Cowboy Town (19 page)

He beats me to talking, “How about if Jules moves into one of the cottages we’ve got on the farm.  Would that make you happy?”

“Yes.” 
I didn’t even know there were any unused cottages on the Station.
  There were three that I knew of, and all of them had workers living them.  “She won’t have to live with Burp, will she?”  I tease.

“Not unless she wants to.  We’ve got two other cottages that are vacant – I’ll show them to you later.  Now, you gonna move in?”

“Yes,” I agree quietly.  “You should know, I love you as well.  And not just because you’re letting Jules move onto your property,” I go up on the balls of my feet and kiss him soundly.

Chapter Nine

When Jackson said he didn’t care if I moved in that day or in three months, what he really meant was that I was moving in that day.  I minded Oscar while he and Jeremy drove in and packed my stuff.  Luckily, all they had to pack up was clothing and a few important possessions and photographs.  It took them all of about an hour which sucked because I would have liked to have spent more one on one time with Oscar.  All we did was sit at the computer screen and watch Thomas the Tank Engine episodes on the internet, but it was still nice and I enjoyed it.

After the boys got back, Jeremy had to finish getting ready for his muster in the morning, which Jackson was also helping out on and I wanted to be a part of it.  The boys agreed, as long as I was in a vehicle and not on a horse or in a chopper. Considering I hadn’t yet learned to ride a horse, I was okay with that requirement but I couldn’t see the harm in a helicopter ride.  However, not wanting to argue over it, I agreed to only ride in one of the Utes.

The muster was fun and much bigger than I had imagined.  There were seven workers on horses and two in choppers plus Jackson and I in one Ute, Jeremy and Oscar in another and Burp in another.  We moved just over a thousand head of cattle from one side of the property to the other, to a specifically grown feed paddock. Jackson explained the crop would feed the animals so they’d put on alot of weight which would get them more money when they sold them.  We camped out overnight and I loved getting to know the Jackaroo’s around the fire we lit that night.  They were a mixture of young and old, Aboriginal and white, but they were all a bunch of larrikins who enjoyed nothing more than having a dig at each other and playing pranks.  Cookie (whose nickname derives from the fact that she is head cook at the worker’s quarters) is the worst of them all.  She’s middle aged and been around these parts her entire life.  She grew up in Arnhem Land (an Aboriginal reserve in the Northern Territory) and has worked as a cook on cattle stations for all of her adult life.  She’s only forty seven but she looks so much older.  From bits and pieces of what she said, I think she’s had a tough life.  She’s never been married, but she did have a child when she was young teenager which she left to be raised by the ‘aunties’ on the reserve.  She rarely goes into town, preferring to stay on the property and cook all day.  The boys joke about how much food she has stored in the freezer, but she just threatens to put cyanide in their next meal so they soon shut up.

“They know better than to think I’m joking,” she tells me matter-of-factly.  “Last fella who give me shit, I put a year’s worth of laxative in his stew.  Dickhead was shitting thru the eye of a needle for a week,” she hoots.

I start laughing because the way she said it and the image I got in my head made it hilarious. 

“How far pregnant are you, whitey?”  She asks quietly as we sit around the cackling campfire.  All the boys have headed off to their swags, except Jackson who is taking a call over near a tree where the reception is better.

“Um, I’m not sure-,”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, girl.  I know these things.  Can tell.  Got good intuition.”  She cuts me off, tapping the side of her head.

“We’re keeping it quiet.  We’ve only found out,” I admit.

“The way that boy’s fussing over you, won’t be under wraps for long.”

This was true.  Jackson has been moddycoddling me constantly.  If he could get away with wrapping me in cotton wool, I don’t think he’d think twice about doing it.

“Yeah, he has been a little
over attentive
, hasn’t he?” I laugh.

She laughs along and then turns serious, “He’ll get worse, but it’ll all be worth it when he holds his baby girl in his arms.”

“Ah, so you think it’s a baby girl?”

“Don’t think.
Know
.  Just like I knew you were pregnant.  I know shit like that.  Know you had man troubles and they brought you here and I know you lost your parents.  Don’t know how I know, I just know.”

“You’re psychic?” I ask shocked.

“Don’t like putting a name on it.  I just know shit.”

“Wow.  So do you communicate with spirits or is just an intuitive feeling?”

“Like I said, I just know shit.”

O-kay then.

“So what else do you just
know
?”

“Know I better get to bed, otherwise these boys won’t get breakfast cooked for ‘em in the mornin’.”  She stands up and looks down at me, “Go easy on him.  Let him do what he’s gotta do to take care of you, that other piece he had was bad for him; you’re perfect.  Made for each other.”  She turns to walk away and then turns back, “Your mother reckons you did the right thing leaving that man – she’s glad you didn’t stick around and live with his cheatin’ like she did with your dad.”  My mouth falls open as she leaves without another word.

Holy shit. Did she really just say that?

Jackson walks over and sits down where Cookie was sitting.  “How’re you feeling, Darlin’?  You need anything?  You tired?”

“I’m okay, today was fun.”

“Yeah, there’s always a good atmosphere on a muster.  I’m glad you liked it.  After the little one comes, we’ll have to get you learnin’ to ride then you can muster on horseback while me and the little man ride in the Ute,” he grins his cheeky, sexy grin and gently rubs my flat stomach.

“Little man, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Do you want to know what Cookie thought?” I ask smugly.

“Cookie?  Of course she would fuckin’ know.  That woman is a bloody psychic. 
Christ!
  Did she say something to you about the sex of the baby?”

“Amongst other things, yes.  Is she generally correct?”

“Generally, no.  Always, yes,” he states.

“I thought as much when she said some stuff about my parents.  So, do you want to know what she predicted?”

“Damn woman.  Nah, I don’t want to know.”  He shakes his head, and then he adds, “Did she say it was a boy?  No, no, don’t tell me.  I don’t want to know.”

I laugh at his indecisiveness.

“How old are you?” I randomly ask when it pops into my head that I don’t even know his age.

“Thirty three, why?”

“Oh, no reason.  It just occurred to me that I didn’t know the age of my baby daddy,” I shrug.  Thirty three to my twenty eight isn’t so bad.

“I’m gonna have you knocked up for the next five years solid,” he informs me assuredly.

“What?”
I turn to him with wide eyes, thinking he’s joking.  He’s not.  He looks completely serious.

“I always wanted to have a house full of kids before I got too old.  I decided when I built my house that I’d build it big so I could fill it with as many kids as I could manage by the time I was thirty eight.”  He explains it to me like it’s the most logical thing in the world.  It sounds like how someone would say, “I decided to butter my toast this morning and then spread honey all over it.”

“Jeez, nothing like a bit of pressure to turn a girl on,” I mutter.  You’d think I’d be shocked or even frightened about the possibility of being impregnated for the next five years, but the funny thing is I actually have a similar life dream.  I always wanted four children – two boys and two girls.  The boys first, close in age and then the girls would come a few years down the track, again close in age.  This way, the boys would be able to protect their baby sisters and I would get a few years break in between.  Technically, my dream is totally doable – four kids in five years should be a breeze, right?

Ha!
I probably have this baby and call it quits!

“You let me take care of the turning you on business, darlin’, you just worry about the pregnancy side of things,” Jackson whispers in my ear seductively.  My body’s responsive shiver doesn’t escape his notice.  He gives a hearty chuckle then stands and takes my hand to help me up.

“Let’s get you to bed, pretty lady.  Got a big day tomorrow.”

We spend majority of the next day finishing up the muster and then everyone goes back to their respective houses for showers – we’re all incredibly dusty, dirty and smelly so a warm shower is welcome.

The next two weeks fly by as I (at Jackson’s firm urging) attempt to make the house “ours”.  My face had all but healed so I managed to go back to work last week.  As soon as I arrived for my shift, Skip started grilling me:

Who did that to you?

What’s his problem?

Bastard needs a bullet!

Did you tell the Police?

Have you heard any more from the Police?

Did you manage to at least get a hit of your own in?

When I answer that I managed to slap him and also knee him hard in gonads, I get this proud response -

That’s my girl!

On my days off I manage to spend a bit of time shopping with Ava, who is now my new neighbor.  I fill her in on everything regarding Matt and my relationship and she fills me in a little on her history with Jeremy.

Jeremy and Jackson were a few classes ahead of me at school.  Our families were one of the few families in the area that didn’t send their children off to boarding school once we reached high school and because our stations share a boundary fence, I’d had a lot to do with both of them over the years.  I always had a major crush on Jeremy – I’m not sure why, because they’re identical twins so it wasn’t like one was better looking than the other.  Jackson was always the larrikin; funny, the life of the party, chick magnet – that was him.  Jeremy was a bit quieter, still a chick magnet but not as outgoing and cocky as Jackson.  The boys always had a girl on their arms.  I remember working at the Coffee House and having to serve them as they came in with their dates.  A different girl every week.  I think if there had been enough girls to choose from, it would have been a quicker rotation than what it was!  Well, every girl except me.  Neither of them showed any interest in me at all, besides wanting me as a friend.  They treated me like one of the guys, and I swear to God that every time Jeremy called me ‘Mate’, it broke my heart a little bit.  Anyways, long story short, one day about eight years ago he stated to show a bit of an interest in me.  He kissed me and I was over the moon excited.  Then I found out something from his past and it cut me to the quick.  I’ve tried my best to avoid him ever since.

“Wow, so the Henley brothers were popular?” I ask when she’s finished.  I had no idea Jackson had such a
busy
past.

“Yeah,” she chuckles, “They were even more
popular
when the girls came home for term break from boarding school.”

We finish shopping and then I drive Ava to her place.  After dropping her off, I head towards home. 
Home.
  It feels weird to call Jackson’s beautiful house my home.  I’ve managed to pick up a few different things today to make it more ‘me’, including a gorgeous bed spread and a few framed prints for the wall.  I contacted a local photographer who I noticed taking pictures at the rodeo and organized for him to frame a fantastic shot he captured of Jackson.  In the picture Jackson’s feet are level with the bull’s shoulders; his legs straight out in front of him, his free arm extended over his head, his body almost lying flat on the bull’s back and the bull’s back legs are high in the air amongst a cloud of dust.  It’s an unbelievably amazing picture.  I asked him to enlarge it and frame it for me.

I’m singing along with the radio when I hear a bang and feel the steering wheel jerk to the side. 
Great.
  I slow down and pull on to shoulder of the road. 

Flat tyre.  Fucking golden!

I was never taught to change a flat and I have no idea where to start.  I check my watch. 
There’s still a few hours of daylight left.
  I grab my phone hoping there will be a bar of service so I can call Jackson. 
No bars.
Shit.  I could wait for a little bit; see if any cars come by.  Chances are slim to none.  The road generally isn’t busy because this is not a main road; it basically only services the front entrances of the Henley and Crawley Stations.  Crawley is Ava’s family.

I can see the gateway to ‘Binowee Station’ about four hundred meters down the road so I decide to walk down there, trying to get service on my way.  Jackson’s house is about six kilometers from the entrance, and Jeremy’s is even further away so I hope I can get enough signal to make a call.