Red Dirt Heart 03.5 (3 page)

All Trav wants for Christmas is… heatstroke?

The next day, the day before Christmas Eve, Trav was to head out with Billy into the Western paddock, checkin’ cattle, fences, and water troughs. They left long before sunup to beat the heat of the day, and it gave me plenty of time to make last-minute emails and phone calls to make sure everything was going to plan.

It was weird to be excited about Christmas.

Part of me wished real hard that it wasn’t a surprise. I wanted to share this part with Travis. This excitement, the build-up. But part of me couldn’t wait to see his face on Christmas morning.

So I set about gettin’ some office work done until Ma called us for lunch. Travis and Billy weren’t back yet—that weren’t too surprising—and they radioed in to say they were two hours away. So we kept some lunch aside for them and kept on about our day. The general rule of the Outback summer was to work early and late, taking the hottest few hours of the day off. Usually stayin’ indoors outta the sun was the best way to spend it, though I normally found myself in the office getting paperwork done.

I smiled to myself when I heard the old Cruiser come into the yard. It was always a relief to know when people were back, but knowin’ Trav was somewhere close was a comfort I couldn’t explain.

The screen door banged and there was a sound of boots on the floorboards. Ma responded with, “Lunch is on the table.”

Though I was a little disappointed Trav didn’t stick his head around the door, I heard the quiet murmur of voices and the clanging of cutlery in the dining room, and figurin’ they’d be starving hungry, I didn’t want to bother them while they ate. But when they were done, it wasn’t Travis who came to see me. It was Billy.

“Hey, boss,” he said, looking a little unsure. “He didn’t want me to say nothin’, but Mr Travis ain’t feelin’ too good.”

I got to my feet. “Where is he?”

“Don’t think he’s moved from the dining table, boss.”

That was exactly where I found him. He had his head in his hands, his plate of half-eaten lunch still in front of him. He looked up at me and I could see then he weren’t his usual colour. He frowned. “Billy told ya, didn’t he?”

“Yes, thankfully,” I said walking over to him. “Trav, you look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.”

I put my hand on his shoulder and he was hot to the touch.
Too
hot. I put my hand on his chest, then on his forehead and on the top of his head. He was cooked. “Ma!”

It must have been my tone, because not a moment later, Ma appeared in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

Just then, Trav’s head kind of lolled back and he almost fell of the chair before I grabbed him. “I think Trav’s heat-struck.”

“Get him into the bathroom,” Ma said, quickly dashing off.

I pulled Trav to his feet and half-led, half-carried him into our bathroom. I leaned him against the counter and pulled off his boots and socks, then ripped his shirt over his head. “What were you doin’ out there?”

“The fourth bore,” he said weakly. “It weren’t running like it should, so I greased the piston and recalibrated it.”

“You were in the bore house?”

He nodded.

“Jesus, Travis. How long were you in there for?”

He shrugged. “Twenty, maybe thirty minutes.”

“It must be over fifty degrees in that bore house, Trav!” I ran his shirt under the tap, soaking it through, and wiped it over his face, neck, and chest. “It’s a corrugated iron oven in summer! You damn near cooked yourself.”

“It wasn’t too bad when I was in there,” he said quietly. “I mean, it was hot.”

“That’s the thing with heatstroke, Trav. It creeps up on ya afterwards and knocks you for six later.”

Ma was beside me then, with a bag of ice cubes wrapped in a tea-towel. She handed it to me and took the wet shirt. “Alternate putting that behind his neck and on his chest and on top of his head,” she said. “We need to get his core temperature down.”

Ma put the shirt in the sink again and rinsed the dust out of it before putting it back on his arms and shoulders.

That was when she noticed a hickey on his collarbone. She inspected it closer, then turned and swatted me on the arm. “Oh, I thought that was an allergic welt or a spider bite or something.”

Trav snorted weakly. “At least we know where Nugget gets his biting from.” Then he shucked the icepack off the back of his neck and looked a paler shade of green. “Feel like I’m gonna be sick.”

He made it to the toilet just in time, and when he was done, he looked even paler than before. Ma put a strip thermometer over his forehead and we watched the numbers climb from green 37 to a frightening red 40. “Yep, heatstroke,” Ma said. “Rub the ice bag all over his chest and on the top of his head,” she told me, then she started inspecting the back of his neck and into his hair.

“Travis, do you remember seeing any redback spiders?”

Trav shook his head. “No.”

Ma nodded. “Charlie, get him into the shower. Check him over for any kind of bites, just in case, then put him to bed.” And with that, she was gone, the bathroom door pulled closed behind her.

I undid his jeans and pulled them down his thighs. It was always a pretty clear indication on Travis’s well-bein’ when there were no sex jokes, especially when I was kneelin’ in front of him trying to get his jeans off. I ran the shower with the cold only, which was lukewarm at best. The thing about livin’ in the desert and livin’ off rainwater was that the rain-tanks sat on the baking ground like everything else.

“Remind me when you’re feelin’ better about looking into puttin’ tanks underground,” I mumbled, helping him into the already-too-small shower.

“Huh?” He looked confused.

“Later,” I told him. “Just put your head under the water. Do you feel sore or itchy anywhere?”

He took a second to answer. “Nope. I didn’t get bitten by anything, Charlie. I just feel sick. And hot. Really hot.”

“You have heatstroke, Trav,” I reminded him. “It can cook your brain if you’re not careful.”

He leaned forward and rested his forehead on his arms on the shower wall, and I stood outside the shower but quickly ran the soap over his back and shoulders. I figured cleanin’ off the dust before he got into bed would be a good idea. The red dust swirled around his feet and I scrubbed down his legs as well.

“Well, I ain’t near dead enough to know that I like your hands on me in the shower,” he mumbled.

I snorted out a laugh. “You must be feeling a bit better.” Then I asked, “How much water have you drank today?”

He seemed to think for a while. “Dunno. A bit. Two water bottles, I think.”

“Open your mouth, drink the water,” I instructed. “Small mouthfuls.”

He did that for a while and then I shut the water off and towelled him down before tying it around his waist. “Come on, into bed.”

“I feel a bit better.”

“Don’t argue with me on this, Trav. Into bed. Please.”

He hardly argued. With no more than a miserable pout, he took himself, slow and steady, to our room and sat on the bed. I switched on the ceiling fan and made him lie down, and Ma came in with a pedestal fan and the bag of ice, and when he was sufficiently fussed over, he closed his eyes and dozed. I sat beside him, movin’ the ice pack around and wipin’ him down with a wet cloth.

There weren’t nothin’ worse than watching the person you love bein’ so sick.

“Remember when I busted my knee?” he asked. His eyes were still closed. “You sat there like that.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Just resting.”

“You need to stop making a habit of me needing to sit here watching you all helpless in bed.”

He smiled, though his eyes stayed shut. “You love me all helpless in bed.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.” He let out a slow and steady breath. “Sorry. I just thought it wouldn’t take me long to fix the pump, and I didn’t realise how hot it was in there. I should know better. Sorry.”

I took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’s okay, Trav. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Then I remembered his surprise Christmas present.

I almost told him. Right then and there, I almost told him what I’d done. The words were on the tip of my tongue….

“Might just sleep a little,” he mumbled.

“Good idea,” I whispered, and bringin’ his hand to my mouth, I kissed his knuckles. “I’ll stay right here.”

He gave me a smilin’-sigh, and not a moment later, a soft snore. And I watched him. I told myself I was monitoring his breathing, being careful to keep him as cool as possible, which in forty-degree summer heat weren’t strictly the easiest thing. But truthfully, I just liked to watch him sleep. Not in some creepy way. More like in an I-still-can’t-believe-it kinda way. It amazed me still that this man was mine. And I had no doubt, I’d still be amazed forty years from now.

I lightly dragged the cold wet cloth across his chest and over his forehead. He stirred a little, mumblin’ somethin’ I couldn’t quite make out, before bein’ all peaceful again. And he’d never looked so handsome. This is what
in sickness and in health
meant. That I would sit by his bedside after he damn near cooked his foolish self in an iron shed.

There was a soft knock at the door, and after a long second, Ma poked her head in. “How is he?” she whispered.

“Asleep.”

She nodded, and seeing he was covered up with the towel around his waist, she came into the room. She gently laid the strip thermometer over his forehead, and this time it read a much better thirty-nine degrees. “He’s getting better,” she said, relieved. “Keep doing what you’re doing,” she whispered. She handed me the thermometer. “Check him every thirty minutes. If his temperature stops coming down, we’ll need to call the doctor.”

“Thanks.” I nodded and looked at the black strip of thermometer in my hand. It was about one inch wide, eight inches long, made from x-ray film type stuff, and had numbers up the side of it. Ma had used it forever and swore by it, but I had to wonder how else I could use it…

Ma raised one eyebrow at me. “It goes on his forehead, Charlie. His
forehead
.”

“I know!”

She hummed. “I swear sometimes I can read your mind.”

Travis chuckled, makin’ me and Ma look at him. “Thought you were asleep,” I said.

“Trying to,” he mumbled. “It goes on my forehead Charlie…”

Ma nodded. “See?”

“While Ma’s in the room anyway,” Trav added sleepily. His eyes were barely open.

Ma sighed and snatched the thermometer back off me. “And Billy was worried. I’ll tell him you’ll be just fine.” She walked to the door but before she got there, she said, “Dinner will be in two hours. You,” she said, lookin’ pointedly at me, “will be at the table. And you, Travis Craig, can eat in here.” Then as she walked down the hallway, she finished with, “No funny business, ya hear?”

I fell back into the chair beside the bed with a sigh. “You just got full-named.”

Trav was almost back to sleep, but he murmured, “Reminds me of being at home.” I don’t know whether it was bein’ heat-sick or homesick, but he frowned.

I leaned over and kissed his still-too-hot forehead. “Go back to sleep,” I whispered to him. I set about keeping him cool with the icepack and wet cloth, wishin’ it was Christmas already.

’Twas the day before Christmas.

Like any other day, I was up before the sun. When the dogs and horses were fed and watered and as breakfast was near ready, I went in to check on Trav. He was all stretched out onto my side, his long legs and arms takin’ up the whole bed. The sheet was barely coverin’ the swell of his arse. His well-defined shoulders and back made me wanna crawl in there beside him and never leave.

I put my hand on his head. He felt a more normal temperature. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

“Mmm.” He stirred, then startled awake and sat up. “Shit. What time is it?”

“It’s stayin’-in-bed time for you. You need to take the day off.”

“What for?”

“Trav, you were quite sick yesterday.”

“I feel fine.” It was only then that he seemed to take stock of how he actually felt. He shook his head. “I’m just tired.”

“A day of rest for you. Doctor’s orders. Well, Ma’s orders, but around here it’s the same thing.”

He fell back on the bed and put his hand to his forehead. “How can I still be tired? I’ve slept so much.”

I put my hand to his chest. “Your body temperature feels back to normal, but your energy levels are depleted. Trav, you almost lost consciousness yesterday; your brain almost cooked in your skull. You need a day of rest. Lots of water and lyin’ around.”

He sighed. “Will you be close by?”

“Yep. In and out of the homestead all day. I’m tellin’ everyone to take it easy today. We’ll do just what needs doin’ and that’ll be about it, I reckon. You know, bein’ Christmas Eve and all.”

Trav scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Thought you said no one cared about Christmas out here.”

“We don’t. Not really. I just don’t want anyone keelin’ over on me.”

“God forbid. For a minute there I considered revoking your Scrooge status. I thought you might have found some Christmas spirit.”

“Nah. I’m still Charlie ‘Scrooge’ Sutton. The last thing I want is Work Safe out here reaming me for workin’ ya’s too hard in the heat.”

He snorted out a laugh. “Yes, because really, if anyone’s gonna be reaming you, it better be me.”

I tweaked his nipple, making him squirm. “Damn straight it better be you.”

Trav licked his lips and put his hand on my thigh, slowly creepin’ his fingers up to my groin. “I’m sure I’m feeling good enough to—”

“Charlie!” Ma called out.

Trav let his hand fall away and gave out a for-fuck’s-sake sigh. “How does she know? Every time we—”

“Breakfast!”

I laughed and stood up from the edge of the bed. “I’ll bring you something first.”

He groaned as I walked out and was still grumbling when I came back in with a tray of a full breakfast, juice, coffee, and water. I knew Travis, and if I were expecting him to sleep the day away, the second best way to get him snoozin’ was food. Sex was the first option, but seein’s that was out of the question with everyone in and around the house all day, a belly full of food was the only way to keep him down.

And an hour later when I went back in to get the tray, he’d eaten everything and was sound asleep. His foot—Band-Aids now covered where Nugget had bitten him—was sticking out of the bed and the thin cotton sheet draped over his thighs, but the rest of him was on full glorious view. I swear he slept naked to tease me.

Trav was the most hyperactive guy I’d ever known, and keepin’ him well-rested weren’t strictly easy. When I came in from the shed at mornin’ tea time, he was showered and lazin’ on the lounge, lecturing Nugget about the Christmas tree. He held up the wombat so Nugget was facing me. “He keeps trying to kill the tree, Charlie.”

I looked at the offending wombat. Nugget twitched his nose, then seemed to grin at me which of course made me laugh.

Travis groaned as he stood up and shoved him in my arms. “Here. You look after him. He won’t listen to anyone but you anyway.”

I heard Travis close the bathroom door and, with Nugget burrowin’ under my arm, made my way into the kitchen to where Ma and Nara were flat out busy. The centre table was covered in eggs, fruit, proving dough, and flour. “Can I do anything to help?” I asked.

Ma looked at the doorway, clearly checking to see if Travis was close by. “Everything going well?”

I whispered my reply. “Operation Christmas Present is a go. Got an email this morning sayin’ everything’s going exactly to plan.”

Ma smiled but looked back at the door. “I know Travis needs to rest, but he’s going stir crazy. He can’t stay inside doing nothing. He’s been in here two dozen times wanting to know what we’re cooking different things for, Charlie. He’s gonna catch on that we’re up to something.”

“I’ll find something for him to do in the office. That’ll keep him out of your way,” I said softly. “But first it’s cuppa time for me and snack time for this little guy.” I dug Nugget out of my armpit and held him like a footy instead so he could see what Ma and Nara were doing.

Ma shook her head at us. “Look at you two. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“If he keeps drivin’ Trav up the wall, you won’t be seein’ him no more.”

“Won’t be seeing who no more? Me or the evil wombat?” Travis asked from the doorway.

I laughed. “Who do you think?”

He grumbled as he walked in and scratched Nugget’s head. “Sometimes I wonder.”

I bumped my hip to his. “You know that ain’t true.” He barely smiled.

Ma put a cup of tea on the table and Nara cut up enough apple and carrot for Nugget, so I sat down and pulled out a chair for Trav as well. I took sips of tea in between holding and feeding Nugget chunks of carrot, and me and Trav shared the apple, but Ma was right. Travis was miserable. And bored. And a bored Travis was never a good thing. “Hey, I was thinking now might be a good time to show you how to do the books.”

Travis looked at me with disbelief. “Yeah, right.”

“No, I’m serious. You should know how to do it all in case I can’t, for whatever reason.” I shrugged. “And you need to stay out of the heat and you’re bored outta your mind, so yeah, now’s the perfect time.”

“What do you mean by doing the books exactly?” he asked.

“Accounts, ordering, debtors, creditors, stocktaking, that kind of thing.”

Travis blinked, but I could see the excitement in his eyes. “Really?”

“Absolutely.”

He finally grinned. “Okay, cool.” He gave Nugget another scratch on the forehead. “I don’t know how he can be so cute and so infuriating at the same time.”

“He takes after me,” I said. Nugget looked up at me and snuffled his agreement. “Come on, to bed with you, little guy. We’ve got work to do.” I stole some more of Nara’s cut apples and put Nugget and the fruit in his bed box, where he couldn’t trash Trav’s Christmas tree, and I took Trav into the office.

I switched on the fan. “You not too hot in here?”

Trav shook his head. “No, I’m fine.”

“How much water have you had to drink today?” I asked.

“Oh, don’t you start,” he mumbled. “Ma’s been shoving a bottle of water down my throat every hour on the hour, so I’m really, more than fine.”

I snorted. “Just checking.”

I opened up my laptop without thinking how my emails showed up on screen. The word “confirmation” flashed up, and I quickly exited out before Trav saw anything. The last thing I needed was for him to read something about his present arriving tomorrow and spoiling everything. Especially since the whole thing had been planned for weeks. It’d be a shame to ruin it the day before Christmas.

“So,” I started. “You click on this….” And so for the next two hours, I showed him how, where, and when I entered in data. It was a specific accounts program that we’d customised to suit our business so it was really simple, and Travis picked it up in no time. He was cross-referencing dates, invoices to receipts, product codes and numbers and figures like a pro, asking a question here and there, but otherwise doing it all by himself. I, on the other hand, sat there with my legs stretched out onto the desk reading the latest copy of Farmer’s Annual. Every so often, I’d catch Trav lookin’ at my thighs instead of the screen, and I figured the distraction was payback for him sleeping naked this morning.

Ma stuck her head around the door frame. “Kitchen’s closed until dinner shift. It’s too hot in there. You want something, you can get it yourself.”

I gave her a smile. “No worries. Go put your feet up for a few.”

She looked pointedly at my feet on my desk. “I plan to. Don’t wake me for nothing.”

The house was quiet for all of five seconds before Trav stood up and walked to the door. He closed it, locked it, and walked back to stand in front of me. He parked his arse on my desk and slowly undid the fly of his shorts and gave his dick a long stroke. He was almost fully hard already. “I’ve wanted this since this morning.”

I looked up at him. “Um, Trav…?”

He stood up away from the desk, and with his fist around the base of his dick, he put his cockhead to my lips.
Right then
. No need to guess what Travis wanted. So I opened my mouth for him.

He was a whole lotta less grumpy after that.