Down Outback Roads (13 page)

‘Yuck, horse snot,’ Braye said, wiping his cheek, his laughter belying his disgust.

Kree clipped the lead rope onto Banjo’s halter and led the stock horse through a smaller side gate to the stables. She tied him to the hitching rail and set about brushing his glossy brown coat. She breathed in the familiar horse scent that had been missing from her adult life. She’d spent many long, summer days exploring the Colorado foothills and following the wild elk on her precious paint pony, Monty. Nowadays, she’d take an occasional horse trek in the mountains with Seth or when a city friend came to stay. When she returned home to Elk Falls, she’d have to get serious about finding the time to have a horse again.

The boys came to help brush Banjo. The bay sighed in pleasure, lowered his head and closed his eyes. Darby and Braye then helped Kree put on his bridle, saddlecloth and saddle. As Kree lifted and gently pulled Banjo’s right front leg to make sure the girth of the saddle didn’t pinch, a smiling Tish appeared.

It mightn’t sit right, deceiving Ewan and roping Travis into her plan, but the happy cuddle Tish gave Darby and Braye reassured Kree she’d done the right thing. Tish and the boys belonged in the bush with Ewan. And, fingers crossed, one day with Travis, too.

‘Can’t we go with Kree?’ Braye asked, tugging at his mother’s hand. She ruffled his unruly hair. ‘Not today. Kree needs to get to know Banjo and then maybe another day you
can all go for a ride. Now sowing is almost over, Ewan might even ride Rocket and you could take Kree to the waterhole where you camp and fish.’

As if privy to their conversation, Rocket neighed. Not liking being alone, he cantered up and down the horse paddock’s fence. From over in the smaller pony paddock behind the stables, a pony answered with a shrill neigh.

Tish laughed. ‘It seems everyone wants to go. How about we let Kree head off and then we saddle Holly and Buzz for a ride around the garden?’

Both boys rushed to hug Kree and then tore off to the tack room where the ponies’ lead ropes hung on the wall.

Tish turned to Kree, her eyes moist. ‘Thanks again for everything.’

‘Don’t mention it. I’m glad to help in some way,’ Kree replied, her own eyes misting. ‘I know Travis is adamant records be kept and the correct interest be paid, but please tell him there’s no time limit on the loan being paid out.’

‘Okay. I’ll remind him.’

Kree untied Banjo and patted her jeans pocket to check she had the Tylers’ house keys and phone.

‘You’ll have phone reception a little of the way,’ Tish said, ‘but if anything goes wrong, Ewan will be on UHF channel 4. Did Maureen show you where their UHF is and how to use it?’

‘Yes, it’s beside the lambing kit in the kitchen with a set of instructions. She made sure whatever I need is handy, along with a how-to guide.’

‘Great. You’ll pass the paddock Ewan is sowing before you reach the double gates, so he won’t be far away if you need him.’

Kree took hold of her stirrup, and after two hops managed to swing into the saddle. She ignored the twinge of her bruised knee and collected the thin and supple leather reins. Banjo moved restlessly beneath her and she soothed him with some calm words and a pat on his muscled neck. It was so good to be back in the saddle again.

She smiled at Tish as Banjo walked forward. ‘Thanks, that’s good to know. But there’s no need to worry. I’m sure everything will be fine.’

‘Finished sowing, and just in time,’ Ewan said to Whiskey as the tractor completed the final row. The kelpie thumped his tail on the floor of the cabin where he’d been asleep. A cold front was coming in. Already the wind had picked up and gunmetal-grey clouds were rolling across the sky. With any luck, tomorrow’s predicted rain would fall right over his freshly sown paddocks.

Perhaps this year, Marellen would grow a bumper crop. Perhaps this year, the bad luck plaguing the Mackenzies since they’d taken over the property a decade ago would end. Perhaps this year, his belief that Marellen mourned for the original family, whose generations hadn’t lived within its walls, would be proved wrong. He sighed. For Tish and the boys’ sake, he desperately hoped so.

He raised his hands above his head to stretch. Two hours of sleep had a way of making a man feel one hundred. He slowly lowered his stiff arms. He had no one to blame but himself. He’d lain awake and stared at the ceiling most of the night. The verdict was in. When it came to Kree, he was a lost cause.
His self-control had deserted him. What last night had shown him was that he responded to her in a way he never had to a woman before. He had to stop fighting the pull she wielded on him and admit defeat. He was never going to break free.

But as he’d gazed into her blue eyes when she’d taken his hand in the kitchen, it had been as though he was looking at his own reflection in the water of a cattle trough. He’d seen need and yearning but also fear and vulnerability. For all her self-containment, the connection that drew them together scared the hell out of her, too. The tremble of her fingers in his had delivered a mental head slap. He couldn’t prove her fears right. He couldn’t hurt her by starting something that would only lead to heartbreak. The worlds they came from were oceans apart and didn’t even share the same hemisphere.

The UHF crackled into life beside him. Kree’s American voice asked, ‘Ewan, are you on channel?’

He picked up the handpiece. Maureen’s detailed instructions ensured Kree had the UHF jargon down pat. He pressed the handpiece button. ‘Yes, I’m here, Kree. Everything okay?’

Static filled the pause between them. ‘There’s a ewe that could be having trouble lambing. Maureen left a check list of things to watch for when a ewe lambs and this one has been lying there for over an hour.’

‘I’ll head over now. Is there a lambing kit handy somewhere?’

‘Yes, on the kitchen bench beside the UHF.’

‘Perfect. Grab the kit and I’ll meet you in the lambing paddock.’

‘Okay, see you then. And, Ewan … thanks. I’ll stop asking for help soon, I promise.’

‘It’s fine, Kree. That’s what we do in the bush, we help each other.’

Ewan turned off the track towards the pasture-rich lambing paddock and spotted Kree sitting on the steel gate. Head bare, the wind blew her glossy hair around her face. As she caught sight of him, she smiled a relieved and beautiful smile. He weathered the jolt in his chest. She climbed off the gate, waved him through, and then closed it behind him.

Ewan drove into the paddock and spied the prone ewe to the left of a gnarled gum tree. The quick rise and fall of her flanks confirmed she was in trouble. Hand fed during the drought, this ewe – and her lamb – represented Maureen and Don’s past, as well as their future.

Ewan slowed to a stop at a safe distance away, discarded his hat, and stepped out into the wind. He secured Whiskey to the chain in the ute tray-back.

‘Sit tight, Whisk. I don’t want you frightening the ewe.’

The kelpie lay down, rested his head on his paws, and closed his eyes. Ewan grasped the handle of the large, blue water container beside Whiskey and lifted it from the ute.

‘Thanks again for coming,’ Kree said as he approached.

‘No problems. You did the right thing calling. The ewe’s started lambing and the water bag has ruptured, but now there’s no sign of the lamb.’

A horse whinny drifted from the direction of the house.

‘Banjo’s not happy,’ Kree said. ‘I unsaddled him and put him in the cattle yard with some water, but I don’t think he likes his temporary home.’

‘He’ll be fine and he won’t be there long.’ He glanced at the ewe. ‘How did your knee go riding?’

‘Knee’s fine but tonight my butt will be sore. I haven’t ridden in ages.’

He fought to keep his attention on the sheep and not on the woman beside him, whose feminine curves filled out her fitted denim in all the right places.

‘So, what do you want me to do?’ she asked as they stopped at the oblong bucket containing the lambing kit she’d brought from the house.

‘There isn’t anything for the moment.’ Ewan placed the water container beside the bucket. ‘I’ll clean up and take a look.’ He bent to take out the fitted tray from the bucket to inspect the items below. Thankfully, the Tylers’ lambing kit was well stocked with everything he’d need, from a soft lambing rope to an emery board for when a lamb’s sharp tooth caused a ewe to not allow it to feed.

‘I also put in the bottle of penicillin Maureen keeps in the fridge, which she wrote on her list not to forget.’

‘Thanks.’ Ewan removed his watch and dropped it into the lambing kit before rolling his navy shirtsleeves past his elbow. He rifled through the bucket and pulled out a hand towel, latex gloves, a zip-locked bag of soap and a bottle of lubricant. As he scrubbed his hands and forearms with wet soap, Kree hefted the water container off the ground. She turned on the plastic tap and he washed his arms clean. He then pulled on the long, latex gloves and covered his right glove in lubricant.

‘Easy, girl,’ he said quietly as he neared the ewe and she lifted her head in concern. ‘I just want to see what’s going on. I’m not going to hurt you.’

Kneeling, he carefully checked the presentation of the lamb. Kree moved closer, bringing the lambing kit and water container with her.

‘I can feel a head,’ he said, keeping his voice low and calm, ‘and one hoof, but the other leg is tucked behind the lamb’s ear.’

‘That’s not good?’ Kree asked, matching his soothing tone.

‘No, but if I can push the lamb in a little, I’ll try to bring the leg forward.’

‘Easy, girl,’ he murmured again as the ewe lifted her head. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

He felt his way past the lamb’s head and shoulder until he found the firm shape of a hoof. He gently drew it forward and released his held breath as the leg slowly moved into the correct position. Ewan glanced across at Kree.

Lambs might look all cute, white and fluffy when they were a day old, but lambing itself was a messy experience. The membranous string, all that remained from the lamb’s water bag, lay to the ewe’s left, and fluid from his internal examination coated his glove. To a city-girl, or someone unused to the reality of farm life, Ewan helping the ewe to lamb might prove confronting. But as Kree’s worried eyes met his, he saw no squeamishness.

‘Will the lamb be all right?’

‘I hope so. Now the feet are beside the lamb’s nose it’s a matter of the ewe being strong enough to push it out. Next contraction, I’ll help.’

When the ewe strained, he gently pulled downward on the lamb’s feet. For a second, nothing happened and then, in a rush, the lamb slid onto the ground.

Ewan quickly wiped the lamb’s mouth and nose to clear yellow mucus and birth fluids from its airways. But the lamb didn’t breathe. Ewan opened a tiny eyelid and softly touched the corner of its eye. The lamb blinked and then the delicate nostrils moved. Beside him, the ewe took two attempts to stagger to her feet. Ewan edged away from them both, but as the ewe staggered forward, she appeared oblivious to his
presence. She sniffed at her baby and began licking the lamb clean.

‘Good girl,’ Ewan said with a smile. Despite the difficult lambing, the ewe had no trouble bonding with her daughter. ‘We’re almost done, I’ll check you’re not having twins and then leave you in peace.’

After a quick confirmation the ewe wasn’t expecting more than one lamb, Ewan stood. He pulled off the latex gloves that had kept his hands and forearms clean and watched the lamb attempt to co-ordinate its fragile limbs.

‘I’ll spray some antiseptic spray on the lamb’s navel to stop infection and also give the ewe a shot of penicillin. Then, after the lamb’s had a good drink of colostrum and we know the placenta has passed from the ewe, our job’s done.’

Kree didn’t reply. He glanced towards her and forgot all about the ewe and lamb.

Kree didn’t make a sound. But from the wet sheen on her cheeks and the anguished press of her mouth, he knew she was crying.

Kree abandoned the last vestiges of her pride and dashed a hand across her eyes. There was no point hiding her despair. Even without looking directly at Ewan, she knew his intent eyes remained fixed on her. She turned away, biting her lip.

‘Kree? What’s wrong?’ Ewan said from close behind her, his deep and comforting tone the same he’d used to reassure the distressed ewe.

His concern only made her tears flow faster. All the time they’d looked for Seth she’d refused to cry. But the mother ewe’s unconditional love for her lamb had snapped the frayed
constraints on her self-control. Now that her emotional flood-gates had burst open, she couldn’t stem the flow.

‘Kree, talk to me.’

She stayed silent and swiped away the windblown strands of hair stuck to her damp cheeks. She couldn’t speak but her rigid back would be enough to convey she wanted to be left alone. She needed a moment to get herself together. Of anyone, Ewan was the single person she had to stay composed around.

She pressed her fingers over her eyes as though the simple action would suppress the wave of emotion crashing over her. Her shoulders shook with the force of her grief and the need to reinstate control. What was wrong with her? She
never
lost it.

Ewan’s gentle hand clasped her nape. She stiffened. Dammit. He hadn’t heeded her silent plea. She wasn’t even close to restoring her self-possession.
Walk away
. But even as the idea formed, the warmth of his touch curled inside her like wisps of smoke, comforting, calming and reassuring. She relaxed and made no protest when he drew her close and enfolded her within the circle of his arms.

The scent of sunshine, dust and diesel surrounded her. She wound her arms around his torso and laid her cheek against his solid strength. His chin rested on the top of her head. Just like at the command post when he’d last held her, the world receded until there was no pain. No death. No loss.

Slowly her sobs subsided and her ragged breathing synchronised to the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest. The sadness that had splintered her control ebbed. Reality returned. The wind chilled the tear-tracks on her face. A cockatoo screeched as it flew overhead. Her fingertips registered the smooth, muscled contours beneath Ewan’s shirt.

She lifted her head, eased her grip on his broad back and pulled away.

‘Kree?’ The single word contained a host of unspoken questions.

Not meeting his eyes, she shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Desperate for a distraction, she repacked the lambing kit.

‘What’s upset you? I’ve never seen you cry, not even when we were searching for Seth.’

She swallowed past the ache sealing her throat. ‘It’s nothing.’

As the little lamb struggled to her knees, Kree stepped forward, wanting to help but knowing she shouldn’t. The lamb’s back legs wobbled and she fell to the ground.

Ewan stood beside Kree, his shoulder touching hers.

‘She’ll be okay,’ he said, voice husky. ‘It will take a few goes to get on her feet.’

She knew she should move away, but the warmth and comfort of his arm against hers held her still. Her sobs may have stopped, but her tears continued to fall on the inside.

‘I miss my mother.’ Kree flinched as the words slipped uncensored from her mouth. Ewan’s fingers curled around hers, but he didn’t speak or turn her way.

‘One of the reasons I wanted to farm-sit Berridale was because it will soon be the eighteenth anniversary of her death. I didn’t want to be home.’

‘I can understand that.’ Empathy deepened his words. ‘This Christmas, it will be eleven years since my mother lost her fight with cancer.’