She was making a racket. She was fast asleep, and she was snoring as loud as a train whistling down the North Coast Railway track. He hadn’t thought that a woman could snore like that. He wasn’t sure if he was disturbed or impressed.
There was a distinct odour of something like paint thinners wafting from the room. He didn’t know if she had spilled the stuff, but he hoped for her sake she had the window sash wide. She’d certainly be fumigated come morning.
Adam closed the door and retraced his steps back to the telephone.
‘Sorry, but she’s not available right now.’
‘Working hard, is she?’ He heard the smile in the woman’s voice.
‘That’s for sure, she’s going at it like a locomotive.’ His tone was at odds with his words, he knew. So did Ivy’s mum. She made a curious sound.
‘When would be the best time to call again?’ Cynthia asked.
‘In the morning.’
He knew he shouldn’t have been so uncivil, but he’d never meet the woman, so what could it matter? Still, it didn’t mean she had to hang up on him. He hadn’t been that rude. How would she like being woken from sleep? Manual labour made a bloke want to park up early. He didn’t spend his days at a computer desk.
Adam passed Ivy’s bedroom and could hear her snoring on the other side of the wall. He closed his own door, yanked off his jeans and threw himself down. Covering himself with the blanket that usually remained folded at the foot of the bed, he ground his teeth at the disruption that Ivy’s loud breathing was causing him. Then he pushed the pillow back over his face and eventually found sleep.
Chapter Six
Adam stood in the paddock, leaning against the old post and rail fence. He stared out at the vastness of the dusty station, all the colours softened by the early morning haze. Without another soul around for miles, here was a limitless sky. Then like a silent and solitary bird, the sunrise would soar up and leave an immensity of blue. This was his place—his time. He gathered air into his lungs and slowly exhaled.
Sometimes he would saddle up and ride. Just ride. When there was nothing crying for his immediate attention, he would go to the tack room, take bridle, reins and stock saddle and head out. Fifteen thousand acres of Queensland’s heart, Adam experienced infinite peace on Dusty’s back. A man didn’t need to talk, didn’t need to think, merely disappear for as long as he needed, without fear of interruption.
No chance of any solitude today.
Adam’s head shot up at the sound of another clang. ‘Don’t tell me Rosy or Daisy’s into the feed drum.’ He wouldn’t be surprised. The milkers loved to down lucerne like kids scoff Weet-Bix at breakfast time.
Maybe Jack was with them in the dairy.
The young jackaroo was keen, knew when to talk and mostly when to listen. But it was a good thing that Ivy was leaving today. Adam had noticed that when she sauntered past, swinging that hair over her shoulder and smelling like a paddock full of clover, young Jack had started to show off and try to win her attention. Better for Jack to stay clear of women like that. They’d inevitably break his young heart. Adam would give him that piece of advice one day.
Adam walked into the milking shed to see Ivy. She had the cow baled up. The Jersey was breathing steadily as she ate hay at the feed trough beneath her nose. But Ivy had a bucket of steaming soapy water and was giving the cow a sponge bath.
Adam’s mouth dropped open as he stood staring. And then came the first strains of a song.
Adam groaned aloud, putting his face in his hands. He looked up as Ivy spun around.
‘You said I could wash her when I milked her,’ Ivy defended herself, seeing that he was not at all happy. ‘Jack showed me where the car shampoo was. It’s only a mild solution, so it shouldn’t strip the acid mantle of her skin.’
The acid what?
She had to be kidding. Adam took a deep breath, reining himself in, just as young Jack strode through the door all puffed up.
Adam saw red.
‘G’day, boss,’ Jack grinned widely. The dog-legged smile cocked and fell soon enough.
‘Outside,’ Adam pointed.
Jack nodded. His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. The young fella darted a quick glance at Ivy, probably hoping that she wouldn’t be aware of the mouthful he knew he was going to get.
‘What are you playing at?’ Adam demanded.
Jack either seemed to think it was the best idea to keep his mouth closed, or was finding some conscience, albeit too late.
‘I asked you what you think you’re doing?’
‘It was my turn to do the milking but Ivy came in and said she would help. She said you told her that she could wash the cows beforehand.’
‘And you thought I meant it?’
Jack shrugged apologetically. ‘Now I think about it, boss, you’d never waste time on such an idea.’
‘Yet you run here, there and everywhere without one thought in your head but to please her. Where are your brains, Jack? You ought to know better than that, mate.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Jack’s voice chose this inopportune moment to embarrass him with a squeak. The young bloke cleared his throat.
It wasn’t Jack’s fault. He wasn’t the first fella to fall for a pretty woman, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last.
‘Have you milked Daisy?’
‘Yeah, milk’s in the cool room already strained.’ Jack hung his head a little. Adam softened towards the kid.
‘Go in for breakfast.’
Adam turned towards the milking shed. The building was silent.
She had stopped singing; he wondered what there was to pipe about anyway. But she was humming some tune he hadn’t heard before. He watched her wash the cow’s udder, screwing up her face as she did.
There were suds everywhere. Brown and foaming, they pooled at the Jersey’s wet shining hooves. Rosy had run out of hay, and Ivy hadn’t even begun on the task of milking that she should have well in hand by now.
Adam watched as Ivy sat down and began to coax, talking to the cow in a calming tone like the animal might rear up and kick out at any time. Adam allowed himself a fleeting smile as he listened to the one-sided conversation between Ivy and herself. He had often found himself doing just the same thing. He realised just how ridiculous it sounded.
He was grudgingly impressed as he heard jets of milk spray into the stainless-steel bucket. Adam exhaled and felt his shoulders drop. His lips quirked but he caught himself just in time.
‘I forgot the back brace you need to wear,’ she said. ‘Now you just stay nice and still, Rosy girl, and we’ll get along like a house on fire.’
Last thing I need.
Ivy reached for the kicking clamp and warily tried to fit it. The cow looked around to its back end, and at Ivy as she fumbled. Adam knew the cow was reminding Ivy that the feed drum was empty. Ivy looked up and saw the problem.
‘Oh, now you’ve got no grass,’ Ivy complained.
She went over to grab a biscuit, and the cow, anticipating more food, put a leg forward and knocked over the bucket. Milk and brown suds puddled at the animal’s hooves, and Ivy didn’t know what to grab at first, the hay, the bucket, or the kicking clamp she hadn’t adjusted correctly.
Ivy fought to adjust the implement. She asked the cow how it was meant to be done. But Rosy had started on the second round of hay and had eyes and ears for nothing else. Then, to add insult to injury, because Rosy was not used to such a large amount of fodder at milking time, she lifted her tail and defecated. Adam grinned, enjoying every moment as Ivy watched each deposit as it splattered on the floor.
‘Just as well it’s a concrete floor,’ Adam mused.
Ivy looked up and blushed hotly before continuing to adjust the clamp in front of the Jersey’s hips, trying to push it into a snug fit without slipping.
�
��Here, I’ll do it.’
‘I can manage,’ Ivy assured him.
He shook his head. ‘Give it to me and let me show you. Then you can go and rinse out the bucket.’
Ivy did as she was asked, coming back to sit down again without another word. Adam stood behind her and watched. He hunkered down.
‘Just like you did yesterday. Remember?’
Ivy nodded, smiling as though his words pleased her.
‘I heard you a minute ago and you were doing just fine.’ Adam put either hand over hers, squeezing the milk from the bags, teaching her once more on the rhythm and method.
Ivy glanced at him. ‘Pretend I’m not here,’ he murmured.
Yet Adam found that he was acutely aware of her closeness. Her fragrance was like flowers out in the paddock after rain. Or maybe fresh-cut grass. Adam breathed it in, watching her hands around the cow’s udder, her fine-boned wrists. And then the fingernails that now looked like nothing but concrete chipped off a footpath. He stared at them and frowned.
Ivy looked up. Her cheeks were pink.
‘What’s wrong?’ She sounded breathless.
‘Let me see them.’
‘See what?’ she asked offhandedly.
‘Your nails.’
She held them out for a moment before hiding them around the safety of the warm udder.
‘They look better that way,’
Ivy looked at him. ‘I doubt it, I really do.’
‘They’re practical,’ he corrected himself.
Adam stood up and walked to the door. ‘When the stream of milk dwindles, and you can’t get anything else out, you just go on to the next two teats. When you’re finished it should be about an inch from the top of the bucket.’
‘Just like yesterday.’
Adam nodded. ‘Just like yesterday.’
Ivy looked up as though she wanted to say something.
He hadn’t asked if her luggage was packed. He hadn’t asked if she was ready to leave. And here she was making an effort to milk the cow. Was she hoping it would sway his decision for her to pack up and go? He knew he should put her bags in the ute before he could think about it too much. A two-hour drive to the airport would be less of an inconvenience than a summer season checking himself at every turn. Last thing he needed was to get sidetracked by a beautiful girl.
He would saddle up Dusty. Breakfast could wait. As he mounted, he expected to hear Ivy start up another tune from some bygone era that he would never have expected from a city girl, but from his position, the dairy was blissfully quiet.
As he settled himself in the seat of the saddle, the comforting smell of leather in his nostrils, Adam recollected Ivy’s hands. The short, butchered fingernails, rough and chipped.
He smiled.
A flock of noisy cockatoos flew overhead, and he was strangely humbled at the attempt she had made to show him her determination, her concession to practicality. He was more than a little impressed—although he hadn’t come out and said so—and he knew he didn’t have the heart to put her on an aeroplane and watch it disappear into the open blue of the sky.
Chapter Seven
‘One of the most important jobs on a station is the water run. You’ll have to go around to all the water points and check that both the tank and trough are full. And you’ll need to clean the troughs. If you find any dead birds in there, then fish them out.’ Adam walked up and pointed to a buggy.
‘Have you ridden a quad before?’
‘No.’
Adam frowned.
Ivy looked at Adam apologetically as he took a moment to digest the fact. Ivy turned her head to the thing: it looked safer than the horse that had shaken her off its back. Adam scratched the back of his head and let out a long sighing breath.
‘Can you drive a car?’
‘Yes, I can drive.’
He gestured to the quad bike.
‘What about a manual? Do you know how to drive one of those?’
‘Sure do.’ This seemed to please him.
‘Great, well this is no different. Come and let me show you. Your throttle is on the right, along with your front brake.’ He demonstrated. ‘Your rear brake is at your right foot, as well as your left hand. Now on your left foot is the transmission. To change gears, all you have to do is lift up your left foot up for higher speed, or down for lower speed. The quad has a centrifugal clutch.’
Whatever that meant.
‘See, too easy. Now, why don’t you take it for a run?’
‘You sure, boss?’
He seemed to hesitate at the title. ‘Why not? Just remember not to panic. When you give it some throttle, your elbow’s down. All you have to do is roll down to ease off on the gas. Only, you don’t need to call me boss. Adam will be fine.’
‘The men call you boss.’
‘Yeah, well …’
Perhaps the hard-hoofed cowman was softer than he first appeared. Ivy shook off the thought. It wasn’t likely.
The lesson was interrupted by a shout from the house. Adam walked closer to find out what was going on. Ivy couldn’t make out what the stockman said, but Adam abruptly changed direction and hurried towards the kitchen garden.
‘It’s Dusty,’ Adam called back over his shoulder.
‘I’ll say.’ She slapped at the dirt on her jeans.
‘I’m talking about the horse,’ he yelled as he broke into a run.
Ivy looked at his retreating back with a question on her lips as he kicked up the dirt. She stood in the empty paddock feeling like a hitchhiker on a lonely road without a ride home. A few flies attached themselves to her face as she walked towards the men in the garden.
A couple of stockmen stood around Adam. He was bent over his horse. The animal was down, pawing the ground. It had rolled onto its side and was drawing up its hooves. Adam pulled off his Akubra to draw a hand through the waves of his hair.
‘What’s he had?’ Adam looked up at Jack.
‘I don’t know, boss. I just saw him then.’
‘Jack, you were meant to feed and stable him last night.’
The jackaroo’s mouth fell open at the reminder. ‘Sorry boss. I forgot.’
‘So I’ve got a hungry gelding, just wandering around the dust bowl surrounding this house all night, looking for something to eat. I bet you didn’t forget to eat your dinner?’
Jack just lowered his gaze.
‘I’d ridden him most of the day. He would have been starving, and I’d left the chore of feeding him to you. Not like he can get out and get a pick at the grass, because the paddocks are fenced off, so what did he get to eat?’ Adam demanded, searching their faces, one by one.
The jackaroo looked up at Ivy, and then it hit her. She glanced at the open garden gate. The one she had left unlatched. She knew that it was her fault without understanding why.
It had been peaceful in the garden with its rows of overgrown flowers that flanked the back of the station house. Given that protection, and doubtless watered by overfilled buckets at times when someone had forgotten to turn the tap off, the flowers hadn’t just survived, but thrived. They were a frame around the unsightly big gal water tanks.
A balmy night had settled over the station and she had stood under the moonlight as a gentle wind stirred the fragrance of flowers and earth. She had taken a watering can to the foliage, calmed by the sound as water showered down on flowers and leaves.
Now Ivy noticed the pink baling twine on the ground by the fence. She had forgotten to tie the loose latch up. Too late, the reminder lay on the ground to point out her culpability. She stooped quickly to pick it up and balled it in her damp fist. Adam looked at her without a word.
He demanded of them all as he rose, ‘What on earth has he done?’ He strode around the corner of the sprawling Queenslander. They all followed, but Ivy trailed a few paces
behind.
‘Oh my …’ Adam let fall his hat. Then he dropped a whole knife block of cutting words aimed at anyone within reach. He flashed a glance around and Ivy shied, avoiding his look. She gazed down instead at what the horse had done.
Only some of the hedge had been groomed. Some plants had been trodden on, while some shrubs were snapped, and quite a few had been clipped. Hoof holes gouged the dry beds. The horse had tried a bit of everything, from bracken fern to hydrangeas, but seemed he had preferred the white azalea flowers best. It was those that caught Adam’s attention. A few flowered, white and frilly, but the horse had cropped the garden as thoroughly as a gardener with the Christmas gift of a hedge trimmer.
‘Horse must have been pretty hungry,’ one of the men said.
‘Guess they won’t need pruning,’ Ivy ventured quietly. Adam turned to her with a sharp look.
‘They’re azaleas. They give horses colic. More often than not, a horse will die if it eats too much.’
‘Most horses wouldn’t touch them,’ the same guy said. ‘Unless they were really hungry, that is.’
‘Well, this horse came for the all-you-can-eat.’ Adam massaged the back of his neck distractedly.
Ivy spoke up. ‘I’m sorry.’ It came out as a whisper. She cleared her throat but didn’t like her chances of saying it again. Ivy bit her lip as she scrunched the baling twine. She silently scolded her forgetfulness, wished she could go back and do it right a second time. She wanted to prove herself to him, more than he could know.
‘You need to remember to close the gate. That’s always the first rule at any place.’
The men looked at her expectantly.
Her neck and face burned as she mumbled. ‘Why grow them if they’re poisonous?’
‘I wasn’t the one who planted them!’ Adam railed. ‘And I should have dug them out ages ago.’
‘Then why didn’t you?’ Ivy was tentative. Sorrier than she could begin to explain. But dangerous plants that had no place near horses? It made no sense.
Central to Nowhere Page 3