The Cowgirl

by Anthea Hodgson

  When she got back to the campfire the girls were discussing Deirdre’s house.

  ‘All these years,’ Pam was saying, ‘and you never poked about to see if you could find anything?’

  ‘Too busy,’ Deirdre said plainly. ‘I had a farm to run, a family to raise. No time for dwelling on the past.’ The ladies watched a willie wagtail come down to inspect them.

  ‘And now it’s time?’ Audrey asked.

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘Is there treasure under your house, do you think, Deirdre?’ she asked. ‘Some jewellery perhaps? Or silverware? It would be fun if Will could find those things for you.’

  ‘No, we weren’t wealthy people.’ Deirdre was swirling her tea in her enamel mug. ‘But there was something I’d like to see again.’ The women looked at her expectantly, and Teddy thought of her father’s stories and held her breath. ‘A vase,’ she huffed. ‘It’s been in the family for a long time. It might be worth something – not much mind, but something. I’d like to see if it was still there, or if my mother took it with her when she left us.’

  ‘Did she run away from your father?’ Pam asked sympathetically.

  ‘She ran away from us all,’ Deirdre replied. ‘Took off like a thief in the night. Never a word again. We believe she started another family. But she didn’t have a divorce from my father, nor would he have allowed it, so I think she just stayed away and lived a new life.’

  ‘You must have missed her, dear,’ Audrey murmured, and Deirdre sniffed.

  ‘As children we missed our mother. But you grow and adapt. She made her choice.’ Her face was bitter and resolute.

  The wind whistled through the she-oaks with a high, light song, just as Will arrived back from his wanderings. He hovered behind Deirdre, unwilling to join the group.

  ‘What does the vase look like, Grandma?’ Teddy prompted. ‘Is it big or small? What’s it made of?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, it was thick grey ceramic,’ Deirdre said, ‘and maybe a bit bigger than a bottle of milk. I was just a child the last time I saw it, so I really don’t remember.’

  ‘But you’d know it if you saw it again?’

  ‘Oh yes, I’d know it all right. Don’t you worry about that.’

  ‘I must say, I hope Will does find it for you, dear,’ Audrey said. ‘You’ve remembered it for many years. I doubt many people would call you a sentimental woman – it must really mean something to you.’

  ‘Yes,’ Deirdre said. ‘It does.’

  Will bent to pat Dog, and Teddy watched as his mother observed him, wondering when they would see each other again. Pam may have been thinking the same thing, because when she looked up to see Teddy watching her she smiled, embarrassed. Teddy smiled back.

  How was it that such a distance was mended and how long would it take? It made Teddy lonely to think that a bond could be stretched so far.

  ‘Well,’ Deirdre announced. ‘Time to make a move. Plenty of work waiting for me at home.’

  ‘Oh yes, dear,’ Audrey agreed. ‘We really must be making tracks.’ She glanced at Pam. ‘Ready to go?’ she asked. Pam nodded. She obviously didn’t want another run-in with Will’s resentment. The women stood up. It hurt Teddy to see Will staring at the fire, pretending his mother wasn’t about to leave again for a few more years.

  She approached, feeling a slight movement as Will become aware of her attention. She touched his arm and he flinched.

  Pam was retreating to the car.

  ‘Will, please,’ she whispered. He didn’t look at her. Teddy assumed he hadn’t heard. Then he turned to her, his expression softened, and his sky-blue eyes held hers for a long moment before breaking away.

  ‘Hey, Mum,’ he called out.

  Pam whirled around in surprise. ‘Yes, darl?’

  ‘It was good to see you.’

  Pam smiled and even Teddy doubted she believed him but she wanted to believe, and Will had said it. That would be enough for now.

  ‘Thanks, darl,’ she said. ‘It was good to see you too. I hope you’ll come visit me some time.’

  Will’s hands were restless again. He glanced at Teddy. ‘Yeah, sure,’ he said and put his hands on his hips.

  ‘Bye, Will. I love you.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Will whispered.

  Audrey made her farewells and the pair of them disappeared into the bush, back to the car parked along the track. Teddy busied herself packing up. She was inexplicably pleased and frightened at the same time. Will had looked at her like she mattered.

  Will was silent on the way home. At least, Teddy assumed he was silent. He sat in the back of the ute with his long legs stretched out, Dog sitting on his lap pointing out all the significant local sights with his tongue and occasionally his ears. As soon as they stopped in the house yard Will wandered over to the dig and began pacing about in the hole, pausing now and again to poke at a rock or turn over an old piece of timber.

  He probably wanted time on his own. Teddy collected the esky and chairs and took them inside, then jumped back in the car and headed to Georgina and Hamish’s with the leftover scones. She was in need of a cuddle with baby Chloe, who had come home to the farm to oversee the crutching, and to yell at her poor mother day and night.

  ‘Oh, thank God you’re here,’ George said as soon as she popped her head around the front door. ‘Chloe won’t settle! Would you mind taking her for a walk while I have a shower and a nap?’

  ‘Of course, I’d love to!’ She picked up Chloe and they regarded each other. Chloe’s dark hair was sticking up in tufts, as if she’d had a hard day at the office. Her large blue eyes were tired. She beat the air gently with her fists and looked interestedly over Teddy’s shoulder, then, her point made, she dozed off as soon as she was in the pram and rumbling along the rough track behind the house.

  ‘Hey Chloe,’ Teddy said. ‘Did I ever tell you the one about the treasure your evil great-great-grandad buried on the farm? It’s a goody.’ She looked up the fence line to a blossoming canola crop, shining bright yellow. ‘It was a jewel,’ she said. ‘That’s what my dad told me, when I was a kid. Gold and diamonds.’ She smiled down at the sleeping baby. ‘Of course he told me lots of stuff. About fairies and witches and dragons, too, so it was hard to know which parts were true and which were completely made up at the time.’ They had reached the canola paddock now, and the sun was leaping from the bright yellow flowers and reflecting in Chloe’s sleeping face, making her pale skin glow as if she was spellbound as she slept. A breeze pushed through the plants and they bobbed and bowed. ‘Gold,’ Teddy repeated. ‘Just like Rumpelstiltskin, or the giant at the top of the beanstalk.’ She gazed out at the far horizon, to where her farm lay. ‘Or the end of a rainbow,’ she said.

  When Teddy got back to the farm late in the afternoon, Will had the bonfire blazing. She breathed in the smokey scent as she climbed out of the car, pausing with her cake tin under her arm to watch him. Sitting by the fire, he was brushing off a couple of smallish items that were clodded in dirt. His face was remote, his skin was warmly coloured by the flames and his strong hands were gently pushing into the dirt, which was falling in dark clumps from the mysterious packages in his hands.

  Deirdre’s old crap was certainly a long way from Roman ruins, but she found herself constantly impressed by the attention he gave it. It was a fork, she thought, don’t even bother. But he did and was slowly removing the dirt from these banal items as if he might find a clue to a great mystery.

  ‘How’s it going?’ she asked. He held up a jar with a rusty lid.

  ‘Good, I think. Deirdre will be beside herself when she finds out where she left the jam.’

  Teddy grinned. ‘Why are you being so careful with all this crap?’

  He shrugged. ‘The crap I was pulling out of older digs wasn’t really any more earth-shattering to the people who used it, it’s the years that made it interesting. The object can tell a story long after the owner is gone.’

  ‘She’s not gone, she’s milking Cow.’
/>
  He picked up his beer. ‘I was just thinking about you, actually,’ he said.

  ‘Really.’

  ‘Yeah, I mean, I get why you came home.’ Teddy watched the fire. ‘What I don’t get is why you’re still here. Hamish could pick up the slack and Deirdre’s tough as nails. How can you sit next to this fire and still pretend you don’t know the truth?’

  The wings that lived in her heart fluttered and crashed against her ribs. ‘What truth?’

  He gestured with his beer bottle. ‘Look up,’ he said, and when she did she saw the dark velvet sky filling with shining silver stars. They flew above her, glittering like promises. ‘When you look up at that sky, tell me you don’t know the world is bigger than this farm.’

  ‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ she sighed.

  He drained his beer and picked up another, cracked it, and considered her. ‘Hey, is it weird between us because I kissed you before?’

  ‘Nah, I was already pretty weird, don’t worry about it.’

  ‘Good.’ He glanced at her and then turned his attention back to the fire. ‘I have news,’ he said. ‘I’m leaving.’

  Teddy’s heart stopped. ‘When?’

  ‘Tomorrow, probably.’

  ‘What? You said you’d be here a while!’

  ‘I said I had a dig to get to, an actual dig, and that I’d probably have to be off soon.’ He took another sip, but didn’t look at her. ‘Soon is now.’

  ‘Screw that,’ she said. ‘You gave your word that you’d dig this worthless crap out of the ground. You can’t go back on your word.’

  ‘I didn’t give my word!’ he protested.

  ‘Bullshit, you said you’d dig for a few weeks and you’ll dig!’

  ‘Calm down, babe, you can’t make me stay.’

  Teddy got up from the fire, walked to the ute and reached behind the driver’s seat. She pulled the .22 out, walked around to Will’s car and shot the tyre. He yelped.

  ‘Hey! What the fuck? Did you just shoot my car?!’ She reloaded. ‘I’ve got a spare, you know!’ he yelled. She pulled the trigger again, there was a loud crack and the car sagged down on one side.

  ‘How many spares have you got?’ she asked.

  He leapt up. ‘You are fucking crazy! What the hell, Teddy? That’s my car! You need help!’

  ‘Stop your bitching, Will. Around here we know how to keep our word. I was just pointing that out for you. I’ll fix your car. Later. Before then, we’ve got work to do.’

  ‘She shot my fucking car,’ Will was muttering to Dog, who, frankly, wasn’t that interested. ‘You’re crazy, insane – probably dangerous!’

  Teddy shrugged.

  ‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘I’m learning new shit about myself all the time.’ She put the gun back in the ute. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m sorry if this is because you saw your mum and now you want to get away, but that’s not going to happen. Deirdre needs you.’

  ‘What about you?’ he asked.

  ‘I need you to dig the damn hole.’ She was shaking. ‘You seem to have no end of opinion about me staying here, and I get it – maybe you even have a point – but what I am good at doing is sticking to my word, at not letting people down.’ She raised her hands and then dropped them again, unsure what to do next. He was glaring at her. She turned on her heel and headed for home, her blood rushing through her as if it could get away.

  ‘Hey!’ Will was shouting from the fireside. She ignored him. ‘Hey!’

  She heard his footsteps covering the ground between them, and then he grabbed her and pulled her around to face him and he kissed her hard on the mouth, pushing his hands through her hair, parting her lips, dragging her closer to his chest. She kissed him back. She couldn’t resist how good he felt, how good he tasted. She pressed against him and let her whole body discover his, breathing heavily. He broke away and held her face firmly in his hands, his eyes dark.

  ‘Don’t shoot any more of my shit. I would have stayed if you’d asked me,’ he growled, and she stepped back and headed for the house, all the while feeling his heated gaze burning into her back.

  When Teddy got home she fumbled slightly at her front door, made it inside and perched herself on a kitchen chair.

  Man, she was cracking up. Was she now vandalising perfectly innocent cars to keep Will in town? She tiptoed to the window and peeked through the curtains. Deirdre’s light had come on and she was twitching the curtains in outrage. Teddy stood for a moment in the dark room, staring out at the man practising whistling by the fire, observing her grandmother doing exactly the same thing – except it was like she was doing it from fifty years ago.

  She turned to the nest of rusted cake tins on her kitchen bench. Will had dug them up that afternoon. They had once been covered in roses. She imagined Deirdre’s young hands reaching for another piece of cake, telling her mother about her day at school. The images were faded, blackened, and had been eaten away by dirt and rain. As she reached out to touch them gently, a gust of wind from Africa flew past the old shearing shed and scattered gum leaves across the verandah outside her window.

  Spring was fluttering down the street like the beating of wings, bright and cool. Deirdre and Vivian were dressed in their town dresses and they had left a note for their father. Viv and I are in town this afternoon. Dinner is in the fridge if you get hungry early – just put it in a saucepan and heat it up. Deirdre knew he wouldn’t. Even if her father saw the note he’d ignore it and wait for their return. She also knew that if she didn’t leave a note, he’d be in a rage by the time they returned, because his daughters had left him to starve to death. Deirdre would probably have considered it, too, if she thought for a moment it would work.

  They had been up early to Brasso the taps and doorknobs and to polish the floors to a shine. The dishes were done, the windows gleaming. Vivian had spent a little too long on her hair and she checked it again as she passed by the bakery window in town.

  ‘You look lovely,’ Deirdre assured her. ‘You always look lovely.’ Vivian’s hair was golden perfection, set into firm rolls and curls that sat just off her shoulders like a film star. ‘Too beautiful for the likes of Windstorm!’ she added.

  As they walked up to the co-op the street was growing busy. Cars were pulling up for the Friday afternoon tea, a couple of utes were parked picking up stock feed and kerosene tins, and a small group of young Italian men were wandering out of the post office, perhaps having collected their mail. Deirdre blushed.

  One afternoon she had found herself in difficult conversation with one of the men. He had no English, and she had no Italian. She had had been dropping off some Women’s Weeklys for Mrs Beswick, who had been laid low with pneumonia, when she had bumped into him the last time. She’d been in a rush to get some things at the shop before closing time although she’d stayed on the pavement, awkward, caught in the hopeful loneliness in his face. He was so far from home and his family, working tirelessly towards a new future. She admired his bravery, but that didn’t help her communicate. Deirdre, she had said, pointing at her chest. Me – Deirdre. A smile had broken out on his face. Ah! Me – Augusto! Eventually they had ended their stilted conversation and she had gone to pick up supplies from Mr Honeyman. When she returned to the old ute, she found a small posy of flowers on the dashboard.

  Now she glanced at the happy group and Augusto caught her eye.

  ‘Deirdre!’ he called. ‘Deirdre!’ He was holding an envelope, and he waved it hopefully in her direction.

  ‘Good afternoon Augusto,’ she said. ‘Letter from home?’ He appeared to understand her and reached inside the little package. As she watched, he withdrew a photo and held it out for her to see. She looked closely and saw a handsome group lined up in front of a white two-storey house with a sloping terracotta roof and shutters over the arched windows. They were smiling broadly, and beautifully dressed in smart trousers and tailored dresses. Augusto was beaming.

  ‘La famiglia,’ he said. My family. Deirdre smiled back at the little
photograph, fighting the urge to wave at his large, friendly-looking family living all the way around the other side of the world. When she looked up, her eyes were glistening.

  ‘Bella,’ she whispered.

  Augusto laughed and slapped her on the back. ‘Bella!’ he agreed. ‘Bella!’ The men laughed now too, and piled into the back of their truck. With a toot of the horn they were gone, and she watched after them, for a long moment envious of those open faces who were loved so well.

  The girls dashed past the front desk of the co-op, past the shelves filled with tea, jam and packets of gingernut biscuits, past the Rosella tomato sauce and Sunshine milk to the little room at the back. Here Val McPherson had filled the vases with roses until the vases had run out, and so she’d turned to little jam jars from the cupboard as well. She was a kindly woman with a green thumb, although she always protested she didn’t know why her beautiful garden thrived as it did. Deirdre suspected she spent hours working with her flowers because both of her boys were away at boarding school in the city and she missed them. She was just placing the last bloom when the girls dashed in, each carrying a small tower of cake tins.

  ‘Hello, Val!’ Deirdre said, plonking her load down on the nearest table. ‘Roses working their magic again?’

  ‘Yep,’ said Val proudly. ‘Just look at the colours on them this year! And the scent!’ she picked up a vase and shoved it under Deirdre’s nose. ‘What do you think?’ Deirdre breathed in. It was heaven – it was sweet and light and it took her breath away.

  She took the vase from Val and breathed it in again. There may have been a memory there but she couldn’t be certain – a memory like falling in love, a memory that couldn’t have been hers, but it was sweet and languid and as she stood there for a long moment with her face buried in the soft blooms she wondered if it was, instead, a wish.