Red Dirt Heart

by N. R. Walker

  I shrugged and grabbed some clean clothes from my dresser. “It’s done now. I have to face them this morning,” I told him quietly. “Knowing that they know.” I walked to the door. “Anyway, I guess it doesn’t matter.”

  “What doesn’t matter?”

  I wasn’t going to mention it, but figured it really didn’t matter anymore. “You’re leaving.”

  “Charlie.”

  “I’ve got a busy day,” I said, louder this time. “I need to separate this mob of cattle. I’ve got three road trains turning up tomorrow, and I can’t afford to not be ready.”

  I turned and left him at that, had a shower and a shave and with a sense of dread, walked out for breakfast. Everyone at the table was kind of quiet, apparently not real sure what to say, myself included. Apparently Ma had told them that Travis was okay but wouldn’t be any help in the yard.

  There were a few looks around the table, but no one else mentioned him or the marks they’d seen on my chest and shoulders yesterday. I was grateful. After a full breakfast, I gave orders and directions for the day. We needed to draft the herd into their separate yards: steers, heifers, weaners, killings and keepers.

  We’d all done it before. We all had roles and responsibilities, and when breakfast was done, everyone went straight to work. The house was quiet, and I breathed a sigh of relief that nothing had been said about me and Travis.

  Ma met me in the hall. “Charlie, hun, you okay?” she asked.

  “Sure, Ma,” I said. “I’m fine.”

  I was expecting her to call me out on lying, but she didn’t. “Okay,” she said softly. “If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

  I gave her a smile. A very genuine smile. “Sure thing.” I turned and walked to front door, but something stopped me.

  Travis’s hat.

  It was on the hallstand, sitting from when it was thrown there yesterday. Like it could have bitten me, I slowly picked it up and brushed it off, and sat it back down on the hallstand, all neat like.

  I looked back at Ma, who’d been watching me the whole time. I snatched my hat off the hook, put it on and walked out the door.

  * * * *

  We worked all day in the holding yards, separating cattle, penning and tagging. It was stinking hot, over forty degrees, we were sweaty, the horses were sweaty, and by dinner time we were beat.

  Too busy all day for conversation and then too hungry to talk at dinner, I’d almost forgotten that they’d all seen the marks Travis had left on me. No one brought it up, so they either didn’t care or didn’t realise what they were or who put them on me. Either way, I was grateful.

  When I’d slumped into my office chair at the end of the day, Ma called out to me. “Charlie? Can you come here?”

  I got up and found her in my room, helping Travis out of bed. Ma had a crutch in her hand. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I’m going stir-crazy in this room,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. Both feet were down, but he favoured his bandaged leg. “And I need to pee.”

  “He doesn’t want me to take him,” Ma said.

  “I’ve had to pee in a bottle all day. Let me have some dignity,” he said, looking up to her with a smile.

  “I found your old crutch in the shed, from when you broke your leg,” Ma said. “But only one of them. Don’t know what happened to the other one.”

  “I tried using it as a diving board when the creek was in flood when I was fourteen, remember?” I told her.

  “Hmm,” she hummed. “Yeah, and they had to fish you out half a mile down. I remember that part alright.”

  Travis chuckled, but then he tried to stand up. Ma grabbed him, but I grabbed him too. “You’ll be dizzy a while,” I told him. “Let your head get used to bein’ upright.”

  He fisted the shirt at my shoulder, and Ma stuck the crutch under his right arm. He took a few deep breaths and said, “I’m right.”

  I didn’t let go of him though. I kept my hand around his back as we shuffled down the hall, and by the time we got to the bathroom, Ma was gone. After he’d peed enough to make the Todd River flow, he leant against the basin. He washed his hands, his face, then brushed his teeth.

  I stood and watched him. “Feel better?”

  “So much better,” he said. He shuffled around on his good foot and reached over and leaned into me. “Didn’t just think I was using the excuse to take a piss to get you alone, did you?”

  “Not after seeing how long you peed for, no.”

  He laughed quietly, and then he looked right into my eyes and whispered, “I’ve wanted to feel your arms around me for two days.”

  And I couldn’t have not done it even if I tried. Just one last time, I told myself. Just one last time. This was it, forever. The rest of my life, alone in the middle of nowhere, with only memories to comfort me.

  I slowly slid my arms around his waist, careful not to bump his leg. I needed to commit this to memory: the feel of him against me, his arms around me, his hands touching me, his smell.

  And when he pulled back a little so he could kiss me, I let him.

  Savour it, Charlie, I told myself. Because this is it.

  Every detail, the softness of his lips, the stubble on his chin, the taste of tongue.

  I put my hand to face and cupped his jaw, slowly ending the kiss. I kept my forehead against his and my eyes closed, savouring the hammering of my heart and not wanting it to end. When I finally opened my eyes, he was smiling.

  “Can I watch TV?” he asked.

  The question threw me completely. There I was, having a moment I would remember forever, and he was thinking of some crap on television.

  “Um, sure,” I said. I grabbed the crutch for him and put it under his right arm. I helped him out the lounge room, lowered him into a chair and handed him the remote. “Can I get you a drink or something?”

  He shook his head. “Wanna watch something with me?”

  “No,” I said quietly. “Gonna turn in. It’s been a big day. I’m beat.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Sorry. It’s just that I’ve been sleeping most of the day. And I’m wide awake now.”

  “Well, let me know if you need anything.” I turned to walk out.

  “Charlie, did anyone say anything to you today?” he asked, stopping me before I could leave. “You know, about the”—he waved his hands across his chest—“love bites?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  He smiled. “Well, good. I guess.”

  I turned to the foyer. “I’ll take the spare room again,” I said quietly. “Give a yell if you need me. If not, I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I showered, and when I crawled into bed, I could hear the TV. Sleep didn’t come easily. I lay there, half hoping, half dreading that he’d show up in the doorway. But he never did.

  I don’t know what bothered me the most: the fact he didn’t seem to care that he was leaving or the fact that I did.

  * * * *

  The next morning, I didn’t see Travis. I presumed he slept late or Ma served him breakfast in bed. Either way, considering what we had going on in the yard, I was glad he wasn’t distracting me.

  The three road trains—a B-Double truck, each pulling three double-decker trailers—came in midmorning. We had to load each truck with separate yards of cattle, and with over eight hundred head of cattle to haul, it was a huge job.

  It was hot, dusty and hectic.

  I didn’t even notice Travis standing on the veranda. I had no clue how long he’d been there for, but I guess with the noise and the excitement, he didn’t want to miss it. It was quite a sight to see, I guess.

  He watched us well into the afternoon, standing there leaning on the crutch. I watched him as he stared at the stairs off the veranda, and like I could read his mind, I knew what he gonna do. He balked at the top step, tried putting the crutch on the first step, but then backed up. In the end, after deciding the stairs were too hard to navigate, he kept his leg out in front of hi
m, lowered his ass to the decking boards and swung his legs over the edge. He simply picked up the crutch and started to walk up to the yard.

  George was watching me watch him. I shook my head. “Bloody stubborn,” I mumbled.

  George turned back to the holding yard, but I could the smile from the corner of his face.

  Travis just stood at the fence, leaning against the railing, like he couldn’t help himself, like he just had to be a part of it.

  And at the end of the day, he simply walked back to the veranda, threw the crutch up first, lifted himself up onto the decking and swung his legs up.

  It was one thing that both amazed me and drove me crazy: once he’d made his mind up, there was no telling him otherwise.

  That night, when everyone else had gone to bed, we were in the lounge room and Travis told me he’d spoken to his parents. He’d told them all about his overnight adventure lost in the Outback, about his injured knee, and how we’d rounded the cattle into the corrals and loaded them onto big-ass trucks.

  “We don’t call them corrals,” I reminded him.

  “Corrals, holding yards, whatever,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  “Bet they were glad you’re heading home,” I said, keeping my tone light.

  “Can we talk about that?” he asked. “About me leaving?”

  “Not sure what there is to say,” I said quietly. My chest was tight and my mouth was dry. “I mean, we always knew you weren’t gonna be here for long. I just forgot, I guess…”

  “You looked a bit shocked the other night when Ma said I was leaving in three days.”

  “Well, now it’s one day,” I said.

  Travis grinned at me. He fucking grinned. I felt sick, and he was all happy smiles.

  I stood up. “Jesus, Travis. Maybe you could act like you give a shit. I mean, you’re leaving here tomorrow and you don’t even care.” I ran my hand through my hair like I always did when I was stuck for words. “I dunno, you said it was just some holiday fun. I don’t know what I was thinking…” I walked to the door.

  “Charlie,” he called out, and I stopped.

  “I don’t care that I’m supposed be leaving tomorrow,” he said. “Because I’m not.”

  I stared at him, turning his words over in my head. “What?”

  He shrugged, like it was oh so simple. “I’m not getting on that plane tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Where some truths are said and are awfully hard to hear.

  I’d just rolled my eyes and shook my head at him, completely disregarding what he’d said. “It’s a nice thought,” I’d told him, then stood there for a while not really knowin’ what else I could say, and went to bed.

  As always, after mustering was done, everyone had a few days off. Everyone was still there for breakfast though, even Travis. He was used to the crutch now and was getting around rather easily with it, but still not putting his foot on the floor.

  Everyone was talking about what they were doing with their days off and who was heading into the Alice and when, and after they’d all gone and there was just me, George and Travis left at the table, George threw his serviette on his plate. “Well, Travis, your flight leaves at four. We’ll need to be left here by eleven.”

  “I’m not going,” he said.

  George looked at me, then back to Travis. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I’m not going,” he repeated. “I told Charlie last night, but he thinks I’m joking.” He turned in his seat and grabbed the crutch, slowly standing up. “Well, I’m not joking. I ain’t going.”

  “Travis,” I started. “You can’t just stay.”

  “Says who?”

  “Um, the Australian government,” I said.

  “So I’ll fill in some more forms. Big deal.” He slowly walked around the table, and George and I just watched him. “I told you, I’m staying.”

  I looked at George, and he blinked a few times before standing up and clapping me on the shoulder. “I’ll leave this one up to you.”

  After a minute of blinking at the wall, I got up and followed Travis into my room. He was lying on my bed, his knee propped up on a pillow. “Travis, you can’t just decide you’re not going back.”

  “Well, I have.”

  “Why are you being so damn stubborn?”

  “Because I have to be,” he shot back at me. “Because you won’t ask me to stay.”

  I heard the front door shut and realised our conversation could be heard. I shook my head and then answered calmly and quietly, “I’m not discussing this.”

  “Of course you’re not,” he said, rolling his eyes. Then he snapped. “And you think I’m stubborn?”

  I clenched my jaw shut and looked out the window instead.

  “Ma?” he called out. “Can you come here for a sec?”

  I looked to the empty door, knowing Ma would be in it any second. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m not getting on that plane.”

  “What do you mean you’re not?” I asked. “Your ticket—”

  “I don’t care about the ticket.”

  “You have to go back.”

  He stared at me. “Is that what you want?”

  “Travis, I…”

  Ma stood in the doorway, looking between us. “Can you help me to the kitchen, please?” he asked, getting himself up. “I think I’ve overdone it. I did too much too soon,” he said. “It’s kinda hurting.” He shuffled on his left foot and shoved the crutch under his right arm. I wanted to go to him, to help him, but my feet were rooted to the floor.

  Ma was quick to prop herself under his left arm, helping him walk. “Sure, hon,” she said. “But if your knee is sore, then maybe you should lie down.”

  “Not yet.” He smiled at me as they walk past me to the door. “We are gonna discuss this. And apparently in this house, the kitchen is the place where things get said. And I got some things that need saying.”

  I stood in my room, blinking at where he’d just been. I had a fair idea what he was going to say. And I wanted him to say it. I wanted it so bad.

  But I just… couldn’t.

  “Charlie!” Travis called out, presumably from the kitchen. “Can I speak to you please?”

  I shook my head to myself. I half wanted to smile and half wanted to run.

  I walked to the kitchen just as Ma was walking out. “Hear him out,” she said. She looked sadder than I remember ever seeing her, but she patted my arm.

  Travis was leaning against the table, the crutch under his arm, keeping his bandaged right leg bent off the floor. “This kitchen is neutral ground for conversation, yes?” he asked. He didn’t wait for me to answer. “Because we’re gonna talk.”

  “Travis…”

  “God it’s hot in here,” he said, puffing his cheeks out when he breathed hard.

  “We don’t have to—” I started to say, but he cut me off.

  “You know what? You can shut up and listen. After I’m done you can tell me if you don’t want me to stay, but you can hear me out first.”

  I blinked at him. I don’t think anyone had spoken to me like that.

  “You’re so hell-bent on being out here by yourself. You won’t give anyone a chance. You think it’s a special kind of hell on earth, but you love it anyway. And you know what? I get that. Because it’s beautiful. But it doesn’t have to be a life sentence, Charlie. You’re so damn certain you’ll be alone forever—you’re sure of it—and it scares the hell outta you to think someone might wanna stay.”

  “I never said—”

  “I said shut up and listen, I ain’t done.”

  I think I heard a muffled laugh from outside, but I couldn’t be sure.

  “I want to stay. I want to be here. I want to work this farm with you. Lord fucking knows why, because you’ve done nothing but push me away, you’ve fought me over every possibility of there being an us, and why does it have to be so fucking hot!?” He threw up his hands and wiped the sweat from his brow. “It’s a
hundred and twenty damn degrees in this kitchen at seven in the morning!”

  I opened my mouth to speak but he pointed his finger at me and my mouth snapped shut. Apparently he wasn’t done talking.

  “I don’t know why, but something in my soul told me to come here.” He shook his head. “I had a list of places to pick from, but I had to come here. I just had to. Something in the back of my head, in my gut, told me to come here. Sutton Station. The name stuck out at me, and right or wrong, I was coming here. And now I know why.” He swallowed hard. “I knew after the first day. This godforsaken, red and unforgiving, hotter than fucking hell place was where I was supposed to be. With you.”

  I shook my head.

  “Don’t you dare say no,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m standing here, telling you that I’m in this, and I know you want it. I know you want me to stay.” He looked about ready to cry. “Fucking hell, Charlie,” he whispered. “Don’t tell me to go.”

  My heart was in my throat, squeezed tight. “Why? Why would you want this?”

  The colour seemed to drain from his face. “I just told you why,” he said quietly.

  “I just don’t understand why anyone would want this.”

  “Why? Because your mother didn’t?” he asked. The question shocked me. “And you want to settle for a life of loneliness because that’s what your father did? Is that what it is? Do you think you’re not allowed to be happy, because he wasn’t? Or because he told you you weren’t allowed to be?” Travis was angry. He was standing on his good leg, balancing with the crutch, and he pointed his finger at me, the veins in his neck were strained and his blue eyes were fierce. “He told you no gay man could run this place and you fucking believe him.”

  I shook my head, but no words would come. I shook my head. “Travis…”

  “Goddammit, Charlie,” Travis said. “Don’t just stand there like you don’t know what to say.”

  “You wanna know?” I snapped. “You wanna know? This sand, this red fucking dirt, that’s all there is. It’ll burn ya feet, break your back and bleed you dry. And you know what? I fucking love it. It’s part of me. It’s who I am. It’s what I am. And when my father dragged me, kicked me from here to Sydney to ‘make a man outta me’ I swore I would never come back. And now? Well, now I could never leave. This is all there is for me, and you know what? I’ve made my peace with that.”