A Changing Land(112)

She needed to get outside for a few hours before readying to meet the Sydney plane and she needed to see Anthony. If they didn’t try to patch things up soon, there would be an awfully large hole to jump. She needed to hold out the olive branch while ensuring the development ceased. No matter what else may have occurred, Frank Michaels was right. Wangallon didn’t need any bad press. Not if they went to court. The question was, should they go to court or should she take everyone’s advice and just accept the inevitable.

A light fog clung to the waking day. Trees were blurred by the chilly whiteness of the air. Bullet was by Sarah’s side immediately, yawning, stretching and rubbing his head against her calf muscle. ‘Where’s Ferret?’ Bullet flicked his head towards the tank stand. Ferret was begrudgingly dragging himself upwards. ‘Come on then.’ Sarah tapped the dog’s water bowl with a stick, cracking the thin layer of ice on top, then with the two dogs in tow, they walked across ground hard with cold. Sarah listened as the rising wind carried the sounds of sheep crying across the paddocks, calling for their early born lambs. Elsewhere the bellowing of a bull reverberated across the rustle of grasses as the moist scent of the earth mingled with whiffs of herbage: some grown brittle by cold, others gathering in intensity as they awakened to a new day.

The Landcruisers were parked in the machinery shed and Sarah headed there. She thought she’d catch up with the musterers before they dispersed across Boxer’s Plains. Maybe see Matt and say hi to Pancake. She was doing her best not to think about Toby. She certainly didn’t expect to see Anthony with his head under the bonnet of the mobile work truck when she walked around the corner of the shed.

‘We really need to talk,’ she said.

He’d not heard her approaching and bashed his head on the hood. ‘Bugger it.’ He rubbed his head viciously. ‘When are you off?’

‘Lunchtime.’

‘What are you going to do?’

She shrugged her shoulders. Swallowing her pride she walked towards him, wrapped her arms about his body. ‘I thought we could talk about it.’ He smelled of oil and grease and the reassuring aroma of the man in her life. She kept her arms wrapped around him, willing him to hug her back. His arms hung by his sides. Sarah persevered, nestling her cheek against the raspy cold of his heavy work jacket. You have to give in, she pleaded silently. There has to be a bridging between us. She snuggled closer until her nose pressed hard against his neck. It was then he relented, with the touch of skin against skin. His arms lifted to encircle her and then his mouth touched hers. Sarah wriggled with delight at his touch. His hands pressed firm on her waist, he drew her to him roughly, bent her head almost fiercely and kissed her. She could sense the wanting between them. It hung in the air. They’d been too long apart, too long arguing. They needed to go back to the house and rid themselves of their need. Sarah’s fingers plucked at his shirt tail, her forefinger touched flesh … and then Anthony was physically removing her hands from his body.

Sarah found herself two steps away from him, cold air encircling her, the burn of embarrassment and disappointment flooding her cheeks. They looked at each other for a long moment, and then Anthony turned away. She stood there feeling stupid, wondering what she should do next. ‘Anthony?’

He slammed the bonnet down on the work truck, wiped his hands on a filthy rag.

‘Anthony, I need you.’

Leaning through the window on the driver’s side, Anthony turned the ignition, listened to the chug of the engine for a good minute and then turned it off. The stench of black exhaust fumes whirled around them in the increasing breeze. When he finally turned to look at her, there was something missing from his eyes.

‘You only need me when it suits you.’ He walked past her, got into one of the cruisers, reversed out of the shed and drove away.

Sarah waited until the last moment, sure he would stop the vehicle and come back to her. A billow of dust shadowed his departure. Moments later Bullet was licking her fingers.

Toby Williams walked his horse around the corner of the shed. ‘Morning. Wondering if Ant got the old truck going? We need the welder on the back.’

Sarah wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. ‘Yep, sounds like it’s going.’

He hesitated. ‘Are you okay?’ He fiddled with his bridle, made a show of scratching his mare between the ears.

‘Fine.’

He nodded in the direction Anthony had left. ‘You know what they call ’em in Wangallon Town? The jackeroo.’