Inherit the Sky (Lang Downs 1 ) (10 page)

“So I guess I should figure out which room I’m going to use,” he muttered. “Or maybe I should tell Kami I’m here first. I don’t want him coming after me with a cleaver because he hears strange sounds in the house.”
Deciding that was the wiser course of action, he wandered toward the back of the house in search of the kitchen. He found it, finally, at the end of what was obviously an addition to the original structure, a long, narrow hallway that opened out into a huge industrial kitchen. “Hello?” Caine called, peeking inside.“Kami?”
“What do you want?”
“I’m Caine Neiheisel, Michael’s—”
“I know who you are,” the cook interrupted, stepping into sight from the pantry, his arms full of potatoes. His pitch-black skin was wrinkled around the eyes, like he’d spent too many days squinting in the sun, although he didn’t look that much older than Caine himself other than that.“I asked what you wanted.”
“Just to let you know I’d arrived,” Caine said, “and to ask if there was a room I should use.”
“Any room but this one,” Kami said, “and I knew you were here. I heard the door slam outside.”
“Okay, then,” Caine said, not sure how to act in the face of the apparent hostility. “I’ll let you finish cooking. I’m going to unpack if you need me.”
“What would I need you for?” Kami muttered, dumping the potatoes in the sink and beginning to scrub them.
Caine didn’t have an answer for that, so he retreated, leaving the cook to his task. Regaining the living room, he peeked down the other halls and through the other doors, taking stock of the different rooms.
In addition to the living room, which dominated the first floor, he found a dining room and a small, modern office with a relatively new computer and printer. Climbing the stairs, he counted four bedrooms including Uncle Michael’s. The closet in the master bedroom was as empty as the others, but Caine couldn’t bring himself to invade Uncle Michael’s space. He chose one of the smaller bedrooms instead.

Deciding the first order of business was to treat his hand, which had started throbbing again, Caine rummaged in the bathroom cabinets until he found everything he needed. The hydrogen peroxide stung even worse than the alcohol as it bubbled deep in his hand. Caine made himself clean it three times before putting more antibiotic ointment on it and covering it again. His jaw hurt from clenching it so tightly by the time he was done, but he was at least relatively certain it was clean. He went back downstairs and carried his bags up, then flopped on the bed and stared at them, trying to work up the will to unpack.
Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep fully dressed.

S
HOUTS from outside roused Caine from his dozing. He blinked a couple of times before remembering where he was. Sitting up, he scrubbed at his face, wincing when the movement put pressure on his injured hand. He glanced around for a clock. Five thirty. He had time before dinner still. He could start unpacking and still have time for a shower. He didn’t want their first impression of him to be half-muddled from sleep. He was starving, but after the conversation with Kami before his nap, he decided against looking for a snack now. He’d wait it out until dinner.

He slid his new boots off, rubbing at his ankles. The tight elastic had chafed even through his socks. Maybe he’d wear his tennis shoes to dinner instead of his boots. It would be one more thing setting him apart, but it had to be better than rubbing blisters on his ankles so badly that he couldn’t wear his boots tomorrow when he went out to work with the others.

He hoped Macklin’s dismissal of him this afternoon hadn’t been a sign of how the foreman intended to treat him in the future. If so, they’d be having words again before long. Caine refused to be pushed aside like he had nothing to contribute to the station. He had a pair of hands and a level head. He could learn everything else.

“Stop jumping to conclusions,” Caine scolded himself. “For all you know, he was eager to get back to his loved ones. You didn’t even ask if he had a family on the station. He could have been eager to see his wife and kids.”

Somehow Caine didn’t think that was the explanation, but it gave him a plausible excuse for Macklin’s dismissal. He spent the next hour sorting his clothes on the bed in his new room: winter clothes for work, winter clothes for around the house, summer clothes for work, summer clothes for around the house. If the piles were disproportionate toward clothes for around the house, Caine was nonetheless pleased to see he had clothes in all four piles. His T-shirts might not last more than a single summer, but he did have clothes he could work in when the weather was too warm for the long-sleeved shirts he’d bought in Boorowa the day before. He put the work clothes in the drawers of the big chest and hung the rest of his winter clothes in the armoire. He stuffed the summer clothes back in a suitcase and shoved it under his bed.He’d look for an attic or something later, but that would do for now. Grabbing his toiletries kit, he went to get ready for dinner.

B
Y THE time Caine finished his shower, the smell of dinner permeated the house, reminding his stomach he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. It rumbled loudly as he dressed and went downstairs. “Can I help?” he asked from the doorway to the kitchen. “I can carry stuff if nothing else.”

“Take that tray,” Kami said, not looking up. “The big white one. Fill it withbread.”
Caine took the tray Kami had indicated from the rack where it waited and set it on the counter. “Where is the bread?”
“In the oven,” Kami snapped as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.
Caine suppressed another sigh at Australian men and their manners. He found a hot pad and opened the oven, pulling out trays of rolls. He put them on the counter to cool while he washed his hands so he could separate them and fill the tray as Kami had directed.
“You ever work in a kitchen before?” Kami asked as Caine worked.
“Only my m-mother’s,” Caine replied honestly.
Kami harrumphed but then barked another order at Caine, so Caine figured he hadn’t been totally dismissed.
“What are you doing in here? I thought I told you not to disturb Kami.” Macklin’s voice cracked through the room.
“He’s helping me,” Kami snapped before Caine could protest the accusation. “He offered, which is more than most of your no-good jackaroos have ever done.”
“Don’t take that tone with me, Kami,” Macklin said, but Caine noticed Kami didn’t look at all cowed. “I specifically told him to leave you alone so dinner wouldn’t be delayed.”
“And he didn’t bother me one bit,” Kami replied. “He came down here ten minutes ago and asked if he could help. I said yes. Now, since
you’re
disturbing me, you can carry that platter of bread out to the canteen for the men. Caine and I will be along with the rest of dinner in a minute.”
“Th-thank you for s-s-standing up for me,” Caine said when Macklin had left. “I d-don’t think he likes me very much.”
“I didn’t say I liked you,” Kami replied, but his eyes twinkled as he spoke. “I said you helped me. I’ll decide if I like you once I get to know you.”
“That’s fair,” Caine said.“So what else do we need to do?”
They got dinner ready to serve, heaping trays of meat and potatoes to go along with the bread Macklin had already carried out. The canteen where the hands ate was crowded, but not with fifty or more people like Caine had expected after his conversation with Macklin earlier in the day.
“This isn’t everyone on the station, is it?” Caine asked, taking an empty seat next to Macklin because he didn’t know anyone else.
“Some of the men spend the night out with the sheep,” Macklin reminded him. “Others eat with their families. No one is required to eat here.”
“You’re taking everything I say the wrong way again,” Caine said.“I’m just trying to understand the way things work.”
“Look,” Macklin said, pushing back from the table. “I know you want to help, but there’s really not a lot you can do. Kami apparently likes you so why don’t you help him out in the kitchen until you get your bearings? Once things aren’t quite so strange to you, you can think about finding some other things to do too.”
Caine stared in open-mouthed shock as Macklin grabbed his plate and left the bunkhouse.
“They found three dead sheep this morning. Nobody knows what happened to them.”
Caine spun around to face the kid who had plunked his plate down on the other side of the table. If he had to guess, he’d put the boy’s age at twelve or thirteen, older than the kids they’d seen running around earlier, but still only barely into adolescence. He quibbled for a moment about pumping the kid for information, but no one else seemed willing to talk to him.“Is that typical?”
The boy shrugged. “It happens, but not usually three at once. Mr. Armstrong was all put out about it.”
That explained Macklin’s temper. “I’m Caine,” he said, offering his hand.
“I know who you are,” the kid said, shaking it. “Everybody’s buzzing with news of the blow-in. I’m Jason. My dad’s one of the mechanics.”
“Nice to meet you, Jason,” Caine said. “Thanks for taking pity on me.”
“It’s not pity,” Jason replied. “I want to hear about America. I love the way Yanks talk.”
Caine chuckled. His nationality might be a strike against him with the adults, but maybe he could use it to his advantage with the kids. “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll answer all your questions about America if you’ll answer my questions about the outback.”
“Really? My dad said you wouldn’t have time for all my questions and I shouldn’t bother you and really?”
“Really,” Caine promised, “as long as you return the favor.”
“Deal,” Jason said. “Finish your tucker so I can show you around.”
Caine finished the meal, leaving his plate with the others but stopping to thank Kami for the food. Kami waved him away with a dishtowel. When they were outside, Jason whistled softly and a black, gray, and white dog came trotting up. “This is Polly. She’s an Australian shepherd. She’s still too young to work with the sheep, but she’s learning.”
“May I pet her?” Caine asked, stretching his hand out for Polly to sniff.
The dog sniffed at his fingers, then looked at Jason, obviously waiting for his approval. Jason nodded and gestured her forward with his hand. That was the signal she had been waiting for, because she slid her head beneath Caine’s hand and rested her jowl against his thigh. “She likes you.She’s a good judge of people.”
Caine smiled at Jason and knelt down to scratch Polly’s ears a little more. Jason had said she was young, but she wasn’t a small dog by any means. Her shoulder was nearly mid-thigh on him. “I’m glad to know I passed her test.” He had a feeling there would be a lot of tests over the subsequent few months.
“So tell me about the station,” Caine asked, looking up at Jason. “Were you born here?”
“No, I was born in Melbourne,” Jason said, “but I came here when I was two. Dad lost his job in Melbourne and hired on here. Mum helps Kami out with the baking sometimes, when he’ll let another person in his kitchen, and she helps with some of the cleaning in the bunkhouses. The jillaroos are okay, but some of the jackaroos don’t take care of anything unless you make them.” Jason leaned forward conspiratorially. “They don’t get invited back next summer and have to go work for Mr. Taylor instead, but don’t tell Mr. Armstrong I said that. He doesn’t want people saying bad stuff about Taylor Peak even if it’s true.”
“It’ll be our secret,” Caine promised, but it wasn’t news to him. Even without anyone saying anything, he had seen the difference between the two stations, and that was without the benefit of any knowledge about what might be going on beneath the surface. “So I’ve seen the main house, but that’s the only building I’ve been in yet. Think I could get a tour?”
“Sure,” Jason said. “Come on, Polly.”
Polly moved obediently to Jason’s side. “That’s the bunkhouse for the girls,” Jason said with a wave of his hand toward the other side of the valley. “I’m not allowed to go over there without Mum. I think she’s afraid I’ll see something I shouldn’t. Like I care about girls. I’d rather teach Polly about sheep. Where are you from in America?”
“I’m from Cincinnati originally,” Caine said as they walked down the gravel road toward the collection of buildings at the far end of the valley, “but I lived in Philadelphia b-b-before I came here.”
“I’ve never heard of Cincinnati,” Jason said, “but Philadelphia, that’s American Revolution stuff, right?”
“It is,” Caine agreed. “The Continental Congress, the Liberty Bell, the first presidential residence, although that’s no longer standing, but they have this display where you can see what the floor plan was. It was really small by modern standards. So what are those buildings?” He pointed to a series of low-roofed sheds.
“Those are the pens we use for shearing and breeding and anything else we need to confine the sheep for,” Jason explained. “They’re empty right now. Dad says now that Mr. Armstrong is back with you, we’ll start breeding in a few days.”
“Why wait for me?” Caine asked.“I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Dad said it was in case you decided to sell the station out from under us,” Jason replied. “If you did, there was no reason to breed the ewes because they might all be going to slaughter anyway. If you didn’t, waiting a few days wouldn’t hurt.”
Caine turned to face Jason, bending a little so he could look the boy directly in the eyes. “I d-d-don’t know what the future will bring, but I p-p-promise I will n-never sell the station out from under everyone. If it ever happens, it will be b-b-because everyone agrees it’s what has to happen.”
“You stutter when you get nervous or serious or stuff, don’t you?” Jason asked.
“Yes,” Caine said, not entirely sure how he felt about Jason’s lack of reaction to his declaration.
“No worries, mate,” Jason said. “It doesn’t bother me.”
Caine felt a surge of ridiculous relief at hearing Jason’s casual acceptance. He doubted everyone would be as understanding, but with his new friend, he wouldn’t have to worry about feeling self-conscious if he stuttered a bit. “Can we go inside them?”
“They stink,” Jason said, “but we can go in.”
Caine followed Jason across the slightly uneven ground and up the rise to the closest of the pens. The kid was right about the smell, but Caine figured he’d better learn to live with it. He was a sheep farmer now, and that meant dealing with the mess. “So how does it work?” he asked when they stepped inside and he could see the various smaller enclosures within the larger building.
“Breeding or shearing?” Jason asked.
“Breeding,” Caine said. “That’s what I’ll have to deal with first.”
“Breeding’s easy,” Jason said. “Bring the ewes in when they go into heat, leave them here with a ram for a few days, and then switch them out for the next batch. If it doesn’t take this cycle, try again next time.Shearing is the hard work.”
“I’ve seen pictures of shearing,” Caine said. “I’m not looking forward to that.”
“I like it,” Jason insisted. “It’s the start of the new season when all the new jackaroos come, and we have a big barbie when it’s done. It’s a regular holiday around here when the last sheep leaves the pen.”
“Jason, your mother’s looking for you.”
Caine and Jason turned to see Macklin silhouetted against the door to the sheep pen. “I’m sorry you had to come looking for me, Mr. Armstrong,” Jason said, his awe of the foreman clear in his voice. “I was just showing Caine—that is, Mr. Neiheisel—around a bit.”
“I told you to call me Caine,” Caine said, speaking to Jason but making sure his voice was loud enough to carry to Macklin. He didn’t want Jason getting in trouble for something Caine had allowed. “I don’t mind.”
“Thank you, Caine,” Jason said. “I’ll see you tomorrow after I finish my schoolwork. I have history tomorrow.”
“Good luck with that,” Caine replied. “If you have to do economics, I can help you with that, but I was never very good at history.”
Jason hurried out of the building, leaving Caine and Macklin alone. “He seems like a good kid.”
“Yes, he is,” Macklin agreed. He didn’t seem in any hurry to leave, so Caine joined him at the door. “Economics?”
“I studied b-business in college,” Caine explained, the sudden surge of attraction he felt this close to Macklin tying his tongue. “For all the g-g-good it did me.”
“You never know when it might come in useful,” Macklin said, starting toward the collection of small houses near the large bunkhouse. Caine wondered what brought about the sudden improvement in Macklin’s attitude, but he decided not to question his good fortune. He’d take the cordiality when he could get it.
Caine fell in step beside him, not wanting the conversation to end. “Jason mentioned something about some dead animals. Do we need to be worried?”
“Don’t know yet,” Macklin said. “We couldn’t tell what happened to them.”
“What might have happened to them?” Caine asked.“Disease, old age, some kind of predator? Something else?”
“It probably wasn’t disease or old age,” Macklin said. “We cull the flock in the spring and autumn and only keep the healthy ewes. Once they reach a certain age, they don’t breed well and their wool loses its luster, neither of which is profitable for us. One sheep might have broken a leg in a hole or succumbed to a snakebite, although that’s rarer, but not three in the same pasture in the same day. By the time the men found them, they were pretty picked over by feral dogs and crows, so we couldn’t tell if a predator got them.”
They reached one of the smaller houses, and Macklin stepped up onto the veranda. “Do you want a beer?”
“Sure,” Caine said, stepping onto the veranda as well. Macklin’s mercurial moods confused him, but since the foreman seemed willing to talk, Caine went along with it. A beer might even make the man positively garrulous. “It’s a nice evening. We could sit out here and drink it, and you could tell me what we need to do next as far as the sheep are concerned. I may not be able to help, but I really do want to know what’s going on.”
“I’ve got Tooheys and Carlton Cold,” Macklin offered. “Have a seat.”
“Tooheys is fine,” Caine said, taking a seat on one of the two carved wooden chairs. While Macklin disappeared inside, Caine ran his hand along the grain of the wood, marveling at how smooth it was except where the knots still stuck out. He was surprised how comfortable it was for something so rustic.
“Cheers,” Macklin said, handing Caine his beer and tapping the bottles together.
“Cheers,” Caine replied, taking a sip of the beer. “So what do we do about the sheep you found?”
“There’s nothing to do,” Macklin said. “We buried the carcasses because there wasn’t anything else to do with them.”
“So if a predator got them, what’s the next step?” Caine asked.
“It depends on what the predator was,” Macklin said. “Eagles usually don’t bother the full-grown sheep, but a pair of dingoes might. If that’s the case, we increase the number of men and dogs out with the sheep and hope to scare them off. If it’s feral pigs, we go hunting and have pork to tide us through winter.”
“And if it was something else?” Caine asked.
“There isn’t really anything else,” Macklin said. “We’ve got our share of nasties in Australia—snakes and crocs and spiders and the like—but the crocs aren’t around here, and the snakes don’t bother the sheep because the sheep are too big to eat. I’d planned to give the flocks another couple of weeks before I brought them in closer for the winter to save our grass as long as possible, but if something is out there hunting sheep, we may not have a choice.”
“If you have to bring them down early, what does that mean for the station?” Caine asked. “Do we have to supplement their feed over the winter?”
“We always have to supplement some,” Macklin said, “but we try to keep it to a minimum. Hay gets expensive and more years than not, we run close to the line as it is. Adding extra weeks to that could put us in the red. Not exactly the impression I wanted to give your mum the first quarter after she took over.”