The Cowgirl

by Anthea Hodgson

  ‘Babe, I’ve got no problem with you being a liar. I pretty much only draw the line at cannibalism, and you get a free pass anyway because you’re pretty —’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Well, you’re beautiful really, but it sounded creepy because I just said cannibalism.’

  ‘I’m not going to the pub with you.’

  ‘Afraid of me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He blinked at her. ‘Well . . . don’t be,’ he told her gruffly.

  The day was fading fast and the little fire that sat before them began to grow. It warmed Teddy’s face and Will stared at her tangled hair in the firelight as if it was bronze or gold. She moved closer to the heat and it almost hurt her eyes, so she squinted into the flames for a few long moments, watching the contrast between the pale sky fading and the bright beacon glowing in front of her.

  The fire crackled. She poked it with a stick for something to do and the simple action seemed to bring Will back from wherever he’d been.

  ‘You hungry?’ she asked. ‘I’ve got some food in the fridge we could heat over the fire.’

  ‘Bring it on,’ he told her. ‘I’ll serve the drinks.’

  When she had collected her camp oven, a beef and Guinness stew and some homemade bread from the house, she threw some bowls and forks onto a tray and dashed back to the fire.

  Will was already messing about with the fire, and as she approached he threw on a couple more broken jam posts. As she set the casserole over the hot coals, she imagined him doing the same thing in a desert in Africa – waiting for the vicious heat of the day to finally wane so that he could make a fire to cook their dinner, telling her stories about the mask he’d found in an ancient grave.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Hmm?’

  Will reached over and touched her arm with his warm hand. ‘You okay? You’ve been holding your spoon still in the pot like you think something is about to come crawling out.’ He leaned closer to her and peered into the pot. ‘Nothing is going to come crawling out, is it?’ he asked. ‘Because I’ve eaten some weird shit in my time.’

  ‘Nah, you’re pretty safe – it’s beef.’ He glanced towards the milking shed. ‘No one you know.’

  ‘Then you’d better serve me up a bowl,’ he said. ‘Isn’t there a code about country women feeding people?’

  ‘Yeah. I think the CWA had it put in the constitution a while ago. Luckily for you we take it pretty seriously in this family.’

  He cracked her a beer. ‘Deirdre doesn’t drink though, does she?’

  ‘No, because of her father. He was a violent drunk.’

  ‘Audrey said.’ He took the bowl. ‘That’d do it. Sometimes people are too hard,’ he admitted. ‘One of the reasons I travel light.’

  Will’s eyes were deep blue in the light of the fire. His dark hair was glinting in the light, while the handsome planes of his face were angled too close to her. Teddy looked deep into her bowl again and ate like there was a hole in the bottom and the stew was in danger of leaking out.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I made him up.’

  Will looked to the skies. ‘I knew it!’ he hissed. She glared at him over her beer bottle. ‘Why?’

  ‘None of your business,’ she said, ‘and I really don’t want you to tell anyone, okay?’

  He gazed at her wide-eyed. ‘Of course, I’m great at keeping secrets,’ he told her. ‘Why’d you tell me?’

  She shrugged. ‘Dunno. In case I die and my family embark on a pointless quest to find him and let him know?’

  ‘Nah.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You trust me.’

  ‘I can’t see why,’ she complained.

  He nodded sympathetically. ‘Neither can I,’ he assured her.

  ‘There’s a story I like about fire,’ Will said and the flames leaned in to listen. ‘It’s Native American but I don’t know which tribe. Anyway, there’s this firebird and he’s beautiful, you know – bright gold and red – and he bloody burns with life. The firebird goes to this tribe and he says, If you can catch me you can light your fire from my tail. Of course everyone thinks this is a great deal, all the warriors are up for it. Then he says, But only the worthy can catch me. And so they’re off. They chase him and chase him and they nearly touch his magnificent tail. But whenever each one gets near he says, Nope, you’re a liar. You’re too vain. You’re a thief.

  ‘And so all the men of the tribe have given up, and this one woman is standing in a doorway, watching on. She says, Firebird, please may I have some of your warmth and fire? And he says, What have you done to be worthy of my flame? She says, I have done nothing. I have no time – I must stay here and care for my sick father and tend my small children. And he puts his glorious feathers in her tired hands and he says, You’ve raised your family, you’ve worked hard and loved them and been true. You have earned my fire. And so the firebird gives the gift of fire to the woman.’ Will grinned, suddenly self-conscious. ‘It’s one for the girls.’

  Teddy smiled at him. ‘Yeah, it is,’ she said.

  Will dropped from his seat lazily and moved closer to the fire, shuffling along to lean against her legs like the back of a chair. He sipped his beer.

  ‘Your turn,’ he said. ‘Tell me a story.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘I’ve forgotten most of them.’

  ‘Bullshit, you’re full of them.’

  ‘You see stories in old pots people throw into creeks.’

  ‘Yeah, so I know what I’m talking about.’ She sat still for a while and he waited for her to cough it up. A story.

  ‘My great-grandfather – my mother’s grandfather, not Deirdre’s father – was born in 1899 on a farm outside Darkan. When his parents wanted a night out, they’d go and visit their friends on the neighbouring property. They’d load the old farm cart up with food and kids and their horse would take them across the creek for a visit. While they were there, there would be piano playing and poetry recitations and joking about, and then late at night after the kids had dropped off to sleep, his parents would load them back onto the cart and, clippety-clop, they’d head back to their place.

  ‘Anyway, in 1910 my great-grandfather woke up on the back of the cart, to the dark night sky, but he thought they had stayed so late the sun was coming up, because he could see something coming across the horizon, glowing like a sunrise. But it wasn’t the sun, it was Halley’s comet, the closest it had ever come to earth. He said it was so bright it lit up the sky – he swore he could almost feel its warmth on his face – and it lit within him a passion for the heavens so strong that he spent his life gazing up at the stars. He studied them and learned all their stories. Mum says he used to sit her out on the wall of their backyard and introduce her to them. Sirius, Canis Major, Orion, Corvus the crow. Night after night he sat there gazing into the darkness. But I think he was waiting for his friend the comet to come back again.

  ‘Then one day it did: in the blink of an eye and his entire lifetime later it came back to see him and the comet was surprised to find he was an old man.

  ‘What happened to you? it said. I’ve lived a life, he replied. And for the first time ever my great-grandfather cried, and his tears looked like tiny broken stars. Maybe because he was happy, maybe because he was sad. He died two days later. And I believe it was because he wanted to catch the comet’s tail before it flew away again without him.’

  Teddy fell silent. The fire crackled and burned through the jam posts and shot golden sparks up into the dark night sky. Will breathed in and sighed slowly, as if he had learned something of great import.

  ‘Hey, are you hiding out here?’ he asked.

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘It isn’t silly. Even if it’s true, it isn’t silly.’ He regarded her carefully. She started to tidy up the dishes to take them back to her cold house. He reached out and took her hand.

  ‘Don’t do that,’ he said quietly.

  ‘It’s what I do.’

 
‘Then stop it.’ She ignored him. ‘Teddy, get off the farm for a while, come out and have a drink with me, it’s not a big deal.’

  ‘Don’t tell me what to do, Will. I have Deirdre for that.’

  ‘Then why not spend some time with me, away from here, away from Deirdre?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Hey, Teddy,’ he rubbed his messy hair. ‘Sometimes you’re like two people. When I talk to you, I just feel as if —’

  ‘Don’t nag me,’ she snapped, and she stalked off towards the house, which waited for her in the shadows.

  ‘What are you afraid of, Teddy Broderick?’ he called after her. ‘Why don’t you ever want to leave?’

  She was at the door – she almost fell into her empty kitchen in relief – and slammed it shut. She let her legs give out and her back slide down until she was puddled into a girl-shaped heap on the floor, her heart pounding. He was wrong. He didn’t know her. She did want to leave; she thought about it every day.

  After half an hour she heard his car start and the wheels spin as he took off for town. He was right to be pissed off with her. She was a nut. It was a drink in town with a man. It was a chance to get away from the farm, to see some people who weren’t Deirdre. It was no big deal. And yet.

  She sat on the floor of her home and felt her world, which had once seemed so wide, shrink around her as if she had been wearing her grandmother’s coat. It had been comforting once, but now it was smothering her and she couldn’t take it off. She felt the shame of it settle about her shoulders. Will had seen through her. She was mad to be so afraid of the very thing she wanted, and Will wouldn’t leave it alone. Her grandmother had protected her for years now, with her gruff dismissal of unwanted invitations. She had held the world at bay for Teddy, but now it felt as if the world was coming in anyway.

  She stood and wandered back outside into the cold night air to listen to the sounds she knew would come if she waited long enough: the soft secret sounds of lambs and ewes calling to each other in the dark, the hush of leaves from the eucalypts down by the dam, the sound of the breeze working at the corner of the old shearing shed roof so that it grated back and forth like a soft, terrible violin, and, finally, she heard the sound of Dog’s paws as they padded across the verandah to join her, the sound of him dropping heavily on the boards and the sound of his satisfied sigh as she reached her warm hand to his belly.

  There was a fox in the bush near the cattle paddock; Teddy could hear it screaming out in the night. The moon had gone away to leave the farm to predators, and Will had left for the pub and not returned. She cursed herself for noticing, rolling over in her bed. Dog whined on the verandah. She couldn’t sleep.

  The phone started ringing in the kitchen. She checked the clock and saw it was after two. She rolled out of bed and felt her way down the hallway.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Teddy? It’s Michelle. Uhh, have you lost something?’

  ‘Is it tall and pissed?’

  ‘Yep, and it’s bleeding a bit.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’d better come fetch him, he’s talking about you, so you know . . . Even if you don’t care about the life-threatening injury, you might want to stem the flow coming out of his mouth. Sounds like he likes you. Quite a bit.’

  ‘Crap. Okay, give me a sec. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes or so.’

  ‘Did you know your voice is like butterscotch?’

  ‘I’ll make it ten.’

  Teddy ran to the mirror and stared at herself. Just go get him – now. Go now.

  When she got there Will was drinking water but it was a bit late because his body must have been at least fifty per cent beer. He was holding a soggy-looking beer coaster to his eye and chatting happily to Michelle, who was drying glasses while she listened.

  ‘Will,’ Teddy said, and he turned around.

  ‘Teddy!’ He assessed her from his stool. ‘Looking good.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘You’re coming home with me.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly,’ he agreed and Michelle giggled. ‘She’s beautiful, isn’t she, Michelle? Look at her! Just out of bed – and look at her! Flaming hair! She’s a bloody goddess. Midnight and she’s here, ready to take me home. This may be the greatest day of my recent life.’

  ‘It’s two thirty.’

  Will looked shocked. ‘It’s two thirty and you’re here to collect me? Bloody hell, Teddy. How desperate are ya?’

  Teddy looked across the bar to Michelle. ‘Can you keep him here? Maybe he could sleep in the lounge?’

  ‘Come here, babe,’ Will demanded. ‘Help me find the door.’ She sighed and put her arm around his waist.

  ‘Where’s the other guy?’ she asked Michelle.

  ‘Broken nose from the looks of it, and a split lip. He went home to sleep it off.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘Terry. A truckie who works for the Pittmans.’ Teddy assumed she’d find out more later.

  ‘Thanks, Michelle. I’ll see you soon.’

  ‘No worries. He’s a pretty good customer.’

  ‘Thanks, bar lady!’ Will called out cheerily, leaning comfortably against Teddy as they made their way out. They got onto the quiet street where the streetlights cast yellow pools around them.

  He leaned against her a little more. ‘Fuck, my eye hurts,’ he murmured.

  ‘I kind of assumed,’ she muttered back. ‘Is this a regular thing for you?’

  He looked abashed. ‘Nah, I promise it’s not.’

  She regarded him in the night air.

  ‘It’s good to see you,’ he said.

  ‘Let’s get you home,’ she said. ‘Do you need to throw up before we get in the car?’

  Will appeared to do an internal assessment. ‘Nup, but I’ll keep you posted.’

  ‘Appreciate it.’

  They drove in silence. Will kept his head back and his eyes closed for a lot of the trip, but occasionally she’d look over at him to find him watching her.

  ‘What?’ she asked, irritated.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Then stop looking at me.’

  ‘Make me.’ He was grinning and wincing at the same time.

  ‘I could just poke your eye. I bet that would work.’

  ‘Oh, it’d work all right but you probably don’t want to see a grown man cry.’ He touched the side of his eye and inspected the blood he found on his fingers. ‘I don’t think you’re used to people looking at you.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ Teddy pulled into the driveway and drove her way slowly up to the house. She wondered if she was going to get back to sleep, and she glanced at his capable hand draped across his knee. Probably not. There was no helping it; she may as well have a cup of tea when she got home. Teddy parked by the front gate and stared at the Geraldton wax growing over the water tank in the headlights.

  ‘Any chance of a cup of tea?’ Will asked.

  Teddy sighed. ‘Okay. Are you going to need help getting into the house?’

  He smiled slowly. ‘I think so,’ he said and she rolled her eyes.

  ‘Wait there.’ She pulled him out of the car with slightly more force than was absolutely necessary. He leaned against her again, but this time his body nestled all the way along hers.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, ‘I’ll need a sec to get my bearings . . .’ He shook his head to settle his vision. ‘And maybe a quick moment to have a vomit,’ he added. ‘You go in, it’s probably better if I do this over there.’ He gestured towards a stand of trees and wandered off to inspect them for suitability. She left him to it and went inside to put the kettle on.

  Teddy tidied the kitchen while the water came to a boil, staring out into the night where she thought she could see Will drinking from the water tank. She poured two cups and watched him wandering about. He was shaking his head like he was surprised he’d made it home at all. When she added the milk, observing the car’s headlights still shining into the excavation site, he was crisscrossing the yard, apparently obli
vious to the light. He kept touching his face, and it looked like he was bleeding again. He stumbled over a shovel and swore copiously. It made her smile. Deirdre would be furious if she saw him, on a number of levels.

  Teddy observed him for a little longer: now he had found a bottle of something under the seat of his car and pulled out the stopper. He looked up at her window, as if he could tell she was watching him. She gasped and took cover, peeping out guiltily from the kitchen bench a few moments later. Suddenly he was standing on the edge of the hole, bottle in hand, staring into it like it knew something he didn’t. Then he toppled gracefully forward, and fell soundlessly into his shallow grave.

  Teddy put down her tea and ran outside to the site, part of which was bathed in the light from the headlights.

  ‘Will! Will!’ she hissed. There was a promising groan from a dark pocket. ‘Are you all right?’ She thought she could see a foot sticking up. She touched it. It turned out to be an old milking stool.

  ‘Awesome,’ he muttered from a short distance away. ‘Just let me sleep.’

  ‘You’re in a hole,’ she explained.

  ‘Are there tigers?’

  She glanced about and her eyes came to rest on Deirdre’s house. ‘Uhh, no, but I think you should aim to sleep somewhere less – pathetic? Do you still want that cup of tea?’

  ‘Goodnight.’

  He sounded pretty comfortable, actually, and who was she to judge? Who was she kidding? She was Deirdre Broderick’s grand-daughter, that’s who. She heard him sigh.

  ‘Goodnight, beautiful Theodora.’

  Teddy gingerly clambered into the hole, bent double and doing low-flying jazz hands to see if she could find him. ‘Will?’ she whispered. ‘You down here?’

  ‘No.’ The tone was a little sarcastic. ‘I’ve gone fishing.’

  ‘Will, put a hand up so I can find you.’

  ‘Ouch!’ She’d found him.

  ‘Sorry.’ She knelt down and began feeling up and down his body to find the head end. She found the bum end and the chest end on the way.

  ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Sorry, but if you’re going to lie in a ditch after a big night, you really shouldn’t be so precious about it.’