25. 25
25
Colton
I winced and swore as the tractor hit a rut in the ground, jarring my body. The weight of the post banger attached to the back only made it hop and swing more violently. Up ahead, in the ute, Beau and Dad were already coming to a stop. Bastard. Ever since I’d arrived home, Beau had palmed Dad off to me but he’d been quick to be Dad’s chauffeur in the ute so he didn’t draw the short straw with the tractor.
I was still glaring when I shut the tractor off behind the ute, much to Dad’s chuckling delight.
‘Been a while since you’ve driven a tractor without a cab or shiny paint?’
Although things were still tense between us, I saw a small grin lift Beau’s mouth as he began sliding posts from the tray of the ute.
‘I don’t know what sort of life you think I live in the US—’ I removed my earmuffs. ‘—but I live in a trailer that has to be anchored in blizzards.’
This brought on another round of chuckles from my dad. Why he even bothered to come out fencing, with his arm back in a sling after a talking-to from his doctor, I didn’t know. At the crack of dawn, he’d dragged Beau and I into the kitchen, stating that we needed some “family bonding” over banging posts and running wire. I thought it was a bold decision, considering Dad might be pulling me from the auger this time after Beau had thrown me into its death spiral.
‘Hang on, Dorothy! We’re not in Kansas anymore!’ Dad continued having a right hoot with himself, and I guessed he was imagining me getting sucked into a tornado with my trailer.
I jumped from the tractor, joining Beau in tossing the fencing posts in line with the ones we would be replacing. ‘Did you double his meds this morning?’
My brother looked to our dad who’d managed to settle himself down and organise the smaller tools. His broad shoulders shrugged as he tossed the post to the ground with a thump. I thought he might say something but he only kept moving along the fence line. Thump, thump, thump .
Still frosty, then.
***
Not that my dad needed a head bigger than the one already shoved into his worn cowboy hat, but he’d been right about today. It hadn’t been as bad as we’d imagined, this little “family outing”. In fact with Beau and I so distracted with our work and just wanting to get the job done, we were working together like a well-oiled machine. Acting like brothers, even.
I tipped my hat back slightly, using my forearm to wipe a sheen of sweat from my forehead, before plonking it back on and continuing to hammer the wire to the post with a staple. The old posts had been pulled out and loaded into the ute. They’d be donated to the local pony club, so that the young riders could paint them in colourful patterns and use them for jumps. The new ones had been hammered in with the contraption on the back of the tractor and now we were steadily attaching the wire onto them. So far, we’d gotten the bottom strand attached and taut. Only four more strands to run.
The large paddock we worked in was where the weaned youngsters would be turned out for the rest of the summer with a year group of our mature horses we kept around. They would learn how to be in a herd environment as well as being able to absorb their months of freedom before the hard work of being broken in began. My favourite part of the year had always been running the herd into the paddock, watching them kick and fart with excitement once they burst through the open gate. They would thunder off into the distance, only seeing us when we came to check on them. Then, we would round them up and run them back to the homestead. They’d be branded and registered, learning for the first time what it meant to share a bond with a human. To give themselves over to us.
It had been my mum’s favourite time too, and I wondered if it was why I loved it so much. I’d only done it a couple of times with her when she’d been alive. While Dad and a more confident Beau had ridden at the head of the herd, Mum had ridden with me at the back. My smaller self had been on the quietest horse we owned, but Mum had still clipped me onto the lead rope and towed me behind her. She’d loved taking photos of our lifestyle too. Her camera had been slung around her neck, a wide smile on her face. The large blown-up picture, which continued to hang in the kitchen, of horses kicking up clouds of dust, had been snapped during the last time I’d ridden with her.
A sharp whistle brought me from memory lane and I twisted to look at Dad waving Beau and I over to the ute a short distance away. ‘Lunch!’
My belly rumbled, my legs unable to move quick enough when I thought of the lamb, cheese and pickle sandwiches we’d packed in the morning. Beau came alongside me, and I prepared myself to swing a punch when he bumped me so I stumbled, only to stop myself at the cheeky grin on his face.
‘Good to see you can still build a fence, bull rider.’
I scoffed. ‘What can I say? When you have a career in hurtling over them to save yourself, you start to appreciate the engineering.’
Beau threw his head back and chuckled. I didn’t know if I could wipe the grin off my face. For the first time in seven years, I felt like I had my brother back. We weren’t at each other’s throats or sending glares. There wasn’t the heaviness of sharing a girl we were both in love with. We were just brothers again; working and joking together.
I hoisted myself up onto the tray of the ute, thankful Dad had parked it under the shade of some nearby trees so the metal didn’t burn our arses through the denim. With his good hand, he tossed Beau and I an alfoil-wrapped sandwich each, which I tore into like a crazed animal. I let out an elaborate moan when the cold meat, cheese and bitter pickles danced across my tastebuds.
Beau looked across at me with raised eyebrows. ‘Been a while?’
I shook my head, needing to bask in the deliciousness a little longer before I spoke again. ‘Do you know how many looks you get in the US when you ask for a lamb, cheese and pickle toastie?’
Dad chuckled. ‘When you go back we’ll pack you a whole suitcase of them.’
Beau had already devoured one sandwich, now tucking into his second, when he asked, ‘When are you going back, anyway?’
‘Yeah, don’t think we don’t hear the heated conversations you’ve been having with that agent of yours,’ added Dad, tucking a big bite of his own lunch.
I rolled my eyes, scrunching the alfoil into a ball and reaching into the esky for my second. ‘Good to know I can have a private conversation around here.’
Beau and Dad grinned at each other.
I shrugged, willing for the stress revolving around my career not to kill the deliciousness of my sandwich. Glenn continued to call, my flight remained unbooked. ‘As soon as you’re mended, Dad, I’m out of here.’
‘I am mended, son.’
I spoke through a mouthful, ‘That wing says differently.’
‘Well I’m out here fencing, aren’t I?’
Beau rolled his eyes, now rummaging through the esky and handing out a can of soft drink to each of us. ‘Dad, you’ve been sitting in the shade reading those books Beau got for you between naps. Which is fine, we don’t want you blowing up your injuries, but you’re far from being able to help me around here again.’
‘I wasn’t napping.’ My dad’s eyes narrowed, shifting between us.
‘We could hear the snores from up there!’ Beau jabbed a finger to where we’d walked from. ‘You sounded like a koala!’
I threw my head back in laughter, coughing when the bit of sandwich I’d just swallowed lodged in my throat. Beau gave me a solid thump on my back. I took a swig of drink and cleared my throat. ‘Seriously, Dad. Don’t worry about me. Just focus on getting better.’
We fell into an easy silence, polishing off the last of our sandwiches and crushing our cans once we’d drank them all.
‘I wonder what your mum must be thinking, watching the three of us from up there.’ A whimsical look had come onto my dad’s face as he squinted up at the sky.
‘One son is crazy enough to jump on the back of bulls,’ I mused.
‘Her husband is making a run to be the next Big Bird.’ Dad gave a flap of his wing.
‘And the other son is looking after you two idiots,’ chimed Beau, causing us to laugh together.
‘She’d be proud of you boys,’ said Dad earnestly and I looked away from the glossiness of his eyes.
Beau broke the tender moment with a grunt. ‘We haven’t been the bestest of brothers.’
I slid from the ute, not wanting the issues which had plagued us for so long to make an appearance yet. Couldn’t we just have a day of not hating each other’s guts? Beau seemed to have the same thought, a flicker of regret coming across his face as his own boots hit the ground.
‘Your mum loved doing this.’ Beau and I paused returning to the fence when it seemed Dad’s reminiscing wasn’t yet done. ‘Just being out here, even doing the most mundane of jobs. She just loved it when we were all together. Beau, you’d remember. I suppose you were a bit young, Colton.’
I smiled gently. ‘Nah, Dad. I remember. We would head out to do whatever jobs needed doing with you and she’d catch up to us later after finishing the housework.’
Dad chuckled, shaking his head. ‘Your mum’s definition of housework was throwing the washing in the machine and forgetting about it until we ran out of jocks. She hated being stuck indoors. Always wanted to be outside with the horses, and then you kids. You’re the perfect halves of her. Beau, you’ve got the touch with horses and Colton, you’ve got that rodeo bug that was always part of her even when she settled here.’
Dad drifted into silence again, as did Beau and I, each of us consumed with our own memories.
‘You two better get the rest of this fence done before the sun sets.’ Dad was the one to break us apart, waving his hands as if shooing pesky chickens.
I waited until Beau and I were back stapling wires to the posts and Dad was back in the ute, one leg swinging out the door as he read his book before I spoke. ‘Sometimes I don’t think about how much he must miss Mum.’
Beau paused his hammering. ‘Neither do I.’ He gave a decent whack to the staple, one which almost sent the entire thing into the post. ‘It’s bullshit. How two people can be so right for each other, only for it to end that way.’
I stayed quiet, hammering my own staple, wondering if Beau was talking about our parents at all.
‘Fucking bullshit.’