Ryan glumly surveyed the spilled grocery stands and their contents scattered across the store floor.
‘Who owns it?’ Jaime asked.
‘It’s Nanny Burgess’s goat,’ said Ryan, looking even glummer.
‘But I thought she passed away after tripping over the pig when she was trying to surf?’
‘Well, yes, she did, but Skinner took over her place as a weekender and inherited the goat – which he loves incidentally, I don’t know why – and now he’s gone away and dumped it on my doorstep. Apparently he’s back in a couple of days.’
‘So put it on a rope and tie it up out the back.’
‘I tried,’ said Ryan. ‘It chewed through the rope.’
‘What about a chain?’
‘Pulled its way loose.’
‘A heavier chain?’
‘C’mon, JJ – Jaime – please. Help me out here. I’m busy. I haven’t got time for this.’ He tried to look coy. ‘I gave you a ride home the other day, didn’t I?’
He did, darn it. And the procession of four-wheel-drives coming through was constantly disgorging tribes of bored kids. But what would Stirling think of a goat on the property? Bugger Stirling. This was her decision. And technically she was employed by Valerie.
‘Alright. Only for two nights though, okay?’
But Ryan was gone.
He was back two minutes later with a bag of pellets and a mewling kid, as in a little goat. It was so cute with its spotted brown and white coat, long floppy ears, huge chocolate eyes and curling lashes.
‘Awwww,’ was all she could say. That was until the nanny goat butted Jaime’s already sore and bruised behind so she would get out of the way. ‘Hey!’ she exclaimed, clutching her bottom as she was shoved to one side.
The nanny goat didn’t care. She was too busy snickering and sniffing at her little one.
‘That’s the problem,’ said Ryan. ‘She just wants to be with this little bloke and he won’t stay still.’
So it wasn’t just one goat, it was two.
‘Oh, and you’ll need this as well.’
Ryan pulled another lead from behind his back, then moved to one side to show her a sheep. A freaking sheep!
‘What the –’
‘Yeah, it thinks it’s a goat too.’
Jaime rolled her eyes. ‘Ryan, I don’t –’
‘You’ll be fine, Jaime, really you will. Let me help you load them onto the ute. They’ll just stand there like dogs, don’t worry.’
Of course she was worried! What was Stirling going to say now? It wasn’t as if Polly’s Plains was her place!
‘Valerie would do the same if she was here,’ said Ryan, as if reading her mind.
‘Really?’
‘Absolutely. She’s a small-animal vet, isn’t she?’
‘Mmmmm.’ Oh God, she even sounded like Marble Man now. ‘Okay, but you’d better come and get them in two days. And don’t send Skinner!’
Ryan hoisted the two goats and one sheep into the back of Valerie’s ute – which Jaime was being extra careful not to kill again – and tied them up to the back window grille like a trio of mutts. Terrific. Now she not only acted like a dill, she looked like one too.
‘Skinner normally drives them around like this?’
‘Yep. This is how he commutes between Lake Grace and the Gap.’
‘Mmmmm.’
‘Thanks, Jaime. You can have your cream on the house.’
Damned expensive cream was her only thought as she drove away. The maaa-ing and baaa-ing from the back indicated her three passengers agreed.
Dave laughed so hard his belly wobbled up and down. Marty was just as bad. She wanted to kill them both. Well, maybe not Dave, as even she could see the joke. But Marty – well, he hadn’t earned the right to laugh at her expense yet. He probably never would.
‘And just where are you going to put them?’ asked Blanche, staring with distaste at the three animals standing in the tray of the ute.
Jaime pointed behind the house. ‘In the back garden. There are some blackberry bushes in there I haven’t been able to tame.’
‘Good luck with that,’ said Stirling, appearing from nowhere, obviously drawn by the sounds of hilarity. ‘Those fences won’t keep much in.’
‘Well, have you got any other suggestions?’ asked Jaime, hands on her hips.
She really didn’t want to argue with him, but seriously. Plus she was still smarting from the horse incident and Tiffany’s attitude. She hadn’t seen the girl leave. She must have gone while Jaime was down at the Gap.
Stirling shrugged. ‘They’re all rats of the paddock as far as I’m concerned.’
Right. Obviously he didn’t like goats – or sheep for that matter. Thank goodness he hadn’t seen the kid yet. It was squashed against the back window.
‘Mahhhh.’
Okay, revise that.
‘Hey, little fella,’ said the man who hated goats. He pushed the sheep sideways to give the kid some room to poke out its nose. Ruffled the little creature’s long ears. It was apparently used to being handled as it leant into the stroke rather than away from it. ‘You coming to stay a while too?’
Jaime’s heart just melted. Full on dissolved into the dirt. How did he do that? One minute she was breathing fire and they were fencing with words like experienced duellers; the next minute she wanted to jump on whatever part of him was available and kiss it until she turned blue.
Those big hands caressing her …
Argh!
‘You need to get them settled,’ he said. ‘It’ll be dark soon. It’s better if they know their way around before then.’
Chapter 30
Twenty-four hours later and Jaime was wishing the animals didn’t know their way around quite so well.
She was on her own at the homestead. Stirling had taken Marty and Dave hunting. The big stockman had been happy enough to take out Jaime’s stepfather, but from the look on his face Marty was a totally different story. To his credit though, Marty didn’t say a thing when Stirling climbed into the driver’s seat of Marty’s ute. He just clambered onto the back and sat like a well-trained pup.
The three men were welcome to each other as far as Jaime was concerned. She and the garden had a date. As she walked around the outside of the house, she counted the hours until Marty left for good. Now the hunting trip was finally underway, it would be only one more sleep and poof he’d be gone. In fact, they might all go. Yay! Dave was okay, but Blanche – currently in Lake Grace doing some shopping – was getting on Jaime’s nerves. She seemed to think Jaime wasn’t trying hard enough to reel in Stirling.
‘For goodness sake, put on some make-up, do your hair, dress up and go down there right now.’ That had been last night’s advice.
‘And do what, Mother? Splay myself across his bed?’
‘Well, if that’s what it takes …’
‘The short answer is no. The long answer is no way. I can’t compete with Tiffany and I shouldn’t have to. He can take me as I am or not at all.’
So much for the brave words. She’d lain awake half the night replaying their recent conversations, looking for different ways to interpret things he’d said. She relived their love making like a video on YouTube. But she always came back to the same thing over and over. Tiffany was a country girl. She belonged here, like Stirling did. And she’d declared her love for him in the most public manner possible. Stirling hadn’t denied it. In fact, he hadn’t say anything at all, even when the cow had been at her most arrogant. Why was that? Plus, he hadn’t come home the night of the talent quest. The contest Tiffany had won! Add to that the horse incident and, to Jaime’s mind, you had undeniable proof that Tiffany was waaa-y out in front. And there was nothing Jaime could do about it. Worse, she was positive Tiffany would have known exactly what to do in the same situation.
Stirling had left his dogs behind while he took Dave and Marty hunting, and they kept Jaime company while she spent a few happy hours in the garden she was coa
xing back to life. The sun wasn’t too hot, and there was a cool breeze. The bees were buzzing, wrens were flitting to and fro, and in the ancient gum trees down by the river, flocks of cockatoos were screeching. A lone cow mooed somewhere nearby. All in all it was a lovely summer’s day.
Dodge was lying at her side, keeping a wary eye on the Busters, and the goats and the sheep were grazing contentedly in the back garden.
Or so she thought, until she went to get herself a glass of water. Sometime in the preceding hour Blanche had arrived home, dumped the groceries in the centre of the kitchen table and taken herself off for, Jaime assumed, a lie-down. For some reason she hadn’t unpacked the shopping. But someone else had.
Or should she say three someone elses.
Peering through the kitchen window on the way to the back door, Jaime could hardly believe what she was seeing. The nanny goat was up on the table and munching happily on a bunch of celery tops. The kid was up there too, stomping on a hand of bananas as it tried to get close to its mother. The sheep was browsing around on the floor, shoving at the bags that the goat had obviously pushed off the table. Busters One and Two were in there as well, forgetting they were supposed to be cattle/sheep/goat dogs in their rush to wolf down the torn packets of meat now dripping blood onto the floor. Jaime even spied Dodge’s grey tail flicking to and fro amidst the disarray.
She gaped in horror at the mess. Fresh vegies and fruit were splayed in all directions over the table and floor, some intact, but most eaten or trampled to mush. Jaime felt faint. What would Valerie say if she saw her beautiful country kitchen now? She needed to do something, quickly!
She raced to the back door, practically flew through the closed-in back verandah and skidded to a halt at the kitchen door. All the animals looked up in mild surprise.
The baby goat said ‘Maaa’ and dived off the table, landing with all four legs spread out on the floor. It picked itself up, shook its head, then jumped onto a chair, trying to get to its mother’s udder, which was swinging like a pendulum on a clock.
‘Shoo, shoo,’ Jaime said, which was entirely ineffective. Six pairs of eyes glanced up at her, then they all dropped their heads and kept on eating.
Obviously more encouragement was needed. Pronto. But how to get them out of the kitchen without letting them into the rest of the house? She knew from experience that if she wanted them to go in one direction, they’d go in the other. Particularly the sheep and goats.
She edged around towards the passage door and shut it, blocking off the rest of the house. She then tried to herd them towards the verandah and back door with her hands and voice. ‘C’mon. Out you go!’
She gave the sheep’s behind a good shove. It looked around, startled, then moved reluctantly towards the open door. The nanny goat wasn’t so easily persuaded – she was determined to stand her ground on top of the table. Giving up on her for the minute, Jaime kept pushing at the sheep. ‘Go on, out, out, out!’
It baaed with dismay at leaving its mates but Jaime wasn’t giving an inch. She kept on pushing and prodding until she had that sheep outside the back door and a way down the concrete path. She then turned and ran back towards the house, calling the dogs in a gruff voice, hoping they’d think she was Stirling. Unfortunately they weren’t that stupid.
Back at the kitchen door, she saw the rest of the motley mob were still eating with gusto. She grabbed at the Busters’ collars and reefed them away from the dripping meat – lamb, she was guessing, for tonight’s barbecue – and dragged them yelping out the door.
Dodge had found his favourite meal, Dine, amongst the shopping, but it was in a sealed can, which wasn’t making him happy. His meowing upset the kid, which was still hopping around trying to access its mother’s udder. The nanny goat slipped off the edge of the table, two hooves on and two hooves off, but recovered by precariously perching against the back of a chair, using it as a prop to get back at her free meal.
Jaime pulled at the goat’s collar but the animal reefed obstinately the other way, sending Jaime flying to the floor. There was no way this goat was going to be dragged away from this good a meal!
She sat and thought for a minute. Then got up and steeled herself for a battle of wills.
She hauled on the goat’s collar with all her might and succeeded in getting it down off the table and chair. She dragged it protesting out the kitchen door – only to see the sheep heading straight towards her at a clip, and the dogs skulking around the edges of the closed-in porch. She couldn’t let go of the goat to grab at the sheep. And the kid was maaa-ing furiously because his mother – his milkbar – was being unceremoniously dragged away.
Eventually she managed to get the goat out the door, hurriedly tied it to a verandah post with a handy piece of baling twine, and returned for the sheep. It had made it back into the kitchen, as had the dogs, and they were all eating like it was the last meal of their lives. Which it might be if Jaime had anything to do with it!
She reassessed the situation. Maybe if she managed to get the old and very stuck front door open, then closed all the doors leading off the passage, she would have a reasonable ‘race’ to herd the mob along. The thought flashed into her mind that Stirling would be proud of her use of farming terminology.
She was suddenly butted to one side by the nanny goat barrelling past, trailing frayed baling twine. The kid followed, still not managing to get a feed judging by his plaintive bleating. Geez!
Jaime edged her way around the kitchen for the second time and opened the door to the main passage through the house. She closed off all the doors along the passage, then spent many minutes pulling at the front doorknob. It felt like she was in a tug-of-war for a severely discounted pair of Jimmy Choos. Finally she won, and the old door moved a few milli metres, creaking and spitting slivers of paint from its hinges. She worked it back and forth a centimetre at a time until she eventually had it wide open. She propped open the wire screen with a lump of red gum from the garden, then headed back into the house. Jaime almost rubbed her hands together in anticipation. She’d teach that blasted nanny goat to be tricky.
Back in the kitchen, she attempted another round-up of goats, sheep, dogs and cat – although Dodge didn’t really count because he lived inside half the time. Unfortunately, the sheep took one look at her and headed for the back closed-in porch, while the goats went in the opposite direction, along the passage. Which should she follow first?
Jaime chose the goats. She went after them down the passage – her makeshift race – towards the front door and outside. Yes! She was going to do it this time!
She heard the dogs barking behind her and wondered why the cacophony hadn’t woken Blanche. Then realised her mother probably had earplugs in, so there would be no help from that quarter any time soon. She hoped the dogs had finally realised they were supposed to round up the sheep and goats, not play funny buggers with them.
She finally had the goats out on the front verandah. In a light bulb moment she decided to herd them into the back garden and lock them in. But the old nanny wasn’t having any of it. She rounded on Jaime, walloped her in the thigh with one rounded horn and took off like a howling north-westerly back into the house.
Jaime stood, hands on hips, and looked at the sky. ‘Why me, Dad?’ she pleaded. ‘Why me?!’ Seeing no answer was forthcoming from above, she gritted her teeth and steeled herself for attempt number five hundred and forty-three.
As she was outside already, she decided to head around to the back door in the vain hope the goats were still outside and the sheep had been herded towards the passage by the dogs, which would bring them out the front of the house. No such luck. She looked in the kitchen window as she went by and there they all were, polishing off the tasty meal they’d been forced to leave moments before. The goat was now tucking into the ice-cream Jaime had asked Blanche to buy. The lid must have come off the tub when it landed on the floor.
Time to bring out the big guns. She set her face in a livid expression – which di
dn’t take much seeing she was ready to kill the lot of them – and went barrelling through the back door. ‘GET OUT OF HERE, YOU BLASTED ANIMALS!’ she roared as she hit the kitchen running.
The animals went scrabbling backwards and through the door to the passage, the only exit open to them seeing as a shrieking banshee was blocking the other one. Claws, hooves and paws pounded down the passageway before flying out the front door onto the verandah.
Jaime piled after them, spilling onto the porch in time to see every animal disappearing around the corner of the house, running for their lives.
She grabbed the door and pulled like a desperate woman to get it closed. It took some time and effort as the door had obviously grown used to its new open state. Finally it was shut. She leant against the old wood and congratulated both herself and her father on their efforts. ‘Thanks, Dad. I knew you’d be there for me,’ she muttered.
After gathering herself together, she returned around the house to the back porch, glancing through the kitchen window to assess the damage. And there they all were, again, staring back at her. Every last one of them. A nanny goat and her kid, a sheep who wanted to be a goat, two dogs and the cat. Like they were saying, ‘Ha! And you thought you’d won!’
Chapter 31
‘Jaime?’ said a deep male voice right in her ear. ‘What’s wrong?’
She jumped in the air and landed at least a metre to the left. She’d been so busy crying outside the kitchen window she hadn’t heard Marty’s ute return.
Stirling put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. She didn’t want him seeing her like this. She was sure Tiffany would have dealt with the situation a whole lot better.
The big man sat down next to her, then wriggled sideways a little, as if he thought she didn’t want him close to her. But she did. She wanted him to fold her in those big strong arms and make it all okay. She glanced across to see if he was looking at her. What she saw in his eyes for an unguarded moment made her catch her breath. But then it was gone, leaving her thinking the hurt, the wanting, the hunger, hadn’t been there at all.
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