Page 13

Indy smothered a yawn then rolled her shoulders, stretching out her neck.

Sitting on the steps of the breakout room, her bottom was growing numb and her wish to be inside playing pool clawed at her.

She ignored it by tuning into the night noises around her—the humming cicadas, the rustling of the treetops in the gentle breeze and the shushing of Blossom shu?ing around on her bedding.

Indy refrained from checking her watch for the fifth time in probably only a handful of minutes. He’d be here soon. Surely.

Twenty sheep. They were definitely in for a long night.

She should’ve told him to meet her out there.

Tense dramatic music built into a crescendo from inside the building where her Windale family were watching a blockbuster, but it was eating away at Indy’s nerves.

The longer she sat here, the greater the chance she had of someone discovering her and she wasn’t prepared with an excuse.

She was supposed to be in bed with a migraine.

Miraculous healing? One too many paracetamol tablets?

Or hint at something stronger? Indy jumped when the music exploded into its peak moment.

No, she didn’t need the women on Windale thinking she had any drug issues—prescription or illicit.

Footsteps against dirt and skittering rocks broke her reverie as Carter’s figure cut out against the darkness.

Indy leapt from her seat and, with blood flowing back into all extremities, she quickly strode forwards to meet him.

Grabbing his arm, she ignored his sharp intake of breath and steered him towards the netball courts.

‘You took forever!’

‘Sorry! Where are we going?’ At least he whispered.

‘Mara convinced Nova and the others to have a movie night to give us time to take the dirt bike out without being heard.’

The loud blasts of an explosion echoed behind them, and Indy couldn’t help grinning. The breakout room really did have a good sound system.

Carter tilted his head. ‘ Mission: Impossible ?’

‘Yippee-ki-yay,’ she replied. ‘Nova can’t say no to Bruce Willis.’

Carter laughed and Indy shushed him with a squeeze of his arm.

Why was she still clasping him? She dropped her grip as if she’d been electrocuted.

Stay focused . There were sheep to clean and she did want to get some sleep tonight.

She set off at a jog across the darkened footy field, aiming for the cluster of trees opposite the sheds. Carter followed with a groan.

‘How are we going to clean them?’ he said, interlocking his fingers above his head as they stepped in through the open side of the shed.

Indy swung her leg over the dirt bike, swiping up the bottle of Solvol that she’d left on the seat earlier. She tossed the bottle to Carter, who caught it neatly.

‘Heavy duty hand cleaner?’

She turned the dial on the handheld two-way radio, switching it on then clipping it to the collar of her T-shirt. ‘I read a blog where that worked on some lambs without damage to the wool, so I’m really hoping it’ll be the same for ewes, because it’s all I could find.’

‘What damage could it do?’

Indy shrugged. ‘Dry the wool out too much or the chemicals could impact on the classification when it comes to classing. It mightn’t seem like much, twenty fleeces out of seven thousand, but every single one counts.’

‘Let’s just hope for the best then.’ He hesitated. ‘I gather you don’t normally have to clean marking paint off sheep?’

‘When we use marking paint, we don’t cover the animal in it like this. And it generally wears off over a few months but we don’t have the luxury of time here.’

Indy grabbed the bike’s handles and moved as far forwards as she could. ‘We’re going to have to double on this bike, which isn’t made for doubling. But it’s either this or walking and we’ll have to go the long way back. Nova sleeps with the window open.’

‘Why not the quad?’

‘It won’t make it through the back track,’ she said. Carter hesitated and Indy let out a frustrated huff. ‘Tell me you’ve ridden a motorbike before?’

‘Yeah, but never double.’

‘Sit behind me and put your feet as far back on the pegs as you can without touching the hot parts. I’ll have to put my feet on yours.’

Her feet were still on the ground, holding the bike steady as he climbed on behind her.

Warmth radiated across her back as if a giant hot water bottle were embracing her.

His hands rested on her hips, adding a tingling sensation to the heat.

This was so different to having Emery or Mara sitting behind her.

She stomped on the kickstart and the bike grumbled to life beneath them.

She’d need all her focus to get to the shed without sending them both into the dirt.

A much needed distraction from the solid wall of hotness behind her.

She revved the engine a little. ‘Hope your balance is good.’

Sticking to the middle of the track where it was smoother, Indy went as fast as she dared.

The bike’s headlight was like a dim spotlight and didn’t give enough warning to avoid the dips and rocks.

She swore she’d have friction burns from Carter’s chest rubbing against her with every surprise movement of the bike.

His breath brushed her neck whenever it happened, sending tiny bumps racing across her skin.

His presence was so solid and consuming. She hated how good it was.

Indy parked the bike beneath the bowing branches of an English oak tree next to the old shearing shed. The oak’s bunches of silvery green leaves hid the bike from view.

‘I definitely should’ve ducked,’ Carter said, a hand to his face as he climbed from the back of the bike. Indy noticed the absence of his warmth instantly.

‘Sorry, should’ve given you a warning.’ She pushed out the stand with her foot and moved the leaves aside to head for the shed, needing some distance from him.

Noises from the ewes inside grew louder as they bleated and stomped against the bright glare of lights after Indy found the switch. She busied herself with grabbing buckets, scourers and other items they’d need.

‘Is every shearing shed this …’ Carter seemed to search for a word as he looked around. ‘Natural?’

Indy glanced up. Most of the internal beams and posts were made from tree trunks, a few had been replaced with the more modern-cut timber as time went on.

An old wool press from the early nineteen hundreds stood next to a modern one.

‘This is the original shearing shed on the property. It’s been updated over time, as you can tell, and a few years ago we ripped up the floor completely and laid a new one, but it’s a part of the property’s history. Of Nova’s history, I guess.’

‘It’s very cool.’

Indy breathed in the sweet smell of lanolin, breathing out when the stench of fresh manure joined it. She pushed the buckets into Carter’s chest and took the bottle of Solvol. ‘Tap’s outside to the left.’

‘On it.’

Indy dragged two sheep into different holding pens and when Carter came back, she directed him into one while she took the other. ‘Don’t be worried about grabbing them by the wool, you won’t rip it out. You’ll need a really firm grip to keep them in place.’

She secured her sheep using her thighs and squeezed some Solvol onto its back before balancing the bottle on the half wall between the pens. There was some grunting, bleating, thumping and shaking walls coming from Carter’s side.

‘You right?’ she called.

‘Yep,’ his voice came back, sounding terser than before.

Indy laughed lightly as she began scouring the ewe. The soap turned a deep green-blue as the colour started to lift from the wool. ‘Ooh, yes! It’s working.’ Her shoulders loosened and she scrubbed with more vigour.

Quiet fell as they cleaned their first ewes. Then a splashing from the bucket over the wall drew her attention.

‘One down,’ Carter called.

Indy picked up her own bucket, gritting her teeth under its weight.

She tried to slowly pour it over the unhappy woolly creature.

She gripped the ewe tighter with her legs and the animal thrashed and bleated.

Indy gasped as it pushed hard and the bucket flew high and she landed on her butt, hitting the wooden slats.

‘Ow!’ she complained as the sheep skirted around the furthest side of the pen.

‘Are you okay?’ Carter put his head over the dividing wall. His eyes reflected his worry and heat filled Indy’s cheeks. She was supposed to be the one who knew what she was doing.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ She glanced down, thankful her black T-shirt meant she avoided giving Carter a show and that her now soaked khaki shorts wouldn’t itch the way wet denim would.

The saloon-style doors on the pens swished and Carter was there, offering her his hand. ‘We might need to rethink this,’ he said, helping her to her feet. ‘One bucket per ewe mightn’t be enough and they’re a bitch to hold. We’ll be quicker if we work together.’

Indy considered him, the cowering, soapy ewe and her watch. ‘I think you’re right.’

‘I’ll get more water. You move my sheep out and put a fresh one in. We’ll finish washing off this one and scrub the others together.’

Indy pressed her lips tight. She’d been trying to avoid being in such close quarters with him after the bike ride, but dammit—she just needed these sheep clean and his way of doing it was better. As much as it killed her to admit.

‘Let’s get it done.’

Indy and Carter worked side by side, cautiously moving around each other to avoid unwanted bumping.

Indy quickly learnt his cues for when he needed to adjust his grip on the ewe or just how much soap he liked to lather on before he was sure the colour was gone enough to wash off.

By the seventh ewe, their rhythm was flowing seamlessly, the mood shifting from tense to calm, even comfortable, and allowing room for conversation.