The Shearing Gun (12 page)

Back at my house, he grabbed his car and dashed off. He had missed morning clinic hours, so they had shuffled most of them to the afternoon, but he still had a load of patients waiting for him. I wondered when I would see him again. We still hadn’t talked about what happened over the phone, and I knew Elliot liked to talk these things out. But days passed and I didn’t hear from him.

I didn’t miss him. Not really.

Really.

Then Thursday evening he called me on my mobile. I was burning sausages and cursing a blue streak when the phone sprung into song.

“Fuck… bloody hell! What?” I answered without looking at the caller as I danced around the kitchen, shaking my hand madly from the pain of touching a burning hot frying pan.

There was silence on the other end of the phone. I dropped a couple more
fucks,
turned on the tap, and shoved my fingers under the cold water to numb the pain and hopefully prevent any blisters.

Finally a reedy voice came through the line. “Hank?”

“Is that you, Elliot? Shit, mate! I can hardly hear you. Fucking hell! I just burnt my fingers. Fuck! What’s up?”

There was silence again. I shut off the water with a frown.

“Elliot? Doc? Are you there?”

Without the water causing a racket, I could hear him swallow loudly. “Are you home, Hank?” His voice was all quiet and subdued. Something was wrong.

“Yeah, mate. What’s up? Are you in trouble?”

I heard him sigh. “Are you alone?”

My eyebrows rose into my hair line. “Yeah, mate. Just me and Buck and three hundred sheep.”

“Can I… can I come over? I just need…. Fuck, Hank!” He was all quiet and then burst out with curses. “Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck-fuck. I hate this life! We have all this fucking technology, and then….” I was confused.

“Quackle? What’s wrong, mate?”

I heard his breath rush out and what sounded suspiciously like a sob. “Keira Davies’s baby died. It was a boy.”

Aw, no. Jesus.
I closed my eyes and sagged against the cupboard. I told myself that there were no tears pricking behind my eyelids as I said to Elliot, “Shit, mate. Of course I’m home. Come on over and I’ll make you some dinner. There’ll be plenty of beer too.”

I heard him sniff. “Thanks, Hank. I’ll be there soon.”

It didn’t even occur to me until later what the hell I thought I was doing. I hung up the phone and dialed Jimmie. Jimmie was my “mum” figure, and when the shit hit the fan in his house, he baked. I needed a biscuit recipe fast!

“Jimmie? Emergency food needed. I have about twenty minutes until Elliot arrives, how do I make those melted-honey things?”

Jimmie talked me through the recipe, and soon I had a batch of biscuits in the oven. Then I whipped up more sausages and scrambled eggs. The biscuits were cooling on the bench when I saw the lights of his car pull into the driveway. So I dished up two plates of sausages, eggs, and fried tomatoes from my garden, popped the top on two beer bottles, and set it all on the table.

I met him at the door, and he looked haggard. The life and vitality had been sucked out of him, leaving an empty shell behind. I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t worry about sexualities and fishing and penises and friendship. I gathered him into my arms and gave comfort where I could.

He grabbed hold of me like a drowning sailor, and sagged. I wrapped both arms around his shoulders and rocked him like a child. He clutched at my waist and buried his face in my neck as he released his grief and tension. I heard him sniff and then whisper, “Why, Hank? Why?”

I looked at the blackness of the night through the open door. We were letting a thousand mozzies in the house, but there were more important things to worry about. “I dunno, Ell. We just have to believe there’s a reason and that God has a purpose for everything, or else we’ll go mad. I’m just a woolly-headed country boy and I don’t understand. Maybe you need to acknowledge that no matter how much learning you have in your head, God is a hundred times smarter than you, and you will never understand. So don’t try. Just take it on the chin, learn from the lesson, and hope that some good comes out of the bad.”

“But why do bad things happen to good people?”

I sighed and rubbed at his bony shoulder blade. “I don’t think that the bad stuff is restricted to either good or bad people. It’s more like—why
not
good people? The shit flies, and it just lands where it does. Don’t analyze it too much.”

He was silent, apart from his breathing, which wasn’t exactly smooth. Finally I gave his back a couple of solid whacks and said, “Come on, mate. I have dinner on the table and two beers that are calling our names. Come in and eat and tell me all about it.”

I listened as he offloaded on me. He told me that Keira had come to the clinic worried because the baby hadn’t moved for a long while. Doc Larsen had been doing clinic hours at nearby Kukerin, so Elliot had examined her and couldn’t find the baby’s heartbeat.

“It was already too late, Hank. He was gone.”

I smiled sympathetically. “It’s not your fault, Ell.”

He stared at his half-eaten meal. “I know. I know. I keep telling myself that, but it feels like my fault. I’m a doctor, aren’t I? I’m supposed to save lives, not deliver dead babies.”

I could feel his pain. This needed more than beer. I grabbed the bottle of scotch I had stashed in the top of my pantry and poured. Three shots and six biscuits later, he curled up on the lounge next to me, put his head in my lap, and fell asleep. I looked down in consternation. Obviously he was a lightweight when it came to alcohol. He was smashed, but at least he had lost that grief-stricken look.

I lightly stroked his hair, enjoying the feel of the tightly wound curls against my fingers. He felt like a fuzzy newborn lamb, although I would never tell him that. He would be mortified. He sighed in his sleep and snuggled down, relaxing more as his worries disappeared. I gently ran one finger down his jawline, enjoying the feel of stubble. When I hooked up, I didn’t usually get to cuddle and simply enjoy being with another man. They were all about sex and sensuality, so unless I was touching a pleasure zone, I wasn’t welcome to explore. Elliot’s lashes were dark against his pale skin, giving his eyes a bruised look. I feathered my knuckles over them and delighted in their softness as they tickled my skin.

I looked down at his body. He was curled rather uncomfortably on my lounge with his feet hanging over the edge. He had taken to wearing jeans, I noticed. He’d probably run out of white and cream-colored clothes because he was unable to get the dirt stains out. The collared shirt he was wearing was dark blue, but had a white horse embroidered on it. It was poncy and cute at the same time. His jacket was draped over the back of the chair in the kitchen, and I noticed he shivered a bit. I had the fire going in the kitchen, but the heat didn’t always make it all the way into the lounge room.

I gently lifted his head, stood up, and put a cushion under his face. He couldn’t stay there all night or he’d have a broken back by morning, but I decided to let him sleep for a bit before I tried to get him to walk to my spare room. I chucked another log on the fire and then retrieved his jacket to lay over him for warmth. His phone was heavy in the pocket, and I suddenly realized that I hadn’t even asked if he was on call at the clinic before getting the poor guy drunk.

I wondered what the hell I should do. I needed to let them know that he wouldn’t be attending any emergencies, but I didn’t know who to ring.

In the end I rang Neil.

“H’lo? Hank? What the fuck are you doing, ringing so late?”

I glanced at the clock with a guilty conscience. I hadn’t even considered what the time was. It actually wasn’t that late—by city standards. But for guys who started work with sunup, it was rather impolite.

“Sorry, Neil. I didn’t even think. Look. I’m sorry to ask this, but is Gloria with you?”

There was a pause before Neil answered, as if he were considering his reply. “Gloria? No. Why would she be with me?”

The guy couldn’t lie for money or fame. “Just pass the phone over, mate. I don’t have time for this bullshit. I only need to talk to her for two seconds, and we can pretend I never called.”

“Fuck!” Neil swore, and then I heard his muffled voice tell Gloria that I wanted to talk to her. She sounded confused and alarmed, but came on the line quickly.

“Hank? What’s wrong?”

“Hey, Gloria. Sorry to bother, but did you hear what happened in town earlier today? With Keira?”

I heard her blow out a big breath and reply, “Yeah. It’s heartbreaking. I had myself a good cry when I heard.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. What was I? Fucking Agony Aunt? It seemed everyone needed sympathy, and I squirmed a bit on my chair. “It’s just I have Elliot over at my place. He didn’t take it that well and now he’s passed out drunk on my lounge.”

Gloria’s compassion was immediate. “Oh, sheesh. Poor guy. It wasn’t his fault.”

“I know. But the problem is, he didn’t tell me if he was on call before he crashed. So how do I get in touch with someone?”

“Oh. Yes. Okay. Umm….” Gloria hummed a bit before saying, “Leave it with me. I’ll make a couple of phone calls and let Doctor Larsen know and the emergency service if needs be.”

I was relieved. “Thanks, Gloria. I don’t want it spread through the town, though. I think it only hit Ell hard because it was a baby and all, you know?”

“I understand, Hank. And I’ll make sure Neil keeps his big trap shut too.”

I laughed. “Good luck with that, Gloria! I’ve tried for years without success.”

She giggled into the phone. “I don’t think you had the right equipment for effective bribery, Hank. I’ll make sure he shuts up about this phone call. My problem is how to make sure you don’t go blabbing about finding me here.”

I laughed. “I’m good at secrets, didn’t you know? Did you hear about who Mark Nicholson knocked up?”

“No! Who?” Her tone was one of extreme surprise and curiosity.

“See,” I crowed. “I can keep a secret. Don’t worry about me telling everyone. See you later, huh?”

“What?” she shrieked. “You’re not going to tell me? Oh, you are a bugger, Henry Woods.”

“Now, now. Name calling won’t help your cause,” I teased.

She laughed and told me she would see me soon.

After I hung up, I half carried a semiconscious Elliot to my spare bed. The house on my property was older than I was, and the rooms were tiny. It had been advertised as a “cottage residence,” which really means pokey and not big enough for more than two people. I only had a single bed in the spare room, but it was always made up, ready in case Paul dropped by.

I helped Elliot to lie down, then took off his shoes, socks, and jeans. I told myself that I would do the same for any mate, but I couldn’t help staring at his white briefs and wishing them gone. I was tempted to explore while he was out, but my morals were still strong.

I tucked him into the blankets and ran my hands over his hair once more before turning off the light. I cleaned up, checked on Buck, used the toilet, and rolled into bed myself. I discovered that Gloria had sent me a message via Neil’s phone.

Dr. Larsen is on call tonight, so not a problem. Dr. M is due at the clinic for his first patient at 8:30am. XXXX, Gloria.

I turned out the light and hoped Elliot didn’t suffer too badly from hangovers.

Chapter 11

A
LOUD
thump woke me from the depths of sleep, and I blinked in the darkness, wondering if I’d really heard it or if it was only a dream. A crash of furniture and some cursing from Elliot had me flying out of bed and into the next room.

I turned on the hallway light and peered into the spare bedroom, only to find Elliot on the floor with his white-briefed arse in the air. He was disoriented, and his expression was adorably befuddled as I helped him to his feet.

“You alright, Quackle?”

He was still half asleep and not quite sober as he muttered to me, “Need to piss.”

I smiled, took him by the hand as if he were a toddler, and led him to the toilet at the back of the house. I hung around as he used the room and then took him back to bed.

“Hank?” he asked as I urged him to get back under the covers.

“Yeah, mate?”

“I like you.”

I swallowed and tried to hide my smile. “I like you too, mate. Now get into bed.”

He obediently put his feet in the bed, and I pulled up the covers. “Hank?”

“Yeah, mate?”

“I mean I
really
like you.”

I bit my tongue to stop myself from laughing. “I know, mate. Now go to sleep, and we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“Okay.”

He closed his eyes and snuggled down, so I turned off the hallway light and got back into my bed, sighing and trying to recall sleep. I could only sleep on my back or my right side due to my broken collarbone, and it bugged the hell out of me. There was the call of an owl and the high
yip-yip
of a fox coming from outside and I mentally reminded myself that maybe a shooting night was in order. I sighed and tried to sleep.