The Shearing Gun (14 page)

Elliot was bent double, laughing at my expense, turning red from mirth. My fist was itching to make him stop, but finally he gathered himself and asked, “I don’t know if you’re sweet and charming or just an idiot. Why bother naming a bloody sheep?”

I was getting a little indignant now and spun back toward the house. These sheep were my joy and he was pissing all over my delight. “Hank! Sorry! Wait up!” I stomped away and he ran to catch up, calling to me. “I love it that you named your sheep. It’s so cute. I’m not laughing at you.”

I stopped at the fence and turned back to him. “Did you even see the tag on the inside of your hat?”

He swept it off his head and looked inside with curiosity. There was a little embroidered tag that read “Trudy by Murray” in gold thread. Elliot looked up with a frown. “Trudy? I don’t get it.”

I sighed and crossed my arms. “Trudy is the sheep’s name that grew that wool. Look, over to the left. See the sheep with the black on top of her head? The one that just stood up? That’s Trudy. So you’re actually wearing her fleece. Uncle Murray sells some of his stuff, and you can order it in advance. So you can order a jumper made from Trudy’s next fleece so that it matches your hat. Or you can order a jumper for your sister made from Trudy’s sister.”

Elliot got it straightaway. “Or you can order a jumper from Trudy and then a jumper for your daughter from Trudy’s daughter.” I nodded and he frowned at the flock. “But how can you tell who the father is? Do you have to DNA test them?”

“Nah—I’m not that advanced. I just use an old trick from last century. See the rams? They have an apron on? That means that they can’t impregnate the ewes when I don’t want them to.”

The material hung under the rams’ belly, and when they tried to mount a ewe, the material got in the way. It wasn’t 100 percent foolproof, and I had to constantly check them to make sure they still had it on right, but it saved a lot of mucking around and having to pen the rams separately. A ewe would become fertile immediately after lambing, which meant she could drop a lamb (or twins) every five to six months. But it weighed on her physical condition and came through badly in her wool.

Elliot eyed the apron with a painful look. “Damn. That’s like a chastity belt for sheep. The poor buggers! In with the ladies but unable to get any.”

I sent a sly look his way. “Did you know that some rams are homosexual? They spend their whole time trying to mount other males and don’t even bother about the available females.”

Elliot’s jaw dropped. “Are any of your rams homosexual?” he asked with wide eyes.

I gave him an innocent look. “I’ve asked them all, but none are admitting to it. There seems to be a lot of closet doors locked up in this part of the district.”

As the sun peeped over the horizon, Elliot’s laugher boomed across the empty land.

Chapter 12

T
HE
DAYS
passed slowly. Winter is cold and dreary on the farm—a time to make sure everything is ready for spring. I worked the best I could with one arm. I could feel the bone becoming stronger each day. I fixed up the farm vehicles, patched holes in the shed roof, chopped wood one-handed and stored it up for next winter, mended broken fences, and got my paperwork up to date.

The local footy team persuaded the Pigram Brothers to put on a concert in town as a fundraiser, and we had hordes of country and folk music fans descend on us for the weekend. The music wasn’t really my thing, but there’s something about traditional aboriginal instruments and sounds being set to modern music that just makes you proud to be an Australian.

The rain held off, and a stage was set up on the edge of the oval. The area in front of the stage was declared the dance floor, and hundreds swayed with the rhythms the seven indigenous brothers created, combining drums and electric guitars with ukuleles, harmonicas, and vocals. There were scores of women wearing minimal clothes as they danced to the music, and the local boys flocked to the scene. On the opposite side of the oval was a temporary tent set up for selling drinks, and two mobile caravans sold food such as pies, chips, hot-dogs, and wraps.

I stood in the crowd with Middy and Neil, and watched the music work its magic on the audience. Gavin pushed through to my side, slapped me on the back and eyed off a sweet young thing undulating slowly on the edge of the dance floor, setting the hem of her skirt swishing.

“Oh, shit. I need some of that,” Gavin groaned as he watched closely. The young woman had rounded hips and rounded breasts shown off by her bright yellow top, and her wavy hair cascaded down her back. As we watched she smiled coyly in our direction through her long eyelashes, and I mentally winced.
Please don’t let her set her sights on me.

“Go for it,” I urged Gavin.

He hesitated. “You sure you don’t want to have a stab at her first?”

Fuck no.
“I’m fine,” I promised him.

Gavin beamed and bounced in time to the music as he made his way over. His target smiled at him slightly, but I saw her throw a disappointed look in my direction. I apologized to her mentally, admitting she was cute, but she just wasn’t
my type
.

My type of fish was currently holding the waist of his nurse-cum-receptionist as they danced in the growing dark. Gloria looked like she was having great fun as she laughed with him. She was dressed up in tight, crisp jeans, western boots, and a little tank top that revealed more than it concealed. Poor Neil had nearly committed murder seven times over as strangers tried it on with her. He simmered and glowered in their direction, so I elbowed him.

“Aren’t you going to dance with Gloria at all tonight?”

I could see him clenching his jaw in frustration. “No. She told me not to.”

“Why?” I queried in confusion. “Why are you guys keeping it such a big secret?”

He took another swallow of his beer before saying, “I guess she doesn’t want to be seen as an easy lay.”

I shook my head at the convoluted thinking of females. “Well, is she? Is she an easy lay?”

Neil glared at me with true anger. “Fuck off, Hank Woods! That’s my girlfriend that you’re talking about with your dirty mouth. She’s the sweetest angel that ever walked this earth, and your friend the doctor better hope that his hands don’t stray any lower or else he may need some help pissing in the near future.”

I choked on my beer at Neil’s vehemence and snuck a look at Elliot’s hands. They were a very respectable distance from Gloria’s derriere—thank goodness—and Ell and Gloria appeared to be chatting like friends, not with lustful intent. I shook my head at Neil.

“Mate, if she’s your girlfriend, then go the fuck over there and grab her and kiss her and tell every single guy in the vicinity that she belongs to you. If she’s your girlfriend, then there’s no reason anyone would think her easy, so you don’t have to keep it hush-hush anymore. There’s no pride in one night stands.” And didn’t I know that! “So, I get that she didn’t want it broadcast until she knew you were serious. But you’re giving yourself an ulcer and having the crappiest of times because you
are
serious about her. So if you’re not going to screw her and leave, then get your fat arse over there and claim her.”

To my exasperation, Neil glowered some more and refused to budge. I ignored him as the band finished up a song, hoping that he’d do something other than just stew all night. I whistled loudly while the crowd clapped their appreciation.

“You having a g-good time?” Middy asked from my other side.

“Yeah,” I answered. “It’s good to get out of the house. Friends, beer, music—what more could a guy ask for?”

“A warm b-bed partner?” Middy suggested, and my mind flew immediately to the night I’d cuddled Quackle in my bed. That had been warm. That had been nice. That had me wishing for a repeat.
No fishing, Hank!

Before I could answer, Gavin was back after being spurned by his target. “Here,” he said as he handed us fresh bottles of beer. “I struck out before I could get to first base, so I’m drowning my sorrows.”

We sympathized as we drank, and a song later, Elliot materialized at my side. “Hey, Quackle,” I smiled at him, telling myself I wasn’t jealous at him dancing with Gloria. “When’s the wedding?”

“Wedding?” he asked in confusion.

“You and Gloria,” I pointed out. “I saw you both being really chummy with each other, and you danced at least two dances with her.”

“I thought it was three,” Middy put in.

“Three’s practically a wedding out here,” Gavin agreed. We were totally shitting him, but he turned pale anyway. The others nodded.

“I was just being friendly!” he protested.

“Friends make the best lovers,” Gavin said, grinning madly.

“I reckon Gloria’s th-thinking up table arrangements as we speak,” Middy declared solemnly.

“I hope you don’t put the wedding on Grand Final day,” Gavin said.

“No,” Middy objected. “It’s too c-close to harvesting, and Gloria knows that. Maybe February would be a good choice.”

“They could rent the hall in town,” I suggested without looking at Elliot. Neil was practically vibrating with fury by this time, and Elliot was beginning to get worried. I chuckled and silently congratulated myself on my ability to sucker punch two friends at once. “Do you reckon your folks would come across, Ell? They could stay at the hotel. There’s rooms above the pub they could rent for a couple of days, if they didn’t want to stay with you. Gloria’s folks own a spread a little way out of Nippering. I’m sure they could put them up too.”

That did it. Neil exploded. “There’ll be no fucking wedding!” He thrust his beer at me and stalked off, hopefully to find his girlfriend.

“That wasn’t nice,” chided Elliot at my side. “Were you trying to wind me up or Neil?”

“Both,” I grinned unrepentantly.

“Arse,” he muttered, but smiled shyly at me. Suddenly all was right with my world. With contentment, I watched the band play.

The night wore on and Gavin found someone else to pursue. As soon as he was out of sight, the woman with the bright yellow top reappeared once again. My heart sank as she made eye contact with me and gave me a flirtatious smile. How was I going to handle this one?

Middy noticed too.

“Look out, Hank. I think she w-wants to talk b-baseball with you. Gavin may’ve struck out, but I have a f-feeling that her pitcher is throwing you a nice slow ball.”

I was a fisherman who didn’t like baseball, but how could I tell my best mate that?

“I dunno, Mid. You can have a go if you want?”

Middy was giving me a sideways glance that I couldn’t decipher, almost as if he were stringing me a line, just like we’d done to Elliot. “She’s pretty. She’s hot. I reckon you could have a homerun there, Hank.”

I tried to bluff. “You go for it, Middy.”

“Nah. I don’t think she wants me.” He shook his head at me. “Besides, I was hoping I’d see Janice h-here tonight, and if she turns up, the l-l-last thing I’d want to be doing is dancing with a cute girl.”

Janice Tozer was about as shy as Middy. The two of them had been making eyes at each other for about eight months, but neither seemed to find the courage to voice their interest. It was sometimes painful to watch.

But not as painful as it would be to pretend to be into that nice girl.

“She seems to like you,” Elliot chuckled as he returned with fresh beers for us all. I tried to glare at him, since he was the one person who
knew
I was never going to throw a baited hook in her direction.

Middy nodded. “Yep. I reckon she has the hots f-for our Hank.”

“I reckon she does,” Elliot agreed.

“But d-does our Hank have the hots for her?” Middy asked as if he was pondering the question of life out loud.

Elliot snorted. “I can’t see why not. That girl is very nice. Wouldn’t everyone have the hots for her?”

I ground my teeth in frustration. I was going to thump someone if they weren’t careful. Middy was stroking his chin in a thoughtful manner. “Of course, the only female I’ve seen Hank really go for is that sheep of his.”

Elliot burst out laughing, and that was it. I made a fist as I roared with mock anger, and raced for my best friend. He chuckled and ducked behind Elliot for protection. I tried to reach him but was distracted by a cry that went up from the crowd. Cat calls and wolf whistles were coming from an area to the north of us, and I stopped to look at what was going on, straining to see over the tops of heads. Between the crush of bodies, I could see Neil. He had Gloria bent backward over his arm while he kissed her passionately. Gloria responded by throwing her arms around Neil and kissing him back.

“What’s happening?” Elliot asked.

“Looks like your bride has dumped you, Quackle,” I said.

“Oh, thank goodness,” he responded with a fake swipe at his brow. “I look terrible in a tuxedo.”

Our eyes met in the darkness, and I’m pretty sure mine were telegraphing to Elliot what I couldn’t say out loud; I didn’t think that he would look terrible in a tuxedo at all. Anything he would wear would be just fine with me. I was sure he would be able to make any set of clothes look great.