Red Dirt Heart 3 (21 page)

He didn’t have to say he didn’t really agree with me. His frown said it all.

“I wasn’t about to risk you gettin’ hurt,” I admitted. “If they wanted a fight, I reckon I probably coulda taken out two or three of them, but if other people joined in, or if they had a knife or something…” I shook my head. “Isn’t there some country song about knowin’ when to walk away and knowin’ when to run?”

He finally smiled. And so God help me, he started to sing. “You gotta know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em—”

I held up my injured hand in the universal sign for please-fucking-stop. But of course he didn’t. He just laughed and sang the whole damn song. Twice. The only way I could get him to stop was to sing along—louder than him.

Only after he’d laughed himself out of singing, I leaned myself against him with my feet up on the window, lifted his arm over my shoulder so it lay across my chest and I closed my eyes. “Trav?”

“Yeah?”

“You can’t sing for shit.”

“Neither can you.”

“Trav?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t quit your day job.”

He snorted. “I can’t,” he said. “I’m kind of in love with my boss.”

I chuckled and kissed the inside of his arm where it hung over my shoulder and alongside my face. “Is he a good sort?”

“I think so. Others might not agree.”

I snorted. “I’m sure they wouldn’t. But anyway, I hear your boss is taken.”

“Is that right?” he played along.

“Yep. Some American guy, or so I hear.” I sighed dramatically. “Smart, hot, the sexiest forearms you’ve ever seen.”

Travis laughed. “Sexy forearms, huh?”

“Yep, when he lifts something heavy or pulls the reins on his horse, all the muscles bulge. Or maybe his thighs or his arse, or maybe it’s his eyes or his smile, I don’t know,” I said. “It could be his patience or his sense of humour. Maybe it’s the way he listens.”

Trav didn’t say anything, just gave me a squeeze.

“Anyway, from what I hear, your boss took one look at this American guy and was a goner.”

“Goner?”

“Yep. Tripped all over himself and fell head first into love.”

Travis snorted out a laugh. “Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re a dickhead sometimes.”

I closed my eyes and smiled. “Shut up. I’m trying to sleep.”

I spent a few thinkin’ minutes in silence. “Trav?”

“Yes?”

“I wanna meet my brother.”

* * * *

The mood at the station was happy. There was excitement about the new Land Cruiser—Bacon and Ernie were looking under the bonnet when we pulled up—George was telling funny hospital stories, and everyone was smiling.

But most of all, Ma was home.

If I had to point to the one person who ran this place, regardless who actually owned it or what job they did, it would be her.

This station was like a horse and its rider. I might have owned the horse and kept it fed, but it was Ma who held the reins.

It was such a relief to have her back.

Once we’d unloaded everything and finally got inside, Ma was in the living room, in her favourite chair. I scooped Nugget out of his new playpen and sat down with him on my lap. The little guy was pleased to see me, apparently. He nudged and nuzzled me, scratching the crap out of me, to say hello. When I looked at Ma, she was smiling at me. “How was your trip?” I asked.

“Oh, Charlie,” she said. “The new car is just lovely. But I wish you hadn’t gone to such expense just for me.”

“It wasn’t just for you,” I said. “It was long overdue.”

“Regardless, I do appreciate it,” she said. “Though I think George may be in love. He might leave me for a car.”

I snorted. “He liked it that much, huh?”

Ma laughed quietly, but then she studied me for a while. “It was lovely, Charlie. You’re too kind.”

I ignored her compliment. “How do you feel?”

“Okay. Tired, which makes no sense. All I’ve done this last week is rest.”

“You’ve also just had major surgery.”

Ma sighed in a it’s-pointless-to-argue kind of way. She looked around the room and nodded toward the wombat-proof crate. “I see Nugget’s got himself a bed?”

“Travis made it because he gets into everything, chews on boots, scratches furniture, gets under everyone’s feet. You’re a pain in the butt, aren’t you?” I asked, looking down at Nugget and giving him a scratch behind the ear. He seriously looked like he smiled. I shook my head and chuckled. “He’s a character, that’s for sure.”

“I can see that,” Ma said with a fond smile.

I sat back and sighed. “It’s real good to have you home, Ma. This place is too damn quiet without you.”

“Everything here seems to have gone okay?” she asked. “Hope no one gave Nara a hard time. She seems to have done well.”

“She did well,” I said. “Handled it perfectly and only told me to get out of the kitchen once.”

Ma laughed, but immediately held her stomach. “Oh, don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she answered. “Just gonna take me a while to get back to good, that’s all.”

“You take as much time as you need and let us wait on you for a change, huh?”

Ma smiled, but then was serious again. “You talked to Laura?”

I nodded. “Yep. It was better this morning, I think. Easier would probably be a better way to describe it,” I said. “I think she understands where I’m coming from.”

Ma smiled sadly at me. “I spoke to her too. She popped her head into my room every day. It wasn’t easy at first, but she explained what happened. She said she just wanted to make contact and that she knows she went about it all wrong. You know, I think she’s genuine, Charlie.”

“I do too,” I agreed. “Travis doesn’t, but his concerns are more about me than her.”

Ma smiled. “He’s just worried about you, that’s all. I’m sure George would be the same about me.”

I snorted. “I’m sure he would.”

“Where’s Travis now?” she asked.

“Checking on the poddy calves. At the rate he’s naming them, we’re gonna have the battle of the bands.”

Ma chuckled. “You two been okay? No more stupid fighting?”

I shook my head. “No stupid fighting,” I told her. Then I sighed, long and loud. “He’s been my absolute rock, Ma. I’m pretty sure I’d have thrown the towel in a long time ago if it weren’t for him.”

Ma smiled warmly at me. “You’re stronger than you think you are, Charlie. I think he’s just helped you see that, that’s all.”

Just then, the front screen door banged and Travis walked in, falling on to the sofa beside me. He gave Nugget a scratch on the head and said, “Here’s the little boot chewer.”

“You okay?” I asked. He didn’t look too happy.

Trav sighed. “John Lennon died.”

I’m sure he saw the confusion on my face. “Um, Trav. That was a long time ago.”

“Not
that
John Lennon,” he said with a you’re-an-idiot kind of eye roll. “The calf. We had The Beatles, well, now they’re down to three.”

“Oh.”

He sighed again. “I know he was kinda sickly when we found him. I shouldn’t be surprised. If any of them weren’t gonna make it, it was him.”

I put my hand on his knee. “Trav, raisin’ poddies is a fickle thing. Percentages are never high.”

“I know. And I shouldn’t be bothered by it, really,” he said. “I mean, we’re cattle ranchers, after all. They might be cute when they’re babies, but they end up being dinner for someone at some point.”

I snorted. “Well, yeah. True.”

I kind of felt hypocritical about it all. Especially while I was holding a baby wombat that I couldn’t even contemplate handin’ over to a rescue centre.

I looked down to the content-with-his-nose-buried-under-my-arm little guy on my lap and shifted him onto Travis’s lap. Before either of them could protest, I took off my jacket and threw it over Nugget, knowing my scent would placate him and he’d like the burrow-like dark, even if it was on Travis and not me.

I went into the kitchen, made a cup of tea for Ma and a bottle for Nugget, and joined them back in the lounge room. I sat right next to Trav, in a cuddlin’-on-the-couch way while he fed Nugget and Ma sipped her tea.

Everyone else was heading into town in the morning for a much-needed and long-overdue weekend off. It was gonna leave just me, Trav, George, Ma and Nara on hand. Ma was restricted to rest and Nara said she much preferred stayin’ here than goin’ back to town. It was the only place that truly felt like a home, she’d said. It was a notion I could sympathise with completely.

“You know what?” I said, feeling very content next to Trav. “We should crank up the pizza oven tonight. A bit of a celebration that Ma’s home and a thank you to everyone for manning the fort while we’ve been gone.”

Trav kissed the side of my head. “Sounds good.”

Despite having a ton of work to do, inside and out, those twenty minutes of blissful everything-is-right-with-the-world peace were almost perfect.

I should have known better than to jinx myself.

* * * *

The weekend
was
perfect. Me and Trav worked together and got a lot done despite my cut hand. George stayed kinda close to the homestead, but was forever busy, whistlin’ happily to himself as he worked. Ma was either resting or sitting in the kitchen with Nara most of the time, not physically doing anything, just instructin’ her on different recipes and how to best cook ahead. When they weren’t in the kitchen, they were at the dining table, and Ma was helping Nara with what looked like schoolwork. I spent Saturday evening getting some office organising things with Greg for the upcoming elections, and when the house was quiet, Trav and I did some movie-watching, couch-cuddling that became take-me-to-bed slow-love-makin’.

It was absolutely never-woulda-thought-it-possible perfect.

But then perfect took a nosedive into reality with Travis’s usual Sunday Skype with his mum. She didn’t look her cheerful, smilin’ self, and when he asked her what was wrong, she burst into tears.

“Oh, Travis,” she cried. “It’s your grandpa.”

“Mom?” he asked quietly.

She spoke through her tears. “It’s not good, love. I think you should come home.”

Normally I would say a quick hello to his mum and any other family that stuck their head in front of their computer during a Skype call. Sometimes I’d stay for a bit and we’d have a laugh, but I’d usually give him some catch-up time with his family.

But not today.

He held my hand to the near bone-breakin’ point.

Travis listened as his mum told him about his grandpa, her father, who had a massive stroke, and how the man Travis was named after was in the hospital and not expected to leave. She told Travis the doctors were talkin’ in days, not weeks, so if he wanted a chance to say goodbye, then he should come home real quick.

I’d never seen him struggle like that. I’d seen him pissed off, I’d seen him upset and I’d seen him just about ready to walk away.

But I ain’t ever seen him so… helpless.

He did this lost-for-words thing where all he could do was bite his lip, shake his head and blink back tears. He took a shaky breath. “Momma, I want to be there,” he said. “But I can’t just leave.”

“Oh, Travis,” his mum said.

“What?” I asked him. “Trav, why not?”

Travis looked at me then. His eyes were a haunted kind of sad and the first of his tears started to fall. “I can’t leave you. You have so much going on right now and I promised I’d help you.”

I cupped his face in my hands, not caring that his mother was witnessing it all via Skype. “I can come with you,” I told him.

He shook his head. “But you’ve got the Beef Farmers elections, your final assessments are due, the supermarket buyer’s vet will be here this week, plus everything that’s happening with Ma, and Trudy,” he said, shaking his head. “Oh God. What about Laura and Sam? Charlie, he’s your brother. You said you want to meet him for the very first time.” More tears fell as he cried. “You can’t just up and leave.”

“Travis, they don’t matter. You shouldn’t go alone—” My words died when something occurred to me. I sighed and closed my eyes, and whispered, “Oh. I can’t go.” I tried to smile for him and failed miserably. “I don’t have a passport.”

He was quiet for a long second and he bowed his head. “Oh.”

“You have to go, Trav.”

He looked at me then. “I don’t want you to be alone right now. I pushed you into doing half this stuff. It’s my fault you’re so swamped.”

“I will be just fine. We’ll get through it, and you know what? The rest can wait.” I wiped his tears with my thumbs. “It can all wait. It doesn’t matter if all of those things fall through, Travis. At the end of the day, they’re not important.”

“Yes, they are,” he said. “They’re important to you, to this farm.”

“Nowhere near as important to me than you,” I whispered. “Trav, baby, you have to go.”

His eyebrows furrowed and his face fell.

“I know what it’s like to not be there,” I told him. “I wasn’t here when my father passed away, and I don’t want you to go through that.” I looked back at the computer screen. Travis’s mum was still crying, dabbing a tissue to her eyes. “Mrs Craig? He’ll be on the next plane.”

* * * *

I guess bein’ busy helped with not-over-thinkin’, because I’m pretty sure my head didn’t stop spinning until we were a good hour into our trip back to Alice Springs.

That’s when my heart started hurtin’.

We’d checked flights from Alice to Sydney and we had to leave in twenty minutes to make the flight. Trav threw God-knows-what into his bag, and neither of us had time to stop and think until we were well on our way.

Then realisation crept in.

I’d have thought it would be more like the scorching summer sun, blistering and unforgiving.

But it wasn’t.

Realisation was more like a desert winter. A coldness settled into my bones, making me docile and numb, making my chest heavy and tight. The chill of realisation that crept through me.

Travis was leaving.

We’d only bought a one-way ticket. He’d be gone for as long as he needed to be gone for.