With a gun in his
fist he was ten
feet tall

I

Laura stepped out of her room and closed the flywire door behind her. She looked up. Texas was walking between the garden bushes towards her. His grin showed his teeth and her body relaxed into happiness.

‘Miss me, eh?’

His voice rumbled in his chest and her head was against it and she looked up at him, wanting to say, I’ve missed you so much. I’m nothing without you.

‘How come you’re back?’

‘Clutch burn out on the post-hole digger. Ground too bloody hard.’

‘What are you doing now?’

‘See my woman, eh?’

‘What about the fence?’

Texas ‘The boss, he got to get someone to bring out the part for it.’

She reached down for his hand, his long slender fingers that were callused and rough.

‘Come with me.’

‘Sound pretty good,’ he said, laughing quietly as she led him into the quarters that they were about to share.

He sat on the bed and took off his boots and pulled the singlet from over his head. She placed her hand on his shoulder and it was hot from the sun and she noticed where his skin was lighter.

‘Look,’ she said. ‘You’ve got a mark where your singlet has been.’

‘Yeah I got sunburnt.’

She was kneeling on the bed and she looked at him in surprise. ‘Do you get sunburnt?’

He half turned, frowning. ‘Yeah.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. I thought . . .’

She was embarrassed but he lay back on the bed, pulling her down with him. The fan rotated lazily above their heads and the movement of air was something solid that swept over their bodies and held them there.

‘Put that Johnny Cash tape on.’

Texas had brought over his ghetto-blaster from his room on the other side of the creek, and it was sitting on a chair between the bed and the wall. She reached over and pressed play, and they lay there, listening to the dense voice of Cash speak the words:

‘When Robert E Lee surrendered the Confederacy Jefferson Davis was upset about it He said how dare that man rescind an order From the president of the Confederate States of America Then somebody told him that General Lee had made the decision himself In order to save lives because he felt that the battle comin up Would cost about 20,000 lives on both sides And he said 240,000 dead already is enough . . .’

‘I’ve got to go,’ said Laura, sitting up. ‘Susannah’ll be wondering where I am.’

She leant down and kissed him but he held her arms playfully, preventing her from pulling away.

‘Maybe I don’t let you go.’

‘You can deal with Susannah then,’ she said lightly but with a slight edge in her voice that revealed her animosity towards the woman.

‘That missus, she’s all right, she’s like a fish trying to get back in the water,’ he said and he started laughing to himself.

‘What are you laughing at?’

He had let go of her arms and she fell back beside him, one hand holding up her head as she watched him. He turned to her, his grin wide.

‘I was thinking. That time when we got here to this place.

I was watching those people; they were looking like they were

Texas going to eat you all up. And I thought, that girl, she going to need a backstop.’ His smile was infectious.

‘Really, what do you mean by backstop?’

‘Like a . . . you know, a fella that supports another fella.’

‘Oh, so that’s why you seduced me,’ she said, gently poking his skin.

He looked up at the ceiling, grinning smugly. ‘What else is a fella to do when a pretty girl comes into his camp looking like she got an idea?’

‘It wasn’t all my idea,’ she said, a little defensively.

He glanced at her with eyes that crinkled at the edges.

‘Just a little bit your idea. Might be I was thinking about it when your elbow was sticking into me, that time you were sitting in the middle, between the boss and me.’ He lifted his arm and said, ‘Here, come here.’ Bringing her closer.

She walked across the lawn, wondering how he could make her feel as though they existed somewhere entirely separate from everyone else. It was as if everything that had ever happened to either of them had been leading to this, to this one thing. She’d never been so happy.

The head had fallen off one of the sprinklers and it dribbled water into a widening puddle on the grass and little birds dipped in and out. The thick heat was almost impenetrable as she moved from the shaded area into sunlight, and it was all the more shocking for the contrast. Susannah looked up from the sink.

‘Can you finish here?’ she said. ‘I’ve got to go to the children.’

‘Texas’s back,’ said Laura, squaring her shoulders.

Susannah expelled air noisily in a short, sharp sigh, ignoring Laura’s eyes.

‘I s’pose he’ll need feeding as well. Get the salt beef out of the cool room and cut off some more,’ she said before the flywire door closed behind her. ‘The key’s above the sink.’

Susannah was like that now, matter-of-fact and impersonal.

It was as though Laura had never sat at her table. In some ways she preferred it this way. At least she knew where she stood.

Since John had returned from the city, working for Susannah was more structured and Laura was to be in the kitchen by six every morning, except Sundays. Lists of jobs were prepared and she worked steadily through them; cleaning windows and washing walls and floors. The mindlessness of it all left her open to other experiences, fanciful journeys of thought, where she imagined a life with Texas in a grand two-storey homestead of stone with wide verandas and views from every room. Horses with gleaming coats grazed in the fields below.

Laura sat down with Texas on the veranda. Sometimes Gerry joined them but he had gone into town for a couple of weeks.

He was taking his time off before the wet. At times she was nervous of the heat, wondering how much she could take and how long it would be before someone would tell her that it was the hottest day, like the longest day of the year in the northern hemisphere. It was impossible to celebrate a hot day, it was enough just to endure, to maintain the boundaries between her and its increasingly physical presence. Texas took a piece of bread from the middle of the table and placed it on his plate and spread margarine over it.

Texas ‘It must be hot out there fencing,’ she said.

He looked up. ‘Bloody hot on that rock.’

‘Is John out there with you?’

‘Not this week. Last week, he out for half a day.’

John had been back from his city trip for a couple of weeks. He rarely spoke directly to her and she wondered if her presence was tolerated for Texas’s sake. Presumably she was still being paid but she wasn’t sure whether there was a difference between a jillaroo’s wage and a domestic’s. She didn’t want to ask in case they told her she wasn’t needed any more. There were steps around the side of the cool room and John appeared, moving purposefully towards them. He nodded at Texas.

‘I’ll pick up that part on Monday,’ he said. ‘How long you reckon you got left out there?’

‘That ground too bloody hard for that digger. Need the rain, you know, soften it up,’ said Texas. His eyes not quite meeting John’s when he spoke.

‘No time mate, more cattle coming up, stud animals,’ said John and he removed his hat. ‘Wire it up to one of those snappy gums if you can’t get a post in. Plenty of them out there.’

Although she was looking at Texas, she was aware of John and he leant down and pulled off his boots and placed them beside the kitchen door. Before he opened it, he turned back towards them.

‘Have the day off tomorrow.’

‘Toyota need oil change and new filters,’ said Texas.

‘When you finish that then.’ And he disappeared into the kitchen and they heard him talking to his children.

She wondered what she and Texas might do for the wet.

They should take a holiday, perhaps go to Darwin together.

There would be money for travelling in their bank accounts.

After board was taken out, cheques were deposited every month when Susannah or John went to town. Texas was staring past her, the whites of his eyes marked with tired tracks of red, then they returned to her face and the skin creased around them.

‘What you looking like that for?’ he said.

She was glad to have his attention.

‘I was just thinking what we might do when we get some time off.’

‘Go for a drive eh,’ he said. ‘In the afternoon.’

II

Laura opened the gate that led out of the homestead yard and crossed the dirt, and although the day was overcast, it seemed the heat was trapped in between. She walked slowly and precisely, her feet in hot socks and boots. Parched pieces of rock scraped beneath them and the memory of the nights sustained her. Of air that became softer in the dark. Air gently pushed around by the fan, the slow, languorous movement of curtain fabric as it let the outside in. The generator was off and the sound of a metal tool dropped on concrete rang out clearly, breaking the heavy muteness of midday. She was carrying a bag with a water container and salt-beef sandwiches that she

Texas had made herself. She stepped into the gloom of the shed and blinked, her eyes adjusting to the lesser light. The bonnet of the Toyota was up and Texas was leaning in behind it.

‘Are you just about finished?’ she asked.

He stepped back. ‘Yeah, start her up.’

She placed the bag with the food and drink on the seat before her and climbed in behind the steering wheel. It reminded her of that afternoon at the end of the rodeo when she drove to the tank along the highway for a bogey. There were too many police on the road for anyone else to drive and the vehicle was crowded with people wanting to cool down. She was stopped, but even though they knew she’d been drinking, they let her continue. About ten kilometres or so down the road Texas pointed out a large concrete tank on her right. She parked close beside it and everyone climbed onto the roof and jumped into water that was cool and clear.

She moved over into the passenger seat to let Texas in behind the wheel. He reversed the vehicle out of the shed and into bright light and it seemed that in the short time they’d been in the shed the clouds had moved into one half of the sky and were thickening.

‘Does that mean it might rain?’

‘Just build-up. No rain yet.’

They were in view of Irish’s old caravan and the bough shed beside it and she remembered the old man and the way he’d died and the thought of it made her feel slightly ill. When John returned he’d called the ambulance to take him away and a few days ago police had come to interview Susannah. She was apparently in trouble for not reporting his death but she’d never spoken to Laura about it, and when Laura mentioned it to Texas, he didn’t seem to want to talk about it either. Texas drove the vehicle towards the yards but instead of following the track beside it that led across the creek, he stopped in front of the gate on the other side.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked, opening the door.

‘Maybe go along that ridge there and out into that red flat country.’

She closed the gate, the metal almost too hot to touch, and the sweat on her back dried by the time she returned to the vehicle. The track was rough and rocky and they drove through black-soil country that was well wooded with trees she’d seen many times before, trees with butterfly leaves that were soft-colour green with blood-red pods and rust-tinted flowers, and among them were tall, wide bushes that were prickly. Through them, she caught glimpses of a black stony ridge and she remembered on a drive with John, he’d said they were basalt ridges, the oldest in the country.

‘Hold the wheel eh.’

She reached over to steady it while Texas cupped the match to light his rollie. She thought it too hot to smoke. Her elbow rested on the open window and her other arm hung loosely at her side; she was trying to keep it away from the heat of her body. She looked over at Texas, holding the wheel casually and capably, his checked shirt rolled above the elbows, and thought he looked no different to when he rode a horse.

Texas ‘That old fella, he knew all the footwalking road through here. He learnt it from the old people.’

‘Who, Irish?’

‘Before Toyota road, old people they walk the same way, except in different place.’

‘Where?’ she said and looked to his profile that was turned away from her.

He glanced back. ‘They walk that place, they know that tree, they know that hill and all around. Not any more. Most of the old people are gone.’

‘Do you know where they walked?’

He stared ahead, steering the vehicle along the track.

‘When I was a young fella, I was droving cattle.’

They continued for another hour or so. She found it hard to gauge time when everything they drove past seemed to stand motionless in the bleached light. The country was flatter and became redder and there were small rises which they drove over and through and eventually they stopped at some pinkish, pale-coloured rock.

‘This place, maybe nice and cool,’ he said as he turned off the engine.

She looked out the window and saw nothing that resembled shelter or shade and the air that entered was thick with heat. He was climbing out his door and pulling the bag of food towards him.

‘You staying there?’ Grinning beneath his hat.

Her body came away from the seat wetly and for a moment it was cooling. He was walking ahead of her towards the rock and after he climbed over the first few boulders she realised he was descending into a crack in the earth. She followed, clambering over the smooth hot stones, and gradually the rock became cool to touch the further down they went. The walls narrowed and she could touch each side with her hands and they rose almost vertically twenty metres or so and the sky could be seen, framed by the narrow ragged opening above.

The rocks were smooth and pale, marked with thin wavering lines of pink, purple and red, and they seemed to be formed in blocks, almost regular in shape. The gap between them widened and Texas was standing beside a circular pool, no more than ten metres across, deep emerald in colour.

‘My god, this is beautiful. Who would have believed it?’

Texas sat down against the rock and took off his hat.

‘Nearly lost a horse over the edge, my old man, that’s how he found it.’

‘Let’s have a swim,’ she said, resting beside him.

‘That water too deep. That water go a long, long way.’

She’d only been looking at the surface.

Descending at dusk into a plain surrounded by shapes that resembled mountains, only smaller. It was hazy with smoke or heat and it was like being in the bottom of a canyon. They drove through a gap in the hills and out into the wide country where the sun was still bright and she recognised the ranges ahead where at the base would be the homestead, the sheds and the yards. It seemed they’d driven in a circle and they would return in another direction from the way they had left.

Texas stopped for a gate. A bird of prey hovered, the tips of

Texas its wings trembling with the effort of staying above in one place. Through the trees on their left was a windmill. She climbed back in the vehicle and Texas drove forwards. He was looking across her and out of the window and she couldn’t read his expression.

‘What is it?’

He swung the vehicle away from the track towards the windmill. Crows spiralled and eagles flew up in wide swooping arcs, and the smell of putrid flesh crashed in on them, and the trees thinned, revealing a scene that was horrifying, of cattle barely standing above many that were dead, blank-eyed and hollow.

‘Cattle smash,’ he muttered.

‘What?’ She immediately thought of a vehicle. ‘But how?’

‘They got no water.’

Texas stepped out onto the dirt and walked towards the trough. They were the animals she had ridden with, the brahman weaners which had been so carefully looked after, fed mineral supplements and hay. She followed slowly, her hand over her nose, barely able to take it all in. There were maybe five or six alive, standing with front legs splayed, heads dropping to the ground, grey tongues protruding from their open mouths. The rest were bunched together, as though they’d fought one another, some on top of others in a sickening, stinking mound, where bones had been picked at and black flesh torn by birds, and maggots moved in the openings. Texas was staring at the trough blankly. There was dust where there should have been water. She followed his gaze as he looked up, and it travelled from the black poly pipe which snaked away from the trough in the direction of the windmill. In places it was submerged by sand and then it surfaced again near the fence and it was in that area that most of the cattle had died. Texas took off his hat, his eyes blinking rapidly. He looked over to the Toyota and back to the cattle that were standing. And then one of them fell, and dust filled its vacant eye.

‘Twenty litres in the back. But it’s too late,’ he said and he replaced his hat on his head and she could no longer see his eyes.

‘What about in the tank?’

‘That tank empty. Spilled out. See where that pipe broke.

Them poor little fellas trying to get that water coming out before it dried up.’

She realised what had happened.

‘But how long has it been like this? Doesn’t Gerry check all the bores and the windmills?’

Then she remembered he was in town and John had been doing it. He told Susannah that was where he was last week.

‘Maybe three or four days in this heat. That’s all it takes for them little fellas.’

As they drove in the direction of the station, the hills beyond it edged in pale light, she realised the worst thing was that it was so close to the homestead. They didn’t speak until he switched off the ignition.

‘I’m going to tell the boss,’ he said, turning towards her, and she caught a glimpse of the hollowed-out look in his eye and then as quickly it was gone and he left the vehicle.

Texas She wanted to go after him, to hold him, but she knew he wasn’t seeing her. Undressing for a shower, she heard a car engine and saw, through the small window in the bedroom, lights finding a path through the dark. She switched on the globe in the bathroom. The water was warmed by the heat of the day and she scrubbed the smell from her skin and hair. The longer she stood there, the more the memory of the day became like something she might have seen in a movie. She knocked at the kitchen door and when Susannah told her to come in, Laura went to the dishes on the sink, knowing that that was what Susannah wanted when she was at the table feeding the children.

‘What happened out there?’ asked Susannah. ‘Stop that,’ she said to one of the boys as he emptied a spoonful of food on the table.

‘There were some cattle without water.’

Susannah looked up and Laura thought she saw something in Susannah’s face like disgust but then it was gone.

‘Right. Bedtime,’ she said and ushered the boys out the door.

Laura said goodnight but they didn’t answer.

Even though she didn’t feel like eating, she helped herself to some stew from the pot on the stove and sat on the veranda and listened to the amplified sound of the cicadas as she moved the meat around on the plate. She thought she heard the pop of a gunshot but she couldn’t be sure. Susannah returned and paused by the door for a moment, and Laura thought she might be about to say something but she didn’t. The vehicle returned. She heard the men’s footsteps before they appeared. John stepped up onto the veranda and he threw her a look of such extreme dislike that it made her sink back in her chair. The flywire door closed behind him. Texas came towards her and he shook his head slowly.

‘Do you want something to eat?’ she asked quietly.

‘No,’ he said.

Noticing the brown dirt on his arms and his jeans, like dried blood.

‘What is it?’

‘All finished with that fella.’

She was standing, looking through the louvres into the kitchen at the shape of the station couple on either side of the table and the dull light that surrounded them.

‘But what are we going to do? Where will we go?’

‘I got a good place now,’ he said, managing a tired smile.

He placed his hand on her shoulder and they walked across to their quarters.

III

Susannah felt the bed move as her husband got up, his figure faintly outlined in the shadows. Neither of them had slept and it was his restless movements that had kept her awake. The light from the bathroom, which was further down the hall, reflected on the wall outside their bedroom door. Even though it was dark behind the curtains, she could hear the twitterings of little

Texas birds preparing for dawn. When she heard his footsteps leave the house, she climbed out of bed and slipped on the shirt and shorts she’d been wearing yesterday. Standing by the stove in the kitchen, hearing the metal of the kettle creak as it began to heat up, and noticing that behind the louvres, the sky was lightening she became aware of other people’s voices. John was at the shed filling up with fuel. She moved out onto the veranda and on the other side of the lawn she could see the dark shape of Texas as he carried his swag and placed it beside the gate, where John would bring the vehicle. Texas looked back towards the tree in front of the quarters and Susannah realised he was responding to something Laura had said for she emerged from behind it and handed him her backpack. He took it with one hand and with the other he pulled her close and they stood together, his head angled towards hers, she, at the height of his shoulder, looking up at him, and behind them the light was soft, a hazy gold that made everything seem possible. If she could, Susannah would tell her mother that it was beautiful here in the mornings. But that it never lasted.

She heard the vehicle start up and returned to the kitchen where she made herself a cup of tea. Listening to the activity around her, feeling like she always did, as though she was on the other side of it. Doors slammed; there were footsteps on the veranda. Her husband was in the doorway. Their eyes met.

‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ she asked.

He shook his head. ‘I’ll pick up the stores. Is there anything else?’

‘No,’ she said.

The door closed behind him. And a little while later the vehicle started again. She knew it was them leaving, it was the sound she’d been waiting for, the sound that would mark the moment when she was alone, just her and the children.

And because she’d known it was going to happen, she didn’t feel any different. Her head was thick from not enough sleep and perhaps full of words that needed to be spoken, but other than that it was just like any other day. But then the thought of another day to fill seemed to open wide, so wide she felt that the idea itself might engulf her. She wouldn’t let it, though, she was stronger than that.

Last night after dinner she’d written out the final cheques for Laura and Texas. She could have given them to John but instead she decided to take them over herself. She didn’t want to think about why they were leaving or what had happened but she needed to show them that she wasn’t like her husband.

The couple weren’t in the quarters and so she called out and then in the paddock on the other side of the fence she could make out the orange glow of their cigarettes. She realised as she stood at the fence that they were sitting on a swag a couple of metres away. Laura stood up and came over.

‘I’ve got your cheques here,’ Susannah said.

‘Thanks,’ said Laura.

She stepped through the wire and Susannah followed her into the quarters.

‘It must be nice out there,’ said Susannah awkwardly. ‘I guess you can see the stars.’

Laura was standing in the sleep-out under the globe. She turned back and faced Susannah in the doorway. Laura’s hair hung around her face and she smelt of tobacco. Smiling slightly, she said, ‘Yeah, there’s a bit of lightning around too but Texas said it’ll be a while before it rains.’ She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it back from her forehead, glancing at the cheques and then at Susannah. ‘It’ll be good to move on,’ she said.

Susannah wondered whether she’d ever looked like Laura. There were no hard edges to a woman in love. Her mother would’ve been able to tell her, if she hadn’t been too busy to notice, or perhaps distracted by the cancer that was going to kill her. These days her mother seemed to be forever in her mind. Susannah was allowing her thoughts to go to her instead of closing them off like she’d done in the early days of her grief. The intensity of her sadness was dispersing and separating itself from the other parts of her life.

‘Do you know what time John’s leaving tomorrow?’ asked Laura.

Susannah realised with a start that she might have been staring. God knows what Laura thought of her.

‘Um, probably around five,’ she said, turning away. But then she paused in the doorway. ‘I hope everything works out.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Where would you like us to forward your mail?’

Laura’s eyes flicked to the side of the door. She suddenly looked uncertain.

‘Oh, I guess just to the GPO in town.’

‘All right then. Bye.’

‘Bye.’

Sitting now with her cup of tea, the air in the kitchen beginning to heat up as the sun rose higher in the sky, she wondered what it would be like to be Laura. Is that what she wanted? To be leaving? Was she envious? She’d like to have been in her skin, to be able to feel what she was feeling, but she wouldn’t like the uncertainty. Perhaps it was why she married John. So she didn’t have to think about the future, about what was to come next. Marriage saved her from that and so did the children. She just hadn’t realised there wouldn’t be much room to breathe. Her mother would say she was thinking too much again. It was time to get the children up.

She drained her cup and rinsed it underneath the tap.

Ollie was awake. He had pulled the sheet from his bed and draped it across to the chest of drawers. He was sitting underneath it as though in a small tent.

‘What are you doing, Ollie?’

‘Shush,’ he said in an exaggerated whisper.

‘It’s okay, it’s time to get up.’

Ollie looked disappointed as he watched his brother stir. He probably liked those moments to himself.

‘Come on, breakfast,’ she said and helped them into their clothes.

Back in the kitchen she was trying not to think about the two who had left. Laura and Texas had made life bearable because even when she wasn’t watching them, she knew they were there. They were like a story she could dip in and out of

Texas and now she wondered how it would end. She missed Irish too but she had no idea who he was. And she wasn’t the only one. When she saw the police vehicle parked at the gate, she almost took off to the hills herself. But they just wanted to look through his belongings to establish his identity for the coroner. They didn’t find very much. Some old Christmas cards from people without return addresses and photos without captions. There were mostly Post magazines from the 1960s but amongst them they found a note from the Commissioner of Native Affairs dated sometime in the 1940s. The ink had faded too much for it to be read clearly. It was headed Notice of Objection to Application for Certificate of Citizenship and the person it referred to was a woman called Charlotte but the surname was impossible to decipher.

‘Why would he have something like this?’ she asked.

The policeman who found it didn’t know but the other one said, ‘They probably wanted to get married.’

‘So why would he need that?’

‘Well presumably he was Australian and with her being Aboriginal she’d have to be a citizen for them to be legally married.’

‘Really,’ said Susannah, puzzled. ‘Surely she was more Australian than anybody?’

‘You’d think so.’

‘Why would it have been refused?’

The policeman shrugged and looked closely at the document. ‘They’ve got the reasons written here. You just can’t read them. I’ve seen it before among some old records. Probably for associating with her family, other Aboriginal people. The idea was to get them to behave more like the whites.’

‘It’s sort of crazy when you think about it,’ said the other policeman. ‘There were some pretty undesirable white blokes around in those days.’

She remembered Irish’s stories of men who held head-butting competitions and played Russian roulette for fun at Christmas; men who drank themselves to death before anything worse could happen. They were the frontier men who followed the cattle into this country.

When John found out that Irish had died, he shouted at her. ‘Don’t you realise it is illegal not to report a death. You can’t leave him to rot on the hill. It’s not allowed.’

‘I don’t see why not,’ she said.

‘Well if everyone did that, the whole country would be filled with dead bodies.’ He spoke as though he was talking to a child.

‘Probably already is,’ she said. ‘Who would know?’

He looked at her strangely.

But the policemen had been very nice and waived the fine she’d incurred for not reporting his death immediately. One of them said there had to be some compensation for living so far from anywhere.

Her gaze returned to her children. She sighed loudly. Ned looked up from his bowl of cereal.

‘Mummy, can we take the duck swimming?’

‘Can we, can we?’ squealed Ollie, wriggling off his chair.

‘When you finish your breakfast,’ she said.

Texas But they were already out of their chairs and she didn’t have the energy to make them come back. It was too hot. The fan was on full speed but all it did was make the air more noticeable. She really should put on a load of washing but instead she followed them out into the garden to where the plastic wading pool was resting against a tree. She pulled it down and placed it in the shade. She gave the boys the hose and turned on the tap and then went inside to get some towels. As she settled on a towel under the tree, she thought briefly of snakes and decided that with the amount of noise they were making, they’d scare them away. They sprayed her with the hose but she didn’t object until it looked like the water might ruin the book she was reading. It was called By Sundown and she could tell from the cover that there would be a big shoot-out and the men would get their women. She’d only just started it. There was something about the books that compelled her to read on until the end. Perhaps it was the words ‘The End’ that appealed; you knew everything would be put right by the time you finished reading the last page.

One of the women was called Laura and Susannah was nearly distracted from the story into thinking about the other Laura.

Laura was the pretty girl in the blue bonnet that was promised to the deputy sheriff in Jonesburg, Kansas. Then there was Brooke who dressed rather too colourfully for a respectable woman. She had a superb figure with a tiny waist, rounded hips, long silken-clad legs and full breasts and had just arrived in town on the stage coach.

Every story was the same. There were two women, one of whom was desired by all the men and the other who was the good little wife. It could be her and Laura, except the other way round, but Susannah didn’t feel like the good wife either.

The deputy, called Clint Messenger, was the sixth man to wear the badge within the space of a year. The others had either been shot or ran out of town by the Texas cowboys. And the news was the cowboys were returning to Jonesburg—lean, lithe-hipped men with tied-down guns, some of them as wild and unpredictable as the longhorns they hazed up over the Texas Panhandle.

Susannah looked up from the book to check on the boys.

Ollie was sitting in the pool playing with his plastic duck and nearby Ned was hosing water over the trucks he’d lined up on the grass. The water sparkled in the sun and the light behind the boys was so bright that it seemed to white out the view beyond the fence. She blinked to clear the spots from her eyes so she could focus on the words, but they leapt around a bit until her eyes grew used to the page again.

Clint Messenger looked south and saw a blood-red moon climbing into the sky. It was shining through a great haze of red alkali dust. There was no wind. The dust was lifting from a thousand plodding longhorn hooves eating up the last dry miles between Texas and Jonesburg, Kansas. The Texans were coming. Susannah put the book down. She realised why people read these stories when they worked on stations. The ringers who went into town to spend their cheques when the mustering season was over were not that different from the Texas cowboys, although they didn’t shoot each other. Not that she’d heard

Texas anyway. She remembered the woman from the co-op saying you knew when the season was over because the pub and the tavern were full. In the story the young deputy was going to have to control the drunk and trigger-happy Texans and meanwhile he was neglecting his fiancée because he’d taken a liking to the other woman, Brooke. Susannah sighed. Of course he had. She really should put the book away. There were things to be done in the house. She remembered she didn’t have to bake any bread today since John would be bringing some home from town. But she needed to sort out the clothes and clean the bathroom and check the meat supply and plan what they would be having for dinner. She wondered when Gerry was returning. He was another person she would have to feed. She picked up the book again.

Tall, hard-bitten men turned to stare as the man with the badge strode up. It was three days since the first herd had arrived but there had been no real trouble so far. A few scuffles, one or two arrests for drunkenness and a few half-hearted insults between Kansans and Texans. Clint had managed the Texans far better than most had expected. He found them suspicious, pugnacious and wild in drink, but not mean and vicious as he’d been led to believe. They were spending their money on drink and gambling at the Texas Palace Saloon.

Susannah looked up.

‘Where’s Ned?’ she asked Ollie.

And then she saw him on the veranda. The shade had moved so that part of the pool was in the sun. She stood up and told

Ollie to get out so that she could bring the pool back into the cooler part of the lawn.

‘Are you hungry?’

She picked up her book and they followed her into the kitchen. She gave them cordial and a biscuit each. Ned started crying when he dropped his on the floor.

‘You won’t get another one if you don’t stop.’

He looked at her blackly but was silent and she handed him another biscuit.

It wasn’t until after lunch that she was able to pick up the book again. The boys were in their room resting. They were feeling the heat too. She’d done two loads of washing so she allowed herself the luxury of lying under the fan in the bedroom.

Things had come to a boil with the Texans. Full of whisky-bolstered courage, they were looking for the gambler Race Buchanan. Laura came to the jailhouse to find Clint. She met Buchanan and asked him about Brooke.

‘We were lovers in the south, Laura, nothing more, nothing less. I was content to continue the way we were, for I had no illusions about eternal love and such nonsense. Brooke wanted wedding bells and orange blossoms. So I left her. Decamped, I heard Brooke was distraught. I didn’t hear until much later that she had also lost the child I didn’t know she was carrying . . .’ His voice had grown softer and softer.

‘She must have loved you a lot to be hurt so deeply.’

‘There’s no such thing. Or if there is, I’ve never encountered it.’

Laura felt challenged. ‘I love Clint.’

Texas ‘Need, want, desire perhaps. It’s all selfish, Laura, it’s a great sham.’

‘I’d rather die than feel the way you do.’

The shooting started. Susannah skipped over most of it now that she was nearing the end. The women joined in, placing themselves in the line of fire, to be near the men they loved. Susannah reached the part where Race Buchanan realised he loved Brooke. It had taken a woman to show him that life was about self-sacrifice, nobility and dedication to duty. Susannah couldn’t read any more. She didn’t even want to get to the end. Instead she ripped the book in half, tearing it into pieces easily. There wasn’t much to it and she let the scraps of paper fall all over the bed. Lying back on her pillow, she watched the fan rotate above her head; round and round it went. Her mother had the same ideas about sacrifice and duty and at that moment she decided that everything she hated about her life was her mother’s fault. She was not going to live her mother’s story. She would create a new one for herself.

IV

It was about eight o’clock when Susannah heard the sound of a vehicle slowing for a gate. It was quite far away and even though it was most likely John, she turned off the light in the kitchen and waited in the darkness for it to arrive. She’d put the children to bed about half an hour ago and she was on her second can of beer. She wished they were full strength because they didn’t seem to be doing anything to make her feel more cheerful. It was John’s four-wheel drive and it stopped in front of the yard. The lights flicked off and she watched him get out of the car. For some reason she stayed where she was, listening to his footsteps on the veranda and the sound of his boots falling to the floor. The door squeaked open and his shape filled the doorway.

‘I’m here,’ she said flatly.

‘Shit. What are you doing? Frightened the bloody daylights out of me. What’s happened to the light?’

‘Nothing.’

The fluorescent tube flickered and she caught glimpses of him, hatless and uncertain. Eventually it became solid light and she saw that his eyes were red and he was unsteady on his feet.

‘Have you been drinking?’ she asked.

He shot her a glance. ‘Looks like you’re doing all right yourself.’

She brought the can up to her mouth and swallowed and then set it down again. ‘Why shouldn’t I?’

He shrugged. ‘Never thought you were really into it.’

He pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘What’s for dinner?’

‘I haven’t cooked any.’

He nodded slightly as though it was nothing unusual. Then he leant forward on the table and rested his elbows, supporting his chin with one hand and holding his forehead with the other, as though the weight was too much to bear. He looked up at her. ‘Do you want to leave, is that it? You can if you want.’

Texas She was finding it hard to maintain the anger when he wasn’t giving her anything to fuel it. She was angry with herself, and perhaps with her mother most of all, for creating the ideas that were suffocating them both. He looked small in the chair with his shoulders slumped forwards.

‘Where’s your hat?’

‘Dunno, might have left it in the bar.’

‘What happened in town?’

He sighed. ‘There was a message at the co-op. Arne’s on his way up.’

‘Does he know about the cattle?’

He shook his head slowly. ‘I’ll have to tell him when he gets here.’

She realised they’d both been trapped. He was just as constrained by the idea of how he was supposed to behave as she was. He should be able to make mistakes and she should be able to move away from the kitchen.

‘You know it’s only a job. Being on this place, out here.’

He frowned. ‘You’re not making any sense.’

‘I was just thinking. It’s different now. From the way people used to be in this country. It’s not about being a bloody hero. We’re just doing a job. And we can do it in another place if we have to.’

He sat up a bit. ‘Yeah,’ he said quietly and his eyes looked away and then came back. ‘Yeah,’ he said more firmly. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

‘Just talk to me, like this.’

‘I can’t do it on my own.’

‘I know.’

And her fingers reached across the table towards his, touching the tips. She noticed the creases around his eyes and thought that perhaps age would suit him.