Inherit the Sky (Lang Downs 1 ) (16 page)

“No, he never told me,” Caine said. “I don’t even remember him mentioning that name.Did everyone know?”
“It wasn’t something anybody spoke of, but I can’t imagine that they didn’t know,” Macklin said. “The station wasn’t as big then, so there wasn’t a separate foreman’s house, just the big house and the bunkhouse. Donald and Michael lived here, the rest of the men lived in the bunkhouse. By the time the station grew big enough to build the extra houses, Donald was ill, and so the explanation was that Donald needed more space and care than the bunkhouse could provide. Most of the men here now arrived after Donald’s death. I’ve never asked them if they knew. Like I said, it’s not something people talk about.”
“So the men don’t know about you either, then, do they?” Caine asked.
“It’s not something people talk about,” Macklin repeated. “There was no reason to tell them. I don’t have someone like Donald.” “You could.”
“You really want to give Taylor more ammunition for his attacks on you, pup?” Macklin asked.
“I don’t give a damn about Taylor,” Caine replied. “I have to live my life.We could be good together, Macklin.”
Macklin’s face tightened. “I already told you it couldn’t work.”
“No, you told me you were afraid to try because it might go wrong,” Caine insisted. “It might go wrong. There are no guarantees, but it might go right. Uncle Michael and Donald made it work. Maybe we could too.”
“Bloody hell, you’re tenacious, pup,” Macklin said. “This is a bad idea.”
“It’s not a bad idea,” Caine said, approaching Macklin again and resting his hand on the other man’s forearm.“Take a chance on me, Macklin. Let me prove to you I’m worth it.”
“I’ll think about it,” Macklin conceded.
That was enough for Caine. As long as Macklin was thinking about it, Caine could keep wearing away the foreman’s resistance.

T
HE database that held the breeding records was simple in its layout but incredibly complex in the amount of information it held. Macklin had computerized the records back to Lang Downs’s inception so that they could trace every sheep back generations. Caine had taken one look at it and handed the computer back to Macklin.

“Each sheep has an ear tag,” Macklin explained. “We tag them in lots so a particular range of numbers all came from the same ram. Then it’s a question of checking those numbers against the database to make sure we don’t put them in with their sire this year. It takes time to check, but it keeps the bloodlines safe for future breeding and for selling the lambs for food.”

“We have it on a PDA,” Macklin said. “The sheep come in, we check the number against the database, and route them accordingly.”
“There are a lot of things I still don’t know how to do,” Caine said, “but surely I can figure that out.”
“It’s not hard,” Macklin agreed. “I’m sure you can handle it.”
It was boring, cold, dirty work, standing in the fields as the men brought the mob in a few sheep at a time. They’d call out the number from the ear tag, Caine would look it up and identify the sire, and Macklin would order the ewe into one pen or another according to a system Caine still hadn’t figured out.

Caine had guzzled two thermoses of coffee by lunchtime, and he was still frozen through. The other men were moving, herding the sheep while Caine stood still at the center of the enclosures and waited for the men to come to him.
As they headed in to lunch, he sought out Macklin. “Can I sswitch with someone after lunch? I’m f-f-freezing, standing on one pplace the whole time. Jason has b-been t-teaching me to work with the d-dogs.”
“Are you stuttering because you’re cold or because you’re really that worried I’ll say no?”
“C-cold,” Caine said, glad it was the truth. Macklin still made him nervous at times, but not where the station was concerned. He might say no, but Caine had come to trust that Macklin wouldn’t automatically refuse him as a blow-in.
“Stick with Neil,” Macklin decided, handing Caine more coffee. “I’ll see if Jason wants to take your job. I told him he could help this afternoon if he finished his lessons this morning.”
“He’ll want to work with P-polly,” Caine said. “I don’t want to keep him from helping.”
“He’s a hard worker and Polly’s learning fast,” Macklin replied, “but the first lesson any jackaroo has to learn is that you do the job you’re assigned. Even if it’s shoveling shit, and there will be plenty of that to do this winter, so don’t you forget it either.”
The twinkle in Macklin’s eye was the only clue he was teasing Caine, but Caine saw it and smiled. “Yes, sir, Mr. Armstrong, sir. Whatever job I’m assigned.”
“Get some tucker,” Macklin chided with a shake of his head and a shove in the direction of the food Kami had prepared. “You’ll need it if you’re going to herd sheep this afternoon.”
Jason came in while Caine was eating, obviously excited about the afternoon. His face fell a little after he talked to Macklin, but he nodded and came to sit with Caine. “Mr. Armstrong says you’re going to help with the sheep this afternoon. You should take Polly with you. You know her better than any of the other dogs.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Caine asked. “She’s your dog.”

“I’d rather be helping too, but Mr. Armstrong reminded me that everybody is helping even if they aren’t herding the sheep themselves. Even Kami, who isn’t anywhere near the pens, helps.”
“He certainly does,” Caine agreed. “I’d have a lot harder time going back outside if he hadn’t filled me up with that chicken curry.”
“My favorite is his pad thai,” Jason said, “but he doesn’t make that as often in winter. In the winter, he does stews and curries and thick sauces that stay with you and helpkeep you warm.”
“I’m sure his pad thai is as good as everything else, but I’m glad for the curry. I can feel my toes again finally.”
“Wear an extra pair of socks,” Jason said.
“I’m wearing two already,” Caine replied. “Next time I’m in Boorowa, I’m going to look for fleece-lined boots.”
“Good luck with that,” Jason said. “Eat fast. Mr. Armstrong is already heading back outside.You don’t want to make him wait.”
Caine used the naan to wipe the last of the curry from his plate and hurried outside after Macklin. “Come on, Caine,” Neil called when Caine reached where the other men waited. “Let’s get started.”
Neil whistled for his dog, a grizzled old shepherd Caine didn’t know. Caine turned to look for Polly when Jason came running up. “Go with Caine, girl.”
“Come on, Polly,” Caine called. “Let’s show these jackaroos what a couple of pups can do.”
The afternoon passed far more quickly than the morning, with constantly moving after the sheep, cutting them off from the flock a few at a time, and then separating them the way Macklin ordered. Caine and Polly didn’t work as seamlessly as Neil and his dog, Max, but Caine was pleased with how well they did. Neil only had to send Max to correct them once, and Caine figured if the sheep he and Polly moved weren’t quite as orderly or tightly bunched as the ones Neil handled, it still wasn’t bad for a first day’s work.
“We’ll make a jackaroo out of you yet,” Neil praised when they finished for the day and headed in for dinner.
“You did great today!” Jason gushed when he came in to the canteen a few minutes later. “You look like a real jackaroo out there!”

“Polly did a great job,” Caine demurred. “All I did was tell her what to do.”
“But you obviously told her the right things,” Jason insisted. “Will you tell Mr. Armstrong I taught you? Maybe he’ll let me help tomorrow.”
“I’ll tell him,” Caine promised, “but I can’t promise it’ll make a difference in what he has each of us doing tomorrow. He assigns the jobs, not me.” Maybe someday Caine would have the confidence in himself and the trust of the men enough to help with the decisions, but for now, he’d be satisfied with Macklin explaining his own decisions as he did each evening while they talked about the plan for the next day. His comments had given Caine insight into the personalities and abilities of the crew.
Macklin still hadn’t come into the canteen when Caine finished dinner, so he filled a plate for the foreman and headed toward Macklin’s little house. He found the foreman in the living room, poring over the breeding records.“You didn’t come to dinner.”
“I was still full from lunch,” Macklin replied, not looking up when Caine walked in.
“I brought dinner anyway,” Caine said. “I’ll put it in the kitchen. You can have it for a midnight snack if you want. Do you want a beer or some tea?”
“Beer,” Macklin answered absentmindedly.
Caine rolled his eyes and carried the plate into the kitchen, sticking it in the refrigerator and getting two beers. He opened them and carried them back into the living room. “So what’s so important in that book that you didn’t even look up when I came in? It’s no different than it was last night.”
“I’m looking at the record of the ewes that didn’t lamb successfully last year,” Macklin explained. “The ones we brought in today were the youngest ewes, the ones we haven’t bred before. For the older ones, if we had miscarriages or the breeding didn’t take at all, I want to try breeding them with a different ram. We might have better results.”