the mess we were in as we showered and scrubbed each other clean. The mess wasn’t too bad the first time, but we outdid ourselves the second time. Charlie’s Nutella finger-painting skills left a lot to be desired, but his fucking skills were stellar.

When we checked out the next day, despite being proud of his achievements, Charlie didn’t want to have to explain to the motel receptionist how the hell Nutella ended up on the sheets, towels, in the spa or in the shower. But the empty jar of Nutella in the bin would have given us away.

He just handed over the keys to our room, gave her a tip of his hat and an embarrassed smile.

“Did you enjoy your stay with us?” she asked.

“Ah, yes,” he said, and he even blushed. “Very much. Though I’m pretty sure I won’t be eating Nutella for a while.”

“Pardon?”

“Have a nice day.” He dipped his hat again.

When we got in the Cruiser, he laughed. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be getting a dry-cleaning bill.”

“Take it out of my wages,” I told him with a smile. “It was worth every cent.”

* * * *

The few weeks that followed the winter muster and our weekend away were as they always are. The days were warmer, the nights still cold enough to need body heat for warmth, and the desert began to show signs of life.

And as if having cows starting to calve early wasn’t busy enough, we had two teenaged kids arrive on our doorstep.

Peter, the director at the college who Charlie had organised the program with, drove them out to the station. And much as it was theoretically a good idea, I had to wonder how practical it was.

One boy, Amos Frame, aged fifteen, and a girl, Bianca Palladino, aged fourteen, got out of the car and looked around at the homestead and closest sheds: their home for the next seven days.

Amos, a tall, skinny Aboriginal boy, smiled, and I imagined his expression was a lot like mine when I first arrived here: surprised, excited and curious.

Bianca, on the other hand, looked like a goth-wannabe with her dark clothes, dyed jet-black hair with a purple steak that covered her pale face. And I said wannabe because there was a distinct look of hope and wonder in her eyes before she remembered to school it with apathy.

Trudy stood beside me with Gracie on her hip. “Oh great,” she said dryly. “I think I’ve seen this movie.”

Charlie welcomed them warmly and invited the three of them inside for lunch. He explained accommodations and where they’d be sleeping and what the basic rules of the station were, which he finished with, “There is no intake of alcohol on this station.”

Bianca was quick to roll her eyes and make a sound of disgust. “Are we allowed to smoke? Or is that banned too?”

“Sure,” Charlie said lightly. “If you wanna die of lung cancer or emphysema, then go right ahead. Just do it outside and nowhere near anybody else, especially Gracie. If I find cigarette butts left on the ground anywhere, I’ll have you muckin’ out stables and spreading horseshit on gardens.” He smiled cheerfully. “But apart from that, knock yourself out.”

Amos laughed, earning a glare from Bianca.

And as the afternoon wore on, Amos followed Charlie excitedly as we showed them around the yards and sheds, askin’ questions and touchin’ everything, while Bianca spent most of the time looking at the ground.

I wondered what the hell had happened to make her so removed.

At dinner, when conversation was a bit stilted because of the strange company, Charlie smiled. He prompted all the questions, nothing too personal, but just enough to keep them interested.

“Can you ride a horse?”

“A motorbike?”

“Do you like pizza? We do homemade pizzas on Friday nights in the oven out the back.”

“Ever been in a helicopter? If you behave yourselves by the end of the week—or if you haven’t piked and wanna go home—I’ll take ya’s up for an aerial tour of the station.”

“Can we fly the helicopter?” Amos asked, his eyes the size of saucers.

Charlie didn’t smile. “No.”

Bianca snorted, a sarcastic sound. “Can we have
any
fun?”

“Yep,” Charlie said. “Starting tomorrow morning, five a.m., you can have fun feeding the dogs and horses.”

She huffed, in all her teenaged glory. Amos, on the other hand brightened. “What am I doin’, boss?”

“You can spend the morning with me and Billy. We’re checkin’ the cows. They’re calvin’ already.”

“Cool.”

His excitement was palpable, as was Bianca’s sullen mood. But the next morning, both of them were up at five with the rest of us, ate breakfast with the rest of us and went about their chores afterward.

Apart from having two teenagers on the farm, the day was quite normal. I helped George stack the hay bales in the morning, and in the afternoon I did a round with Ernie and Bacon on cow and calf watching.

We brought back two sickly orphaned Brahman calves, which brought our spring tally up to six already. As we loaded them into the holding yard and set about gettin’ ’em fed, Amos was in the thick of it, all keen eyes and wide smiles, but Bianca stood back.

I’d seen her in the morning with the dogs, horses and chickens, so I knew she wasn’t afraid of animals. “Come on. Climb in.” She seemed to hesitate, so I said, “I need you to hold this little guy. He’s a bit wobbly.”

She looked at the baby Brahman calf between my knees, and after balking once, she climbed through the railing.

“Okay,” I told her. “Stand like I was, with a leg either side of him, but you might need to hold him up with your arms a bit too.”

The calf came up to her thighs, and he was twenty pounds of wobbly knees, but she did as I asked. “What’s wrong with it?”

“His momma didn’t take to him,” I said. “Sometimes if they’re weak, or sometimes for no reason at all, the cow just leaves them.”

Bianca frowned. “Will he be okay?”

“Depends. If he feeds from a bottle, hopefully he’ll do okay. If he doesn’t feed, then no, he won’t be okay.”

Just then, Charlie and Bacon brought the poddy line-feeder up from the shed, so I climbed over the railing and helped them hook it on and get the teats attached. Once it was done, Charlie climbed back through to the inside of the holding yard when he remembered he left the special poddy milk behind.

Bacon and I ran back to the shed to get it, and when we’d carried it back, Charlie was standing over one calf, with a leg each side of it like I’d shown Bianca. “It’s a reconstituted milk replacer,” he said to Bianca. I didn’t hear what she’d asked him, but it was obviously about the poddy milk.

“Wouldn’t they be better off with a cow who can feed them?”

“In the very beginning, yes, it is better. They need that first drink from a cow,” he said. “But sometimes, it helps to do it this way so we can see how much they’re getting. Or if they can feed at all.”

Bianca nodded, silently happy with that answer apparently. I smiled at Charlie, who seemed to be the only one who could get more than two words out of the girl.

Bacon climbed through the railings, taking the other calf, and Amos, Bianca, Charlie, George, Ernie and Bacon all calves standin’ at the teats, ready to feed.

“You guys ready?” I asked.

They shuffled the calves up closer to the feeder. I poured the warm milk into the feeder and the others held the calf’s mouths to the teats. Amos followed the others and managed to get his calf to attempt to feed. Bianca struggled a bit, through no fault of her own—some calves fed, some didn’t—but before she could get too upset, Charlie leaned over and helped her.

“Hold his head back,” he said patiently. “Like he’d be feeding if he was under a cow.” It took a few goes, but the calf, who was the smallest of the lot, did attempt to feed. He didn’t do it altogether too successfully, but wantin’ to feed was half the battle won.

As Amos cheered and even Bianca almost smiled, Charlie just beamed. He was so damn happy.

And if I’d doubted for one minute that this wouldn’t be a good idea, then I was very, very wrong.

Because if anything that made Charlie smile like that, happiness brimming with pride, then I’d do whatever it took to make it happen.

“Right!” Charlie said. “Amos and Bianca get naming rights. Three calves each.”

“Hey!” I smiled. “I thought I got naming rights!”

“The names you picked for the calves last year sucked,” Charlie said.

“Excuse me,” I said, pretending to be offended, “but The Beatles and Bruce Springsteen did just fine.”

“Well, except for John Lennon.”

“Yes, well, except for him.” I looked at Amos and Bianca, who were both looking at us warily. “John Lennon died.”

Bianca nodded slowly, like I was stupid. “Yeah. I know.”

I was about to explain that it wasn’t
that
John Lennon, when Charlie interrupted. “Well, you should know, there’s every chance these little calves might not make it. Chances of survival in poddies isn’t great.”

“So what are we naming them for?” Bianca asked. “I mean, why bother?”

“Because every living thing needs a name,” I said. “Whether it lives for a day or for a century.”

“Ooh, I know!” Amos cried. “Nick Del Santo, Levi Greenwood and the one and only Daniel Wells.”

I had no clue who he was talking about, but Charlie laughed, Ernie cheered and Bacon wailed, “No, not another Roos fan.”

Bianca walked off mumbling something about stupid football, so I gathered Amos had chosen the names of his three calves from his favourite players.

Charlie must have seen this conversation was lost on me. “The Roos are an AFL team.”

“I gathered that much.”