Red dirt heart 2, p.1
Red Dirt Heart 2, page 1
RED DIRT HEART II
By N.R. Walker
Welcome to Sutton Station: One of the world’s largest working farms in the middle of Australia—where if the animals and heat don’t kill you first, your heart just might.
Copyright
Cover Artist: Sara York
Editor: Erika Orrick
Red Dirt Heart 2 © 2014 N.R. Walker
First edition: August 2014
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.
The Licensed Art Material is being used for illustrative purposes only.
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
WARNING
Intended for an 18+ audience only. This book contains material that maybe offensive to some and is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, homosexual relations, explicit sexual content and adult situations.
Dedication:
For those who took a chance on me years ago, and for those who are with me still,
thank you.
“People who truly live in the outback listen to it. What they hear I do not know...What the country says is beyond words."
IAN PARKES, A Youth Not Wasted
Trademark Acknowledgments:
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Land Rover: Land Rover
Skype: Microsoft Corporation
Land Cruiser: Toyota Motor Corporation
Akubra: Akubra Hats Pty Ltd., Ian Dixon Pty. Limited
Harvey Norman: Harvey Norman Retailing Pty Ltd
Driza-bone: Driza-bone Pty. Ltd.
Nutella: Ferrero S.p.A.
The Price is Right: Freemantle Operations B.V.
Woolworth’s: Woolworth, LLC
McDonald’s: McDonald’s Corporation
Domino’s: Domino’s IP Holder LC
Google: Google Inc.
Justin: Boot Royalty Company, L.P.
MC Hammer: Burrell, Stanley K.
Wranglers: Wrangler Apparel Corp.
RM Williams (RMs): R.M. Williams Pty. Ltd.
The Mummy: Universal City Studios LLC
The Godfather: Paramount Pictures Corporation
Bundaberg Rum (Bundy): Bundaberg Distilling Company Pty Limited
Information prior to reading:
Size matters - Sutton Station, while fictional, is based on a working property in the middle of Australia and is three hours drive to the nearest town. Sutton Station is 2.58 million acres (10,441 square kilometres). In comparison, the largest ranch in the USA is King Ranch at 825,000 acres (3,340 square kilometres). Sutton Station is the third biggest station in the Northern Territory and is classed as desert. Sutton Station is approximately the same size as Lebanon.
The Northern Territory is a federal territory in between Queensland and Western Australia. It’s like a state, just don’t call it that to someone who lives there.
Australian Terminology Glossary:
Station: Farm, ranch.
Paddock: Large fenced area for cattle; a pasture.
Holding yard: Corral.
Swag: A canvas bedroll.
Ute: Utility pickup truck.
Motorbike: Motorcycle, dirtbike.
Akubra: Australian cowboy hat.
Scone: American sweet biscuit, usually eaten with cream and jam.
Pub: Bar/drinking venue, usually serves meals.
Trolley: Shopping cart.
Car park: Parking lot
Driza-bone: Oiled coat farmers wear to protect from rain and wind.
Red Dirt Heart 2
By N.R. Walker
CHAPTER ONE
Four days. Four bloody long it-wasn’t-like-this-before-him days.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, I looked at my watch for the twentieth time and sipped my tea.
“He won’t be much longer,” Ma said.
I pretended not to know what she was talking about, and she pretended not to smile. Ma was trying to get dinner ready, and I was under her feet and in her way. I put my still-full cup in the sink and sighed. “It makes no sense,” I said. “I spent twenty-six perfectly capable years without him, how can four days be so fu—” I stopped short of swearing and tried again. “How can four days be so bloody long?”
Ma smiled her eye-crinkling, that’s-so-cute smile. “You miss him. It’s only natural,” she said. “Can you lift this tray for me?”
I carried the old heavy cooking tray of roast beef to the centre table where Ma usually cut it for serving. “But still. Four days. It’s pathetic,” I mumbled. “And they’re late! How long does it take for them to come in from the southern fence line? It shouldn’t take them this long.”
Ma ignored my whining and asked me to get the platters down from the shelf. Then she asked me to get the plates and set the table. I knew she was just keeping me busy and getting me out from under her feet. I’d annoyed her enough for the most of the afternoon. And possibly some of yesterday as well. Day three hadn’t been much fun either.
Travis had been gone for four days. Four freakin’ days. Four days when time stretched thin, draggin’ its sorry self forward. Four days of keepin’ myself busy, four days of being a miserable disgrace.
He was fixin’ fences on the southern line with Ernie, Bacon and Trudy. I wasn’t surprised the fencing needing doing; it was too many years of sun and rust in the making. There was a stretch of fencing a few kilometres long that needed restumping and rewiring. It was a big job and about a hundred kilometres from the homestead. It wasn’t worth coming in each night for. We kept in constant radio contact, and George flew fresh supplies down to them on the second day, similar to what we do when droving cattle.
When Travis said he’d join the others for the job, I’d said I could go too. We were in bed, and Travis rolled us over so he was on top of me and laughed at me. “Can’t you live without me for four days?” he’d asked.
“Don’t be stupid,” I’d shot back at him. “Of course I can.”
He’d grinned in the darkness, kissing me with smiling lips. “You totally can’t.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I’d replied.
“You’ll be useless without me,” he’d goaded, pinning my hands above my head and nudging his nose to mine. “You’ll see.”
And the smug bastard was right.
“You know,” I told Ma as I pulled out the tray of condiments from the dry store pantry. “You know what I hate the most? I hate that he has to be right all the time. It really pisses me off.”
“Hm mm,” Ma hummed in that sure-it-does-honey tone.
“And I hate that he thinks he’ll be the one to decide whether or not he goes fencing for four days, when I said the others were more than capable. I mean, I’m not his keeper, but I am his boss.”
Ma said nothing, just looked at me as she stirred the pot of gravy. She had one eyebrow raised in a ’course-you-are-honey kind of way.
“And he didn’t seem to think leaving me for four days was a problem. He volunteered to camp out for four days rather than be with me, for shit’s sake. So what does that say about me?”
“Charlie,” Ma chided.
“And you know what else I hate? He leaves his towels on the bed. I really hate that. How hard is it to hang it back up again? It’s not hard. At all. And he grinds his teeth when he sleeps. I really hate it when he does that. And what the bloody hell is that letter from my old uni addressed to him for—”
Then we heard the sound of motorbikes and the old ute pulling up at the gates near the shed.
And my chest got all tight and my stomach knotted with butterflies.
Ma burst out laughing. “Hm mm. I can tell by your smile just how much you hate all those things.”
“They’re back,” I stated the obvious.
Ma nodded toward the front of the house. “Go.” When I got to the hall, Ma said, “Charlie?” I turned to look at her. “Try not to give too much away, honey. Then he’ll know he was right.”
I walked out the front door into the cooling air. It was almost winter now, the days were shorter and the nights chilled off quickly. The sunset had gone from its usual array of oranges and reds to darker purples before it became night.
Two bikes and the ute came in from the southern paddocks and pulled up at the shed. The engines died, and I’d only made it as far as the front porch when the silence was cut by the sound of laughter. Either Travis had said something funny, or they’d made a joke about me waiting for him on the veranda like a lovesick schoolgirl.
I just couldn’t bring myself to care.
Travis came up from the shed grinning, just like usual, and bounded up the veranda steps. His tanned skin highlighted his blue eyes and his wide smile, and the red dust covered his jeans and shirt from riding one of the dirt bikes.
Travis had been here for six months, his knee—from where he’d injured himself and got himself lost for a night—was almost good as new. He pulled his hat—my old hat—off his head and smiled. “Evenin’.”
Of course I was smilin’ right back a t him. I was just glad the light was fading so he couldn’t see the blush that heated up my cheeks when he looked at me like that. “Evenin’.”
I wanted so bad to touch him, wrap my arms around, kiss him. But I couldn’t. The others were still at the shed, and we were in clear view of all who were looking.
“You totally missed me,” Travis said. He bit his lip, and he looked at my mouth like he wanted to kiss me too.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said. I tried for nonchalant, but it was barely a whisper.
He laughed, and then his smile faded and all he did was look at me. We just stood there, not speaking, just staring, for the longest minute.
He swallowed loudly. “Did the mail come today?” he asked.
“It did.” I nodded toward the front door. “There’s quite a few for you. It’s all on our bed.”
Our bed.
It still felt weird to say it.
I followed him when he walked inside the house and hung his hat on the hook next to mine. He hesitated in the hall, looking between me and the kitchen, then he snatched up my hand and pulled me into the bedroom.
He turned, and in one fluid motion, he slid his hand around my neck and pulled me in for a kiss.
A four-days-gone kind of kiss.
It was urgent and certain and warm, and it was everything I needed.
He wrapped one arm around me, pulling us together, and he sighed as our bodies melded into each other.
“Boys!” Ma called from the kitchen.
Travis groaned and took a step back, ending the kiss. “You better go out there,” he said. “I better get cleaned up and try and get rid of this,” he said, adjusting himself.
I eyed the bulge in his dirty jeans. “I could help you with that,” I said.
“You will be helping me with this later,” he said, readjusting himself again.
Then I remembered something. “Trav,” I continued, nodding pointedly toward the pile of mail on the bed, “care to tell me why the University of Sydney has sent you something?”
His eyes shot to the envelopes and parcels. “Um, maybe later.”
I picked it up, but he took it off me and threw it back on the bed. He walked out the door and headed toward the bathroom. “Don’t touch it, Charlie.”
“Trav,” I whined. “I’ve waited all day.”
At the bathroom door, Travis laughed. “Answer’s still no.”
Then Ma called out from the kitchen. “Charles Sutton.”
“Saved by the bell,” Travis whispered. Then he bloody grinned and shut the door.
“I could just open it and read it,” I said to the bathroom door.
“You could,” he called out. I heard the bathroom tap turn on. “But you won’t.”
I huffed at him, which might have been a growl, and stomped off into the kitchen where Ma was waiting. “Why are men so frustrating?” I picked up a fork and threw it into the sink.
Ma barked out a loud laugh. “Honey, that is an age-old question. Must be twice as bad for you two.” She was struggling with a heavy pan, so I snatched up a tea towel and lifted it from the stove to the table for her.
I huffed again and opened the dry-store pantry, probably with more force than was completely necessary. “I’m not frustrating at all. He is.” I carried the tray of sauces out and put them on the kitchen table. Ma was looking at me, biting her top lip.
“What?” I asked. “I’m not!”
She turned back to the sink, I guessed so I couldn’t see her smile. Her voice gave her away. “I take it he wouldn’t tell you what was in the envelope?”
“No.”
Travis appeared in the doorway, looking all clean and smelling even better. “Has it been bothering you?” he asked, not even trying to hide his smile.
“All day,” I admitted.
His smile became that eye-crinkling kind as he walked into the kitchen. He put his hands to my face and kissed me. It was something he only ever did in front of Ma. The kitchen was neutral territory, where anyone was free to speak their minds. The other station hands, my employees, never came into the kitchen, and we never touched—let alone kissed—in front of them.
“Go get cleaned up,” he said. “I’ll finish setting the table.” He pecked his lips to mine again and pushed me toward the door. “Go.” When I was halfway up the hall, he called out, “And don’t touch the envelope.”
After I’d washed my hands and face, I went back out to find George, Bacon, Trudy, Billy and Ernie at the dining table. Travis was there too, of course, and as we ate, they were talking about their four days on the southern fence line.
Travis looked tired, though he was still all smiles. I had no doubt he’d been up before the sun each day, and his bed being a swag on the ground hardly made for sound sleeping. Winter was the best time to get the most work done; the nights were cold but the days were merely warm compared to the scorching heat of summer. And Travis loved to work. He loved being busy, he loved being productive, and he didn’t stop all day.
They all talked about their weekend off, how they were leaving for the Alice in the morning. There was the usual excitement and bullshit about who was doing what.
Before dinner was finished, Ernie said, “There was a large mob of roos getting into the top south paddock too. Makin’ a real mess.”
I pushed my empty plate away. “How many?”
Travis shrugged. “About twenty.”
I looked at George. “We might take a look this weekend.”
I could tell George was making plans in his head before dinner was cleared away, and I knew we’d sort it out tomorrow. But tonight I had other things on my mind.
I wanted Travis in my bed. And I wanted to know what the hell he was up to with that envelope from my old uni.
When everyone else was gone and the house was quiet—and after Travis had deliberately avoided it for as long as I could stand—I dragged him into our room. He shut the door behind us and laughed when I handed him the envelope.
“Please open it.” I wasn’t above begging.
Travis ignored me and picked up the largest brown box first. The label was in his mother’s handwriting, so I tried to be patient while he ripped into that one first. His mum had sent over his favourite hoodie. He’d come over here in the heat of the summer fully intending to stay for just four weeks. He had no winter clothes, except for what he swiped of mine. I’d ordered him some more shirts and jeans online, but somehow I ended up with those and he just kept on wearin’ mine.
His mum had also sent him some biscuits.
“Cookies.”
“Biscuits.”
“Cookies.”
“They’re biscuits.”
“They’re cookies. It even says so on the package.” He held it up to show me. “And these are my favourites. I’ve missed these.” He ripped into the packet and shoved a biscuit in his mouth. He moaned and his head lolled back as he chewed. “They’re so good.” He unfolded the handwritten note from his family, and I waited as he read it. “Mum sends her love,” he said as he kept reading. I stood and waited as patiently as I could until he was done. Travis looked at me then and held the packet of biscuits out to me. “Want one?”
I shook my head. “Trav.”
The next to be opened was the small brown box. We ordered all sex supplies online, and they were delivered in discreet plain cardboard boxes. I’m sure George and Ma knew what was in them when the mail was collected, but it sure beat asking for either of them to pick up flavoured lube when they went to town next.
He ripped the box open and upended it onto the bed. “Oh look, lube,” he said. “Lots of lube. If you play your cards right, I just might let you use these on me.”
“Travis,” I said. “Please.”
“It really bothers you, doesn’t it?” he said, picking up the large white envelope that had indeed bothered me all damn day. He was looking at it, turning it over in his hands. His smile was gone.
“Why won’t you tell me what’s in it?”
“I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
“Trav, what did you do?”
He bit his bottom lip and finally looked at me. He swallowed hard and handed me the envelope. “I might have contacted them, and I might have inquired about gettin’ you re-enrolled to finish your degree.”
