He had smiled?
‘I don’t expect you to set the table.’ Under the circumstances, it was the least she could do.
‘I’ve always done it.’
‘Not this evening, it’s already done.’
He opened the white carved doors and looked out into the dusk.
‘Better ring that thing again.’
Ivy obliged and followed Adam into the dining room, where she had set out meat and gravy, mashed potatoes and corn on the cob—what the horse hadn’t eaten, anyway—and she saw his look of surprise and something like pleasure.
‘What’s for tea?’ Jack asked, wiping his boots on the mat.
‘Slow-cooked roast beef and Coca Cola gravy. They cook it in America.’
Jack’s brows rose, then he shrugged and sat down. Looking at the chunked meat surrounded by gravy, Ivy didn’t think the thought bothered him at all.
‘I love American cooking, especially McDonalds.’
He awkwardly dodged a clout from one of the other stockmen coming in. RJ guffawed as he pulled up a chair. ‘That’s just fast food, you idiot.’
RJ seemed to have a way with words. Obviously none of the men saw it as an insult because they all laughed, though Jack’s smile was accompanied by a quick glance in Ivy’s direction.
RJ dug into the meat and grinned, ‘Steak and Coke. I don’t care if the caffeine keeps me up all night.’ He turned to Adam, his mouth so full it took a moment for Adam to make out what he said. ‘Checked on Dusty like you asked. He’s not good, boss. Don’t like to see him like that.’
‘I’m not going to leave him alone.’ Adam skewered steak on the fork only to set it back down. He put down his table napkin and stood.
Ivy swallowed, looking up, ‘You haven’t eaten dinner yet.’
‘Sorry. If there’re any leftovers, I’ll grab something later.’
Ivy glanced at Adam’s serving, heard the latticed door close after him, then heaped a little more on his plate before she took it back to the kitchen to keep it warm in the oven.
‘Best dinner I’ve ever had.’ RJ wiped butter and corn kernel from his chin with the back of his hand. ‘Been so long since we had a decent cook. I hate cooking, and all you mongrels are the pits.’
‘You all cook?’ Ivy wiped her mouth.
‘We’ve been taking it in turns. Jack’s the worst.’ RJ grinned, and balled his napkin to throw at the young ringer.
‘What happened to the cook?’ Ivy was curious.
‘She left out of the blue. Left us without a care whether we’d get on okay or not. Reckon Adam’s still waiting for her to come back.’ RJ laughed at a joke only they seemed to understand.
Ivy picked up her plate. Jack stood and helped her gather the serving dishes.
‘I would have thought there would have been lots of cooks willing to take up the position?’ she mused out loud.
‘Not the one he was after,’ RJ told her pointedly.
‘We don’t need one now you’re here.’ Jack grinned.
‘I pass the test then?’
‘We give your gravy a thumbs-up.’ RJ nudged Jack in the ribs and Ivy wondered whose blush was brighter, hers or Jack’s. She wondered who this other cook had been. And why Adam was after having her back again.
Ivy looked down at the dishes. It wasn’t what she had expected. Now here she was acting as mum to these cowboys. At least that was how it felt. She sighed as Jack stacked the dishes. She took them away and sunk them beneath the suds. Could this task be counted as an adventure when she had planned to be under a blanketing sky, embers flying up into the night? She should have known that for such a dream she’d need to have some pretty good horse riding skills. Riding was harder than she remembered. It had hurt when she hit the ground.
She knew she was more than capable of filling the role of cook. It seemed Adam would be pleased enough if he liked what she dished up. Sure, she was disappointed. There had been so many heartaches and she had determined not to fail anymore. But if there was a place here for her, even in the kitchen, maybe she could see that as a good thing. Maybe it didn’t matter what her job description was. She was still here, wasn’t she? He hadn’t sent her home. She congratulated herself on one job well done.
There was time to ponder it as she and Jack washed and wiped the crockery, and later, when she was alone in the big station house.
Adam hadn’t returned from the stables. His meal sat in the oven, doubtless forgotten. He needed to eat. She headed outside carrying the still-warm meal on a tray.
Chapter Ten
The clouds were illuminated—a flock around a bright moon. The paddocks seemed to stretch out into the distance, a rolling quilt of quiet shadows. As she walked away from the fluorescent brightness, Ivy stopped to breathe in the earth.
In the corner of the stables shone a stark and lonely light. She stood at the threshold, indecisive. A noise prompted her forward and she stepped into the light.
Adam was sitting, head in hand. His other hand rested on the neck of the horse lying fitfully beside him. The animal was covered in a sheen. When Adam turned to look at her, Ivy wasn’t prepared for the despair that met her eyes. And the vulnerability. Guilt hit hard.
‘You need to eat something. Your dinner is still warm.’
‘Thanks, but I don’t think I’m hungry.’
‘Tell that to your innards. I could hear your stomach growling the moment I walked in the door.’ She gave him a hopeful smile.
‘Maybe it was Dusty’s.’ His own smile was sorrowful.
Her fault. All her fault. Ivy bit her lip and looked down at the food she’d cooked for him. She blinked at her efforts and felt silly. She took a breath and tried again.
‘If you don’t sit down and have this meal, you won’t believe the guys when they tell you what you missed out on.’
‘You have a point.’ Adam stood and, taking a backward glance at the suffering gelding, followed Ivy to the bench table that ran the length of the corrugated iron shed.
Adam took the cutlery from her and speared some meat. He loaded his fork with potato and gravy. He gave a long, slow shake of his head, then looked up at her in surprise.
‘So, how about that job?’
‘You’re not waiting for the other cook to return?’
Adam glanced up. His laugh was short. ‘No, I’m not.’
In that moment, Ivy’s heart shifted, and a tiny patch of healing happened right there. That little girl from pony club grew an inch taller.
Adam had been blunt about her total lack of horse-riding experience when she’d first arrived. Ivy hadn’t liked it one bit. She only wished she could explain what had spurred her impulsive decision to lie to him as a potential employer, but how could she? Ivy barely understood it herself. Now here she was responsible for his sick and sorry horse, when she had just wanted to do one darned thing right in her life. Yet although Adam had every reason to throw resentment her way, he gave her a smile and a level stare. She didn’t see any bitterness there and Ivy was grateful for it. She dared to hope that his kindness meant acceptance.
He looked at her for a long moment. Ivy answered his smile in turn.
‘I saw a coffee maker at the back of the pantry. I was going to make some if you’d like me to bring you out a cup. That’s if you’re going to hang out here for a while?’
Adam turned to the gelding. ‘I’ll be staying right here. So yeah, I could do with a coffee. That sounds nice. Thanks.’
Ivy turned her head and glanced back. Adam was watching her again. She opened her mouth to speak. To apologise. To say sorry that she hadn’t closed the gate. But there was something in his look that said he didn’t have his mind on blaming her at all. She walked away to make coffee instead.
She dragged the grinder and coffee machine out and wiped off the dust. The coffee beans in the fridge were sealed, and signs of spills
on the package showed that’s where they had sat for some time. But the beans gave up a strong aroma when she ground them.
She hadn’t asked Adam how he drank his coffee. She had already taken note. She had also seen that he drank instant roast, but not tonight. She didn’t bother to shake the cream through the milk as she opened the bottle. The cream slid thickly into the coffee, to float in a cloud on the top.
As she walked down the back steps and into the night once more, a balmy breeze blew across the night-scape. Crickets stopped their noise as she passed them, and from the shed came the sound of Adam’s horse in torment. Ivy almost turned back.
Adam sat, head in hands still. Beside him, Dusty groaned. Saliva now rimmed the horse’s mouth.
‘He’s got a fever.’ Adam’s tone fell heavy. He hugged his hands around the coffee mug and drank gratefully.
‘Can’t you get a vet to come?’
‘I finally got hold of the one on call, but he’s hours away with the block and tackle out to help a labouring cow.’
‘What else can you do?’
‘I tried to make him drink and had to tube him at the end. I gave him some mineral oil. I walked him until he collapsed. There’s no getting him up now.’
There had to be something, some way to help the horse. Ivy could hardly believe that it was a hopeless case.
There was the noise of a car’s engine and then the glow of lights at the shed door.
‘The vet’s arrived.’ Ivy’s smile was as bright as the headlights outside. Her face was hopeful.
Adam peered out then shook his head. ‘No, it’s my mum and dad.’
A man walked stiffly over to where she and Adam stood. He looked at Ivy and shook his head at his son. ‘What’s she doing back?’
‘Dad!’ Adam threw his arms up.
An elderly woman put a hand on her husband’s arm, glared at him, then looked Ivy’s way. ‘I’m sorry, dear. Trevor isn’t himself at times. My name is Grace.’
‘How do you do?’ Ivy made an effort to smile.
Adam’s thumbs were looped over his belt. ‘Dad, Ivy came here to work.’
‘Oh, I see. I thought you were someone else.’ Adam’s dad shook his head, shuffled his feet. As though in his forgetfulness he had embarrassed himself.
‘She’s from Sydney, Dad.’
‘Stone the crows … Long way to come.’ Adam’s dad tried to right his rudeness, attempting conversation.
‘Dad, have you come here about the horse?’
‘What horse?’
‘Trevor, you know we came here about Dusty.’ Now Grace shook her head. She seemed embarrassed. Her husband frowned at her, stood a little straighter. ‘Yes, of course I know Dusty,’ he blustered. ‘Kind of question is that? Bought him for Adam, didn’t I, mate?’
‘Yeah, Dad, you did. Come and take a look at him, can you?’
Ivy hung back. Would Adam mention that it was her who had inadvertently poisoned the treasured horse? She watched as his father followed Adam into the stall. They checked Dusty over in silence.
Grace explained quietly, ‘Trevor has forgetful moments. Sometimes at the most inconvenient times. Please forgive him if he is a little gruff.’
‘Of course. Don’t mention it.’ Ivy could see such a quiet determination in how Grace held herself, though it must be so painful.
‘He was good on the way out here, and that’s why I decided we could drive out,’ Grace continued. ‘Trevor wanted to come and see Adam, but I shouldn’t have let him drive.’
‘It’s okay. Don’t worry. There’s been no harm done. I’m sure Adam appreciates being able to talk to his father about it.’
Adam’s father called out from the door, ‘Good night, son. I’m going up to bed. We’ll let Adam sort this out.’
‘But we’ve only just got here. The car is here, Trevor. We don’t need to stay the night. We’ll go home.’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘But we drove the car here.’
Grace’s voice was calm, but Ivy had an idea just how frustrated Grace was.
‘Whose car?’
‘Our car, Trevor. Remember? It’s right outside.’
‘Our car is a Ford.’ He squinted at the car with doubt.
Grace sighed. ‘We used to own a Ford. Now we own a Holden.’
‘I’m not getting in someone else’s car!’ Trevor argued, apparently appalled.
‘Dad, you live at The Grove now,’ Adam began.
Adam’s dad swung around. His face wore anger like a bashed-up bumper bar.
‘Trying to make out I don’t know my own home!’ Trevor O’Rourke’s voice was a rusty shout. ‘Who are you to tell me what to do?’
‘I’m your son,’ Adam growled.
‘Adam wouldn’t speak to me like that. He’s a quiet, respectful boy.’
Grace spoke over the top of them. ‘Trevor, Adam, that’s enough!’
‘I won’t have this bloke tell me what to do.’ Scorn foamed at the corners of Trevor’s mouth.
Adam said, ‘You came here to look at the horse.’
Trevor looked confused. He looked at each of them in turn, then mumbled, ‘I’m going to bed.’
They all watched as Trevor O’Rourke marched out of the shed. They followed at a distance as he climbed the stairs to the porch.
‘Take my room, Mum. That’s probably where he’ll head anyway. I’ll sleep on the couch.’ Adam put an arm around his mother.
‘We were silly to come. I thought your father would be all right. He was as good as gold. He even remembered the way out here.’
‘You can’t let him drive anywhere now, Mum. It’s not safe.’ His mother nodded. ‘It’s okay, Mum. You go on up. I think there are a couple of spare toothbrushes in the bathroom. You’ll find anything else you need.’
The strength Grace had shown moments before, melted. She turned to Adam, putting her head on his chest.
‘Come on. I’ll take you up to my room. Better you stay here for the night, anyway. It’s too big a journey. You can leave after breakfast tomorrow.’ He turned to Ivy. ‘I’m really sorry. The Alzheimer’s often makes Dad forget himself.’
Ivy gave him a smile and nodded. ‘It’s okay. It must be tough.’
They went inside and Ivy glimpsed Adam’s room. Comfort stretched only as far as the nonchalance of the crumpled coverlet, hanging limply to the floor.
Grace was looking down at her husband sprawled out on the bed, fast asleep. Her glance met her son’s, before he noiselessly closed the door on her with a sad smile of goodnight.
Adam turned to Ivy. ‘It’s late. Why don’t you get some sleep?’
‘What about you?’
‘I’ll get my head down soon. Just want to check on Dusty again first.’
Ivy watched as he descended the stairs, putting aside his need for sleep. He looked up and met her eye with a wavering smile of fatigue.
Undressing, she readied herself for bed. She pulled the sheet up to cover her shoulders and closed her eyes. Just as sleep came to meet her, Ivy’s eyes flew open as a single gunshot rang out.
She jumped up and hurried out of her room, through the big hollow station house and down the stairs, to the stark light of the shed.
Adam stood over Dusty, his head hanging low. The hand that held the gun limp at his side.
Adam turned, his eyes glimmering like pools of water after rain. He held out the firearm to her.
‘Take it from me, will you?’
Ivy took the weapon. She had never held a gun before. It had more weight than she’d expected. She placed it down respectfully and stepped away.
Adam saw the concern on her face. ‘It looks like a brown snake and it’s just as lethal, but it’s not cocked and loaded.’
She didn’t know what to say; how to console him. Ivy trie
d, ‘There was nothing else you could do, so you did the only thing left. I’m sorry, Adam. I’m very sorry, really I am. I don’t know what else to say.’ Ivy put out a hand and tentatively touched his arm, as if he might snap and bite.
When he turned to her it looked as though all the fight had left him. He smiled at her—and its bitter twist appeared like it had been there for a while.
Chapter Eleven
Adam chose a bridle from the tack room. He took down a breast plate only to see Dusty’s saddle. The lingering smell of his horse was a painful reminder. He was left now with only the memory of clipped hooves on concrete and a grassy nuzzle at his neck.
Adam turned from the saddle and chose another one. It was less comfortable, but it wasn’t Dusty’s.
Riding Lipstick would be a gamble. Breaking her in had punished his patience. And although Lipstick was only a two-year old, she carried on like some giddy teenager at a school disco in heels. She was drama on four feet with good looks and bad attitude.
Jack had groomed her until she was all gloss. Her coat shone like new copper plumbing. When Adam came out of the tack room, she scooted sideways, spooked by the jingle of brass and leather. Adam shook his head. Lipstick eyed him suspiciously, watching his approach as though she intended to meet trouble. Adam questioned the sense in bringing the taffy along for the muster. He just didn’t have the patience to put up with her nonsense. Or anyone else’s for that matter.
‘She’s flighty this morning, boss,’ Jack said.
‘Let her dance. She’ll soon tire of it when she realises she won’t be calling the tune.’ Adam lifted the bridle over the filly’s head. She took umbrage and skittered back. He held the lead rope with a firm hand and tried again. She shook her head and a blonde forelock fell over one eye. She blinked at him through the hair. He was reminded of Ivy and stood there for a moment in thought.
Days with his dad came back to him now. The times they’d taken out together were part of the distant past. Like seasonal grass that withered and blew away against the wind, and Adam wished he could bring it back on days like this. That they could ride the miles together, just like way back when.
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