by Ariel Tachna
Caine wanted to believe they could. He wanted to think they could be adults and act courteously to each other even if they never regained the ease they’d had with each other in the first month Caine was at Lang Downs. Macklin hadn’t refused to come speak to Caine today about the missing sheep, and he hadn’t dismissed Caine’s decisions. It wasn’t the same camaraderie from their evenings drinking beer on Macklin’s veranda or in his living room, but it was proof they could have a working relationship.
So he could stay, but he wouldn’t have a lover and partner at his side to support him the way he’d started to dream of having with Macklin. He could follow Macklin’s example of going to Sydney or Melbourne once or twice a year if the loneliness got to be too much, although he’d never been a fan of one-night stands. Still, the touch of any hand had to be better than his own. He could be open to the possibility that his orientation being public would bring others to the station who shared it. They wouldn’t be Macklin—a thought that tore at his heart—but he might find someone else who would be willing to be his partner openly the way he desired.
The disloyalty of that thought left him feeling ill. They hadn’t even been separated twenty-four hours, and he was already thinking about someone else. So maybe he wouldn’t find a partner the way Uncle Michael had. Not everyone did. Some people filled their lives with work and close friends and a kind of extended, adopted family. He certainly had that with Jason. Given enough time, he might even have it with some of the other men at the station. If it was less than he’d begun to hope he might have, it was still more than he’d had in Philadelphia.
He ran his hand down his stomach. The softness that had plagued him all his life was gone. In a few short months, he’d gone from being a soft city boy to having muscles, not from the gym but from living his life in the outback. If a few months could do that, what would a few years do? Living in the outback had transformed more than his body. He had argued with Neil that morning without stuttering once. He didn’t believe for a moment that he’d never stutter again, but the confidence he’d felt as he faced down the jackaroo and his prejudices was new. He’d never had that kind of nerve before coming to Lang Downs.
He was making a life for himself, a good life, one that he could be proud of regardless of whether he had a lover to share it with him. The passage of years would only make that better as he grew even more confident with himself and his role at Lang Downs. If they could get the organic certification, he could proudly say he’d taken his uncle’s legacy and built on it even more than simply maintaining it. He could make plans to set it up as a trust so that after he was gone, the station would become a joint venture of the families who had invested so much of themselves in it, or maybe he could look into adopting a child to take over the station after his death. The possibilities were limitless, even without Macklin at his side. His life would be richer with someone to share it—he had no doubt about that—but he could do this alone. He could have a life at Lang Downs as Caine Neiheisel, not as Michael Lang’s nephew or Macklin Armstrong’s lover, but simply as himself.
“I don’t know what the future holds, Uncle Michael,” Caine said into the darkness, “but I’m not going to let falling in love with Macklin when he doesn’t feel the same way keep me from being happy. It might not be what you had with your Donald, but I’m going to make this work.”
CAINE WENT down to breakfast early the next morning, determined to carry out his resolutions of the night before. Macklin wasn’t in the canteen, but several of the men spoke to Caine as he came in, making him feel better about the reaction of the year-rounders as a whole.
Caine grabbed a cup of coffee and some breakfast. He would eat first and let the men finish their meals, and then he would check in with the ones who had stood watch during the night and give orders for the day.
If Macklin came in while he was eating, Caine would consult with him, but Caine refused to sit around dilly-dallying like he couldn’t do anything without Macklin’s approval. He’d just finished his breakfast when Kyle came in. “Morning, boss,” he said. “We set the watch like you said.”
“Good,” Caine replied. “Get something to eat and then we’ll talk about it.”
Macklin walked in a moment later. Caine nodded politely in his direction, making no move to invite him over but not pretending he didn’t see the foreman either. They were colleagues; Macklin was his foreman. That relationship had to abide.
Kyle came back with his plate, obviously torn between reporting to Caine and reporting to Macklin as he had always done. “Macklin,” Caine called, “Kyle wants to give us his report from the night watch. Why don’t you join us?”
Both men looked at him in surprise, but Caine simply waited until they had both joined him at the table before gesturing for Kyle to begin.
“It was pretty quiet,” Kyle said. “The only person who reported seeing anything was Ian, but he was pretty sure it was just a pair of dingoes checking out the valley from the ridge.”
“Is it normal for dingoes to come that close?” Caine asked, looking at Macklin.
“Not normal, but not unheard of,” Macklin replied. “It means it’s cold and snowy up at the higher elevations, and they’ve come down looking for food. They’ll have to get pretty hungry before they’ll come into the valley, even with the lure of the sheep. There are too many people around.”
“But it means the sheep that got loose yesterday will be easy prey for them,” Caine concluded. “Kyle, find Ian and have him come to my office. We need to know where he found the sheep that got loose and where he looked for the strays he couldn’t find.”
“Yes, boss,” Kyle said, gulping the last of his coffee and hurrying off to do Caine’s bidding.
“I’ll need your help organizing the search,” Caine said to Macklin. “I don’t know the station as well as you do.”
“I was beginning to wonder if you still needed me at all,” Macklin said, his voice bitter. “You certainly took charge well enough this morning.”
“Not here,” Caine said, heading toward his office. Macklin followed more slowly. When they were alone, Caine faced Macklin and took a deep breath, trying to put his revelations of the night before in words that would explain without shutting any doors forever. “I would be happy to have you as my partner,” he began slowly. “That hasn’t changed and probably won’t change, but that’s not what you asked me. You’re worried about your job and the life you’ve built here, the one that’s so important you can’t risk it. We’re both adults. We can continue to work together as boss and foreman, but I am the boss and I need to act like it. Not for the men, not for us, but for me. I will always listen to your advice and probably always follow it because I don’t have your experience, but I need to make decisions and be involved and be the leader this station deserves, and that means you have to accept me too.”
A knock on the door interrupted them, but Caine ignored it for a moment. “Can you do that?”
“Answer the door, boss,” Macklin said. “We have a search to organize.”
Caine let out a sigh of relief. If Macklin had refused his offer, Caine would have found a way to keep going, but knowing he had the other man’s support with the station relieved the one fear he had left. He called for Ian to come in.
They spent the next half an hour listening to Ian’s report and dividing the nearest paddocks into quadrants so they could search for the missing sheep. Caine and Macklin divided the hands into groups of two and sent them out to search with orders to check in every hour and to find a drover’s hut for a break at lunch. It was too cold to be out for longer than that without the opportunity to warm up again. A couple of times, he thought he caught an admiring expression on Macklin’s face, and once he even thought he saw a hint of wistfulness, but the emotions were always quickly hidden the moment Macklin realized he was looking.
They found the sheep that afternoon, cold and straggly but seemingly unharmed. Caine stood across the pen from Macklin, overseeing their return, the
gulf between them feeling insurmountable.
Twenty
THREE WEEKS later, Kyle came in to Caine’s office, his face grave. “You need to come see this, boss. I sent Ian to find Macklin. It happened again.”
“What happened?” Caine asked.
“A broken fence, a drilled hole in the boards,” Kyle said. “I sent everyone else out to round up as many sheep as we could as quickly as possible. This late in June, you never know when a storm will pop up.”
They walked out to the pens where the sheep spent the winter. The one that had trouble previously was fine, but one of the pens on the south side of the valley had a fence down. Ian and Macklin arrived at almost the same time as Caine and Kyle.
“Look here,” Kyle said, picking up the damaged wood and showing it to Caine and Macklin. “It’s the same as the last time. Someone is damaging our fences deliberately.”
“But who?” Caine said. “And why?”
“That isn’t important right now,” Macklin interrupted. “Yes, we need to figure it out, but first we have to get the fence repaired and the sheep back in their pen. I don’t like the look of those clouds.”
Sure enough, dark clouds hovered on the horizon to the west of the station. “Macklin’s right,” Caine said. “We’ll worry about the whos and whys later. You said you’d already sent everyone else out after the sheep. That means we get to repair the fence.”
“Get started,” Macklin ordered. “I’m going to ride out and check on the others.”
Caine felt the rejection keenly. He and Macklin had managed to avoid each other most of the time and remain cordial to each other when they couldn’t, but it was obvious to everyone that the camaraderie of Caine’s early days on the station was gone. None of the jackaroos had worked up the nerve to ask Caine about it, and he was sure they hadn’t dared ask Macklin, but Caine could see the question on their faces each time Macklin made an excuse not to work with Caine.
Over the next few hours as Caine, Kyle, and Ian repaired the fence, jackaroos rode back in, driving a few sheep at a time before them. “Why are they so scattered?” Caine finally asked. “I thought they usually stayed pretty clumped together for warmth and protection.”
“We saw dog prints,” Ben replied. “If they got out of the valley and ran into a pack of feral dogs, they would have run in any and every direction they could. It could take days to find them all.”
“Days we don’t have if that storm keeps moving in,” Kyle said.
“We’ll do what we have to do,” Caine insisted. “The fence is ready. Kyle, Ian, I think it’s time for us to ride out too.”
The rain held off until three that afternoon. The jackaroos put on their drizabones and kept right on searching for the missing sheep, but when it had not abated by the next day and got steadily worse, Caine had enough. He could barely feel his fingers on Titan’s reins, and he couldn’t imagine anyone else was faring better.
“We’re not doing anything in this mess but risking out own lives,” he declared. “Call everyone back in.”
“Yes, boss,” Kyle said, pulling out the radio and passing on Caine’s orders. The radio crackled as replies came back, acknowledging Caine’s decision.
The ground was muddy, even boggy in places, the horses’ hooves squelching in the mud as they struggled to keep their footing on the steeper inclines. At one point, Caine jumped off Titan and let the horse find his own path to the bottom of a bad hill. He knew there was a risk the horse would bolt, but since he was sure they wouldn’t make it down the hill together, it was a risk he decided to take. Fortunately, Titan waited for him at the bottom of the hill. Caine remounted, and they continued on toward home when Kyle’s radio crackled to life again.
“It’s Neil, boss. He says he can’t get back. He’s going to wait it out in the drover’s hut near the western boundary fence.”
“Tell him to radio in every fifteen minutes until he gets there,” Caine ordered. “I can deal with losing sheep. I won’t lose men.”
Kyle relayed the order. Neil checked in once before he radioed back to say the hut was cut off as well.
“Bloody hell,” Caine cursed, Macklin’s favorite phrase slipping out of his mouth without conscious thought. “Kyle, do you know more or less where he is?”
“More or less,” Kyle said.
“Okay, what’s keeping him from getting home?”
“Floods,” Kyle said. “There’s a run-off gully he’d have to cross that can fill up fast in weather like this. Without a guide to get across, he’s stuck on the other side.”
“And how do we give him a guide?”
“Two strong ropes to create a passage so he doesn’t get swept downstream if his horse loses his footing.”
Caine looked down at the length of rope on his saddle. “I’ve got one. You’ve got one. Is anyone closer to him than us?”
“No.”
“Then let’s go. I meant it when I said I wasn’t losing men, and it’s too wet and cold for him to survive out here without shelter.”
“Are you sure, boss? We could radio in to the station, have someone ride out.”
“We’re a good hour from the station, probably more at the rate we’re riding, and Neil’s farther out than we are,” Caine pointed out. “That’s time for the weather to get worse, the floods to get worse, and Neil to get hypothermia. Tell them what we’re doing and where we’re going. Have them send help if they can, but we can’t afford to wait.”
“Okay, boss,” Kyle said. “Let’s go.” Kyle talked as he rode, leading Caine back into the outback. Caine could hear the shouts as Macklin protested their decision, but Caine refused to listen. Neil needed help, and Caine could give it.
“He’s going to tear you a new one when we get back.”
“If we all get back in one piece, he can yell all he wants,” Caine replied.
It took longer than Caine expected to reach the flooded gully that had Neil trapped. Then they had to ride along it until they could find Neil and a place where they could secure the ropes to create a guide.
“You all right, Neil?” Caine called above the noise of the rushing water.
“A little cold, but nothing I can’t handle.”
“You’re about to get wetter, if not colder,” Caine warned, “but I don’t see any other option.”
“No worries. A little water isn’t going to hurt me.”
They all knew it was a lie as they watched the flood waters race down the mountain. “Any idea how deep it is?” Caine asked.
“A good meter would be my guess,” Kyle said, “maybe even a meter and a half in places. Too deep for a man to cross on foot. The problem for the horses isn’t the depth but the current.”
“So how do we get the rope across?”
“If Macklin were here, he’d ride that bloody-minded beast of his across,” Kyle said. “Nothing fazes that horse.”
“Well, he’s not here, and we don’t know when or if he will be. Any other suggestions?”
“We can try tossing it across. It might be heavy enough to go the distance.”
“It’s worth a try,” Caine said.
Kyle took the coil of thick rope from his saddle and tied one end to a tree along the bank. He threw the other end toward Neil, but it fell short, landing in the water. Kyle pulled it back in and tried again, but laden with water, it fell even closer to the near bank the second time.
“Give it to me,” Caine said, “and tie the other one as well. I’m only doing this once.”
“Boss, I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
“Neither am I,” Caine admitted, “but I won’t ask someone else to do something I’m not willing to do myself. Tie one end to the tree and the other end to me. That way you can pull me out if you have to.”
Kyle looked like he wanted to argue more, but he did as Caine requested, knotting the dry rope around Caine’s waist and to the same tree as the first rope. “Okay, Titan,” Caine said, patting the gelding’s neck, “Macklin said you were a goo
d, steady mount who knew what you were doing. He hasn’t been wrong yet. Take good care of me, buddy.”
Titan shook his mane and snorted, prancing a little when Caine directed him into the water, but with enough prodding, he started across the flooded gully. The water rose over Caine’s boots, soaking his feet and calves as they crossed. Titan lost his footing once but regained it before he pitched Caine into the water. Then suddenly they were at the other side.
Caine handed Neil the other end of the wet rope. “Tie it around your waist. It’s not what Kyle suggested, but if I have to choose between saving you and saving the horse, the choice is to save you.”
“I’m sorry for all the names I called you, boss,” Neil said. “You didn’t have to come back out here to help me. You didn’t have to risk your life to save mine. I won’t give you any more trouble. From here on out, I’m your man.”
Caine nodded. “Good to know. Now, we’re both soaked and those waters are still rising while we sit here talking. Get across.”
“What about you?”
“I’m right behind you,” Caine promised. “I’m ready to be home and dry.”
“On my way, boss.”
Caine waited until Neil was halfway across the gully before he urged Titan back toward the water. The horse balked more firmly this time. “I know,” Caine said, patting the animal’s neck reassuringly. “I don’t really want to get back in there either, but it’s the only way to get home. The sooner you get across, the sooner we can both get dry.”
By the time Titan moved into the water, Neil and his horse were climbing free on the other side. Caine turned his attention back to Titan, steadying him as best he could, doing everything he knew how to keep the horse calm. They had almost reached the far bank when a branch from upstream crashed into Titan’s legs. The gelding reared, unseating Caine as he bolted for the bank.