Lang Downs

by Ariel Tachna

“It’s Christmas,” Thorne protested.

  “Yes, I know,” Ian said. “That’s why we don’t want to miss breakfast. Kami and Sarah do a full English breakfast on Christmas morning, along with all the pastries and sweet buns you can imagine. And then this afternoon we’ll have dinner early. Last year Sarah even made mulled wine and cider.”

  “You’d think it was cold outside,” Thorne said, “and here it is going to be in the forties again today. Shorts and T-shirts and mulled wine or cider to drink. Something’s wrong with this picture.”

  “Like any Christmas you’ve ever celebrated has been any different,” Ian scoffed. “It’s miserably hot outside, but we cling to our British roots like they’re all we have left.”

  Thorne couldn’t argue with that. He hadn’t had much opportunity to celebrate Christmas in the Commandos, but he remembered growing up and always having a traditional Christmas dinner with his family before going out to the beach to swim or surf.

  “Okay, you’ve convinced me,” Thorne said. “Let’s get the celebration started.”

  They dressed quickly and headed for the canteen. Thorne hadn’t asked when they usually exchanged presents on the station, but Ian hadn’t mentioned it this morning, so he figured his gift could wait where it was hidden until later. He hated that he hadn’t had the time or opportunity to find the perfect gift for Ian, but at least he’d selected something Ian would appreciate and use. Ian had muttered more than once recently about how ragged his hat was getting, and how the droop of the brim blocked his vision more than it blocked the sun. He’d checked the size one night while Ian was cleaning up before dinner and had offered to take the next supply run to Boorowa so he could buy a replacement. It wasn’t the perfect gift, but he hoped Ian would like it.

  As promised, breakfast was twice as plentiful as usual, with far more choices. Thorne wasn’t even sure where to start, but Ian didn’t have a problem, making a beeline for the table with the pastries on it. Thorne had figured out Ian had a sweet tooth, but today he was like a little kid on Christmas morning, an appropriate metaphor for the day.

  The canteen, usually so quiet in the morning, was filled with cheerful if sleepy calls of “Happy Christmas”—and Caine’s very American “Merry Christmas” in reply. They all lingered a little longer than usual over breakfast, but work eventually demanded their attention. The station didn’t stop running because it was Christmas day.

  Thorne expected some grumbles about that, but the special breakfast and the prospect of dinner, or simply the Christmas spirit, was enough to silence any remarks. Ian was on a crew assigned to jobs in the valley that morning, so Thorne could tag along with him instead of working with someone else. His equestrian skills were improving, but not to the point that he could ride out with the others yet. “Soon,” Ian said whenever Thorne asked.

  None of the jackaroos was what Thorne would call lazy, but they all threw themselves into their tasks with extra enthusiasm.

  “They know the sooner everything gets done, the sooner we can stop for the day,” Ian explained at one point. It made sense, and everyone’s focus paid off. By noon, they’d finished their tasks and headed back to the bunkhouse or their individual houses to clean up before dinner.

  “I don’t have anything really nice to wear to dinner,” Thorne said as they walked back to Ian’s house.

  “Nothing is formal on the station,” Ian said. “I’ll wear my nice boots instead of my grubby ones and maybe a pair of khakis instead of jeans, but that’s as fancy as it gets around here.”

  “I can handle that,” Thorne replied with a grin. “I’m used to military formal, dress uniforms and the like.”

  “You’d stick out like a sore thumb if you dressed up like that here,” Ian said. “Carley and Linda might put on sundresses. Molly would, except I don’t know if she has one that will fit over her belly. But even that is as much about temperature as being dressed up.”

  “Does that mean you’ll wear a short-sleeved shirt?” Thorne teased.

  “No, because we’ll probably end up outside after dinner, and I don’t want to get sunburned. Sunscreen is all well and good, but it wears off, and then I’m the color of a lobster.”

  Thorne wanted to cajole, for the opportunity to stare at Ian’s arms in public if nothing else, but he couldn’t argue with the sunburn part, and he didn’t want Ian in pain or in danger of skin cancer, so he’d save his ogling for later, in private. Ian still slept in his sleeveless T-shirt at night, but that gave Thorne access to his arms, at least.

  They showered and changed quickly. Ian looked good enough to eat in his khakis and a cambric shirt one step up from his usual work shirts. Thorne would enjoy peeling it off him when they were finally alone tonight. It might not go any farther than that, but he’d cherish every intimacy Ian allowed him. The thought flitted through his head that perhaps tonight he would finally learn the truth of Ian’s past, but he wouldn’t push. Next week, if Ian hadn’t said anything, he’d ask again, but he wouldn’t spoil the day by asking tonight.

  They’d just got seated, their plates overflowing with food, as promised, when Neil came up to the table and slapped them both on the shoulders. “Happy Christmas,” he said with his trademark grin.

  “Happy Christmas,” Ian replied easily. Thorne repeated his own wishes as well.

  “Thank you for the bedframe you made Dani,” Neil said. “She loved it. She’s all ready to be a big girl now and finally agreed the baby could use her cradle.”

  “She’s been out of that thing for eighteen months,” Ian said with a shake of his head.

  “I know,” Neil said, “but it was still hers, even when she wasn’t using it. Now she has her own special bed that’s far better than the cradle because Uncle Ian made it just for her.”

  “I made the cradle for her too,” Ian pointed out.

  “We’re trying not to remind her of that,” Neil said. “The cradle’s for babies. The new bed is just for her.”

  “I’m glad she likes it,” Ian said.

  “She does. She wanted to know when Uncle Ian and Uncle Thorne were coming over to see how it looks in her big girl room,” Neil said.

  Ian must have answered because Neil nodded and walked off, but Thorne didn’t hear what either of them said for the rushing in his ears. Uncle Thorne… he’d given up on ever hearing that name when his brother died. Now in less than a month, he’d become honorary uncle to a domineering three-year-old who had the world wrapped around her little finger, as far as he could tell.

  “Happy Christmas, mates.”

  Thorne startled, reaching automatically for a weapon before he settled himself and summoned a smile for Chris and Jesse who, like Neil, seemed to be making the rounds of the tables.

  “Happy Christmas,” Ian said. “Are you glad to have Seth home?”

  “It’s always good to see him,” Chris said, “although I hate to see him leave when breaks are over.”

  “I know, but he’s doing well in Sydney, right? I mean, he certainly seems happy,” Ian said.

  “Yes, he seems to be doing well,” Chris replied. “I just wish he could get home more often.”

  “We’re spoiled,” Ian said. “Most families don’t spend nearly as much time together, even if they all live in the same town.”

  “I know,” Chris said, “but that doesn’t make it easier to see him leave.”

  “Let him stretch his wings now and maybe someday he’ll come home to roost,” Ian said.

  “I keep hoping,” Chris said. “Also, thank you for the new table for our veranda. Now we can actually set food out if we invite people over for a beer instead of having to traipse in and out of the house.”

  “You’re welcome,” Ian said. “We expect an invitation to try it out soon.”

  “As soon as we can make a run into town to get stuff for a party, you and Thorne are first on the list of guests,” Jesse promised.

  “Did you make something for everyone on the station?” Thorne asked when Chris and Jesse heade
d off to get their own food.

  “Not for everyone,” Ian said, “but I tried to make something for the year-rounders. The seasonal jackaroos come and go, but the others, they’re family.”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Thorne said. “You must have spent months working on Christmas presents.”

  “Unless somebody needs something urgently, I tend to make things all year and give them at Christmas,” Ian explained. “Macklin lets me use one of the small sheds for my finished projects so they don’t clutter up my house, and everyone pretty much respects my privacy and doesn’t go looking to see what I might have made for them.”

  “That’s got to get expensive,” Thorne said.

  Ian shrugged. “I live on the station. I don’t go into town and blow my money on booze or anything else. I buy new gear when I need it, and everything else pretty much goes into the bank and sits there. I can afford to buy the wood to make nice gifts for my friends, and if it’s something for the station, like the chairs on the porch of the bunkhouse, Caine pays for the wood and for my labor, even though I keep telling him all he has to do is buy the wood.”

  “You can say it as often as you like,” Sam said, joining them at the table. “You won’t get him to listen.”

  “Happy Christmas, Sam,” Ian said with a smile.

  “Happy Christmas, and thank you for the desk. It will be nice to have a place to work without always being in Caine’s space. He’s out in the paddocks more than he’s in the office these days, but it’s still very much his office.”

  “You’re welcome,” Ian said. “I feel like that was more a ‘you’ gift than a ‘you and Jeremy’ gift. I hope Jeremy doesn’t mind.”

  “He doesn’t,” Sam assured Ian. “It means I come home in the evenings instead of going back into the office to check that last thing I forgot.”

  Ian chuckled. “It’s hard to leave work when you work where you live, isn’t it?”

  “As if any of us are ever completely off duty,” Sam said with a laugh. “You have figured that out, haven’t you, Thorne?”

  “After years in the military, I wouldn’t know any other way to be,” Thorne admitted. “Even when we weren’t on watch, it was understood we were still on duty if necessary.”

  “I knew there was a reason you fit right in,” Sam said.

  “Where’s Jeremy?” Thorne asked. It was almost as odd to see Sam without Jeremy as it was to see Caine without Macklin. He occasionally saw Jeremy or Macklin without their partners, but rarely the other way around.

  “He went to Taylor Peak,” Sam said with a moue of displeasure on his face. “He’s setting himself up for disappointment, but he won’t stop trying.”

  “Would you, if you were in his shoes and you and Neil had a falling out?” Ian asked.

  “No,” Sam admitted, “but Caine took care of Neil’s prejudices, so I never had to fight that battle. Sometimes I think I’ll never repay everything I owe him.”

  “I think,” Thorne said slowly, “that he doesn’t keep a tally sheet. I think he gives selflessly because he knows the loyalty and love he gets in return will carry him through the rest of his life.” He hadn’t thought in those terms before, not exactly, but the words certainly applied to his own feelings for the station owners. They’d given him a chance because he needed one and because Neil had asked them to for Ian’s benefit. They’d overlooked his temper and had let him start to put down roots. In return, he’d work to the point of exhaustion if they asked him to.

  “No, he doesn’t,” Sam agreed. “That only makes me more aware of it. I guess it’s the accountant in me. I’m going to get some food.”

  “You can come back and sit with us if you want, since Jeremy isn’t here,” Thorne offered.

  “Thanks,” Sam said, “but I promised Dani I’d sit with them. You’d think she’d get enough of Uncle Sam, as much time as I spend with Neil and Molly, but it’s never enough as far as she’s concerned.”

  Sam headed to join Neil and his family, and Thorne turned to Ian. Before he could figure out how to phrase his question, though, Caine walked to the front of the room and drew everyone’s attention.

  “Merry Christmas, everyone,” he said when all the jackaroos had settled down.

  “Happy Christmas!” everyone chorused back.

  “Fine, happy Christmas,” Caine said with a smile. “Those of you who’ve been around a few years know I try to take this opportunity every year to thank you all for being here, whether it’s for a summer or a lifetime. For those of you who’ve been around before, some of this will be familiar, but it bears repeating and remembering. When Uncle Michael founded Lang Downs, he did so on a wish and a prayer, believing he could turn this valley into a prosperous sheep station while still treating the people who worked for him with basic decency and common courtesy. He didn’t tolerate prejudice and he always stood up for what was right, even when it made him unpopular with his neighbors. I d-didn’t get to meet him while he was alive, but I knew him through the letters we exchanged and now through the stories I’ve heard from all of you who did get the honor of meeting him.

  “My journey to Lang Downs st-started seven years ago today, when my mother told us Uncle Michael had died. She and my father send their regrets again this year. My f-f-f-father’s health d-doesn’t permit them to tr-travel from Ohio to be here with us all, but they wanted me to extend their w-w-wishes for a prosperous and happy new year to all of you since they couldn’t say it in person. Anyway, my journey started seven years ago today, and I hope it won’t end for many, many more years. Those of you who were here then—Kami, Neil, Ian, Kyle, Patrick, Carley, and of course Macklin, among others—welcomed me despite my ignorance and taught me what I needed to know. We’ve followed Uncle M-Michael’s tradition and opened our d-doors to new faces since then, and especially this year, so an extra welcome to the newest members of our family, Linda and Thorne. I hope your t-t-tenure on Lang Downs will be as b-b-blessed as mine has been.

  “The rest of the day is yours to do with as you please. I can’t do away with all work on Christmas, but I’ve always tried to keep it to a minimum. Enjoy your day with your friends, with your family if they’re here with you, and thank you all for making Lang Downs home.”

  Everyone applauded as Caine sat back down next to Macklin, who promptly put his arm around Caine’s shoulders, and Thorne couldn’t help but notice a few people wiping their eyes surreptitiously. Only years of training at masking his emotions allowed him to keep his own feelings in check. He’d been a wanderer for so long, going where he was sent and fighting when he was told. He still wasn’t sure what to do with the possibility of having a home again, but he knew one thing for certain: he wasn’t giving it up without a fight. He belonged here now. Caine had said so himself. Dani called him Uncle Thorne. Jesse invited him for drinks as naturally as he’d invited Ian. Sam said he fit right in.

  He turned to look at Ian, who wasn’t even trying to hide how deeply Caine’s speech had touched him. He smiled at Thorne and reached for his hand, there on the table, in plain sight of anyone who happened to be looking, but nobody cared. Or rather, nobody minded, because Thorne was quite sure a number of people cared that Ian and Thorne were together, and if that wasn’t a reason to stay come hell or high water, Thorne didn’t know what was. He had a chance at a life here, with an amazing man in a community that would accept them. He’d spent twenty years fighting for his country. He planned to spend the rest of his time fighting for this new life.

  “Finish eating,” Ian said softly. “I haven’t given you your Christmas present yet.”

  Twenty-One

  THORNE SHOVELED his food as fast as he could without making himself sick. As it was, he felt bad for not taking the time to appreciate Sarah and Kami’s cooking the way it deserved, but he didn’t want to wait any longer to give Ian his present and to see what Ian had got—or made—for him.

  “It hasn’t been that long since breakfast, has it?” Caine asked. “I like to think I don’t starve
my jackaroos that badly.”

  “No, it’s not that,” Thorne said, wiping his mouth. “I wanted to finish dinner so I could give Ian his present.”

  Caine smiled. “That is important. Ian, thank you for the picture frames. I couldn’t have found one the right size for that photo of Uncle Michael and Donald.”

  “And the hinged one is perfect for Mum’s wedding photo and the one I still have of her from when I was a kid,” Macklin added. “She’ll fuss about me putting it out, but it’s the one thing I kept when I ran away.”

  “I’m glad you like them,” Ian said. “I love making furniture and things, but the sentimental gifts are always the best.”

  Macklin turned to Thorne. “We haven’t run you off yet. Are you ready to sign on?”

  “Caine made quite a case for staying just now,” Thorne said, “but I’ve still got a lot to learn if I’m going to make it here year-round.”

  “Nothing time and experience won’t fix,” Macklin said. “We were all blow-ins once. We all learned. You will too.”

  “You’ve already learned a lot more than I had in a month,” Caine said. “You should have seen me trying to get my feet under me. I couldn’t have been any more ignorant if I’d tried. You, at least, have all the experience from your military training.”

  “I’m not sure how much good that does me on a sheep station,” Thorne replied.

  “Trust me, it’s a lot more useful than ten years in a mail room was,” Caine said wryly. “We won’t keep you, so you can finish your dinner and open presents, but we meant the offer to sign on year-round. You don’t have to decide tonight. It’s open-ended.”

  “No,” Thorne said. “I don’t need to think about it. I didn’t figure you’d offer so soon, but I already knew I wanted it if you did.”

  “We’ll sign the contract in the morning, then,” Caine said. “It talks about a house of your own, but I don’t imagine you care that there isn’t one empty at the moment.”

  “No, I’m perfectly happy with my current living arrangements,” Thorne said, shooting Ian a heated look.