by Ariel Tachna
“You aren’t fine,” Jesse snapped. “You just told me everything hurt.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name,” Caine said to Jesse.
“Jesse Harris,” Jesse said. “Chris and I talked a little last night and a little more just now, and he’s got a broken arm and busted ribs. He won’t take the prescription because it knocks him out and he feels like he needs to be working, so he’s biting his cheek and trying to deal with it, but that’s going to make things worse, not better.”
“Slow down,” Caine said, his voice amused. “Chris, is he telling the truth?”
Chris kicked at the ground with the toe of his boot. “Yes, but he wasn’t supposed to tell you,” he said sullenly. “I’ll be fine.”
“Yes, you will be,” Caine said, “but there’s no reason to slow that process down. You’ve been working since before breakfast. You should go upstairs and take whatever the doctor gave you. If you sleep through dinner, we’ll have Seth bring you a plate. You can work breakfast again tomorrow so you feel like you’re contributing, but I’ll check in with you after that, and you will tell me if you’re in pain.”
“I don’t need special treatment,” Chris protested.
Caine cocked an eyebrow at him. “That lump of plaster on your arm says you do for now. We aren’t b-babying you, and we aren’t talking d-down to you, Chris. As soon as you are healed, we will work you as hard as we do everyone else, but you have to let yourself get well or you could end up permanently disabled, and then who would take care of Seth?”
“That’s a low blow.”
“It wasn’t intended to be one,” Caine said. “It was intended to make you look at all the consequences of your choices, that’s all.”
“Fine, I’ll go inside and take a pill, but if I don’t come down to dinner, send Seth to get me,” Chris insisted. “I don’t want anyone waiting on me like an invalid.”
He walked back toward the house, doing his best to walk like his ribs weren’t broken and his whole body didn’t hurt.
“WALK WITH me, Jesse,” Caine said when Chris crossed the veranda and went inside.
“Sir?” Jesse asked, hoping he hadn’t done something to upset his new boss already.
“I need to find Macklin, and he’s supposed to be out in the sheds,” Caine said, “but I want to t-talk to you as well, so walk with me.”
Jesse fell in step beside Caine, waiting to see what the grazier wanted.
“This is your first season on Lang Downs, isn’t it?” Caine asked after a moment.
“Yes,” Jesse replied. “I worked out of Cowra and Grenfell the last few years, but I didn’t really find a station where I fit.”
“You seem to have made friends with Chris.”
“He’s a good kid from what I can tell,” Jesse said. “Maybe caught in a bad situation, but trying to do what’s right.”
“That was my impression as well. He wants to impress me, to thank me for helping him, and that’s fine, but he doesn’t trust me yet, and he’s not going to tell me if something is wrong,” Caine said. “I need you to be the kind of friend he needs and keep doing what you did today. If he’s pushing himself too hard and lets you see it, I need you to tell me. Macklin has driven into my head the fact that getting hurt or sick out here is bad from start to finish. I can’t change Chris being hurt, but I can do my best to keep him from making it worse.”
“You could just keep him in bed until his ribs have a chance to heal,” Jesse suggested.
“I don’t want to break his spirit while I’m helping his body heal,” Caine said.
“Me spying on him isn’t going to help his spirit,” Jesse said. “He needs a friend, someone he really can trust to look out for him.”
“Then find ways to keep him from overdoing,” Caine said. “I’ll tell him and Kami both that he’s off duty after breakfast cleanup for the next week, but he’ll find ways to fill his time if I do that and don’t order him to bed.”
“How am I supposed to do that? I have chores of my own to do,” Jesse protested. “Macklin said the big tractor stopped running. Patrick and I have to tear the whole engine apart to figure out what’s wrong with it.”
“So have him hand you tools,” Caine suggested.
“He isn’t a mechanic,” Jesse said.
“Maybe not, but I bet he knows the difference between a wrench and a screwdriver,” Caine said with a chuckle. “The point isn’t whether you need his help. The point is to make him rest until he’s well enough to work a full day. There’s Macklin. I’ll leave you to your repairs.”
Jesse watched Caine walk across the shed to where Macklin stood, checking the preparations for shearing which would begin in a few days. Macklin smiled briefly when Caine joined him, the expression so fleeting Jesse wasn’t entirely sure he’d seen it, but it was more than anyone else got. Jesse wondered if other people saw it, the tiny little signs of a deeper relationship, or if he was the only one sensitive to it because he was a gay man in a world that wouldn’t, he’d believed until now, accept him as he was.
Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he headed toward the shed where the tractor was parked. Maybe Patrick had found something while he was talking to Chris and they could get the bloody machine fixed.
BY THE time dinner rolled around, Jesse was ready to quit. They’d done everything they could think of short of taking the engine completely apart and rebuilding it, all to no avail. He tossed the wrench in the toolbox with a satisfying clang. “I don’t suppose Kami has beer in the kitchen,” he asked Patrick with a groan.
“I doubt Kami does, but I’ll spot you one until you get into town and can pick up a supply of your own,” Patrick offered. “My wife won’t mind one more for dinner.”
“Jason’s been in the canteen at every meal. Why don’t you do the same?”
Patrick chuckled. “We take advantage of every opportunity we get to spend a little time together without Jason listening in. He’s a great boy, but he’s not one to leave his parents much time to themselves.”
“Then I shouldn’t impose,” Jesse said. “Someone else will spot me a beer or let me buy one off him. I don’t want to put you out.”
“It’s not an imposition,” Patrick said. “I invited you. Even if you don’t stay for dinner, you can still come have a beer.”
Jesse acquiesced, following Patrick back to the little house he shared with his wife and Jason. “Carley,” Patrick called as they walked inside, “we have company.”
Patrick’s wife was a beautiful woman in her mid- to late-thirties with pitch black hair and a smile as wide as the night sky. “Come in, don’t be shy,” she said when she saw Jesse standing in the doorway still.
“My boots aren’t exactly clean, ma’am,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your floor.”
“You think my son is that considerate?” Carley said with a laugh. “Take them off and leave them on the veranda. I won’t mind sock feet in the house. Did Patrick offer you a beer?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jesse said, undoing his boots and leaving them outside. He came into the living room, hat held awkwardly between his hands. It had been so long since he’d been invited anywhere that he had to remember how to act.
“Patrick likes to sit on the back veranda and watch the sun set if you want to join him,” Carley suggested.
“Is there anything I can do to help you?”
“No, but you’re sweet to offer. Your mum raised you right.”
“Thank you,” Jesse said, although he doubted his mother would agree with that given she hadn’t spoken to him since he told her he was gay. That didn’t mean he’d forgotten all her lessons in manners, though.
Before he could say anything else, Patrick stuck his head out from the kitchen. “I have Tooheys Old or Carlton Sterling.”
“Tooheys, please,” Jesse said, following Patrick through the house and onto the veranda again. He took a sip of the beer and settled into the seat Patrick didn’t choose. “How long have you been on
Lang Downs?”
“Almost thirteen years,” Patrick said. “Jason was a baby. I’d lost my job in Melbourne, and I was desperate. Someone suggested I take a look at the stations up here in the tablelands. Carley and I talked about it a lot, but there wasn’t anything in Melbourne, and her part-time job didn’t pay the bills, so I came up here and met Michael Lang. That first year, Carley and Jason stayed in Melbourne, but that was no way to live. When Michael asked me to stay on past the summer, I mentioned my family. He asked me why I’d waited so long to say something and immediately handed me money for bus tickets. We’ve been here ever since.”
“From what everyone has said, he sounds like he was an amazing man,” Jesse said. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet him.”
“He was a special man,” Patrick agreed. “We were all a little worried when we heard the station had gone to a relative in the States. Then Caine came. We worried for nothing.”
“He seems pretty universally liked,” Jesse said. “I would’ve thought, well, sheep stations aren’t exactly known for being tolerant.”
Patrick shrugged. “They aren’t known for being organic either, but we will be in less than six months. Macklin has been here since he was a kid and foreman longer than most of us have been here. People trust him, and he trusts Caine. That counts for a lot. Then there’s the fact that Caine didn’t sell the place. He came and he learned and he made improvements. Sure the men were shocked when they found out he was gay, but that doesn’t affect his ability to run the station.”
“I’d think Macklin would be the bigger shock.”
Patrick chuckled. “Yes, but would you want to be the one to say something to his face?”
Jesse spewed beer as he tried to swallow and cough at the same time. “Hell, no,” he said when he could speak without choking. “I don’t have a death wish.”
“And so life goes on as it always has,” Patrick said. “Only with a little more tolerance.”
“Yeah, I heard Neil’s speech yesterday when we got here. He was very clear about what wouldn’t be allowed in his hearing.”
“Neil’s a hothead who had a ‘come to Jesus’ moment when Caine risked his life to save Neil’s during a bad storm over the winter.”
“I’ve heard a couple references to that, but everybody knows the story so no one tells it.”
“Long story short, Neil got trapped on the wrong side of a flooded gulley. Caine rode across and got him and nearly drowned on the way back across,” Patrick recounted. “That’s when we found out about Macklin too. I’ve known him since we got here, and I’ve never seen him like he was that day.”
“How was that?”
“Scared.”
Jesse couldn’t imagine it, but he hadn’t been here, so he didn’t dispute it.
“That’s how we knew it was something real, not just screwing around,” Patrick added. “If anyone else had done what Caine did, Macklin might have yelled, but he wouldn’t have been scared.”
“I wonder if they would be as tolerant of someone other than Caine and Macklin,” Jesse said.
“I think that would depend on the man,” Patrick replied, “but it would take quite a drongo to say something derogatory, even about someone else, on a station run by two gay men. You don’t have to worry about being run off.”
“I wasn’t, I mean, why do you think I’m talking about myself?” Jesse stumbled.
“Because if you’d been worried about Chris, you would have said so,” Patrick replied. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told everyone when Caine first came out to us. I don’t care what you do with another consenting adult. I just don’t want to hear about it, and I don’t want Jason hearing about it. And before you get upset, I say the same thing to the jackaroos who spend the summer chasing the girls.”
Six
“CHRIS, I put toothpaste on your toothbrush for you already. I’m going down because I promised Jason I’d meet him early this morning.”
“Thanks,” Chris called as he struggled to get his shirt buttoned. He could have called Seth back and asked for help, but he hated not being able to do even the simplest tasks for himself. Like putting toothpaste on his toothbrush.
His ribs didn’t hurt as badly after two weeks of working with Kami in the morning and handing Jesse and Patrick tools in the afternoon, but that didn’t help any with the chunk of plaster on his arm that kept him from bending his elbow. “Bloody hell,” he muttered as the final button on the shirt came loose while he was trying to fasten it. “Now I have to find a needle and thread and fix the stupid thing.”
He sighed and stuck the button in his trouser pocket. He’d worry about that later. Right now he needed to brush his teeth and get downstairs to help Kami.
He grabbed the toothbrush from the edge of the sink where Seth left it and started to brush.
The taste nearly choked him. He spit, rinsed his mouth, and spit again. “What the hell?” he shouted. “Seth!”
Not thinking about Caine and Macklin possibly still asleep in their room down the hall, Chris tore down the stairs, determined to find his little brother and thrash him within an inch of his life. Practical jokes were one thing. Shaving cream on his toothbrush was plain old disgusting.
Seth wasn’t anywhere in sight when Chris hit the main road through the station, which surprised Chris. Seth usually liked to hang around at a safe distance so he could see the results of his pranks. It often meant he got caught, but he said it wasn’t any fun if he couldn’t see the expression on people’s faces. Since most of his pranks were mischievous rather than dangerous, getting caught usually meant a bit of yelling or being grounded for a few days, but nothing to actually dissuade him from the next one. Chris could deal with the pranks, even shaving cream on his toothbrush, as long as they were directed at him. He needed to find Seth and convince him playing pranks on anyone else was a recipe for disaster. He’d get a reputation as a troublemaker and suspicion would fall on him every time something bad happened, even if he wasn’t involved.
“He’s over here.”
Jesse’s voice drew Chris’s attention.
“I caught him hiding in the shadows outside the bunkhouse,” Jesse said, stepping into the pool of light from the light on the veranda. “I don’t know what he was up to, but I figured it couldn’t be anything good.”
“He thought it would be funny to put shaving cream on my toothbrush,” Chris told Jesse, the lingering taste making him want to spit again even though he’d washed his mouth out twice. “Like most everything else, I can’t do it myself at the moment.”
Jesse gave Seth a little shake. “Not cool,” he said. “It might have been funny if he weren’t hurt, but you don’t take advantage of someone who’s down and out. That isn’t a joke. That’s just cruel. It’s like kicking a stray dog looking for scraps. Or ganging up on a guy five to one. You didn’t think it was funny when those thugs hurt Chris. Why would you do the same thing to him?”
“I’m sorry,” Seth said, his eyes downcast. “It’s just, I’ve always played tricks on him. I thought it would make him laugh and it would be like old times.”
“Go tell Kami what you did and see if he has a new toothbrush Chris can have,” Jesse ordered, giving Seth a little push toward the house. “If he doesn’t, you’re going to give Chris yours and you’re going to use his.”
“Gross,” Seth said.
“Then you’d better hope Kami gives you a new toothbrush,” Jesse said.
“He didn’t really mean to hurt me,” Chris said when Seth was gone.
“I’m sure he didn’t,” Jesse agreed, “but he’s outgrowing the age where he can get away with thoughtless pranks.”
“I know he is,” Chris said with a sigh, “but it’s been a hard few months. I’m glad he has the chance to be a kid again, even if it won’t last for long.”
“He hasn’t really said what happened that you ended up at the wrong end of somebody’s fists in Yass,” Jesse said.
“It’s not a pretty story,” Chris
replied. “He doesn’t like to talk about it.”
“You don’t either,” Jesse surmised.
“There’s not a lot to tell,” Chris said. “Our mum died. Her husband kicked us out. We did what we had to do to survive and stay together. Then Caine and Macklin found us and here we are.”
“Somehow I doubt it’s that simple,” Jesse said, “but I won’t push. You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
Chris scrubbed his hand over his face, grimacing at the scraggly beard that had grown in since he’d last been able to shave. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he said. “It’s just… I don’t like to think of it, you know? None of us come out of it looking good.”
“Unless you’re going to tell me you killed somebody for his wallet, you probably aren’t going to say anything that would change how I see you,” Jesse replied. “You kept your brother safe when it shouldn’t have been your job.”
More than a little uncomfortable with the praise when he was keenly aware of all the ways he’d let Seth down, Chris tried to change the subject. “I will be so glad when this bloody cast comes off. I can’t even shave.”
“I noticed you were getting a little scruffy there,” Jesse said. “I know you have to help with breakfast now, but I’ll help you shave tonight before bed if you want.”
“Really?” Chris said, the thought of getting rid of the itchy beard enough to offset the nerves at the thought of someone else near his face with a razor.
“Sure,” Jesse said. “It’s not all that hot yet, but I still can’t imagine trying to grow a beard going into summer. I can’t swear it’ll be the closest shave you’ve ever had, but I’m sure I can do better than you can with your left hand.”
“I haven’t even tried,” Chris admitted. “I picked up the razor and it felt so awkward I was afraid to even start.”
“Tonight,” Jesse said.
“It’s a date,” Chris replied, flushing to the roots of his blond hair when he realized what he’d said. “Um, I mean….”