Texas

by Sarah Hay

  Texas ‘It must be hot out there fencing,’ she said.

  He looked up. ‘Bloody hot on that rock.’

  ‘Is John out there with you?’

  ‘Not this week. Last week, he out for half a day.’

  John had been back from his city trip for a couple of weeks. He rarely spoke directly to her and she wondered if her presence was tolerated for Texas’s sake. Presumably she was still being paid but she wasn’t sure whether there was a difference between a jillaroo’s wage and a domestic’s. She didn’t want to ask in case they told her she wasn’t needed any more. There were steps around the side of the cool room and John appeared, moving purposefully towards them. He nodded at Texas.

  ‘I’ll pick up that part on Monday,’ he said. ‘How long you reckon you got left out there?’

  ‘That ground too bloody hard for that digger. Need the rain, you know, soften it up,’ said Texas. His eyes not quite meeting John’s when he spoke.

  ‘No time mate, more cattle coming up, stud animals,’ said John and he removed his hat. ‘Wire it up to one of those snappy gums if you can’t get a post in. Plenty of them out there.’

  Although she was looking at Texas, she was aware of John and he leant down and pulled off his boots and placed them beside the kitchen door. Before he opened it, he turned back towards them.

  ‘Have the day off tomorrow.’

  ‘Toyota need oil change and new filters,’ said Texas.

  ‘When you finish that then.’ And he disappeared into the kitchen and they heard him talking to his children.

  She wondered what she and Texas might do for the wet.

  They should take a holiday, perhaps go to Darwin together.

  There would be money for travelling in their bank accounts.

  After board was taken out, cheques were deposited every month when Susannah or John went to town. Texas was staring past her, the whites of his eyes marked with tired tracks of red, then they returned to her face and the skin creased around them.

  ‘What you looking like that for?’ he said.

  She was glad to have his attention.

  ‘I was just thinking what we might do when we get some time off.’

  ‘Go for a drive eh,’ he said. ‘In the afternoon.’

  II

  Laura opened the gate that led out of the homestead yard and crossed the dirt, and although the day was overcast, it seemed the heat was trapped in between. She walked slowly and precisely, her feet in hot socks and boots. Parched pieces of rock scraped beneath them and the memory of the nights sustained her. Of air that became softer in the dark. Air gently pushed around by the fan, the slow, languorous movement of curtain fabric as it let the outside in. The generator was off and the sound of a metal tool dropped on concrete rang out clearly, breaking the heavy muteness of midday. She was carrying a bag with a water container and salt-beef sandwiches that she

  Texas had made herself. She stepped into the gloom of the shed and blinked, her eyes adjusting to the lesser light. The bonnet of the Toyota was up and Texas was leaning in behind it.

  ‘Are you just about finished?’ she asked.

  He stepped back. ‘Yeah, start her up.’

  She placed the bag with the food and drink on the seat before her and climbed in behind the steering wheel. It reminded her of that afternoon at the end of the rodeo when she drove to the tank along the highway for a bogey. There were too many police on the road for anyone else to drive and the vehicle was crowded with people wanting to cool down. She was stopped, but even though they knew she’d been drinking, they let her continue. About ten kilometres or so down the road Texas pointed out a large concrete tank on her right. She parked close beside it and everyone climbed onto the roof and jumped into water that was cool and clear.

  She moved over into the passenger seat to let Texas in behind the wheel. He reversed the vehicle out of the shed and into bright light and it seemed that in the short time they’d been in the shed the clouds had moved into one half of the sky and were thickening.

  ‘Does that mean it might rain?’

  ‘Just build-up. No rain yet.’

  They were in view of Irish’s old caravan and the bough shed beside it and she remembered the old man and the way he’d died and the thought of it made her feel slightly ill. When John returned he’d called the ambulance to take him away and a few days ago police had come to interview Susannah. She was apparently in trouble for not reporting his death but she’d never spoken to Laura about it, and when Laura mentioned it to Texas, he didn’t seem to want to talk about it either. Texas drove the vehicle towards the yards but instead of following the track beside it that led across the creek, he stopped in front of the gate on the other side.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked, opening the door.

  ‘Maybe go along that ridge there and out into that red flat country.’

  She closed the gate, the metal almost too hot to touch, and the sweat on her back dried by the time she returned to the vehicle. The track was rough and rocky and they drove through black-soil country that was well wooded with trees she’d seen many times before, trees with butterfly leaves that were soft-colour green with blood-red pods and rust-tinted flowers, and among them were tall, wide bushes that were prickly. Through them, she caught glimpses of a black stony ridge and she remembered on a drive with John, he’d said they were basalt ridges, the oldest in the country.

  ‘Hold the wheel eh.’

  She reached over to steady it while Texas cupped the match to light his rollie. She thought it too hot to smoke. Her elbow rested on the open window and her other arm hung loosely at her side; she was trying to keep it away from the heat of her body. She looked over at Texas, holding the wheel casually and capably, his checked shirt rolled above the elbows, and thought he looked no different to when he rode a horse.

  Texas ‘That old fella, he knew all the footwalking road through here. He learnt it from the old people.’

  ‘Who, Irish?’

  ‘Before Toyota road, old people they walk the same way, except in different place.’

  ‘Where?’ she said and looked to his profile that was turned away from her.

  He glanced back. ‘They walk that place, they know that tree, they know that hill and all around. Not any more. Most of the old people are gone.’

  ‘Do you know where they walked?’

  He stared ahead, steering the vehicle along the track.

  ‘When I was a young fella, I was droving cattle.’

  They continued for another hour or so. She found it hard to gauge time when everything they drove past seemed to stand motionless in the bleached light. The country was flatter and became redder and there were small rises which they drove over and through and eventually they stopped at some pinkish, pale-coloured rock.

  ‘This place, maybe nice and cool,’ he said as he turned off the engine.

  She looked out the window and saw nothing that resembled shelter or shade and the air that entered was thick with heat. He was climbing out his door and pulling the bag of food towards him.

  ‘You staying there?’ Grinning beneath his hat.

  Her body came away from the seat wetly and for a moment it was cooling. He was walking ahead of her towards the rock and after he climbed over the first few boulders she realised he was descending into a crack in the earth. She followed, clambering over the smooth hot stones, and gradually the rock became cool to touch the further down they went. The walls narrowed and she could touch each side with her hands and they rose almost vertically twenty metres or so and the sky could be seen, framed by the narrow ragged opening above.

  The rocks were smooth and pale, marked with thin wavering lines of pink, purple and red, and they seemed to be formed in blocks, almost regular in shape. The gap between them widened and Texas was standing beside a circular pool, no more than ten metres across, deep emerald in colour.

  ‘My god, this is beautiful. Who would have believed it?’

  Texas sat down against th
e rock and took off his hat.

  ‘Nearly lost a horse over the edge, my old man, that’s how he found it.’

  ‘Let’s have a swim,’ she said, resting beside him.

  ‘That water too deep. That water go a long, long way.’

  She’d only been looking at the surface.

  Descending at dusk into a plain surrounded by shapes that resembled mountains, only smaller. It was hazy with smoke or heat and it was like being in the bottom of a canyon. They drove through a gap in the hills and out into the wide country where the sun was still bright and she recognised the ranges ahead where at the base would be the homestead, the sheds and the yards. It seemed they’d driven in a circle and they would return in another direction from the way they had left.

  Texas stopped for a gate. A bird of prey hovered, the tips of

  Texas its wings trembling with the effort of staying above in one place. Through the trees on their left was a windmill. She climbed back in the vehicle and Texas drove forwards. He was looking across her and out of the window and she couldn’t read his expression.

  ‘What is it?’

  He swung the vehicle away from the track towards the windmill. Crows spiralled and eagles flew up in wide swooping arcs, and the smell of putrid flesh crashed in on them, and the trees thinned, revealing a scene that was horrifying, of cattle barely standing above many that were dead, blank-eyed and hollow.

  ‘Cattle smash,’ he muttered.

  ‘What?’ She immediately thought of a vehicle. ‘But how?’

  ‘They got no water.’

  Texas stepped out onto the dirt and walked towards the trough. They were the animals she had ridden with, the brahman weaners which had been so carefully looked after, fed mineral supplements and hay. She followed slowly, her hand over her nose, barely able to take it all in. There were maybe five or six alive, standing with front legs splayed, heads dropping to the ground, grey tongues protruding from their open mouths. The rest were bunched together, as though they’d fought one another, some on top of others in a sickening, stinking mound, where bones had been picked at and black flesh torn by birds, and maggots moved in the openings. Texas was staring at the trough blankly. There was dust where there should have been water. She followed his gaze as he looked up, and it travelled from the black poly pipe which snaked away from the trough in the direction of the windmill. In places it was submerged by sand and then it surfaced again near the fence and it was in that area that most of the cattle had died. Texas took off his hat, his eyes blinking rapidly. He looked over to the Toyota and back to the cattle that were standing. And then one of them fell, and dust filled its vacant eye.

  ‘Twenty litres in the back. But it’s too late,’ he said and he replaced his hat on his head and she could no longer see his eyes.

  ‘What about in the tank?’

  ‘That tank empty. Spilled out. See where that pipe broke.

  Them poor little fellas trying to get that water coming out before it dried up.’

  She realised what had happened.

  ‘But how long has it been like this? Doesn’t Gerry check all the bores and the windmills?’

  Then she remembered he was in town and John had been doing it. He told Susannah that was where he was last week.

  ‘Maybe three or four days in this heat. That’s all it takes for them little fellas.’

  As they drove in the direction of the station, the hills beyond it edged in pale light, she realised the worst thing was that it was so close to the homestead. They didn’t speak until he switched off the ignition.

  ‘I’m going to tell the boss,’ he said, turning towards her, and she caught a glimpse of the hollowed-out look in his eye and then as quickly it was gone and he left the vehicle.

  Texas She wanted to go after him, to hold him, but she knew he wasn’t seeing her. Undressing for a shower, she heard a car engine and saw, through the small window in the bedroom, lights finding a path through the dark. She switched on the globe in the bathroom. The water was warmed by the heat of the day and she scrubbed the smell from her skin and hair. The longer she stood there, the more the memory of the day became like something she might have seen in a movie. She knocked at the kitchen door and when Susannah told her to come in, Laura went to the dishes on the sink, knowing that that was what Susannah wanted when she was at the table feeding the children.

  ‘What happened out there?’ asked Susannah. ‘Stop that,’ she said to one of the boys as he emptied a spoonful of food on the table.

  ‘There were some cattle without water.’

  Susannah looked up and Laura thought she saw something in Susannah’s face like disgust but then it was gone.

  ‘Right. Bedtime,’ she said and ushered the boys out the door.

  Laura said goodnight but they didn’t answer.

  Even though she didn’t feel like eating, she helped herself to some stew from the pot on the stove and sat on the veranda and listened to the amplified sound of the cicadas as she moved the meat around on the plate. She thought she heard the pop of a gunshot but she couldn’t be sure. Susannah returned and paused by the door for a moment, and Laura thought she might be about to say something but she didn’t. The vehicle returned. She heard the men’s footsteps before they appeared. John stepped up onto the veranda and he threw her a look of such extreme dislike that it made her sink back in her chair. The flywire door closed behind him. Texas came towards her and he shook his head slowly.

  ‘Do you want something to eat?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘No,’ he said.

  Noticing the brown dirt on his arms and his jeans, like dried blood.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘All finished with that fella.’

  She was standing, looking through the louvres into the kitchen at the shape of the station couple on either side of the table and the dull light that surrounded them.

  ‘But what are we going to do? Where will we go?’

  ‘I got a good place now,’ he said, managing a tired smile.

  He placed his hand on her shoulder and they walked across to their quarters.

  III

  Susannah felt the bed move as her husband got up, his figure faintly outlined in the shadows. Neither of them had slept and it was his restless movements that had kept her awake. The light from the bathroom, which was further down the hall, reflected on the wall outside their bedroom door. Even though it was dark behind the curtains, she could hear the twitterings of little

  Texas birds preparing for dawn. When she heard his footsteps leave the house, she climbed out of bed and slipped on the shirt and shorts she’d been wearing yesterday. Standing by the stove in the kitchen, hearing the metal of the kettle creak as it began to heat up, and noticing that behind the louvres, the sky was lightening she became aware of other people’s voices. John was at the shed filling up with fuel. She moved out onto the veranda and on the other side of the lawn she could see the dark shape of Texas as he carried his swag and placed it beside the gate, where John would bring the vehicle. Texas looked back towards the tree in front of the quarters and Susannah realised he was responding to something Laura had said for she emerged from behind it and handed him her backpack. He took it with one hand and with the other he pulled her close and they stood together, his head angled towards hers, she, at the height of his shoulder, looking up at him, and behind them the light was soft, a hazy gold that made everything seem possible. If she could, Susannah would tell her mother that it was beautiful here in the mornings. But that it never lasted.

  She heard the vehicle start up and returned to the kitchen where she made herself a cup of tea. Listening to the activity around her, feeling like she always did, as though she was on the other side of it. Doors slammed; there were footsteps on the veranda. Her husband was in the doorway. Their eyes met.

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ she asked.

  He shook his head. ‘I’ll pick up the stores. Is there anything else?’

  ‘No,’ she said.


  The door closed behind him. And a little while later the vehicle started again. She knew it was them leaving, it was the sound she’d been waiting for, the sound that would mark the moment when she was alone, just her and the children.

  And because she’d known it was going to happen, she didn’t feel any different. Her head was thick from not enough sleep and perhaps full of words that needed to be spoken, but other than that it was just like any other day. But then the thought of another day to fill seemed to open wide, so wide she felt that the idea itself might engulf her. She wouldn’t let it, though, she was stronger than that.

  Last night after dinner she’d written out the final cheques for Laura and Texas. She could have given them to John but instead she decided to take them over herself. She didn’t want to think about why they were leaving or what had happened but she needed to show them that she wasn’t like her husband.

  The couple weren’t in the quarters and so she called out and then in the paddock on the other side of the fence she could make out the orange glow of their cigarettes. She realised as she stood at the fence that they were sitting on a swag a couple of metres away. Laura stood up and came over.

  ‘I’ve got your cheques here,’ Susannah said.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Laura.

  She stepped through the wire and Susannah followed her into the quarters.

  ‘It must be nice out there,’ said Susannah awkwardly. ‘I guess you can see the stars.’

  Laura was standing in the sleep-out under the globe. She turned back and faced Susannah in the doorway. Laura’s hair hung around her face and she smelt of tobacco. Smiling slightly, she said, ‘Yeah, there’s a bit of lightning around too but Texas said it’ll be a while before it rains.’ She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it back from her forehead, glancing at the cheques and then at Susannah. ‘It’ll be good to move on,’ she said.

  Susannah wondered whether she’d ever looked like Laura. There were no hard edges to a woman in love. Her mother would’ve been able to tell her, if she hadn’t been too busy to notice, or perhaps distracted by the cancer that was going to kill her. These days her mother seemed to be forever in her mind. Susannah was allowing her thoughts to go to her instead of closing them off like she’d done in the early days of her grief. The intensity of her sadness was dispersing and separating itself from the other parts of her life.