by Ariel Tachna
“I wasn’t meddling,” Macklin insisted. “I saw Jesse buying condoms at Woolworths. I figured a little caution was in order.”
“Careful there,” Caine joked, “or I’ll think you want me to win our bet.”
Macklin frowned and pulled away, much to Caine’s surprise.
“Don’t push, pup,” Macklin said, his voice as serious as Caine had ever heard it. “I know what you want, but some stupid bet isn’t the way to get it. I’m just not ready.”
Questions sprang to Caine’s lips, demands for an explanation, a reason why, of what Caine could do that he hadn’t already done to prove to Macklin that he was here to stay, that Macklin could trust him with this as he trusted Caine with his heart and his home. Then he looked at Macklin, took in the stiff, almost defensive set to his shoulders, the way he seemed tensed for an argument or a blow or both, and he relented. No matter how much Macklin’s continued refusal baffled and hurt Caine, fighting over it would only make it worse. “I guess you’ll have to use that new bottle of lube on me then.”
Macklin summoned a smile and opened his arm. Caine stepped into the embrace.
“I’m sorry, pup. I’m trying.”
“And I’ll keep trying to be patient.”
LYING IN bed later, listening to Caine’s light snuffling, Macklin stifled a sigh. He wanted to give Caine what he wanted. He hated the hurt Caine couldn’t quite hide each time Macklin drew back from letting him top. He knew it wasn’t rational, but he couldn’t get past the fear of giving up control. Part of it was his father, but the rest, the larger part, was the jackaroos who looked to him for orders. He’d heard the occasional comment when the men didn’t know he was nearby, speculating on him and Caine. “No way a man like Armstrong lets anyone fuck him.”
They could deal with him being gay and living with Caine, but they still expected him to be the foreman, the one forever and always in charge. They’d lost some men they couldn’t really afford to lose after he and Caine had settled their differences and committed to a future together. Not as many as Macklin had feared, but still too many. They’d replaced them in Yass, but not all of them were of Jesse’s caliber, much less the caliber of the men who had left. He’d managed to make it work and to keep Caine in the dark about how much extra work Macklin and the year-rounders who remained were doing to keep things running smoothly. He intended to see that it stayed that way. Caine had such plans for the station, good plans that Macklin believed in, if they could just train and keep the men they needed. They couldn’t take another hit, not now. A year from now, two years, when they’d worked off the bad winter that had preceded Michael’s death, it wouldn’t matter as much, but they needed every cent from every strand of wool and every lamb they could sell. Caine didn’t seem worried that they’d run a bit in the red last quarter, but then he’d gone and announced that his parents—his mother, who owned the station, no matter that Caine was her representative—were coming for Christmas. They’d be at the station in six weeks, and Macklin intended to prove to Mrs. Neiheisel that she’d made the right choice in keeping the station and sending Caine to run it. He knew from talking to Caine that Caine had convinced his parents to keep the station and to let Caine take charge of it, and he had no doubt Caine stood by that choice, but he couldn’t help feeling that he was about to stand inspection having been caught with his pants down, and not just down, but down from fucking the boss’s son.
Caine was thriving on the station. He barely stuttered anymore. He’d won the respect and affection of the year-rounders and even many of the new jackaroos. Even Kami liked him, a feat unto itself since Macklin was pretty sure Kami didn’t like anyone just on principle. They might never be rich—the biggest value at the station was the land itself—but they’d never go hungry either, and with all Caine’s plans, in a year or two, they stood to profit from the growing interest in organic meat. They just had to stay the course. Caine’s mother had to let them stay the course, and that meant convincing her he was the right man to stand at Caine’s side, something he’d never do if he lost the respect of the men who worked for them.
“Go to sleep,” Caine murmured at his side. “Whatever the problem is, it’s not as bad as you think. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
Macklin flushed at being caught brooding. He rolled onto his side, spooning up behind Caine, determined to put all the negative thoughts out of his head for now. He could borrow trouble another time.
“FUCK, THAT hurts,” Chris said as he tried to do the stretches the doctor had said were necessary to regain the flexibility in the ligaments of his elbow. “I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can,” Jesse insisted. The sun had nearly reached the horizon to the west, but it would be some hours still before it was dark. The breeze had cooled down finally from the heat of the day, allowing them to sit outside on the veranda of the bunkhouse to do Chris’s exercises. “You already have more range of motion than you did when the cast first came off. That night in Boorowa, you could barely move your elbow at all. Now you’ve got at least fifty percent of your range of motion back. You’re getting stronger too. You couldn’t have lifted that full pitchfork when your cast first came off either.”
“One full pitchfork before my arm gave out,” Chris muttered. “Whole bloody lot of help that is.”
“Stop it,” Jesse said, smacking Chris lightly on the back of the head. “You’re feeling sorry for yourself, and it’s not attractive.”
“Yeah, well, neither is being helpless.”
Jesse sighed. They’d had this discussion every day for the past two weeks since Chris first got his cast off. Jesse could see the progress Chris was making. He didn’t know why Chris couldn’t see it. Most of the time he thought of Chris as his contemporary, but every once in a while, Chris did something that reminded Jesse of the difference in their ages. Eight years wasn’t insurmountable, and indeed most of the time it was negligible, but right at the moment, it seemed like an impossible divide between them.
“You aren’t helpless,” he said, his words sharper than he intended them to be. “You’re regaining strength and flexibility every day. Everyone sees that but you, and everyone but you is getting tired of the pity party. Get over yourself already.”
The shock on Chris’s face nearly made Jesse apologize, but he had to stick to his guns or nothing would change. He wanted his Chris back, the one who flirted and laughed and made the best of even a bad situation, not this sulky kid who couldn’t be arsed to do anything but whine about how much his exercises hurt. Jesse was sure they hurt, but they were a necessary evil if Chris wanted to recover fully.
“I’m sorry to be such a bother,” Chris said stiffly, rising from his seat and starting to leave the veranda. “I won’t disturb you again.”
“Bloody hell. Chris, wait. That isn’t what I meant.” He grabbed Chris’s good arm to stop him from leaving. “Helping you isn’t a bother. Having you around isn’t a bother. It’s just frustrating that you’re in such a bad mood all the time. I miss laughing and joking with you. Getting your cast off was supposed to make things better, not worse. Look, I’m supposed to go up in the highlands tomorrow with Neil and Ian. Why don’t you come along? It’ll be a day of working with the dogs and watching the mob, nothing challenging for your arm, but nothing you won’t be able to do either. You can see a different side of being a jackaroo. It’s not all sheep dags and feeding the lambs.”
“I’d have to check with Macklin,” Chris said. “I don’t know what he has planned for tomorrow, but if he says yes, maybe that would be a good thing. Caine’s been helping me with my riding, and Titan is pretty docile. I should be able to ride out with you for the day.”
CHRIS WASN’T so sure going with Jesse, Neil, and Ian was such a good idea when his elbow twinged as soon as he tried to mount Titan the next morning, but he gritted his teeth and tried again, managing to pull himself into the saddle. No one seemed to notice the gracelessness of the motion, or if they did, they were too tactful to say anything.
Chris could live with either option.
They rode out a moment later, Neil and his dog Max in the lead. Fortunately no one seemed in any hurry, both man and animal lethargic in the predawn gloom. Chris let Titan follow the other horses with a minimum of guidance, trusting his mount not to lead him astray. Fortunately Caine’s assessment of the animal seemed accurate because Titan plodded willingly along behind the others, leaving Chris to stretch his elbow surreptitiously. He had to get his range of motion back.
As dawn approached and the sky lightened more, Chris switched his attention from his injury to the men in front of him. Neil and Ian lived on the station year-round, full-time jackaroos. Jesse might only work on stations in the summer, but Chris could detect no difference in the way the men sat their horses. Jesse’s body language proclaimed his ease on horseback, riding out to tend the mob.
The sun had just peeked above the horizon, less of a feat now that they were out of the valley, when Neil led them to one of the drover’s huts Chris and Jesse had stocked at the beginning of the season.
“Morning,” Kyle called, stepping out of the hut.
“Morning,” Neil replied. “How was the night?”
“Quiet,” Kyle said, “but I noticed tracks on the edge of the paddock yesterday when we got up here. A dingo from the looks of it, and they weren’t old.”
“Not with the rain from a few days ago,” Neil agreed. “You didn’t see it last night?”
“No, the mob was quiet, and we didn’t see or hear any sign of the dingo either.”
“We’ll hope he was just passing through,” Ian said, “but thanks for the warning.”
“Max will let us know if the dingo comes back,” Neil said. “We can take a minute and have some coffee.” He held up the thermos he carried.
Chris wasn’t much of a coffee drinker, but it was still cool this early in the morning and something hot sounded wonderful.
“I have tea if you’d prefer that,” Jesse added.
Chris brightened immediately. “I’ll have some if you don’t mind sharing.”
“I brought it to share,” Jesse assured him. “Next time, though, think about grabbing another thermos. It never hurts to have more.”
Chris flushed, but Neil clapped him on the shoulder. “No worries, mate. You’ll learn all the tricks if you stick with us.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“We’ll make a jackaroo out of you,” Ian agreed. “You’re not any worse than some of the other blow-ins we got stuck with this season, and you’ve got a smile to go along with your inexperience. I hope Macklin gets rid of some of those drongos at the end of the summer. I don’t have a problem with him and the boss—don’t give me that look, Neil. You were the one with the bad attitude, not me—but it’s cost us this summer.”
“How?” Chris asked.
“We lost some people, more than usual, blokes who didn’t come back after they found out about Caine, and not everyone we hired to replace them is as good as the people we lost,” Neil said. “But we’re making it work.”
“And we’ll keep making it work,” Ian agreed. “I didn’t mean otherwise. We’re just keeping even longer hours than usual this summer.”
“I won’t be a drag on the station much longer,” Chris promised. “My arm’s getting better every day.”
“Now you’re putting words in my mouth,” Ian protested. “You worked with Kami the whole time you had the cast on and now that it’s off, you’re doing what you can. I had a friend in school who busted up his elbow and didn’t take care of it when he got the cast off. He never did recover from that completely. Nobody’s asking you to get better faster. The difference is your attitude. You’re worried about being a drain on the station. You volunteered to ride out with us today so you could learn more about the operation. That’s a whole different kettle of fish from what some of these drongos are doing. They’re trying to do as little as possible without getting Macklin’s boot in the arse.”
“So you really don’t mind having me tag along?” Chris asked.
“Not at all,” Neil said, finishing his coffee. A bark from Max drew his attention. “Let’s go see what Max has found.”
They trooped back outside to the open paddock where a small mob of about thirty sheep grazed peacefully. Max stood at the top of the nearby ridge, body on full alert.
“Whatever it is, Max doesn’t like it,” Ian said.
“Which means I don’t either,” Neil added, mounting his horse. “Chris, you may want to stay down here.”
“No, I’ll come,” Chris insisted, finding it easier to mount Titan this time. The ride had loosened up his elbow. “I’ll stay out of the way, but I need to see so I can learn.”
Max yipped again as they headed up to the ridge to where he stood watch. “What did you find, Max?” Neil asked as they neared the dog.
Max yipped again. Neil dismounted. “Bloody snakes,” he muttered. “Looks like it got trampled, but now we have to check the lambs. It’s a tiger snake, not a brown snake, but if one got bit, we can’t sell it for meat this season.”
“The bite wouldn’t kill it?” Chris asked.
“Not one of those, no,” Neil said. “They’ll make you sick as a dingo, a sheep, too, but the venom isn’t deadly unless they get a newborn, which is why we keep them in the valley until they’re a few months old.” He picked up a stick and used it to carry the corpse to the edge of the paddock and toss it over the fence into the bush on the other side. “There, not a problem anymore.”
“Other than checking the sheep,” Jesse said.
“Yeah, well, I was being optimistic.”
Jesse and Ian laughed and all four of them rode back down to the mob. “Ian, why don’t you and Chris check the sheep and Jesse and I will drive the stragglers back down to the mob?”
“Will do,” Ian said. “Ready to wrestle some sheep, Chris?”
“I’m game,” Chris said, refusing to worry about his arm and whether he could handle a full-grown sheep in his current condition.
Ian led the way to the largest group of sheep, dismounting easily. “Check their legs,” he said. “That snake wasn’t big enough to get to their bellies.”
“What am I looking for? I mean, fang marks, but their wool has already started to grow back in. I’m not sure I can see the skin.”
“Swelling, limping, anything to suggest they’re injured,” Ian explained, “because even if it isn’t a snake bite, if they’ve got any of those problems, we need to take a closer look at it.”
Chris nodded and started examining the sheep. Ian, he noticed, ran his hands over each animal’s legs, so Chris imitated him, hoping he’d be able to feel the difference if one limb was swollen. If he felt anything suspicious, he’d get Ian to check it too.
“Bloody hell,” Ian muttered a few minutes later.
“Did you find something?”
“Yeah,” Ian said. “Come see what you think.”
Chris thought he’d agree with whatever Ian said because he sure as hell didn’t know what he was looking for, but he peered obediently at the lamb Ian held.
“See the joint swelling?”
“Yeah, here,” Chris said, pointing. “On its ankle.”
“Yeah, its pastern,” Ian said. “The snake probably only got one, but we should still check the others just to be on the safe side.”
“What do we do for that one?”
“Isolate it for now,” Ian said. “Keep an eye on it and make sure it survives. If it does, we’ll have to see what shape it’s in come time for breeding, because we can’t sell it for meat. Who knows how long the venom lingers in the muscles after the swelling goes down? I don’t know if we need another ram, but maybe we can sell it to Taylor or one of the other graziers.”
“Yeah,” Chris said. “I can take it back to the drover’s hut and put it in the lean-to for the time being.”
“No worries. Neil and Max will drive it down there after we’re done checking the rest of the mob. As stiffly a
s this chap’s walking, we aren’t likely to mistake him for another.”
“So the male lambs usually get sold for meat?” Chris asked as he went back to checking the mob.
“That’s the way it usually goes,” Ian agreed. “We keep a few rams, of course, for breeding in the fall, but they’re more trouble than they’re worth almost, so we don’t keep any extras, and we only keep enough female lambs to replace the aging breeding stock. We sell the rest for meat. The idea is sustainable organic methods, and that means a stable herd size.”
“I guess I never realized it was so complicated.”
Ian laughed. “Ask to see the breeding book sometime. That’s complicated, but Macklin has it down to an art. I worked a couple of other stations before settling here. You won’t find a better foreman than ours, and with Caine doing all the research on the organic farming methods, we really are on the edge of great things.”
“Even short-handed?”
“Even short-handed. Here come Neil and Jesse with the stragglers. Let’s check them while Neil and Max take care of our invalid.”
Ian explained the situation to Neil while Chris started checking the sheep Jesse drove his way. Fortunately, none of the others seemed bitten.
“Nothing like a little excitement to start the day,” Jesse said when they had finished.
Chris chuckled. “So it’s not always this exciting?”
“No,” Jesse said with a wide grin that made Chris’s insides wobble. “Usually it’s a lot of sitting or standing around and waiting for the shift to be over. And maybe checking fences and stuff. Speaking of, if you feel up to a little ride, we could check the fences while Neil and Ian finish with the injured lamb.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Chris laughed, but he could feel his body reacting. Even if they just got a few kisses in, it would be a nice break after the crazy week they’d had. Chris was about ready to suggest checking all the drover’s huts again, just to have a few minutes alone with Jesse. Riding fences wouldn’t exactly give them time for sex, but Chris would take what he could get.