‘Seems everyone has a bit of attitude today,’ Matt commented as he drove down towards the cattle yards. The new loading ramp had arrived yesterday and not before time. The previous one had seen thousands of head through it and been in need of an upgrade. The timber structure was so old that recently a charging steer managed to crash though one of the railings and one of the forcing gates that could be slid behind beasts to stop them backing up had broken off its hinges. Matt drove past the yards, admiring the shiny new metal. A good loading ramp was vital. It allowed the ease of movement of cattle in and out of the large road trains that transported them to market and also to various parts of the property when the distance to be covered was too far to walk.
Matt scratched his head, wondering what he’d really signed himself up for when he’d accepted this job. It sure wasn’t quite what he’d imagined. Whisky wangled himself across the seat of the Landcruiser, nuzzled in the crook of his arm.
‘Righto, mate. We’re off.’ Despite the situation Matt couldn’t stop a smile edging at the corner of his mouth. In a couple of days Edward Truss was due out to inspect some sale steers and tomorrow Jack and one of the contractors were helping to bring in the lambs. Matt wanted them drafted up and moved to a different oat paddock a good six weeks before they were to be sold. This time round he didn’t need to have a kitchen table conference about the proposed lamb sale or wait down at the yards until the ram buyer finished his cup of tea at the homestead. Reporting to a couple of young ones almost half his age and taking orders from Anthony remained a daily pain in the arse. Things would be a whole heap easier if Sarah was in charge.
It was true he’d had thoughts of easing his way out of the whole shooting match, as his dad used to like calling avoidable disasters, but well, that day on the verandah pretty much sealed him up as neatly as a brown paper parcel and string. The old fella, Angus, had him by the balls to the extent, Matt mused, that he couldn’t even scratch one. All he could do was keep his mouth shut and see what happened next and wait for the payout at the end of the day. He drove slowly back to West Wangallon and was contemplating whether he had time to put a frozen pie in the oven for lunch when he saw he had company.
Tania Weil was sitting on the bonnet of her white sedan. Matt reckoned a good four years must lay between now and the last time he saw her. It was the day he resigned from the spread up north.
‘Last time I saw you, my paperback westerns were scattered across the lawn.’
Tania smiled and slipped off the car bonnet. A spray-on pair of white jeans, black T-shirt and white cap emphasised the weight she’d lost. Even her hair was different. It was still the same dull brown, although the curls and length were gone. Short and straight suited her angular features.
Matt walked towards her, avoiding a kiss by holding out his hand. ‘How did you find me?’
Tania laughed and, ignoring his hand, managed to kiss his weathered cheek. She rubbed at the smudge of beige lipstick with a glossy white thumbnail. ‘Once a month you’re in the rural papers, Matt. Buying or selling stock, hanging with your pretty boss or socialising after a sale.’ Tania glanced around at the breadth of lightly timbered country, then back at West Wangallon Homestead. ‘You certainly managed to fall on your feet.’
‘Didn’t know I hadn’t been standing upright.’
Tania looked pointedly at his hand. ‘You know what I mean. How is it?’
Matt held both hands up as if examining a sale item that he didn’t want. ‘Buggered.’
‘You miss me?’
Matt looked her up and down. He had to admit Tania was looking pretty damn good. ‘Nope.’
‘Sure you did. Invite me in, Matt. You can make me some lunch and tell me if it’s true that the Gordons are going to lose some of their land thanks to a father that couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.’
Despite a bad sense of deja vu, Matt led the way down the cement path.
Claire walked her horse carefully across the paddock, her gloved hands loose on the reins. The