CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Where I can’t keep my damn mouth shut. Twice.
The next two days, we sorted cattle. We tagged and treated the ones we were keepin’ and waited for the three big old road trains to take the rest to sale. It was always a mix of excitement and relief to see ’em go, and as they drove down the driveway in a cloud of dust, musterin’ was done for another winter.
Talk at the dinner table was all excited and joking about leaving for their week off. They always had a week after every muster. It was always slow after the cattle had gone, and they all usually headed to the Alice the morning after. Because I’d brought the muster a week forward and screwed up the roster, I told ’em to take this weekend, next week and the weekend after. It was eleven days all up, and they more than deserved it.
Their plan was to head out in the morning and not be back until the following Sunday. Trudy and Bacon were thinkin’ of going to the Gold Coast, and Ernie was gonna head to Darwin. Billy said he’d only go as far as the Alice, and Nara wanted stay at home. They were all smiles until Trudy asked what our plans were. “Well, there’s that Beef Farmers meeting this weekend that Charlie and Greg are making me go to,” Travis answered. And then he dropped a bombshell. “Then I have that appointment with the immigration lady on Monday to see if I can stay or not.”
Everyone kinda went from smilin’ to frownin’ and the mood took a nosedive. With drovin’ all week and then the prospect of a week in town, I guess it made sense they’d forgot.
But it never left my thoughts, and it certainly never left Travis’s either.
“We can stay,” Trudy said. I’m presuming she spoke for the team because they all gave a nod. “If you need us to,” she added. “I’m sure we can take our days off another time.”
And the truth be told, as much as I loved my team and as much as I appreciated the gesture of ’em offerin’ to stay, I didn’t mind too much that they’d be gone this week.
I needed time to decompress, to get my head on straight, and to have some quiet time with Travis. He’d been distracted during the day when we were separating the cattle, and he was clingy at night. He’d always have to be near me, some part of him touching me, and he even did Matilda’s night feeds in our bed. I didn’t complain. I didn’t want him too far gone from me either.
I wanted to spend lazy movie-watchin’ days around the house and maybe even a little sleepin’ in, and I couldn’t do that with them around. I couldn’t be curled up on the couch with Travis during the day in case someone walked in.
I gave ’em a smile. “Thanks for the offer. I appreciate it, I really do. But take your week. Enjoy it.” I hooked my foot around Travis’s under the table. I cleared my throat and tried for a conviction I most certainly did not feel. “This meeting’ll be no big deal. We’ll go in on Saturday morning for the conference and be home Monday evenin’.”
I’m sure they saw through me. But thankin’ God for small mercies, none of them called me on it. Travis just kind of looked up from his plate of no-appetite, half-eaten dinner and gave one of those heart-hurting smiles. I wanted to take his hand. Hell, I wanted to hug him right then and there, but I didn’t. There was no way I could.
When they’d all gone for the night and the house was quiet, Travis was lying in front of the fire with little Matilda, and Ma sat down on the lounge next to me. “It was nice of you to give everyone that many days off, Charlie,” she said. “Very generous.”
“It wasn’t just for them,” I said quietly. When my eyes caught Travis’s, Ma understood.
She gave me a smile and a pat on the leg. “Did you want George and me to take off? If you want some alone time, you know you just have to say.”
“No, Ma. I don’t want you to take off somewhere,” I told her. “Unless you want to go. I can book that motel again for you. You can go out for dinner, go dancing.”
Ma smiled warmly. “I was going to suggest you and Travis do that. You’ll have a few extra days in town with no interruptions.”
I shrugged one shoulder and looked at Trav. “It’s up to you. What did you wanna do? We could head in tomorrow with the others if you want, or we can just hang out here.”
He had his hand held out, and Matilda had her little paws on his arm, tryin’ to keep herself steady. “I wanna stay here.”
I looked at Ma and smiled. “We’ll stay here.”
So for the next two days, we removed ourselves from the world around us. We spent the days on Shelby and Texas in the desert, just us, like we didn’t have a worry in the world.
The sun was shining, the sky was a showing-off shade of blue and cloudless but the air was still cold. The desert always looked clean after the rain, everything was fresh and reborn, and I’d be lyin’ if I said it didn’t make me feel a bit the same.
We rode out both days, just enjoying being together in the vast, unforgiving red desert. I loved being able to ride out on Shelby, and having no destination in particular was my favourite frame of mind. I loved it even more when Travis was with me.
We talked all day. Travis talked of home, and I got to thinkin’ that maybe tellin’ me stories didn’t mean he wanted to go there. It didn’t mean he was about to leave me and go home. I think I finally realised he just wanted to share it with me. He was sharing stories of his past, not because he was homesick, but because he wanted me to know the real him.
There wasn’t much I could tell him he didn’t already know about me; my life’s story was in the desert around us. But I was starting to realise I had barely scratched the surface that was Travis. He knew more, he’d done more, he’d seen more than I ever could.
Of a night, we’d curl up in bed, make love and talk some more. He was always near me, forever touching me. And I think what killed me the most was that we’d just reached perfect and now he was going to leave.
I tried to be strong for him, tried to act like I had it all under control, but the truth was, I was falling apart.
The morning we were leaving for Alice Springs, Ma made us a pot of tea, which I didn’t drink, preferring to torture myself by sitting around watching the clock announce every minute. When Travis excused himself to go to the bathroom, Ma kicked me under the table.
“What?”
“You’re making it worse,” she hissed at me. “Even I can feel the nervous energy coming out of you.”
“I’m trying to keep a lid on it,” I whispered back to her. “I can’t help it. I’m nervous as hell.”
A short while later, Travis appeared in the door holding a bundled-up Matilda. She had her trademark big ears and eyes poking out the top. He looked at me. “You ready? I can tell you wanna get this over with.”
I stood up and looked from Travis to Matilda and back to him. “What are you doing with her?”
“Figured now’d be as good a time as any to take her into town. That guy from the kangaroo rescue shelter said we could take her in anytime.”
I shook my head. No. No, no, no. “You’re coming back, Trav.”
He cleared his throat. “You always said she couldn’t stay here forever.”
“Well, she can’t, but she’s not going yet,” I told him. “And neither are you.” I walked over and took her from his arms. I held her up near his face. “Give her a kiss and tell her you’ll see her in three days.”
Trav looked at me with and-you-wonder-why-I-love-you in his eyes. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Matilda’s head. “Be a good girl,” he said.
I rolled my eyes and repeated, “And you’ll see her in three days.”
Travis chuckled and said, “And I’ll see you in three days.”
“See? That wasn’t hard,” I said, handing the bloody kangaroo over to Ma.
She wasn’t even trying to hide her don’t-pretend-you-don’t-love-her-too smile. “You boys drive safe, you hear?”
* * * *
We got to the hotel, and when I suggested going out, Travis said no. He didn’t want to go out, not for drinks, not for dinner. He wanted to stay in, take full advantage of the spa bath and order pizza to be delivered.
Like I was ever gonna say no to that.
He was quiet and restless, even after round one of aquatherapy in the spa, and I think it probably pissed him off that I was so dismissive about his visa worries. “I’m telling you, Trav, it’ll be an easy fix.”
His brow furrowed and he huffed. “What if it’s not?”
I figured wearing him out was a good tactic so he didn’t have time to get stressed. I pushed him back on the mattress and pinned his hands above his head and kissed him instead of answering. Then I wore him out all over again.
The next morning, after sleepin’ in, we went out for a lazy breakfast, had coffee and read the papers. Then to add to my Operation-Distract-Travis, I said, “Come on, let’s go shopping.”
“For what?”
“Clothes.”
“Who for?”
I laughed at the confused look on his face. “For you.”
“I don’t need any clothes. I wear all yours.”
“I know you do,” I said, giving him a just-joking stink-eye. “But you need new clothes. Fancy clothes for your meeting. That woman’ll take one look at you all dressed up and sexy, and she’ll just tick all the boxes.”
Travis rolled his eyes so hard I wondered if it hurt.
But he relented, until we walked into the expensive men’s clothes store and he saw the price of the shirt I was holding.
“Shut up and try it on,” I said, handing over the blue-and-white chequered button-down shirt.
“It’s a hundred and twenty dollars,” he hissed at me, “for a shirt!”
I sighed and handed him a plain blue one as well. “This one too.”
Travis looked at me with “did you not just hear what I said?” written clear on his face.
I shrugged and pretended it was no big deal. “It’ll match the colour of your eyes.”
Travis blinked and looked like he was about to say something, but he must have decided against it. He took the shirt almost timidly.
Before we could have a complete mushy moment in the clothes store, I held up a t-shirt, batted my eyelashes and in the girliest voice I could do, I said, “And this one. It’s almost as pretty as you.”
He snatched the shirt from me. “You’re such a dickhead.”
A saleslady came up to me and asked, “Can I help you, gentlemen?”
Travis said, “Change room for me, sense of humour and some dignity for him.”
I laughed at that. The lady smiled politely and led Travis to the change rooms, and when she came back, I said, “He’ll need jeans and boots too.”
So with no more jokes, we got down to picking out clothes. The lady went straight for the Wranglers, which most stockmen wore, but I suggested a pair of RMs. It’s not like I could just tell her it was because I liked the way they hugged his arse and thighs. I was holding up a pair of blue jeans when Travis walked out of the change rooms wearing the blue shirt I’d picked out. I was right about one thing: it matched his eyes perfectly.
Travis knew it too. He grinned and raised one like-what-you-see? eyebrow, and before I swallowed my tongue, I threw the jeans at him. “Try those on.”
He protested about the boots—well, he protested about the price of them.
“You can’t wear the poxy American ones forever. You need real boots, like mine,” I said.
Travis, the saleslady and I all looked at my well-worn, scuffed, dirty and moulded-to-my-feet boots. “Have you ever cleaned them?” Travis asked.
I shrugged one shoulder. “Wore ’em in the river once, but I don’t think that counts.”
Travis ignored me. “And my boots aren’t poxy. These are adjustin’.”
“How long you had ’em for?” I asked. “They should be adjusted by now.”
He laughed at me. “Not ad-justing. They’re Justin boots.”
“Who’s Justin.”
He took a God-give-me-patience breath and exhaled slowly. “Never mind. I don’t need boots.”
“You need Aussie boots,” I told him. “If you’re gonna live here for the next-however-many years, you need real Aussie boots.”
He looked at me then with I-won’t-be-here-for-years-Charlie-they’re-kicking-me-out-next-week sadness in his eyes. I handed him the boots, like me buying ’em would somehow make a difference in whether or not he could stay. “Please.”
He took the boots, and whether the saleslady who was still standing next to us thought there was more to us than just friends, I didn’t care.
Travis tried the boots on, and I think he let me buy them for him because it made me feel better or something. I don’t think he had it in him to argue over stupid boots, or the winter coat I picked out for him after that, or how much the lot cost.
About a grand later, we collected our bags and walked outside. He was back to bein’ quiet, and I knew without asking what was weighin’ on his mind. I nodded up the street. “This way.”
“What’s up here?” Travis asked.
“Barber shop.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Yep. Ma does a pretty decent job at cuttin’ hair, but you need a proper cut for Monday.” Then, because I figured it was something he might like, I said, “Did you want ’em to wash it too? You know how they do that head-massage thing? Ma says it’s the best thing ever.”
He stepped in close and eyed me cautiously. “First shopping, then the hairdresser? Exactly how gay are you?”
I spoke low so only he could hear. “You can have the shopping and hairdresser, but on the account of loving dick and arse, I’d say very gay.”
Travis burst out laughing, and thankfully, the sullen mood was gone. I don’t think it was ever too far from the surface, and maybe he was just as good at hiding as I was, but either way, we had a great afternoon.
Haircuts done and lunch eaten, we went back to the hotel. I suggested a trip to the reptile centre as a touristy thing to do. “I’ve seen enough desert snakes to last a lifetime, thanks,” he said.
“What did you want to do?” I asked. “We’ve got a few hours before the Beef Farmers Association meeting starts.”
Trav looked at the freshly made bed, then looked at me. His eyes were darker and his voice was gruff, and he palmed the front of my jeans. “Sex, sleep, maybe some more sex…” He trailed off as his lips met mine.
His suggestion of how to fill in an afternoon was so good, we almost didn’t make the meeting.
* * * *
The clubhouse was huge, bigger than I ever remembered. It was a returned serviceman’s club, the place where people spent Friday and Saturday nights drinking and dancing, bands played and community meetings were held. There was a restaurant and bar—something I had every intention of finding first.
“You ever been to one of these meetings before?” Travis asked as we walked in.
“Nope. My old man went to ’em. Said they were important, but I always thought they sounded boring as hell.”
We signed in, and the guy at the reception desk told us the function was upstairs. Bein’ nervous never crossed my mind, but when we walked into the auditorium and there were about eighty people in there, I near turned around and walked out.
I figured there’d be ten or twelve old-time farmers sitting around talking about the good ol’ days and bitching about the cost of fuel. But it wasn’t like that at all. The room was full, people were talking and laughing, there were product sponsors and salesmen doing the rounds. The entire room was dressed like an R.M. Williams catalogue vomited in there, and I was thankful Travis made me buy some new shirts too.
Travis was behind me. “You okay?”
“Um, yeah?”
He laughed. “You can’t lie for shit,” he said, walking toward the bar. “Let’s get you a drink.”
We didn’t get too far. Travis had just ordered two beers when Greg met us at the bar. “Charlie!” he said. He had a smile a mile wide and his hand out. I shook it quickly, glad to see a familiar face. “So glad you could make it.”
Then he turned to Travis and shook his hand as well. “Good to see you in a bit better shape than last time I saw ya,” he said. “How’s the knee?”
“Good as gold,” Travis said. “Never did thank you in person for comin’ looking for me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Greg said. Travis handed me a beer, Greg looked me up and down, then turned to Travis and grinned. “Jeez, Sutton here scrubs up alright, doesn’t he?”
“He sure does,” Travis answered.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” I mumbled, taking a swig of my beer and trying not to die of embarrassment.
Greg threw his head back and laughed. “Come on, there’s people I want you to meet.”
He introduced me to his wife, Jenny, who I hadn’t seen since I was a kid. She must have thought the same because the first thing she said was, “Shit, you grew up.” She was just as I remembered her, though, light brown hair, blue eyes, sun-worn skin and a no-nonsense mouth. I liked her immediately.
“Jen, this is Travis, the American kid I was tellin’ you about,” Greg said to his wife. I was wondering just what exactly he’d told her and whether that entailed just how close me and Trav were. But then he said, “The one who spent a night out in the desert with a busted-up knee.”
She shook his hand and there was small talk for a while, none of which pertained to gay farmers, for which I was eternally thankful. Whether she knew and didn’t say outta bein’ polite or if her husband never told her a word of what he saw, I don’t know.
Jenny smiled kind of sadly and said, “Charlie, I was very sorry to hear of your father.”
Oh. I hadn’t even thought of that topic of conversation being raised here tonight. I wasn’t even real sure what to say to that. Thanks didn’t seem wholly appropriate. So I said, “I’m very grateful for all the help Greg gave me at that time. It wasn’t easy.”
Greg just smiled and gave a pointed nod to someone behind me. “Well, I hope you’re prepared to do the rounds tonight. There’s some people who’ll be real interested in seein’ you here.”
Well, that sounded ominous.
And by people who’d be interested in seein’ me here, he meant the ten or twelve old-time farmers I’d assumed were here.
Despite the last day of being very much boyfriends, Travis and I were back to playing the single, straight, just-workmates game. Along with Greg, we took our seats at a table of eight older-than-middle-aged, all fourth and fifth generation Territory farmers. I only recognised their names, not the faces. But they sure as hell recognised mine.
They all knew my father and proceeded to spend the better part of an hour reminding me of what a good man he was. Jack Melville, the oldest, most pompous-looking of them, did most of the talking. He spoke about my dad like he was he was his best friend, and for all I knew, he probably was. It struck me as odd, and I was beginning to wonder if we were all talking about the same man. They were recalling a man I simply never knew.
All I could do was smile and grit my teeth and test every ounce of self-control to not say anything. When I started to stab at the label on my beer, Travis seemed to realise I was close to snapping, and he slid his foot around the back of mine under the table.
No one could see it, no one could possibly know. And I don’t know if he did it to calm me or to reassure himself, but either way it worked.
Travis helped me say a final goodbye to that ghost six months ago, and I’d been trying to finally let the cold words of my father go. It was a work in progress—it would take longer than six months to get rid of a lifetime of guilt, I knew that, but after so many years, I was finally starting to let it go.
And then I came here and was reminded by everyone I met that I’ll never be rid of the ghost of my father. The man that was Charles Sutton Senior, the man who hurt his own son terribly, would forever be etched in my looks, his name, his home.
I still smiled and was polite and friendly, but I could feel the cold stab of disappointing my father every time someone said something like you’re the spittin’ image of your dad, or your father’d be proud, son and just how sorry they were to hear of his passing.
“So,” Greg said over the table, changing the subject. “Travis here is staying at Sutton Station.” He succeeded in turning the attention at the table to Travis. Then Greg recounted for them how the horse Travis was riding got spooked and threw him, and how he spent a night lost out in the summer desert with a busted knee. But in what was one of the smartest things Greg had seen, instead of trying to walk back to the homestead, Travis deliberately headed in the other direction. “A lot of other men would have died trying to go home, but you survived by following a change in soil colour.” He shook his head. “I ain’t heard nothing like it.”
Travis smiled, but I could tell he was a bit embarrassed, and he kind of gave the other men at the table a nod. “I’d seen the eastern ridgeline from the helicopter when we were mustering,” he explained. “There’s a yellow limestone that runs through it, and after I came off the horse, I could see the red dirt wasn’t so red. I remembered Charlie saying that ridge was the only shade for miles and I knew there was water farther up, but my leg was pretty torn up.” Then he added, “Plus, I knew Charlie’d come lookin’ for me, so I needed to buy myself some time.”
There were some wide eyes and disbelieving looks, and Travis just smiled and sipped his beer. But then the questions started about his accent and what in God’s name was he doing in the middle of the desert at Sutton Station. He explained his studies in agronomy and soil sciences and how he’d come for one month but knew not long after he’d got here that he’d be staying longer than that.
Of course, he didn’t say anything about me being the reason for that, and he never mentioned his visa trouble and the possibility of going home. Instead, Travis just said, “Red dirt, blue sky,” as an explanation for staying, and they all kind of nodded like they knew what that meant.
I guessed they did.
I offered to buy the next round of drinks and made my way to the bar. And that wasn’t much better. “Young Charlie Sutton?” some guy beside me asked before I could order. He looked more surprised than anything. “Jeez, look at you!”
“Well, I guess that’s me, but you’ll have to excuse me for not remembering…”
He smiled then and stuck out his hand. “Allan Stilton,” he introduced himself. He looked maybe forty-five, which was younger than most here. “Greg told me you might be coming. It’s good to see you.”
Well, I figured any friend of Greg’s was an okay sort of guy. “Nice to meet you.”
“Well, you look about as comfortable here as I feel,” he said.
I barked out a laugh. “Is it that obvious?”
He smiled, and we ordered our drinks in turn. “I manage Ardale Downs,” Allan said. “North of Greg’s place.”
“Ah.” I took a sip. “I’m west of him.”
Allan kind of smiled like I’d missed an inside joke. “I think there ain’t a person here tonight that doesn’t know who you are.”
I took a mouthful of beer. “I’m starting to get that impression, yeah.” Then I corrected, “Well, my father’s reputation and name precedes me.”
Allan smiled at that. “Don’t sell yourself short. From what I hear, you’re doing a better job.”
“Shhh,” I pretended to whisper. I gave a pointed nod to the table of old-time farmers, where Greg and Travis were still sitting. “Don’t let the eighth battalion from 1942 hear you say that.”
Allan laughed loudly. “Greg likes to stir them up.”
Greg must have heard Allan laugh, because he looked over. Seeing us two talking, he made excuses for himself and Travis and they joined us.
I handed Travis his beer while Greg made introductions. “So that conversation looked riveting,” I said lightly.
Travis scoffed. “I believe they have the collective opinion that agronomy is nonsense. There’s nothing they can’t learn from farmin’ that can be taught from a book.” Travis shrugged and sipped his beer. “Or so they said.”
Allan laughed. “It’s like the Wright brothers trying to tell NASA no thanks, that they know all there is to know about flying. The fundamentals are there, but times have changed.”
Travis and I both laughed at the analogy. “See?” Greg cried. “This is why we, us three”—he indicated to himself, Allan and me—“need to shake these guys up.”
Allan groaned and rolled his eyes. “Has he been buggin’ you about this too?”
I laughed. “Yep,” I said, looking around the room at the dozens of people, most of who were my father’s age. “Though I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting this many people. Seriously, I think I should be sitting at the kids’ table for dinner tonight.”
Greg smiled, but it was more of an aww-hell-kid kind of smile. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t belong here,” I said, though not to anyone in particular. It was just a general thinking-out-loud statement.
Greg looked at me seriously. “You belong here just as much as anyone else. All the big station names are here, yours included.”
“If one more person tells me they’re sorry to hear about my dad, I think I’ll—”
“Charles Sutton?” some older guy I probably should have recognised but didn’t interrupted.
“Yes, that’s me,” I said, waiting for it, waiting for it…
“Very sorry to hear about your father. He was a great man.”
I could almost feel my teeth crack, my jaw was clenched so tight, but I forced a smile. “Thanks.”
Greg dismissed the other guy politely enough, then pulled on my arm and led me, Travis and Allan around the corner of the bar. It was darker, more private. He ordered a round of bourbons for us all. “Sorry about that,” Greg said to me. “Guess you’re sick of hearing it.”
“I wasn’t exactly prepared for it from every person here, that’s all,” I admitted. “Nor the fact that most of ’em know who I am just by lookin’ but I haven’t got a clue who they are.”
“There’s quite a buzz that Charlie Sutton’s son is here,” Greg said, handing me a bourbon and dry. “Drink that. Won’t make them go away, but it will make you care less.”
I risked a glance at Travis, and I could see the worry in his eyes. He was keeping his hands busy with his drink, and I wondered how much self-control it took for him to not touch me. I could tell he wanted to, maybe as much as I wanted to feel it.
I sipped my bourbon instead. “Let me guess, though. My dad would have been at the table of old men, talkin’ about how good the eighties were.”
“Every meeting,” Greg said with a laugh. “He only missed one or two. I think some kid took a spill off an unbroken pony when he was ten and broke his wrist.”
I held out my right arm, the one I broke. “And two ribs,” I amended. “And I was twelve.” Greg and Allan laughed, and Travis shook his head. Then I added, “It was the day before he was supposed to leave. I remember that much because he yelled at me for a week about missing it.”
Everyone was called to be seated as dinner would soon be served. I was kinda glad, because two beers and a bourbon on an empty stomach was starting to make my head spin. We sat at a table with Greg, Jenny and Allan and ate our meals. Afterward, there were a few formalities to go through, a few boring speeches and one product sponsorship spiel. We even had our photos taken, but all in all it wasn’t too bad.
After that, we moved back to the bar and traded stories of last week’s muster, which led to talk of farming and soil. Travis and Greg were debating the pros and cons of fertilisers and acidification, when I noticed a small crowd near the doors to our left watching us.
And then I saw who it was.
It was Fisher, the same guy who used to work for me, who helped find Travis in the desert and saw the love bites all over my chest when I’d taken my shirt off to secure a splint to Travis’s leg. The same guy who called me a faggot and a queer.
That Fisher.
He had a too-much-rum kind of lean and a sneer on his face, looking at me. This wasn’t going to end well. He had a grudge to bear, a secret to tell and nothing to lose.
I could see him talkin’ but couldn’t make out the words. The way the others around him looked over at me left little doubt to what he was saying. “Oh Jesus,” I whispered, turning toward Travis and Greg, turning my back to Fisher.
“What’s up?” Travis said.
“Remember Fisher?” I asked quietly. “Used to work for me? The one George punched off the veranda when… you busted your knee?”
I didn’t have to elaborate. Travis knew exactly who I was talking about. “Yeah.”
“Well, he’s here.”
Travis looked over my shoulder, and I could tell the moment he saw Fisher. His eyes hardened. “What does he want?”
“I can have a guess,” I said.
Greg frowned. “Everything all right?”
“Just a disgruntled ex-employee,” I said, trying to make light of it, when the truth was it made me feel sick to my stomach.
Greg saw who we were talking about. “Ah. Well, he shouldn’t be in here. You can have him kicked out if you want?”
I shook it off. “Nah, I’m sure he’ll go soon enough.”
He did go, but not before he got talkin’ to some older guys I didn’t know, and from the way they all looked over at me, once again, I didn’t have to wonder about his subject choice.
“You know what?” I said. “I think I might call it a night.”
“Charlie,” Greg said softly. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks.”
He was saying he knew. I had assumed he did, but sure as hell wasn’t gonna bring it up. Greg knew, and he didn’t care. He had continued treating me like he always had. He was never any different. Greg shook his head. “No one here will listen to a word he says anyway.”
If only that were true.
Because Fisher’s rumour of Charlie-Sutton’s-a-fag spread pretty quickly. Whether they believed it or not didn’t matter.
It was my worst fear coming true, whispered around the auditorium, one rumour at a time. I could tell by the leaned-in whispers and wide-eyed stares. Some tried to hide their conversations, some didn’t. Hell, some even made it a point of open discussion.
Like the table of old men, who called me over.
I should have left. I should have just walked out and gone back to Sutton Station and minded my own business for the rest of my life.
But I didn’t. I went over to the table and the ringleader of the group, or maybe just the most self-righteous, Jack Melville, gave me a smile I didn’t like. “You should know, Charlie, that Jason Fisher is telling unholy lies. You might want to clear a few things up.”
“Well, Mr Melville, if you’ll beg my pardon, but I don’t care what that man says,” I said as politely as I could manage. “His employment was terminated at Sutton Station, and if he has a grudge to bear, the weight is his alone.”
That answer seemed to be to their liking, because they all smiled. Mr Melville nodded slowly, approvingly. “I like you, son. I can see much of your father in you.”
I laughed, because he had no clue just how wrong he was.
But then one of them said, “See? Told you all it wasn’t true. No nancy boy could run a station like that. I’ve seen the sales figures from across the state. Sutton’s are quite impressive.”
I clenched my teeth. “Nancy boy?”
He seemed embarrassed to have to have to explain. “You know,” he said, making a face. “A poofter.”
I started counting to ten in my head and only got to four when someone else said, “Don’t be silly, Jim. There ain’t no men out here like that. They’re all in the cities where they should be.”
Those were the words of my father. It was like he was saying them. I could hear them in his voice; I could see the anger in his jaw and the disappointment in his eyes.
Jack said something that sounded like sodomy and disgusting and queer. He said they’d never have any staff member who did that because they were manly men, and then the whole table laughed because it was funny, but I couldn’t really hear because the blood was pounding in my temples.
Travis pulled on my arm. “Come on, Charlie,” he whispered.
I shook Travis’s hand from my arm and stayed put. “Wow,” I said, running my hand through my hair. “And here I was thinking my father came to these meetings to talk business, not gossip and giggle like a Country Women’s Association meeting. Actually, I bet those women talk more on the issues of farming than you lot. I could probably have a more productive conversation with them.”
That shut them up. Each and every one of them had their stunned-mullet faces on. I didn’t fucking care. I didn’t care if they were my father’s friends, I didn’t care if they thought I was a smear on the Charles Sutton reputation. I was Charles Sutton, not my old man, not even who he wanted me to be.
I was me. I worked just as hard as him, ran a better station than he ever did. I understood more about the land we worked, I had higher profit margins in a tougher economic climate than he ever did. I was better at it all.
And I was fucking gay.
And in that split-second life-defining moment, I could see the difference in myself. From seven months ago to now, I was a different man. And I was proud of who Travis had helped me become.
“You know what?” I asked the table of gob-smacked, you-can’t-talk-to-us-that-way men. “I am a fucking nancy boy. And I can still run a better farm than any of you.” Not one of them could argue, because they saw the stock sales; they knew it was true. “I came to this meeting because I thought we were here to discuss diversification and sustainability of one of the harshest environments on earth. But if you wanna sit here like a bunch of old women and talk about sex lives, then I’m all for it,” I said, lifting my chin, looking at Jack Melville. I sneered at him. “Let’s start with yours. You married? You been married for what? Forty years? You still enjoy a good old romp in the bedroom? I bet you’re a missionary man, never done it in the shower? In the hall? On the kitchen table? Doggy style?”
The man’s face went an immediate high-blood-pressure red. “You have no right—”
“And you’ve no right to talk about anyone else!” I snapped back at him. I had quite the audience now, pretty much everyone in the auditorium was staring at me. So I addressed them too. “Now if anyone here is interested in filtration properties and water cultivation, high salt content and water tables or beef stock ratios—if you want to network and make our industry stronger—then I’m all ears. But if anyone else here thinks it’s their business to discuss my sex life or that of my staff”—I looked back at Jack Melville—“I don’t care how old you are, I will knock you off your fucking chair.”
I figured then was a pretty good time to leave. I made my way through the stunned-into-silence crowd and down the stairs, but had only got to the lobby when Travis caught up to me. “Charlie, wait!”
I turned to face him, because, well, because it was Travis. He looked shocked, to say the very least. “Charlie, that was… um…”
“You know what?” I asked, throwing my hands up. “I’m not even sorry.”
He scrubbed his hand over his face and looked back up the stairs, then at me. “Don’t ever apologise for that.”
Greg came down the stairs, into the foyer and stopped when he saw us there. He grinned the biggest fucking grin I’d ever seen him wear. “You okay, man?” he asked. “Because that was incredible! Do you know how long I’ve wanted to tell that sonofabitch what I thought of him? And you just nailed it.” He shook his head. “Nailed. It.”
I took a deep breath and tried to calm the fuck down. It didn’t work. I think I growled. “No wonder my father sat at that table. I ain’t surprised one bit.”
“They’re a bunch of whingin’ old bastards,” Greg said. “They’d complain of the sky being blue if you listened too long. They’ve never liked me because I insisted Jenny sit in on the local meetings. They reckon it wasn’t her place. But I tell ya, she works just as fucking hard as I do while schoolin’ our kids at the same time. They had no right to say her opinion wasn’t as valid as mine. I told ’em that,” he said, “just not as spectacularly as you just did.”
“Yeah, well, fuck them,” I said.
Greg laughed. “Now you see why I wanna get rid of them?”
Maybe I was still too mad, and maybe I wasn’t thinking entirely clear-headed. “I’ll do it,” I told him. “Nominate me for the Board. It’ll be my pleasure to piss them off every chance I get.”
Travis shook his head, but at least he was smiling. He told Greg, “I hope you’re good with stubborn.”
Greg laughed. “It’s my favourite kind.”
And then, because the night couldn’t possibly get any worse, who should walk out into the foyer? None other than Fisher and a few of his deadbeat friends.
His eyes widened, as did his sneer. He laughed obnoxiously and came toward us, stumbling drunk. “Well, look who it is,” he slurred loudly, then took a mouthful from his Bundy rum can.
“Fisher,” I acknowledged him. “How’s unemployment treating you?”
He laughed, though it wasn’t a happy sound. Then he spotted Travis. “And look who’s with him. S’prise, s’prise.” He laughed again, lookin’ at me. “You brought your boyfriend along.”
There was dead silence. Everyone in main area of the club would have heard what he said. As if I didn’t have enough adrenalin running through my veins. I closed my fists and took a step toward him. I was in the mood to punch the shit of something. Travis put the drink he was still holding down on the reception desk and stood beside me, but it was Greg who spoke. “I think you’ve had enough, Fisher.”
“What?” he said with a laugh. “Didn’t he tell ya? Sutton’s a queer, and the Yank’s his fudge-packin’ boyfriend.”
I don’t really remember what happened after that. I remember grabbin’ him by the throat, and I remember the blood poundin’ in my ears. That fucker could say what he wanted about me, but there was no way I was lettin’ him talk about Travis like that.
I pushed him outside and he swung at me, collecting me in the corner of my eye. He was too drunk for it hurt me, but I was hardly gonna let him have another chance. I closed my fist and punched him right in his good-for-nothin’ fucking mouth. He fell backward to the ground and I got in a few more punches before I got pulled away.
It was Travis. He grabbed me by the arms and dragged me off Fisher, and then some security guys were there, keeping a distance between me and him. Greg told them that Fisher had been an unwanted guest upstairs at the function, causing trouble. They told Greg it wasn’t the first time Fish had been involved with fighting, and then they told Fisher his trouble wasn’t worth his business. He wasn’t welcome back.
Fisher’s face was bloodied, his nose smashed, and he was missing two of his teeth. I snorted out a laugh. “Nice dental work. And there I thought you had nothing to lose.”
“Fuck you,” he spat as he was escorted away.
“Not even if you were the last man on the planet,” I yelled after him.
Greg roared laughing and clapped me on the shoulder. “You are too much fun.” Then, still chuckling, he told Travis, “Get him home, and get some ice on that eye.” Before he got to the door, he turned and said, “Good luck tomorrow. Remember what I said.”
Ugh. Tomorrow.
I didn’t want to think about tomorrow.
“Come on, Rocky,” Travis said. “Let’s go.” We got into a taxi, and Travis didn’t speak the whole way to the hotel. My behaviour hadn’t been great, and by the time we got into our room, I was fairly sure Travis didn’t like the side of me he’d seen tonight.
I wasn’t a violent person by nature. I could count the punch-ups I’d had in my whole life on one hand. But maybe a fist-throwin’ boyfriend wasn’t on his toleratin’ list. I sat on the bed and fell back onto the mattress and dug the heels of my hands into my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I don’t know what got into me tonight. I ain’t got no excuse for fighting. I’m sorry, Trav.”
I felt the bed dip, and gentle fingers pulled my hand away from my face. Something cold pressed against my already-swelling eye. I opened my eyes to see Travis holding a can of lemonade against the side of my face. “We had no peas.” His smile faded just a fraction. “And don’t apologise. If you didn’t punch him, I was gonna. But I’m pretty sure you did a better job of it than what I could have.”
“I couldn’t let him talk about you that way,” I told him. “But I was pissed off before he even opened his mouth. I should have walked away.”
Travis leaned in and gently pressed his lips to mine. “Tonight was a mixed bag of everything, wasn’t it?” He studied me for a while, like he was searching for the right words. “Your dad was mentioned a lot tonight…”
I nodded. “I wasn’t expecting that,” I whispered.
Trav moved the cold can against my eye. It felt good against the heat of the swelling. “It must have been hard to hear that,” he said. “It was hard for me to hear it—I can only imagine what it was like for you.”
I tried to smile for him, and taking a deep breath, I tried the whole talking thing we’d been working on. “At first it was like they were talking about a man I didn’t know, and I dunno—” I shrugged. “—maybe they were. They were telling me how great he was, what a good man he was. I started to wonder if I knew him at all…”
“They knew the farmer,” Travis stated. “Not the father. There’s a huge difference.”
I nodded. “Exactly. I mean, he worked hard, I know that. And he was a good farmer. I never said he wasn’t. But I saw him through their eyes tonight, and I wondered if my view of him was from a confused and lonely kid, ya know?”
Then Travis did the best thing ever. He just listened.
“And I felt guilty for not seeing that sooner, and you know, maybe he was just doing the best he knew how. But then that Jack Melville and all those other old guys started talking about how disgusting poofters were, and you know what?” I asked rhetorically. “I realised I didn’t misunderstand anything. Because if my father were alive and sitting at that table, he would have laughed with the others. He’d have rather seen me hurt than his reputation. What they said tonight wasn’t anything I haven’t heard before from him. He said those words. All of them.
“And then I got mad, because I shouldn’t have felt guilty. I did nothing wrong.”
“No, you didn’t,” he agreed quietly.
“I guess I said those things kinda wishin’ I’d said them to my dad.”
Travis smiled. “I wish he could have heard them, especially the part where you asked Melville if he still banged his wife on the kitchen table.”
I laughed then. “I said that, didn’t I?”
“You sure did,” Trav said with a chuckle. He sighed and studied my eyes again. “Then you basically told them all you were gay and they could all fuck off.”
I snorted out an oh-fuck-what-have-I-done kind of sigh.
“And you told Greg to nominate you for the Board of Directors,” Travis reminded me, “so you could piss those old farts off every chance you got.”
“I said that too, didn’t I?”
Travis leaned in and kissed me again. “You were kind of awesome tonight.”
“I was a whole lot of stupid.”
Travis smiled and moved the can of lemonade, turning it so the still-cold part pressed against my eye. “Your eye’s gonna be a pretty shade of black tomorrow.”
Ugh. Tomorrow. I still didn’t want to think about tomorrow. “Oh, man. I totally forgot! You were gonna talk to Greg about that agronomy services thing.” Now I felt even worse. “I fucked that up too.”
“No you didn’t,” he said. “I spoke to Greg. He said it was fine.”
I sighed, long and loud. “Remind me to send him a case of beer or something.”
“It’s been a pretty monumental night for you,” Trav said. “Charlie, you kinda came out tonight to every farmer in the Territory.”
“I did, didn’t I.”
“How do you feel?”
“I have no clue,” I answered. I searched for the dread and the fear of realising my worst nightmares, but I couldn’t find any. “Actually I feel okay. Tomorrow might be different though. When it’s sunk in, I mean.”
“Tomorrow,” he said. “We have enough to worry about tomorrow.”
My head was swimming, my eye hurt a bit and so did my knuckles. I pulled the can of lemonade off my eye and took Travis’s chin between my thumb and fingers of my not-sore hand, pulling him in for a soft kiss. “Everything will go fine tomorrow,” I whispered.
He nodded. “It has to.”
I fell asleep not sure which of us was trying to convince the other anymore.
* * * *
The office where we had to go for the meeting was in the centre of town. It was a typical government office, and I felt out of my depth as soon as I walked through the door. The waiting time was bad, lots of sitting around in silence and there wasn’t any doubt in my mind why they had no clocks in waiting rooms. I think it would have driven me mad.
A lady came to the door. She was maybe midtwenties, of Aboriginal heritage and dressed like a lawyer. She had long black hair and pretty eyes. She smiled at us. “Travis Craig?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” Travis stood up, and I’d have probably done the same, but my body wouldn’t seem to move.
“I’m Nerida Martin. We spoke on the phone.” She smiled and showed her hand toward a door. Trav took off his hat, and with uncertain steps, he walked inside.
And if I thought the waiting with him was bad, the waiting without him was just downright insufferable.
I was just about to start pacing when the door we’d come through opened and some familiar faces came in.
Ma first, all dressed up nice and pretty, with George behind her, and then Billy.
I found myself standing, shocked to see them, and so fucking relieved. “What are you guys doing here?”
“We came to support Travis,” Ma said. Then she noticed my eye. She put her hand to my face. “Charlie! What happened?”
“We ran into Fisher last night,” I said, automatically touching my eye. Ma gasped and George growled. Billy’s eyes narrowed. I gave them a bit of a smile. “You should see him, though.”
There was head shaking and quiet cussing, but eventually George asked, “Where’s Travis?”
I nodded toward the door. “In there.”
“How long’s he been in there for?” Ma asked.
“Only about five minutes.” Then something occurred to me. “Um, who’s at home?”
“Trudy, Bacon and Ernie,” George answered.
I couldn’t hide my surprise. “I thought they were headed across the country.” I shook my head. “I didn’t expect ’em to give up their holidays for me.”
Ma gave me one of her warm-smile-specials. “They all wanted to be here,” she said. “But someone had to stay.”
Just then, the door behind me opened and I turned to see Nerida go to say something but stop when she saw the four of us waiting. “Charles Sutton?”
“Yes,” I said, but my voice was all croaky. I tried again. “Yes, that’s me.”
“Oh.” She seemed surprised by something. “Have you got a minute?”
I have my whole life, I thought. She held the door open and I walked through, taking a seat next to Travis.
“A bit of a waiting party out there, I see?” Nerida said. She was smiling and seemed pleasant enough.
I wasn’t sure how to explain what the people in the waiting room were to me. They were my employees, but they were so much more than that. “They’re my folks.”
Travis gave me a questioning look. “Ma, George and Billy are here.”
He looked genuinely shocked and a whole lot touched. “What for?”
“Said they wanted to come and show support,” I said quietly. Travis looked back toward the door and smiled.
“Right,” Nerida said, taking control of the interview. “Mr Sutton? You’re the sole proprietor of Sutton Station? Travis’s employer?”
“Yes, that’s correct.” I knew what she was thinking. I was too young. “My father passed away two and a half years ago.”
“And Travis has worked for you in fulltime employment for the last seven months?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Were you aware that all temporary visa holders are not supposed to be at any one permanent employment for more than six months?”
I shook my head and looked at Travis. “No. I didn’t know that.”
She nodded, but just moved on. “And Mr Craig originally came to Australia for what was supposed to be a four-week period, to work and learn about the local farming.”
“Yes.”
She tilted her head. “He stayed longer because…”
Because he wanted to. Because he was too damn stubborn to get on the plane. “He felt his work wasn’t done. He had more to learn.” I looked at Travis and kind of shrugged. Jesus, I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware I was being interviewed today.” I tried to comb my hair a bit with my fingers. I smiled nervously at her, which hurt my swollen eye. “Ignore the eye makeup,” I joked, pointing to my eye. “Musterin’ cattle last week and a Brahman wasn’t too happy about it.” It was a blatant lie, but an explanation for the bruise. It wasn’t like I could hardly tell her the truth. “So, what can I help with?”
Nerida gave a tight smile, but didn’t really offer any explanation to my question. “Mr Craig is here on a temporary work visa,” she said. “There was a specific non-secondary term clause, which means it can’t be extended. He’s already breached one condition.”
What? “What?”
Nerida tapped her pen on the desk, going over what must have been Travis’s file. “The first temporary visa was extended after the first four weeks. It can’t be extended for a second term.”
I’m pretty sure I could feel every drop of blood drain from my face. I looked at Travis, who was now staring at Nerida.
“What about the subclass 887?” I asked. “A skilled regional worker. He fits into that category. If he’s lived in a regional area of Australia and worked fulltime, then he qualifies, yes?” I looked from her to Travis and back to her. “An agricultural consultant is on the skilled occupation list on the immigration website.”
She looked surprised that I knew what I was talking about. But she wasn’t smiling. “Agronomy isn’t an isolated skill in this area.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means there are other agronomists. Local people,” Travis said. His voice sounded so distant.
“I don’t want anyone else working on my farm,” I said. “Sure, I can hire some academic from the college here, but they’d just be some scientist, not a station hand. Travis can do both. And that’s something that I can’t get anywhere else.” She looked so indifferent, and I wondered how someone so young and pretty could be that way. Maybe she was good at her job, but she had no idea what it was like on a working farm. “Do you know what it’s like to find staff?” I asked, rhetorically, because she obviously had no fucking clue. “We’re three hours out of town. Three hours from a shop, a cafe, a doctor. Do you know how hard it is to get and keep good staff when we’re that isolated?”
“Have you sought the local employment offices here?” she asked. “There’s always lists of people who are capable.”
“Capable, maybe. Willing, no. We work twelve-fourteen hour days, week in, week out. They last two weeks,” I told her. “We’re too isolated. But Travis loves it.”
She turned her attention to Travis. “Mr Sutton mentioned consulting.”
“I have consulted with another station, Burrunyarrip. It’s situated over the Queensland border. Not as big as Sutton Station, but still twice the size of anything the States has. Greg Pietersen is the owner, and I’ve had a few meetings with him,” Travis said. None of it was technically a lie. It just wasn’t a whole truth. Greg had told Travis last night to use him as a reference for his agronomic expertise and he’d happily tell some government official, who never stepped a foot outside city limits, what it took to make it out here. “I was at the Northern Territory Beef Farmers Association meeting just last night.”
“And you’ve done consulting work with them?”
“I’m lining it up,” Trav answered. “I spoke with a lot of different people who were interested, I just couldn’t confirm dates… you know… because of this.” He waved his hand a little toward the file on the desk.
“Well, I will need a number for the Mr Greg Pietersen you mentioned,” she said.
“I have his number in my phone,” I said, pulling out my mobile. I scrolled through my contacts and slid the phone onto the desk so she could write down the number.
While she was writing it down, I said, “I’m not sure how these things work. I didn’t think it was such a big deal, to be honest. I mean, people move to this country all the time. And you can’t tell me they all work. And they certainly don’t work sunup ’til sundown in the Outback summer or sleep outside on the ground in the middle of winter, mustering cattle, I can tell you that much.”
“Their applications must be for permanent visas?” Travis offered quietly.
“Well, why can’t you apply for one of those?” I asked him, then turned to Nerida and asked her the same. “Why can’t he apply for one of those?”
“It’s not that easy,” Nerida said. “The Australian government takes immigration very seriously.”
“I get that,” I agreed. “And so it should. But if he fits the criteria, if he ticks all the boxes, then it should be okay, yeah?” I looked at Travis, and it stopped me. I’d never seen him so utterly uncertain. He looked beaten already.
“It’s the government’s point of view that Mr Craig’s skills are not unique to this area.”
This interview wasn’t going how it was supposed to go. I could feel blood thumping in my ears. She was saying no. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. I was starting to feel all tight in the chest, like I couldn’t breathe or something, and the sick feeling in my stomach tasted a lot like anger and desperation.
“The government’s point of view?” I asked, not even trying to keep the bite from my bark. “Is that how to you displace blame? No responsibility, no care, it’s not personal, that kind of thing. Do you they teach you how to remove yourself from personal liability? Tell me, are there classes for that?”
“Charlie,” Travis warned quietly.
“No. No, Trav,” I said. “This was supposed to be easy. You were gonna come in here and just fix up some paperwork, and that’d be it. It was supposed to be easy.”
“Mr Sutton,” Nerida said calmly. “Thank you for your time this afternoon.”
I was being dismissed, and not only that, but I’d probably just screwed any chance Travis had. It was all going wrong. I answered every question wrong, and she was going to say no. They were going to make Travis leave. In one week, he’d be boarding a plane back to the States, taking my heart with him. My eyes burned and I shook my head. My voice was just a whisper. “Please don’t do this.”
Nerida stared at me, and I could feel Travis’s eyes burning into the side of my head. I didn’t dare look at him. All I could do was shake my head and ignore the stupid burning in my eyes and chest. And maybe it was the emotions of the past weekend or maybe it was the sinking realisation that they were really making Travis leave, but I had to say something. “I love him.”
Travis gasped beside me and Nerida’s eyes widened, just a fraction, before she composed herself. “Mr Sutton—” she said.
I shook my head again. “Do you know what the odds are that I would ever find someone? I live and work in the middle of the desert, and he gets on a plane from the other side of the planet and arrives at my doorstep.” I took a shaky breath. “The most perfect guy, and for some reason I will never understand, he chose me. I’ll tell you what the odds are.” I raised my pointer finger. “One. One chance in a lifetime. That’s all I get.”
“Charlie,” Travis whispered beside me.
I turned to face him then and fought back tears. “I can’t do this without you.”
His face fell and his lip trembled. “Yes, you will,” he murmured.
“It will kill me,” I told him, trying not to cry. “If you get on that plane, a part of me will die.”
“Mr Sutton, Mr Craig,” Nerida said. I’d almost forgotten she was there.
I stood up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I ruined everything. I’m sorry. I should go.”
Travis stood up and took my hand so I couldn’t leave. “You didn’t ruin anything.”
I looked at the woman behind the desk. She looked sad, but also like she’d heard it all a hundred times before. I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself. “Think of me what you like. I guess it doesn’t matter. But it’s not about me, and it’s not about the government hatin’ on gay people. If you take into account anything I say, let it be this: Travis is one of the hardest workers I’ve known. He understands the land like he was born and raised here. He understands the desert, and he doesn’t just love it, he respects it. Do you know how rare that is?” I looked at Travis. “He deserves to be here. He’s earned it.”
Travis was looking at me with a whole lot of sadness and thank you in his eyes. I pulled my hand from his. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said softly.
I walked out of the room. Ma was quick to her feet, but she stopped when she saw my face. I needed to leave. I needed to walk outside and get some air. “I’ll be outside,” I said to no one in particular and kept on walking until there was sunlight on my face.
“Charlie,” Ma called out behind me.
I turned to her. “I fucked it up, Ma.” I ran my hands through my hair and looked around. We were out front of the local council building. There were cars in the street and people walking past, and I didn’t care. “I shoulda stopped talking. Why the hell did they wanna speak to me anyway?”
She put her hands on my arms and face. “Oh, love.”
I blinked back stupid fucking tears again. “I can’t believe I did that.”
Ma’s eyes were all sad. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
“I told her that I loved him, Ma, and that if he leaves it’ll kill me,” I admitted. I leaned against a handrail and put my head in my hands. “I totally just blew it for him.”
“Well,” she compromised, “sometimes the truth is best.”
“And sometimes the truth will get you kicked out for sure when the government don’t like hearing about a bunch of gays, Ma.” I’d gone from upset to pissed off, and I guess Ma knew me well enough to give me silence. She leaned against the handrail with me and never said a word.
Eventually George walked out to meet us. “Travis and Billy are coming out now.”
I exhaled through puffed-out cheeks. I had no idea what to say to Travis and doubted I’d even be able to look him in the eye again. I didn’t have to. He walked outside with Billy. He looked okay, not too upset, but I looked away when he got closer. He didn’t even hesitate. While I was workin’ on how best to say sorry, he just walked right up to me, and in front of everyone, for all the world to see, he threw his arms around me.
And I didn’t mind one bit.
“That was the best thing you’ve ever said,” he said. He pulled back, and he was a mix of grinning and wonder. He looked to the others. “Oh my God, you should have heard what he said.”
“What I said?” I repeated. “Travis, I was so out of line. I bet you anything you like she’s in there now stamping a big fat red ‘denied’ on everything she can lay her hands on.”
Travis surprised me by smiling. “Maybe she is.” He shook his head and looked right at Ma. “It was the most romantic thing ever.”
I groaned, and we started to walk toward the car park. “What else did she say?”
“Not much. We just talked some more, she asked a few more questions. Then she said she’d have an answer for us in twenty-four hours.”
Twenty-four hours. Jesus, we were now countin’ down hours.
Then Travis said, “Then Billy spoke to her, but I couldn’t really follow what they were saying…”
Billy? We all stopped walking and turned to look at Billy, and he just grinned his half-a-face grin. His unruly curly hair was stickin’ up all over the place, and his eyes smiled against his dark skin. “We talk in the language of the Eastern Arrernte people, my people. I tell her that Travis is a good fella. I told her that my cousin Nara was in a bad place, but she is now safe at Sutton Station, and how Travis show her how to make garden and teach her like our people, how to be good to the land.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I had to swallow so I could speak. “You told her that?” I asked.
“’Course I did,” Billy said. “Told her too, that you a good fella, Mr Sutton. A kake to me and my people.”
Oh.
He just called me brother.
And again with the tears. Fucking hell, I was an emotional ball of crazy. I couldn’t even speak. Billy laughed and clapped his hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”
I laughed, wiped away my tears and shook off my embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Travis put his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me against him, just for a second, before letting me go. He looked to Ma and George, who were both smiling at me. “Have you guys had lunch? I’m starving.”
“We did eat, yes,” Ma said. “But you should go get something.”
Travis hugged Ma, and then, surprising George, he hugged him too. “Thank you so much for coming in. It really means a lot.” Then he looked at Billy and held out his hand. Billy grinned at him and they did some weird handshake thing. “Thank you, Billy. I thought I was happy to see you when you found me in the desert that day I came off Shelby, but it was real good to see you here today.”
Billy just grinned and looked at the passing cars in the street. “We go home now. Too many people here for me.”
They left me and Travis standing on the footpath, just kind of looking at each other. “Are you okay?” he asked.
I swallowed. “I will be. In twenty-four hours,” I said. “When we get that phone call to say it’s all good, then I will be just fine.” He smiled and took a deep breath. “Are you okay?” I asked him.
“I will be, in twenty-four hours,” he said with a smile. “But right now, I need food.”
“What do you want?”
“Pizza.”
I rolled my eyes. “I shouldn’t have even bothered asking.”
He grinned and started walking to the ute. “Nope, you shouldn’t have.”