Daniel could see her look of dismay and walked over to her. He planted a kiss on her forehead.
“Breathe,” he whispered. “We’ll get through this. Now give me that, I’ve found a pot big enough to cook those in.” He took the bowl of eggs from her and placed it next to the Aga.
“I’m sorry,” Sam whimpered, hanging her head in shame. “I’m a complete idiot in the kitchen.” She felt so much like a fish out of water, it wasn’t funny.
“No worries.” He shot her a smile that instantly made her feel better.
“Here, let me stir that,” Sam offered. “I can at least manage to stir eggs, I think. You go and do whatever it is you were doing.”
Daniel handed her the wooden spoon, and she took to stirring the eggs until they were the consistency needed.
“There you go.” Daniel announced once they had put all the food into the serving dishes and placed them on warmers in the middle of the dining table. “Piece of cake.”
Sam goggled at him. The kitchen looked like a war zone. What’s more, it had to be cleaned up before she could start with lunch.
They were right on time, though. Just as they placed the last dish of food on the table, the shearers started filing in.
“Looks good.” said Bruce, the head shearer, as he took a plate and helped himself to some bacon.
Sam puffed out a sigh of relief as they all started tucking in. Daniel and Sam joined them at the table. Before long, the dishes and plates were empty. The shearers sure could eat a lot. It didn’t take them long to scarf down the entire contents of the serving dishes. After they had finished eating, they got up, thanked the reluctant cooks for breakfast and filed out of the room. Daniel got up to follow as he had to get the sheep in the pens for them.
“See you at lunchtime,” he whispered in Sam’s ear, planting a kiss on her cheek. “Remember to breathe.” He turned and left.
Sam sat for a few moments staring at the carnage and dropped her head on the table.
“Who knew you could be stuck in a nightmare that starts as soon as you wake up?” Sam whined to herself. She looked up at Lucrecia. “Wanna help me wash up?” Lucrecia squawked and bobbed her head in her usual fashion. “Hop on board, then,” Sam said extending her arm out for the bird to climb up.
Sam put hands to hips and sucked in a deep, calming breath. There were only six hours in which to clean up the mess and make another one, hopefully, producing lunch as the end result. Sam had already decided to do a stew for dinner. It was the easiest recipe she could find on the list that Sally had given them. According to her instructions, Sam could just throw it all in one pot and leave it. Famous last words.
Washing up was a breeze, compared to cooking, but with the sheer volume of dishes that had to be cleaned, it took Sam quite a while. When eventually it was all done she rolled up her sleeves, put her hands on hips, and looked around the now clean and shiny kitchen. She admired her handiwork, knowing that within minutes it was going to look like a war zone again.
“Right, then,” Sam stated to Lucrecia. “Let’s get started on lunch, shall we.” She wandered back into the dining room towards Lucrecia’s cage. “Sorry, Hun,” Sam said as she eased the bird onto her perch, “You can’t help me with this. I don’t think the lads would be too pleased to have their lunch garnished with bird poop.” Lucrecia bobbed her head in agreement, and, obliging, took to her perch.
Sam thought that she would make the lunches an informal buffet type affair, and basically, the shearers could like it or lump it. Most of the food for lunch would be already prepared. They had bought a lot of cold cuts of meat, and several cold salad type dishes. This would be a breeze, Sam thought as she wandered into the ‘general store’ to pick out tubs of goodies to set up on the buffet table.
By this time, she was starting to feel more confident. She walked back to the kitchen to make a start on the stew. They had bought the meat already chopped up. It cost a bit extra, but anything to save them time. If Mr. and Mrs. Miller had been there they would have butchered their own meat.
She decided, while chopping the vegetables, that she might even try and be a bit adventurous and make some dumplings. Her grandma was a wonderful cook and used to make great dumplings. Maybe, some of her grandma’s cooking prowess was buried deep inside her, and it just had to be dragged out, kicking and screaming.
It was getting towards lunchtime. The team would be heading this way in a little while, but Sam thought there was enough time to make the dumplings first, so she could pop them in the stew to cook.
She grabbed a bag of flour, a box of eggs, and headed over to the worktop to begin creating her masterpiece. Totally oblivious to the dishtowel that had fallen from where it should have been secured to her apron, Sam tripped and the eggs went flying.
“Buggar.” Sam cursed as she ran across the kitchen floor in a futile attempt to try and catch any of them. It was too late, some had already smashed onto the floor. As Sam ran through the slimy mess, her feet slipped out from underneath her, coming up level with her hips before her whole body plummeted to earth. In an attempt to break her fall, she threw the bag of flour away so she could use her hands, but it all happened too quickly… she landed on her back with a resounding ‘oomph’. All air knocked from her lungs.
Sam lay on her back in a pool of eggs. A second later, a thought occurred to her, and she wondered where the bag of flour had gone. She looked up. “Oh, that’s just great,” she groaned.
The half empty bag of flour was balancing precariously on the edge of the worktop. A few seconds passed before it gave up the fight and came tumbling down towards her.
“No, no, no!” Sam cried, covering her face with her hands just as the bag landed slap bang in the middle of her chest, exploding in a cloud of white powder.
Sam groaned, there really wasn’t much else she could do at that point. The day certainly couldn’t get any worse. After laying there for a few moments, she decided she couldn’t really stay on the floor all day. Sam was slowly easing herself over so that she could get on all fours and pull herself up when Daniel appeared at the door.
She looked up at him. She could only imagine the sight that greeted him. Daniel stared in disbelief for a few seconds, then Sam noticed his lips tighten. He was trying hard not to laugh. The corners of his mouth were having more trouble, though, and they started to curve upwards.
“Oh, er, hello,” Sam said as if everything was completely normal and she made a habit of slithering around on the flour covered in eggs and flour.
“What on earth happened?” Daniel asked as he cautiously stepped his way across the floor to come to her aid.
“The eggs and flour decided they didn’t want to be made into dumplings and waged war on me,” she replied in as nonchalant a manner as she could muster.
Daniel couldn’t help himself. The laugh escaped before he could keep it locked safely away.
“It’s not funny,” Sam stated, less than amused.
“Well, actually, Sam,” he paused. “It really rather is.” With that he fell about laughing.
Well, that’s just charming. Sam sighed. She looked at the man standing before her, tears of laughter rolling down his cheeks then looked down at herself on all fours. She had to admit, she was a sight for sore eyes.
Still laughing, Daniel leaned over and held out his hand. Sam glared up at him through her eyelashes, but grabbed it, anyway. She had no desire to stay on the floor any longer. It wasn’t easy to hold onto someone with egg all over your hands, but eventually Daniel managed to pull her up. Once on her feet, Sam saw the humor in her situation. She rolled her eyes and joined in with Daniel’s infectious laughter.
He dusted off her hair and took her powdery face in his hands.
“You really are a disaster, aren’t you?” he chuckled. “But, God help me Sam, I love you.”
Sam stopped laughing and stared at him.
“You do?”
“Sweetheart, I couldn’t imagine my life without you. It would be bo
ring never having to wonder what kind of trouble you are going to get into next.”
Sam doffed him on the arm.
“Thanks. I think.”
“You go and clean up. You can’t look like that when the shearers get here. They’ll run for the hills if they see their dinner all over you. I’ll clean up here.”
“You’re a gem,” she told him, planting a floury kiss to his cheek before quickly exiting the kitchen and having the chance to get into any more trouble. She walked down the hall with a huge grin on her face. Daniel loved her.
Sam headed straight for the shower. After a few moments under the hot spray, she began to feel human again. The shearer’s voices could be heard echoing down the hall when she got back to her room. They seemed like they were happy with lunch, so she released another sigh of relief.
She could do this, she told herself. She just needed to get a little more organized, that’s all. Showered and changed, Sam headed to the kitchen to join the team for lunch. They had nearly finished when she arrived, but they thanked her for lunch before taking their leave.
“No worries,” Sam told them. “Piece of cake.” Then she looked over at Daniel and winked. Daniel raised his eyes to the heavens.
Sam decided after lunch that she had to get out of the kitchen or she’d probably just boil her head along with the potatoes. After cleaning up the lunch things, she took one of the motorbikes and headed to the shearing shed. The stew was bubbling nicely, and there really wasn’t anything for her to do until the potatoes had to be put on. She estimated there were a couple of hours to spare, and she was curious to see how the whole shearing sheep thing went.
It was good to feel the warm breeze flowing through her hair as she made her way to the shed. Being in the kitchen had felt so stifling. Now her freedom had returned and she was feeling rejuvenated again.
There was a lot of hustle and bustle going on around the shearing shed as she pulled up. Daniel was in amongst the wooly mass that surrounded the front of the shed in pens ready to have their hair cut. Sam made her way around to the back entrance of the building, parked her bike, and wandered in.
One side of the building was a bit like a warehouse. It was cavernous inside with a tall ceiling. The area housed a wool press and several divided sections that were filling up with freshly shorn wool.
One of the men who was loading wool into the press saw her and stopped what he was doing.
“G’day, Sam,” he said. “Here to see how it all works?”
“Sure am,” Sam replied with enthusiasm. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,” she added.
“The name’s Jack,” Jack said holding out his hand. Sam shook it.
The atmosphere in the building was buzzing. Each member of the team knew exactly what their job was. The operation seemed to be running like a well-oiled machine.
“Well, over there,” he pointed to a platform that was about waist height above the floor, “those are the shearers. When they have finished with a sheep, the fleece gets collected by one of the graders, like Johnny is doing now. He then throws it out over the grading table.”
A row of six men were leaning over sheep, shearing them so quickly their hands were almost a blur. When they had finished, they pushed the sheep down a chute in front of them, and then went into the pen behind them to grab another. They did this one after the other, after the other. They then placed the shorn fleeces in bundles on the floor to the side of them.
Sam watched while the grader picked up a fleece, walked to the end of the platform and threw the fleece out like a fisherman throwing a net. The fleece stayed intact and lay neatly spread out over the table that was positioned next to the platform.
“Then,” Jack continued, “the other graders will pull off any stain from around the outside of the fleece and decide what the quality of the fleece is.”
The three men Jack referred to, deftly handled the fleece, pulling small portions of dirty wool from the edges, throwing those pieces to the ground.
“Once they have decided on the quality, it gets thrown into one of the wool bins over here to be packed into bales. That’s my job.”
He pointed to the divided sections that were filling up with wool. Sam had wondered how on earth a team of ten men were going to shear thousands of sheep in a week, but now she could understand it. These guys worked so fast it was mind-boggling.
“If you fancy having a bit of fun,” Jack said, “try taking a running jump into one of those bins.”
Sam raised an eyebrow at him.
“Go on,” he said. “Try it.”
Sam thought about his suggestion for a moment. She decided she’d try anything once, and had to admit the soft deep wool did look inviting.
Sam walked to the wall furthest from the fullest bin and ran towards it twisting as she jumped. She let out an excited squeal as she landed on her back in the soft wool. It felt wonderful, her whole body floating in baby softness. She had never experienced anything that soft before. She had no idea that raw wool felt like that. Sam lay in the bin making snow angels in the wool. Jack looked at her and laughed.
“Told you,” he chuckled before he got back to piling wool into the press.
Sam treated herself to a few more running jumps into the wool pile. She was feeling like a little kid in the first snows of winter, but it was a lot warmer and less likely to soak you through to your skin.
Sam stood and watched the flurry of action for a while longer, then realized what the time was and headed back to the house to finish off dinner.
Dinner went smoothly, much to Daniel’s and Sam’s amazement. Everyone was at least full by the time they had finished eating. There were no complaints either. The shearers wandered off to their cottage after first thanking Sam for dinner.
Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for her, yet. She had a good feeling about what the next day would bring. Daniel went off to shower and told her he would help dry the dishes when he came out. Sam picked up Lucrecia and set about washing the mountain of plates.
“Want to take a ride with me?” Daniel asked as they finished drying the crockery and setting up the dining table for the next morning.
“Where are we going?”
“I left something at the shearing shed.”
“Sure, I’ll come with you.”
It was still fairly light outside. The sun had not quite set, but there was an enormous moon rising. It was so big it felt like you could just reach out and touch it.
They wandered out to where the bikes were kept and Sam got on behind Daniel. It reminded her of when they were in Bali. It was a balmy evening for this time of year, a gentle warm breeze blew softly around them.
“Hold on.” Daniel said as he kicked the bike into gear.
Sam wrapped her arms around his waist, buried her head between his shoulder blades, and breathed in his familiar spicy scent. It felt good to be this close to him. She wondered how she would ever manage to part herself from him in the not-to-distant future.
It took them a few minutes to arrive at the shearing shed. Daniel took her hand as she climbed off the bike and led her through the back entrance of the shed. The back wall of the building was actually a big sliding door. It had been moved over to open up the whole wall. Sam walked in beside him.
“So what did you leave in here?” Sam asked.
Daniel shot her a sheepish look. “I have a confession to make.”
“Oh, and what might that be?”
“This,” he said as he took a running jump into one of the wool bins.
Sam laughed as she watched a grown man making snow angels in the wool just as she had done earlier that the day. He lay there like a naughty school kid who was playing truant.
“I couldn’t help myself,” he chuckled. “I used to spend my days as a kid doing this during shearing, but this time I’m the boss and can hardly get away with doing it in front of the guys.”
Daniel’s expression changed, and he gestured with open arms for Sam to join him. Warmt
h flowed through her at the fun he was having. She took a run and jumped in right next to him, letting out an excited squeal as she landed.
They lay, side by side, letting the soft wool envelop them. Daniel turned on his side and propped his head on his hand; they looked at each other for the longest time. It was as if they needed to say things to one another but couldn’t quite find the words.
The moon was now rising in front of the opening in the shearing shed, and they had ringside seats. Sam sat up, better able to take in its awesome beauty, never before having seen a moon that big.
Daniel scooted himself behind her, sitting so that she was able to lean back against his chest his legs lying against the outsides of hers. He wrapped his arms around her waist and let his hands relax loosely on her stomach. The crickets had started to sing outside.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he whispered in her ear before nibbling a very sensitive spot on her neck. Sam let out a moan of appreciation as tiny shocks of electricity shot down her spine.
“Yes, very beautiful.” she breathed.
As they watched the moonrise, Sam could feel Daniel’s hot breath beside her ear as he nuzzled his head next to hers. Suddenly, he got up and stood in front of her holding out his hand.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he pulled her up. He had that mischievous twinkle in his eye again. He picked her up and threw her back into the soft wool again. She let out a squeal before hitting the wool.
They felt like they were a couple of six year olds without a care in the world. Daniel backed up several feet, then started running towards Sam. He dived into the wool pile beside her, then rolled over laughing.
Daniel propped his head on his hand again and watched Sam laugh. He fell silent, serious. Sam sensed his change in demeanor and turned to look at him.
She creased her eyebrows. “What is it?”
He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“For what?”
Daniel looked up and gestured around the shearing shed with his free arm. “For this. For all of it. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you. Thank you for not leaving me to face this alone.”
Summer Down Under Page 22
