‘I think Gemma might be a genius, Mary.’
‘We’ll see.’ Mary raised her brow. ‘Kids change their tune so often it’s not funny. Last year it was soccer she wanted, now it’s art. I don’t suppose either will do her any harm. She’ll probably end up in Canberra anyway, working in some office.’
Sammy’s childhood flashed before her. ‘Just give her the chance, let her pick the pace.’
Mary nodded, appeared distracted, or perhaps doubting that her daughter might go further than the closest city. ‘Do you want these art packages? Or shall I keep them here?’
Sammy didn’t waste time dithering. ‘I’ll pop in later to sort them out.’ She turned, ran down the walkway. ‘Mrs Johnson. Wait. Can I help?’
The wind blew Sammy’s hair across her face and rustled the thin nylon rain jacket she wore.
‘That’s a fifty foot drop,’ Mrs J said, looking into the ravine.
‘How will Ruby get out?’ Jane asked, her bottom lip trembling.
Sammy stepped closer to the little girl. ‘We’ll get her, Janie, don’t worry.’
They stood in a craggy top field, studying the grassy bank that led down to the mud pit where Ruby lay, partly on her side, three legs disappeared in the sludge.
‘It’s the spring melt,’ Mrs Johnson said, looking at the funnelled gully to their right and the spill of water running through it. ‘The streams are flowing fast, even the MacLaughlin’s filling up quick this year.’
Sammy walked the children back to the car. ‘Stay here.’ There was little trouble they could get into; the road was way back. Mrs Johnson had driven hard and fast, bumping over ditches and rocks in her hurry to get to the area she said Ruby usually strayed.
‘We’ll stay put, Miss Walker,’ Andy said, pulling his six-year-old shoulders back, his mouth pressed as he took hold of Jane’s hand.
Sammy ruffled his hair. ‘Good boy.’
‘What do we do?’ she called as she ran back to Mrs J.
Mrs J darted her gaze along the ridge. ‘Have to make sure she doesn’t get herself deeper in the mud. We’ll try and get something beneath her. I’ve got a waterproof sheet in the car. If we can turn her, get her on her feet, we might be able to drag her to the grassy bank so she can walk up.’
‘What if we can’t turn her?’ Sammy asked, shrugging her jacket off.
‘I’d like to try.’
‘I’ll go.’ Sammy stepped to the edge of the ravine. ‘You stay up here with the children. Get me the waterproof sheet, and there’s a bottle of water in my bag. Ruby must be thirsty.’
‘Silly old piggy,’ Mrs J muttered. ‘Got herself down there expecting a muddy bath, not a near drowning.’
Sammy sat back on her heels, hands on her knees, the mud burping around her. Breath coming hard, hands shaking from the effort it had taken to get the sheeting under Ruby’s head, she knew it wasn’t any use. She was nowhere near strong enough. ‘I’ve just pushed her deeper into the mud,’ she called up.
She fisted her hands and looked the pig in her bullet-dark eyes, the white skin surrounding them shiny and wet from when Sammy had cleaned her up and given her a drink of water.
Ruby whinnied, just like a horse, but her snort had a dissatisfactory sound to it.
‘Mrs J,’ Sammy called. ‘We need rope, and something big to pull her out … a tractor.’
Mrs J nodded, scrambled to her feet. ‘I’ll get Ethan.’
Sammy shifted from her knees to sit cross-legged and relieve the muscle strain. She’d been singing to Ruby, whose eyes were blinking wild and panicky. The jittery little squirms seemed to have settled inside Sammy too.
She wiped the grime from her watch. Forty five minutes. She was running out of songs.
Ruby squealed—a high-pitched shriek that nearly shattered Sammy’s eardrums. Then Ruby squirmed, putting effort into moving her bulbous body as though it were her last chance.
Sammy threw herself on top of her, lying flat out. ‘Don’t move. Please don’t move.’ The pig’s body had sunk another ten centimetres already. Sammy petted her nose and spoke softly. ‘Not long, baby. Ethan will be here soon.’
As though her prayer had been answered, the sound of his ute’s engine sang on the breeze. She couldn’t see over the ridge high above her but she recognised the engine’s hum the way a faithful dog left at home would. And Mrs Johnson’s 4WD was behind it.
Both vehicles stopped, engines running. A door slammed, the children’s voices rose, sounding like pleas, and then Ethan’s voice, the low steady timbre telling the children to stay clear.
‘Here we go,’ Sammy whispered, and wondered if she was calming Ruby or advising herself to remain controlled when she saw him.
The ute’s engine purred, then the tow bar came into her view. The door opened and closed. The tarpaulin ruffled on the tray. Some shifting sounds, and his voice again, asking the children to bring his bag.
Sammy breathed deeply, steadying herself when he stepped to the edge of the ridge.
The afternoon sunshine shone on his back. The wind billowed his tan checked shirt and blew his sandy hair across his brow. For a moment, he melded with the breeze and the tall gum tree behind him like a painting from another era. A time of bushmen, and horses and roping; the layers of oil on canvas darkened at the edges. The sunshine glistening through the emerald green of the tree branches, resting like a halo on the shoulders of a man at home on the open land.
Legs akimbo, rescue gear in his hands, he looked as though he could ring any bell in the world.
Sammy’s heartbeat skittered. She hadn’t seen him or spoken to him since yesterday in the kitchen and hadn’t expected to be in touch with him until … she didn’t know. Didn’t have any idea what would happen between them next.
He had his gaze on Ruby. Then it moved to Sammy, and his eyes narrowed.
Ruby shuffled her snout, as though she sensed his presence. She oinked, and wriggled in the mud.
Sammy put her hands flat on the pig’s midriff, and pushed to keep her still. She glanced up to the ridge again. It was the strangest moment to feel thrilled. She had no right to it, but no matter what he was doing—holding rabbits, patting horses or saving pigs, her heart would always burn with pride at his composure. He was a flagship of strength and her eyes would forever welcome the sight of him.
She straightened, wanting to meet his eye and let him know it was okay—she wasn’t going to create a fuss or behave in any different way than she had before yesterday. Her hand of friendship was still there, if he wanted it.
He smiled suddenly. A big, cocky, countryman grin. ‘Ruby’s fine, kids,’ he said as he swung a coiled nylon rope over his head and torso. ‘I can tell from here. We’ll have her out in a jiffy.’ He threw a lightweight bag over his shoulder, followed by thick canvas straps, and stepped over the ridge of the embankment.
He manoeuvred his way down the slope, grasping the bank only once to steady himself. The earth was wetter at the bottom though, and he skidded the last two metres on his thigh and hip.
His boots hit Ruby’s belly and brought him to a stop. She squeaked gently, as though it had tickled her.
‘Sorry about that, didn’t mean to slip.’
Sammy blinked at the mud splashed on her eyelashes.
‘Can hardly see you for mud, Miss Walker.’ He lifted his still-clean hand to her face, and wiped the soggy earth from her eyelids with his thumb. ‘That’s better.’
She stiffened, like a child being tended to.
He didn’t take his gaze off her as he slid the bag from his shoulder then took the rope from around his neck. ‘Wonder if Dolan would want to marry you if he saw you now.’
Sammy’s jaw dropped.
‘And your mother wouldn’t see your pretty face for dirt.’
He paused long enough for Sammy to splutter a surprised, ‘What?’
He grinned. ‘Smile, Sammy. Life’s an adventure, there to be smiled at. That’s what my mother used to say when I was a boy.’
She closed her mouth. She was getting an exposition on childhood from the man who kept everything to himself—like his dead wife and unborn baby.
She took her thoughts off that and back to the problem at hand. ‘How are you going to get her out? Is she in pain?’ She winced. ‘I had to sit on her.’ She felt bad about that.
‘You haven’t hurt her. She’s oinking with the best of them.’
‘She’s shivering.’
‘She’s happy to see me. It’s called Ruby’s Quiver.’
‘Ethan!’ She couldn’t hold onto the frustration.
He turned from her which was just as well, because her heightened breathing would definitely betray her confusion and fluster.
He pulled a syringe from the nylon bag and filled it with something from a small vial.
‘I thought you said she didn’t need anything.’
‘Just giving her something to help. It won’t be pleasant for her when I haul her up.’
‘You?’ Sammy asked. ‘Are you going to try and drag her up?’
He looked her in the eye, gaze a steady blue. ‘I can ring a bell for you without any problem, and I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I can’t pick up a quarter ton of pig by myself. Looks like I’ll have to use the ute.’
He waited, looking at her.
Sammy moistened her lips and took the image of him hammering every bell in town out of her mind. ‘Are you trying to make me laugh?’ She had to speak, this was ridiculous, not what she’d expected. ‘Are you doing this on purpose?’
His gaze softened. ‘I’m trying to put you at ease, yes.’
‘About what?’ It wasn’t this. It wasn’t Ruby.
He didn’t answer. She sighed and lowered her chin.
‘About us,’ he said quietly.
Blast her heart. It gave her away with its erratic beating. Her skin prickled with unease, with angst, with …
‘Sammy.’ He leaned forwards, hooked his arm around her and pulled her into his shoulder.
Her hands came up to his chest. Her face rested against the soft cotton of his shirt, she breathed in the aroma of him. The energy and heat he kept so tightly controlled.
He settled her with a small squeeze of his arm, and dipped his face to nestle in her hair. ‘Ruby’s fine,’ he whispered. ‘So are you. Everything’s fine.’
‘Did you know that in Denmark there are twice as many pigs as people?’ Ethan called out to the children as he uncoiled the ropes.
Sammy sat back as he threw the longest length like a whip, blue and yellow nylon yarn spinning in the air until the tip snatched at the ground behind him.
Ruby squealed.
Sammy slapped her hands over her ears.
‘And that a pig’s squeal,’ Ethan yelled, ‘can get as loud as one hundred and fifteen decibels.’
‘They can run a mile in seven minutes, Dr Granger,’ Andy called out once Ruby quietened.
‘Can they now.’ Ethan paused, looked up at the children. ‘Is that how Ruby got so far from home?’
‘It’s a long way home,’ Janie shouted, her voice a soprano tremor.
Ethan smiled. ‘Not so long, Jane. We’ll soon have you all home.’
He looked at Sammy, the crease of a frown on his brow. ‘I’ll try to make this as fast as possible,’ he said, his tone serious. ‘But it’s going to be hard. Pigs use mud to cool them down, not to get dirty. She’s not happy being dirty and she’s been stuck here all day. Her back is getting sunburned.’
Sammy shuddered.
‘Are you going to be able to handle this?’
She nodded. ‘Just want to get her out.’
He gauged her for another second, then turned to the children. ‘What’s that nursery rhyme about pigs?’
‘The little piggies,’ Andy called, cupping his hands to his mouth like a megaphone.
‘And the party,’ added Jane with a giggle.
‘The party?’ Ethan laughed. He took a shorter length of rope and lowered himself until he was lying on his side. He thrust his arm into the mud beneath Ruby. ‘What party is Ruby going to when she gets out of the mud?’
‘The market party, with roast beef.’
‘Tell me that story again, I’ve forgotten it.’ He tunnelled into the mud. ‘Do as I do,’ he told Sammy. ‘Dig down and try to meet my hand.’
The kids chanted the rhyme, word perfect.
Sammy stretched out beside Ruby and reached beneath, feeling and scrabbling in the mud. ‘You’re very good at this,’ she said.
‘Rescuing?’ He pushed a laugh out. ‘I’ve had some practice.’ He sounded rueful.
‘No,’ Sammy said. ‘I meant you’re very good at settling everyone.’
Up to his shoulder in mud, he lifted his head to glance at her. ‘The kids are fine.’
‘Me,’ she insisted, looking directly at him. ‘You did it for me, too.’
The planes of his face relaxed. A moment of sadness, not even a second, and it was gone.
‘Because of the awkwardness between us,’ Sammy said, her fingers digging through the heat of the mud. ‘Because of yesterday.’
His eyelids flickered, rapid blinks through the haze of sweat that rose from the animal’s heaving body. ‘And how do you feel?’ he asked.
She lowered her gaze and stared at Ruby’s mud splattered flesh. ‘Better, now that I’ve seen you,’ she admitted.
He hissed in a breath. ‘Good. I don’t want it otherwise. I didn’t expect … ’
She looked up, watched his face, waited.
‘There.’ He pushed into the mud, kicking his legs to force himself down. ‘I’ve got your fingers. Grab the rope.’
She pressed herself further into the mud, her shoulder sunk, her cheek on Ruby’s skin. She clamped her fingers around the rope.
The mud croaked like a bullfrog when Ethan pulled his arm free. He squelched his way around Ruby and came to Sammy’s side. He put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Don’t let go, if you can manage.’
‘I’ve got it.’
He dug into the thick mud with his hands, using them like a shovel. ‘Keep a hold of it. This is the first. We have to do this one more time before I pull the canvas straps through.’
‘I’ve got it. I won’t let go.’
He thrust his arm next to hers.
She felt his fingers. ‘That’s it. That’s me.’
‘I feel you.’
She glanced at his face as he took the rope from her fingers, and couldn’t breathe. He smelled warm and tender with energy and effort.
‘Let go now.’ His lifted his chin. ‘Let go, Sammy. I have it.’
She felt his hand, wet and warm around hers. She smiled. Didn’t want to let go.
He paused suddenly, and smiled back. ‘How do you feel about country life now?’
Despite the ache in her shoulders, the thickness in her throat that threatened to be the start of something terrible like wanting to cry, she laughed. ‘Never felt more at home. What’s next?’
‘Don’t cry,’ he warned, his voice low. ‘I haven’t got a joke for that.’
‘Not going to.’
She pulled her arm from the mud, crawled around Ethan and gathered the canvas strapping.
It was done. Ruby was calm from the drug, breathing easy and blinking at Ethan as he fastened the last of the canvas straps around her body to the metal hooks on the long rope. He’d handled everything in a straightforward manner, all the rescue gear, the hooks and claws; the animal, the children, and the woman.
He took the bottled water and carefully washed Ruby’s face.
Sammy sat in the shadow of all that awe-inspiring capability.
He rested back on his heels. ‘Let’s take a minute. Not something I do every day. Kinda whacked.’ He grinned, not looking in any way exhausted. Just covered in thick brown mud, which made him look even bigger and bolder than usual. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
There were so many questions in her head. If he was inclined to talk suddenly, in this extraordinary situa
tion they found themselves in, she wanted answers. ‘What didn’t you expect?’
He pulled himself around to sit, legs askance in the quagmire, arms rested on his knees, and looked at her like he knew exactly what she meant. Like he had expected the question and was ready for it. As though a whole twenty minutes hadn’t passed in strenuous exertion and their conversation was taking place in the park while they sat on a bench and caught the sun.
‘I didn’t expect to feel so close to you, or to anyone again.’
Her heartbeat fluttered with hope. She didn’t want to be ostracised by him, but would step away after this if he didn’t want her by his side occasionally; if he couldn’t accept her friendship and her care of him.
She was walking through a tunnel and didn’t know what to expect at the end. Life would either let her be, or life would push her away one more time. She’d leave town, if she had to, but it would be the last time she ran from anything. If she did have to leave Swallow’s Fall, wherever she found herself, she’d root there. Would never let anything or anyone … oh, too hard a notion to absorb. She didn’t want to leave this place. She’d put down roots right here and she wanted to watch the seedlings of her new life break through the soil. And he felt close to her. That was good. A start-again opportunity for both of them.
‘Do I make you feel better?’ Happy, she meant, but was reluctant to voice it until she knew what footing they were on.
He nodded, smiled a little. ‘Better,’ he said. Then he bowed his head towards her, serious suddenly. ‘I wouldn’t have come to your place, not today, not tomorrow. I didn’t know how to … what to say. Except that I’m sorry about hurting you.’
‘You didn’t hurt me.’ His kiss had thrilled her, his hands on her had been exquisite pleasure. Rough, yes—but passionately so, as though he hadn’t been able to hold himself back from her.
He turned his hands, palms up. ‘These are big hands, Sammy. I can use them gently too, but I didn’t know how to tell you that. Didn’t think you’d want to hear.’
‘Of course I want to hear. Of course I would listen to you.’
He was her friend, and friends listened and cared. He deserved everything good, everything beautiful, and so did she. They could go forwards with their friendship and build on it and forget about the man-woman relationship. He’d made it better for both of them.
The House On Burra Burra Lane Page 13