“I’ve got a couple of Dara’s meat pies.” Paula glanced at the fridge. She’d forgotten about preparing for the shearers this morning.
“You’ll need more than that,” Rowena said. “They’ll be starting at seven thirty tomorrow morning. You’d better make a list and …” She broke off into a bout of coughing that left her struggling for breath. Tarzan jumped to his feet and the lamb began to bleat.
“I think you’d better go back to bed. I’ll organise the food today.”
Rowena dragged herself up without a word and went slowly to the door. Paula heard her mutter something about a ‘blasted menagerie’.
The orders are flying again, so she must be feeling a bit better, thought Paula as she waggled her head at Rowena’s back.
The older woman stopped at the door and turned back. “And I’d remove those animals from the kitchen. Shearers won’t like them at their lunch table.” She turned and continued back to her bed.
“Bloody shearers,” Paula muttered. “I don’t like them already.”
CHAPTER
20
Paula pulled up outside the shearing shed at nine twenty-five the next morning. She tipped her head back, shut her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt as if she’d done a day’s work already.
By the time the lamb had cried for its early-morning feed, she had decided it was time to get up for the day. Dan had gone off to make sure everything was ready for the shearers and she had begun in the kitchen. At least she hadn’t heard Rowena cough so much in the night.
Now here she was about to run her first test. Dan had said morning tea was at nine-thirty exactly. She couldn’t carry everything across the long stretch of yard to the shearing shed so she had loaded up her car boot.
Rocket was sleeping by the door and he hobbled to his feet expectantly as she approached, his deep brown eyes looking soulfully up at her.
“Sorry, old boy. No titbits yet, maybe after morning tea.”
Paula climbed three steps to enter the large iron-clad shed, her arms wrapped around the basket she’d filled with containers. She paused inside, immediately distracted by the hum of activity going on around her. Three men were bent double over sheep jammed between their legs. The machinery over their heads whirred and she watched, fascinated, as the wool slipped away from the sheep in long strokes.
The yards close to the shearers, where Paula had administered first aid to the lamb’s poor injured mother, were now packed with sheep and the air was filled with a mixture of animal smells, the shuffling of the feet, the occasional low bleat and the click and whir of the shears.
Tom was bundling chunks of dirty wool into a big bag and another lad of about his age was carrying an armload of wool to a large table where Dan was picking at a fleece. She put her basket down and watched as he folded the fleece and deposited it in a bag hooked up inside a machine.
Behind her, the whirring noise reduced. One of the shearers had switched off his shears and was now bending and stretching. Dan came and took the basket. He carried it to a clear spot off to the side where there was a rough table and a plank over a couple of drums served as a seat.
He looked over the food containers in the basket. “Did you bring the kettle?”
“Yes, the rest is still in the car —”
“I’ll get that while you set this out.” He hurried off, preoccupied.
Paula took the lids off the containers to expose the sandwiches that Rowena had insisted she make. After that she set out the cake and the slice. The thick chocolate cake was Rowena’s but Paula was pleased her fruit slice had turned out rather well.
The last shearer switched off his shears and in the sudden silence the bleats, murmurs and shuffles of the sheep packed into the shed were louder and Paula could hear the more distant sounds of those outside, already shorn or still waiting their turn.
Dan carried in the box with the kettle and coffee and tea-making things and another container of biscuits. Paula set it all out. By the time she’d finished the men were gathered quietly around her.
“This is my wife, Paula. This is Max and his offsiders, Johnno and Brad.” Dan indicated the older of the shearers and the two men standing next to him. Then he pointed towards the lad alongside Tom. “And this is young Stuart.”
Paula smiled and said hello to them all then stood back as they moved in on the food. She glanced at her watch. It was twenty-five minutes to ten. Dan had explained the shearers stuck closely to their two-hourly schedule. Lunch would be at twelve and afternoon tea at three. Paula’s job was to keep the food coming.
The men kept up a friendly banter. Max was only a bit taller than Paula but he was solidly built and had a face that crinkled all over when he smiled. He was the boss and the one Dan said they had to keep happy. By the way he was devouring the sandwiches, Paula thought at least they were to his liking.
She wandered away from the men to look at the layout of the shed and the talk behind her became a bit more animated. She stopped by the big table made up of wooden rollers where Stuart had spread the last fleece. The thick wool looked grubby on the outside but when she parted it, her fingers revealed soft, oily, finely crimped strands.
“I’m hoping that’s our future.” Dan had come to stand beside her.
She looked up at his serious expression and followed his proud gaze as he looked across the fleece spread over the table.
“This is some of the best wool we’ve had. I’ve been working on a breeding program since Dad died. It’s quite a business selecting the right rams, looking for ewes that produce twins, breeding and culling. There’s a lot involved to produce this fine wool.”
Paula looked back at Dan again. There was a toughness in his eyes, a grim determination about him that made her uneasy. It was a part of his character she didn’t understand.
“Glad I’m not a sheep then,” she said lightly. “I’m not interested in producing offspring. You might cull me.”
Dan looked at Paula with a surprised expression and behind them the pen doors clanged and the machinery started up again as the shearers resumed their work.
“I’d better clear away the morning tea.” Paula was embarrassed that her attempt at a joke had fallen flat.
“I’ve got to shift some sheep.” Dan turned away to talk to Tom.
Paula lugged the containers out to the car where Rocket still waited.
“Hardly anything left to give you.” She tipped a few crumbs and sandwich scraps in front of him. He licked at the ground half-heartedly then pricked up his ears.
There was a loud whistle from the other side of the shed. “Rocket,” Dan called.
Rocket sped off, leaving Paula amazed that he could still live up to his name.
“No rest for the wicked,” she mumbled and got into her car.
“How did you go?” Rowena was coming out of the bathroom as Paula carried the morning-tea things back into the house.
“They ate nearly everything. All the sandwiches, cake and slice are gone. There are still biscuits left but there was a whole packet of them.”
“They always go for the homemade things first. Are you organised for lunch? I can help.”
Paula looked at Rowena closely. She had some natural colour back in her cheeks and her eyes had more of their normal sparkle. “You shouldn’t overdo it. You’ve been very sick.”
“Nonsense! I’ve only just got out of bed. I’m feeling much better today —” Her words were chopped off by a bought of chesty coughing.
Paula got her a glass of water.
“Thanks,” Rowena said a little more meekly, once the cough had passed. “If I could just shake this cough, I’d be fine. I’ve finished my book and I can’t bear lying in that bed any longer.”
“Well, I would appreciate some help.”
“Good. Come on then, what needs doing?”
Rowena washed up while Paula fed the lamb again. She was pleased that since she had cleaned it up there had not been much more sign of the scouring, but the enclosure wa
s badly in need of another clean out. It would have to wait until later.
Back in the kitchen, Rowena had her nose in the fridge.
“Did you say you were giving them Dara’s pies for lunch?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s what I’d planned.” Paula wondered what was wrong with that.
Rowena stood up. “That should be enough if we do plenty of mashed spud and veggies. What about dessert?”
Paula hesitated. “I was going to give them more cake.”
“I’ll make a baked pudding if you like. Have you got ice-cream?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Better to keep your cake for the tea breaks. Now if you get me a bowl I’ll get started.”
Rowena came to a stop at the fridge, flicked on the two-way radio with a click of her tongue then bustled on into the pantry.
Paula gritted her teeth and opened a cupboard to dig out a bowl. Behind her a male voice crackled from the two-way. Paula had been in the habit of turning it off when Dan wasn’t home. The crackling drove her mad when she was working in the kitchen.
Rowena cracked an egg into a cup then tipped it into the bowl with some sugar. Paula recalled her fiasco with the sponge.
“How do you end up with some eggs being rotten?” she asked.
Rowena began to beat her mixture. “Our eggs come from my chooks. I have a couple of roosters. If an egg is fertilised and left for too long it can start to develop then it goes off. I’ve spoiled a few cakes by not cracking into a cup first.”
If only I’d known that, Paula thought. She would have been saved a lot of bother had she cracked open each egg separately.
“Hello.”
Paula and Rowena both looked around at Uncle Gerald, who was standing in the doorway.
“Hello, Uncle Gerald,” Rowena shouted. “We’re all a bit busy today. Dan’s got shearers, you know.”
“I wondered what all the cars were doing up by the sheds,” he replied. “They’d better have plenty under cover. Looks like a chance of stormy weather coming.” He looked at Paula. “Is the kettle on?”
“Paula’s too busy today. Why don’t you pop up to the shed and say hello to the men.”
“It’s all right, Rowena. Uncle Gerald can have a cup of tea before he goes.” Paula noticed the little smile on the old man’s face as she turned to put the kettle on. It was a brilliant contrast to the frown on Rowena’s.
The kitchen was a frenzy of activity but they had the food ready with time to spare. Uncle Gerald had drunk his cup of tea and eaten a piece of cake before heading off to the shearing shed.
Now it was almost lunchtime and Paula was about to set the table but she stopped and looked down the kitchen towards the bay windows. She had managed to get Jane’s curtains up on the old rod and she had tied them back with a couple of her bright scarves. They made a perfect frame to the sunny day outside. Paula could see no sign of Uncle Gerald’s predicted storm.
“You’ve done a good job with this room, Paula. I like your colours.”
Paula wasn’t used to praise from Rowena. “I was thinking I’d like to have the table down in front of the window.”
“It would give you more room up this end for working. Shall we do it now?” Rowena began moving chairs out from the table and Paula joined in.
“Is this yours?” Rowena lifted the tablet Paula had been trying to access the internet with. She tried to recollect what day that had been. Monday! It seemed so long ago now.
“I was hoping to find some work I could do online…to keep my hand in.”
“You won’t have much joy with internet connection until you get a satellite connection like I have.” Rowena fixed her with a sharp look. “If you’re interested in account keeping I am sure there would be work among the local farms.”
Paula felt a surge of hope. She really wanted to be included in the paperwork for this farm.
“Not ours, of course. I can manage fine,” Rowena added, “but I know a few older farmers who would probably happily pay for someone to visit them and help with their books. Even after all this time, they’ve never got used to all the paperwork involved with the BAS.”
“I’d better put it away for now.” Paula took the tablet from Rowena and noticed the bag with the phones was also still leaning against the wall where she’d left it. She’d forgotten all about the mobiles. Hoping Rowena hadn’t noticed, she took everything into the other spare room. Tarzan was at her heels as usual and she decided to heed Rowena’s warning and shut him in the laundry on her way back to the kitchen.
By the time the men came in for their meal the kitchen was tidy and the table was placed in front of the window, spread with a cloth and set ready for them to begin. Rowena had worn herself out and had retired to the lounge to eat her meal in peace.
“This looks good,” Dan murmured in Paula’s ear as he passed.
She smiled happily as she served up their meals. Just as well Rowena had suggested lots of vegetables. Each serving of pie hadn’t looked that big on their plates and they all consumed their share of the pudding and ice-cream. Dan and Tom left straight away to shift more sheep and the contractors thanked Paula very politely for the meal before they left.
Rowena returned from the lounge carrying her empty plate as Paula sank down at the table.
“Time to get this cleaned up then it will be afternoon tea.”
Paula groaned.
“Have you eaten?”
“I don’t feel hungry.”
“You’ve got to eat, woman. There’s not enough meat on your bones as it is.”
Paula looked across at the remains of Rowena’s lemon pudding. It had smelled delicious as she’d served it. “I think I’ll have some pudding and ice-cream.”
Rowena raised her eyebrows but said nothing as she started on the dishes.
By the time they were finished, Rowena had nearly worn her pointy little nose away with blowing and her cough sounded worse. She decided to take herself back to bed for a while.
I can obviously be trusted to organise biscuits and cake for afternoon tea by myself, Paula thought wryly.
* * *
“Thanks, Sweet Pea.”
“What for?” Paula asked sleepily. She was snuggled up to Dan on the couch. It was late and they should have gone to bed but neither of them had been inclined to move after Rowena had said goodnight and left them to the fire.
“You have earned us a big tick with Max. He wasn’t too happy when a few of the early sheep had seeds in their wool but your food and, to quote Max, ‘happy disposition’, smoothed the way. You’re a hit with the shearers. I should have got me a pretty wife years ago.”
She poked him in the ribs. “I can’t take the praise for the cooking. Hardly any of it was mine. Dara and Rowena were the ones who saved the day.”
“Never mind.” Dan moved his other arm and pulled her closer. “I didn’t marry you for your cooking.”
Paula stiffened. They’d been so busy with shearing and Rowena and animals that the business with Katherine had been buried for a while, but Dan’s comment reminded her. She really did need to talk to him about it.
She took a breath. “Dan?”
He nibbled at her ear. “Mmmm?”
“We need to talk.”
“Mmmm.” His warm lips were travelling down her neck.
“It’s important.”
She tried to pull away but his hands were already under her jumper, his lips on hers. She returned his kiss. There was always tomorrow.
* * *
Paula hummed as she watched the lamb drain another bottle. She was doing very well. Paula had named her Lucky because everyone who had seen her said she was lucky to be alive.
Dan had found an old wooden packing case that he was putting in a small pen by the shed so she could move Lucky out of the house now that the lamb didn’t need to be fed quite so often.
Paula wondered what was taking Dan so long. He had gone to organise the new lamb accommodation once they’d come back from chu
rch. That was about an hour ago.
She went to the kitchen to wash out the bottle. Rowena had gone home yesterday but had said she wouldn’t go to church with them while she was still coughing so much. Paula was glad to have the house to themselves again. It was hard to relax with Rowena around, even if she was sick.
“Paula?”
She went outside to see what Dan was up to.
“I’ve rigged up some more undercover yard space at the old implement shed. I need you to help me shift in some sheep. I don’t like the look of this weather.”
Paula hadn’t noticed but now she took in the big dark clouds moving in from the west. Perhaps Uncle Gerald had been right.
“I thought we needed rain.”
“We do, but not during shearing. You can’t shear wet sheep. I’ve got a mob ready to go into the shed but I think I’ll bring up a second lot now that I’ve got a bit of protection for them. Another pair of legs would be helpful.”
“I’ll bring mine then.” Paula smiled, hoping to get a similar response from Dan but he was already heading back towards the gate.
“I’ll meet you at the shed,” he called over his shoulder.
“Aye, aye, captain.” She gave a mock salute and went to collect her coat.
Dan had been restlessly watching the weather all weekend. Paula had thought the weekend break before the shearers finished off on Monday would be relaxing but Dan had been in and out of the house doing jobs.
The first two days of shearing had gone well. Dan was flat out classing and sorting wool, keeping the sheep up to the shearers and shifting the shorn animals back to the paddocks, but he was pleased with the way things were going and with the quality of the wool.
She glanced up at the darkening sky as she crossed the yard to the shearing shed. It did look like it might rain. If rain meant a delay with the shearing, she could understand why Dan was getting twitchy.
The sheep he wanted to bring in were a few paddocks away from the shearing shed. They drove for a distance along the track that connected their place to Rowena’s before Dan stopped in front of a gate.
“I guess that’s why I’m here.” Paula got out to open it.
A Chance of Stormy Weather Page 24