Mountain Ash (5 page)

He slowly opened his eyes, flinching at the sudden glare of sunshine pouring through the high-set donga windows. He flung an arm across his head. It blocked the bright burst from punishing his gritty eyes and allowed him a minute or two to acclimatise. He felt like shit.

The whimpering noise that had woken him was still playing like a CD on rollback. Risking the light, he half sat and glanced around. There was a mound of chocolate-brown hair splayed across the pillow to his right. Beyond that his dog, Rupert, was sitting beside the mattress looking at the mound connected to the hair and whining like he didn't know what it was.

Nate looked at the mound in horror and groaned. He knew
what
it was. The problem was he didn't know
who
it was. Donna? Debbie? Diana? Please God, not Diana. That woman had a big mouth. She'd tell everyone from there to Broome about his dimensions
and
prowess in great detail. He swore, which made
the mound move in a restless manner. He shut his trap real quick. He didn't want her to wake up before he'd worked out who the hell he'd taken to bed in a drunken stupor. The girl's name started with D, he was sure of that. Well, as sure as he could be after pouring a litre of rum into his gullet. He hadn't done that in ages, but the boys had convinced him to head to town for an early end-of-season piss-up (any excuse) and, well, one thing had led to another and he'd ended up holding up the bar with a few of the other ringers. Like a dickhead he'd started to drive home, figuring if he could just get outside the town boundary he'd stop and sleep it off by a creek bed. He'd forgotten the other blokes coming up in the ute behind. They'd banged into the back of his LandCruiser when he stopped to find the track that led off the road onto the creek bank. Stupid buggers. Then again, he'd been a fuckwit too, driving in that state. He vaguely recalled a carload of girls had come along next. Well, maybe there were only two of them. He shook his head, trying to remember. Moaned at the knife that now jabbed into his skull. He slumped back down in the bed.

Think about it, McGregor! Who was the girl? Who'd been in that car? Dawn? Devina? Deanne? Please, please God, not Deanne. Surely not Deanne, the feisty barmaid. She was engaged to be married! No, no, Deanne had flaming red hair. This one was a brunette.

In the meantime, Rupert had decided enough was enough. He jumped onto the bed, causing the mound to move some more. Nate quickly hauled the old kelpie across the top of the pillow, the only part of that side of the bed that wasn't claimed by the sprawling body.

Wiggling sideways, he pushed the dog into the valley of clear bed he'd made between him and the woman at his side.
Rupert laid his head on outstretched paws and managed a withering look at his master for the unaccustomed restriction of bed space. Nate ignored the dog and quietly went on wrest ling with the woman's identity until finally exhaustion and thus sleep threatened to claim him again. The name came to him on the edges of unconsciousness. Danielle. Oh Christ.
Danielle!

Fuck.

Nathaniel threw the last of his gear into the back of the LandCruiser ute. He'd be sad to leave this property. Mount Elizabeth had been good to him. Well, so long as Van Over stayed away from the place. For three years running Nate had come back to work as a stockman, leaving at the end of the season in late November and returning again in March. He usually spent the lay time wandering around the New South Wales northern coast, picking up a bit of work here and there.

‘You gunna come back over this way, get a job on another place?' said Wally.

Nate looked out across the landscape. He could see mulga, salt and witchetty bush, a few supplejacks and many other shrubby trees – the Northern Territory kind of scrub. Very different from the bush back home in the high country of Victoria. ‘Nup. I don't think so this time.'

‘What?' Wal sounded surprised. ‘Don't let Van Over put you off. Plenty of other bosses around here that'd have you in their camp. Plus you always come back like a bad smell.'

‘And that's what I think I'd be if I did return,' said Nate, glancing towards the big house. The governess's quarters sat slightly to one side of the low, sprawling white homestead.

‘Boss
really
not happy with you bedding the govie?'

‘No, siree, he was not. Danielle went up and told them about us after I said I wouldn't have slept with her sober. I think she might have been offended. Ferris told me to haul my arse out of here before he jobbed me one. And, to be honest, I would've belted me too if I'd have been him. Turns out she's only bloody seventeen.'

‘Christ!' Wal, a stickler for convention, physically shuddered. From what Nate had seen of him, the older man usually turned to a lump of cement when young, attractive females were around. Shyness rendered him speechless other than the odd grunt. ‘So where you going? Not back to them mountains?'

Nate's sky-blue eyes squinted towards the south. Silence stretched between the two men for so long most people would have been uncomfortable. But these blokes were different. It was the Territory way. What didn't happen today might happen tomorrow or next week or next month.

Wal pulled out a packet of Tally Hos and his baccy. He rolled a smoke, lit it up, peered to the south too. ‘So?' he asked finally.

Nate slowly moved from his place leaning up beside the white ute. ‘I dunno. Think I'll head east a bit and then take a run down through western Queensland and New South Wales. There's a horse there I'd like to see. A bloke's bringing it to a campdraft somewhere near Dubbo. If I miss him there he's then heading to the Snowy Mountains.'

‘You're going home.' A statement made around a wobbling cigarette.

Nate sighed and pulled his battered Akubra down lower on his head. ‘Yes. I guess I am.' He turned to Wal and gave a
rueful grin. ‘Not sure how that'll go. Ten years is a while to be gone.'

‘You've been back though?'

‘Yeah. A couple of times earlier on but that's it.'

‘Why?' Wal made it sound like a throwaway question, something said on the fly. But his old eyes belied the truth of it. He was actually really interested.

‘Oh, I don't know. The old man's got his hands firmly on the reins. When I work with him I can't make any decisions without him saying yay or nay. He's an arrogant, autocratic old prick. I got sick of it. Better out on my own, doing my own thing without him telling me what to do.'

‘So what's changed?'

‘He rang me out of the blue. Got my mobile number off his housekeeper. Said he's thinking of getting married. She's a young chick. Probably some gold-digger. She's only in her early thirties so I'd be getting a stepmother the same age as me.'

‘Half his bloody luck,' muttered Wal, before covering the comment with a choke. The old bloke waved his hand around at Nate's loaded look. ‘Sorry. Too much smoke.'

Nate folded his arms in defence. ‘I reckon he's been taken for a fool. He apparently wants to spend more time with her, so he asked me to come home.'

‘I'll bet he does!' Wal was coughing around the words.

Nate watched the old bloke's efforts for a minute and finally let out a half laugh. ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah … It's every man's wet dream, I know, especially with blokes your age.'

‘How old's your father?'

‘Fifty-eight.'

‘I'm only fifty-seven.'

Nate tried not to look shocked. He would have sworn Wally was in his late sixties. It was all those crevices on his face. And no teeth. And the bald spots. Nate kicked at the tyre again and muttered, ‘You don't say?' He hoped Wal hadn't seen his face. ‘Anyway, as I was saying, I want to make sure this woman isn't screwing him outside the bedroom as well.'

‘Well, as a man of learned age,' and here Wally paused to let Nate know he knew exactly what the younger man had been thinking, ‘I reckon your dad would be mighty happy to have an extra set of hands around.' He fixed Nate with a pointed stare. ‘But you need to keep your paws to yourself.'

‘Wallace Price! You don't think I'd be bedding my father's mistress. Geez, what do you think I am?'

‘A handsome young bloke, who'll inherit that multi-million-dollar property one day,' said Wally. He sighed and leaned down to scratch at Rupert's ears. The dog had got sick of waiting on the back of the ute while the two men talked. The mutt scratched at his belly with his hind leg in ecstasy as Wally hit the right spot. ‘Just watch yourself is all I'm saying.' Wally stood back leaving Rupert to whine at his feet. ‘You go waltzing back in there, and if she's what you say she is, she'll be after more than your father.'

A screen door banged from somewhere behind them and they both turned to see Ferris Van Over stalking through a stand of trees towards them.

‘Oh shit, here comes trouble,' muttered Nate. ‘I wanted to be out of here before I saw him.'

‘Too late now,' said Wal, moving quickly to call Rupert back up onto the ute tray. He fastened the dog to his chain. ‘Get in the ute, then you might be able to get going quick.'

But they weren't quick enough. Van Over, seeing the flurry of action, quickened his stride. Nate had only just got around to the driver's side of the ute when Ferris halted a metre away.

‘Wally?'

‘Yeah, that's me.'

‘You can go too.'

‘What –?'

‘I don't like people who lie. Get your stuff and be out of here by three.'

Wally keeled sideways like he'd been shot.

‘What the fu–?' Shocked, Nate untangled himself from getting into the vehicle and strode around the bonnet to his friend, who was still reeling. ‘What has Wal ever done to you?' He directed this to Van Over, while at the same time grabbing hold of his mate. Stood him up straight, willing him to take whatever had got Van Over's goat on the chin. Something told Nate it'd be important to the old bloke later. If there was a later, now knowing how ruthless the Mount Elizabeth station owner was.

‘You lied to me about Trumby Laws. He wasn't in town getting fencing materials. There's a truckload of the stuff in the sheds. He was skylarking about with his wife.'

Nate gave a half laugh. ‘Hardly. She'd just left the poor bastard. He was trying to get her back.'

‘So you, Mr McGregor, agree that Mr Price here lied to me?'

Having spent most of his life dealing with his father, Nate wasn't going to be backed into that corner. No bloody way. ‘I never said that, Van Over. For all we knew he was getting fencing gear. He's our boss. He doesn't need to explain himself to us.'

‘
I
was your boss, McGregor.'

‘I work for Trumby.' This came from a half-bent-over Wal.

‘I pay your wages, board and keep.'

‘Yeah. But that's no reason to fire me out of hand. I was just delivering the message I was told!'

Nate finally felt Wally stand up straight beside him. He risked a glance sideways and could see tears in the old bloke's eyes. For fuck's sake. He started to say something but Wally got in first.

‘I'll have you for this. I'll report you to the Office of … something –'

Van Over talked right over the top of Wal, drowning him out. ‘What're you doing here anyway, McGregor? You were supposed to be gone by eight. My niece is still in hysterics over at the main house with Marion. I should have you charged with statutory rape.'

‘She's legal, you ponce! And
she
came on to
him
,' said Wal, clearly giving his future at Mount Elizabeth up as a bad bet. ‘After she drove him home from that creek bed where he was camped, she was outta that car and suckered to his dick like a leech.'

Van Over started to puff and blow. He turned as red as a beet and pulled up an arm like he was going to –

‘That's enough!' Nate's voice held the authority that should have, by rights, belonged to Van Over. It was enough to make Ferris pause and Wally, who was fronting up to the punch, turn towards the younger bloke. ‘Get in my ute, Wally.'

‘What?'

‘Just get in the ute.'

Wally Price shuffled a bit then turned and slowly opened the passenger door.

Nate walked around to the driver's side but as he went to get in he glanced over at Ferris. ‘We'll be going, but if we ever
meet again on even ground, Van Over, I'll bring you down. You mightn't think me worthy of the dust beneath your feet, but one day I will be bigger and better than you'll ever be.'

‘Is that a threat?'

‘No, that's a promise I mean to keep.'

‘You'll never amount to anything, McGregor.'

‘We'll see about that.' Nate got in the ute, keyed the motor, muttering again, ‘We'll see about that.' But he wasn't sure whether he was talking to his former boss or his estranged father.