Red Dirt Heart

by N. R. Walker

  “Over this ridge up here,” I said, pointing up ahead of us, “we’ll see the start of the herd. There’s a bit of gorge that runs through here. It’s actually Arthur River. Only runs when it rains. The cattle’ll migrate toward it from farther north when it gets too dry up there. Last month we closed the top paddocks to bring ’em down. Makes it easier for us, so we don’t have to bring ’em in from the tops. We’ll still have to do a run for any stragglers, but by the end of the dry season they’ll come down for water.”

  “And it’s the end of the dry season now?”

  “Yeah, comin’ into what the locals call the build-up,” I said. “When it gets humid as hell before the rains break.”

  “And that’s why it’s so hot?”

  I laughed. “This isn’t hot. It’s only mid-thirties. But it’s gonna get hot these next few weeks.” Then I said, “Hey, I thought our temperatures were pretty similar.”

  “They are, though it gets hotter here. I looked up what I could expect before I got here.” Then he added, “Not like that poor English guy ya’ll talked about last night.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, apparently it wasn’t pretty.”

  “You weren’t here then?” he asked. I think he was trying to act casual.

  I almost didn’t answer him; after all, I was used to being private and I barely knew this man. But in the end, I said, “I was in Sydney.” I wasn’t going to elaborate on that, but thought I’d already said that much, I figured why bloody not. “I was at uni. It was a bachelor of agricultural science at the University of Sydney.” To my right, I spotted one of the water troughs and hooked the chopper around so we could land. I figured it would be a good distraction and seeing how he handled himself around cattle seemed like a good idea.

  I landed the chopper a safe distance from the small corrugated iron shed that housed the bore that fed the water trough, and we walked toward it. I explained the gravity-fed bore and as we walked between cattle, he never hesitated. He was completely comfortable and he knew what he was doing. I was relieved, and surprised.

  And happy.

  I don’t know why it made me happy. I guess I didn’t want to see him fail out here, especially in front of the other guys, and seeing he could handle his own made me smile.

  We checked the bore, and when we climbed back into the chopper, I said, “There’s another one I want to check.”

  He slipped off the hat I’d given him and put the headset on again. When we were up in the air again, he looked around. “How far does your property go?”

  “See the horizon?”

  Travis looked out the windscreen of the helicopter. “Yeah.”

  “About three hundred kilometres past that.”

  Travis shook his head and let out a disbelieving laugh. “I knew it was big…but jeez. You know, 2.58 million acres looks big on paper and you know it’s big, but to see it? It’s huge!”

  “We’re not the biggest out here,” I told him.

  “Third biggest in the state,” he said.

  “Territory,” I corrected him with a smile. “We’re not a state.”

  “Sorry, Northern Territory,” he amended. “Eighth biggest station in the country.”

  “You did your research.”

  “I did a bit before coming out here, yeah. My momma needed to know where I was going,” he said.

  “Sutton Station is ten thousand, four hundred and sixty square kilometres. We have a stock rate of eight-to-ten.”

  His eyes widened. “That’s twenty-five hundred head of cattle!”

  “And we bring ’em in twice a year,” I told him a smile, impressed that he worked out the figures in his head so quickly. I’d have needed a calculator. Then something caught my eye. “Look down there,” I said, pointing to my right. I leaned the controls to follow my line of sight and so Travis could get a better look at the mob of kangaroos in full flight over the red dirt.

  He leaned forward a bit, and when he looked back at me, his grin was almost from ear to ear. “Holy shit, they’re fast,” he said. “That’s awesome!”

  “I should tell the boys. But we’re a bit far out,” I said. Travis looked at me, waiting for me to explain. “They shoot them.”

  “You shoot kangaroos?”

  “Yep. Bloody pests,” I said. He looked kind of stunned. “What? Don’t they tell you that in the tourism brochures?”

  He shook his head. “Ah, no.”

  “We’ll use the meat for dog food. Sometimes the boys’ll eat it if they’re out droving for a time, but it’s gotta be cooked right or you’d be better off eatin’ an old boot.”

  “Hmm,” he said, and his lips formed a flat, watery line. “I think I’ll stick to beef and lamb, thanks.”

  I laughed. “After a few days drovin’ you’ll be so tired and hungry you won’t care about what you’re eatin’.”

  “I’ll have to take your word on that,” he said.

  “You’ll find out next week. We’ll be out here on horseback,” I said as I put the chopper down near the next bore. “Hope you’re good for a week in the saddle.”

  He smiled and nodded as he got out of the helicopter. “I’m sure I am.”

  As we walked up to the tin shed that housed the pump to the bore, I stopped him. “Grab a shovel.”

  “What for?” he asked. “What the hell are we digging out here?”

  “The shovel’s not for digging. It’s a snake repellent.”

  Travis’s expression was a mix of oh shit and what the fuck. “Repellent?”

  “Yep. If you see one, cut its head off.”

  He paled a little. “You know, I read up on all the deadly animals you got out here. Brown snakes, taipans, tiger snakes, not to mention the spiders.” He swallowed hard. “I’m guessing you don’t have antivenin handy and we’re—” He looked at his watch. “—ooooh, a mere three hours and hello-complete-respiratory-failure from the hospital…”

  I smiled at him and held out the shovel. “So when you hit one, don’t miss.” I chuckled. “Anyway, it’s more of a blood coagulation issue before the respiratory problem.”

  He snatched the shovel. “You’re not funny, asshole.”

  Well, the fact that the venom makes your blood turn to soup wasn’t funny, but the look on his face was funny as hell. I even ignored the name calling. “Come on,” I told him. “I’ll go first.”

  We checked the bore, which was thankfully snake-free, and then he checked out one or two of the Brahman that were standing close by the water trough. After that we headed back to the homestead. I pointed out landmarks we’d see along the way when droving and told him likely camping stops, depending on how the herd were travelling.

  The plan would be I’d take the helicopter, and Bacon, Fish, Ernie, Trudy and Billy would head out north Monday morning on horseback on motorbikes. George would take the Land Rover out Tuesday and again on Wednesday with fresh supplies, then I’d go back with George on Wednesday afternoon to fly the helicopter up as far north as needed to bring down the last of the cattle to meet up with the rest of the herd.

  The crew on horseback and bike would start to bring them down, I’d come back with fresh supplies and resume on horseback until we were back at the holding yards.

  Then I’d take the helicopter back out for one last round up, with a few guys on horseback and dirt bike to bring in any cattle that went astray.

  Overall from start to finish, it’d take a week.

  “You’ll be with the droving team,” I told him. “Heading out with us first thing Monday after next.”

  Travis grinned. “Cool!”

  “We’ll need to see how you go on horseback or bike first,” I said. “It’s nothing personal. I just need to see how you handle both, ’cause when you’re out there in the middle of nowhere, there’s not much room for error.”

  “It’s fine,” he said with a smug smile. “I understand that. And anyway, I can handle both okay.”

  We landed back at the station, and after we unloaded the few emergency su
pplies we took with us and completed the safety checks and flight log, I suggested Travis take one of the dirtbikes for a spin.

  He wheeled the bike out to where me and George were waiting and swung his leg over the bike. My mind fell to the gutter with how his jeans hugged his ass and thighs and the way he straddled the bike. I pretended to find a loose thread on my shirt interesting until he kick-started the bike, turned the wheel and sprayed red dust all over me and George.

  George sputtered and brushed himself down. “What the hell was that for?” he coughed.

  I spat the dust out of my mouth. “I may have questioned his ability to ride.”

  George snorted and clapped my shoulder. “Well, consider yourself answered.”

  “Hmm,” I grumbled. “Smug fucking Yank.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Smug fucking Yank. Yep. I said it.

  George burst out laughing. “Right, smug. Is that what they’re calling it these days?” he said with a laugh. I eyed him questioningly, and he smiled. “That smug fucking Yank has held your attention all day.”

  I raised one eyebrow at him. “I showed him an aerial view of where he’ll be droving next week.”

  “He’s coming on the drovin’ run?” George asked.

  “Yep. I took him out to the second bore and he stuck his hands straight in and was liftin’ pipes. Didn’t think twice. He knew what he was doing. And with the Brahman, he just walked right up to ’em and knew where to touch ’em, where to stand. He’s a farmer, George. I ain’t got no problem with him coming.”

  George gave a hard nod. “I’ll make plans. We’ll need to prep another bike or horse, gear, food… I better let Ma know there’ll be another mouth to feed.”

  “I’ll let Ma know,” I said. “I have some calls to make inside, but after lunch I’ll leave Travis with you. He can get his own gear ready for Monday, just like everyone else.”

  “Fair enough.”

  We stood and watched as Travis rode slowly back to us. We could see his smile from where we were. “And get him to bring in the Bay gelding. We’ll see if he’s as smug on a horse as he is on a bike.”

  After lunch and some business phone calls later, I could hear George laughing outside. I followed the sound to the back door of the homestead, and obviously hearing the same laughter as I did, Ma came in and stood beside me.

  Travis was saddling up the horse, but must have said something funny to George. They were both smiling. Travis obviously knew his way around a horse, he was buckling up the girth and lengthening stirrups while he was talking to and looking at George.

  “He’s a nice boy,” Ma said. “Cute too, don’t ya think?”

  “Ma, please,” I cautioned. “We’ve been through this.”

  “Don’t write him off yet,” she said. “Do you know which team he bats for?”

  “Ma,” I hissed. “It’s not like that. It’s professional.”

  “And talking on the front porch all night,” she said casually. “What was that you just being professional?”

  I sighed.

  “That’s what I thought,” she said.

  I amended my earlier comment. “Ma, it can’t be like that.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s a guest here. I’m responsible for him. You know there are rules about business and pleasure.”

  “Maybe it’s your responsibility to provide both…”

  I pushed out through the screen door before she even finished that sentence, and bounded down toward the holding yard where George stood watching Travis.

  Jesus. He’d only been here a day.

  I mean, it hadn’t been that long since I’d been with someone… I tried to remember the last time I’d had sex…okay, so going on a year and a half was probably too long.

  Fucking hell.

  I walked down to where George stood, kinda pissed at myself. I leaned against the holding yard railing and put one booted foot on the bottom rail.

  “You okay?” George asked quietly.

  He could always read me. “Yeah.” I looked over at him and gave him a smile and a pat on the shoulder. “I’m good.” But then Travis, who’d been standing, talking quietly to the horse, gripped the horn of the saddle, put his left foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself up into the seat.

  The horse turned in a circle and Travis’s arms flexed, the muscles in his forearms bulging as he kept the reins tight. His jeans hugged his thighs and ass as he lifted his hips in the saddle.

  I bit back a groan and put my head down, resting my forehead on the railing.

  “You got him,” George called out to him, meaning he had full control of the horse.

  Travis laughed, making me look up at him. He was grinning as he walked the gelding around the yard. If there were any horses that might have given him grief it was this gelding, yet he had the horse under full command.

  George opened the gate and Travis led the gelding out, starting out in an easy trot as he headed down the driveway. He had a fluid motion, rising in the saddle, using his legs—almost standing in the stirrups—leaning over the neck of the animal, as he urged the horse to break into a gallop.

  “Don’t think you need to worry if the boy can ride,” George said, laughing beside me. “Smug Yank, huh?”

  I smiled and let out a heavy sigh. “Tell him not to bother getting off. I’ll go saddle up. He’ll have the gelding all riled up, riding him like that. We may as well head out on horseback.”

  George gave a nod, but it looked like he was trying not to smile. I considered telling him to mind his own, but turned and walked away instead.

  I grabbed my saddle from the shed, walked over to the housing paddock and slung the saddle over the fence. I stuck two fingers in my mouth and gave a loud whistle before walking back into the shed.

  I heard Travis ride back in, and George telling him to stay on the horse.

  “Told ya’ll I could ride,” Travis said, his accent thick. Then after a second, he said, “What did Charlie whistle for?”

  “Callin’ his horse,” George replied.

  “Callin’ his what?” Travis asked.

  I smiled to myself as I grabbed the bridle and headed back out toward my saddle, and sure enough, just like always, Shelby came galloping in. She was a buckskin, kind of small for a stockhorse, but the best I’d ever seen. She lifted her head and snorted a few times, stomping the ground with her front leg.

  I climbed through the fence and ran my hand along her neck and down her shoulder. I let her smell me and nudge me, like she always did. “Hey, girl,” I said softly. “Been a few days, huh?”

  She nudged me again with her forehead, so I rubbed her ears and let her rest her head on my shoulder. Ignoring the eyes I could feel on me, I slipped on the bridle, then threw over the rug and saddle. I quickly strapped it up, put my left foot in the stirrup and threw my right leg over, and settled into the saddle. When I pulled the reins, we turned to find Travis and George watching me. Travis was keeping the unsettled gelding in line, pulling on the reins, but he never took his eyes off me.

  George was grinning from ear to ear. He shook his head, so I threw him the water canister, which he caught easily. He filled it with water from the tap at the trough and tossed it back to me, then opened the gate for Travis.

  George, the man who’d been like a father to me, looked up at me, not even trying to hide his smile. “Don’t be too late now.”

  Before I could chip him, Travis rode the gelding in and Shelby threw her head back, making me pull hard and turn her around. When I looked back at George, the gate was shut and he was walking away.

  “She alright?” Travis asked, nodding toward Shelby.

  “She’s fine,” I told him. I gave her a nudge with my toes. “Yah,” I called, and Shelby took flight.

  I looked back to find Travis not too far behind me. Yeah, he could ride well, but I was better. Especially with Shelby. She was a beautiful mare, smart as hell. I loved being out here with her. I trusted her judgment and there weren’t t
oo many people or animals on the planet that I could say that about.

  I rode her flat out for a few hundred metres and slowly started to pull her up, letting her run herself out. Travis was alongside me in no time and we slowed to a walk.

  He was still grinning, but he settled into the saddle. “It’s really beautiful here,” he said. “I was expecting it to be a lot like the deserts of Utah or Arizona, but it’s really not. It looks more…” He trailed off, like he couldn’t find the right word.

  “Australian?” I finished for him.

  He laughed. “Exactly. But it sure is pretty.”

  I snorted at him. “You wanna be careful or this red dirt will get into your blood.” Then I pointed over toward the western fence line. “We’ll follow that,” I told him. We led the horses over to the trees near the far western fence and followed the line for a while. I explained how this would be one of the holding yards when the cattle came down. We dismounted in the shade of some trees and Travis threw the loose reins over the fence. I let Shelby’s reins hang loose.

  “Not much shade out here,” Travis noted.

  I laughed. “Not much grows tall enough to produce it.”

  He crouched down and scooped up a handful of the dirt at his feet. “It’s the reddest soil I’ve seen.”

  “It’s like sand,” I told him. “Poor filtration, no nutrition.”

  “Some of the toughest farming conditions on the planet,” he said, looking up at me.

  I ran my hand down Shelby’s neck. “Does that make me crazy?”

  Travis laughed and stood up, letting the red sand fall through his fingers. “It’s incredible.”

  I looked at him now like he was crazy.

  “It is!” he cried. “Absolutely incredible,” he said again, quieter this time, almost in wonder. He went on to talk about the soil types and geological bases of his parents’ farm back in Texas. I’d forgotten that he was a student, or rather, had been a student. He’d technically finished studying—but still, I was reminded by the way he described the alkaline clays and sandy loams of his hometown that not only was he here to learn, but he also loved what he did.