‘We back on Jemma again?’ Lachlan shook his head as he pushed on a sheep’s rump to force the woolly bundle into the pen. ‘She’s probably just focused. Maybe she’s even shy and was trying to hide it. Different strokes for different folks, you know. Not everyone has to be your level of irritatingly happy.’
‘I’ve never met anyone so judgemental.’
‘So you’re judging her for that?’
He ignored the dig. ‘Or arrogant.’
‘Well, I reckon maybe you should be able to work out why, seeing as you manage to come up with excuses for the old man being a miserable bastard.’
Hamish knew that was Lachlan’s way of acknowledging their slightly improved relationship with their father. He’d taken the loss of Mum, coming up on three years ago now, badly. They all had. But the old man had vented his inabilityto cope on his sons, primarily Lachlan, who worked with him on the farm. Hamish had recognised that their father was driven by his feelings of helplessness and guilt so—even though it meant setting himself up so Dad could take a crack at him occasionally, to give Lachlan a day off—Hamish had tried to keep things level between the three of them until the grief eased.
Lachlan looked up as two magpies carolled in the silver gum overhanging the sheep yard. ‘Almost done, then we’ll have smoko.’
‘I swear you’re talking to those birds again, not me. They’ve got you trained.’
‘It’s because Charity feeds them up at the house. I’m sure these two follow me around when she’s at work, waiting for some of her cake.’
‘Fair enough, worth the chase.’ He wasn’t going to mention Jemma again. He’d let her into his thoughts far too much, although he knew it was only because she presented a rare challenge. He wanted to break through that self-righteous veneer in case it imprisoned an actual fun, carefreehuman. But there was no point trying: the woman was a corporate robot, obsessed with being right.
Twenty minutes later, they sat with their backs against the stone wall of the shearing shed. As always, Charity’s chocolate cake was good: dark and moist. He almost wanted to fight the magpies for the crumbs Lachlan was throwing them.
‘Mate, I’ve been meaning to ask your advice on something.’
‘Been waiting to hear that from my little brother for the last thirty-odd years,’ Lachlan replied. ‘And my advice is, step lightly close to home.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Jemma might be city, but Pierce is one of us, now. You can’t mess around with her.’
He shook his head. ‘I’d have dry-ice burns if I did. But that’s not where I was going, not even if you paid me. But you know Tara Paech?’
‘Obviously. And she’s completely out of bounds,’ Lachlan said, all humour evaporated. ‘You know I’ll stick up for you anytime, mate, but have you seen Wheaty? Hauling rocks for a living makes for some serious muscle; mess with his sister, and you’re going to get closely acquainted with those fists.’
‘Why do you always think I’m on the hunt?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Past experience? History? Habit? The fact that most of your conversations work their way back to the shortage of women around here.’
That was true enough, yet apparently there was a point at which having a good time was no longer fun. ‘You know I’ve always been the first to say Tara’s off limits. But that’s the thing. Jemma said the other day—’ Bloody hell, he’d promised himself he wasn’t mentioning her again. He tightened his lips, then blundered on. ‘Well, you know Tara has a thing for me.’
‘You, Juz, and just about anything else in jeans or footy shorts.’
‘Yeah, well, that’s it. She makes it kind of obvious,’ he said uncomfortably. ‘You reckon Wheaty notices?’
‘Notices what? That she’s a twenty-year-old looking for fun? It’s not whatshedoes that’ll be the issue, mate.’
Hamish grimaced. He was overthinking this, thanks to Jemma. ‘You’re right. It’s just that after what happened with Hope last year, I reckon maybe she should be a little careful.’ He ended what should have been a statement on a questioning inflection. What right did he have to stick his nose in?
‘Tara’s in Settlers Bridge, mate. So long as you keep it in your pants, she’ll be right.’
Hamish shoved to his feet. ‘Yeah. Of course.’ Why the hell had he let Jemma get into his head? Lachlan’s takewas exactly what his had been before the lawyer made him second-guess himself.
Yet still he felt vaguely unsettled, as though he was turning a blind eye to a looming tragedy.
‘Reckon I might get you a key cut, mate,’ he said as Ethan rapped on the back door, then opened it.
‘You never lock up, so not much point.’
‘Fair call. Know the thought is there, though.’ He liked the way the other guy’s company broke up the silence in the house. After Lachlan’s divorce, Hamish had hung out with his brother more and, while Charity was always happy to feed them both, it wouldn’t be fair to her if he spent all his time out there.
