Trust Me (46 page)

Dulcie nodded. She had been in a state of permanent wanting for months now. She wanted to be held in Ross’s arms, kissed properly like people did on films, she wanted to know what he was thinking and what he felt for her. But she couldn’t say that to Betty.

‘He’s just so difficult and moody sometimes,’ she blurted out. ‘Every time I think he’s about to open up to me, he suddenly clams up.’

‘Does he ever…’ Betty paused. ‘You know, try it on?’

Dulcie was equally embarrassed. She shook her head.

Betty looked relieved. ‘Well, he must think you are special. John took him up to Kalgoorlie once before you came here, he told me Ross was like a mad thing with a girl he met up there.’

Dulcie smarted. ‘I didn’t know he’d had any other girlfriends,’ she said.

Betty winced. ‘She wasn’t a girlfriend, just a girl in a pub. You know what I mean.’

Dulcie realized that was Betty’s polite way of saying the girl was a whore.

‘Anyway,’ Betty went on, ‘men behave differently with nice girls. Like I told you before, they’re the ones they want to marry.’

Dulcie wasn’t convinced that it was normal for a man to take a girl out for over a year and never attempt to do anything more than give her the most chaste of goodnight kisses. In the magazines she read girls were always complaining that their boyfriends spent every minute of a date trying to lure them into sex. But she couldn’t say any of that to Betty.

Over supper that evening Dulcie was still thinking about what Betty had said earlier, and she found herself only half listening to the conversation around the table, and watching Ross. She liked the boyish way he looked, his unruly dark auburn curls, the freckles across his nose, and his shy, lopsided smile. Yet it was more than his appearance which fascinated her, for he had a curious blend of almost bombastic confidence in some areas, yet chronic timidity in others. Bruce often remarked on his remarkable gentleness and patience with animals, whilst John complained of his explosive temper. He had great physical strength and stamina, working tirelessly without complaint, yet sometimes he was incredibly stubborn, refusing to budge an inch when a principle was at stake.

The conversation was all centred on the cows. In the last week fifteen calves had been born, and eight more were expected in the next day or so. Two days earlier Bruce had been forced to do an emergency Caesarean section on one of them. Although he had assisted a vet with the same operation many times before, this time he couldn’t get hold of him, so he was forced to tackle it himself or he would have lost both mother and calf. Fortunately he was successful, a fine, healthy little heifer was delivered, the cow was stitched up again and now she was recovering.

‘Put her and the calf back in the paddock with the others tomorrow, Ross,’ Bruce said. ‘I’ll need that pen free.’

‘Leave her another day, boss,’ Ross said. ‘She’s not right yet.’

Although Dulcie had only been half listening up until then, she felt a sudden charge in the atmosphere. John and Bob looked at Ross in surprise. Bruce was staring at him as if unable to believe what he’d just heard.

Dulcie knew Bruce was very experienced with cattle, but even if he hadn’t been it wasn’t done for the youngest hand to challenge any instruction given by the owner. Ross coloured up when he saw the expressions on everyone’s faces.

‘I was with her just now,’ he said quickly. ‘I tell you, she’s not right.’

‘Bit cocky, aren’t you?’ John said in a sharp tone.

Ross merely shrugged, but his belligerent expression showed he had no intention of backing down.

Dulcie suddenly felt anxious. Bruce was a very amiable man. He never threw his weight around, and allowed his men to use their initiative. But even so she sensed Ross had really annoyed him. ‘Since when did you know better than me? You’ll do as I said,’ he growled at him. ‘Put her in the paddock tomorrow.’

‘No. She’s not up to it.’

Utter silence descended in the room, not the scrape of a knife and fork or the faintest sound of chewing. All eyes were on Bruce, like they were waiting for a firework to go off.

‘Do it tomorrow morning or get off my property,’ Bruce said, and even though he hadn’t raised his voice it had an icy quality.

Dulcie held her breath, willing Ross to apologize – even an ‘Okay, boss’ would have done. But he just sat there, staring woodenly at his half-eaten dinner.

No one spoke again and as Bob and John finished their meal and got up to leave, Ross hurried out with them. Seconds later Dulcie heard the sound of his motorbike starting up.

Bruce got up from the table and flopped down in an armchair. It was quite clear he was very rattled, and perhaps tonight’s incident wasn’t the only one on his mind, for Ross was often very cocky. Dulcie hastily stacked the dishes on to a tray and was out into the kitchen to start the washing up in seconds. Betty brought a couple of things through in her hands, and although she didn’t speak, she made a face and rolled her eyes back to the living-room as if to say she ought to get back there with her husband and try to calm him down.

‘Cocky little bastard!’ Bruce roared out a few seconds later. ‘I should have knocked him off his seat.’

Dulcie winced. Back at the Masters’ place she heard so many angry remarks bandied around that she barely noticed them after a time. But she’d never seen Bruce angry before and it scared her.

‘Now now, Brucey,’ Betty said soothingly. ‘It was all a storm in a tea-cup, he just forgot himself, that’s all.’

‘He forgets himself too often, last week he argued with me about fertilizer, a few days before that he tried to tell me I ought to put the paddock down by the lake down to clover.’ Bruce snarled. ‘The drongo’s only twenty. I’ve got over forty years’ experience of farming on him. He’d never even seen anyone do a Caesarean until that one, and he dares suggest he knows more about the aftercare than I do!’

Standing at the kitchen sink, Dulcie felt a cold shiver run down her spine. Maybe there was something wrong with the cow, but if Ross thought so he should have asked Bruce to go with him to look at her before supper, not just trotted it out as if he were an expert.

One thing was certain, Ross wouldn’t apologize, and neither would he move the cow, he was much too stubborn. Nor would he plead to be kept on. He’d pack his few things and he’d be off without a single backward glance or a goodbye. Yet she knew how he’d feel inside – devastated.

There might be some parts of Ross’s character which she didn’t understand, but she knew what Bruce and Betty meant to him. In their home he’d found happiness and security, through the work they’d given him he’d found self-esteem and fulfilment. To be cast out from here would strip him of all these things. He’d find another job soon enough, but he’d take resentment with him, and before long he’d be on the move again, and with each successive move he’d become more bitter and resentful.

She couldn’t bear the thought of that. She’d heard so many of John and Bruce’s tales about the hard stockmen who went from one property to another, never staying anywhere long enough to form any attachments. They worked, then drank and gambled their money away, then went back to work again. No real friends, no love, family or possessions. A life as arid as a desert.

And if Ross left who would be her friend then? She had gone into the ice-cream shop in Esperance where all the young people gathered dozens of times, but no one had ever spoken to her. Since her first dance on her seventeenth birthday she’d been to at least eight or nine more, but although people nodded and smiled at her and boys asked her to dance, she still didn’t know anyone any better than she did a year ago. They called her
The Pom girl out at French’s.
They weren’t even interested enough to find out her name. But then they made jokes that a person had to live around these parts for twenty years before they were considered a local.

Dulcie went to bed early and read a book for a while, but the words just danced about in front of her eyes, and finally she turned off the light and tried to sleep. But she couldn’t, instead she began to cry, both for herself and Ross. There were many times when she wished she could leave here, go to the city and find a job where she could use her brain, wear nice clothes and rise to be somebody, rather than just a skivvy. Yet in her heart she knew she wasn’t ready for the outside world yet. She was scared of being on her own, distrustful of strangers, and didn’t think she could make rational decisions for herself yet. She guessed that Ross was much the same. He was even more awkward with people than she was.

Just the thought of him riding around on his motorbike tonight chilled her. He had bought it soon after they saw
Rebel Without a Cause,
and a denim jacket and cowboy boots to complete the image. She’d teased him about it so often, calling him Rebel Ross as she tipped up his leather stockman’s hat and made him do the sneer like James Dean’s. She had always found it funny that he liked to project a rebellious image, but if he was out there seething with anger, maybe with a few schooners of beer inside him, he could pick a fight with someone a great deal tougher than him and he might be badly hurt.

As she lay there crying and thinking about what losing Ross would mean to her, she suddenly saw she loved him. Maybe their friendship had sprung from sympathy, but it was a great deal more than pity she felt for him now, or why else would she feel so torn apart?

The next morning she got up reluctantly as she heard Bruce go out. She had hardly slept at all, and she felt drained from spending most of the night wondering if she should try to plead with Bruce on his behalf.

She was washed and dressed and making a cup of tea for Betty when Bruce came back in. He didn’t speak but went over to the bookcase in the living-room to pull a book down.

Dulcie poured him a cup too, and took it in to him. He nodded thanks but didn’t speak or even look up, and she took it that he was in a bad mood and it wouldn’t be advisable to add to it.

When she took a cup of tea to Betty, and Betty asked her to cook the breakfast because she was feeling crook, Dulcie became even more anxious. Betty didn’t look ill, and she never stayed in bed even when she was, so it appeared she just didn’t want to witness any ugly or upsetting scenes.

Bruce went out again, but he hadn’t touched his tea, and as Dulcie laid the table for breakfast she kept glancing out of the window. She saw John and Bob herding the cows from the milking shed back into their paddock, but there was no sign of Ross. Yet his motorbike was there by the barn, so she decided she would cook him breakfast anyway, and she’d take it to Betty if he didn’t come in for it.

John and Bob arrived right on seven-thirty as usual, both looking a little strained, without their usual cheery greetings. Bruce arrived a few minutes later.

‘Where is he?’ Bruce asked from the doorway, bending down to take off his boots.

‘In the bunkhouse packing,’ John said. ‘He’d already got the cows in the shed and started on the milking before Bob and I woke. He’s just about to leave.’

‘Get him,’ Bruce said curtly and padded into the bathroom in his socks to wash his hands.

Dulcie wished she could go outside so she didn’t have to witness anything further. But there was toast to be made, tea to be poured, and she had no good reason to go out.

John brought Ross in just as Bruce was coming out of the bathroom. Ross looked defeated, his eyes cast down, shoulders hunched. ‘Sit down, you two,’ Bruce said to the men. He stood behind his own chair looking down at Ross.

‘Seems you were right after all about that cow, Ross. She’s not too good. Got a bit of an infection I’d say. I’ve bathed the wound and given her a shot. We’ll leave her where she is for a few more days.’

Dulcie gulped back a gasp, put the breakfasts down on the table and hurried out again to get the others.

She was staggered, not just that Ross had been right, but that Bruce was big enough to admit it. She didn’t think that many men would be so honest. She waited breathlessly, half expecting Ross to come back with some smug remark, but he didn’t.

‘Next time you feel there’s something wrong with one of my animals, just tell me,’ Bruce said, his voice softer now. ‘There’s a right and a wrong way to go about everything, and you’ve got a knack of getting up anyone’s nose. After you’ve finished your breakfast you can unpack your stuff, unless you really want to go. You’ve got the makings of a good stockman, and I don’t want to lose you.’

‘Thanks, boss,’ Ross replied. ‘I didn’t want to have to go.’

‘Men!’ Betty exclaimed a little later when she got up. ‘They’re all as stubborn as mules. I had to make Bruce go and check the cow himself this morning, just in case Ross was right. He didn’t want to, and the lad would have shot off without even a goodbye. Still, it’s all over now. Let’s hope we don’t have any more nastiness like that again, it twists me up inside.’

‘Me too,’ Dulcie agreed, hoping this wouldn’t make Ross even more big-headed now. ‘Are you feeling better now?’

Betty smiled. ‘There wasn’t much the matter with me, I just thought it best to keep out the way. I hope Ross has learned his lesson though, my Bruce won’t stand for anyone trying to tell him how to run his farm, not even me.’

Late in the afternoon Dulcie went over to the cattle pens because another calf had been born during the morning. Ross was there, raking out dirty straw, so she admired the new calf, watched it for a little while, then went over to see the cow that had caused the trouble.

Her stitched wound was a bit puffy and red in one small area, yet when Dulcie had looked at her the previous day she didn’t think it was like that then, or Bruce would have noticed it himself. She asked Ross what made him think something was wrong. ‘I don’t know,’ he shrugged. ‘Just a feeling, but the same feeling tells me she’s on the mend now too.’

‘It wasn’t very smart to be such a know-all with Bruce,’ she reproved him gently. ‘If you hadn’t turned out to be right, you’d have been gone by now.’

‘Would you have cared?’ he asked, his head down.

‘Of course I would,’ she said.

‘But does that mean you’d still be my girl?’