Inherit the Sky (Lang Downs 1 ) (4 page)

S
PIRITS buoyed by his success at pool and in overcoming his instinctive shyness, Caine returned to the table where Macklin still sat, glaring at his lunch plate.

“I’m ready when you are,” Caine said, the beer he’d drunk easing his nerves enough to smooth over his stutter for the moment. He knew it wouldn’t last, but it was still a boost to his confidence to get the sentence out without a problem.

“Let’s go,” Macklin said, pushing back from the table and tossing some money down for the bill.
Caine shook his head and handed the bills back to the foreman. “You c-came all this way to get me. I’ll shout you lunch.” The Australian idiom felt odd on his tongue, but he was determined to follow Aidan’s advice and do everything he could to fit in.
“A few Aussie phrases aren’t going to make you any less of a Yank,” Macklin said with a half sneer, raising Caine’s hackles even more. “Don’t pretend to be something you’re not.”
Caine’s anger simmered to the surface, but he kept a lid on it for the moment, paying for their lunch and waiting until they’d returned to Macklin’s Jeep to turn on the foreman. “What is your p-p-problem?” he demanded.“You d-don’t even know me. Why are you acting like I’ve d-done something wrong?”
Macklin opened to his mouth to reply, closed it again, and snagged his hat off his head, running fingers through the shaggy blond strands that looked like they’d been cut with kitchen shears rather than by a barber’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding sincere enough that

Caine felt his anger start to fade. “I admired your uncle for a lot of different reasons, and losing him was hard. The thought of maybe losing everything he worked his whole life to build is even harder, but that’s not your fault,and I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
Macklin started the Jeep and began the drive north to Boorowa. Caine sat in silence next to him for several minutes before continuing. “Uncle Michael and I wrote letters religiously when I was in middle school and high school,” he said softly. “I wanted to come see him more than anything. He told me I could come for the summer or even for a year if Mom would agree. We’d started making plans, and then I got accepted to the Ohio University Summer Honors Academy. My s-sst—” He couldn’t get the word out, shaking his head fiercely. “My voice was covered by an education plan so they let me in despite it. I had a wonderful summer that got me excited for college, and I told myself and Uncle Michael I’d come another year. He understood, but it never seemed to work out after that. I sh-should have come then when I had the chance. Everything would b-b-be easier now if I had.”
“We all have regrets,” Macklin said when Caine had finished. “It probably would be easier now if you’d come then, but that’s water under the bridge. We’ll just have to make the best of it.”
“I m-meant what I said before,” Caine said. “I d-don’t want to t-ttake over. I want to learn and work b-b-b—with you and the other hands.” He cursed inwardly at having to fight his stutter so hard, but Macklin didn’t seem to be judging him for that at least. For everything else, but not for that.“Lang D-downs is my future now too.”
The silence fell between them again as they continued the drive. Caine stared out the window, watching the town fall away and the majesty of the bushland come into view. He’d seen it some on the bus, but the Hume Highway was a major road, nothing like the more intimate feeling of the Lachlan Valley Way that led them steadily north toward Boorowa. As they drove further north, the trees—Caine had no idea what kind they were, although they vaguely resembled the cypress trees he remembered seeing when he visited Florida as a child— thinned out, leaving great open spaces. “Is all this range land?” he asked.

“Most of it,” Macklin replied. “There are smaller homes hidden between the hills, but for the most part, there’s nothing out here but us and the sheep.”
“I d-don’t think I’ve ever seen so much open sky,” Caine admitted. “I grew up in a city, went to college in another city, and then lived in a third city. This is amazing.”
Macklin laughed. “We’ll see how ‘amazing’ you think it is when the storms knock the power out and it takes days or weeks to repair.”
“What d-d-do you do then?” Caine asked nervously. “No power for weeks?”
“We have generators,” Macklin assured him. “Solar panels, windmills, and actual gas generators to keep essential systems running, but for the most part, we wait it out. The canteen is tied to the generators, the hot water heaters, and the heating systems for winter. Other than that, we don’t need a lot.”
“Lights?” Caine suggested.“Or maybe a computer? A TV?”
“Most nights we’re too buggered to watch TV or get on a computer,” Macklin said. “We work outside all day, we eat dinner, and then we sleep because we have to get up and do it all again the next day. I finally made Michael buy a computer two years ago because his handwriting got so bad I couldn’t read his ledgers anymore, but that’s about all we use it for. You sure you’re ready for this?”
“No,” Caine said, “but it’s got to better than working in the mail room.
I
’m better than working in the mail room.”
Macklin chuckled. “It won’t be a mail room, that’s for sure, pup.”
Caine considered taking umbrage at the nickname, but it didn’t seem malicious, not like the earlier attack, and next to Macklin, he was little more than a puppy following the more experienced dogs around. “I did some reading before I came,” he said, “but it was all focused on North American sheep farming. I didn’t know how much would carry over. Certainly not the dates when they cited certain things occurring.”
“I can see that,” Macklin agreed. “It would be spring in the States, right?”
“Yes, the snow had finally melted when I left home,” Caine said. “So it was all about lambing and shearing right now.”

“You’re six months off from us,” Macklin said. “We’re in the middle of breeding and settling the sheep for the winter.”
“What kind of accommodations do you have for them?” Caine asked.
“If it’s a mild winter as far as snow is concerned, we leave them outside most of the time,” Macklin said. “If we get enough snow to be dangerous for them, we have barns and sheds where we can shelter them until it melts enough for them to go outside again.”
“Do you breed naturally or do you use insemination?” Caine asked.
“Naturally,” Macklin said. “We have too many sheep to inseminate them and no reason to do it since about seventy percent of our ewes breed the first time out, and most of the rest do the second time. If they don’t, there’s usually something wrong with them.”
“That must cut down on the work,” Caine said. “That’s g-good. I’m sure there’s enough work as it is.”
“We certainly aren’t sitting around on our hands,” Macklin agreed, sharing a quick grin with Caine. “We’ll make it to Boorowa in another ten minutes or so. Tell me what you have in your kit so I know what we need to scare up for you.”
“Not much that will suit for out here,” Caine admitted. “I have a couple of pairs of jeans, nice ones, but not new. I don’t mind if they get dirty. I have some sweaters, sweatshirts, T-shirts, but most everything else is stuff I wore to the office. Khaki pants, button-down shirts. I know they aren’t practical for the station, but I didn’t have anything else to bring.”
“What about boots?” Macklin asked.
Caine shook his head. “A good pair of sneakers and some loafers, but nothing for hard work. I wasn’t kidding when I told you I was a greenhorn.”
“That you are, pup,” Macklin agreed. “No worries. We’ll get you sorted in Boorowa, but it won’t be cheap if you insist on buying it all at once on yourown penny.”
“I’ll buy what I need to get through the winter,” Caine decided, “and I’ll deal with the rest when it warms up in… when does it warm up? September? October?”