Red Dirt Heart 3 (28 page)

Ignoring the lump in my throat and the ache in my chest, I smiled at Sam. “So, how was your flight?”

“Good,” he said. “It’s been years since I’ve been to the Alice. Ainsley’s never been, so it was good for her to see it too.”

“And the drive out here wasn’t too boring, I hope,” I said, looking at them both.

He smiled. “It sure is different.”

“And flat,” Ainsley said. “And red.”

I laughed at that. “That pretty much sums it up.”

It turned out Sam was in corporate finance insurance with one of the big banks, which is where he met Ainsley. He went to school and uni in Darwin, and he loves it. “Stinking hot and humid are my two favourite seasons,” he said with a bit of a laugh.

He could ride a horse, but he hadn’t in years. He rode a motorbike to work, loved kayaking and played footy on weekends. “That’s what’s so good about Darwin,” he said. “The city’s there if you want, but it’s more like a big-country coastal town.”

“I was only in Darwin a month or two ago,” I told him. “Well, we flew up and went out to Kakadu. So it wasn’t a long trip. But the city’s not really my scene. I spent three years in Sydney—that was enough for me.”

“Three years?” he asked.

“Yep. I went to uni there,” I said, omitting the whole my-father-made-me-go-because-I’m-gay part of the conversation. “Loved it when I was there, but not sure I could go back now.”

We’d long finished the scones and tea, and I knew Nara would want the table for lunch soon. I made a point of looking at my watch. “We’re about to be trampled by the lunchtime crowd,” I said and then suggested I show them around outside.

So before the station hands came in, we headed outside. We walked around the homestead, just strolling and talking, and we ended up at the stables and I introduced them to Shelby. Then it was Laura who suggested that maybe me and Sam might like to go for a ride. Just us, no interruptions, no one listening, no one watching and judging. We had some years to catch up on, she’d said.

I thought it sounded like a pretty good idea.

I considered giving him Shelby, because she was quiet as a lamb most of the time, but she could also be a bad-tempered thing if she wanted. And considering how, after the last time I got on Texas, Shelby almost put me through the fence, I figured Sam would be safer on Travis’s horse.

I told George where we’d be going, saddled the horses, and headed east. Sam relaxed a bit, and maybe I did too. “So, your mum dropped a bombshell by telling you about me, huh?” I asked.

He snorted. “Ah, yeah. I was shocked and a bit pissed off, to be honest, but I guess she had her reasons for only telling me now.”

“Yeah, it was a bit of a shock to me too,” I told him. “I’d had no clue, about her or you. She just turned up one day.”

“I think she feels bad about that,” he said. “She said she doesn’t really even remember driving out here. She found that magazine with you on the cover and the next thing she knew she pulled up out the front of your house.”

I laughed at that. “Yeah, it was a surprise. Well, not her so much, but the news of you was, that’s for sure.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, a brother,” I said, embarrassed. Maybe I shouldn’t have used that word just yet. “I spent a whole lotta years out here wonderin’ what it’d be like to have someone else my age around.”

Sam looked out across the red and barren landscape, and shook his head, almost in wonder. “I can’t imagine what it was like to grow up out here.”

“It was pretty good,” I told him. “It was fun, when I was a kid anyway. I got into enough mischief to drive Ma crazy.”

Sam laughed. “She seems real nice.”

“Who, Ma? She’s the best.” Then I thought since we were on the subject of mothers… “You know, I don’t blame your mum for leavin’. I just wanted you to know that.”

Sam shifted in the saddle and seemed to think about my words for a while. “I don’t either,” he said. “I didn’t get it at first, to be honest. But the more I thought about it, the more I think she made the only decision she felt she could at that time, you know? It must have been hard.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I don’t remember her. I remember brown hair, that’s all. I think I was four when she left. But Ma’s been my real mum every day since. And you know what? That’s how I like it.”

“And your dad?” he asked. “Well, technically my dad too, I guess.”

I chuckled. “It’s a bit to get your head around, isn’t it?” Then I sighed and told him the truth. “My dad was okay. Growin’ up, when I was still a kid, he was okay. He worked a lot, always busy runnin’ this place, and that was fine. I had Ma and George too. But when I got older, he… well, he wasn’t so nice.”

Sam frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“You know,” I said, “I think I’ve learned more about my father since he died than I did when he was still here.”

“And what’s that?”

“That I didn’t know him at all,” I said. “But your mum remarried, yeah?”

Sam smiled. “Yeah. He’s great. I call him my dad. Always have.”

“And Ainsley?” I asked. “How long have you been together?”

“Two years,” he answered. “I hope you didn’t mind her coming here. I asked her to come with me to meet you, you know, for moral support.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad she’s here.” It was something I understood. Something I wished I had. “Um, Travis… he’s my boyfriend… well, he
was
… he went home, back to the States. His grandpa died, so it’s not like he wanted to go,” I said, trying not to sound too pathetic. “But he’s been gone almost four weeks and I haven’t heard from him in almost two weeks…”

“You miss him.”

“Very much.”

Then I thought about it. “I assume Laura told you that I was gay.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah.”

“Something funny?”

He smiled. “Mum was kind of excited actually. She said this way she gets a daughter-in-law and a son-in-law.” He shook his head. “But she thinks Travis—is that his name?”

I nodded.

“She thinks Travis doesn’t like her very much.” Then he corrected, “Well, not that he doesn’t like her, more that he’s very protective of you.”

I nodded and couldn’t help but smile. “I dunno,” I said. “He was only supposed to be gone for a little while, but now he won’t answer my emails or Skype calls, so I can just assume the worst, yeah?”

“Maybe he’s just busy or something,” he offered.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I don’t have a problem with it,” he said quickly. “I mean, it’s fine with me. I don’t care either way.”

“Well, good,” I said flatly. “Because if you did, you’d be gettin’ off my boyfriend’s horse and walkin’ home.”

I didn’t care if I offended him. I was finally—
finally
—comfortable in my own skin, and I wasn’t having some stranger turn up at my house and have a problem with who I was. But I needn’t have worried, because Sam threw his head back and laughed.

“You can laugh all you want,” I told him, smiling. Then after a pause, I said, “Your mum seemed okay with it. With me and Trav. She didn’t even bat an eyelid.”

Sam smiled at that. “Nah, not much fazes her. Dunno if it’s ’cause she’s a nurse or what, but she’s pretty cool with most things. And she said you and I have the same taste in partners,” he said with a grin. “Blond hair, blue eyes?”

I considered that. “I guess we do.”

Sam looked out over the saltbush to the flat, flat horizon. “Tell me about this place. What do you actually do?”

So I told him. We rode and talked for hours, but it went by so fast. He was easy to talk to: we found the same things funny, we even laughed alike. It was uncanny and disconcerting, in a good way, that we could have nothing but DNA in common—we’d never spent a minute together before now—yet we were so similar.

It was like something out of the
Twilight Zone
.

We weren’t the same in every aspect. He was city raised and had an office job, his office was a cubicle, and my office was 2.58 million acres. He liked the convenience of takeout food and going to bars on weekends, whereas that was all so foreign to me. He liked bands I’d never heard of, and he talked of his friends like he had a hundred of them. He loved the ocean and open water, and I was a desert-dweller.

There were fundamental differences between us.

But there was also something very fundamentally the same. We were woven from the same cloth. And there was something unexpected but oddly comforting about that.

By the time we rode back home, I had no doubt that me and Sam would be okay. I had no idea what the future might bring, but I was pretty certain we’d stay in touch at least. We unsaddled the horses, brushed them down and fed them, and he was still smiling when we walked inside.

“We’re in here,” Ma called out from the lounge room. They were having a cup of tea, and Ma smiled when she saw that Sam and I had gotten along. “Nugget’s keeping us entertained.”

“Where is the little guy?” I asked just as the tiny wombat did his little jumpy-run out from behind one lounge and tackled his Rumble Bear. I scooped him up and ruffled his forehead. “Are you being a show off?”

Sam took a seat next to Ainsley. “Isn’t he just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” she cried.

“Cute?” I asked. “He’s a monster. A sleep-stealin’, boot-chewin’ monster.” I looked at Ma. “Has he been fed?”

“About an hour ago,” she said. “I thought we might get the pizza oven fired up tonight. How does that sound?”

“Perfect.”

And it was. Everyone had met Laura and Ainsley in the hours that Sam and I were riding, so when they all came in for dinner, I introduced him. There were a few stares and comments about the likeness between us, but as the night went on, he talked and chatted with everyone, laughing and taking the piss about football.

Ma sat down beside me. “He’s a nice kid,” she said. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you decided to meet him.”

“Me too,” I said. I took a deep breath. “I wish Trav could have met him, Ma. He’d like him.”

Ma’s face fell. “I wish he could have too, love.”

Then Trudy stood up. “If I could have a minute,” she said loudly. “Um, while everyone’s here, I guess now is a good time to tell you all that I’m pregnant.” She looked right at me and nodded. “Me and Bacon are having a baby.”

I had to blink back instant tears, but I stood up and hugged her so damn hard. “Thank you, thank you,” I whispered. “You’re gonna do great.”

I got shunted out of the way by everyone else congratulating them, and it was such, such good news. Ma was crying and just kept repeatin’ “A baby. We’re having a baby” until George hugged her to shut her up. I was so happy for them, yet all I kept thinking was I wished Travis was here. I wished so damn much it hurt.

Later that night when I was lyin’ in bed with nothing but silence and heartache, I reached out and touched his pillow. “I wish you were here,” I told him. “I wish you didn’t leave me.”

Nobody answered.

* * * *

The next morning was busy. I was up early to get the dogs and horses fed before helping Nara in the kitchen. Breakfast was a loud affair, with much laughing and chatter. I don’t think Sam and Ainsley were strictly morning people, but they sure were grateful for Travis’s coffee machine and were soon smiling.

George took a phone call after breakfast and said the delivery I’d ordered at the co-op had arrived. He said Ma needed something in town as well, and considering I had company, he took the new Cruiser and drove out. By the way he was smiling, I think Ma might have been right about his love affair with the new car.

We spent the morning checking poddy calves. It was interesting to see Laura get right in and help, but Sam and Ainsley kind of stood back. Like I said, we were similar, but we weren’t the same.

It was great for them to visit, but this was still a working farm. As much as I would have liked to talk to them all day, things still needed to get done.

Bacon, Ernie and Billy headed out in the first western paddock to do a check for sick and abandoned calves and would be gone for most of the day. And just before lunch, Ma stood on the veranda waving. “It’s Ernie. He’s on the two-way radio.”

Not knowing what was wrong, I ran into my office and lifted the receiver of the two-way. “What’s up?”

Ernie’s voice crackled through. “Charlie, we got a birthing cow down. Her back legs don’t work. She’s not looking too good.”

“Goddammit.”

Great. Just what I didn’t need. Pregnancy paraplegia wasn’t too uncommon. It was where the unborn calf would press against the nerve to the back legs. The cow would regain full use of the legs once the pressure was eased once the calf was born. But it meant the cow couldn’t birth properly and usually the calf would die and, more often than not, the mother as well.

“Where abouts are you?” I asked. “First western paddock, yes?” Which was only about a thousand square kilometres of desert. “How far in? Are you near one of the bores?”

“Charlie,” Ernie’s voice cracked again. “This cow, it’s wearing one of those tracking device collars.”

I flipped open my laptop and brought up the tracking screen and checked the location feature. “There are three cows in that paddock wearing them,” I told him.

“We went northeast of the third bore,” Ernie said. “Dunno how long for. Maybe fifteen, twenty kays.”

I looked on the screen, and right about where Ernie said, there was a little red flashing circle along with the GPS coordinates. “I can see you. I know exactly where you are. I’m on my way.”

I picked my backpack, the one I always had ready with a phone and some bottled water, just as Laura came inside followed by Sam and Ainsley. “Everything okay?” Laura asked.

“We’ve got a birthing cow in trouble,” I told her. “Wanna come?”

She nodded quickly and looked at Sam and Ainsley. “You two can come too.”

Ma looked at the clock. She looked anxious, like she had something to say but didn’t want to. Or couldn’t. “You okay, Ma?”

She made a face. “George will be back any minute. Maybe you should wait—”

“No time. But when he gets in, tell him where we are.” I turned my laptop around so she could see the screen and pointed to the red dot in particular. “Show him this. He’ll know exactly where to find us.”