by Sasha Wasley
‘I didn’t have a car for ages, either,’ Free said, nodding. ‘Beth found me the one I’ve got now. One of her patients, a little old lady, had to give up driving. Beth pretty much forced me to buy the woman’s car.’ She laughed, feeling ridiculous. ‘I’m a bit of a pushover when it comes to my big sister.’ She sipped her tea. ‘What about Aislinn? Is she older or younger than you?’
‘Older. She’s thirty.’ He dug for his phone. ‘I was going to show you before, but got distracted by cow-feeding. Get a load of this. She sent me pictures of my new nephew. They’re calling him Henry.’ He showed her a couple of photos of a red-faced baby with tiny dark slits for eyes. He was held by Aislinn, a sturdy-looking young woman with a round, smiling face and red hair.
‘He’s adorable!’ Free studied the photo. ‘You don’t look much like your sister. Except for your smile.’
‘She’s more like Mum,’ he said, putting his phone away. ‘Short and round.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t believe Aislinn’s a mother now. I hope she’s nicer to little Henry than she was to me.’
‘What do you mean? She was mean to you?’
‘Nothing out of the ordinary,’ he assured her. ‘Just your typical brother–sister nastiness. She would dob me in for wrecking something, so I’d hide in her wardrobe to scare her, that kind of thing.’
‘And your mum’s like her?’
‘Yes, in looks. And I suppose Aislinn’s turned out like Mum in personality, too. Mum’s got a good heart – always trying to make people feel better, helping out if someone’s in a tough situation. She’s a hard worker, that’s for sure.’
‘Does she work, like, in a paid job, too?’
‘Yeah, she works in admin. Bookkeeping, secretarial services, that kind of thing.’
Free considered Finn’s family. She pictured a tall, careworn father with grease-stained knuckles, poring over an AutoTrader magazine, calling out to Finn whenever he spotted a good deal. A little plump mother, her auburn hair going grey now, baking a chocolate cake for a family whose child was in hospital. That was where Finn got his deep, innate kindness, Free decided. And Aislinn – she would be cheerful and red-haired, helping her mum with the baking but simultaneously dobbing on Finn for pilfering the cooking chocolate.
‘I wish I could meet them,’ she said.
‘That’s pretty unlikely now,’ he said flatly.
Ack. Free wanted to suggest he make a plan to go see them in Ireland, but she got the vibe Finn wasn’t ready to problem-solve. She wouldn’t be, either.
‘What would you like to do tomorrow?’ she asked in an attempt to brighten the mood.
‘Aside from the mysterious barrel race? I’m not sure. Are there any more jobs that need doing?’
‘You want to do farm jobs?’
Finn shrugged. ‘Yep. Or whatever you want to do. What would you normally do, being home for the weekend?’
Free winced. ‘Uh . . . sleep in. Paint. Do jigsaw puzzles with Dad.’
He chuckled. ‘Sleeping in – I don’t do that very often, but I’m willing to give it a shot. Painting? I can paint, if it’s walls or doors. Jigsaw puzzles, now that’s something I could genuinely get into.’
‘I promise I won’t sleep in very long tomorrow. I’ll find us some farm jobs and then, when we’re too hot and tired to work, we’ll help Dad with his puzzle again. And at some point, you’ll see a barrel race.’ She checked his face. ‘Does that sound okay?’
‘Sounds fantastic.’
They drank their tea and watched the distant storm in silence for a few minutes, then Finn put his cup on the table and rose from his chair.
‘Wait here,’ he told her.
She waited. He was back in moments, and dropped a small parcel into her lap.
‘What’s this?’
‘A birthday present.’
‘Finn! You didn’t have to —’
‘I totally did,’ he interrupted. ‘It’s your birthday. Plus, you invited me here to your home for the weekend, which was . . .’ He stopped for an instant but resumed quickly. ‘Which was really kind of you. Anyway, this barely qualifies as a present, it’s so small.’
He had so many good reasons, she didn’t try to argue any more. She unwrapped a glossy green cardboard box. When she manoeuvred the lid off, she found a little tabby cat figurine. Free held it up in the light from the kitchen window.
‘Finn, this is so cool! It’s a tiny Max!’
‘Donald,’ he corrected with a grin.
‘Is it ceramic?’
‘Yeah, china.’
‘He’s so cute! Do you know, I had a little cat in my car but it got stolen. This can take its place!’
‘I’d noticed your crystal cat and figured it must have been stolen,’ Finn said. ‘This one’s totally different, but —’
‘No, I like it that way. The other one was from a friend, so I couldn’t replace it even if I tried. But this is perfect, because it’s different. This can be my new lucky car cat.’ She turned it over in her fingers, inspecting it, thrilled with Finn’s thoughtfulness.
‘I knew you’d like it. I went to the shops to pick out something for you this morning – just some chocolates or wine or something. But then I saw this and had to buy it for you.’
‘You really get me,’ she said, smiling at him.
‘You’re easy to get because you’re just yourself.’
‘Thank you!’ Free paused. ‘I think that was a compliment.’
‘Of course it was. You’re just like one of your paintings – all light and colour, nothing artificial.’ Finn held her gaze and Free’s heart kicked into overdrive. For a second she thought he might move closer but then a dog barked out in the yard, startling them both. Free stood up to check what the ruckus was, but as far as she could tell in the dim light, nothing was amiss. Finn stood up beside her.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘Just a random night-time bark, I think.’
He stretched. ‘Bedtime.’
‘Yep.’ Free grabbed the cups and went inside, depositing them in the sink. ‘Towels in the bathroom cabinet – help yourself. If I’m not up by nine tomorrow, throw something at me.’
He cracked up. ‘I couldn’t do that to you.’
‘No, seriously, do. If you don’t, I might stay there all day.’
‘Okay,’ he said, following her down the hall. ‘You asked for it.’
She stopped outside her bedroom door. ‘Goodnight, Finn.’
‘Goodnight, Free.’
She stepped in for a hug, and it was amazing – tight, but somehow gentle. He smelt faintly of aftershave, with a pleasant blend of sunscreen and hay. A series of heatwaves started in various parts of her body. It would be so easy to slip a hand up to the back of his neck and stretch up for a kiss . . .
Free kept her hands where they were. She would not take advantage of him in a vulnerable moment. He was hurting, shell-shocked by his family’s decision – and laying a snog on him would only confuse him more. She would give him time to deal with his sadness before she hinted that she was still interested.
She moved out of the hug and opened her bedroom door. ‘See you in the morning.’
In bed, she still had his scent with her. It made it hard to get to sleep.
Free woke at 8 a.m., glad she hadn’t shamed herself with a ridiculously long lie-in. She scrambled into some shorts and a T-shirt and went in search of Finn. A glance through the open door into his room revealed it was neat and empty. Neither he nor her father could be found in the house.
Free let herself out the back door into the sunlight. The ground was dark russet, damp from overnight rainfall, but the sky was clear and vivid blue. She caught sight of Finn at last, standing with Barry by a horse yard. They were nattering together as they leaned on the fence rail.
‘Young Finn here’s signed you both up for plenty of hard work, Free,’ Barry called as she approached. ‘Starting with cleaning the cow pats out of the handling yards.’
‘What the
hell?’ Free stared at Finn. ‘Are you insane?’
The two men laughed together and she realised her father had been joking. Free rolled her eyes at them.
‘Your dad’s been explaining the cattle count,’ Finn told her. ‘It’s a pity we’re here at the wrong time, so we won’t get to see it.’
‘Well . . .’ Free was dubious. ‘It gets pretty noisy and dusty. And it stinks. I guess you could call it interesting, but it’s not exactly fun.’
‘I can only imagine how hard the work is, but seeing it all – the counting, drafting, branding and so on? It sounds amazing.’
‘We don’t iron-brand the cows at Patersons any more,’ she said. ‘Willow switched us to freeze-branding. It’s so much nicer for the cows.’
‘Yeah, Barry was saying. I’d never even heard of that before. It’s gotta be better than a red-hot iron on your backside, though, right?’
‘You said it!’ Free glanced at her father. ‘Have we got any cattle-handling jobs for Finn this weekend, Dad?’
‘The boys are preg-checking some heifers.’
Finn frowned blankly and Free shot him a wide-eyed look. ‘Don’t ask. You really don’t want to know what that involves. Best we just stay out of the way.’
They pottered around the homestead for the day. Finn helped Barry with a couple of repair jobs in the house, and played a board game with Free when he was finished. After lunch, Free checked with Vern to see if they could help with anything, and he sent them on another stockfeed run. They would have gone on to the river but heavy storm clouds were gathering and Free didn’t like the thought of being stuck in a ute almost an hour from the homestead while a thunderstorm was taking place. When they got back, preparation had commenced for the barrel races. Her father came outside with his hat on and leaned against the yard railing to watch the team set up, his eyes gleaming with pleasure.
‘Dad was a rodeo rider once,’ Free told Finn where they stood at another section of fence.
Finn’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Was he? Those guys are crazy, I’ve heard.’
Thunder grumbled in the distance as the stockmen rolled metal barrels out into a roughly triangular configuration in the closest stockyard. The younger team members hovered in nervous anticipation, while the older, more experienced drovers laughed and ribbed each other as they headed into the stables to saddle up. A high-pitched whinny arose nearby and Free noticed the old pony Tuffie watching the barrels, ears pricked up with interest.
‘Oh wow, look at him,’ she exclaimed, grabbing Finn’s arm and pointing. ‘He was a rodeo pony before Willow got him. He knows exactly what’s happening!’ Finn chuckled but Free suddenly realised how tight a hold she had on him. She relinquished his arm, trying not to think about how amazingly hard and muscled it was. Good Lord. It was getting more and more difficult not to touch him.
Once the barrels were in place, the stockmen rode out of the stable on their chosen mounts amid cheering from the spectating staff. Free could only imagine the arguments that had gone on in the stables over who would claim Linger and Ketsu, renowned as the quickest, most responsive mounts in the Patersons stable. Barry was asked to do the timing, and Nico – always a solid horseman – went first. Free knew he would set the bar high.
Si swung open the gate and Nico burst through, Ketsu leaping straight into a gallop. Their head stockman steered the young gelding to the barrel on the right, whipping around it sharply before riding hard for the one on the far left of the gate. That one he navigated even faster, dust flying as Ketsu leaned deep into the turn. They bore down on the barrel at the top of the course and Free gasped as Ketsu seemed to almost turn on the spot.
‘Holy crap!’ Finn exclaimed beside her.
Barry hit the button on his stopwatch theatrically as Nico and Ketsu galloped back through the gate. ‘Seventeen point three!’ he roared.
Everyone whistled and cheered. Free sprang up onto the railing to get comfortable while she watched, Finn resting his elbows on the rail beside her.
‘That was amazing,’ he said. ‘How the hell does anyone even stay on a horse moving that fast? Motorbikes, I get. They’re predictable.’
Free disagreed. ‘I’m not great on either, but at least I have a hope when I’m on a horse. They’re coordinated and know when they’ve got a numpty on board. Machines – they rely on me to drive properly, and that’s when things go south.’
Next was Paul, and then Vern. They performed respectably but not in Nico’s league. Si did better, coming in at 19.6 seconds on Linger. Even Devi was cheering when he flew back through the gate.
‘You gonna have a go, constable?’ Si grinned as he brought his prancing mount round near the gate.
Finn broke into a smile. ‘Could I?’
Uh-oh. This could end badly. Free watched in apprehension as they brought Patersons’ largest horse over for Finn to have a turn. He was too tall to ride any of the mounts except for the great big bay named Hans.
‘Better get him a helmet,’ Barry called. ‘I don’t think he’s done much riding, have ya, mate?’
‘Definitely not,’ said Finn, attempting to mount the solid gelding they’d brought him. Si took pity and held Hans still while Finn clambered up. Kira trotted over with a helmet for Finn and led his mount to the starter gate. Free heard the girl giving Finn a rapid induction in horseriding, explaining the reins and stirrups, and how to urge a horse forward. Free was torn. As far as she knew, Finn had never even been on a horse. What if he fell and got hurt? He might fly off as they rounded a barrel – he might even hit the barrel and split his beautiful face open . . .
She was just about to intervene when Barry shouted ‘Go!’ and Finn was off. Free clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the shriek of protest she’d almost emitted – but Hans was simply trotting casually towards the first barrel, Finn bouncing around on the saddle like a kid on a space hopper. She burst out laughing instead. Then, when he rounded the first barrel, Hans turned more quickly than Finn expected and – despite the slow pace – he slipped off into the dirt. He jumped up, laughing and red-faced, and managed to scramble back on. He didn’t fall off again, but it was all Finn could do to steer the patient Hans around the barrels in the right order. He got an enormous cheer when he and Hans finally trotted back through the gate.
‘Two minutes thirteen!’ Barry shouted, grinning from ear to ear, and the cheers and laughter rose again as Finn slid off Hans. Several stockmen clapped Finn on the shoulder as though he’d ridden the best race they’d ever seen. Brushing dust off his backside, Finn rejoined Free.
‘Well,’ he said, tipping his head with a wink, ‘are you impressed yet?’
Free laughed so hard she couldn’t speak and Finn gave her a gentle push. ‘Hey! That’s enough. My pride’s already in tatters.’
‘You might still win,’ she managed through her giggles.
‘Yeah, if everyone else gets disqualified or struck by lightning, maybe.’
There were three more riders before the impending storm forced them to call an end to the barrel race – but at the last moment, Kira trotted out on Willow’s preferred muster horse, the compact palomino known as Peanut.
‘Am I too late?’ she asked Barry.
‘Not at all! You go for it, Kira,’ he nodded.
Kira was unbelievable. She pushed Peanut through the gate and they flew around the first barrel, turning so tightly it made Free catch her breath. Free scrambled for her phone and managed to hit the record video button just as Kira reached the final barrel, scooting around it as though Peanut had wheels. The girl zipped back through the gate and Barry hit the stopwatch button.
‘Sixteen bloody seconds point six!’ he yelled at the top of his lungs.
Everyone went wild for Kira, even Nico, whom she’d outridden. Barry declared their nineteen-year-old stablehand the winner and the race was over, station hands rolling the barrels away as the stockmen took their horses back to the stable for unsaddling. Free and Finn headed for the house, laughing over the race highlight
s.
‘I’m cooking for us tonight,’ Free said, remembering, ‘so you might want to send up a prayer.’
‘Stop that,’ he said. ‘What can I do to help?’
She got him started on preparing vegetables on the opposite side of the kitchen bench. It would be a steak dinner, since Barry wanted to take advantage of Willow’s absence to eat as much meat as possible. Her father disappeared to watch the news.
‘Have you spoken to your sister today?’ Free asked Finn.
‘Yep, we had a quick text chat.’
‘How is she?’
‘She’s sore and tired.’ Finn smiled. ‘She made that very clear.’
‘I can only imagine! I hope her husband is a supportive kind of guy.’
Finn considered. ‘He’s okay. I’ve only met him a handful of times, but he seems like a decent bloke. I don’t know if he’ll be up for Husband of the Year. But he’s better than some.’
Free peeled a garlic clove, thinking about his words. ‘That’s a shame. I’d struggle if I thought either of my sisters was with anyone less than completely deserving.’
Finn shrugged. ‘What can you do, though? You can’t exactly tell someone they could do better. Or that they’re with someone who will never be as good to them as you want.’ He fell silent, and when he spoke again his voice held trepidation. ‘I have to admit, I thought that about you.’
She attempted a carefree laugh, although her heart rate bumped up. ‘Stop judging my imaginary boyfriend, would you? He’s amazing. Cooks, cleans, buys me flowers.’