The Last McAdam

by Holly Ford

  ‘I thought I’d come up with you tomorrow,’ she told Mitch. ‘Take a look at the tops.’

  There was a horrified silence. Mitch’s eyes flew to Nate, an expression of desperation on his face.

  ‘Ride up with me,’ Nate suggested, firmly. ‘You’ll get a better feel for the country.’

  ‘Okay.’ Tess kept her voice light, hoping to diffuse the sudden tension. ‘Good.’ She nodded again.

  ‘I’d better make tracks.’ Mitch put down his beer.

  ‘See you up there,’ Nate said.

  ‘Yeah.’ Harry necked the remains of his bottle. He turned to Mitch. ‘Come on, mate. I’ll follow you back to the house.’

  ‘You staying for tea, Nate?’ Stan asked, as Harry and Mitch crunched away down the gravel path.

  ‘No, mate.’ Nate’s cheek dimpled into the faintest hint of a smile. ‘I’m heading off too.’ He shot a look at Tess. ‘I’ll be at the stables at six-thirty.’

  Before she had time to get out a word, he was off down the path himself. Tess thought about calling him back to explain. Would he come? Deciding it wasn’t worth the risk, she followed Stan through the house to the kitchen.

  ‘Okay,’ she demanded. ‘What happened back there? What did I say?’

  ‘About what, love?’ Stan asked innocently.

  ‘Why can’t I fly with Mitch?’

  Stan was silent.

  Thinking of the covert briefing she’d overheard at the cottage, Tess tried a change of tactic. Be polite to her – wasn’t that one of Nate’s orders? ‘Does Mitch have a problem with me?’

  ‘No,’ Stan said quickly. ‘It’s nothing personal, love. Mitch doesn’t fly people, that’s all.’

  ‘He doesn’t fly people,’ Tess repeated.

  ‘Well – except Nate. Even then, he doesn’t like it.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Stan hesitated a moment more. ‘He lost his bottle in the war,’ he admitted, ‘poor kid.’

  The war? Tess struggled to make sense of what she was hearing. ‘You mean …’

  ‘Afghanistan,’ Stan supplied, with a nod. ‘He flew for the Royal Air Force over there.’

  Tess was speechless. A real veteran. From an actual war.

  ‘He’s a brave boy,’ Stan hurried on, ‘don’t get me wrong. Always was. Bright as a button too.’

  ‘I’m sure he is,’ Tess managed. Jesus Christ … She shuddered. Poor Mitch.

  ‘He just wasn’t cut out for that,’ Stan said. ‘Taking men to get hurt.’

  ‘No,’ she said gently. ‘I can see that.’

  •

  The next morning, Tess left for the stables in darkness, the sky above the eastern range just beginning to blue. By the time she’d parked the truck, a soft grey light was spreading over the valley and the first rays of sun were picking out the jagged tips of the Southern Alps on the western horizon. As she switched off her headlights, a shadowy figure led a horse to the block and mounted up. Harry. Leaving early to avoid riding up with her, no doubt. He nodded, lifting the reins briefly in her direction as he headed out through the gate, his face lost in the shadows of his hat.

  The day was utterly still, the dust damped down by the chill of the night. Grabbing her own hat from the passenger seat, Tess zipped up the neck of her sweater and stood aside as a dog trotted up to raise its leg on the HiLux’s back tyre.

  ‘Hey.’ Nate emerged from the stable, a solid-looking bay gelding in tow. Tethering the horse to the rail, his eyes flicked over Tess as she walked up to join him. ‘I forgot to ask,’ he smiled, ‘but I guess you do ride.’

  ‘A bit.’ Sliding her hand under the horse’s halter, Tess gave his cheek a scratch. He reminded her of the first hunter she’d had.

  ‘This is Barney,’ Nate said. ‘I thought we’d put you on him.’

  She could feel his eyes still on her, assessing her level of comfort. Choosing not to mention that she’d once been captain of the junior polo team, she ran her hand down Barney’s neck. It had been a while. ‘Okay,’ she said.

  As Nate disappeared back into the stables, Tess stowed her gear on Barney’s saddle, checked the girth, and swung up. Reining away from the mounting block, she looked up the valley. God, it felt good to be back on a horse. And what a morning for a ride. It was hard to believe she was getting paid for this.

  Nate re-emerged with a big, strapping grey, part quarter horse by the looks of him. His cheek dimpled at the sight of Tess already in the saddle. ‘Ready to go?’

  ‘When you are.’

  They rode out in silence, Nate’s four dogs at their heels, heading east into the shadowed hills, the river flat around them a cold, smoky blue. Ahead, Tess could hear the growing rush and clink of the river itself. Picking their way across the dried-up braids, they crossed its single remaining channel, the water barely up to the horses’ knees, and began to climb.

  The day had already started to warm when the chopper went by above them. It was that time already? Tess checked her watch. Ugh, she’d almost forgotten what she was doing up here. Which was looking for ways to get rid of this part of the process.

  Nate reined in, glancing over his shoulder at her. ‘How’s it going back there?’

  ‘Fine.’ It came out more harshly than she’d intended.

  ‘Everything okay?’ He looked her over as she came alongside, his eyes continuing over the horse, assessing saddle and stirrups.

  ‘Yes,’ Tess said. Another snap. Come on, she told herself, watching the little helicopter crest the ridge. It’s not his fault you have to do this. ‘So,’ she began, with a deep breath, ‘Stan told me Mitch has post-traumatic stress disorder.’

  ‘Stan,’ Nate repeated, ‘told you that.’

  ‘Not in so many words,’ she admitted, ‘but that was the gist of it.’

  Nate was silent.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me,’ Tess asked, ‘yesterday?’

  ‘I didn’t think it was anyone’s business but his.’

  Tess looked away, gazing out over the valley below. What she had to say next, she reminded herself, was the price she paid for working in country like this. ‘When it affects the way Mitch does his job, it’s my business,’ she told Nate. ‘Literally.’

  ‘It doesn’t.’ Nate’s voice was firm but calm, the way a good stockman instructed his dogs.

  ‘What if we need to get men up to the tops?’

  ‘The Robbie can only carry one.’ He paused, still studying the empty sky where the chopper had been. ‘Mitch takes me.’

  Tess sighed. ‘What happens when you’re not here?’

  Slowly, Nate turned his head to look at her, his eyes serious. ‘Do you know something I don’t?’

  She dropped his gaze. ‘I meant if you’re away – in town, or – or on holiday, or something …’ With a shake of her shoulders, she got back to her point. ‘What if there’s an emergency? If somebody else has to be flown somewhere?’

  ‘If it’s an emergency,’ he said, ‘I can fly them.’

  Oh for god’s sake. ‘You’re a pilot too?’

  ‘I’m not sure I’d say that.’ Nate shrugged. ‘Bob taught us both to fly the Robbie when we were kids. Mitch was always better at it than I was.’

  ‘If you can fly,’ Tess said, needled, ‘we don’t really need Mitch, then, do we?’

  Abruptly, Nate broke into a grin. God, when it caught you off guard like that, it took your breath away. ‘I didn’t say I had a licence.’

  For half a second, Tess stared at him. But it was hopeless. She had to laugh. Watching her, Nate’s eyes sparkled even more.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, still smiling as he kicked his horse on. ‘They’ll be starting without us.’

  With a shake of her head, Tess followed him up the slope. She could hear the Robbie’s rotors beating the sky, echoes bouncing from valley to valley as, high above, the chopper quartered the tops on the hunt for cattle.

  •

  By the end of the afternoon, Mitch had achieved what would have taken days with hors
es alone, driving the scattered mobs down from their alpine grazing grounds to be picked up by Nate and Harry below. As the flimsy-looking helicopter ducked and dived, heading off the calves as they broke, Tess had watched in awe. It looked like a master class in flying. Not to mention a whole lot of fun.

  She could understand why Mitch hadn’t wanted a passenger. Risks were easier to take when you had only yourself to worry about. Riding behind Broken Creek’s newly gathered Hereford herd, she cast a glance sideways at Nate. Ten hours into the day, he looked as calm and relaxed in the saddle as he had when they’d started out that morning, his face shaded below his battered felt hat, his shirt open over his singlet, all his attention on the cattle ahead. He seemed to know what they were going to do before they’d decided themselves.

  Away to the left, Harry and his dogs flanked the mob, riding wide. Some distance behind, and considerably higher than he’d been flying all day, Mitch was keeping an eye on them all, ready to swoop on trouble. The three of them had certainly turned in a pretty impressive performance today. If it was her own money tied up in this place, then maybe – Tess found her gaze drawn back to Nate again – maybe she’d take a chance on him … Him and his team, she added hurriedly to herself.

  Even as her eyes wandered down from his bare forearms, over the braced muscles of his stomach, to the spread of his thighs, Nate and his horse surged forward, stretching out into full gallop as they raced to turn a breaking calf and his followers back into the herd. Overhead, the chopper swung out too, executing a stomach-turning, arcing dive to meet the escapees head-on, the Robbie hanging almost vertically as it hovered just metres above the tussock.

  Ahead, the sea of brown and white backs churned, and another cow, perhaps sensing opportunity, cut out her calf from the herd on the opposite flank. Without thinking, Tess set off in pursuit, adrenalin spiking through her veins as her horse flew across the rough ground to outsprint the fleeing cattle. Headed off, the cow balked, her calf sheltering behind her, and, with a stamp of her foot, stood her ground. They eyed each other cautiously, Tess reaching for her hill stick to discourage a dodge, the cow lowering her head, considering a charge. Abruptly, reinforcements turned up in the form of Nate’s dogs, all four in full bark, the lead pair snapping at the cow’s nose. Shying away, the cow gathered her calf and lumbered back to the safety of the mob.

  Tess trotted back too, falling into place beside Nate again, the dogs panting hard at their heels. She’d never worked cattle on horseback before – it certainly beat the hell out of chasing a polo ball. Glancing across, she found Nate watching her.

  ‘What?’ she demanded, trying to keep a huge grin off her face.

  ‘Nothing,’ he grinned back. ‘I would say you looked like you were enjoying yourself over there.’ His dimple curled further. ‘But I’ve been wrong about that before.’

  Tess blushed. Could they really joke about that? It seemed … against regulations.

  ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself,’ she found herself saying. ‘It was dark last time.’

  She saw Nate’s smile flash as he turned his attention back to the cattle.

  In another three blazing-hot hours, they were safe behind an eight-wire fence. Leaving the cows and their calves spreading out in the paddock beside the yards, Tess followed at Nate’s and Harry’s heels, riding slowly back through the low, dry scrub of the flat to the river they’d just crossed. It was closing on eight o’clock, but if anything, the sun seemed to be gathering strength as it lowered, its long, slanting rays picking them out as if they were ants under a magnifying glass as they made their way to the water.

  While the dogs flung themselves into the shallows, Nate swung down from his horse. Behind her, Tess heard Harry’s boots hit the shingle as he did the same. She followed suit, slipping the bridle over Barney’s ears and slinging it over her shoulder. With a long, grateful sigh, the horse lowered his nose to the cold water. As Harry, already stripped down to t-shirt and shorts, began to peel off his shirt, Tess felt a wave of envy.

  It didn’t last long. Quickly, she averted her eyes from the pull of the taut, angry scars that covered his back and chest, the shocking cavity where his shoulder had been. Seeking any alternative target, her gaze fell on Nate instead. Nate, and his perfect body. Still in shirt, singlet and jeans, he was squatting on his heels at the water’s edge, watching her face, a measuring look in his own eyes.

  Hearing the challenge as clearly as if he’d made it out loud, Tess forced herself to look back at Harry. She was just in time to witness the copious splash as he launched himself from the edge of the shallow rapid into the swirl of a deep blue pool. Surfacing, gasping, on the opposite side, he seemed surprised to discover he was alone.

  ‘You coming in or what?’

  ‘No, mate,’ Nate said evenly. ‘Not today.’

  With a baffled look, Harry turned onto his back, letting the current take him down to the next shallow.

  Sinking to her heels beside Nate, Tess stole a glance at him as she took off her hat. So he wasn’t game to get shirtless in front of her either. She leaned forward, hiding a smile, and scooped up a handful of water. Trying not to think about how good it would feel to plunge her whole hot, dusty body in there, she splashed it over her face and ran her wet hands through her hair, down the length of her plait, lifting it up to cool the back of her neck with her palm.

  She felt Nate move beside her, heard the water break as he poured it over his head, the intake of breath as it met his skin. As she turned her head, she saw him push back his wet hair, its waves as dark, suddenly, as the day she’d first seen him, water glistening as he wiped it from his cheekbones. As a small rivulet made its way down a channel between the muscles of his neck, Tess made an effort to stop her eyes following it.

  A clash of stones nearby made her jump. Teetering barefoot over the shingle, Harry reclaimed his boots and pulled them on. She looked away again as he struggled back into his t-shirt.

  There was more shifting of stones, followed by a muffled curse. ‘Hold still, you bugger.’

  Understanding dawning, Tess looked around to see Harry, one foot in the stirrup, fall flat on his arse as his horse stepped away from him, flicking its tail at the cloud of small, sticky flies that were finding their way to its wet skin. As she tried to hurry up to help, Nate’s outstretched arm kept her right where she was.

  She swung back towards him, mortified at her own lack of thoughtfulness and furious at his. Nate gave one small shake of his head, an order as subtle as it was firm. Tess took an angry breath. Nate was still touching her, the back of his hand braced against her ribs. As she let the breath go, the underside of her breast brushed – infinitesimally – the side of his thumb. Tess’s breath caught again. But Nate wasn’t looking at her.

  His eyes were on Harry, who, having got himself upright again, was making another attempt on his horse. This time it stuck. In a stomach-clenching display of strength, agility and sheer pigheadedness, Harry lurched into the saddle and rode off, heading into the scrub without a backward glance.

  Nate dropped his hand.

  Following him to his feet, Tess glared at him. ‘Jesus. Would it have killed us to have given him a leg-up?’

  ‘He can do it himself.’ Nate’s voice was impatient. ‘He needs us to know that.’ He headed for his horse. ‘Harry’s his own man.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Tess snapped back, ‘I can really see how you’ve been teaching him that. So it’s okay for you to tell him what he’s allowed to say and do every day, but you can’t help him get on a horse?’

  ‘There’s a difference,’ Nate said, ‘between letting a mate run his own life and giving him a heads-up when somebody’s about to stick their foot out in front of him.’

  Tess felt herself blush. Was that what she was trying to do? Not liking the answer, she took hold of Barney’s halter, turning her back on Nate as she slipped the bridle back over the horse’s nose. Behind her, she heard the creak of leather as Nate swung up. Feeling rattled in every possible wa
y, she reached for her stirrup. Barney shifted uneasily. Tess took a firmer grip on the saddle. Bloody hell, he was a tall horse – could she even get her foot that high?

  ‘You okay there?’ Abruptly, Harry re-emerged from the scrub, completing whatever circuit he’d set out on. ‘You want a leg-up?’

  ‘No!’ she said quickly, as he looked set to dismount. ‘No. Thanks … It’s okay, I’ve got it.’

  Five

  ‘Whose truck are we taking tonight?’ Harry leaned back against the rail of the yards, watching the last of Broken Creek’s calves buck away out of the crush to freedom, a solid little red and white powerhouse of growing muscle.

  ‘Mine.’ Climbing down from the race, Nate dusted himself off.

  Tess glanced over her clipboard again. She couldn’t fault the calves’ condition. Or the percentage the station had achieved. It was just a great percentage of not very much, that was all. She’d be surprised if they couldn’t finish the lot of them without putting a dent in the winter feed.

  ‘Harry and Mitch and I are heading out to the pub tonight,’ Nate said. ‘You should come and join us.’

  Tess looked up. Harry was staring at Nate in horror. ‘Sure,’ she said. Nate was right – she should.

  ‘We’ll have to take two trucks,’ Harry protested, an edge of desperation in his voice.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Tess said. ‘We can all fit in mine.’

  Two and a half hours later, she waited in the driver’s seat as Harry and Mitch made a not-so-seemly dash for the HiLux’s rear doors. Nate, left without much choice, slid into the front of the cab beside her.

  Sneaking a look at her backseat passengers as she put the ute into reverse, Tess hid a smile. They scrubbed up not too badly. With his hair brushed and a clean shirt on, even Harry looked vaguely respectable. It was the first time she’d seen the Broken Creek boys freshly shaven and showered and out of their work clothes. Apart from Nate, of course. But she was doing her best not to think about him.