Red Dirt Heart 3

RED DIRT HEART III

By N.R. Walker

Welcome to Sutton Station: One of the world’s largest working farms in the middle of Australia—where if the animals and heat don’t kill you first, your heart just might.

Copyright

Cover Artist: Sara York

Editor: Erika Orrick

Proof Reader: Jay Northcote

Red Dirt Heart 3 © 2014 N.R. Walker

First edition: October 2014

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:

This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

The Licensed Art Material is being used for illustrative purposes only.

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

WARNING

Intended for a 18+ audience only. This book contains material that maybe offensive to some and is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, homosexual relations, explicit sexual content and adult situations
.

Dedication:

For those who took a chance on me years ago, and for those who are with me still,

thank you.

“People who truly live in the outback listen to it. What they hear I do not know...What the country says is beyond words."

IAN PARKES, A Youth Not Wasted

“How can mere red dirt and stones and scrubby trees and shrubs and rises and falls in the land and haze and a vast blue sky be so potent? Such was its power, even in the intense heat, even at night—sometimes, especially at night—the landscape seized you.”

IAN PARKES, A Youth Not Wasted

Trademark Acknowledgments:

The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Land Rover: Land Rover
      

Skype: Microsoft Corporation

Toyota Land Cruiser: Toyota Motor Corporation

Google: Google Inc.

RM Williams (RMs): R.M. Williams Pty. Ltd.

Bunnykins: WWRD IPCO LLC

Polaroid: Polaroid Corporation

Panadol: SmithKline Beecham Limited

Subaru: Fuji Jukogyo Kabushiki Kaisha

Smart Board: Smart Technologies ULC

Information prior to reading:

Size matters - Sutton Station, while fictional, is based on a working property in the middle of Australia and is three hours drive to the nearest town. Sutton Station is 2.58 million acres (10,441 square kilometres). In comparison, the largest ranch in the USA is King Ranch at 825,000 acres (3,340 square kilometres). Sutton Station is the third biggest station in the Northern Territory and is classed as desert. Sutton Station is approximately the same size as Lebanon.

The Northern Territory is a federal territory in between Queensland and Western Australia. It’s like a state, just don’t call it that to someone who lives there.

Australian Terminology Glossary:

Station: Farm, ranch.

Paddock: Large fenced area for cattle; a pasture.

Holding yard: Corral.

Swag: A canvas bedroll.

Ute: Utility pickup truck.

Motorbike: Motorcycle, dirtbike.

Akubra: Australian cowboy hat.

Scone: American sweet biscuit, usually eaten with cream and jam.

Pub: Bar/drinking venue, usually serves meals.

Trolley: Shopping cart.

Car park: Parking lot

Driza-bone: Oiled coat farmers wear to protect from rain and wind.

Stockman: Australian Cowboy

In the roof: In the roof cavity/attic.

Crook: Feeling unwell.

To powder: “He powdered.” To be of no use. Usually a derogative term.

We boarded the plane at Darwin, fully expecting the flight back to Alice Springs to be a non-event. People were still boarding when Travis decided he wanted to sit by the window, and then he didn’t, then he did, then he didn’t. And then he did.

“Too bad,” I said, refusing to move seats again. “I pity the person you sat next to for twenty-something hours when you flew to Australia.”

“You really wouldn’t,” he said. He leaned in real close. “We ended up joining the mile-high club.”

My eyes shot to his, and I glared. Instantly jealousy, anger and hurt flared in my belly.

Travis threw back his head and laughed, making a few of the other people still boarding the plane look at us. “Just kidding. I totally didn’t.”

“I hate you.”

He snorted. “I like making you jealous. You’re too easy,” he said, smiling. He could tell I was still a bit peeved by his comment. “Honestly, it was some woman with two kids who, if they weren’t yellin’, they were crying.”

“Serves you right.”

He laughed again. “You know, you were so much more relaxed at Kakadu,” he said. He leaned in and spoke quietly, “And I just happen to know how to really relax you, so if you want to head to the bathroom first, I’ll follow.”

I coughed as some poor bastard took his seat next to Travis. I wasn’t particularly hiding my sexuality anymore, but I wasn’t up for lewd comments in front of the unsuspecting public either. I gave him a behave-yourself glare, and as Travis struck up conversation with the guy next to him, I bid that man a silent good luck, put my earphones on and closed my eyes.

I’d barely shut my eyes for ten minutes before Travis tapped my leg.

I blinked, realising we were now up in the air. I pulled off the headphones. “What?”

“Swap seats,” he urged, standing up.

I looked at the guy who was sitting on the other side, and without time to wonder what had happened, I slid over—with some degree of difficulty given the tight space and Travis standing in front of me. Travis didn’t look pissed off or even worried, so I figured the guy now next to me was harmless. I gave the man a nod and indicated Travis. “Did he say something inappropriate?”

He was mid-thirties with short brown hair that was kinda greyed at his temples. He had a thick-set build, and the stereotype that he played rugby was typified by his been-broken nose. He laughed. “No. Not at all.”

“Good,” I answered flatly. “I wasn’t gonna apologise, I just could have sympathised with you, that’s all.”

Travis whacked my arm with the back of his hand. He leaned forward so he could include all three of us in conversation. “Charlie, I wanted to introduce you,” Trav said with a would-you-shut-up look in his eye. “Blake Burgess, this is Charlie Sutton.”

The name meant nothing to me, but Blake’s eyebrow flicked. “Charlie Sutton? As in
Sutton Station
?”

“The one and only,” I said, wondering who the hell this guy was and how he’d heard of me. I gave a quick glance to Travis to get him to explain.

“Blake here was just telling me what he does for a living,” Travis said. “Thought you two might like to chat.”

I was confused, and when I turned back to Blake, he was smiling at me. “I’m a buyer for Woolworth’s. More specifically, I source out beef suppliers for supermarkets across the country.”

I blinked. Slowly. Twice. Like an idiot. Travis laughed quietly beside me and mumbled something that sounded like “thank you Travis” before putting on headphones and before I composed myself to actually speak to this guy.

But speak we did. For the next hour and a half—the remainder of our flight—we talked beef: prices, stock rates, ratios, buying, selling, exporting, breeding. For a suit-wearing guy, he knew his stuff. He probably thought that for an outback dirt junkie, I did okay too.

As we were landing, Blake said, “Your friend was telling me you’ve just been to Kakadu.”

I nodded. “Yep.”

“How was that?”

“Wet,” I answered. “And green.”

Travis, who I had thought was asleep, chuckled. “Charlie thinks anything that’s not red desert sand is abnormal.” Trav sat up straight, took the earphones off and straightened out his long legs.

I shrugged. It was kind of true. We’d been gone a week. A whole week! And as incredible as the holiday with Travis was, I was keen to get home.

“I’d love to see it,” Blake said.

“Kakadu?” I asked. “It’s beautiful,” I agreed. “If wet and green is your thing.”

Blake laughed. “No, I meant your farm.”

The plane had taxied in and people started to move, collecting bags from overhead lockers, and our conversation kind of ended with that. We disembarked and headed toward the luggage conveyor belt.

“Thanks for the company,” I told Blake as I shook his hand. “It was good to talk to someone who appreciates what we do.”

He collected his bag, but seemed to hesitate before leaving, like he was making a decision in his head. He turned back to me. “Look, Charlie, I was serious when I said I wanted to see your place,” he said. “In an official capacity. I’d like to oversee what you do out there. I’ve spoken to enough farmers in my time to know who’s legit or not, and I’ve seen enough stock rate figures to know your name when I hear it.”

“Oh.” Shit. Shit. Shit. This was kind of a very big deal. His offer threw me for a six. “Oh, um…”

He smiled. “If you’re interested, that is. I’ll need to check my schedule, and I’ll let you know when I can fit you in. I hadn’t planned on meeting you, and I’m only here for two days, so it’s real short notice. But I’ll need to see some sales-to-weight reports and I’ll require your vet to be onsite. Can you arrange that?”

“Sure.” I swallowed down my excitement and gave him a nod. “Sounds good.”

We swapped phone numbers and shook hands, and when he walked away, Travis and I stood there for a long while in complete silence.

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

Travis laughed. “Thought you might like to talk to him.”

That made me laugh. “I can’t believe you did that.” I looked at him, still not quite believing what just happened. “Travis, this could be kinda important for us.”

“I know,” he said like I was stupid. “That’s why I swapped seats.”

“I owe you something big.”

“Big as in eight inches?” he asked. “Or big as in a pizza oven or a week in Kakadu?”

Laughing, I pushed him to the luggage conveyor belt. Ours were the only two bags left. When I looked over to the reception area, George was there watching us, smiling and shaking his head.

Man, it felt good to be home.

* * * *

I didn’t want to be getting too excited about this meeting with Blake, but I couldn’t help it. I told George all about it in the ute on the way home, then ran through it again with Ma once we were finally sitting down at her kitchen table.

She, of course, just wanted to know about our holiday.
What was it like? Was the weather okay? Did Travis see any wildlife, like crocodiles and buffalo? What was the accommodation like?

She looked tired, and it weighed on me that we’d left her for a whole week. I could just imagine it would have stressed her out. She’d have worried and naturally felt it her place to keep everyone in line while we were gone.

She pushed her untouched tea away. “So, what was five-star luxury like?”

“It was good—Ow!” I had Nugget, the baby wombat, burrowing under my shirt. It was his favourite place apparently. While the sentiment was nice, his sharp nails on my skin weren’t particularly pleasant. But all the ouching and squirming didn’t deter him. He was only happy if he had his nose was burrowed into my side or in the crook of my arm.

Ma smiled at me. “He’s missed you terribly,” she said, nodding to the movement under my shirt.

“Has he been keeping you awake?” I asked. “You look tired.”

Ma sighed and patted my hand before she stood up. She took her cup and put in the sink. She’d gone from glaring at me when I asked if she was well to now not answering at all. She was either sick of me askin’ or sick of lyin’ about it.

So, again, I changed my approach to her taking it easy. “You should go,” I said. “You and George. A week at the place we stayed at will do you the world of good.”

“They have room service,” Travis added. “And king-sized beds, spa baths, showers for two…” He smiled a little as he obviously got stuck on memories of us in the shower. There were a lot of mental images to go through. He blushed a little, which was rare from him, and he cleared his throat. “That’s probably much more information than you needed.”

“You think?” I asked, still trying to stop Nugget from performing an appendectomy on me with his claws. I ignored Ma’s sly smile. “Anyway, as I was saying,” I redirected the conversation, “I met this guy on the plane—”