Central to Nowhere

by D. J. Blackmore

  He had always liked working with stock. It was peaceful. It was living simply, and he didn’t care what anyone else did on their own land, he believed that cattle worked better with horses than helicopters and motorbikes. The animals were calmer, more at ease, and Adam had long ago realised that he was, too.

  He could ride for miles, listening to all the sounds that would only be drowned out by the crack of a throttle and the drone of a four-stroke. A quad bike could be about as dangerous as a horse, with the wrong hands on the handle bars. Adam liked his dirt bike, but he preferred to separate horsepower from horseflesh. He didn’t own a chopper licence, anyway.

  His eyes scanned the horizon beyond the brim of his hat. Back a bit from the tree belt, a big, bouldered gully wound through she-oaks, and sometimes rain would rush from the mount. Then the place would turn into a resort-sized pool for birds.

  Right now, the only long-legged birds were the emus ranging way beyond the dust of Lippy’s dancing hooves. The gallop of the flightless emu would probably prove more reliable than this filly who shied at anything that moved.

  ‘You just about ready to go, boss?’ RJ asked.

  ‘Just about, mate. I’ll be back out in a moment, but first I need to do something.’

  He took the reins, put one foot in the stirrup and hoisted up onto the saddle. Lipstick lay her ears flat and sashayed. Adam ran a slow hand along her neck. She would be fine with the cattle. She was used to being around them. She just needed to learn to trust him and understand he wasn’t a threat. He rode to the house and pulled up out the front.

  He hitched Lippy to the post and walked up the stairs. Ivy was pouring milk into wide-mouthed glass bottles. She swung around to where he stood in the doorway.

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right to stay?’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘If you need anything call my mum. She can leave Dad with someone, so don’t hesitate. I’ve left the calves to run with their mothers, so you won’t have to worry about milking them. All you’ve got to do is house-sit for a week.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. There’s heaps that needs attention.’

  ‘Sure, that would be a great hand. I’d appreciate anything you think needs doing.’

  Adam hesitated, glanced down at his boots. ‘For as long as you’re here, the station is your place, too.’ He wasn’t about to mention Dusty. Didn’t need to bring that up again.

  He saw it in her eyes anyway. Her smile was grateful and she nodded her understanding.

  You’re going soft, mate.

  He cleared his throat. It wasn’t just her fault, it was Jack’s. She couldn’t be blamed for all of it. ‘Come and I’ll show you my new horse.’

  ‘You’ve bought another one?’

  ‘Nah, I won this one in a charity raffle, believe it or not. No seriously; she’s a bit green but give her some time and she’ll probably make a good mare.’ It was a concession. He could give the animal that much, at least.

  Adam held open the door for Ivy, and she looked at him, kind of warily. But then she smiled. ‘Thank you,’ and went before him down the stairs.

  ‘She’s pretty. What’s her name?’

  ‘Lipstick.’

  Ivy laughed. Adam looked at her, head canted to one side. He dipped his hat a little lower, then glanced away for a second. ‘She’s got hair the same colour as yours.’

  ‘I’ve paid good money for this colour, and now you’re saying I look like a horse, Mr O’Rourke?’

  He smirked but ignored the question. ‘No smoking cigarettes in bed while I’m away.’

  ‘The station will still be standing when you get home.’

  ‘Mum said you’re welcome to go and visit if you get lonely. Don’t expect my dad to remember you.’

  ‘I might just do that.’

  ‘I know you wanted to learn the ropes, yet here you are in the kitchen. Probably wasn’t what you planned. But it’d really help me out if you could take over this kitchen for a while.’

  ‘Not every girl gets to manage fifteen thousand acres of paradise.’

  She thinks this place is heaven?

  It was reassuring, but hard to believe.

  ‘I know you wanted to get out and rough it with the rest of us.’

  ‘It’s okay. Maybe when I have a bit of spare time I can try climbing into the saddle again.’ She shrugged it away. Her cheeks had grown pink as though she was embarrassed, maybe.

  Extra help was always needed at busy times like calving or mustering. At some places, jackaroos and ringers would come and settle for just a season, like cockatoos paused on a field mid-flight. The fact that she was there to plate up at feed time was a boon to him and the blokes. He hoped she didn’t underestimate the help that it gave.

  ‘I left two hundred bucks extra in the fruit bowl for any supplies.’

  As he returned to where RJ, Jack and the other stockmen waited, Adam felt just a little bit homesick. It must be because it wasn’t Dusty beneath him. Without Dusty, he’d be doing the long paddock tough this time. He stole one last glance over his shoulder at Ivy before kicking spurs in and heading off.

  Chapter Twelve

  They called it a city, but it was really just a sprawling country town, its legs outstretched on either side of the snaking river. The pubs here were like three-storey Queenslanders—all white, with turrets and latticed porches. Railway tracks crossed the road for the cattle train to pass through.

  Every style of stockmen’s hat could be seen. They were big, overstated, like the belt buckles that held up their Wrangler jeans.

  The Fitzroy River was a sleepy green python that meandered along the banks of the town. As inviting as the wide green water first appeared, Ivy quickly learned why there were no swimmers in the water. Crocodiles swam leisurely up the tidal river and wandered to the estuary to lay their eggs.

  Apparently fishermen shared the waterway with the crocs pretty regularly, but Ivy was not about to join them. She’d been told by a friendly local that these salties would give fresh water crocs a run for their money where ferocity was concerned. She did not want to test this theory.

  She meant to visit Adam’s mum and dad, but between the failing GPS and driving on an unfamiliar road, Ivy ended up turning Adam’s Holden into the home brew store to clarify directions. It was on the way out that she saw the cheesemaking kit.

  ‘This is something I’ve always wanted to try. There’s so much milk in the fridge I don’t know what to do with it all,’ she told the shop manager.

  ‘You’re on a property out of town then?’

  ‘Capricorn Station.’

  ‘O’Rourke’s run?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘He hasn’t had a woman on the farm in years.’ The woman moved away from the till and, crossing her arms, ran an appraising eye over Ivy.

  ‘I’m here for the season. Working for Adam as … as a … cook.’

  Ivy shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. She was no jillaroo, as good as it sounded, and as hell-bent as she had been. But Adam hadn’t taken her back to the airport as he had threatened, and when she came to think of it, life as a country cowgirl on O’Rourke’s Run, even in the kitchen, was a good place to start. Not quite in the way she had at first anticipated, but then, learning a way of life couldn’t be done overnight. She had been stupid to think otherwise.

  But she did know her way around a kitchen. No reason why she couldn’t try her hand at cheese-making and be successful at that too. Anyway, who was there to poison? If she took a turn at salmonella or something, at least no one else would be harmed in the process. Besides, people had been curdling milk for years and getting away with it. Yoghurt was good for you. In fact, from what she’d read, the more sour the milk, the more benefits it had. Everyone was all about probiotics these days, and she had litres of the stuff at her fingertips.

 
She paid for her purchase, glad to have this practical farm aid to preserve milk. She mightn’t be able to sling her leg over the saddle, but she could at least milk a cow.

  Ivy was relieved when she turned into the driveway of Adam’s parent’s house. She hoped that Adam’s father would be a bit more lucid than he had appeared the other night. She was relieved when it was his mother, Grace, who met her at the front door of their bungalow. ‘It’s Ivy, isn’t it?’

  ‘You remembered.’ Ivy nodded.

  Adam’s mum opened the door of their retirement village home. Why had she been anxious at all?

  ‘Trev, you remember Ivy, don’t you?’

  Trevor studied her vacantly, trying to recollect her face. Ivy smiled as Adam’s dad pulled himself up to stand. He peered at her curiously and then after some deliberating, shook his head. ‘Nope, no I don’t remember.’

  ‘Ivy was at Adam’s the other night.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ The elderly man nodded his head, but Ivy wasn’t sure he did see.

  ‘It’s a beautiful day, Mr O’Rourke.’

  ‘You’re that girl from Sydney,’ he nodded.

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’ Ivy was pleased he remembered.

  He stumbled a little in his slippers as he stepped forward, and Grace went to help him to sit down again.

  ‘I’m right, Grace. I’m all right.’ But he allowed his wife to take his arm and help him to his seat again.

  ‘I think I might boil the kettle and make us a cup of tea. Or perhaps you’d like coffee, Ivy?’

  ‘She’ll probably want one of those lattes, or whatever it is they drink.’ Trevor took a bite of his biscuit and snorted. Crumbs flew from his mouth in an exclamation mark.

  ‘So, Adam’s gone with the cattle and has left you there alone?’ Grace smiled, smoothing over Trevor’s remark. ‘He must think you pretty handy round the place.’

  Ivy was dubious but he had trusted her enough to leave her unsupervised. But in all reality, the boss had probably just seen sense in having her stay behind rather than allow her to slow him down with her poor horsemanship.

  Grace said, ‘I don’t think I’d like to be out for days and nights on end with a bunch of blokes. No toilet, no shower, and one of them taking turns with the frying pan. It wouldn’t suit many women.’

  ‘I’m happy to guard the station.’ It was good to feel needed. Wanted. It had been a while. Her mum had always treasured her, of course. Though it was Mum whose words had finally driven the nail home hard enough to pierce her heart for good. When little Ivy asked why Daddy wasn’t coming home, her hurting mother had spoken the bitter words that stung like poisoned thorns. ‘He just doesn’t love us enough, Ivy.’ Hurting people hurt others, she knew that now. But for nearly two decades those angry words had festered in her heart.

  I’m not good enough to make him stay forever.

  Grace’s voice brought Ivy back to talk of station life. ‘There’s certainly a lot to do at the station. Weaning calves, milking cows, looking after the chooks. Not to mention cooking for stockmen day in, day out. I was hardly out of that kitchen. It hasn’t changed.’

  ‘She cooks for all us men, our Grace.’ Trevor was keen to share a moment of a proud past, though he talked about it like they were still at the station. He pushed the biscuit jar in Ivy’s direction and prompted her with a nod. If eating one of Adam’s mum’s biscuits gave Ivy approval from his dad, then Ivy was more than happy to take one. Trevor watched her bite into the Anzac biscuit. He eyed her with a smile, nodding his blessing as she polished it off. ‘She’s a good cook.’

  Ivy turned to Grace. ‘They’re really good.’

  ‘I’ll write the recipe down for you. These ones are Adam’s favourite.’

  When she arrived back at the station, Ivy carried the cheesemaking kit into the kitchen. In her back pocket was also the notepaper Grace had scrawled the recipe on. Ivy would bake Anzacs for Adam, the ones he liked best. He’d love that.

  She realised that all angst towards the cowboy was gone. She just wanted to show her worth to him; that she did have a place on the station, for the summer, at the very least. That for all the foolish mistakes she had left behind, there was a future that held something good.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A warm breeze blew over brush and Brigalow. The sky was dark in the distance. It hadn’t rained for months. The cattle’s purpled tongues lolled out as if waiting for the rain. Adam quenched his own thirst with the canteen slung over the saddle bag.

  He looked up at the threatening sky. They needed rain, but he didn’t want to be saturated through shirt to skin. A wet Driza-Bone coat made for pretty uncomfortable riding. Adam had been on the land long enough to know that rain was a luxury and that its arrival was infrequent, if not rare. When the plains puddled and flooded and filled the dry gullies, it turned the land into a waterscape. Flocks of long-legged herons, ibis and spoonbills took up home until the flood waters fell.

  The cry of the curlews said they were as surprised at the turn of the weather as he was. Or maybe they were just threatened by cattle, their nests at risk of careless hooves. They flapped their wings with the plovers in a splash of dust from the powdery earth.

  ‘It’s going to flog down.’

  Lipstick heard him. She was listening, alert. Jack turned in the saddle and Adam smelled the tang of leather and damp horseflesh stirred by the kid’s movement.

  ‘Did you say something, boss?’

  ‘Reckon we’re in for it.’ Adam reined in beside him.

  Jack pitched his hat back a little on his head, stared up at the sky and shrugged. ‘You reckon?’

  ‘Look at the horses. They’re getting restless. Their gaits have changed and breathing too. Lipstick wants to take off.’ Adam kept the reins gentle but his seat firm.

  ‘If she had wings, we’d already be half way to Brisvegas.’ Jack laughed. Then, ‘How d’you reckon Ivy’s getting on, all by herself?’

  Ivy had been on his mind since they’d left the station. But he rolled the words around on his tongue before he voiced them. Jack didn’t need to know how he felt about Ivy. No one did.

  ‘You’re thinking about Ivy, aren’t ya?’ Jack turned to grin and Adam swallowed any words he might have had.

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  Jack laughed. ‘Just wanted to hear ya say it. It’s pretty noticeable.’

  ‘Get away with you.’ Then after a moment, Adam put his head back and laughed, ‘I hope it isn’t.’

  Jack joined him, and at the same moment, lightning flared. Adam reined in the filly and a whip crack of thunder tore the sky. The horse flattened her ears and tensed her flanks to flee. Adam let her swing around and worked her with a firm tone and fair hands. He allowed her the safety of a stand of scrub, and tied a lead rope to her halter, securing it to a tree.

  The wind flung dust and debris into their faces. A fury of leaves struck a dance around their knees and Adam pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes. The sky gave another crack of warning. The horses clustered, backs to the wind, and Lipstick pulled at her tether. She skittered and spun. Jack tried to coax her with a calming hand, but she laid her ears back low and pulled up and down against the tether, trying to rear up away from her bonds.

  Adam put one hand up for caution as Jack got close, the other he used to hold fast to his Akubra. Grit whirled in front of his eyes as he went forward into the swirl of dust before him. He didn’t even see the horse kick out. Adam crumpled to the ground.

  He was blinking grit from his eyes even as he asked himself how he’d forgotten to be on his guard with an untried horse. Lipstick glanced down at him, swishing her tail. Jack tried to help him up, in case she wanted to give another round of her best. Adam grimaced, knowing pain would soon be shooting through his leg, as he stumbled to move well clear of her.

  ‘I can’t feel my leg. It’s numb. I can’t
walk.’

  ‘Do you reckon she’s broken it?’

  ‘I reckon she has.’ A kick from a quarter horse with power like that could crush bones to dust. He cursed.

  Adam took the knife from his belt and flicked it open. He bit his lip and began to cut away his jeans. There was little blood but his leg was colouring dark as dirty overalls.

  RJ stood there shaking his head. ‘This rain’s about to hit, boss.’

  ‘There’s nowhere to shelter,’ Jack pointed out. Neither of them answered him.

  ‘I lost the best horse, only to saddle myself with the worst. But it’s my own fault. I should have known better than to trust her. She’s not Dusty. Never will be.’ He looked away as he spoke. They didn’t hear him above the noise of the weather in any case.

  Lipstick was quiet now, and stood with her back to the wind, as they felt the first drops.

  ‘She’s a brat.’ RJ turned away from her and folded his arms. Adam raised his voice to grab RJ’s attention.

  ‘Mate, you’re going to have to splint my shin. Cut a branch. Straight as you can. Make it strong. Use my spare shirt and rip it into strips. If rain runs through Dry Creek before we reach it, we’re going to have to swim it and we both know I won’t make that.’

  Adam watched as RJ gathered what he needed. The last time they’d had rain like this, a woman had been caught unawares as an onslaught of water had flooded the gully and left her body snagged on a fallen tree branch somewhere downstream. He hunched inside his oil coat, a burden to bandage with kilometres to cover.

  He’d sell the horse. He should never have brought her along. When the wind had come up it was like striking flint. She had sparked into life, a fire through dry grass. She was scared, he got that, but she couldn’t be controlled. Now they’d have to turn back, when they had only gathered up a small percentage of the stock. They’d have to finish mustering another time.

  Rivulets ran down RJ’s face as he tied the splint to Adam’s leg. ‘Does it hurt?’ he asked.

  ‘Not yet, but it will soon enough. Just get it done before the pain takes hold. We’ve got to get back to the station before it floods.’