Pawliday Love

Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

MCKENZIE

I don’t know what I was thinking when I picked Brenda up, rather than her jumping from the back of my ute. A jolt of electricity went straight to my dick, and he stood at attention real fast. Brenda felt it too, I’m sure by the way her cheeks turned crimson.

“Let’s get to it, then,” she mutters before turning away from me, strolling over to the house instead.

“Where are you going? Aren’t you heading the wrong way?”

“Nope,” she replies over her shoulder. “I’m loading what I need first, and then the animals.”

She did say animals, right? It’s probably a cat or two. I can handle that.

I’m still standing in the same place when she re-emerges from the house with a suitcase in one hand and a cat’s carry cage in the other. Brenda puts both down, calling out for me to turn my ute around. I do as she said, leaving the motor running as I head for the shed.

I’ve opened both doors wide. “Where do you keep your ropes,” I inquire.

Brenda steps inside the shed, reaching under the oversized raft, and unravelling them. I hook them up to my tow ball and silently pray this thing doesn’t fall apart.

When it’s ready, I jump into the ute, put the gear in drive, and press the accelerator gently, allowing me to get the feel of things. I put more power into it and feel the raft moving slowly and surely.

Out in the light, I get a better look at Brenda’s ark.

I’m still apprehensive about it, but there’s not much I can do to make it any better. There’s not enough time.

An odd sound breaks my concentration and when I turn to where the noise is, I see Brenda dragging a large flat piece of steel. Of course, I go to help her, even if I don’t know what she’s doing. She shows me how to lean it on the raft while the other end sits on the ground.

“Okay, most difficult animals first,” she mutters.

“How many animals do you expect to fit on here?” I cross-examine her. “Define most difficult,” I add, cocking my head at her.

“You’ll see in a minute,” she replies slyly, heading back into the shed. I follow behind.

Brenda exits a stall pulling on a long thick rope. On the other end of it is a Brahman bull. He’s enormous. From his dark grey head and large, dark eyes, and floppy ears to his silver-grey body. He must weigh a ton.

“You’re not putting that on there,” It’s more a statement than a question.

“Bubbles goes with me, or we don’t go.” Brenda snaps, and I can tell by her body language she’s not backing down, so I don’t push it. It doesn’t mean I agree with her, though.

The bull balks at the ramp. Brenda whistles and a Malinois Shepherd exits the house. “Push up,” Brenda orders the dog. It barks and the bull falters at first, but when the dog nips at its legs it clomps heavily up the makeshift ramp. As soon as its job is done, the dog lies down, probably waiting for its next order.

Brenda ties the bull's bridle to some railing welded to the raft before she disappears into the shed again. “Here, give me a hand to get the others,” she calls to me.

Peering out the shed doors I catch the glimmer of the sun reflecting off water. “There better not be a whole herd in there,” I growl. “It’s going to be dangerous enough as it is, without a bunch of hysterical cows,” I add for good measure.

Instead of answering me, the pixie of a woman rolls out of a stall with a wheelbarrow full of bags. It must be food I’m thinking until one bag moves and a joeys head pops out takes a quick look around then ducks back into the bag. “Here,” she nods her head at the wheelbarrow. “Take these up, while I get the food.” As I walk away she calls out, “And it’s a bull, not a cow. I thought being a country boy, you’d know how to tell the sex of an animal.”

I don’t reply. Pixie’s got sass I grin to myself.

There are five bags in total, all carrying joeys of different sizes. I set the bags down gently and wait for her to bring the food, which she does. There’s food and water for the horse, as well as canned stuff with milk labels on them,

The water is at the house when Brenda comes out with the next load, and when she sees it she gasps, before running for the house. “Follow me,” she calls back over her shoulder as she bounds up the steps.

Once we’re inside, I find cats in cat boxes, a galah with a splint on its leg in a small cage, and a long wooden box with small holes drilled into it and a latch on it, which Brenda informs me are sugar gliders with babies.

She thinks this ramshackle raft is an ark. It makes me want to ask if they’re travelling up the ramp two by two as the story’s written, but I don’t.

The final load is a fresh-water, long-necked turtle in a dish of water. On closer examination, I can see where its shell had been cracked. It appears to have been glued together with something.

‘Okay, we’re done,” Brenda puffs. “Now all we need now are some sleeping bags and food for us.” She freezes momentarily before exclaiming. “Shit, I nearly forgot Brunhilda,” and races for the house once more.

“Where are you, Brunhilda? Now is not the time to play the invisible woman.” Brenda groans as she stands in the centre of the house, hand on hips, her eyes perusing the living room.

“Brunhilda?” I question, as Brenda walks slowly over to the windowsill, carefully peels back the curtain, and gently picks up a goanna with two legs bandaged. I have to admit, this woman has guts. Not many people are game enough to do that. Me included.

Dad used to tell us stories about goannas running up people’s legs because they mistake them for trees. Every time I went camping after that, my eyes would constantly scan for them just in case they came at me.

“Here, put him in that box over there and tape it closed,” Brenda’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “The one with the air holes in it.”

When I see what she wants me to hold, I back away. Brenda throws her head back and laughs. It’s a beautiful sound, and in that moment I realise how beautiful she is, both inside and out. Others would leave these animals to fend for themselves, and even though I don’t believe the ark is going to be successful, I’m glad to be here with her today.

The water is creeping closer. It’s time to step up loading stuff onto the ark.

I started the ute up so I could charge my phone while we’re loading. Brenda informs me she doesn’t have one.

“Are you going to hobble the bull?” I’ll feel a little safer if he is, but I don’t say it out loud. She’d probably laugh at me like she did about the goanna.

Brenda shakes her head. “Nope. If anything happens to the raft, we might have to get off in a hurry. It makes our exit easier with a rope. Besides, he can’t swim if he’s hobbled.” She cocks her head at me. “Are you afraid of animals?”

“Who? Me? Of course not.” I declare, not letting on that I’m picturing scenarios in case this thing falls apart.