Fenced-In Felix

by Cheyenne Blue

  Warm and nebulous feelings of anticipation surged through me, pleasure that Josie wanted to spend more time out here. But then, she probably wanted simply to get away from the pub and Worrindi. Living on the premises as she did, she was always on call. Part of the problem of working bar in a small town was that most everyone knew you, and even when you were off duty, the perception of availability continued. I concentrated on her face as I replied, “There’s some good tent sites closer to Birragum Creek. Quiet. You’d be surprised at how many people want to be near to the toilet block.”

  “Not me. I like my own space. When I’m moving on, I never stop in campgrounds. I just find somewhere quiet and pull over by the side of the road. I’ve only ever been asked to leave a couple of times, once because I was trespassing and once by the police because I was too close to the edge of town.”

  “You could just do that here, if you wanted. Honestly, you don’t have to stay in a campground. The whole outback is one enormous quiet place to pull over.”

  She laughed. “Are you putting me off?”

  “No! I’d be delighted if you stayed over. But don’t feel obliged.”

  “I’d like to. It’s lovely here. With the added bonus of a hot shower. At least, I assume it’s hot?”

  “Of course.”

  We’d reached the barn as we chatted, and I led the way around the back. I dismounted and loosened Ben’s girth. Josie followed suit, but her movements were slower. She’d be quite stiff come morning. I led Ben into the barn, and she followed with Patch.

  The ride was over, and I had a million and one things I had to do. Still, I lingered.

  “Big barn,” Josie said. “Stalls for twelve. Were there more horses at one point?”

  “We had more when my parents were alive. Their horses, my two ponies. The main station also kept some here from time to time. We often had a couple of youngsters for breaking. I still take one occasionally, but I haven’t had any for a while.”

  Josie stood with her hand on Patch’s neck, the light filtering in through the gaps in the timber. She’d removed the helmet, and the sunlight turned her riotous hair into a halo of light. She wasn’t beautiful, in her mismatched old clothes, but she was intriguing. Part of me—a rather large part—was delighted I’d be seeing her again.

  The silence stretched. I couldn’t keep staring, so I jammed my hands in the pockets of my jeans. “Come up to the office, and we can settle up for the ride.”

  “The ride. Right.” There was a definite hint of amusement in her voice.

  I straightened my shoulders. Yes, I lived in a remote area, where the possibilities of finding a lover were Buckley‘s and Nunn, to use the well-loved expression. But it didn’t mean that because a fellow lesbian had appeared in my life, we were automatically going to fall into each other’s arms.

  I led the way to the office. It was at the front of the house and opened to the veranda, which made it easier for campers and tourists to find me. In the early days, before I’d got better signage, I’d been surprised in the shower by a wide-eyed pair of Spanish backpackers. Maybe they’d thought it was a quirky Australian custom to greet visitors wrapped only in a bath towel, but the next day, I’d gone into Worrindi and bought the biggest office sign I could find.

  Mum’s desk dominated the room; it was where she used to do the accounts. Now, it was where I attempted to do the accounts. Each year, I dreaded tax time.

  I sat at the desk and pulled out the cash box. Josie followed me in and looked at the array of photos on the wall. I knew what they were: my parents when they were young; Dad bull riding at the Isa rodeo; Mum barrel racing or working with a young horse; the two of them at the local picnic races, all dressed up in their finery. A couple of me as a child, earnest, with long plaits and a gap in my front teeth. One of me with a pony that I remembered well as it was such a bugger of a thing. Another with the first colt that I broke. A third of me and that same colt at the Isa show, clearing a fence by most of half a metre.

  “Your parents?” She stared at a photo of Mum and Dad.

  “Yeah. My father was head stockman at the main Jayboro Station. When he retired after working for Jayboro his whole life, the owners gifted him this house and the land that the barn and campground are on. Now they’re mine.”

  “Decent of them.” Her gaze switched to a photo of me and Patch. “There’s a lot of good people around here.” She swung around to face me. “That’s becoming a rarity. Sometimes it seems everyone’s just out for what they can get, and they don’t care who they shaft in the process.”

  Her voice was light. If she’d been shafted, she obviously hadn’t let it get to her. I watched the subtle play of muscles under her tanned skin, revealed by the scooped back of her singlet. Maybe she sensed my gaze as she turned and caught me staring. I averted my eyes, but her lips twitched as she said, “How much do I owe you?”

  I told her the amount and waited as she pulled a battered coin purse from her jeans and counted out some crumpled notes.

  “Thank you.”

  “Can I call you when I know my next days off? Chris and Madge are great, but it’s hard for them to know in advance sometimes.”

  “No worries. I can generally fit someone in at short notice.” I blew my breath out. “Even if I wish that wasn’t the case. It would be great if I were fully booked.”

  “One day. The word on the street is that outback tourism is booming.”

  “The street being Worrindi’s main drag?”

  “Yeah. But it is on the up. All the grey nomads on the move, people in their four-wheel drives escaping the pressures of the city.”

  “Maybe I should offer them a Back-to-Basics experience. They could sleep in my unfinished cabin and clean my toilet block. That would clear their head.”

  “Can’t see that one taking off somehow.” She picked up her hat. “I won’t hold you up. Those toilet blocks are singing your name. I’ll have a wander around, then head away. Thanks for the ride. I really enjoyed it.”

  “Me too.” The words were out before I could consider how they sounded—overly friendly for what was basically a customer. But I had enjoyed the ride—and Josie’s company.

  She smiled, jammed the hat on her head, and disappeared out into the sharp daylight.

  I opened the cash box and placed her money inside. I couldn’t sit around. I had a camp kitchen to clean.

  CHAPTER 3

  A week went past and, to my surprise, the new cabin was rented for five of the seven nights. Feedback from guests was generally positive: they loved the peace and location. Acting on a couple of suggestions, I started offering a dinner pack that guests could cook in the camp kitchen, as well as a couple of different breakfast packs. It hadn’t occurred to me that the people who usually stayed in towns wouldn’t have food with them. It meant I had to have more provisions on hand, but it made me a tidy profit.

  I also needed to get the second cabin up and running—and soon.

  It was now midwinter and the height of the outback tourist season. The days were pleasantly warm and sunny, the nights chilly enough that a campfire was a pleasure. Even the flies, one of the major annoyances of outback life, were few. This was potentially my busiest time of year, and I hoped to make enough to tide me over the summer months, when the heat and flies would become unbearable, and the wet season could make the roads impassable.

  It was also a good time for trail rides as the campers didn’t have to get up at an unearthly hour to make it bearable. But in summer, even if the trail rides dried up, the horses still needed attention. They didn’t go off to the coast with a surfboard; they were still here and still needed care and fodder.

  I sat in the office one evening, surrounded by the photos of my parents, and calculated how much it would cost me to get the second cabin open. It wasn’t a fortune; compared to the loan I already had from the bank, it was a very low amount. But I was reluctant to borrow more, if indeed the bank would stump up the finance. I was trying to set aside money to meet
the loan repayments over the summer. A little more on top of that would be a huge struggle.

  “What would you do, Mum?” I lifted my glass of water to her in the photo.

  I knew what her answer would have been. She would roll up her sleeves, find another hour in the day to work, and eat meatloaf for dinner for the fifth time that week without complaint, because it was cheap and easy to do.

  I resolved to get the second cabin open as soon as I could. Tomorrow, I would ring Matt at the main station and see if I could borrow his floor sander. I’d pick it up on the way to Worrindi to buy stain and varnish for the floorboards. I’d also see what furniture I could find in town. A trip to the Isa and the bigger stores would suck away a day.

  If I got lucky, if I put in the work, maybe I could get the second cabin open in a couple of weeks.

  I rose and headed for the door. It was late by my standards, nearly ten. The phone rang. For a second, I considered leaving it, but habit won out. Calls late at night in the outback were seldom trivial. But although I’d expected it to be a neighbour, someone from Jayboro Station, I recognised Josie’s voice immediately. It was brisk, like her manner, and from the background noise, she was in the Commercial.

  “Hey,” she said, and I liked that she felt she knew me well enough not to say who was calling. “I gotta be quick. I’m working, and they’re screaming for beer here. You’d think there was a drought.” Her amused snort echoed down the line. “But I was wondering if you could fit me in for a ride early tomorrow? I could be with you at seven. I can’t stay over as I have to work tomorrow night, but I’d love to come.”

  Mentally, I shredded the day I’d planned and refused to let myself think it was because of her. I’d do it for any tourist. A couple of hours trail ride money would help the finances. I’d go to town later.

  “Sure,” I said. “The earlier the better.”

  “No worries. I’ll see you tomorrow. Looking forward to it.” There was a pause, and her next words were obviously directed to someone in the bar. “Hang on, Ty. Your beer’s coming. We won’t run out in the meantime.” To me she said, “Gotta run. See you.”

  I was left staring at the phone in my hand, the dial tone buzzing.

  The next morning, one of the campers stopped me as I took my usual walk through the campground on the way to the barn. “Hi Felix, I was wondering if you had a spot on a ride this morning?”

  I didn’t know much about Dan. He was a solitary traveller, and he and his small campervan had been a fixture at the lower end of the camp area for the past few days. He seemed to spend most of his time writing on a laptop or watching the birdlife through binoculars. From what I’d seen of his van whenever I stopped for pleasantries, it was a home-made set up, with a single platform bunk and plastic containers for storage. I had him pegged as doing some sort of paper-pushing job or maybe something technical that didn’t require many people skills.

  I thought fast. “I have one other person coming at seven. If that’s not too soon for you, I can take you then. Otherwise, I’m afraid it will have to be tomorrow.”

  He gave a short nod and turned away into the van, leaving me to wonder if I’d offended him somehow. But he was back quick-smart with what looked like a bicycle helmet in his hand. “Thanks. I’m ready. I’ll come now.”

  I eyed the helmet, which was covered in plastic ties that stuck up and were supposed to stop magpies swooping. Clearly, he was a total beginner.

  “No rush. What sort of riding experience do you have?”

  “None,” he admitted. “Is that okay?”

  I hoped Josie wouldn’t be too mad, but I’d successfully taken people with disparate abilities before. I summoned my most reassuring smile, the one I used for worried mothers when I took their small children for an amble around the paddock. “Perfectly fine. I have a couple of quiet horses. I’ll see you over there.”

  Over at the barn, I grabbed three small buckets of feed, put them in the stalls, and opened them up. My small herd was gathered around the gate, like people waiting to board a bus. I opened the gate a crack and managed to let through the three horses I wanted: Patch, Ben, and a quiet mare called Smoke. The remaining three horses jostled at the gate, annoyed that they had missed out. But I only had enough to feed the horses that were working that day.

  I’d brushed Patch off and was starting on Ben when I heard footsteps. I peered underneath Ben’s belly as I brushed his forelegs, and saw mauve jeans walking towards me. I straightened. Josie walked down the centre aisle. She stopped at Patch’s stall to whisper nonsense to the mare.

  I stepped out from behind Ben’s bulk, and she caught sight of me. an unguarded initial smile lit her face, and she tilted her head to one side.

  “Hey.” It wasn’t my most inspired opening, but the pleasure on Josie’s face robbed me of anything more eloquent.

  She came closer and rested a hand on Ben’s neck. It was a casual, comfortable gesture. “Hey yourself.” She yawned. “Sorry. Had a late night last night. We close when the last person leaves or midnight, whichever comes soonest, and last night it was midnight.”

  “A ride should wake you up.”

  “That’s why I’m here. Am I riding Patch again?”

  I nodded. “You seemed to enjoy her last time. We have another person with us today, one of the campers, Dan. He’s a total beginner, but I’ll make sure you get some faster time.”

  “No worries. I didn’t expect I would always be the only one.” She paused. “Nice as it was.”

  Her riot of curls caught the sun slanting in through the gaps in the barn wall.

  “I’ll just finish up with these three. If you want a coffee to wake yourself up, go over to the camp kitchen. You’ll find some instant there and milk in the fridge.” Part of me hoped she’d stay and chat, but she nodded and disappeared in that direction.

  Left alone, I was able to finish the three horses. By the time she returned, I was helping Dan onto Smoke. He was obviously nervous but determined not to show it, and his fingers wound into Smoke’s mane, clutching harder as she shifted her weight. I adjusted Dan’s stirrups and showed him how to sit.

  Josie saw that I was busy and went over to Patch, checked the girth, and mounted. I had to leave Dan for a minute while I mounted Ben, and Josie moved over on Patch and chatted to Dan. The bartender at work. She obviously had the people skills to put them at ease. Dan’s shoulders relaxed, and he loosened his death grip enough to give Smoke a tentative pat.

  I led the way out of the yard and along the fence line to where the creek cut a winding course through the parched ground. It was dry, of course, and would remain that way until the summer rains came. I’d picked this way as beginners tended to feel more secure when there was something on one side, even something as insubstantial as two strands of barbed wire held up by rotting fence posts. But that line gave them some security, an artificial marker in an open landscape. And it was true. The horses plodded along like docile cattle, and if anything were to spook them—usually wildlife—then there was only one way for them to turn.

  I glanced back. Dan was tipped forwards in a precarious position over Smoke’s neck. Josie rode behind, reins in one hand, the other resting in, to what was to the casual eye, a loose position on her thigh. But I could see that she was ready to react if necessary, to lean forwards and grab Smoke’s reins.

  She didn’t have to take on the role of Tail-End Charlie, but I was glad she had.

  I halted Ben and waited for Smoke to catch up. “You’re doing well, Dan. Try sitting back in the saddle a little more. You’ll feel more comfortable if you do.”

  He nodded and obeyed, smiling as Smoke responded and relaxed. Josie came up on his other side, and we ambled along, three abreast. I pointed out a mob of kangaroos grazing on the meagre vegetation on the far side of the creek. Dan must have felt confident enough to look around, as he pointed out a fairy wren hopping through the tangled branches of a mulga tree.

  There was no chance for private conversation with
Josie, but, I told myself, that was fine. This was my life, my business. Ensuring the likes of Dan had a good time so that they wanted to come back, maybe instil some small appreciation for the outback and its people—well, that was my purpose here. It wasn’t to develop a friendship with an intriguing woman. It wasn’t to flirt, no matter how much I wanted to.

  Half an hour into our gentle ride, I pointed out a wider loop to Josie. “If you want to go at your own pace, keep that fence line on your right. Dan and I will cut across the middle, and you can catch up with us.”

  Josie grinned. “I’d like that.”

  She turned Patch and urged her away from us. Patch laid back her ears and jibbed, and it took Josie a minute or so to persuade her to leave. But once away, she pushed Patch into a floating canter, and I took a minute to admire how the coloured horse moved over the land. Josie urged her on, and her neck lengthened. Josie sat easily, relaxed in the saddle. I wished I was with her, racing along like that.

  I turned to Dan. “How d’you feel about a trot?”

  Dan nodded and gripped the front of the saddle.

  Josie caught up with us when we were nearly back at the barn. Her curls were more disordered than ever, and Patch was damp with sweat. Both of them had obviously enjoyed themselves.

  She ran a hand down Patch’s neck. “This lady moves like the wind.”

  “Especially when her head’s towards the barn.”

  Josie grinned. “There is that.” She jogged up alongside Dan and I. “Enjoying yourself, Dan?”

  Dan looked more relaxed. He sat more easily, and Smoke’s steadiness had given him confidence. “Yeah.”

  Back at the barn, though, he was noticeably stiff as he slid from Smoke’s back.

  “Here.” I took her reins. “Go for a walk. Loosen up a bit. You can settle up with me later.”

  “Thanks.” He patted Smoke’s neck. “I enjoyed that. A first for me. Hopefully not the last, although not for a few days.”