The Shearing Gun (27 page)

I grinned like a kid about to meet Father Christmas. “Daniel Akker—shearing gun of the century.” I heard a couple of scoffs, but they were in jest. “And three fifteen is top pay. Usually we’re paid between two dollars and two dollars seventy-five per sheep.”

“What’s a shearing gun?”

“It’s a term for a champion shearer who can shear a large quantity of sheep in a single day. Like you say ‘tennis pro’ or ‘car racing ace’—a gun is a fast shearer. Now there’ll be arguments among the boys as to what constitutes a gun, but usually it’s if someone can average over about three fifty a day, or someone who has made it over four hundred.”

Elliot looked at me. “You’ve made it over four hundred several times this year.”

I tried to act humble, but several of the boys lifted their glasses and shouted “’Ray” at that statement, and I grinned widely. Mike answered, “Yep. Hank here is definitely a gun, which is why Bev Spencer was trying to get in touch with him. It’s going to be a magical day. Bev will have nine guns. That’s a turnover of at least four hundred sheep an hour.”

I saw Ell do the sums in his head. “What? Seven fleeces a minute?”

“Yep—for ten hours if we have to. That’s why we have Jameson coming.”

Stewie sat forward to talk to Elliot, his face lit up. “Jameson’s a master classer who they say can skirt a fleece in fifteen seconds. I’ve worked with him before on some of the bigger spreads. He charges a fuckin’ arm and a leg for his services, and treats everyone like servants, but he’s the best.”

“Can he keep up with nine guns, though?” This was from Coxy.

“You’d better hope so—Mike and Petersen are throwing for him.”

My phone rang right then, and I stood to answer it away from the noise. It was Bevin Spencer. Thirty seconds later I was on board for shearing in his team the following day and ringing Paddy B to explain that I wouldn’t be working at his place, after all. He’d heard the news about Spencer and was understanding for me to pull out. I yelled across the room that Paddy needed a shearer to replace me the following day, and Gavin volunteered.

It was great to see everyone mucking in to help out a fellow farmer.

I spread the news that Bevin had told me. “He’s also got O’Reilly coming and Jackson Junior.”

“How the hell did he get Jackson Junior on such short notice?” Stewie asked, wide-eyed.

Of course Neil, our local gossiper, knew. “The Spencers and the Jacksons are considered family. Jackson Senior was married to Bevin Spencer’s older sister for a bit. She died from cancer only eight months after the wedding. Jackson Senior then up and married Peggy Reynolds only a couple of months later, and Jackson Junior was born nine months and two days after they buried the first Mrs. Jackson.”

Well, hell.

I continued. “Bevin has asked if any of the ladies in the district could drop by with some food for the shearers and hands? Mrs. Spencer is busy organizing plane tickets and packing.”

A couple of the lads told me that they’d spread the word, and even a bloke from a nearby table called out that he’d phone his missus right then.

I finished my drink and called good-bye. Spencer was starting at six the following morning—an hour early to get in a ten-hour shearing day. Elliot followed me out. The car park was dark, but not dark enough. Between the privacy of our two cars, I grabbed his hand and squeezed.

“I was plannin’ on sneaking back to your house tonight, Quackle.”

He sighed and twined our fingers together. “I didn’t realize how hard this relationship was going to be when we started. I liked you a lot but it was more—sorry to say—more a sexual itch to scratch in the beginning. Now you’re all I think about every morning and every night. I want to be with you, Hank. I don’t like all this slinking around in the dark.”

“We have to, Ell. If it ever got out, do you think I’d be getting phone calls to pay me three-fifteen a sheep? Nah—I’d be doing the shit little jobs that nobody else wants.”

“Do you really think so, Hank? Because sometimes I want to say ‘up yours’ to whoever made the rules. I wanted to hold your hand in the pub tonight. I want you to come home with me where I can hold you all night, then make sure you get a decent breakfast in the morning before you leave. I want to have the right to call you whenever I feel like and not have to worry about who may overhear. I want to proclaim to the world ‘he is mine,’ and have them smile at me with jealous eyes because they want you all to themselves.”

I had to laugh at the last one. “Sometimes I want that too, but for now we have to do what we have to do. Now bugger off so I can go home. I have Tuesday off. Why don’t you swing by after work, and Jimmie’ll feed you.”

He squeezed my fingers and smiled sadly. “Goodnight, Hank. Good luck tomorrow. Ring me and tell me how you go, and I’ll see you Tuesday.”

Chapter 22

T
HE
FOLLOWING
evening I rang him as soon as I parked my car in the darkness of my shed. I was bone weary but ecstatic as well. I’d spent ten hours shearing between Daniel Akker and Joe Jackson Junior, shorn five hundred and eight sheep, been complimented by Jameson for how clean my fleeces came off (the shock of a compliment reverberated around the shed, since nobody had ever heard a nicety from the guy before), earned myself a nice payday, and best of all, found out that I had a pretty solid reputation.

My reputation was more important to me than anything. If I was found out, I would need that reputation to fall back on.

The phone rang twice in my ear before Elliot answered. “Hank! I heard the good news. Four eighteen in the first eight hours. The town was buzzing with the news this afternoon. I hear you beat some famous gun, Eckersley or something?”

I smiled. “Akker. Daniel Akker. Yeah—he did four twelve.”

“Well done, mate. So what was your end total?”

“Five-oh-eight.”

“Shit. I could probably do about five
in
eight hours. Where are you now?”

“Home.”

“Good. I was worried. Go and get some sleep, and I’ll see you tomorrow, buddy. ’Kay?”

I trudged inside and only managed half a meal before I crashed in bed.

Paul was coming across on Wednesday, and we were going to start cutting my crop, so Tuesday Murray and I spent the day servicing the tractor and getting things ready. To my surprise Elliot turned up early at five o’clock. I was weeding my veggies, and he smiled shyly at me and shrugged. “We had a couple of cancellations, so Gloria did some shuffling for me.”

I smiled my welcome, and he walked into my arms with an open kiss. The veggie patch was hidden from the sight of the house, so I took the opportunity to wander a bit with my hands. He was wearing black jeans today, so my dirty fingerprints wouldn’t show up on his butt. And what a nice butt he had. What nice lips too. And nice arms that fit nicely around me. And nice eyelashes. And nice…. Well, fuck. It was all nice.

But the fact that Neil was staring at us with dumbfounded eyes was not nice. The shock on his face was classic—if I’d been in the mood for laughing. One moment I was lost in the feel and sensation of kissing my boyfriend senseless, the next moment I was frozen inside. Dread, worry, surprise, fear, and resignation warred with each other as I tried to get my mouth to form words.

“Neil—”

Elliot spun around in alarm, and I saw Neil’s shattered gaze bounce between us. But somewhere in the depth of my soul, a newfound strength was emerging. Something that hadn’t been born a month ago, so it was still in its infancy, but was growing nonetheless. It was pride—pride in myself. A month ago I would’ve been immediately denying everything that Neil had seen, even if it were undeniable. Maybe in time to come, I would stand with a firm arm around my lover and proclaim the truth at the top of my voice. But for now I was unsure. I knew I couldn’t—and didn’t want to—contradict the conclusion that Neil had suddenly been thrust into, but I didn’t know if I was strong enough to weather the storm that was about to break over me.

The three of us stood motionless, each waiting for another to make the first move. It was Neil who broke first.

“Holy fuck!”

I guess that pretty much summed up the situation. I took a step toward him and was dismayed to see him take a step backward, moving away from me as if I were contagious.

“Neil, mate… I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

He looked at me in amazement. “What? Find out that you’re—? That you and Elliot have been—? Fuck, Hank. What the hell have you been smoking?”

I was resolute in my stance. I didn’t want people to know, but I was through with denying my feelings for Elliot existed.

“I haven’t been smoking anything, man. That Elliot and I have been—? Well, that’s none of your fucking business. I’m gay. I’ve always been gay. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He was startled by my statement but suddenly looked me in the eyes and seemed confused. His tone was hurt and quiet when he answered me. “Of course there’s nothing wrong with you being gay. I just didn’t know.”

Unexpectedly, it was now me who was on rocky ground.
There was nothing wrong with me being gay?
What happened to the condemnation and disgust I was positive he would feel? What happened to the anger and the retribution?

Neil was stuttering onward. “I mean, why the hell didn’t you say something? It’s like… like… I dunno… hiding who you are. It’s like lying to your friends, Hank. It’s like saying you go for the Eagles but you’re really an Essendon fan and you never told anyone. It’s like saying you were born in Australia but you’re really from New Zealand. Shit! You’re not a Kiwi as well are you?”

I was bemused to see that Neil was more horrified at finding out that I could possibly be a New Zealander, than the fact I was obviously gay.

“Nah, mate. Definitely born in Western Australia. Definitely an Eagles fan. But I hate to break it to you—Elliot goes for Essendon.”

Elliot gave a sad nod and sent Neil an apologetic smile. Neil’s eyes grew wider, and he looked heartbroken. “What? Jesus, Hank! Don’t you have any self-respect? I demand that you dump this guy, and we’ll petition the Health Department or something to send us someone decent.”

My mouth twisted into a wry smile as the fact sunk in that my friend was still my friend and that he was teasing me about my boyfriend with no hatred in his voice. I slung my arm around Elliot’s neck and yanked him close. “Sorry, Neil. No can do, mate.”

Neil shook his head in mock despair. “It’s always the quiet ones that you have to look out for.” He sighed and gazed at me with eyes tinged with sadness. “But seriously, why the hell did you guys think that you needed to keep it a secret? And let me tell you this is a fucking huge surprise to me. I know all the secrets around, but the two of you…? Now there have been rumors for ages about Elliot’s sexuality, ever since Shirley MacKenzie told everyone that you didn’t even blink an eye at her boobs when she asked for a breast exam.” Quackle went red in my arms, and I squeezed his shoulder in sympathy. Shirley’s
assets
were rather large and the center of many a testosterone-fueled conversation. “Now, I’m not asking for much here, Doc. But for the sake of every single, hot-blooded, heterosexual male in area, can you please make sure you get photos next time Shirley has her checkup? It’s not like I’m asking for a lot here.”

I patted Quackle on the back as he choked on air and spit. He hadn’t known Neil for as long as I had, and it needed a long-standing friendship to not choke on some of the things that came out of that boy’s mouth.

“But back to being serious, Hank. Where the hell do you get off not telling a single soul? Totally bad form, mate. I’m so disappointed in you. This is gonna take at least three free beers before I forgive you for this. Maybe even four.”

I laughed, relieved and disbelieving at the same time. “How can I refuse an offer like that?”

He smiled. “And for fuck’s sake—keep the sex behind closed doors! I had a fuckin’ heart attack when I walked around the shed. It’s not what my poor eyes were expecting to see. And you know that what’s been seen can never been unseen. Fuck! I need to see some boobs quickly in order to erase the image of you two smooching.”

Elliot raised his eyebrows. “Well, has it occurred to you that if I am off work and visiting Hank, then Gloria also has the evening off?”

Neil’s face flattened in surprise. “Shit! Why the fuck are you still talking to me? This may have been mentioned to a poor, desperate guy about ten minutes ago?” He spun and walked back to his car so quickly that I had to run to keep up.

“Neil? Neil! Before you go and look at some boobs, do you mind telling me why you came over?”

He didn’t stop, just got in his car and started the engine.

“Neil!” I yelled in exasperation.

He wound the window down and told me, “Boobs, Hank! Boobs! I know
now
that you don’t understand, but a straight man has needs. I’ll tell you another day that my dad is interested in a couple of your rams.”

My mouth turned up at the corners. “He is?”

“Yeah, mate. He trusts you and says he needs three or four. So I need you to pick some out and have them ready for the last week of November when I’m going up to see him.”