Bringo Springs

Bringo Springs by Laney Cairo Torquere Press www.torquerepress.com Copyright ©2007 by Laney Cairo First published in ...

Author: Cairo Laney

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Bringo Springs by Laney Cairo

Torquere Press www.torquerepress.com

Copyright ©2007 by Laney Cairo First published in www.torquerepress.com, 2007 NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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With thanks to Kris, and her horses, Appy and Charlie.

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Chapter One Late autumn, mid-May, and the bite was gone from the sun by mid-afternoon, though the black strip of road still rippled with heat. The paddocks beside the road were bare red dirt; disinterested cattle drifted aimlessly in the search for shade, kicking up trails of dust. Ross knew the road to his grandfather's farm at Bringo Springs; it was burned into his memory by endless visits during school holidays, and then later when he was an adult, to give Granddad a hand with seeding or cropping or calving. That was why he was making the five hundred kilometer trek from the city yet again, to help out. Granddad was in the nearest hospital, nursing a broken hip and an attitude problem, fretting over his cattle, his beloved horse, his dog and a cantankerous bore pump. Ross' mum had rung Ross, and here he was, on the road, looking forward to not having to deal with his life for a while. There were two slabs of beer in the back of his car, along with his laptop, a mountain of journal articles and a couple of changes of clothes. His family hadn't grasped the subtle difference between graduate student and unemployed, they only knew it meant that he had the least commitments or money of any of them and was available to go and help out. The road curved over the top of the final hill, then dropped down to the turn off for the farm. He knew the view behind was breath-taking, looking over the coastal plain to where Geraldton was a blur on the horizon, but Ross was far more 4


interested in the view to the left and ahead, where he could glimpse the treed ridge that sheltered the homestead. He parked his car at the front gate to the farm, collected the mail from the tin can nailed to the fencepost, and opened the main gate. It wasn't easy, with a clip on the gate, and a length of chain, then a star picket to be lifted out of the way. The frame dragged in the dirt, wearing a furrow, but when Ross lifted it higher, the hinge at the other end flexed alarmingly. Looked like he'd be making some repairs while he was here. The cattle in the front paddock spotted him, and it became a race to get back to his car, drive it through the gap, and get the gate shut before any of them got out onto the road. There'd be diced beef if one of the passing iron ore trucks hit a cow. He hadn't been on the farm since Christmas, and hadn't spent more than a couple of days there for a year, so he didn't actually know the cows individually. A dopey-looking gray head-butted him solidly as he opened his car door, complaining in low moans, and he patted her head. "I know," he said. "You want your dinner. Give me half an hour, and I'll come and feed you." He had to inch his car across the paddock, cows milling around. Granddad's blue heeler, Dog, hurtled through the far fence, shouting his head off, bounced across the cattle's backs and jumped onto the bonnet of Ross' car. Ross wound his window down and Dog was inside instantly, bounding all over the front seats, licking Ross' face and yipping. 5


"Hey, Dog," Ross laughed, trying to get the animal off the steering wheel. "Guess you're hungry, too." Ross stopped the car again and went to tackle the next gate, and Dog followed him out of the car, dived through the strands of the fence and streaked up the track through the gum trees to the house, too impatient to wait for Ross. The house had a ring of gums around it, sheltering it from the blistering heat of the summer winds that blew across a couple of thousand kilometers of desert before reaching the house. Ross parked his car under one of the gums, in the shade, and picked up his laptop out of the back. He'd unpack the rest later; there was work to be done first. The fly screen door banged, marking Dog's passage through it, and Ross grimaced and grabbed a broom from beside the door. If the screen door was ajar, there'd be snakes inside. Dog bounded at Ross in the laundry, barking, then skittered into the kitchen. That was a "come and help" bark, so Ross dumped his laptop on the washing machine and gripped the broom with both hands. The snake was curled up in front of the fridge, Dog nose down and growling at it. "Get out," Ross ordered, and the dog backed off, following his obedience training. The snake was a tiger snake, black back and yellow belly. Hideously poisonous. It turned a little, tongue out and tasting the air, so Ross shoved the head of the broom at it, pinning it to the ground. He really hoped the broom handle didn't snap. The snake twisted and coiled, and he jammed the broom head harder 6


over it, rocking the wood across the snake's body, crushing it against the vinyl flooring. It made satisfying crunching noises. He kept the force on it until it was still, then grabbed a knife out of the block on the counter and hacked through the less dangerous end of the snake, severing it right through. Dog yipped, and Ross lifted the broom head up. He'd made an icky mess on the floor, but the snake didn't move at all. "Round one to opposable thumbs," he said to Dog. "And use of tools." He swept the snake bits onto a sheet of newspaper and tossed the meat up onto the shed roof for the crows to pick over, then dumped the soiled paper in the compost bucket. Dog barked again, and Ross patted his head. "Dinnertime?" he asked. Dog's dinner should be in the meat fridge in the shed beside the house, alongside the huge freezer, and Ross picked up a spade from beside the shed door and went in. Spades were better than brooms for killing snakes, and until he'd done a round of the sheds and house checking for them, he'd be happier with something sharp and metal in his hands. He found a slab of 'roo meat in a plastic container in the otherwise empty fridge. Dog hovered around Ross' knees while Ross lifted the lid and sniffed. "Doesn't smell off," he told Dog. He hacked off a chunk of the meat with one of the slaughtering knives that lived in the shed, dropped it into Dog's tray, then added a scoop of kibble from the sack sealed in a cleaned out forty-four gallon drum. 7


Dog dropped to the ground, nose on his paws, and looked up hopefully. Ross waited, counted to ten, then said, "You can eat." He left Dog nose down in his tray, shed door open, and went to find a pair of boots that fit. He found a pair of Blundies on the boot rack beside the back door, in the right size, which might even have originally been his, so Ross removed the spiders from the boots and swapped his sneakers for the protective footwear. When Ross pulled the tractor to a grinding halt at the gate, the cattle were lined up at the fence, pressed against the barbed wire strands and making the fence lean alarmingly. "Bugger," he said under his breath. The electric fence was off, and that was not a good thing. If all of the electrical fencing was out, not just that paddock, there'd be a bull wandering loose somewhere eventually. Opening the gate distracted the cows from their fencecrushing attempts, and he trundled the tractor through the gap up to the feeder. The lucerne went into the feeder, and Ross tramped through the dust to check the water trough. He poked at the small amount of sludge at the bottom of the trough. Quick inspection revealed the line was intact at surface level but the feeder tank that held two hundred fifty liters was empty. "Fuck, fuck," Ross said. Granddad had said the bore pump was on the blink. This was a variation of "on the blink" that involved no water at all reaching the cattle in that big front 8


paddock, and possibly no water anywhere on the entire property. Muffy, his Granddad's beloved and possibly demented horse, who would let no one handle her except Granddad, backed away from him, ears flat against her skull, teeth showing, when he carried a bucket of chaff into her pen. "It's okay, sweetie," he said. "I'm not going to try and touch you." Her trough was empty, too. When Ross carried two buckets of water from the house, she backed away from her feed trough again, but without the shows of aggression. "Good girl," he said, closing the gate to her pen behind him. "You're just going to have to stay ungroomed until the old man gets back here, aren't you?" Ross opened the door of the bore pump shed and brandished the spade in front of him. Nothing moved, and Dog didn't seem alarmed when he sniffed around the shed, so hopefully the only critters he had to worry about were red back spiders. With the door propped open, the fried wiring and fuse board was obvious. Ross lifted the pump cover, and he could smell the burnt insulation. Presumably, the pump had blown, and taken the fuses with it. There were forty head of cattle in the front paddock, with a handful of calves. There was a bull in solitary confinement. There was Muffy, in the horse pen. And he and Dog could do with some water, too. Somewhere amongst the scribbled notes stuck to Granddad's notice board would be the contact details for whoever installed the bore and pump in the first place. There had to be, if Ross could just read the spidery scrawl. May's 9


Bore Installation. Mrs. M. had played bridge with his grandmother. A woman's voice answered the phone when Ross had deciphered the number. "Um, hello," Ross said. "This is Ross Dell, my grandfather is Rory Dell." "Hello, Ross," the voice said. "I heard about your grandfather. How is he doing?" "He had his hip pinned first thing this morning," Ross said. "He was back on the ward when I left the hospital at lunch time. Is Arthur around, Mrs. M.? There's a bit of a problem at the farm, and I need to get a bore mechanic out here." "Oh dear," the woman said. "Arthur's out at a mining camp, near Mullewa, putting a deep bore in. Do you know what the problem is?" Ross leaned against the kitchen wall and sighed. "I don't actually know yet. Tanks are empty, cattle thirsty. The electric fencing is out, too, so I'm guessing the pump has blown and taken the wiring with it." He flicked the kitchen light on experimentally, and the light came on above him. "Power is on in the house." "I'll let Arthur know, but I don't think he'll be back for a few days," the woman said. "Geoff's back home from droving at the moment. Do you think you can muddle through until tomorrow, then he can pop over and have a look?" Ross shrugged mentally. "I'll do my best," he said. He had childhood memories of Geoff as a tall and sullen teenager, dragging morosely behind his mother at the dreaded bridge club Christmas parties, but couldn't put any kind of 10


personality to the face. As long as he could fix the pump, Geoff could be as dull as he wanted. He knew there was a Furphy tank behind the tractor shed, overgrown with weeds, but Ross was willing to bet the portable tank was still intact even if all the fittings had perished. He picked up the spade from the shed door, and the whipper snipper, too. No way was he going to get bitten by a tiger snake. It took time to slash the dead weeds back from the Furphy, and Ross killed a tiger snake and a king brown snake before he'd cleared the undergrowth from around the tank. The tires on the trailer had perished and rotted, but Ross ignored that and backed the tractor up to the trailer. He was hot and thirsty, his hands hurt from the labor, and he wanted to remind someone—anyone—that he was actually an intellectual, and that this was looking far too much like hard work. Dog looked at him quizzically, head on one side. There wasn't much point in looking for sympathy from a working dog. The tractor pulled the Furphy on its trailer, in spite of the rotted tires, and Ross parked it as close to the house rainwater tank as he could get it. The cap on top of the portable tank didn't want to budge, and Ross had to bash it with a hammer to loosen the thread. The inside of the tank looked clean enough from a distance, and Ross didn't want to look too closely because of the red backs, so he dragged the hose attached to the household 11


rainwater tank over and shoved it in the mobile tank. The household tank supplied the kitchen sink only, with water for drinking and cooking. Everything else, bathroom, toilet and laundry, was bore water, and out of action. If he could get a few hundred liters out of the rainwater tank and into the mobile one, he could drag the smaller tank around the farm and water the livestock. And if he emptied the household tank, then Granddad could pay to get drinking water freighted in. Being autumn, there wasn't much left in the main tank, and the flow wasn't more than a trickle, which gave Ross time to think things through and prove he was really an intellectual by remembering to put his warm beer in the fridge in the kitchen. The trickle had slowed to a seep by then, so Ross switched off the spigot and coiled the hose. It was the kind of lavender sunset that Ross remembered from his childhood visits to the farm; the prevailing easterly wind had dropped and the gum trees on the ridge were sharp against the encroaching dusk. Cockatoos shrieked in the distance and he could see 'roos loping across the empty feed paddocks. The cattle milled around the trough, and he filled it to the brim, then stood and waited for them to drink before he refilled it. "I'm sorry, old girls," he said. "I'll do what I can to get you a real water supply tomorrow."

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The bull glowered at Ross when he opened the gate to the bull's pen. "Stay there, you old bastard," Ross said. "Just while I fill your trough." Muffy wasn't much happier, shuffling away from Ross. He kept his front to her and his hands out of the way while he topped up her water, then put some hay in her feed trough. "Poor old girl," he said, and she flared her nostrils at him. Dog looked hopefully at Ross when he clambered off the tractor, leaving it and the tank on now completely destroyed tires right beside the house, and Ross patted his head. "Okay, you can have a second dinner." What Ross really wanted was a hot meal, something fabulous and spicy. And a long hot shower. And his boyfriend, Eugene. And some beer. He sat on the verandah, the farm shrouded in the darkness, no moon risen yet. He had a cold beer. He had a reheated tin of baked beans. The sky was painfully clear, Milky Way a blaze of shine across the black, Southern Cross hanging low in the south. Somewhere in the gums, an owl was calling. Dog put his head on Ross' knee and sighed contentedly and Ross stroked his ears gently. He was going to have another beer, then call Eugene. **** Someone was fiddling with the front gate when Geoff found the turn-off, and it definitely wasn't the old bloke that Geoff remembered from helping his father install the pump a few years before. 13


The bloke cutting fencing wire from a roll on the back of the Land Rover was young, too young to even be the owner's son. He dragged the gate open, waved Geoff through in his F100, and closed the gate behind him, then came and leaned against the wing of Geoff's Ford. "God, am I glad to see you," the young bloke said through the open window, and Geoff found his throat was suddenly dry. "I'm Geoff. I got the message you were having a bit of trouble." "Ross," the young guy said. "Rory's grandson. Want to follow me up to the house?" Ross was hot: long, long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, slender body, city skin and hands. In Geoff's world, men had skin cancer, calluses and shoulders that you'd expect to find on a rugby player. And definitely not hair down to their waists. Geoff watched Ross clamber back into the Land Rover. His faded jeans hung in folds on him, held up by a belt, stopping Geoff from getting a good look at Ross' arse. The Land Rover trundled across the paddock, stopping with its motor chugging while Ross dragged the second gate open to let Geoff through. The pump shed was close to the house, so Geoff parked his truck in the shade beside the sedan with city plates, hopped out, and waited while Ross dealt with closing the gate. 14


The sedan, small, white and plastic, had a strip of color stuck right across the back window. Purple, blue, green, yellow, orange, red. Geoff grinned as he lifted out his tool box. Now, that was a sight that he didn't see very often out in the sticks, along with pretty boys with long hair and delicate skin. The Land Rover parked, and Ross hopped out. "Shed's down this way," he said. The small paddock beside the house held an elderly chestnut mare, and Geoff put down his tool box and walked across to the fence. "Hey, sweetie," he said, and she picked her ears up and looked at him, then sidled over. "She's temperamental," Ross said. "She'll bite you if you touch her." The mare blew air out of her nostrils, so Geoff leaned over the fence and held his hand out to her. "She's lovely," he said, and the mare snuffled his hand, moving her lips over his bare skin. He scratched the mare on her forelock, between the ears, and rubbed her cheek. Ross was still standing well back, out of Geoff's sight. "I think she might just be upset that your grandfather isn't here," he said, trying to be diplomatic. "Perhaps she doesn't like her routine being changed. Did you give her the same food she always has?" "I don't know," Ross said, and Geoff glanced over his shoulder at him. "I just fed her some lucerne hay, same as the cattle get, and some chaff." 15


Geoff turned his attention back to the mare. "She might not like it," he said. "If there's fodder separate in her tack shed, then feed her that. Don't give her oats unless she's being worked hard, it'll make her jumpy. She probably wants to get out of this pen, too." "Oh God," Ross said. Geoff grinned over his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll ride her for you. Now, show me this pump." Geoff squatted down in the shed and shone his torch over the pump and the board and shook his head. "It's fucked, mate," he said. "Motor's fused, and I'll bet you anything when I pull the bore shaft out, it'll be sitting in mud, not water. Water tables are dropping right through the shire. Your granddad expected the pump to move mud as well as water, and it won't." "I thought there was a cut off switch to stop that happening. Can you fix it?" Ross asked, squatting down beside Geoff. "Replace the motor," Geoff said. "It'll take some time, and I'll have to bring a drill rig in and drop the shaft deeper, but I can at least get the board replaced today so your fencing is live." He poked at the housing with a screwdriver. "As for the safety switch, someone has disabled it. Bet your grandfather got tired of the damned thing cutting out all the time." "Bugger," Ross said. "If you give me a hand, it'll be quicker," Geoff said, and Ross nodded. "Yeah, but you'll have to tell me what to do." 16


Geoff was aware that he was on dangerous ground, but fuck, hot men were scarce, and Ross was a babe. "I'd like that," he said, and he touched Ross' cheek, pressing his fingers against the pale and smooth skin. "Can't think of anything I'd rather do." Ross jerked his head back and ducked out of the shed. Geoff followed, cursing under his breath, expecting to have to follow Ross back to the house to apologize, but Ross was standing outside the shed, eyes squinting in the bright morning sun. "Sorry mate," Geoff said. "Guess I misread things." Ross shrugged. "Actually you didn't, it was just completely unexpected. I hadn't, um, picked you." Geoff's shrugged, too. "Yeah, well, it's not something I advertise. No stickers on my car." Ross glanced across at his sedan, with the blue heeler dozing under the back of it. "Guess not." "How about we forget about this," Geoff said. "I'll go use the phone in the house, order the parts, then I'll do something about the electric fences." **** It wasn't like there wasn't a million things that desperately needed doing, plenty to keep Ross away from the pump shed and Geoff. He switched trailers on the tractor and fed the cattle and the bull, then dragged the Furphy around, leaving deep grooves in the dirt where the buckled rims dug into the dust. 17


The horse looked dubiously at him when he took a bucket of chaff and a biscuit of wheaten hay out to her, but she sidled up to her feeding trough as soon as he'd stepped back from it. She was an elderly horse, graying around her muzzle and no longer as lean as she'd once been. Ross didn't know a lot about horses since he'd never been allowed to touch Muffy before, but she looked sad. At least he thought she did. He understood. He missed his grandfather, too. Geoff strolled over, a chunk of electrical cabling and pliers in his hand. "Have you got any poly conduit?" Geoff asked. "And I could do with some Gallagher Turbo wire, if you could find me a spool." Geoff took his battered Akubra off and rubbed a hand over his short dark hair then jammed the slouch hat back on. He was sunburnt and solidly muscled, grubby and gruff, with sweat rings under the armpits of his khaki shirt. Ross made himself focus on the request. "What rating Turbo wire do you want?" "G6205," Geoff said, and he smiled at Ross, cheeky and so damned sexy. Ross picked up the spade that now lived beside the back door, and headed off into the sheds, and he could damned well feel Geoff's eyes on his arse. "Fuck," he said under his breath. Later he rang Eugene again, sitting on one of the vinylcovered chairs in the kitchen, flies buzzing around the kitchen light. 18


"Hey," he said when Eugene answered. "Hey, Ross. How're things going?" Eugene said, and Ross could picture him sprawled on the couch in his living room, reaching for a glass of wine. "Hard work," Ross admitted. "The bore's blown up, and there's no water on the farm. I smell bad." He did. He smelt of sweat and dust, and his face was gritty, but the shower used bore water. He was going to have to wash in the kitchen sink. He could imagine Eugene shuddering. "Sounds dreadful. When you coming back?" "Don't know," Ross said. "Could be a while. Why don't you come up here for the weekend? You could drive up Friday night after work, drive back first thing Monday morning. I miss you." "Miss you, too," Eugene said. "But there's no water up there, is there? Bet there're flies and snakes and all those dreadfully conservative farmers, too." Ross thought about telling Eugene about Geoff, with his khaki work shirt rolled up to show his thickly muscled forearms, but discarded the idea immediately. It would only make Eugene shudder again. "Yeah, there're snakes," Ross said. "Love to stay here and chat," Eugene said. "But Charles and Frank are over, and we're going out for a bite to eat and to a club. Talk to you again soon." "Sure," Ross said. "Soon." Then the line went dead and Ross put the phone back on its rest. Food. He needed to eat something, and have a beer. 19


Then he'd better boot the laptop and make a start on his notes, before the sleeping bag on the spare bed seduced him completely.

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Chapter Two The sound of the F100 trundling up to the house, Dog barking at it, woke Ross the next morning. It was chilly when he unzipped the sleeping bag, making him drag his jeans and a shirt on in a hurry, along with a sweater. Ross opened the screen door and waved sleepily to Geoff, who was unloading a box from the cab of his Ford. "Morning," Geoff called out, and he carried a cardboard box to the verandah. "This is from Mum. She seemed to think the old man would have left you nothing to eat, and that you shouldn't have to starve." Ross took the box and peered into it. "Wow. Thank your mum for me, please. Is this coffee?" "It is," Geoff said. "And I'd really appreciate a mug of it, before I start work." There were mugs on the drainer, so Ross rinsed a couple under the trickle of water from the tap to remove the dust, then carried them over to the kitchen table. "Have a seat," he said to Geoff, vaguely aware that he must look awful, all sleep-muddled and disheveled. Geoff uncapped a thermos and filled the mugs. "Have you got any milk?" he asked. Ross opened the fridge and took out a tube of sweetened condensed milk. "This is it," he said. Geoff took the tube from him and waved it at the slew of photocopied journal articles on the table. "What you working on?" he asked as he squeezed a dollop of milk into each mug. 21


Ross wrapped his hands around his mug. The morning was cold, and he could hear the wind whistling around the window frames and rattling the guttering. "It's my Masters," he said. "I'm writing a thesis on Noam Chomsky's influence on contemporary philosophy." Geoff said, "I really enjoyed Manufacturing Consent when I read it during my unsuccessful business degree. I'm going to go unload the truck, then get your fencing online. I could do with a hand, when you've had something to eat." "You've got a business degree? I thought your mum said you'd been droving?" Ross asked, and he couldn't help smiling at the idea that he'd actually stumbled upon someone who'd read Chomsky. Sure, it was the most populist and accessible of his texts, but it was still something. "Hated living in the city, gave the degree idea up after a year," Geoff said as he stood up. "Rather be riding the long paddock." It took Ross ten minutes to untangle his hair and plait it, then to brush his teeth, by which time Geoff had backed the truck up to the shed and begun to unpack a bewildering array of cabling, tools and piping. Ross took the spool of Turbo wire that Geoff handed him, and his knees nearly buckled under the weight. "You right there?" Geoff asked, and he sounded amused by Ross' staggering attempts to carry the spool. "Just put it down besides the shed door." Ross didn't even attempt to lower the spool down, just let it drop, keeping his toes out of the way. His boots might be 22


steel-capped, but that was easily fifty kilos of wire, and he liked having ten toes. Geoff dropped an even larger spool of wire beside Ross'. "That's it for the moment. I brought some new hinges for the front gate, thought you might appreciate it. They're in the cab of the truck." When Geoff watched Ross lean into the passenger side of the truck cab, Ross was glad he was wearing his own jeans that day, instead of a pair borrowed from his grandfather's cupboard that were four sizes too large. **** The wind rose steadily during the morning, blowing dust into Ross' eyes and shaking gum nuts loose from the trees. It took time to drag the tank around the property, then to retrace his steps with feed, and he was hungry again. Coffee and food. He was sure there'd been some cake or something in the box from Mrs. M. Geoff would want coffee, too. It was as he was carrying the two mugs out of the house and across the yard, taking one to Geoff, that he saw the dangling guttering. "Oh fuck," he said under his breath. Geoff must have seen him leave the house, coffees in hand, then freeze, because Geoff wandered over and took one of the mugs. "What's wrong?" Geoff asked, looking toward the house, too, where the down pipe to the rain water tank dangled uselessly and the guttering sagged. 23


"The guttering," Ross said. "Hate to tell you this," Geoff said. "But it's going to rain soon. That's some weather on the way." The sky was still clear blue, but the wind was howling in from the southwest, and Ross could smell the moisture in the air. Seasons didn't ease in and out in the Mid-west of Western Australia, they arrived fully formed and in a hurry. Winter was on the way. They walked a circuit of the house, studying the guttering and down pipes, then Geoff handed Ross his mug. "Hold this," he said. "Let's not make assumptions that anything is actually patent." A dead washing machine had been dumped beside the house, and Geoff jumped up onto it and peered over the edge of the roof. He pulled a work glove out of his jeans pocket and put it on, then rummaged around inside the gutter for a moment. The handful of dead leaves and weeds he tossed down was dried solid, like mud, hitting the ground with a thud. Geoff jumped back down and took his glove off. "How do you feel about re-guttering the place?" he asked. "I reckon that if we just clean that lot out, it'll leak like a sieve." "Bugger," Ross said. "No way the old man could have done it by himself, anyway." "How long is he out of action for?" Geoff asked, wiping coffee off his chin with the back of his hand. "How long are you planning on staying here?" 24


Ross shrugged. "He'll be out of hospital in a couple of weeks, but it'll be months until he can stay here by himself." Ross actually had a life in the city, classes and commitments, but they were going to have to wait. Geoff slapped him on the back. "Then we'll do it for him. I have to go into town today, pick up all the bore parts and hire a drill rig. I could get all the new guttering and roof plumbing, too." "I should go and see him," Ross said. "Mind if I catch a ride?" "You can ride me anytime you want," Geoff said, pushing his mug into Ross' hands before striding back off to the pump shed. "And by the way, the fences are electrified again," he called out over his shoulder. Ross should have been flustered or something, but he was grinning when he carried the empty mugs back into the house. **** "How was the old man?" Geoff asked when Ross opened the passenger door of the truck cab and climbed in. "Miserable," Ross said, and he didn't quite meet Geoff's gaze. Well, Geoff had been pretty upfront, but it'd been a long time and he was feeling like a horse that had been fed too many oats. "I told him about the pump and the guttering, and he moaned about the money. And apparently he bit one of the nurses this morning," Ross added. 25


"What did you say?" Geoff asked, tossing the truck into reverse and then second, pulling out of the hospital car park. "That he was a mean old bastard, and that the place was going to be fixed up even if I had to get the cash from the family trust fund. Where are we going?" "That was incisive of you," Geoff said. "And we're going to the supermarket. With two of us staying there, we'll need more food and some drinking water." "You're staying?" Ross asked, voice pitched a little higher than usual. "Guttering, bore, drilling," Geoff listed. "There's bad weather on the way, Muffy needs exercising, and you can't possibly keep watering the stock with that ridiculous tank. The black cow is about to calve, and if the rains start, you'll need to put in a fodder crop in a hurry, or the old man is going to be buying in feed by the end of next summer. I just hope that he's limed the paddocks already." "Bloody hell," Ross said as Geoff turned the truck into the car park of the supermarket. "I noticed you had beer in the fridge," Geoff said. "But I think we'll need a bottle of whiskey to get through this mess." **** They bought twenty liters of drinking water, a whole stack of tinned food and cereals, and a sack of rice. And two bottles of whiskey. By the time Ross wheeled the shopping trolley out to the truck, thin cirrus clouds skidded inland, high overhead, and a dark cloudbank loomed out to the west. 26


"Put it in the cab," Geoff said. "We're going to be chasing the rain back to the farm." It was cold, wind biting into Geoff's shoulders and knees through his work clothes, and he dug a sweater out from the back storage area of the cab and hauled it on. People scurried around the car park, dodging trolleys that the wind was pushing around. Geoff grabbed the sack of rice and pushed it into the passenger foot well of the truck. Ross moved, too, emptying the trolley in a hurry then dragging it back to the automatic doors of the supermarket. Geoff had the truck going before Ross ran back. He flicked the radio on, and reversed out of the bay. If there were stock weather alerts out, they needed to know. The weather followed them back to the farm, black clouds rolling in, darkening the sky early by blotting the sun out. It spat with rain, rearranging the dirt on the truck windscreen, and Geoff listened unhappily to the mid-west weather reports. It was going to be a wet night. The tractor was still out in the open, so Geoff parked the truck in the tractor shed, and the pair of them lugged the shopping to the house. Dog welcomed them, leaping up at Ross repeatedly until Ross took him to the shed beside the house and fed him. Muffy was calling unhappily in the dusk, so in the fading light Geoff searched the tack shed beside her pen and found a waterproof horse blanket. She let him cover her up, twitching her skin unhappily when he touched her but making no moves to bite him. He 27


crooned to her as he buckled on her blanket, and she lowered her head and bumped him with her muzzle. "Bad weather coming," he told her. "You stay out of the wind beside the shed, okay?" She grumbled, and he patted her neck. The lights were on in the house, and Geoff could see Ross moving around in the kitchen, silhouetted against the window. He wanted to go indoors, wanted a whole load of things actually, but a cow lowing in the main paddock needed checking first. The smell of frying onions was heady, wafting out through the screen door, making Geoff's stomach grumble while he kicked his boots off. He padded in his socks into the kitchen, where Ross was frying steaks. "Chips are in the oven," Ross said. "Beer's in the fridge." "Solid work," Geoff said, opening the fridge and taking out a can. "Do you want one, too?" Ross waved an open can of beer at Geoff, drank from it, then splashed beer over the steaks. "Is Muffy okay?" he asked, turning the heat up under the steaks and boiling off the beer. "She's miserable, but rugged up," Geoff said after the first chug of beer had washed down his throat. "The black cow's in labor, too." Ross put down the egg slice he was brandishing. "Damn," he said. "Bad night for it." "Maybe she'll hold off until the front's passed through," Geoff said, leaning back against the kitchen counter. "I'll go 28


check her again after dinner." Ross was grubby and windblown, still wearing his work clothes, but he was still the best thing Geoff had seen in a damned long time. It was a small kitchen, so one long stride brought Geoff up close and personal to Ross. Geoff put his beer down beside the stove and took Ross' beer out of his unresisting hands. When Geoff leaned forward, Ross didn't pull away, and the first brush of their lips was strangely anti-climactic, just the gentle pressure of skin against skin. Then Ross grabbed Geoff's shoulders and pulled him closer. His mouth was open and eager against Geoff's, tasting of beer, wanting more. Their teeth clicked and tongues slid together, making Geoff feel if he didn't get to eat more of Ross, right then, his heart might stop. Geoff grabbed handfuls of Ross, his back, his arse through his jeans, pushing him back against the kitchen cupboards. Ross had his hands under Geoff's sweater and shirt, hands scratching at his back. Geoff groaned against Ross' mouth, and something clattered to the floor, dislodged by their frantic scramble. The wind outside picked up in strength, battering at the house. Geoff had worked one hand around and between their bodies, to where Ross' cock was pushing urgently against Geoff's hip through layers of clothing, when a huge crash outside made Dog howl. The lights went out, apart from the blue glow of the gas stove, and Geoff swore. "Fucking hell!"

29


Ross moved, turning the gas off under the pans. "There're torches in the laundry, on the shelf above the washing machine. Wet weather gear on the hooks." Over the sounds of the storm—tree branches crashing against each other and rain pounding at the roof and windows—Muffy was whinnying, high and thin, and the sudden white flash of lightning lit the room briefly. Geoff dragged a Drizabone on and shoved his feet into his boots, all by feel, then Ross got a torch switched on, giving a solid yellow beam of light. Geoff grabbed another torch, and Ross opened the back and screen doors. A wet and loud Dog hurtled in, and back out again; they followed him out into the wet and wind. Lightning seared through the blackness, burning Geoff's eyes and showing that a gum tree had been blown down, sprawled across the pump shed, trunk shattered and twisted, pushed over by the gale force winds that buffeted at them both or felled by the lightning. "Fuck," Ross shouted over the sound of the gale, while thunder crashed around them. Muffy called again, and Geoff fought his way through the driving rain to her pen. She was circling frantically, and lightning struck close enough that the flash and boom coincided. "Poor girl," he said to himself. She had to be moved under shelter, the risk of a lightning strike was too great. Ross had disappeared, off to deal with another disaster, so it took time for Geoff to find a halter and lead for Muffy in the tack shed, 30


and he grabbed her saddle blanket, too. At least he was temporarily out of the storm there. The ground in Muffy's pen, previously ankle deep dirt, was now churned up mud, and he had to drag each foot out of the quagmire. They'd had a good couple of centimeters of rain in a hurry, and the oily sand wasn't absorbing any of it, turning the top layer of dirt into slurry. Muffy spun to face Geoff when he called her name, then backed away from him, ears right back and eyes wild with fear, lifting up onto her back legs each time he moved, but he kept approaching her, following her around her pen, talking to her over the sound of the storm. Something must have gotten through to her; she worked out he wasn't trying to hurt her, or just plain got bored, because after patient, drenched minutes she stopped and dropped her head. He slipped the halter on her, hand steadying her neck and comforting her, the black sky lit momentarily by sheet lightning, rolling thunder shaking the ground. She let him lead her out of the pen and across the yard. He took the torch out of the pocket of the Drizabone and switched it back on. They skirted around the fallen tree, Muffy complaining but not resisting. The tractor shed was open on one side, to the north, and the tractor was out in the open, leaving space beside Geoff's truck for Muffy, at least that was the plan. Muffy stopped cold just outside the shed, knees locked and teeth bared. Geoff shoved the torch back in his pocket and pressed his head against Muffy's neck. The shed sheltered 31


them from the worst of the storm, but Geoff was cold and wet. He wanted to know where Ross was and he very much wanted to be back in the warm, dry kitchen and kissing Ross again. "Come on, sweetie," he murmured to the immobile Muffy. "It's safe and dry in there. I know it's under a roof, and you don't like rooves, but trust me on this one." He kept talking to her, wet skin against wet mane, and some of the tension dropped out of her neck, then he slid the saddle blanket over her head, blinding her. "Good girl, just one step at a time," he said, tugging gently on the lead and wrapping his other hand around the chin strap of the halter. "One step." She moved one foot, then another, shuffling forward, unable to see. Geoff kept her head low. She crept along, gradually moving under the shelter of the shed roof, and he finally got her inside. A metal bar ran around the sides of his truck flatbed, and he looped the lead around it and tied a quick release knot, grateful he could do that in the dark, then slid the saddle blanket off. Horse handling rules were to never leave a tied horse unsupervised, especially under circumstances like a storm, but he was going to have to because Ross was somewhere out there. Geoff wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but when he plunged back out into the storm the wind seemed to have dropped a little. The rain was pelting down, but no longer horizontally. Lightning still spliced the sky, but the sheet lightning seemed to have moved north. He was cold and wet. 32


His dinner was half-cooked and cooling. The power was out. But he'd been minutes away from getting more sex than he'd had in the preceding year, so it wasn't all bad. Over the howling of the wind he could hear a cow wailing, from the main paddock. The electric fences were certainly out, yet again, with a tree on the pump shed, so Geoff didn't have to trek down to the gate. He could push down the electrified wiring and the barbed wire and clamber over them without getting a jolt. Torchlight flickered in the rain, dim but persistent, so Geoff scrambled through the mud toward the light. The rest of the herd was off to the top of the paddock, under the shelter of the trees along the fence line, he could hear them in the distance. The laboring cow was lowing with distress, constantly moaning, a solid dark shape beside the flitter of light, backlit for a moment by a dart of lightning. Geoff could make out Ross, too, squatting down behind the cow. "Ross!" he called out, and Ross stood up and shone the torch briefly at Geoff. "God, am I glad to see you," Ross said as Geoff slipped and slithered through the mud. "How is she?" Geoff asked, handing his torch to Ross and bending over. Ross' sleeves were still down, so he hadn't done anything wrong. "Waters have broken," Ross said. "Before I got here. I think I can see too many feet."

33


Ross held both torches up, angled, and Geoff spread the cow's vulva and peered. There were too many lumps beginning to present. "You could be right," Geoff said. The wind was dropping as the storm moved north, but it was still a miserable night to be delivering twins in the mud. "Think we can get some more light out here?" Ross lifted one of the torches and shone it across the surface of the paddock, showing a slippery, impossible surface. "Go and get some calving gel, too," Geoff said. The cow moaned and lifted her tail and arched her back, straining. Ross took off, sliding and running through the dirt. As the cow strained again, the tips of the calves' hooves moved forward fractionally when Geoff checked with the torch. He heard a rumble in the distance, the sound of a tractor starting, and Geoff nodded approvingly. Tractors had lights that didn't depend on main power, and they could be used it for traction if they needed it, too. "But you don't need to know that, darling," he said reassuringly to the cow. The tractor trundled loudly through the mud and dirt, spotlights slicing through the rain, and came to a halt ten meters away, just as the cow began to try and flinch away from the sound. Ross jumped down and grabbed a bucket, trudging back to Geoff. 34


"Gel," he said. "Disinfectant. Clean rope if we need it. I couldn't find the calving gloves." "Excellent," Geoff said, and he took his Drizabone off and handed it to Ross, then his sweater and shirt so he was standing bare-chested in the rain. He held his hands up in the rain, the water coursing down his arms, then out to Ross, who poured liquid from a bottle over them. The liquid was freezing cold and stung all of the nicks and cuts in Geoff's hands, but it was better than risking an infection in the cow. "Gel now," he said. Ross took a two liter pump pack out of the bucket and squeezed a palm full of gel out for Geoff. "You know," Geoff said conversationally, working the gel over his right hand. "This is not what I'd planned on doing with lube tonight. Make sure you're not in my light." Ross stepped back and the tractor spotlight shone on the wet and unhappy cow. It wasn't what the cow had in mind either, he guessed. She was well-dilated, and Geoff slid his hand in and had a feel around. One hoof, tiny and warm. Another. Another. The cow strained, and Geoff waited for her to stop. When she relaxed, he pushed his hand in further. He felt a calf's head, in the right position for delivery, a tail and another leg. Twins, one head forward, one breech. Head forward one first, if he could work out which leg belonged to which calf. He thought, based on the jumble of limbs and torsos, that the head forward one was lowest, and that by working his 35


way backwards, following that calf's limbs back out, that he could do it. "Brace me," he said over his shoulder, tractor lights briefly dazzling him, and Ross' arms slid around his waist and chest, fingers digging in as Ross tried to find friction on Geoff's wet skin. "Come on, darling," Geoff crooned to the cow, and the moment she started to strain, he put traction on the calf's hooves, winding his slippery fingers around the tiny bones and tugging. The hooves inched forward, then slid back a little when the cow stopped straining, but the calf had still made progress. Ross didn't ask useless questions, like how long it would take, and Geoff was quietly pleased by that. The cow strained again, Geoff hauled on the calf, the hooves crept forward, the rain blew in Geoff's face and the cow lowed. Behind him, Ross hung on tight while he dragged on the calf, and held Geoff loosely between efforts. "When this is over," Geoff said over his shoulder, while they all rested between strains, "you and me, we are going to get warm somehow." "Promise?" Ross said, nuzzling wetly against Geoff's neck. "Promise," Geoff said, and the cow moaned and lifted her tail, back arched. Geoff's arms were aching and his hands cramping, and the cow presumably felt worse, before the calf's nose and forelegs slipped out, making Geoff stumble backwards. He would have fallen without Ross hanging onto him, fallen backwards in a heap in the mire with an armful of calf. 36


Instead, it was the calf that flopped into the dirt, Ross and Geoff scrambling backwards to give the cow a chance to turn around unimpeded to attend to her calf. The cow was right there, bumping the calf with her nose, lavishing her tongue on the poor bedraggled thing. Geoff hung onto Ross' arm, just in case he was inclined toward interfering, but Ross just hugged Geoff, laughing in the rain. "One down," Geoff said. "Let's get the breech calf out, too. I reckon it'll be easier to move the tractor around than to persuade that cow to move right now." The calf bumbled to its feet, hard-wired instinct pushing it toward its mother's udder. Geoff watched, nodding approvingly, while the calf latched on and suckled. Behind him, the tractor rumbled through the mud and rain, spotlight shifting, casting ragged shadows on the mother and calf, then temporarily plunging the paddock into darkness. The tractor swung around, lighting the cow from behind, and Geoff waded through the mud. Disinfected and re-lubed, he slid a hand into the cow again. He was cold, really cold, now, but Ross must have seen him shivering because he draped a wet Drizabone around Geoff's shoulders and held it in place while Geoff carefully felt around inside the cow, working out how the remaining calf was positioned. At least that hand and arm were warm. Two hooves and a tail: it was a standard breech presentation, nothing tricky like a dropped hip. The mother, however, seemed to be faltering in her labor, and was no longer straining. They were going to have to haul this one out. 37


"Rope," he said. "It is clean, isn't it?" "Wrapped in plastic and labeled 'boiled'," Ross said. "Like I said, it's calving rope." "Open it up," Geoff said. Ross ripped open the packaging and held the bundle out to Geoff without touching the contents, and Geoff smiled at him. "Not a complete idiot," Ross said. "I spent a week here two years ago, helping at calving time." "I never thought you were an idiot," Geoff said. "Not having some quite complicated skills, perhaps, but that's a different matter." The rope was soft nylon, flexing easily, and Geoff eased his second hand into the cow and looped the rope around the calf's hooves, securing it by feel alone. He tugged on it experimentally, and it felt solidly attached, so he put some shoulder into it, struggling to find grip in the mud and rain. Ross' arms wrapped around him tightly, his body right behind Geoff's, giving Geoff the traction he needed to begin to ease the calf out. It was hard work, the rope wound around his hands hurt, and he wasn't cold anymore, despite the rain. Straining like that, dragging that calf out, in bad weather and on a farm with no electricity, it occurred to him that Ross hadn't complained once. He was a city bloke, used to comfort, soft and cultured. Ross' hand, wrapped around the rope in front of Geoff's, was streaked with blood from where the nylon was digging into his flesh, but Ross was panting and heaving with Geoff, still not complaining at all. 38


Breech births were tricky, and the cow bellowed as they hauled and sweated and swore. The calf slid out of the cow in a rush, flopping down into the mud, sending Ross and Geoff sprawling backwards into the muck and slime, too. Geoff floundered and swore, unwinding the rope from his aching hands before scrambling forward to untie the calf's hooves. Best case scenario was that the mother would notice the calf all by herself and mother up to it, getting it breathing. But that wasn't going to happen, so Geoff cleared the calf's mouth and nose with his fingers, then lifted the calf's rear hooves up, raising its whole body, just for a few seconds, to empty its lungs. The calf spluttered and coughed, and the mother turned her head and nudged it with her nose, then licked it. "Sold to the bovine with the saggy uterus," Ross said behind Geoff. "Too right," Geoff said, slipping cold, muddy arms around Ross and resting his head on his shoulder briefly. "Wasn't looking forward to taking on an abandoned calf. If I wanted to be a parent, I'd be shagging girls instead." The calf staggered to its wobbly feet and tottered to the cow's udder, settling in adjacent to its sibling, and Ross kissed Geoff's forehead. "Oh God," Geoff muttered, and Ross' mouth was hard against his, achingly warm against the cold of Geoff's skin. He was shirtless, muddy and freezing cold; kissing Ross might just be the best fucking feeling in the world. 39


The farm was a shambles. The front had hopefully passed; the lightning had tailed off, leaving behind a steady downpour that was drenching everything, and Geoff's teeth were chattering with the cold against the heat of Ross' mouth. "Indoors," Ross said, lifting his mouth off Geoff's to speak, rain streaking down his face still. "Muffy," Geoff said. "I have to put her back in her pen." Ross drove the tractor, Geoff hanging on to the side, on the grounds that Geoff's hands were too cold for him to be able to change gears. They were also too cold for him to manage the bizarre homemade latch on the gate, even when he'd put his wet sweater and mud-caked Drizabone back on, so Ross had to park the tractor in neutral and clamber down to undo the gate. Muffy was sulking resentfully in the tractor shed, Dog beside her. The look she gave Geoff was sullen, and she shaped up to bite him when he reached for her lead. "Don't even think about it," Geoff warned. "I'm in no mood to negotiate with a cranky horse." She curled a lip at him and yanked her head back, but he still got a grip on the lead, winding it around his wrist rather than trusting his frozen fingers. The wind had dropped down to a solid blow, and the night was still wild and wet, but the trees had stopped creaking and debris was no longer blowing randomly past Geoff's feet. He kicked Muffy's gate open and walked her in, and Ross held a torch for him while he unhooked her lead. She squealed when he reached for her halter, jerking away hard, and he let her go. 40


She could stay in a wet halter all night.

41


Chapter Three In the torchlight, Ross could see the guttering had pulled completely away from the edge of the verandah roof, sending a steady stream of rainwater cascading over the lip of the roofing. Ross stared at it, trying to work up the energy to be horrified or surprised, and failing. "Well?" Geoff said, walking toward him from the horse pen where Muffy was swearing in the darkness. "Don't suppose there's any hot water to be had?" Ross flickered the torch at him, and Geoff glanced down. Geoff was filthy, completely caked in mud and blood and cow shit. "Give me a moment," Ross said, stepping through the stream of water, up onto the verandah. He balanced the torch on the windowsill, light shivering up the wall, and stripped off quickly, dropping his sodden clothes on the cane chair beside the back door. The screen door thudded and Dog bounced up to Ross, rear end wagging, and then dived back indoors out of the rain. Ross found a giant stockpot for boiling yabbie in the laundry cupboard, and took it outside to stick under the deluge, Dog bumbling around under his feet. Geoff had got as far as taking off his Drizabone and sweater and was in the process of prising off his boots. When he'd done that, he looked appealingly at Ross, and Ross had to smile. 42


Geoff's belly was chilled when Ross touched it, his jeans riding low on his hips from the weight of the water and mud saturating them. Geoff touched Ross' bare shoulder with a hand clumsy from the cold. "Fuck," Geoff said. "If I wasn't so fucking cold, I'd be creaming my jeans about now." Ross' fingers slid his zipper undone, then flicked his fly button open. "Rinse off under the gutter," Ross said. "I've got the gas heater lit." Inside the back door, torchlight wobbling across the laundry ceiling, Ross draped a blanket around Geoff's shoulders and kissed him quickly. "Go sit in front of the heater," he said. "I'll put the water on to warm." Ross had lit the gas heater in the living room, and it glowed blue and yellow in the darkness, filling the room with fumes and precious warmth. Geoff was huddled in front of it when Ross came back. "There's not a lot of LPG in the tank," Ross said, bending down and sliding his arms around Geoff and his blanket. "Hopefully enough to warm you up while I get the fire going." The slow-combustion stove in the living room was rusted and full of ash; Ross hadn't had time to clear it out, and he regretted it once he had to start fiddling around with paper and kindling to get it going. Mallee roots were stacked beside the stove, safely out of the rain, but he had to get some kind of fire going first or the mallee wouldn't catch. Squatting down in front of the fire stark naked, Ross should have felt a little vulnerable at least, but Geoff was huddled over the gas heater, rubbing his hands together, and 43


he felt like an old lover, someone who already knew Ross completely, not a new person in his life. Eugene was five hundred kilometers away and completely irrelevant at that moment. "My hands are tingling," Geoff said. "I think I've still got some circulation." The kindling caught at last, flames licking up around the jarrah splinters, so Ross opened the back vent on the stove and closed the front up. The kettle on the stove in the kitchen burbled and glugged, which was close as it came to whistling. Geoff was dozing, or miles away, when Ross put the mug down in front of Geoff. "Drink this." "Whiskey?" Geoff said hopefully, picking up the steaming mug and sniffing it. "Not a chance," Ross said. "Alcohol is a vasodilator, you'll just shed more heat from your skin." He'd put a large amount of honey in the hot water, making it intensely sweet, but Geoff didn't complain. "That's what I need," Geoff said. "That and to sleep." "We need to clean up first," Ross said. He carried the vat of warmed water from the kitchen stove and put it beside the gas heater. He located soap and towels worn thin with age in the unlit bathroom, along with threadbare wash cloths. "Not too warm?" he asked Geoff, wringing one of the wash cloths out in the vat and wiping it across Geoff's cheeks, taking away some of the grime. "No, feels good," Geoff said. He took the other washcloth, dunked it in the vat, and wiped Ross' chest. 44


It did feel good, having someone else wash him, gentle touches and warm water. Ross wiped Geoff's face and neck, then his chest, cleaning mud and grit out of his chest hair. Geoff's chest was solid, thick ridges of pectoral muscles, and he smelt of sweat and dirt. Ross leaned forward and kissed the top of Geoff's chest, then rubbed his face gently against Geoff's chest hair. They both groaned. The washcloth slid down Ross' back, encouraging him closer, so Ross licked at one of Geoff's nipples, flicking his tongue, then rubbed the nipple between his lips. "Oh God," Geoff groaned. "That's some kind of torture." "Want me to stop?" Ross asked, mouth muffled by the nipple he was tonguing. "Cold balls," Geoff said, sounding strained, and Ross glanced down. Geoff was cradling his crotch with his other hand. "Lie down, I can help," Ross said, trying and failing at not grinning at Geoff's predicament. Geoff was grinning, too, when he lay back on the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. "Can you?" he said. Ross wrung the cloth out again, wiped it carefully around Geoff's balls, and then ran it over his cock. Geoff was having a damned good go at getting hard, despite being so cold, and Ross was impressed. He tossed the cloth onto the floor and leaned forward. Geoff's balls were pulled up hard against his body, almost retracted, so Ross blew warm air across Geoff's wrinkled 45


sack, making Geoff squirm. "Stop it," he said in a tight voice. "Ticklish." Ross lapped wetly at the wrinkled skin, the flat of his tongue pressed against Geoff, and Geoff groaned, a sound halfway between pain and ecstasy. It was just going to get better. Sucking gently, Ross coaxed one of Geoff's balls into his mouth, and Geoff shouted, this time with pure pleasure. It was the best cure ever for cold balls, the combination of heat and suction was guaranteed to fix any lunatic mid-winter jogger's blues, making his balls burn with fire. Geoff swore a steady stream of words that made Ross want to laugh if he could have done it without causing at least one of them an injury. When he slid his mouth across to the other ball, he glanced up the length of Geoff's body. Geoff was gorgeous, the kind of abs that Eugene hankered after and that drove Eugene to insane lengths in the gym, dark trail of hair leading from Geoff's chest to his groin. And his cock... Geoff had warmed up, made obvious by the stunning thickness and length of his cock, solid ridge of uncut need, lying across his belly. Ross captured Geoff's ball in his mouth, the one he hadn't warmed up, and Geoff thrashed around, groaning and clutching at Ross' damp hair. Geoff didn't tug on his hair, made no attempt to move his mouth, so Ross decided to assume that what he was doing felt good. "Fuck," Geoff groaned, and that time the hands were lifting Ross' head up. "That seems to have done the trick." 46


His voice was hoarse, the hand that moved to cup Ross' cheek was large and rough, but the touch was gentle. Ross leaned forward a little and pressed his mouth at the base of Geoff's cock, then crept slowly up on his knees, dragging his mouth the length of Geoff's cock. "Yeah," Geoff breathed, and his mouth was curled in a grin and his eyes were half-closed when Ross glanced up. "Feels so good." Clear pre-come leaked from Geoff's cock, welling up and pooling in his belly hair, and Ross slid his tongue across the head of Geoff's cock and pressed his mouth down to suck up the drops. Geoff bucked under Ross, gasping, so Ross stopped teasing and pushed the head of Geoff's cock into his mouth. "March twenty-seven, last year," Geoff moaned. "Gnngh. That's the last time..." Geoff was unbearably hard in Ross' mouth, thick enough to stretch his lips, eager enough to be jabbing the back of Ross' throat immediately. It hadn't been fourteen months for Ross, but Geoff's desperate responses were intoxicating, turning Ross on, and making him harder than he'd been for a long time, all without being touched. He cupped Geoff's balls in one hand and concentrated on sucking hard and slow, making each drag up and down Geoff's cock long and wet, making Geoff's thigh muscles tremble beneath Ross' shoulder. The rain drummed against the iron sheeting of the roof, cold crept across the floor where the heater and wood fire 47


hadn't reached yet, and Ross could hear Dog whining at the back door, asking to be let in. Geoff's hand settled on Ross' hair again, not to tug and pull this time, just to stroke carefully. Such a gentle, unexpected touch made Ross' chest tighten a little. It was probably longer than fourteen months since someone had touched him with such kindness; and something a little sad in that thought made him squeeze Geoff's balls tighter. "Babe," Geoff gasped, and then he yelled inarticulately. The first pulse of come went straight down Ross' throat, making him choke a little; the second was on an upstroke and ran down his chin and by the third, Ross was on top of things again, sucking hard, dragging Geoff's orgasm out for him, letting him down slowly, licking and fluttering. Geoff whimpered, making Ross lift his head from Geoff's softening cock and grin, and then wipe the come from his face. "Good?" Ross asked. "Yeah," Geoff breathed. "My shout this round, I believe." Crawling up Geoff's body made Ross feel small. Geoff was wider than him: hips, chest, shoulders, and those wonderful hands. Geoff was strong enough to scoop Ross up and shift him onto the blanket, as well, settling beside Ross and running his hand down Ross' chest with the same gentle touch. He kissed Ross, mouth breathing across his lips first, tentatively making contact, hand fluttering across Ross' belly, making goose bumps prickle across his skin, almost tickling but not quite. 48


It was electric, so that when Geoff's fingers brushed across the tip of Ross' cock, Ross gasped against Geoff's mouth. Geoff's tongue slid against Ross', kissing him thoroughly, adding heat to the orange glow of the gas fire through Ross' eyelids. Then Geoff's mouth was gone, slipping down Ross' neck and chest, tongue tasting each nipple in turn, cooling trail of saliva streaking across Ross' skin. The very tip of Geoff's tongue drew a line of teeth-gritting delight down Ross' cock, and then Geoff's mouth descended on Ross' inner thigh, kissing, then sucking and nipping. "Oh God ... please. Gonna..." Ross pleaded. Geoff's teeth nipped one last time, hard enough to make Ross squirm, then the warmth of his breath moved across Ross' skin, to his cock. "Hang on, babe," Geoff murmured, then his tongue was wet and hot on Ross' cock, licking and teasing before his mouth slid down the length. Ross was wound tight, so turned on he could barely breathe, the combination of sucking, touching and a finger sliding into his arse was irresistible. Sharp pleasure shot through him, he ached inside from the need to come, and it was all too much. He came, shouting and gasping, the ache letting go, leaving him still and quiet, contentment rushing through his body. Geoff moved up, pulling the blanket around Ross' shoulders, wrapping them both up. "Was that good?" Geoff asked. 49


Ross slid his arms around Geoff's neck and sighed. "Yeah." The room smelled of gas, the scent nudging at Ross until he opened his eyes and checked the heater. The flame was guttering, flickering and fading, as the tank emptied. "Hang on," he said sleepily, rolling out of the blanket to turn the gas supply to the heater right off. "Have you got another swag?" Geoff asked, sitting up and rubbing at his face, then yawning. It took effort to get his wobbly knees to work, but Ross managed to collect the sleeping bag and blankets off the spare bed in the darkness, and he dropped them on the floor beside Geoff. A cold, damp draught of air whistled through the room, making him glad to crouch down in front of the wood stove and open the glass door. He packed the grate with mallee roots, half-closed the damper, and sealed the door. Geoff had efficiently turned the bundle of blankets and sleeping bag into a swag; it was even more of a pleasure to slide under the bedding beside him. Dog whined at the back door, noise clear over the drum of the rain, making Ross push the bedding back again resignedly. "I'll do it," Geoff said. A moment later a wet and relieved Dog bounced into the room, licked Ross, then flopped onto the wood stove's hearth. "Sorry, Dog," Ross said apologetically. "I blame Geoff, he distracted me." "I did?" Geoff said, crawling under the bedding in the dark. 50


"Yeah." Lying there, rain rattling at the windows, being held by Geoff while the bedding began to warm up, felt better than it had any reason to. Geoff breathed out deeply, slipping into sleep immediately, his arm limp across Ross' ribs, but Ross stayed awake for a while. He still had the issue of Eugene to think over, though his mind kept slipping away from the topic, back to how content he felt right at this moment. He would phone Eugene in the morning, tell him it was over. Dog farted and Geoff mumbled in his sleep. Ross closed his eyes, shutting out the faint light of the wood stove. He was too tired to worry about it right then.

51


Chapter Four Geoff knew a lot about mornings. When he was droving, moving mobs of cattle or sheep around the outback to better pasture or a trucking depot, he woke at first light, along with the rest of the camp. In winter, when he was home, he woke to the clatter of the stove in the kitchen and the sound of his parents talking, just after first light. This was not first light. The curtains in Ross' living room had been left open, and the light shining through the window was tremulously bright, shimmering off pooled rainwater. Birds were calling: honeyeaters, black cockatoos, pink and gray galahs. The rain had stopped, leaving behind the clear tinkle of failed guttering and dripping rooflines. Ross slept, curled up beside Geoff, mouth open, face still grimy and hair matted. In the light, his stubble was dark against pale skin, the stretch of skin behind his jaw and down his neck fragile to kiss. Ross stirred, rolling over a little and muttering when Geoff slid his hand across Ross' hip to settle over his morning hardon. Geoff's cock was just as hard, jammed up against the crack of Ross' arse, driving Geoff crazy. "C'mon, babe," Geoff whispered. "Time to wake up." Ross grunted and stretched. "No," he replied, and then he groaned as Geoff's hand curled tighter around his cock. "Do you want to change that to a 'yes'?" Geoff murmured against Ross' neck. "Want me to fuck you?" Ross' cock pulsed in Geoff's hand, and Ross whispered, "Yes." 52


This bypassed a whole shit load of rules about sex, about negotiations and risk assessment and disclosure, but absolutely none of that had anything to do with the way Geoff felt right at that moment. He was so turned on he could barely breathe, so hungry to hold and touch Ross, to be inside him, and he'd never felt like that before. "Yes," Ross said again, voice steadier. Geoff reluctantly let go of Ross' cock and reached between their bodies for his own aching cock. He had to pull back a little, then the head of his cock kissed Ross' arse. He was leaking, fluid oozing out, struggling not to just shoot right there and then, which meant when he slid his fingers to the base of his cock and squeezed, milking himself, his cock drooled copiously. He slid his fingers back to just beneath the head, pinching hard to steady his nerves, giving a tiny rock to spread the fluid between them. He pushed forward fractionally, easing the tip of his cock into the hot flower, Ross' body engulfing him slowly. Dog bounded across the pair of them for the back door, yapping happily, and a voice called out, "Coeee, anyone awake?" The back door rattled, and Ross dragged himself away from Geoff with a groan. "Clothes," he gasped. Of course, all of their clothes were sodden and muddy on the back verandah. Ross dived for the hallway, reappearing a moment later and managing to simultaneously drag on a pair of oversize jeans and toss another pair at Geoff. 53


Ross grabbed a sweater from the back of a chair and pulled that over his head, paused only to grin at Geoff, then bolted for the back door as footsteps made their way around the verandah. Geoff spared a moment to bury his head in the bedding they'd been wrapped in and make a silent promise to his cock that he'd finish what had been started, then kicked the blankets off and slid the jeans on. They didn't hang on him like they did Ross, only bagged, and with the iron in his cock right at that moment, he needed the coverage. He'd been so close to heaven. The back door opened and Geoff could hear Ross say, "Morning, Tom." Geoff found a shirt in the mess in the living room, dumped on the coffee table, so he put it on. It wasn't Ross', since it was big enough, and it would do. "Young Ross. We've had a bit of a blow, haven't we? Thought I'd pop around, make sure you're right." Male voice, deep and gruff. Geoff did up enough buttons so as he didn't actually look like they'd been shagging a moment before. "Dead set," Ross said. "Bugger..." His voice trailed off. "I'll put the word out you've got a mess here, shall I? Get some folks around here to give you a hand." It was bright in the slanting sunlight, light bouncing off every surface, and Geoff squinted as he pushed the screen door open and stepped out into the light. "Morning, Tom," Geoff said, recognizing the farmer dressed in muddy overalls from the pub and meetings. 54


The yard between the house and the sheds was a shambles, under water and littered with tree branches. The gum that had fallen during the storm had been at least twenty meters tall; they wouldn't be getting any of the vehicles out of the yard until that had been dealt with. The guttering was sagging freely from the verandah edge, still trickling. It was a mess. "Ah, you've got Arthur's boy here," Tom said, holding a hand out for Geoff to shake. "Good to see you, Geoff. Young Ross needs a jackaroo here." Ross scratched his wild hair and yawned. "Sorry, we were asleep; we were up through the night with the storm and calving." "Thought you had some strife," Tom said. "Saw the tractor lights in your front paddock during the storm. Spotted two pretty little calves on my way in, a nice little pair." Geoff said, "Have you got power? Are we the only people blacked out?" "All of Bringo Springs is without power," Tom said. "The Fossetts next door said the Northern Gully substation is offline, and a tree had brought down one of the lines." He looked speculatively at the sagging power line that looped across the yard to the house. "Looks like your lines in place. Your bull's in my cattle. Think you could come and get him later?" Ross glanced at Geoff and shrugged. "Sure, we'll be down as soon as we can. Sorry 'bout that." Tom nodded, and he didn't look unhappy. Geoff had checked the bull out the previous day, the bull had beautiful 55


conformation, and Tom wouldn't have to compensate Ross' grandfather for any calves conceived from the escapee. It was a damned sight cheaper for him than buying semen. "This afternoon is good," Tom said. "You blokes have got plenty to do here." "Thanks," Ross said, and Tom nodded and whistled for his own dog, which appeared from behind the tractor shed, followed closely by Dog. "Ooroo," Tom said, raising a hand in greeting, then setting off to wade across the water-logged yard to where his Land Rover was parked on the other side of the tree, the dogs bounding after him. Ross leaned against the doorframe and smiled ruefully. Geoff had to smile back at him. "That was close," Ross said, and Geoff wasn't sure whether he was referring to Tom turning up or the interrupted fuck itself. Standing there, reflections from the puddles rippling up the wall of the house, breath condensing in the cold air, Ross looked lost somehow. Geoff thought he understood. "Hey," he said gently, touching Ross' cheek then smoothing his flyaway hair. "We can talk about this." With no LPG left, Geoff crouched in front of the wood stove and stirred the embers, opened the vents and added kindling, then mallee root fragments. The kettle from the kitchen stove balanced on top of the wood stove, and with the vents open it began to hum and burr almost immediately. Ross sat cross-legged on the bedding they'd been buried in so recently and held out a hand to Geoff. 56


Geoff sat facing Ross, cradling his hand. "Do you want me to apologize?" he asked. Ross shook his head. "No. I wanted you to fuck me. I still do." "And the problem with that is?" Geoff asked. "That there'd be the trust between us," Ross said, and they were back at all the things that weren't being said. "But there is," Geoff said, lifting Ross' hand to his mouth and kissing the palm, scraped and raw from the calving rope. When he leaned forward to kiss Ross' mouth, he more than half expected Ross to keep talking, but words were overrated compared to touches. "Do you want me to fuck you?" Geoff whispered, when Ross lay back on the rumpled bedding, his legs tangled with Geoff's, head twisted to one side to expose his neck to Geoff's mouth. "There's something..." Ross whispered back. "Something I want you to do to me." "Tell me," Geoff whispered, "and I will." Ross' lips pressed against Geoff's ear, secretive, and he said, "Make me come, then fuck me with my come on your cock." Geoff's cock, already so hard it hurt, throbbed at the whispered words. Ross' eyes were closed when Geoff lifted himself up and slid to one side, his hand pulling at the fly of Ross' oversize jeans. Ross looked embarrassed, flushed redder than just the heat from the wood fire and the kisses would justify, vulnerability in the set of his mouth. 57


In the daylight, grime still streaking his milk skin, Ross was frangible. Ross' breath caught as Geoff pushed his jeans off and bunched his sweater up. It took a moment to for Geoff to shed his own clothes and drag a blanket over both of them. He should close the curtains, too, but that would have meant moving too far away from Ross and his kisses. Geoff touched Ross' inner thigh, and slid his hand higher, parting Ross' legs. Ross whimpered when Geoff cupped his balls and then pressed fingers against the flesh behind, rubbing at the root of his cock, finding the places that ached. "Oh God," Ross said, wrapping a hand around his own cock and squeezing tightly. "Don't hurt yourself," Geoff murmured, moving his hand so it covered Ross' and unwinding his fingers. "Let go, babe." Ross did, raising his hands above his head, arching his back and pushing his cock deeper into Geoff's hands, making Geoff groan and rub his own cock against Ross' hip in frustration. "Come for me, babe," Geoff whispered, nuzzling at Ross' hair. "Come for me, so I can rub your come over my cock and fuck you so hard. Gonna push your come inside you, all slippery on my cock..." Ross moaned and twisted, grabbed at Geoff's cock and bit his arm hard, come spurting across his belly, pooling on his skin and trickling down his hip. "Watch," Geoff said. He waited until Ross had blinked and made his eyes focus again, then propped himself up on his elbows. 58


Carefully, so as not to waste a precious drop, Geoff scooped up the come, capturing it as it spread. Equally carefully, he spread the come thickly over the head of his cock, smearing the skin wetly and then licking his fingers clean. Ross' eyes were fixed on Geoff's cock, widening a little when Geoff gripped the base of his cock and slid the skin forward, pushing up so his foreskin slid over the head of his cock, trapping the come. "Roll over," Geoff said, because the feel of Ross' come cooling, the idea of it, might just be the biggest fucking turnon Geoff had ever felt. He needed to come, right that moment, needed to be inside Ross to do it. Ross rolled over, hitching one leg up and exposing his pale arse, the darker skin around the entrance to his body standing out like a target. Keeping a painfully firm grip on his cock, Geoff clambered over Ross. The tip of his cock brushed against the thicker skin, and he could feel Ross' body react, tightening momentarily. "Ready for me?" Geoff asked, but Ross' hands gripping and pulling at the blankets beneath them were answer enough; he didn't need to hear the anything else. Geoff pushed forward, holding the head of his cock against Ross' body so that the resistance Ross' peeled his foreskin back slowly as he eased in. Geoff was breathing hard, laboring with the effort of not just ramming himself inside Ross, and sweat was trickling down his chest. It was slick inside Ross, the head of his cock slipping in steadily, until it had popped inside. Working the 59


shaft of his cock into Ross was slower, the come had spread thin and Geoff had to take it very carefully, one hot fraction of a centimeter at a time. He was making a lot of noise; they both were. Ross groaned with each push, lifting his hips a little with each movement, meeting Geoff halfway, until Geoff was buried deep inside Ross, fully encased in the sweetest, hottest arse he'd ever met. He began to rock, gentle movements, not dragging inside Ross, just sliding a little, using the slip in the skin of his cock. "Gonna come," Geoff whispered, his weight pressing down on Ross, so that Ross was completely covered. "You ready for me to come?" Geoff's hand found one of Ross', intertwining their fingers, and he paused, teetering right on the edge. Ross squeezed his hand. "Come for me," Ross gasped. "Oh, fuck, make me come, too." It was an additional, unexpected pleasure, to know that Ross was so hot from what they were doing that he was going to come again, making Geoff hang on for one last desperate moment while he slid an arm around Ross, under his chest, and rolled them both onto their sides. Ross was hard, still or again, and Geoff wound his hand around Ross' cock and stroked him roughly. Ross ground back against Geoff's body, pushing Geoff's cock in as deep as it would go, making Geoff grunt with pleasure. He was about to come, had been there for longer than he would have thought possible, and waiting was no longer an option. 60


He began to jab into the heat: short, sharp moves against the wet grip of Ross' body, crying out with each movement, blind and deaf to everything except the excruciating ecstasy building higher and higher inside him. The first throb of coming was the sweetest relief as his body finally let go, and he fell into it, sweating and shaking. He must have stopped stroking Ross' cock, because Ross' hand clamped over his, jerking hard. Staying where he was, still deep inside Ross, his cock slowly beginning to soften, the weariness and warmth after coming filling his body, feeling Ross coming, every throb of his body, was the best thing Geoff had ever felt. On the wood stove, the kettle hissed and bubbled, the only sound in the room apart from their labored breaths and the crackle of the fire. Geoff pulled the blanket back over both of them, tucking it around Ross' shoulders, and nosed aside the mess of Ross' hair to find the base of his neck. "Want me to pull out?" he asked quietly. If they waited for him to soften enough to slip out, they might be there awhile, because his cock was definitely still wide awake and interested. "Yeah," Ross said. "Kinda sore." Geoff kissed the base of Ross' neck and pulled away gently, easing himself out. Ross rolled over, burying his face against Geoff's neck, and Geoff held him tightly. Geoff ignored the mountain of work to be done; this was more important. "What happens now?" Ross asked, voice muffled. 61


"Coffee," Geoff said. "And some food because I'm starving. Then I'm going to get dressed and wash my face, and go find a chainsaw. I need to go back to my folks' farm today, to collect Dino and some clothes, and I can't do that until I've moved the tree that's blocking the track." "Who, or what, is Dino?" Ross asked, propping himself up so Geoff could see his face. "Dino is a bay Australian Stock Horse gelding, fifteen hands, sweetest ride imaginable, present company excepted," Geoff said, stroking a dirt-stained fingertip over Ross' cheek. "I'll bring him back in the float, put him in with Muffy." "How will Muffy feel about that?" Ross asked, smile curling his lips. "Muffy will be charmed," Geoff said, smiling, too. "Seduced even, at least at a theoretical level. She will become placid and obliging, and will no longer bite you. And after I've cleared the track, collected Dino, retrieved your grandfather's wandering bull, fed and watered the stock and got the electric fencing back online once the power supply is restored, you and I are going to climb back into these blankets, and you're going to tell me what else you want me to do to you." Ross' smile widened, but he didn't drop his gaze. "I can't believe I asked you to do that," he said, coloring a little. "I can't believe you did it." Ross kissed the tip of Geoff's nose, making him rub at it, and sat up. "Coffee, then food." ****

62


The chainsaw was an intermittent drone in the background, revving up and screaming through the gum, then idling while Geoff moved the wood. Ross watched him out of the kitchen window, until Geoff spotted him through his safety goggles and waved. In the bathroom, Ross brushed his teeth and untangled his hair, then plaited it. He desperately, urgently needed a shower. He was grimy and grubby, smelling of sweat and sex. And his arse ... Ross lifted his face, trying to see if he looked any different, and he didn't really, just unshaven, not-clean and so fucking smug. He'd never asked anyone to do what he'd asked Geoff. He'd never had unprotected sex before. He'd never felt, really felt, someone come inside him; it was the best feeling ever. The feeling of Geoff sliding into him, knowing it was his own come he was feeling, then the unbelievable wetness... Oh God, they might have gotten dressed and had some food, made a start on the day, but Ross' cock was still firmly in bed, never at less than half-mast; it was back again, fully hard. The back door creaked and banged, and Ross pulled his sweater lower, to cover the front of his jeans. Not that Geoff would complain; they'd probably wind up back in bed. "There you are," Geoff said, appearing behind Ross in the mirror. "Track's clear, if you want to start feeding the stock. I'm going to check on the calves again, then go and fetch Dino. Is there anything you need me to collect?" "Don't think so," Ross said, turning around to hug Geoff. "Unless you're driving past an LPG depot?" 63


"That'll have to wait until we drive to town," Geoff said. When Geoff's truck had chugged out of the yard, Dog barking farewell, Ross picked up the phone to call Eugene. He hoped the phone would be dead, knocked out by the storm as well, but the dial tone was there. He rang Eugene's mobile, got put through to his voicemail. "Hi Eugene," he said. "Call me, please, at the farm. It's really important." He put the phone down and took a deep breath. Breaking up with someone by voicemail was bad form, but it would have been convenient and Ross had been tempted. No, he owed Eugene the courtesy of a personal call and some kind of attempt at an explanation. Slopping across the sodden yard a few minutes later, the smell of freshly cut gum tree hanging in the bright morning air, Ross felt so happy that his chest hurt. Muffy came over to investigate her feed trough when Ross poured chaff into it, standing close enough that he was able to stroke her neck, and she didn't pull away. "Hey, sweetie," he said gently. "Want me to take off your blanket?" She bumped him with her nose, then dropped her muzzle back to her trough, and didn't flinch when he slid a hand down her chest to the buckle. He slipped the heavy blanket off her, making her skip sideways a little and shake herself, but he saw no resentment in her eyes. They were making progress. The new mother and her calves were tucked away in the middle of the herd, amidst a flurry of mud-marked hooves and legs, stopping Ross from getting close enough to sex the 64


calves, but the mother rushed up to the feeder with the rest of the cattle, her babies bumbling along behind her, and that was a good sign. If she had an infection or a prolapsed uterus, she'd be off her feed. The paddock was a morass of wet sand, but only fifteen hours after the rain, and already a faint sheen of green had appeared across the red mud, the first sign of the new feed growing in. Soon the cattle wouldn't need hand feeding. Dog bounded out into the paddock, following the tractor, then decided it was all too much like hard work in the wet mud and jumped up onto the tractor to catch a ride. Ross got as far as dragging the Furphy through the mud of the front paddock, the tractor sending lumps of dirt through the air as it churned through the muck, before Geoff's truck, towing a horse float, stopped inside the farm gate. The track was a mess; even with four-wheel drive, the truck wasn't going to manage to drag a laden horse float through the dirt. Ross hopped back on the idling tractor and watched as Geoff climbed out of the truck and opened the float. The horse that backed out of the float was beautiful, stepping backward out into the open and holding still while Geoff slid up onto his unsaddled back, one hand resting on his mane. Geoff waved to Ross, guiding his horse toward the top of the paddock and the gate to the yard. Sitting there, Dog beside him, the sun warm through his shirt, Ross felt more connected to his life and to the world than he ever had before. 65


He over-intellectualized things, over-thought and underfelt, and it was time he stopped.

66


Chapter 5 Muffy was less than happy when Geoff undid the gate to her pen and shooed Dino through, backing away and flipping her ears back. Dino, on the other hand, was used to droving, to being put in with a mob of horses and getting along. He blew air out at her, shook his head to rearrange the tufts of his mane, and went to check the feed and water situation. "Hang on, hang on," Geoff said. "She'll bite you if you do that." He'd tossed Dino's portable troughs in the back of his truck, and it only took a moment to hang them over the top rail of the fence. When he and Dino were droving, the troughs hung over the edge of the truck, but the fence was sturdy enough to hold them. He dragged the plastic carton of pellets off the back of the truck and humped it into the shed beside the pen, Dino calling happily at the sight of the box. "All right, all right," Geoff called out from inside the shed, unclipping the box and filling a scoop. Dino harrumphed plaintively, and when Geoff walked out of the shed, pellets in a bucket, Dino was jammed into the nearest corner of the pen, leaning as far over the railing as he could manage, eagerly waiting. "Muffy first," Geoff said. "It's her pen." Muffy moseyed over when Geoff put a few pellets in her trough, one hand planted firmly on Dino's nose to stop him from stealing. Muffy snuffled the new feed approvingly, and Geoff could hear her crunching at the pellets while he poured the feed into Dino's trough. 67


Geoff slung his arm across Dino's neck while Dino scoffed his feed. "You and me need to talk," he said, resting his face against Dino, who paused long enough to butt him in the belly before returning to his pellets. "I've met this bloke, guess you'll meet him soon, too. He's something special, so fucking hot, like I've never met before. Anyway, I'd appreciate it if you could get along with him, because I'm not planning on letting him slip away." Dino sighed horsily, checking his trough one last hopeful time, then bumped his nose against Geoff's foot. "You're restless, aren't you?" Geoff said. "Stuck in a paddock on the folks' farm. We're going droving later; you'll like that." The tractor trundled into the yard, still dragging the ruined trailer with the Furphy tank, and the moment it stopped, Dog bounded off the tractor and across the yard, splashing through the still-dissipating water. Dino put his nose down to sniff Dog, Dog sniffed back, and Ross splashed across, too. "This is Dino," Geoff said. "Dino, this is Ross." "Hey there, Dino," Ross said. Dino lifted his head and dropped it over the railing, and Ross stroked his cheek. "Good to meet you." Dino blew air happily at Ross, and pulled his head back to nudge Geoff. Geoff leaned over the fence and tugged on Ross' arm to move him closer, within kissing distance. "Fuck, this morning was amazing," he said against Ross' mouth. 68


It wasn't ideal circumstances for kissing, with a fence between them and a dog clambering wetly between their feet, but Geoff could have put up with that in exchange for the sweetness and Ross' mouth. What he couldn't put up with was Dino pushing his way in, muzzle shoved hard against Geoff's face, making Ross squawk and Geoff swear. Dino smirked when Geoff pushed him away, and Geoff said, "You and me, words, horse." He slipped through the fence, wiping horse slobber from his neck. "What's next?" Ross asked. "We'd better go retrieve this bull," Geoff said. "What I'd really like to find is that the damned thing is show ring trained and will walk on a halter and lead." Ross shrugged. "I have no idea, Granddad never mentioned showing the cattle." Geoff looked around the yard; decaying house, no water, crumbling sheds, ramshackle fencing. "Can't imagine he'd show any of the stock," Geoff said. "Doesn't strike me as that kind of a codger. What do you know about riding?" Ross shrugged. "Um, not much." Snagging his thumbs into the belt loops of Ross' jeans, Geoff pulled him closer, with no horse within slobbering range this time. "You gotta be relaxed on a horse," Geoff said, his stomach flipping as their bodies brushed together. "Think I can help you with that?" The tack shed beside the horse pen had a solid workbench in it, along with sacks of feed in sealed drums and a rack of 69


tack, so Geoff pushed aside the curry combs then lifted Ross up onto the bench. "Relaxed?" Ross asked, trying not to laugh while he unbuckled his belt. "If you relax me enough, I might just slide out of the saddle." "Not on Dino," Geoff said as he tossed his Akubra onto an empty post on the saddle rack. "I've ridden him blind drunk; he won't let you fall." Ross had dressed properly at some stage, he had city boy briefs on under his jeans, snug and tight, holding his cock against his belly, but they peeled down easily. He smelt good when Geoff pressed his face against Ross' belly and breathed in, he smelled of come and fuck and sweat. Tenderness welled up inside Geoff, the longing to just hold Ross for hours and hours, making him giddy when he glanced up at Ross' face. Ross stroked Geoff's face, a week's worth of stubble, and it was hard to breathe for a moment, until he bent over and took Ross' cock into his mouth. Some things were complicated, some weren't. Ross moaned, making Geoff smile, then it became a serious matter of getting the angles right, one arm wrapped securely around Ross' hips, the other hand working in amongst the folds of denim and the stretch of underwear to find Ross' skin. Ross' arse would probably be tender, so Geoff rubbed his fingertips behind Ross' balls as he sucked. That had been the sum total of Geoff's sexual experiences for the past few years, blow jobs on the run, short term answers to long term 70


needs. This time was different, making Geoff keep his touch gentle and the slide of his mouth slow. The horses shuffled around in the pen beside the shed, a crow called not too far away, Ross' fingers stroked the back of Geoff's neck and his breathing was loud in the tin shed. Geoff was turned on, no way he could be anything else with Ross' cock nudging into his mouth and the smell of Ross' body filling Geoff's nose, but Geoff could wait at least a little while, until he'd had a wash. Right then, he wanted Ross to feel as good as he could possibly manage. "Yeah," Ross whispered, and Geoff smiled around the base of Ross' cock when he felt Ross' stomach muscles tighten. "So fucking good." Ross' breath rasped, his fingers dug into Geoff's shoulders, and Geoff stopped sliding and concentrated on sucking. It worked, if Ross' groans were any guide, and Geoff waited until Ross had stopped oozing come into his mouth, then lifted his mouth slowly off. Ross was sprawled back across the bench, leaning against the tin wall of the shed, eyes closed and mouth lopsidedly smiling. "Hold that thought," Geoff said, wiping his face on the sleeve of his shirt. "I'm going to go saddle up Dino." He rearranged his own cock inside his jeans, glad he'd found time to change into his own clothes and underwear when he'd collected Dino. Riding in jeans with a hard-on and no underwear was a bloody nuisance and led to chafing. Ross appeared in the doorway to the shed, doing his jeans back up again, still smiling goofily, while Geoff rummaged through the tack he'd thrown into the back of his truck. 71


Geoff tossed Dino's favorite rope bridle over his shoulder and walked back through the puddles and mud to Ross. "Relaxed?" he asked. They kissed, and Ross' mouth lingered across Geoff's neck. "Yeah," he said. Geoff smiled, too, and then whistled to Dino. Dino, who only considered fences as a quaint human habit, hopped over the railed fence of the horse pen and trotted over to Geoff. Ross blinked and said, "Bloody hell," which made Geoff laugh as he slid Dino's bridle over the horse's muzzle and up over his ears. "Dino works without a bit," Geoff explained. "It's kinder to his mouth, and he's happier. Means you don't have to work so hard to control him." "Don't they have to have a bit?" Ross said. "There are lots of things that are done to horses that aren't necessary," Geoff said, taking a saddle pad out of the truck and slinging it over Dino's back. "Dino is unshod, for instance." "I thought they had to be shod," Ross said, so Geoff beckoned him over. "Hoof, Dino," Geoff said, tapping Dino's nearest foreleg, then pulling on the chestnut, and Dino lifted his leg obligingly. "See?" Geoff said, catching hold of the foreleg with one hand and running the fingers of his other hand over the hoof surface, dislodging mud and muck. "I keep his hooves trimmed, and he's fine." 72


He let go of the hoof and straightened up, and Dino put it back into the dirt. Geoff wiped his hand on his jeans and said, "Don't try and do that to Muffy. If she's bad-tempered, she might hate having her hooves touched." "I can't think of anything that would induce me to try and touch Muffy's hooves or mouth," Ross said. "Really." "Scratch him here," Geoff said, dragging his nails through Dino's coat, across his chest, making the horse lift his neck in appreciation. Ross rubbed and scratched Dino, and Geoff took Dino's saddle out of the back of his truck and settled it over the saddle pad. "And this is an Australian stock saddle," he said, crouching down to catch the girth where it dangled on the other side of Dino's belly, then pulling it up to thread the straps through the buckles. "It's different from either an English or Western saddle." The neoprene girth pulled tight around Dino, at least until Geoff poked him in the ribs and made him exhale, leaving the girth loose. "Right, that's tight now," Geoff said, adjusting the buckles and taking up the slack. "The rider rides up straight in a stock saddle, and sits to the trot. The faster the horse goes, the further forward the saddle will shift your weight. Just stay relaxed and let Dino do the work." "It can't be that easy," Ross said. "I've watched Granddad ride, and he uses his legs to control Muffy, shifting his feet around to tell her what to do." Geoff checked the stirrup lengths and the bridle fit, then stroked Dino's neck. "Dino is trained to the voice," Geoff said. "Just tell him what to do." 73


"There won't be any fence jumping involved?" Ross asked, and Geoff laughed out loud. "Not for you," he said. "And I can't imagine Muffy is big on jumping. Up you go." He made a cradle with his hands and crouched down. "Are you sure about this?" Ross asked, but Geoff could hear he was trying not to laugh. There was a lightness to Ross, a willingness to enjoy even when faced with mud and dirt and hard work, and Geoff admired that. "Hang onto the front of the saddle," Geoff said, and Ross stuck his left foot onto Geoff's hands and grabbed the saddle, sliding up onto Dino's back when Geoff lifted his weight. The stirrups needed shortening a notch, and Geoff rested his face against Ross' thigh while he adjusted the strap. "Hold the reins loosely," Geoff said. "They're mostly symbolic, with Dino, but he appreciates the gesture." Ross gripped the worn leather strap of the reins in his hand. "Now what?" he asked. "Walk," Geoff said, and Dino lumbered slowly across the yard, Ross laughing delightedly. "Now guide him around with the reins," Geoff called out. Dino circled around the parked cars, past the stack of freshly sawn gum tree trunk. Muffy was watching, head over the railing, eyes mournful, so Geoff went over to her. "Your turn," he said. "Just let me go find your tack." He snagged Muffy's halter with a lead and tied her to the railing, then found a curry comb. He didn't groom horses as a matter of routine, but Muffy was gritty and if he didn't clean under the saddle pad, she'd rub. 74


He found an old felt saddle blanket for her, and a worn stock saddle, the embossing around the edges almost buffed away. It took only a minute to toss the saddle blanket on her, then the saddle. He lifted the saddle blanket a little, over the withers, to make sure she was comfortable, and resettled the saddle. Old horses got sore, and sore horses bit. Muffy was used to a conventional bridle, and she let Geoff slip the bit into her mouth, giving him a quick glance of her mouth and teeth. "You're an old girl, aren't you sweetie," he said to her. "Never mind, I'm not heavy, and we don't have far to go." Geoff had put his stock whip in the cab of his truck, resting in the empty gun rack, and a decent coil of rope in the back. He'd grabbed a halter for the bull, too, from his father's shed, all of which slung across his chest comfortably. Dino strolled up to the pen, Ross still safely on his back, and Geoff called out, "Stop," to the horse while he undid the gate. Muffy, taller than Dino by a hand, let Geoff slide onto her back, even pricking her ears up and lifting her nose in anticipation. "Good girl," he said to her, leaning forward and stroking her neck. "Power's back on," Ross said. "I can see the kitchen lights." Geoff paused, listening. He could hear the south-westerly rattling at the broken gutters, the cattle lowing quietly over the brow of the hill, and the faint sound of fridge and freezer compressors whirring. 75


"Excellent," he said, pressing his heels gently against Muffy's sides. "Walk, Dino. Dog! Up!" Dog appeared, a blur of bluey, and launched himself up into Geoff's lap. Ross' grandfather might have been losing the fight to maintain the farm, but he knew how to train a cattle dog. The warm sun counteracted the winter wind blowing in from the ocean. The air had crystal clarity after the rain, and not even the horses' hooves kicked up dust. Ross jolted along beside Geoff on Dino's back, alternating between relaxed ease and wobbling unsteadiness, which Dino seemed to be taking good-humouredly. Dog licked Geoff's chin, his haunches settled happily on the front of the saddle, his balance more than good enough to cope with the gentle trot they were doing. They rode down the hillside, along what had previously been a race but was now choked with dead weeds, with headhigh gums, planted some years before, struggling through the undergrowth. There were tire tracks from Tom's ute, giving the horses an easy path, but Geoff needed to get into the race, burn off the weeds, clear the snakes out. The paddocks on either side were empty and bare, the dirt lying in corrugated lines that meant at least they'd been disked already, the soil aerated some time in the past few weeks. If they'd been disked, they'd probably been limed, too. The race ran down to the bottom of the property, and opened onto an access laneway, a pot-holed track separated from the race by yet another of Ross' grandfather's 76


homemade gates. If Geoff had been alone and on Dino, he would just have hopped over it, and he could tell by Dino's posture that Dino would have liked to. Ross might not be so happy about that, so Geoff said, "Stop, Dino," and reined in Muffy. He nudged Dog off his lap so he was balanced across Muffy's withers, and slid down, keeping hold of Muffy's reins. The gate's hinges were absent, and both ends were lashed closed with baling wire and twine. It took Geoff a couple of minutes to get the gate undone, and he left it propped open. They'd be bringing a bull back through there, with luck. "Tom's farms there," Ross said, pointing down the lane and up a hill as Geoff remounted Muffy. "The gate to the house is just past the fuel tank." They ambled down the laneway, the horses muttering together occasionally, Dog giving happy little sighs and leaning against Geoff. When Geoff glanced sideways at Ross, he was relaxed back in the saddle, reins loose in his hands, warm smile tickling his lips, making Geoff just want to keep riding beside him, across the sodden farms, as far as they could go. A border collie came hurtling across the paddock toward them as they turned up the track toward the fuel tank, and Dog leapt off Muffy's back, catching Geoff with his rear claws as he dug them in for purchase. "Bloody dog," Geoff said as the two dogs took off across the paddock, scattering sheep.

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Without Dog in front of him, it was easier for Geoff to watch Ross' face, his hair escaping from its plait, eyes squinting against the sun. Tom waved at them from a shed doorway, the two dogs leaping around his legs. "How're things at Rory's?" Tom asked. "Got power back on?" "Power's on," Geoff said. "And we've got the fallen tree moved." Tom nodded and wiped his hands on his work shirt. "Bull's thataway," he said, pointing behind the house. "Couple of paddocks over. He's pretty shagged out." Tom looked smug, contemplating a batch of early autumn calves he hadn't had to pay for no doubt. The gates to Tom's paddocks were conventional, set up so a person on a horse or a motorbike could lean over and open them. Muffy was obliging, shuffling sideways up to the gates so Geoff could undo them, pushing them open with her chest, then turning around to push them closed again, improving Geoff's opinion of her no end. She was a smart horse after all. All Geoff needed to do was move her to decent pasture, take her shoes off, and teach her to ride bitless, and she'd be in equine heaven. A mob of cattle in the second paddock milled around the feeder, far too many cattle for the carrying capacity of the paddock but possibly not for the bull. Tom was smart, he was making the most of the unscheduled services provided by the bull. Geoff whistled for Dog. He'd have a go at pulling the bull 78


out using Dog and Muffy, and if that didn't work, he'd swap to Dino and pick the beast out himself. "Keep a tight hold of Dino's reins," he called out to Ross. "He's going to want to join in." Tom's border collie was hanging back, loitering in the adjacent paddock, but Dog bounded around Muffy's feet, tongue hanging out, eyes darting from the cattle to Geoff and back again, waiting for instructions. Geoff rearranged the stock whip and reins, and made sure the halter was ready across his thighs, then nudged Muffy toward the mob. "Go way back," he called to Dog, who streaked off around the mob of cattle, working the perimeter, waiting for the next command. Muffy trotted across the paddock, ears forward, neck lifted. Geoff nudged her sideways, slipping around the mob, angling toward the bull. The bull did look shagged out; he must have been busy through the night and morning to be dawdling at the feeder instead of inseminating right at that moment. The mob moved, shifting away from Muffy, the horse responding to Geoff's feet, letting him separate out a small cluster of cattle, the bull in the middle. Muffy was responsive, Geoff dug his heels in sharply and made her surge forward, spinning in a flurry of legs and mud, close enough to the group he'd isolated to cut the other cows out.

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"Bring him out!" Geoff shouted to Dog, transferring the reins to his other hand and cracking the whip beside the bull's ear, confusing him. Dog nipped the back of the bull's legs, getting hold of the bull's heels, working the bull out of the group. Isolated, the bull spun rapidly, trying to get at Dog, but Dog slipped around behind him, evading his hooves. Geoff shouted, got a decent crack of the whip onto the bull's shoulder, an action that would have driven the wild Kimberley bulls he was used to working with mad with rage, but that intimidated this overfed, out of condition, domesticated bull. Muffy was breathing loudly, ribs laboring under Geoff's knees, working hard. He pushed her forward, making clicking noises with his tongue to encourage her, and she cantered past the bull, close enough that Geoff could slip the halter on. "Get out!" he shouted, calling Dog back, and Dog dropped back, still within range to nip the bull if needed but no longer harassing him. The halter tightened around the bull's neck, and Geoff spun Muffy around. The bull was too heavy and strong for him to rope; if he put up a fight then Geoff would let the rope play out and use the whip to control him. On Dino, if they were both feeling sprightly, he might have had a go at tipping the bull over, but Muffy was shaking her head and mouthing the bit, and he'd probably pushed her as hard as she was prepared to go. The bull was having a what-the-fuck moment, trying to work out what had just happened, and the pause gave Geoff a chance to recall dusty, tattered show ribbons tacked to the 80


kitchen wall. He'd been too busy watching Ross to pay them any attention, but if the old man didn't show the bull, then the previous owner must have. Which meant the bull was trained to walk on a halter. Something was flickering in the bull's mind, perhaps some idea of rebellion, while Geoff pulled in the rope, making him shake his head a little. "Close," Geoff called to Dog, who slipped up behind the bull, ready to act while Geoff jerked hard on the rope, securing the halter. The bull's eyes blinked, Geoff tugged experimentally on the rope, and the bull took a step forward. Someone, somewhere, had trained the bull, and the bull had forgotten that he'd forgotten. Tom had joined Ross and was leaning against the gate, two people applauding, spatter of hand claps, reminding Geoff that he'd had an audience. He lifted his Akubra and grinned. "Open the gate," he called out, nudging Muffy into a walk. "Move him along, Dog." The bull crept along, one slow step at a time across Tom's paddocks, even with Dog rounding him up and working him gently, but Geoff was happy with that. There was no huge rush and cattle moved better if they weren't hurried.

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Chapter Six Ross slid gratefully to the ground in the yard, his legs wobbling a little, and Geoff's arms were solid around him, steadying him. "You were amazing," Geoff said, and Ross leaned against Geoff's sweat-wet shirt and hugged him back. "I can't believe I got off Dino to fix the race gate, then got back on," Ross said, laughing at the memory of scrambling back onto Dino, Geoff shouting instructions over his shoulder as the bull trundled down the race. Geoff stretched across and patted Dino's neck affectionately. "Dino doesn't bear grudges," he said. "Think you can take Muffy's saddle and bridle off, and top up her water? If I don't take Dino for a gallop, there'll be mutiny." "If I can get back on Dino unassisted, I can do anything," Ross said. Geoff squeezed Ross' arse through his jeans. "Good, because I'm going to need a hand rigging up a temporary board for the electric fences." Geoff's face was rough with stubble and he smelt of horse and sweat, but the kiss was slow and gentle, making Ross ache just a little. Then Geoff was gone, slinging himself up into Dino's saddle with an ease that made Ross' earlier struggles to remount seem ludicrous. Ross stayed where he was for a moment, watching Geoff and Dino take off across the yard, Dino jumping smoothly over the fence to one of the empty paddocks, spraying mud and dirt from his hooves. 82


Muffy let Ross fumble around inexpertly with the buckles, hauling her saddle, blanket and bridle off and balancing them across the fence railing of her yard, and she didn't pull away when he patted her neck. "Do you feel better?" Ross asked. "Was Geoff just what you needed, too?" Muffy exhaled loudly, then rubbed her muzzle across Ross' shoulder. **** The remnants of the pump shed were stacked to one side, a pile of corrugated iron sheeting, two-by-four beams and some wiring, leaving the pump housing exposed. Geoff squatted beside the pump, pliers in his hands, stripping fuse boxes off the board. Ross knelt beside him and held out the handful of dusty fuse boxes he'd found in the tractor shed. "These what you wanted?" he asked. Geoff pushed his Akubra back on his brow with a grubby hand. "Excellent. You realize I'm not actually an electrician, and this work won't pass any kind of inspection?" "Promise I won't tell," Ross said as Geoff prised open an ancient fuse box and set about wiring it to replace one of the fried ones. "Talk to me," Geoff said. "Don't much care what about, I just want to hear your voice." Ross considered. Until Geoff got the fencing back working, the bull was in the main paddock with the other cattle, 83


hopefully too worn out to try and wander, and Ross could keep an eye on him from where he was crouched. "There's a fair bit of academic dispute about happiness," Ross said. "It's a contentious subject, something I don't think the rest of the world appreciates." "Really?" Geoff asked, twisting wires around contacts, then reaching for a screwdriver to screw the new fuse box onto the board. "Really," Ross said. "Some philosophers believe that happiness doesn't actually exist, that it's a lie that is perpetuated by social collusion, something that is dangled in front of people to make them keep working and living, but that they can't possibly achieve." "No happiness?" Geoff asked. "Pass me the pliers from my tool box." Ross handed over the insulated pliers. "That's just one school of thought," Ross explained. "It could be that happiness is incredibly rare. If I believed that behaving in a certain way would entitle me to happiness, perhaps having a decent job, getting married, having some kids, and I did these things, there are a couple of outcomes. I might discover that these things didn't make me happy, and then I could decide that something was wrong with the process. Perhaps I married the wrong woman." "You are speaking hypothetically, aren't you?" Geoff asked, taking a second dusty fuse box off the pile Ross had found. "Because, honestly, I think you like being fucked too much to be straight." 84


"Hypothetically," Ross agreed. "Or, I could decide that what I was feeling was happiness, not middle-aged ennui, and that happiness was actually a pretty dull feeling." "So it doesn't exist," Geoff said. "Or it does and you haven't found it, or it's overrated. Do you really do this for a living?" "I don't think being a grad student is a living," Ross said. "And given that a great deal of human behavior is in pursuit of happiness, I think it's a subject worth examining." "I'm struggling for relevance here," Geoff said. "Pass me the spool of cable behind you. Can't people just tell if they're happy?" "Sounds simple," Ross agreed. "Until the combined forces of the alcohol industry, the mass media and the advertising industry decide to lie to us about happiness. Drink this, wear that, be happy." "And?" Geoff asked. "Are people that stupid?" "Fifty percent of the population has a less than average IQ," Ross said. "It's in the definition. People are that stupid. Do you want to know what I think?" There were bull ants scurrying around the dirt, appearing after the rain, and Ross brushed one off his jeans. "Tell me, and pass me some fuse wire," Geoff said, and then took the pack of fuse wire that Ross found buried in his tool box. "I think happiness exists as an emotional and intellectual state, above and beyond the satisfaction of achieving goals, or the physical pleasure from sex or drugs, though all of these are good things. I think there are moments when the world is 85


so achingly beautiful, when a person feels a certainty about their place in the world and their value, that any other person experiencing the moment would also call the sensation happiness." "Sounds personal," Geoff said, and he looked up from the wiring, eyes on Ross' face. "It is," Ross said. "But how come I didn't know this before? I must have known it as child, I remember coming out here for Christmas, getting sunburnt and bitten by march flies, utterly exhausted from running after the cattle and the dogs..." Ross shook his head. "I knew it, but forgot it." Geoff stood up and held his hand out to pull Ross to his feet, too, and his arms were solid around Ross' shoulders when he hugged him. "I'm not a demonstrative man," Geoff said, his face shadowed by his slouch hat. "But that sounds so sad, and I don't want you to be sad." "I'm not sad," Ross said. "Not anymore." **** Granddad was sitting up in the hospital bed, propped on pillows and surrounded by get well cards, and he held out a bag of chocolates to Ross when Ross had kissed his cheek. "Well?" he asked querulously. "How's Muffy? Any storm damage?" Ross' grandfather's hands were spotted with age and sun exposure, gnarled and callused from a lifetime of work, and Ross took a chocolate and then held his hand. 86


"Muffy is fine, Dog is fine," he said. "The bull escaped when the power went out, and spent a happy few hours inseminating Tom's herd." Granddad huffed unhappily. "Tom always was out for what he could get." "I doubt that Tom managed to orchestrate blacking out the entire district, just to get at the bull. Electric fencing is back on now, bull is back in his pen and Geoff is picking up a drill rig, to re-site the bore." A nurse opened the curtains. "Just need to check your foot, Mr. Dell," he said, making Ross push his chair aside. Ross' grandfather peered dubiously at Ross. "You boys playing hide the sausage?" he asked, and the nurse made a muffled sound as he lifted the sheet and poked at Granddad's foot. "Granddad," Ross said warningly, and the nurse pulled the sheet back down. "Don't mind me," he said. "Your foot's nice and warm, Mr. Dell." When the curtains had closed again, Granddad said, "Well, are you?" Ross grinned. "Um, yeah," he said. "Noreen May is one fine piece of flesh," Granddad said appreciatively. "Not that I ever told your grandmother that, of course, but I'd have put a leg over Noreen given the chance. Guess her son's the same." Ross laughed, he couldn't help it. He knew his grandfather accepted he was gay; he'd taken lovers to a couple of family Christmases at the farm. But reminiscing about wanting to 87


shag Geoff's mother was a level of acceptance that was faintly alarming. "Geoff's hot," Ross said, still grinning. "They tell me that I won't be able to ride Muffy or get on a tractor for a couple of months," Granddad said. "If Geoff is going to be staying with you for that long, you two boys had better move out to the donga. Get Geoff to wire the power across to it, and you can clean it out." The donga was a former-mining company demountable building, a tin box with a bed and an air conditioner, out behind the tractor shed, and it had been disused for years, but it was still a bloody good idea. "Thanks, Granddad," Ross said, and the old man grinned back at him. "I'm too old to have to put up with all the moaning and groaning," Granddad said. "It was bad enough when your mother was a teenager." "Please, no," Ross said. "No more stories about Mum being a tart. How about you tell me which paddocks have been limed and disked, so Geoff and I can put your fodder crop in at the next rains?" **** They had LPG, a brand new tank, and it was a relief to turn on the gas and light the stove. Ross opened the kitchen fridge and investigated the freezer. It didn't look like it had defrosted much while the power had been out, and he was willing to take his chances on food poisoning from the frozen pizzas. 88


He tossed two of them in the oven, and removed Dog from both the fridge and the oven in turn. "Want some dinner?" he asked, ruffling Dog's ears. The 'roo meat in the outside fridge had not fared as well as the pizzas, and Ross put the lid back on quickly. A quick search of the huge chest freezer revealed an entire cow's worth of beef, but nothing labeled "'roo meat" "If I defrost you some rump, you won't tell Granddad?" Ross asked Dog. "Don't want him to think I'm spoiling you." The microwave in the kitchen was not clean, but seemed to work, so Ross tossed a pack of beef into it and set it going, and went out to where Geoff was crouched down beside Dino, rubbing at his hoof with a file or something. "Don't suppose, along with your ability to fix pumps and fences, you happen to be able to shoot and slaughter 'roos?" Ross asked, leaning against the fence wile Geoff put Dino's hoof down, and then straightened up. "Could be," Geoff said. "Is Dog out, or are you planning on cooking some 'roo?" "Dog's run out of meat," Ross said. "I didn't spot a gun safe in your truck, but Granddad's got a shottie in his room." "Don't carry a gun down here," Geoff said. "But I'm sure I can go catch Dog a 'roo tomorrow morning, first thing. Unless you're planning on keeping me in bed all morning?" Geoff leaned against the rails, and his hand was gentle on Ross' shoulder, thumb circling. Ross could barely breathe, the sense memory of that morning was so intense. "I've never barebacked before," Ross said. "Just so you know. I've never injected drugs, or had high risk sex." 89


The railing of the fence was a solid obstacle between them, so that Geoff had to lean across it to press his mouth against Ross' ear, dislodging his hat. "Me either. Guess we did things wrong this morning," Geoff said. "Should have said all this first, but I don't regret it, not when I remember how you felt." The stubble on Geoff's chin moved against Ross' neck as Geoff licked his ear. "Want to fuck me tonight?" Geoff whispered. "More than anything," Ross said, Geoff's mouth sliding down his neck to suck on the skin of his shoulder. It was another perfect dusk, the leftover moisture from the storm haloing the first stars as they appeared in the pale gray sky, the wind blowing chill up from the south. Kookaburras called, the sound reverberating off the sheds and house, an owl hooted nearby, and Ross could hear the sound of a fox coughing. "Want pizza?" he murmured, Geoff's arms pulling him closer against the railing of the horse pen. "Pizza, a wash, a fuck," Geoff said, letting go of Ross, grinning in the last of the light. "Wanna go put some water on for me, while I sort out Dino and Muffy for the night?" "Sure," Ross said, rearranging himself through his jeans. "Not like I couldn't do with a wash, too." The phone rang when Ross was out in the shed, feeding Dog his defrosted rump, and Ross wanted more than anything to ignore the call, but it might be his mother, with details on how to access the family trust fund. 90


Ross made it to the phone, clattering into the kitchen still wearing his boots, before it rang out. "Hi," Eugene said. "What's wrong? You sounded weird in the message." The screen door thudded, and Geoff padded into the kitchen and opened the fridge to get a beer, then caught sight of Ross on the phone. "Whoops," he said. "I'll go see if I can spot that fox." Ross smiled his thanks at Geoff, the smile fading as the screen door banged behind him. "Thanks for ringing back," Ross said, and his heart pounded harder. "I need to talk with you." "No endearments?" Eugene asked, his voice light. "Have you got some fearfully straight farmer there?" "No," Ross said. "I'm sorry, Eugene, I need to end our relationship." He heard silence over the phone for several seconds, and then Eugene said, "Is this because I didn't want to drive up there this weekend?" Eugene's voice was tight and thin, and Ross had to close his eyes. "No, not because of that," Ross said. "I owe you the truth. I've met someone else, and I'm involved with him." The silence lasted longer this time, and Ross thought he could hear Eugene sniffing. "Who?" Eugene finally asked. "Is it one of our friends? How long have you been fucking this guy?" "No, no one you know," Ross said. "I met him up here, on the farm, though I've actually known him for years, through our families. He's a drover." 91


"Fuck you," Eugene said. "You and your fucking cowboy." The phone line went dead, and Ross put the phone back in its handset. He felt empty somehow, and it worried him a little that he didn't feel more regret at hurting Eugene. Geoff was a dark shape, wandering around in the gloom, beer can in his hand and Dog at his heels, when Ross opened the back door and stepped out into the cloud of moths attracted to the verandah light. "You all right?" Geoff asked, ambling back toward Ross. "Yeah," Ross said. "Think so." Moths collided with him, battering wings against his hair, flickering against his cheeks. They ate pizza in the living room, slouched grubbily across Granddad's already grubby couch, beers on the coffee table and the regional news on the telly. Ross had spent enough time on the farm to be familiar with it all: the frogs squealing and the foxes yipping outside, the detailed weather forecasts for regions where no more than twenty people could possibly live, the snuffle of Dog kipping out in front of the wood stove as the mallee crackled. But this was different; Geoff ate faster than Granddad, leaving Ross scrambling to keep up or miss out on his fair share of pizza, and he could see a pile of bedding on the floor beside the couch, sleeping bags and blankets jumbled together, waiting for them both. Geoff yawned around a mouthful of pizza and reached for his beer. "Think I'll go have a wash," he said. "Want a shot of whiskey?" Standing naked in the kitchen, pale in the fluorescent light, arms wrapped around Geoff as they shared whiskey kisses, 92


Ross found that the phone call, and its attendant ache, was slipping away. Geoff pulled back reluctantly, stepped out of his filthy jeans and pushed down his underwear, his cock springing free. There were two wash clothes, one each, but Ross didn't pick his up. Instead, he watched enthralled as Geoff washed his hands and face in the vat of water hot enough that condensation roiled above it, then soaped his cloth and began to wipe down his body. Bits of Geoff were darker than others, his arse and thighs were merely tanned, his forearms walnut dark and freckled. Geoff had an honesty about his body: he didn't wax or shave, even his face had a few day's worth of dark beard. He didn't work out; he was just as he was. After a few lovers in a row who plucked and bleached and spray-tanned, Ross found Geoff's chest hair and solid thighs a real turn-on. Geoff's eyes twinkled at Ross, and then Geoff soaped the wash cloth again and began to wash his cock and balls. Geoff was half hard, his cock thickening as Ross watched, the cloth rubbing over his balls, then behind when Geoff lifted one leg a little. Geoff rinsed the cloth, then washed the skin of his cock, pulling his foreskin back, sliding it forward over the head, pulling it back again. "Well?" Geoff asked. "Or are you going to stay dirty?" Oh God, Ross was supposed to be washing, too, not watching Geoff wank with a wash cloth. The water was hot, good to plunge his hands into and to splash over his face. Ross washed his arms and armpits, and 93


Geoff moved to stand behind him, arms long enough to reach around Ross and wet his cloth again. Ross soaped his cloth and washed his groin, groaning when Geoff's cloth slid across his buttocks then down the crack of his arse. The toweling was coarse, and his skin was a little tender from the fucking, the combination was almost too much to bear, sharp and rough. "Come to bed?" Geoff murmured, mouth against Ross' hair. "Yeah." The wood fire burned steadily, the kitchen fluoro laid slabs of white light across the dusty floor, and Geoff smelt of soap and tasted of whiskey, still damp from the wash, so good to kiss. Ross dragged the sleeping bag over them both and eased down Geoff's body a little. It was good to not be freezing, to be able to watch Geoff's face, his mouth rounding as Ross' hand slid down his cock. Geoff said, "Yeah, babe," when Ross knelt up and moved all the way down his torso so his face pressed against Geoff's hip. "Want me to make you come?" Ross asked, looking up at Geoff. Geoff lifted himself up a little and picked up the end of Ross' scruffy plait. "Hang on," Geoff said, and Ross held his breath while Geoff dragged the elastic band off the end of the braid. Geoff had to prop himself up on one elbow to be able to reach, but his fingers slid into Ross' plait, unfurling it. "Have I ever mentioned how hot your hair is?" Geoff asked. 94


"Don't think you have," Ross said, and his hair slithered across his shoulder and arm, falling down to his elbow. He'd not had his hair cut in five years, and it was thick and long, deep brown at the scalp, sun-lightened to honey at the tips, and curling from being bound in a plait all day. "Then let me do it now," Geoff said, his fingers sliding into Ross' hair, lifting the weight off his back and shoulder. "I think you hair is so fucking hot, the way it escapes from its plait, the way you push it behind your ears, all I can think about right now is winding it around my cock, just to feel it." Geoff let the weight fall again, and Ross had to grin at him. "No one's ever said that before," Ross said, reaching behind him to capture all of his hair in his hand, pulling it forward so it fell onto Geoff's belly. It would have been funny if it wasn't for the way Geoff groaned, and for how hard Ross was. He wasn't sure why it was good, twining his hair around Geoff's cock, except that Geoff was so turned on that pre-come seeped from his cock, marking Ross' hair, turning the strands dark. "Fuck," Geoff whispered, and Ross couldn't actually move very much, not with his head trapped by the hair, not enough to get his mouth over Geoff's cock. He had to settle for propping himself precariously on one elbow and covering his hair with his hand, pressing the strands into Geoff's skin, sliding over them. Ross started laughing and couldn't stop, it was all ridiculous and absurd and very, very hot.

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"Fuck," Geoff gasped. "Mock me all you like, you're gonna be begging me to fuck you with your own come some time in the next few days." Geoff dropped his head back onto the bedding and covered Ross' hand with his own, guiding it harder and faster, groaning loudly. The friction tangled Ross' hair, sending it flying wildly, and it was going to take Ross ages to get the knots out but he was too busy trying to stifle his laughs and enjoying Geoff's squirming moans to worry about that. It was fun, and Ross hadn't laughed himself silly in bed for a damned long time. Geoff's hand clamped tighter over Ross'; he shouted, and come looped across his belly and seeped into Ross' hair, spreading everywhere, including over Ross' face as he tried to lick at least some of it up. Geoff stopped moaning and starting laughing, too, trying to push Ross away and unwind his hair all at once, and Ross poked at Geoff with his fingertips, just enough to establish Geoff really was that ticklish. It took time, but once Ross had stopped tickling Geoff, they managed to co-ordinate the hair sorting, and Ross flopped back onto the bedding beside Geoff, grinning, his cock hard and ready. Geoff rolled over, lying across Ross, still looking like he'd just come his brains out, his fingers lifting a damp clump of Ross' hair. "Hmm," he said. "Not much chance of retrieving enough come for you to fuck me with," he said. "I grabbed some lube from home, or do you think you owe me a dry fuck?" 96


"Get the lube," Ross said. "I'll fuck you dry another time." Geoff stretched an arm out, rolling further over to rummage in a pack beside the couch, and Ross ran an appreciative hand down his side, feeling the strength of the muscles beneath Geoff's skin, being careful to press hard enough not to tickle. Geoff moved his arm back and handed Ross a half-used tube of KY. He was serious, no laughter creasing his face, leaning forward to press his lips chastely against Ross', just for a moment. The fire crackled, Dog's claws clicked on the kitchen floor, and the wind had picked up, rattling the stillbroken gutters, indicating another cold front was on the way. "Stay?" Ross asked when Geoff lifted his mouth. Geoff's fingers pushed a strand of Ross' hair off his face, and Ross knew why Geoff liked to touch his hair. "Not going anywhere," Geoff said. The lube was cold, making Geoff flinch just a little when Ross slid two slippery fingers around Geoff's arse, then he eased one in slowly. "Harder," Geoff said. "I want to feel you, all of you." "I can do harder," Ross said, closing his eyes and concentrating on the feeling of adding a second finger. Geoff hadn't let go, his body was fighting it, but when Ross opened his eyes and checked, Geoff had his head turned to one side, mouth open in bliss. "Been a long time," Geoff said, and Ross just wanted to make him feel as good as he could manage, wanted to make Geoff feel like he had that morning. 97


The lube was cold and wet on his cock, no longer separated from Ross' skin by a layer of latex, but Geoff was hot as fire when Ross pressed the head of his cock against Geoff's body. To be feeling it, actually feeling someone else's skin and body, every miniscule part of them, pushing deeper and deeper into the tightest arse imaginable, was amazing, making Ross groan and shudder. Geoff yelled, making Dog bark excitedly, and then Geoff grabbed hold of Ross' head and smashed their mouths together. It was worth yelling about, worth kissing Geoff back as hard as possible, driving his cock in as hard as he could: blinding, searing ecstasy. Ross' orgasm started down in his feet, uncurling up through his body, making him shout, too, teeth against flesh, cock throbbing and burning, leaving him weak and sweat slick. He collapsed down onto Geoff, jammed in as deep as he could get, staying there through the last gasps and twitches of coming. He smelled of come, in his hair and on his face, and his cock was finally starting to let go, but not even Dog snuffling at the pair of them in worry could make Ross attempt to move. "Get out!" Geoff said, and Dog backed away, then Geoff's hand stroked down Ross' back, smoothing his hair, settling on his lower back. "Fuck," Ross breathed, and Geoff laughed quietly, shaking them both a little. "Intense?" Geoff asked, and Ross found the coordination to slide out, and slump off of Geoff. 98


"There goes my career as an academic," Ross said. "I'll never have a coherent thought again." Geoff dragged a blanket over them both and kissed Ross' forehead. "Then you'd better come droving with me."

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Chapter Seven Ross was still fast asleep, when Geoff woke at first light, so he slipped out from under the swag, tucking it in around Ross to keep him warm. Ross murmured, and Geoff stroked his hair gently. Then he quickly pulled his clothes on in the kitchen. There was work to be done, but he'd have a coffee first. He sat on the edge of the verandah, work boots on, in the muted light of dawn through the rain clouds. A great deal of work to be done. There were 'roos moving across the paddocks in the morning light, so Geoff went back inside, treading as quietly as he could, to find the old man's bedroom. Ross had said there would be a shottie there, and there was, on pegs on the wall. There were shells in the laundry, and really, the safety aspect of leaving both a shotgun and ammo unlocked gave Geoff the creeps, but at least it meant he could leave Ross asleep. **** Geoff got as far as moving the drill rig into place and starting the process of dropping a line before Ross appeared on the verandah. Geoff steadied the drill arm and switched the driller motor to idle, so the drilling fluid kept circulating but the bit no longer ground into the limestone. Ross had dressed and combed out his hair, it was still loose, just wound around itself at the back, and he held out a 100


mug of coffee to Geoff when Geoff walked over to the verandah. "You should have woken me," he said while Geoff took an appreciative slurp of coffee. "Didn't want to," Geoff said. "Besides, this part is simple. I'll need a hand later, getting lines primed and the rest of the piping hooked up." "Anything you want me to do?" Ross asked. "Apart from feed the cattle." Geoff looked across the yard, at the nearest empty paddock, waiting to be sewn. He could see a solid sheet of green across the damp, red dirt, at least an inch of weed growth coming in. "They'll still need feeding," he agreed. "Another week until the weeds are high enough to feed them. Don't bother watering them; I'll have the bore running by the end of the day. Apart from that, if you can find a power drill and a decent ladder, you could start stripping the guttering off the house. We won't have any fresh drinking water until the guttering is done." Geoff reached out a hand and tugged experimentally on a dangling piece of guttering, pulling it free from the verandah roof easily then tossing it onto the ground. "Don't think that'll take much effort," Ross said. "And there's a 'roo hanging in the freezer shed," Geoff added. "I'm draining it at the moment. You might want to make sure Dog doesn't get in there." Ross leaned against a verandah post, and he didn't say anything when Geoff put his coffee mug on the wicker chair 101


and pulled the loose knot out of Ross' hair. Geoff pulled the hair gently, loosening the lie of it, and Ross flicked a fly from his eyes and drank some more of his coffee. Braiding was easy, and Geoff caught the long sections of hair between his fingers, trying to avoid snagging the hair on the cuts and calluses on his hands. He worked his way down the length, keeping the hair untwisted, right to the end of the fall of Ross' hair. Ross held an elastic band out to Geoff, which Geoff bound around the end of the plait, turning the loose ends under securely. "You should tie your hair," he said. "It would split less." "Tie?" Ross said, reaching behind to touch the plait. "How do you tie hair?" "With a piece of cord. It'll give you a smoother finish," Geoff said. "And you can loop the braid up into a rosette, and it won't fall out, no matter what you do." "I'm not a fucking horse!" Ross said, yanking his hair away from Geoff's hands. "Is that what you're doing to my hair?" Geoff shrugged and grinned at Ross. "Don't go putting the wombat in the blender. You're hot when you're annoyed." Ross starting laughing, and Geoff reached out and touched his face, just briefly. "Let's go do some work, before we wind up shagging again." **** The roof of the farmhouse was in poor shape, the sheets of tin corroding and lifting. Ross propped the battery pack power drill on one of the rusted out sheets and eased back down the ladder again. 102


He could hear Geoff swearing steadily over the hum of the bore drill, and Geoff looked up from supervising the drill rig to wave a hand at Ross. Ross waved back and grabbed the spade from beside the back door. The tractor shed was a huge mess, teetering mounds of car parts and reticulation piping, half-used sacks of fertilizer, collapsed kitchen chairs, unsteady piles of ancient magazines. Ross' grandmother had died a decade ago, and no one seemed to have sorted anything out since then. The workbench was piled high with discarded junk, but Ross found a pump pack of roof sealant there. The nozzle was plugged, of course, filled with dried sealant, until Ross unearthed a utility knife in the mess and hacked the nozzle off. It would give him blobs of sealant rather than a neat line, but he'd seen the roof and that wouldn't matter. It was a beautiful day, bright enough that Ross squashed one of his grandfather's Akubras on his head, stuffing the plait Geoff had made up out of the way, cool enough that clambering around the roof wasn't unbearable, the height giving him a view of the farm, the paddocks greening as he watched. It was repetitive work, unscrewing the brackets supposedly holding the ruined guttering in place, tossing the guttering to the ground, and then sealing what he could reach of the roof, but it gave him time to think. He was deep in rumination about what the realities of living on the edge of a desert, about what it meant to the Australian collective unconscious, having just shifted the 103


ladder around the corner of the house, when he spotted the bogged car. The road was just visible, if he braced himself on the roof and stood up tall, the front gate to the farm a distant line. Just inside the gate, right where the cattle had churned up the mud, was a familiar little yellow car up to its bumper in slurry, and a figure standing beside it, peering back at him. Ross swore, "Fucking hell," then waved an arm at the figure. Eugene waved back, and Ross tossed the caulking gun down on the ground and clambered down the ladder. Geoff was sprawled on his belly in the dirt, peering down the drill line he was running, and Ross didn't disturb him. He was about to get horribly disturbed anyway. Dog bounded after Ross, following him across the yard and through the gum trees to the gate to the front paddock. The pink and gray galahs swooped around him, shrieking, and Ross pushed the gate closed behind him, trekking through the dirt. It was a big paddock, taking several minutes to amble across, and by the time Ross was close enough to see Eugene clearly, the cattle had also spotted the newcomer and he was sitting on the bonnet of his bogged car, feet pulled up, while curious cows milled around him. "Thank God you're here," Eugene called out, and Ross waved to him, and said, "Move them out," to Dog. Dog yipped and threw himself at the cattle, barking and bounding around them. The cattle, faced with a loud, 104


annoying dog, muttered and wandered away, Dog nipping at the heels of the stragglers. Ross stopped at the front of the car and inspected the mud, then looked up at Eugene ruefully. "Sorry," Eugene said, and he started crying. The cattle were rumbling now, working their way up to a trot in the mud, so Ross whistled for Dog, calling him back. "I'll get the tractor down, pull your car out," Ross said. "You'd better come back to the house." Eugene wiped his face and swallowed. "Thanks." Ross shook his head and considered Eugene, in his artfully faded jeans, white T-shirt and expensive sneakers. Eugene was attractive, there was no doubt of that, blonde streaks in his hair, buffed and fit, but Ross wasn't sure anymore why he'd fancied the man. Ross angled his head across the farm, indicating the direction, and started walking. There was a pause, then Eugene was beside him, squelching through the mud. "Why are you here?" Ross asked. It was a reasonable question, and probably needed asking. "Because of you," Eugene said. "I needed to talk to you, try and sort this out. I don't care if you've been shagging someone else, I still want to be with you." "You drove five hundred kilometers?" Ross asked. "Because you didn't believe the phone calls?" Eugene stopped, up to his ankles in mud, and Ross tried to work out how close they were to where the calves had been born. "I love you," Eugene said. 105


"Fucking hell," Ross said under his breath, and he picked up speed, stomping ahead through the mud, leaving Eugene to find his own way to the farmhouse. Geoff looked up from where he was wrestling with the bore line when Ross nudged him with his foot, and he leaned over and switched the drive motor to a faint idle. "Problem?" Geoff asked, his voice loud over the sudden absence of motor. "Big one," Ross said, and Geoff scrambled to his feet, wiping mud and grease from his hands onto his jeans. "Eugene's here. Sorry 'bout this." "Not your fault," Geoff said. "Can't you just make him piss off?" "His car's bogged by the gate," Ross said, and Geoff's gaze moved over his shoulder, and Ross turned to see Eugene, caked in mud to his knees, fending off Dog's attentions. Ross whistled, and Dog bounded over to meet him as he walked over to Eugene. It looked like he was stuck with talking to Eugene, so he might as well be polite. "Want a coffee? We can talk," he said, taking Eugene's elbow and leading him toward the house, past the parked cars and sheds. "Is that him?" Eugene asked as Ross dragged his own mud-caked boots off. "Your cowboy?" "Yep," Ross said, holding the screen door open for Eugene once Eugene had pulled off his own muddy sneakers. The water from the kitchen tap was nothing more than a dribble, so Ross filled the kettle from one of the bottles of bought water, and clattered it onto the stovetop. 106


"You shouldn't have come here," Ross, gesturing at the kitchen table for Eugene to sit down. "I can't believe you dumped me for some farmer," Eugene said, sitting down at the cluttered table. "I thought we had something special." "I wasn't happy," Ross said, sitting down, too. "I hadn't been happy for a long time, I just didn't know it until I got here and had a chance to think." "Was it something I did?" Eugene asked. "Was it because I didn't want to come here?" Ross shook his head slowly. "No, though that made it easier for me to decide I wanted to be with Geoff. Once I'd realized I wanted something different from life, it was inevitable I'd want to end it with you. I don't want to spend my evenings gossiping in cafés and drinking imported beer in bars. I don't want to listen to people obsessing about tans and clothes and cars. I want something more." "You're saying I'm shallow?" Eugene asked. "Your cowboy is an intellectual?" "The way we both lived was shallow," Ross said. "And it's not about being an intellectual, it's about living life with some degree of purpose." "You've turned into a fucking snob," Eugene said bitterly. Ross stared at Eugene for a moment, then the irony hit him. There he was, no drinking water, not having had a shower for days, a dead 'roo hanging in the shed. He was covered in mud, muscles aching from doing physical work, tired and a little hungry, and Eugene thought he was a snob. 107


Laughing wouldn't be a good response, and Ross stood up and moved to the kitchen, finding cups and instant coffee. The cups were dusty, as always, so Ross sloshed a little drinking water into them both and swilled it around. He could see Geoff through the window, rummaging around in the tractor shed, looking for something among the mess. When Ross glanced back at Eugene, Eugene was staring at the living room floor, something like disgust or dismay on his face. Ross put the rinsed coffee mugs on the bench, and looked down. There was a mostly empty tube of lube on the floor, beside the tangle of blankets and sleeping bags they'd slept in, and Ross closed his eyes for a moment. "You're actually having penetrative sex with him?" Eugene said, disbelief in his voice. "After refusing to with me?" "Oh, for fuck's sake, Eugene," Ross said. "I didn't actually invite you here, so it's your own fault if you don't like what you find. Forget the coffee, I'll go drag your car out of the mud with the tractor, and you can drive to Geraldton and stay there for the night." Ross dropped the mugs, instant coffee muddying the bottoms of them, into the sink, and watched Geoff stagger backward out of the shed, swatting at himself frantically. "Fuck you," Eugene said, and Ross heard him draw a deep breath in, ready to launch into an argument. Through the window, Geoff clawed at his arm frantically, and then dragged his shirt off without unbuttoning it, his face screwed up. Ross took off, through the laundry and screen door, didn't bother putting his boots on, just dashed across the mud and 108


gravel, getting to Geoff a moment after he crumpled to the ground, groaning. "Spider," Geoff said through gritted teeth, and Ross knelt down in the mud and ran his hands over Geoff's left arm, below where Geoff had clamped his right hand around the arm. "Bugger," Ross said, under his breath. There was a red welt appearing as he watched, on Geoff's left forearm, the skin swelling and stretching. "Sure it wasn't a snake?" "I'm still fucking breathing," Geoff pointed out. "See if you can find the bastard thing." Geoff's shirt was on the ground, so Ross grabbed that and turned it inside out, looking for the spider. "Red back?" Geoff asked, sweat beading his face through the dirt. "Think so," Ross said. "That or a white tail spider, perhaps." There was a squished spider inside the sleeve of Geoff's shirt, and Ross held it out for Geoff to see. "What do you think?" "Fucking hurts," Geoff said, and he looked pale under his dirt and tan. Ross poked at the smeared spider on the fabric and grimaced. There was a distinctively bright red patch in the black. "It was a red back. Hospital?" Geoff nodded and attempted to push himself up to a sitting position, then slid forward, back into the dirt, arms wrapped around his chest, his breath coming in pants. Eugene was hovering nearby, looking panicked, so Ross looked up at him and said, "Get my boots for me, now." 109


Eugene said, "Is he going to be all right?" Ross touched Geoff's face, where sweat had begun to trickle, and shook his head. "Quickly," he said. "Move it!" The screen door banged, and then banged again, while Ross tried to lift Geoff into a sitting position. Eugene squatted down beside Ross, and put his boots down in the dirt. "Here," he said, holding out a pack of frozen peas. "Red back spider bite, you don't apply compression, just ice." "Thanks," Geoff said, and when he unclamped his hand from his forearm, the redness was extending up the arm. He pressed the ice pack against the bite site, and said, "I don't feel well." Ross shoved his feet into his boots, then knelt beside Geoff and wrapped his arm around Geoff's bare back. "Give us a hand," he said. Eugene did the same, and Ross said, "One, two, three," and the three of them combined and managed to drag Geoff up onto his feet. "Which vehicle?" Eugene asked. That was a damned good question. Ross' sedan was out, the paddock was too boggy, so it needed to be something with four-wheel drive. The Land Rover was a cranky bastard, tricky to start and a nightmare to drive at any speed. That left Geoff's truck, but Ross had never driven an F100, and had no idea how to put one into four wheel drive mode. He could learn. "The Ford," Ross said. "Where're your keys, Geoff?" 110


Geoff was heavy, crushing against Ross' shoulder, and Ross could feel the sweat beginning to trickle down Geoff's body as the venom spread. "Ignition," Geoff said through gritted teeth. It took agonizing minutes to drag Geoff the few meters to the truck, and Geoff half slumped over the bonnet while Ross hauled the passenger door open and tossed the junk on the seat out onto the dirt. "Come on," Eugene said to Geoff. "One last little bit, and then you can stay still." Ross and Eugene had to push Geoff into the truck cab, sprawling him across the bench seat, and then lifting his legs in. Ross dashed around the other side and crawled in, and between them they managed to lever Geoff upright. Geoff's eyes were closed, his lips white, sweat streaking the dirt on his face. He was breathing fast and shallow, and panic made Ross' fingers fumble at the ignition. It was a diesel, it was a fucking diesel, which meant it wouldn't start immediately, and they were going to have to wait while the pre-chamber warmed up. Ross glanced across at Geoff, while the lights on the dash thought about working, and couldn't quite believe that Eugene was clambering into the cab of the truck, too, crouching on the seat beside Geoff while he slammed the passenger door shut. "There isn't room," Ross said, as Eugene crammed himself into the space beside Geoff.

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"And you can resus Geoff while you're driving?" Eugene said. "Don't be stupid, Ross, I've done first aid training for work." The light on the dash flickered off, indicating the prechamber was hot, and Ross hit the ignition, rumbling the motor into life. "For someone who's helpless, you're coping well," Ross said, reversing the truck across the yard, then banging it into second, the way he'd seen Geoff drive. "Geoff, where's your four wheel drive switch?" Ross put his foot on the clutch, halting the truck. Geoff had his head tipped back, eyes screwed shut, but he still managed to wave a hand at the floor of the cab. "Got it," Ross said, bending over as far as the steering wheel would let him and scrabbling around to find the lever. The truck was an older model, rusted and battered, and Ross had to use both hands to haul the lever across to the four wheel drive setting. There was a lurch and a crunch under the cab, and Ross could feel the difference when he eased the clutch off again, the wheels not spinning in the mud. He put the truck into neutral and the hand brake on and clambered out to tackle the first gate. His personal inclination was just to run the truck through the gate, to save time, but someone would have to come back and round up the cattle again if he did that, and it would almost certainly be him. Besides, Geoff would probably be less than impressed.

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He wrenched the gate open, dragging it through the dirt, moved the truck, then shoved the gate shut behind them, all taking precious minutes. When he got back in the cab, Eugene was holding the ice pack against Geoff's arm and checking the pulse in Geoff's neck. He nodded to Ross when Ross raised an eyebrow in query. The paddock was muddy and slippery; the sheen of new weed growth adding a sheer surface to the dirt, and it was no wonder that Eugene had bogged his car. The sedan was still there, if anything it had settled further into the dirt, and if Eugene was concerned about this, Ross couldn't tell. The front gate to the paddock was even harder to move than the last time Ross had opened it, the new growth of weeds stopping it from dragging even, making him wrench at it and swear in the attempt. He forced it open just far enough for the truck to get through, then had to repeat the effort to get it closed again. New gates. He could get new gates for the farm and send the account to the family trust. Once the truck was safely on the hard shoulder of the main road, Ross shoved it back into two wheel drive, then spun the tires on the gravel as he took off. They were fifty kilometers out of Geraldton, a thirty-five minute run usually. He wasn't sure what the top speed of the old Ford truck was, but he'd bet anything it was over the legal speed limit for the state.

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Geoff groaned, just audible over the hum of the tires on the road and the roar of the motor. Eugene said, "Ross, you might want to drive faster." The truck had overdrive, but Ross left it in fourth gear, to get better torque out of the motor. There was no one else on the Mullewa road, and he wasn't likely to see another car until he got to the Moonyoonooka roadhouse, or even as far as Woorree. The smell of vomit was sharp and unpleasant, but Ross wasn't going to take one hand off the steering wheel to wind a window down. The truck rattled and whined, wound all the way out, air whistling through perished door seals, the steering wheel vibrating so hard that Ross' hands felt like they were burning. It was hard work holding the truck steady, but the road was reasonably straight, and until they came in close to Geraldton, down onto the coastal plain, Ross didn't think they'd find any water still lying across the road from the storm. The iron ore truck lumbering into Moonyoonooka was the first vehicle Ross saw, making him drop speed, down to something like the speed of the truck. He edged out a little on the road, checking for oncoming traffic, then flogged it, the old truck screaming past the iron ore semi-trailer, pulling in ahead of it to the sound of the huge horn on the iron ore truck roaring at them in protest. Ross didn't care if the truck driver radioed ahead to Geraldton police and reported them, it might even mean they picked up a police escort. He'd willingly lose his license for dangerous driving if it got Geoff to the hospital a little faster. 114


The market gardens outside Woorree were the edges of the town, and Ross had to drop speed right back after the first time someone drove a tractor out onto the main road without looking to see if some lunatics in an ancient and overheated Ford were speeding toward the town. After the dash at high speed, pulling back to near the speed limit felt like crawling, but there were cars on the road, and bicycles and trucks. Ross spotted the flashing blue lights before he heard the sirens, flicked his headlights at the approaching police car, and worked the truck back through the gears, absorbing speed. Police would have first aid gear in their car, if nothing else. The truck rumbled to a halt on the shoulder of the road, and Ross' hands were shaking uncontrollably when he managed to unwind them from the steering wheel and turn his head enough to see Geoff. Geoff was vomiting again, sweat streaming down his face, knees pulled up on the seat. Eugene wiped Geoff's face with his fingers, and he looked as scared at Ross felt. The police car screeched to a halt in front of the truck, and the two officers burst out of the car and ran to the truck. The driver's door was pulled open, and the cop said, "Snake bite?" "Red back spider." "I'll drive. Get out, one of you," the cop said. "Get in the patrol car."

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Ross' hands proved to be shaking so hard that he couldn't undo his seatbelt, and the cop had to lean across and unfasten it. The cop was right, Ross was in no shape to be driving through the town. He stumbled around the truck, to the passenger side of the cab, and Eugene, who was ghostly pale, ran for the patrol car. Ross clambered into the cab and slammed the passenger door shut and locked it, then squashed into the available space beside Geoff. The patrol car lights and sirens came on, and the patrol car leapt onto the road. The police officer who was behind the wheel of the truck banged it into gear and the truck wheel's spun briefly, and then the truck surged ahead, following the patrol car. Ross slid his arm around Geoff's shoulders, and Geoff opened his eyes briefly, managing a weak smile before a grimace of pain screwed them shut again. "You driven far?" the cop asked, following the patrol car, its sirens wailing, through the intersection with the road from Walkaway, around a semi-trailer laden with sheep. "From Bringo Springs," Ross said. "Don't worry, my partner will radio ahead, let Accident and Emergency know we're on the way." They rattled over the railway line, and the outer suburb of Utakarra was a blur as market gardens gave way to suburban houses. The lights at North West Coastal Highway were the first set, and were against them, but the patrol car just dropped 116


speed, whirred the sirens, and slid on through the intersection as the cars stopped around them. The truck didn't corner as well, jamming Ross hard against Geoff, and Ross was deeply relieved it wasn't him trying to control a couple of tons of metal and rust around that corner. The truck fishtailed a little, steadied up, and the patrol car took off, the truck behind it, screaming around the roundabout and into the town centre, toward the hospital.

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Chapter 8 There was fire running up Geoff's arm, ripping through the flesh, right into his chest. His head was on fire, too, each pulse beat making it feel like it was bursting. He'd never felt pain like it, despite broken bones, concussions and all the other injuries he'd had. He was only distantly aware of Ross beside him, and the cop driving, though a tiny part of him was relieved the cop was at the wheel. If he'd not been in so much agony, and throwing up on Eugene, he might just have been panicking at Ross' driving and what he was doing to Geoff's precious truck. The patrol car sirens picked up in volume, and the truck dropped speed, the cop banging it down through the gears, working the brakes, too. Through his closed eyelids, Geoff could tell they were out of the sunlight, and he could hear the overheated motor ticking once the ignition was switched off, and the clatter of the truck doors being wrenched open. Ross went, jostling Geoff as he unwound his arms, making Geoff stifle a cry of pain, and the seat sagged beside Geoff. A woman's voice said, "I'm Doctor Kay, I'll be your emergency physician today. Want to look at me?" Her hands were cool, touching Geoff's face and neck, and then his arm. Geoff opened his eyes and found himself face to face with a solid woman with a stethoscope in her ears. "Shh," she said, and it took Geoff a moment to work out she was trying to silence the cops and Ross, not him. "Tell me about the pain, Geoff," Doctor Kay said, sliding the stethoscope back around her neck. 118


"Fucking hurts," Geoff said. "Arm, chest, head." "We'll get you out of the truck," Doctor Kay said. "But I'll do something for the pain first." She turned her head and said, "Let's have ten of morphine and ten of metoclopramide." Geoff didn't actually feel the injection, just felt someone fumbling at his arm, but a few heartbeats later blessed coolness began to flow through his body, freezing the sweat that was trickling down his chest, turning his blood to ice, just like the pack of frozen peas... Hands pulled at him and the pressure of the seat belt disappeared, then he found himself wobbling to his feet, strange hands holding him upright. Doctor Kay's voice seemed a long way away, and he almost forgot where he was, at least until he caught sight of a panicked Ross standing beside a cop, clutching onto his pestiferous exboyfriend. Ross' ex-boyfriend, not the cop's, though Geoff had doubts about the cop too... It was a relief to sink back onto a trolley, even if the lights in the Emergency Department were painfully bright, making him lift a wooden arm across his face to shield his eyes. "Oh, no you don't," Doctor Kay said, lifting his arm back down. "I was using that arm." She fumbled at Geoff's arms for a moment, then said, "Great veins there, Geoff. I'm going to give you the antivenom now. Could someone please check this with me?" "Two units, at two thirty seven," someone said. "Kay, pulse is tachy." "Let's get an ECG, just to be sure," Doctor Kay said. "And some blood, to check for CEs." 119


It didn't really make sense to Geoff, his brain felt like it was packed in cotton wool, with the pain ebbing and nothing flowing in to replace it, but Doctor Kay looked kind of welllived in, not a demountable woman at all, definitely a double brick and tile... "You're rambling, Geoff," Doctor Kay said, and Geoff realized his mouth had been running. "Think you can focus for a moment?" Geoff nodded, making sure his mouth was firmly closed. "I've given you a starting dose of the anti-venom, two vials, and hopefully that'll stop the envenomation. If it doesn't, I'll just keep giving you the anti-venom until it works. There's a chance you'll have an adverse reaction to the antivenom, especially if you're allergic to horses." "Love horses," Geoff said, and Doctor Kay patted his arm. "You rest for a while, while the anti-venom works, and enjoy the morphine. I'm going to go talk to your friends." "Ross?" Geoff asked, opening his eyes again. "He can come in for a moment and see you," Doctor Kay said. "As long as you explain exactly how you wound up being driven here by the two muddiest, gayest young men I have ever seen. Is there a whole farm full of cute gay guys out there?" "If there is, I never found it," Geoff said. Later on, when he wasn't in a happy place, he could worry about being outed, but he wanted a hug from Ross first. Doctor Kay disappeared behind the curtains of the cubicle for long enough that Geoff got a chance to fiddle with all the 120


sticky wires on his chest, making a machine beep and a nurse appear to stop him. Then Doctor Kay opened the curtains again, with Ross beside her. The curtains closed again, and Ross took Geoff's hand in his and squeezed it. "You feeling better?" Ross asked, and Geoff nodded. Ross looked pale and tired, filthy dirty, his hair making a break from the braid Geoff had done a lifetime ago. "Feel ... weird," Geoff said. Ross chuckled. "The doc said you were off your face on the morphine. Apparently you thought she was a building or something." "Oh," Geoff said. "Oh." "I think the hospital called your mother when I gave them your details, hope that was the right thing to do," Ross said. Geoff turned the idea over in his mind, had a look at it from a few sides. "That's cool," he said. He was reasonably sure, through the golden glow of chemicals and holding Ross' hand, that his mum knew exactly how he felt about Ross already, based on a three minute conversation when he'd gone home to collect Dino. Geoff's eyes drifted shut for a moment, then he wrenched them open again. "I threw up on Eugene," he said, deeply satisfied. **** It took several hours, and another two doses of antivenom, before Doctor Kay decided Geoff was in any shape to 121


go home. Geoff had a list of symptoms to watch for, a borrowed hospital pajama top and a lingering headache. The truck was parked out the front of the hospital, and Ross had the keys, kindly delivered to him by the cop who'd driven the truck. "Tell your friend that he needs to replace his front tires," the cop had said. "Under any other circumstances, we would have felt the need to slap a work order on it." Ross and Eugene were both wearing oversize shirts, borrowed from Ross' grandfather, who'd rolled his eyes when Ross had gone to visit him on the ward and tell him of the spider bite. "Damned fool, shouldn't have been rummaging in the sheds," he'd said. "Shut up," Ross had said back. "We're going to clear out those bloody sheds, get rid of the rubbish." Eugene stuck his hands in his jeans pockets while Ross unlocked the truck. "I could stay in a hotel in town," Eugene said. "Get someone to drive me out to the farm tomorrow, to collect my car." Ross glanced at Geoff, who was holding onto bonnet of the truck, still too sleepy to really stand by himself. "Don't be silly, there's no need to do that," Ross said. "Plenty of room at the farm, as long as you don't mind washing in a sink." In the early evening, night drawing in as the western horizon turned from gold to silver behind them, the 'roos were out, so Ross drove carefully. He'd used up all his driving 122


luck already that day, during the screaming dash to the hospital, and he didn't want to take any chances. Geoff was half asleep, his hand splayed across Ross' thigh, pressing heavy through the fabric of his jeans, and Eugene was silent, too, peering out of the passenger window at the dark paddocks and the white flicker as the headlights caught 'roos grazing the verge. The road was a humming blur, the reflective posts beside the road marking the occasional bend as the road wound its way up though the foothills to the plateau where the farm was. Ross was tired, completely worn out by the panic of the day, and it was a huge relief to turn into the front gate of the farm. The gate was no easier to open, and the cattle all rushed over to investigate, making Ross' job harder. Between the dark, the dirt and the cows, it was a bit of a mess. The cattle all trailed up the paddock behind the truck, milling around as Ross opened the second gate, making him shout at them and smack their rumps, just to get the gate open. "I know, I know," he told the chocolate-colored cow that complained to him. "I'll be round with the water in a little while." He had to wake Geoff when he'd parked the truck beside the house, and Geoff stumbled and staggered into the house, slumping down on the couch and thudding his feet onto the coffee table, Dog in his lap.

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Eugene had the fridge open when Ross came back into the kitchen and said, "I have to go water the stock; can you keep an eye on Geoff?" "Do you want me to cook?" Eugene asked, standing back up and closing the fridge, then opening the pantry door. "There's not a lot here, but I'm sure I can put together something." Ross leaned tiredly against the counter. "That would be fucking fabulous," he said. "I'm sorry for all this; it's put you in a really uncomfortable position." Eugene shrugged. "It's weird," he admitted. "But you're right, you didn't ask me to turn up here. It's my own fault." Ross took two beers out of the fridge and handed one to Eugene. "I'm sorry, I've handled this badly," Ross said. "We can talk later, but I've got to go ride a tractor around in the dark." It was cold outside, making Ross shrug the Drizabone he'd grabbed from the laundry closer around himself. It was a still night, no howling south-westerly warning of an approaching front, but the weeds crackled a little under his feet. There'd be a frost the next morning, and it would be a cold night. By the time he'd worked his way around the stock, watering the cows, the bull and the two horses, the Furphy was finally bone dry and he was cold enough that the air stung his cheeks and made his lungs burn. Standing in the laundry, peeling off his socks and waterproof jacket, waves of something magical hit his nose. Eugene was standing at the stove, stirring a vat of liquid that bubbled and spat. Ross patted Eugene on the back, and 124


went into the living room. Geoff was asleep on the couch, Dog sprawled across him, and Ross spared him a longing gaze before turning his attention to the wood fire. He emptied the ash out of the drawer at the bottom, then out of the body of the stove, before repacking the grate with kindling and paper. There wasn't a lot of pre-split mallee root left, and he could see that his near future was going to include a session with a log splitter and the woodpile. The fire caught easily, with the improved airflow from the ash being removed, kindling crackling and flaming up around the mallee pieces. Ross stayed in front of the fire, almost asleep and rousing only occasionally to feed more mallee into the flames, until Eugene touched his shoulder. "Dinner's ready," Eugene said. "Do you want to wake Geoff?" Geoff had already woken; he opened his eyes as soon as Ross squatted down beside the couch, touching Ross' cheek with fingertips briefly, and then moving Dog aside and swinging his legs over the edge of the couch. "How you feeling?" Ross asked, holding a hand out to help Geoff to his feet. "Hungry and tired," Geoff said. "Something smells good." "Eugene can cook," Ross said, following Geoff into the kitchen and steadying him as he sat down at the table. "He clears mess away, too," Eugene said. "I just stacked everything from the table in the corner on the floor. Hopefully you can find it all again." 125


"What is it?" Geoff asked when Eugene put a bowl of yellowish soup and rice in front of him. "Because I don't think I've ever smelled anything so good." "Let's pretend it's a laksa," Eugene said, putting another two bowls on the table and sitting down himself. "Even though it doesn't actually contain any of the defining ingredients of a laksa." They ate in silence, but it didn't feel anywhere near as uncomfortable as it should, sharing a meal with his ex and his new lover. Ross was too tired to cope with any dramas, and Eugene looked wiped out, too. "I'm going to brush my teeth and go to bed," Geoff said when he'd cleared his bowl. "Try and recapture some of the morphine." Ross fed the fire while Geoff clattered around, brushing his teeth in a mug of drinking water then venturing out into the darkness to piss. "Is there anything to drink?" Eugene asked when the living room was in darkness and Geoff an indeterminate lump under the bedding. "Sure," Ross said, and he took the whiskey bottle out of the cupboard and plonked it on the table, in front of Eugene, then put a cleanish coffee mug beside it. "You not drinking?" Eugene asked, pouring himself half a mug of cheap whiskey. "Can't," Ross said. "Just in case Geoff has to go back to hospital."

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Geoff grunted sleepily, from under the blankets, and Eugene nodded. "Doesn't mean I can't, right?" Eugene said. "So, talk to me. What the fuck went wrong?" Maybe Ross did need a drink after all. "I'm not sure it was ever right," Ross said. "Between you and me." Geoff made a rumbling noise that Ross already recognized as meaning he was asleep. There were advantages to doing this with a putative witness, it guaranteed neither he nor Eugene were going to lash out. "I was really attracted to you," Ross continued. "But I never felt like you understood me." Eugene shook his head. "I didn't," he admitted. "I thought you wanted to have fun, same as me. Just wish you could have told me." "Path of least resistance," Ross said. "It wasn't that we disagreed, but I'd been feeling less and less involved." Eugene touched Ross' hands, where they rested on the kitchen table. "I'd wondered if you were seeing someone else," Eugene said. "Only my thesis," Ross said. Eugene let go of Ross' hands and refilled his mug. "Hope you don't mind if I get drunk. It's been a shit of a day." "It has," Ross agreed. Ross helped Eugene to stagger to his grandfather's bed some time later. The sheets weren't particularly clean and the room smelled musty, but Eugene was drunk enough that none of these things mattered and he just crawled unsteadily into the bed, still fully dressed. Ross put a bottle of the 127


drinking water on the dresser beside the bed and pulled the covers over Eugene. Eugene curled up on his side and smiled unsteadily at Ross. "He's cute," he said, slurring his words. "I forgive you." "Sleep well," Ross said, and he turned the bedroom light off and closed the door. Peeling his clothes off in the living room, with the wood fire only a damped-down red glow was chilly, but under the blankets, with Geoff and Dog for heat, was warm. Geoff murmured and rolled over, dislodging Dog and sending the animal to the hearth grumbling. "How do you feel?" Ross whispered, and Geoff's arms slid around him, pulling him close. "Sleepy still," Geoff said. "Glad you're here with me. Thought you might go sleep in the other room, for diplomatic reasons." "Eugene is out cold," Ross said, sighing as Geoff's hand slid up his back slowly and his fingers worked into the back of Ross' hair, pulling the plait undone, unwinding the strands. "Good," Geoff murmured, burying his face against Ross' neck and nipping at his skin, before moving to kiss him. Geoff's chest felt weird to touch, random patches of it having been shaved that day in the hospital, but his belly was warm, the muscles jumping and twitching under Ross' fingertips. His cock uncurled in Ross' hand when he cupped it carefully, and Ross' touches made Geoff kiss him harder. "Fancy some life-affirmation?" Ross asked when Geoff had lifted his mouth to try and draw a breath. 128


"Fancy you," Geoff whispered. "Fancy fucking you, slow as I can." The wood in the fire settled, shifting and cracking, and Dog sighed in his sleep. The blanket slipped off Ross' shoulder, the air crisp and cold, but Geoff's mouth was trailing heat and wetness down Ross' belly, and his fingers pushed between Ross' thighs. Ross twisted a little, then Geoff dragged a rough fingertip over his arse, the sweetest fire, and his mouth slid down Ross' cock, stubble scraping and lips sliding. The tighter the muscles in Ross' body became, the looser his mind was, letting go of the stress and fear, so that he was melting into the bedding and the bare wooden boards beneath him. There were truths to be had, about being alive and wanting to he touched, about how his heart pounded so hard in his chest that it hurt, about Geoff, too. Then there was the burning in his body, the way his cock felt in Geoff's mouth, two—no, three—fingers inside him, working and twisting, slick with lube, but he was coming, keeping his gasps muffled, his own fingers pushed into his mouth to keep himself quiet. Geoff kissed him, pushing the fingers aside, mouth was full of come, hands working into Ross' hair. "Ready for me?" Geoff whispered against Ross' ear, making Ross scrabble through the bedding to find the tube of lube. Ross could feel lube sliding down his thighs, and it took a moment of fumbling in the dark, then the insides of Ross' eyelids were painted with fireworks as Geoff eased into him. 129


Geoff's breathing was loud in the silent room, and it took a moment until Ross could let go enough to be able to breathe, too. "Is that good?" Geoff's lips whispered against Ross' neck, then he pulled back a little, slid back in gently and slowly, and Ross whimpered. The blankets fell off Geoff's back when Ross dragged his fingertips down skin, but it wasn't cold any longer, not with the warmth of Geoff over him. Ross' body was heavy, his orgasm still lingering, and the rock of Geoff's hips picked him up again, so his cock was thick against his belly, rubbing against the hair on Geoff's body, coaxing him on. They moved slowly; each rock was careful and considered, Geoff's mouth pressed against Ross' collarbone, so that his gasps were muffled. There came a moment when Geoff's cock was a bar of steel inside Ross and his mouth was liquid as he shook and gasped. In the darkness, Geoff held Ross close and wrapped one strong hand around Ross' cock and took him over the edge a second time. Geoff pulled the blankets back over them, and Ross closed his eyes contentedly, soothed by Geoff's fingers stroking his back, tracing the bumps of his spine. He was too tired to stay awake, no matter how good it felt to be held.

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Chapter 9 The light was pale gray when Ross woke, the swag beside him empty. He could hear Geoff in the kitchen, the kettle hissing, the smell the coffee on the air. Dog's claws clicked on the wooden floor, his nose pressing damply against Ross' back when Ross rolled over. "Yes, please," he said quietly, and Geoff appeared around the corner from the kitchen. He was wearing jeans and a thick sweater, stubble dense enough to count as a beard, and his smile was warm and affectionate when he squatted down in front of Ross. "Yes, what?" Geoff asked, and he stroked Ross' scalp gently, smoothing his hair. "Coffee," Ross said. "And isn't it horribly early?" "'Bout six," Geoff said. "Sun's not up yet, but there's a lot of work to be done, before the next front comes through. I want to get the bore running today, for a start." Ross sat up and pulled the blankets around his shoulders against the morning chill. He could smell the frost outside, the sharp sting of ice in the air. "Are you up to it?" Ross asked, and he could feel his forehead creasing. "What about the spider bite?" Geoff pushed the sleeve of his sweater up, and his forearm was unmarked apart from a spreading bruise. "See? All gone, and I feel fine." Ross touched Geoff's forearm, the dark purple of the bruise and smooth skin around it. 131


"Hey there," Geoff whispered. "No need to get upset about it, it's over now." Ross wiped the back of his hand over his face and nodded. "Coffee?" he asked. Geoff pressed his lips against Ross' forehead. "Sure." **** The ground crackled under Ross' boots, the sun hadn't jumped over the horizon to burn the frost off, and when he pissed against the shed, the condensation from the stream curled around his knees. When he opened the shed door, flies buzzed and battered, and Ross grimaced at the 'roo carcass that was still suspended from the roof girder. He wasn't sure how long an un-refrigerated carcass would last, but since there'd been a frost overnight, it shouldn't be fly struck. It was a problem for later. The sun rose behind clouds while Geoff fiddled with the bore, replacing the burnt out motor, finishing dropping the line. Geoff stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans, and said, "Righto, want to throw the switch, see if she pumps?" Ross stood up, too, and looked at Geoff. "Just like that?" he asked. "Don't you have to perform further arcane and esoteric acts?" "What do you want?" Geoff asked, chuckling. "A bloody ribbon to cut?" "Perhaps not," Ross agreed, bending over and flicking the switch on the power board. The bore hummed, and a moment 132


later crystal clear water gushed out of a length of reticulation piping, pouring across the muddy ground. The pair of them leaped around like idiots, hugging and shouting, and the water just kept right on running, until Geoff disengaged himself from Ross' arms and leaned over to switch it off again. "First thing," he said. "We get the piping to the stock primed and running, then I'm going to put some kind of waterproof shelter over the pump and board." **** Ross found Eugene sitting miserably at the kitchen table when he went in to make more coffee, some time after Geoff had made him take the partially refilled Furphy tank out to the front paddock, to prime the water line from that end. "Oh God," Eugene said, putting his forehead on his hands, on the table. "Please make it stop being daytime." "Hung over?" Ross asked, and Eugene nodded without lifting his head. "I'm dying," he said pathetically, glancing up when Ross put a bottle of water on the table in front of him. "Have you got some electrolyte replacement fluid?" "Must have," Ross said, remembering to clatter quietly in the pantry. There was a jar of electrolyte powder, though the contents were a solid lump when Ross took the lid off. He chipped some chunks off the block of orange stuff and shook them into a mug, then added some still-warm water from the kettle, stirring hard to dissolve the lumps before putting the cup in front of Eugene. 133


"Why doesn't the shower work?" Eugene asked pathetically. "Why isn't this place a luxury hotel?" "Shower will work soon," Ross said. "The bore is running again. Give us half an hour, then you can shower." "And the toilet?" Eugene asked. Eugene was right, a few days without water and the toilet was grim. "Piss outside, until the water comes back on," Ross said. "Bacon and eggs?" Eugene said hopefully. "Anchovies and poached eggs? Smoked salmon and cream cheese on toast?" "I could find you some cereal," Ross said. "Or you could stop whining." "Have to whine," Eugene said petulantly. "It spreads the misery around. I'll take the cereal and some coffee." There was a pack of long life milk in the pantry, and a box of Weet Bix, so Ross set them on the table in front of Eugene, and then found him a bowl and a spoon. Eugene ate in pained silence while Ross made coffee for them both, then Ross sat down at the table and pushed Eugene's mug across to him. "Feeling better?" Ross asked, after Eugene had eaten two bowls of cereal and drunk both the coffee and the electrolyte replacement drink. "Not dying now," Eugene said, leaning across the table a little to touch Ross' hand for a moment. "What do you want me to do with your stuff that's at my place?" "There's not much is there?" Ross asked, trying to remember. "Some books and clothes?" "Not a lot," Eugene said. 134


"If you could just box it all up, I'll pick it up next time I'm in the city." Eugene nodded. "Or I could drop the box off at your mum's place." "I'm sure Mum would love to catch up with you," Ross said. Eugene nodded, and Ross said, "Guess I'm going to miss you." He could hear the bore chugging, and the water splashing into the holding tank for the hot water system. Geoff was whistling outside, and one of the horses whinnied. "I'll miss you, too," Eugene said. "I may still feel the need for a little post-break-up drinking and fucking, but I think I'm going to be all right." "Grab a shower," Ross said, standing up. "Then I'll go drag your car out of the mud." **** Geoff dropped the coil of piping he had over his shoulder and wandered over to where Ross was rummaging through the tractor shed. "What've you lost?" he asked, leaning against the workbench, after checking it for spiders. "Tow rope, or chains," Ross said. "Got to pull Eugene's car out." Geoff bent down and peered under the workbench. "Think the rope is underneath here," he said. "But you might want to put some gloves on before you touch anything." Ross waved a hand clad in a leather work glove at Geoff. "Ahead of you," he said, smiling at Geoff. 135


It took the two of them to drag the mess of rope and chain out of the shed and into the sunlight, spiders of all sorts scurrying for shelter from the daylight, and Geoff took a certain pleasure in using his thick-soled boots to squash all the red backs. It probably counted as therapy. He had plans, to clear the sheds and spray large amounts of poison around, so this was just the beginning. Eugene appeared, hair still wet from the shower, just as they were loading an intact length of chain onto the back of the tractor, and Geoff found himself walking through the front paddock beside Eugene, hands weighted down by U-bolts for the chains, while Ross drove the tractor, chugging ahead of them. "Thank you," Geoff said to Eugene. "I don't remember much about yesterday, except that you looked after me while Ross drove." Eugene shrugged. "I would have done it for anyone. I'm the first aid officer at work; there was no way I was going to not help." "I appreciate it," Geoff said. "It can't have been pleasant." "Can't say it was," Eugene admitted. "But it was no worse than helping out at a rave, doing first aid. Look, I'm not sure what the proper etiquette is for handing a lover over to his next partner, but look after Ross for me, all right?" "There probably isn't any etiquette," Geoff said. "But I promise I'll look after him." Ross had parked the tractor in front of Eugene's sedan by that time, and was on his hands and knees in front of the sedan, a length of chain in his hands. 136


"Not a lot of access?" Geoff asked, squatting down beside Ross and peering into the mud, which was up to the bumper. "Nope," Ross said. "But there's a spade on the tractor, if you want to grab it and start digging." Digging vehicles out was something Geoff had substantial personal experience with, from working out bush, so he handed the U-bolts to Eugene and hefted the spade off the tractor. It only took a couple of minutes to dig around the front of the wheel assemblies, then Geoff took the length of chain off Ross and worked his arm around, threading each chain under the wheel assembly and attaching it with a U-bolt. An old Land Rover, you could just toss a chain around the front axle or bumper, but a little plastic sedan with front wheel drive was a tricky beast to drag out of mud, and Geoff was completely coated in muck before he got the second chain fitted and passed out the front of the car. "Hook her up," he called out to Ross, grabbing the wing of the car with one hand to pull himself upright and leaving a muddy handprint on the banana yellow duco. "Eugene, you'd better take the hand brake off." Ross was almost as muddy as he was, hooking the two chains together, and then to the back of the tractor. The tractor whirred a little, and there was a loud sucking noise as it dragged the little sedan forward, up and out of the mud. Geoff scrambled through the mud, unlatching the front gate to the farm and heaving it open, while Ross circled in the paddock, the little car leaving long furrows behind it. 137


Ross drove the tractor and car right through the front gate and up onto the gravel shoulder of the road, then left the tractor idling and hopped down. Unchaining the car was far easier, and much less muddy. Eugene, relatively mud free, stood on the shoulder of the road and dug car keys out of his jeans. "Thanks," he said, and for a moment he looked like maybe he was going to get emotional, then he hugged Ross quickly. "I'll be in touch," he said, and then he hopped into his car and slammed the door. They stayed beside the tractor, watching as Eugene pulled out onto the road, the sedan shedding mud with each rotation of its wheels, until Eugene and his car were a yellow dot in the distance. Geoff slid an arm around Ross' shoulders and hugged him. "Let's go fix this farm," he said. **** Gray clouds rolled in from the south-west, promising more rain and another front. That was fine; there were sacks of lucerne seed in the tractor shed, ready to seed. It could rain as much as it liked. By the time Ross had done the rounds with the tractor, taking lucerne to the cattle, Geoff had dug the anchor bolt attachment for his power drill out of the tool box and had started in on dismantling the back of the horse pen. Dino was right there, in the way, while Muffy hung back, possibly worried by the whir of the drill. 138


The gate clanked, and Ross said, "There's something wrong with the fence, right?" "Nope," Geoff said, around the anchor bolt he was holding in his mouth. He took the bolt out and held it out to Ross, who took it from him. "Horses need at least a hectare each, this pen's only about an eighth of a hectare." "So you're going to give them the feed paddock, too?" Ross asked. "Won't they just eat the fodder?" "Not going to seed this paddock, at least not to lucerne," Geoff said, pausing while the drill whirred on reverse, pulling the next anchor bolt out, and then handing it to Ross. "I don't know if you've met my grandfather," Ross said. "Fearsome bloke, mad as a cut snake. He's possibly going to have opinions." Geoff laughed and put the drill aside, then lifted the top railing off its posts and leaned it against the next rail. "I know your grandfather. He's got what? Four hundred hectares here?" Ross nodded. "About that. The big front paddock, the fodder paddocks, and the bush block there, up that hill." Ross pointed and Geoff nodded. "So, a hundred hectares in the front paddock, a couple more for the bull. House block, horse pen, bush block. That leaves two-fifty for fodder. With two fifty hectares of crop, he could support a couple hundred cattle, at least. Maybe more, if he was prepared to keep the 'roos out of the crop and put some super phosphate into the soil. And he's running forty head. He can spare a paddock for the horses." "He's still going to spit the dummy." 139


Geoff looked around the yard, Furphy tank on a crumbling trailer, yard littered with broken machinery, house partially stripped of guttering by Ross. "Way I see it, if you and I can get this place sorted out before he comes home, he'll forgive us just about anything, including letting his beloved horse have some more space." "If he starts yelling, I'll hide behind you," Ross said. "You're big." "I'm hiding behind Dino," Geoff said. "I'm sure he'll protect both of us." He picked up the drill again. "Give me a hand with this; let's get these rails out of the way." **** Geoff took over cooking that night, sending a rain-cold Ross off to have a hot shower while he cooked up a feed. He had 'roo meat, big slabs of haunch, from the one he'd slaughtered. The rest of the 'roo was in the meat fridge, waiting to be packed up and frozen, and Dog had a leg, which he was mauling happily on the verandah. Geoff poured cooking oil over the 'roo, smeared it with garlic paste that he'd found in the fridge, covered it with foil, and pushed it into the oven. He'd found some potatoes that weren't too green, in the pantry, and had stuck them into the oven, too. Finding something to eat that was actually supposed to be green was trickier, apart from frozen peas that hadn't made the trip to the hospital the day before, so they'd have to do. He cracked another can of beer and stacked the accrued dirty plates in the sink. It was raining, just a steady fall, not a 140


deluge, and it was a pity the guttering wasn't in place, but that couldn't be helped. They had bore water for washing, and once Ross was through showering, Geoff was going to stand under the water and scrub himself. Ross appeared a couple of minutes later, towel around his waist, another around his hair. "Might wash some dishes," Ross said, squeezing his towel wrapped hair. "The bore water should be good enough for that." Geoff shrugged. "Wash them, and we can rinse them in drinking water. I'm going to go shower now." He rubbed his face. "Might manage to shave, too." He glanced back, just as he pushed the bathroom door open, and Ross was patting at his hair with the towel, considering the mountain of dishes. The shower was hot, and it was a huge relief to be able to wash properly, even if the soap barely sudsed in the hard water from the bore. Geoff started at his feet and scoured his way up his body, washing away grit and sweat. His arse was a little raw, where Ross had fucked him a couple of nights before, but it was a good feeling, and the thought of what they might do that night made Geoff's cock stir. He washed his hair, shaved in the hand mirror that hung in the shower recess, and then turned the taps off. Ross had put on a robe and was washing dishes, his hair hanging loose and damp down his back. "Dinner will be a little while," Geoff said, hugging Ross from behind. "Want me to untangle your hair?" Ross abandoned the dishes and sat on the floor, in front of the couch. The news was on the telly, volume right down, but 141


Geoff didn't listen to it. He picked up the wet mass of Ross' hair and began to comb the ends out. The hard water wasn't good for hair; if there'd been more rainwater, Geoff would have rinsed Ross' hair out. No rainwater, despite the steady drum of rain on the tin roof; they'd have to get the guttering up in a hurry. Ross sighed and Geoff teased out a knot, working carefully with the comb. "I should feel something more," Ross said. "But I don't." "What sort of something more?" Geoff asked, moving up to the next knot. "Regret, perhaps," Ross said. "I should be more concerned about Eugene. I must be really shallow." "Maybe you're just relieved to not be with him," Geoff said. "I can't see someone who ponders the nature of happiness as shallow." Ross was quiet, and the telly moved on to footie, with some large bloke in a suit making excuses for the Dockers. "I am relieved," Ross said, and he bent forward, his forehead resting on his knees. It took Geoff a moment to realize that Ross was crying. Ross didn't weigh much more than a month old calf, easy to lift up and move across to the pile of bedding, arms wound around Geoff's neck while Geoff pulled his robe open. It took time, touching Ross slowly, coaxing and kissing, for his grip on Geoff to loosen, but when he did, he was warm and clean. It was easy to slide into him and rock slowly, until they were both moaning and it was as good as it could possibly be. 142


Ross' head settled on Geoff's shoulders, and Geoff ran his fingers gently through Ross' hair, where it was beginning to dry. "Granddad suggested we move out to the donga," Ross said, and he sounded peaceful. "If you can get the power on out there." "Sounds like a plan," Geoff said. He was used to living rough, a donga counted as luxury, and the idea of being able to sleep wrapped around Ross every night made him smile. "He fancies your mum, too," Ross said. "He told me." "Really?" Geoff said. "She says he's a rude old bastard, a few snags short of a barbecue. Don't think he's got a chance there." "Suspect your dad might have something to say about it, too," Ross said. "Roo smells cooked, you ready for some dinner?" "Starving."

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Epilogue Each time Granddad spotted something, he made a disapproving cluck. The front gate, new latch and hinges. The next gate. The weed-free yard. The new guttering, gleaming in the winter sunshine. Ross parked the Land Rover under the gums, and then came around to undo the passenger door. Granddad lowered himself carefully, with Ross' arms and his crutches steadying him, Dog leaping up ecstatically until Ross scooped him up and put him on the car bonnet. "Geoff is seeding," Ross said. "He'll be around later, looking for coffee, no doubt." "Muffy?" Granddad said, and he hobbled over to the empty horse pen. "Where's my bloody horse?!" "Calm down," Ross said. "She's in the paddock." The two horses, Dino in the lead, came charging across the larger paddock, through the missing section of the horse pen fence, and across to the humans. Muffy made happy noises, pressing her muzzle against Granddad, nuzzling him while he stroked her neck. Ross patted Dino, in the interests of equity. "Has anyone been riding you?" Granddad asked Muffy. "Have they been neglecting you?" "I ride her," Ross said. "Geoff's been teaching me." "Hope he's been teaching you right," Granddad said. "Hope he's not been teaching you dressage, she's a working horse not a bloody hack." 144


"She rides without a bit now," Ross said. "Happy as anything." Muffy swung her head sideways, bopping Dino aside so Ross could pat her, and then turned her attention back to Granddad. "Damn fool..." Granddad muttered, but Ross didn't think he was displeased. "What else have you boys been up to that I'm going to be able to stand to hear about?" "Started seeding last week," Ross said. "Lucerne, clover and wheat. Geoff has run the slasher down the race, says he's going to burn off later, get rid of the snakes." Granddad leaned his head against Muffy's, arms around her neck, his crutches dangling from his elbows. "Hope he's seeding right," he said. "He does know what he's doing, doesn't he?" Ross patted his grandfather's back. "It's all taken care of." "How long you boys staying for?" Granddad asked, his worn hand twining in Muffy's mane. "'Til spring," Ross said. "You should be fine by then. Then we're heading north. Geoff is going to work the summer, through the wet in the Kimberly, while I finish this bloody thesis, then we'll be back to take the fodder crops in for you." Granddad grumped, then said, "Show me the cattle; I want to see the new calves." "We didn't lose any," Ross said, hand stabilizing Granddad while he organized his crutches. "Geoff wants to talk to you about running a few more head of cattle." Granddad smiled, bracing himself on his crutches. "He could be right," he said. "I'd thought about increasing the 145


herd, as an investment to give you a bit of start in life, but maybe I should just leave you the farm instead. I'd thought you were a city brat, but you're settling in fine here." "You can talk to Mum and Aunty Jo about that," Ross said. "No reason why you can't keep working the farm until you drop dead, if I give you a hand." It took time for Granddad to hobble across the yard, past the tractor shed, peering into the new pump shed, poking at the wrecked Furphy trailer with a crutch. In the distance, if Ross shaded his eyes, he could see the tractor pulling the seeding rig, in the far paddock. The figure on the tractor lifted his hat and waved it, and Ross waved back. "When you going to get a haircut?" Granddad asked. "You look like a girl with that plait." "Not anytime soon," Ross said. "So you'd better get over it." "Damn fool young folk," Granddad said, as he shuffled up to the front paddock fence. "Ah, but they're in good condition," he said. "Looking mighty fine." The cattle were spread out across the paddock, grazing the knee high weed growth, or chewing their cud, plump and sleek, calves bounding beside their mothers. Ross could spot the twins, both suckling from their long-suffering mother. His grandfather slung an arm around Ross' shoulder, crutch swinging wildly. "Thank you, m'boy," he said. "Thank you." END 146


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