Page 96 of Into These Eyes

Lucas

S am sits on the passenger seat, gazing through the windscreen. As I take the left-hand turn onto my property, she adjusts her weight to keep her balance.

Halfway down the long driveway, I jerk the Landcruiser to a sudden stop and stare at the cattle in the Hargraves’ adjoining paddock. On the other side of the boundary fence, it seems Hargraves’ entire herd is occupying this single paddock. That in itself is unusual. But that’s not why I stopped.

The cattle simply stand in the paddock. Not a single one eats the lush pasture. Instead, they drool. A calf limps over to its mother and presses against her.

Facing forward, I stare straight ahead as the last remnants of sunshine slips behind a hill. I want nothing more than to ignore what I’ve seen, to just drive home and pretend I haven’t witnessed anything out of the ordinary.

But I can’t do that.

It’s my job, my responsibility.

‘Fuck,’ I say under my breath.

Sam looks at me, her head cocked slightly to the side. I give her a pat, tell her to stay put and climb out into the already frigid air.

Opening the rear door, I find some latex gloves in the medical bag I keep in the back and head towards the boundary separating Bryce’s property from my own. After I duck through the post-and-rail fence, I remove my leather gloves and replace them with latex.

Stopping beside the calf I’d observed limping, I run a comforting hand over its face. Like all animals, it senses that I’m no threat and allows me to ease up its saliva-covered lips. And I discover exactly what I’d feared. Fluid-filled blisters.

This can’t be happening.

With reluctance, I run a hand over the calf’s shoulder, down its leg and lift its hoof off the ground. A raw, painful ulcer protrudes from the heel. I gently release the calf and take a step back.

‘Jesus.’

Dismayed, I stare at the miserable herd. Then my gaze shifts to the Hargraves’ homestead in the distance. I don’t want another confrontation with Bryce, but the choice isn’t mine.

Knowing the last thing I should do is drive onto the infected property, I leave Sam in the car, where she’ll be safe and warm until I return. At least the walk across the expansive field delays the unavoidable for a few more minutes.

By the time I stomp up the paved steps to Bryce’s front door, I’ve replaced the latex with my warm leather gloves. I press a hesitant finger to the doorbell. Inside, it chimes a pleasant tune, as if the Hargraves expect whoever visits to be a welcome guest.

They’re in for a rude surprise.

As footsteps approach, I steel myself.

The door swings open, and at the sight of me, Georgia’s face instantly hardens. Usually a pretty girl, when she’s not glaring at me that is, she crosses her arms over her chest, offering no greeting.

‘Just get your father,’ I say.

She gives me a death stare before turning on her heel and stomping around a corner.

‘Dad!’ she shouts. ‘The germaphobe freak’s here!’

Uncomfortable, but taking the open door as an invitation, I step into the warm, slate-tiled foyer. On the right, blue rosettes, ribbons and sashes cover the wall like wallpaper. To my left, photographs in various-sized frames litter the wall.

Curious, I move closer to the photos. Old black-and-whites show proud men and their sons with bulls draped in champion sashes.

As I move along the wall, the photos change to colour shots, right up to a recent picture of Georgia and Bryce smiling proudly as they flank a bull with a supreme-champion sash draped around its neck.

The bull I had to put down. The bull that’d caused all this animosity between us.

‘What the hell do you want?’ Bryce demands, striding into the foyer, Georgia right behind him.

‘There’s a problem with your cattle.’

Bryce squints with suspicion. ‘You been snooping around my land?’

‘Pretty hard to miss them. They’re right on our boundary.’

‘Bullshit. They’re nowhere near your property.’

I catch the guilty look on Georgia’s face as she bites her lip.

‘I might’ve moved them,’ she admits.

Bryce shoots her a glare, his mouth clamping into a thin line of disapproval. ‘Go make dinner,’ he barks at her, then turns to me. ‘Outside.’

I oblige, but flinch when Bryce slams the door with a loud crack. I turn and face the older man, dreading what’s coming.

‘Reported it yet?’ I ask, knowing full well Bryce has done no such thing.

‘You’re trespassing.’

‘Then I’ll have to.’ I pull my phone from my pocket, but of course, I can’t unlock the damn thing without taking off a glove.

And from the way Bryce is acting, I don’t want to risk any chance my bare hand might come into contact with him.

He’s old and sure as hell isn’t in great shape.

When it comes to me, he’s the very definition of danger.

I knew all this before I even reached for the phone, but I’d hoped he’d come to his senses.

Maybe I can fool him by pretending to scroll through my contacts and—

He snatches the phone from my hand, flings it to the pavers and crushes it under his boot.

‘What the fuck?’

Bryce advances on me, and I back up, not wanting him to touch me.

‘It’s not enough that you killed Georgia’s prized bull?’ he accuses.

‘That bull was riddled with cancer and you know it. There was nothing to do but put it out of its misery.’

With real menace, Bryce steps right into my personal space and grabs my parka before I have a chance to escape.

‘How about I put you out of your misery, you goddamned freak?’

I jerk out of his grasp, just managing to keep my balance as my foot catches the edge of the step behind me. ‘Is that a threat?’

‘You bet your fucking life it is,’ he says, his face red with rage.

Calm on the outside, my heart’s thundering like a goddamn jackhammer. I’ve never seen him like this, not even when I’d injected Georgia’s bull with the lethal dose of Phenobarbital. He’d been angry, yes, but he didn’t have this wild, desperate look his eyes.

‘You know I’m legally obligated to report this, Bryce. So are you.’

‘Get the fuck off my property.’

I back down the steps, the unease in my chest building. Still, I can’t let Bryce know he’s rattled me. ‘You’ve got until I get home to do the right thing.’

I turn, and even though my whole body coils with tension, even though every instinct tells me to run, I slowly amble towards my property in the distance.