Inherit the Sky (Lang Downs 1 ) (5 page)

“September,” Macklin concurred, “although that’s always variable. I’m sure it does that at home for you as well.”
“Lang Downs is home now,” Caine insisted, “but yes, it was true in Philadelphia too.”
Caine expected Macklin to challenge his statement, but to his surprise, the foreman let it pass without comment.
Boorowa was an even smaller version of Yass, with enough bustle to make it clear the town was in no danger of dying out while being anything but a city. Macklin pulled up in front of a country store that reminded Caine of the dry goods stores in the old Western novels he used to read as a boy. He kept the comparison to himself, quite sure Macklin would not appreciate it.
“So what d-d-do we need first?” he asked, nervous again now that they were back in public. Macklin seemed far less approachable when others were around than he did in the relative privacy of the Jeep.
“Relax, pup,” Macklin said, obviously having picked up on the fact that Caine’s stutter got worse when he was ill at ease. “Nobody’s going to bother you here.”
“I know,” Caine said, “but I don’t fit in.”
“That hasn’t bothered you before now,” Macklin pointed out. “You didn’t deal with those blokes in Yass like you cared if you fit in. You brought them to you instead. You came a long way to follow a dream. Maybe I wonder if you know what you’re getting into, but you’ve got to respect a man for rolling the dice that way.”
Caine took a deep breath. “So what do we need first?” he asked, relieved that his voice was steady this time.
“Moleskin jeans, some heavier work shirts so you don’t ruin your fancy ones, two pairs of boots, and a hat,or you’ll be so burned in a day or two you’ll be sick with it.”
“I thought it was fall,” Caine said, looking around at the sparse foliage that had started to change color.
“It is, but that doesn’t make the sun less of an issue,” Macklin said. “The sun can burn you all year round.”
“I guess it’s a good thing I brought sunscreen,” Caine muttered.

Macklin knocked him on the shoulder with his hat. “Buy a hat. Akubra’s a good one.”
Caine sighed and followed Macklin inside the store. The foreman obviously knew the shop owner, greeting him with a smile and a handshake and starting into a list of things he’d need for the “blow-in.” Caine smiled politely and took the pile of clothes and gear the owner handed him. Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, and all the rest of the shirt sizes told him nothing when he was used to asking for a fifteen-and-a-half. He figured he’d just try clothes on and go from there. Of course if he hardened up anywhere to the degree Macklin was, he’d need new clothes by the time next winter rolled around. “Is there s-somewhere I can t-t-try them on? Since I don’t know what size I need here.”
The owner pointed toward a dressing room Caine could use. Caine kept his head high through sheer determination as he went to the back of the store, sure he could hear Macklin and the shopkeeper exchanging jokes at his expense. He pulled the curtain to assure his privacy and rested his head against the cool mirror on the wall. He’d been a fool to come. He couldn’t do this alone, and Macklin, whom he’d hoped to rely on for pretty much everything, blew hot and cold, not giving Caine the rock to lean on he needed.
“Grow up,” he muttered. “You might be a ‘blow-in’, but you aren’t a stupid kid who made a spur-of-the-moment decision. You knew this would be hard. You aren’t going to give up before the adventure even begins.”
With that self-scolding fresh in his mind, he tried on the jeans and shirts Macklin and the shopkeeper had given him. He ended up with a size thirty-nine to be able to button it around his neck, but it hung loosely on his admittedly scrawny shoulders, making him wish he was built more like Macklin. The pants were even more confusing, with the waist measurement in centimeters and the length in a generic regular or long, neither of which fit his legs right. “I guess I’d better buy a sewing kit too,” he added with a huff that would earn him a swat from his mother for sulking if she could see him, but she wasn’t here to see his disgrace, fortunately. Setting aside the clothes that fit best, Caine put his own jeans and shirt back on and summoned a smile. “I’ll need something to take up the hem of the pants,” he said as he walked back

out of dressing room.“I’m not quite the same shape as the average Australian man,apparently.”
“You and half the men in Australia,” the owner said with a grin.
“We have what you need at the station,” Macklin added. “No need to spend your money on that. Now, what about boots, Paul? Do you have any Blundstones or RM Williams? No idea what size he’ll need, but a pair of sneakers isn’t going to cut it out in the paddock.”
“We’ll get him sorted,” Paul promised. “Let me see those shoes you’re wearing, son. I can try to find the right size from there.”
Still feeling out of sorts but sensing that the mood in the room had shifted while he was trying on clothes, Caine slipped out of the sensible brown loafers he’d chosen to wear and handed one to the shop keeper.
“You said I’d need a hat too,” Caine said, turning back to Macklin while Paul was busy with his shoes.
“They’re over here,” Macklin said, leading Caine to a display of hats under the label Akubra. The brand meant nothing to Caine, but the hats matched the one Macklin was wearing, if in better shape, so Caine figured they were good ones. He tried a couple on, not sure how they were supposed to fit, until Macklin nodded.
“That’ll do, pup,” he said. “That one fits you all right. It’ll shade your eyes without falling in your face all the time.”
Caine couldn’t explain the surge of pride at getting Macklin’s approval for something as simple as picking a good hat, but it was there nonetheless. If the man’s attitude were a little more consistent, Caine wouldn’t have worried so much, but the hints of hostility beneath the surface worried him a little.“Thanks. Anything else I need?”
“A drizabone,” Paul said, coming back with several pairs of shortsided boots with elastic around the ankles. “And some thick socks. It doesn’t snow much where you’re going, but it can get cold, and there’s nothing as miserable as frozen feet.”
“What’s a drizabone?” Caine asked.
“A coat,” Macklin said, “a waterproof one. Try on the boots and then we’ll find you one.”
Caine tried on the boots, finding a pair that fit comfortably if a little tight around the ankles. He figured that would stretch as he broke them in, though. When he was done, Paul already had a pile of socks added to his growing stack. “Here,” Macklin said. “This one should be about right.”
Caine tried on the oilskin coat, finding it stiff and cold and not at all comfortable. “Are you sure this is the right size?” he asked. “It d-ddoesn’t seem to fit right.”
“Wear it around for a few minutes,” Macklin advised. “It has to warm up to you.Once it does, it’ll feel like a second skin.”
Caine was somewhat dubious, but he left the coat on as he looked around the store for anything else he might need. He hadn’t gotten an answer about how far Boorowa was from Lang Downs, so he didn’t know how practical it would be to return to town for other necessities. He’d added a fresh tube of toothpaste and some other basic toiletries to his pile when he realized the coat had softened. He stretched experimentally, feeling it move with him instead of impeding his movement as it had done before. “Wow, this is pretty cool,” he said, looking back at Macklin.
“Blow-in,” Paul chuckled, but his kind expression took the sting from his words. “Stick with Macklin here. He won’t guide you wrong.”
“Anything else I need?” Caine asked Macklin.
“I don’t think so, pup. Let’s get this all packed up and then we can find a place to sleep tonight. I want you to see Lang Downs for the first time in the daylight.”
Caine slid the coat off and paid for his new gear, blanching a little at the total, but it was an entire new wardrobe, and he wouldn’t have expenses once he got out to the station. Even so, he’d maybe spread his spring spending out over a couple of trips instead of doing it all at once.
“So how far is it to Lang Downs from here?” Caine asked as they walked back out to the Jeep.
“It’s only about an hour until we leave the main roads,” Macklin said, “but then we have to cross Taylor Peak, and that’s on dirt roads, and several hundred clicks.Once we get onto Lang Downs, it’s another several hundred clicks to the main station, again on dirt roads. Not the best for driving at night unless there isn’t another choice. It’ll take four or five hours total, so we’ll do better to leave after breakfast.”
“Taylor Peak?” Caine asked. “Is that the neighboring station?”
“Yes,” Macklin said. “Devlin Taylor owns it. We won’t stop and say hello tomorrow, but I’m sure you’ll meet him soon.”