Bronson cleared his throat, staring conspicuously at his plate.
“What if another fire flared up, and you were stuck in the forest by yourself?” Troy asked.
I saw the desolate landscape in a whole new light then. The lazy curls of smoke became far more sinister, the ash some sort of booby trap.
“What if you were trapped out there and I…?” My eyes flicked up to meet his and I could see the war being fought there. Concern and anger were duking it out, and I wasn’t sure who would win. “And I was out?—?”
“Troy.” Scotty came stumbling in through the front door, looking completely exhausted. “We’ve got a problem.”
“What now…?” Billy groaned, slumping lower in his chair.
“The hay that was just delivered.” Every single person in the room went perfectly still as Scotty looked at each one of us in turn. “It’s no good.”
“What do you mean it’s no good?”
I should’ve been relieved that the focus was off me, but when Troy turned around, the tension vibrating in his body was apparent. Shoulders up by his ears, he was bracing for impact.
“It’s gone sour.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit.
Hay turned sour when it hadn’t been dried properly. The moisture remaining in grass caused the bales to heat up and ferment. Eating it would make animals sick, I’d learned that at home, but that wasn’t the only problem. Hay bales could spontaneously catch alight as they got hotter and hotter during the fermentation process.
There was a shed full of all the feed Troy had been forced to order while the stock remained in the containment paddocks and somehow it had become a ticking time bomb.
“Sour…” Had I ever heard a man sound so heartbroken? He shook his head, slowly, then with greater and greater vehemence. “No… No…”
“Looks like the works not done for today.” Bronson tried for an upbeat tone and failed. He shoved his plate away and got to his feet, then looked down at Billy. “C’mon, numbnuts?—”
“No.” Troy’s mask didn’t fall then; it shattered as he stared at us just for a second. “I’ll sort it.”
His expression haunted me long after he’d left the room. Jolting at the sound of his car pulling away from the house, I turned to the others.
“So what do we do?” I asked. “Back home, you had to separate every bale and lay it out to cool off, even dry it out.”
The howl of the wind outside sent a great gust of hot air inside the house, making a mockery of that idea.
“It’s the same here,” Billy said, walking towards the door, then stopping to give my shoulder a squeeze. “But you don’t need to worry about that.”
“We’ve been dealing with dickhead feed suppliers for a long time before you arrived.” Bronson pulled his boots on. “She’ll be right.”
What did that even mean? Before I could ask that question, they all filed out of the house, leaving me standing there, alone.
“You’re OK!”
Dinner wasn’t happening. My guts felt like they were twisted in knots after that last conversation, so I messaged Mom, who instantly called me via FaceTime.
“I’m fine, Mom.” With a sigh, I made sure to smile reassuringly. “The fire didn’t get anywhere near us.”
“This time.” She looked too pale on the screen, but was that the glare of the morning sun or just the camera? “Mackenzie, I know this has been an amazing experience for you, but…”
Don’t say it, I thought to myself.Mom, don’t say it.
“Maybe it’s time to come home. At least then I’ll know you’re safe.” Her voice started to rise. “I was reading that there’s no professional firefighting service in Australia?”
“They have professional firefighters,” I replied, sinking back into my pillows. “They just rely on volunteers out of the major cities…”
As I explained the emergency services organisational structure to her, I knew something. I had a few months left of my trip and I wasn’t ready to go home. Nugget, the rescue, I saw all the animals inside my head, then the first koala I’d found injured in the forest. They were more than enough to make me want to see out the rest of my six months visa, but… Troy, cranky. Troy, quietly watching me, then looking away with a smile when I caught his eye across the table. Troy, squaring hisshoulders and assuming the next burden placed on top them without a word.
