Dozing Away the Day [Sam]

[Tiggs]

The journey up the creek was significantly less troublesome than the last time she had come this way. Moya walked sedately along the grassy edge of the creek while Harvey darted in and out of bushes, returning every so often when Molly called him back. The ground here was open, and up in the distance she could see the Cascade hut, pale horses grazing in it’s paddocks announcing at least one inhabitant.

Molly tipped back the brim of her hat, squinting through the brightness of spring sunshine toward the squat wooden building. It was better maintained than the grotty places she’d spent last year’s cattle-driving season in, so it was a relief that she’d be able to stay here for a while. The contract gave her a good few months here tending cattle before she was to go further north up to Dead Horse.

At the tethering rail, she dismounted and tied Moya. The mare blinked at her surroundings, and greeted the pregnant palomino mare and the creamy two-year-old. The grey mare was the sociable sort, and with a lack of stallions around to bother her while she was in season, she would be quite happy in this patch of shade until Molly found an occupant and found out where she could put her horse to pasture.

Harvey was eying up a rather large dog on the porch, and so Molly slipped a choke-chain around his neck and tied her dog far away from the horses and the other dog. The wolfish beast lounging on the porch seemed calm enough, but Harvey had a reputation. The strawberry-blond woman stepped up onto the porch and knelt to fuss the large dog. “Well aren’t you a beaut? Where’s your bloke then, eh?” A knock on the door to the building yielded no answer, so Molly sat herself on the porch steps and petted the large dog while she waited for some sign of human life.

Looking over at the palomino and two-year-old, Molly wondered if the two belonged to just one man. The cremello certainly bore a resemblance to the palomino, and Molly deduced they were mother and daughter. Whoever lived here was certainly lucky to have the pair. The mare had the tell-tale signs of being born feral, but the creamy was much better grown, and both their coats were well-groomed.

Smiling, the young woman leaned back on the porch railing, resting her head against it and closing her eyes. It was a good sign that the horses were well cared for – she might just learn to like it here. With the sound of bush birds serenading her with chirps and whistles, she fell into a doze.

[tingara]

Underneath the stockman his bay stallion fidgeted, pranced and pulled at the reins. The horse was nervous and excited; happy to be out for a run in the afternoon sunshine with hopes of seeing and chasing brumbies. While Cas wanted to hunt Sam Breen had other ideas. The man wanted to get back to his seasonal home and check on the heavily pregnant mare that was waiting for him. In fact he was urgent to get back, what if Nutsy had gone into labour while he wasn’t there? Sam couldn’t help but remember Blinky’s arrival into the world and it made him nervous to leave the brumby mare alone for too long.

The man urged his bay stallion on with a sharp dig in the ribs. Just for fun Cas responded by going as fast as he could over the flat ground, spurred on by Sam’s shouts of encouragement. The sound or pounding hooves and heavy breathing filled both man and horse’s ears. To both there was nothing better. In no time at all the back of the hut came into view, shabby glass windows glittering in the sunshine. The pair stopped just behind a small horse and cattle feed shed and soon Cas was untacked, brushed and had a rope halter around his head.

Sam led the Waler cross out to the front of the hut and was surprised to see a new horse tethered to one of the hitching posts. It took him a while before he recognised the mare; it was that woman he’d met way back at Cascade Creek. Molly Johns, he was sure that was her name. The man tied Cas loosely to Nutsy and Blinky’s paddock fence before spotting the woman’s dog tied a little way away and then the woman herself dozing on the porch, Lucas happily asleep next to her.

”Bloody useless guard dog,” the man chuckled to himself. Sam strode over to where Molly was napping, adjusted his t-shirt and jeans and then coughed to try and wake her up. ”G’day, how long have you been here snoozing?” he asked cheerily with a welcoming smile upon his face.

[Tiggs]

Molly had slipped into a dream of mismatched images and memories. One moment she was watching brumbies gallop together like a flock of birds across the plain and the next she was tending to feed and water for Moya. Occasionally there would be the flash of a bad memory, and it was after one of these, with a man leering down at her while she was cornered did Sam Breen clear his throat.

Molly jumped, snatching her hat from her head and glaring up. She got quickly to her feet, stepping back from the man before dusting off her jeans. Warily turning her gaze away, she looked to the sky with a squint. “Not more than an hour.” She guesstimated by the sun’s change in position. She steeled herself and tried not to frown. Frowning at men earned you no friends, and aside from his failed attempt to catch a silver brumby last year, he hadn’t done much wrong to deserve her scorn.

The simple fact he was a man earned him enough, and that earnest smile made her feel queasy. She’d seen smiles like that before, wherever there wasn’t a leer, but it was always the ones who pretended to be nice that turned out to be the worst of them. As a woman in the High Country surrounded by men who spend the better part of three out of four seasons without female company, she had come to the sweeping generalisation that all men were pigs, and they all wanted one thing.

Tipping her chin up in an almost defiant gesture, she spoke to him without even the hint of a smile. From what Sam had seen of her already, it would be easy for him to come to the conclusion that she never smiled. In the face of men, she very rarely did. “My name is Molly Johns, we met briefly last year, though if you gave your name it escapes me now.” There was no apology in her tone – she found it best to allow men to think that she could not remember their names even if she could – and she held out her hand to shake, glad that Harvey was tied elsewhere so he couldn’t embarrass her this time.

“I’ve been hired to tend cattle in this region for a few months. I’ll be staying here, so might I enquire where I may turn out my mare and have a place for me to sleep?” She braced for the customary ‘you can sleep in my bed, Sheila’, or something suitably crude. Men, in her experience, could not keep their minds to themselves, and they were worse when there were more men folk around to jeer and encourage. Thankfully it was just her and Sam here, though to be alone with a strong man was hardly ever a good thing.

[tingara]

The friendly smile on Sam’s face quickly faded and the icy reception he was getting from Molly. For a moment he was confused and left trying to think as to exactly what he had done to deserve it. There was the failed brumby catch but, unless she had really wanted that horse and was now angry at him for letting it go, it was hardly a reason to be so cold.

In fact he was rather taken aback by the girl that he didn’t know what to do for a moment. Her sheer defiance and attitude towards him had served well to kill whatever enthusiasm Sam had felt at meeting her again. He had been about to say something along the lines of ‘Nice to see you again Molly,’ but for the moment he stayed quiet and let the woman do the talking. ”Nice to meet you, Samuel Breen, most people just call me Sam,” he said formally, shaking her offered hand.

”Ahh cattle eh? You enjoy stock work? I’m more a wrangler me’self, grew up in a family of stockmen though so if you need help let me know,” he rattled on in an attempt to make polite conversation. ”Lets see, there’s my bed, which is uhh on the floor in front of the fire so that leaves any of the normal beds free. Cas, Nutsy, Blinky and I were the only ones up here until you and your fine grey mare turned up,” Sam remarked lightly, his gaze wandering over to admire the conformation of Molly’s horse. ”You can put your mare with the palomino and the cremello if you want to.”

[Tiggs]

Putting a stopper in Sam’s sunny demeanour should have made her guilty, but the less he warmed to her, the better. Men all too often complained she ‘led them on’ even when she was just being friendly. Better to make it clear she was not interested in even that. “I grew up working cattle – I get by.” She glanced to the door, and stepped through as he motioned toward his bed in the main room.

“I’ll set up my belongings in one of the other rooms.” She told him, stepping back down the porch steps and retrieving her pack from Moya’s saddle. She petted the mare’s neck and returned to the hut, passing Sam and making her way to the door she assumed to lead to the rooms at the back of the hut.

She called back to the man, “Moya – my grey – is the quiet type. She’ll be welcome with the golden and the creamy?” She asked, poking her head in the furthest room from the living area, approving of the windows on two of the four walls. That should give her plenty of light. “I’ll have this one.” She stepped in and placed her bag at the foot of the cot, sitting on it to untie her bedroll.

[tingara]

Sam watched Molly go about getting herself unpacked and set up in the small hut. He didn’t dare move from just outside the door in case that caused more unpleasantness between the two of them, though he was still confused as to where it had come from in the first place. ”Need any help?” the man offered awkwardly, still not sure whether he should move or not.

”Okay never mind,” there hadn’t been that much he could have helped with anyway he assured himself. He could always put her mare away for her, hopefully that would get things heading in a more friendly direction. Sam would show her he was useful, that would impress her (he hoped). ”Yeah if she’s quiet then she should get on well with Nutsy and Blinky. The pair of ‘em wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’ll put her away for you,” the man called from outside, already moving towards the grey mare.

”Hey Moya,” Sam greeted the mare with a soft voice, running his hands gently along the length of her neck and giving her a quick scratch behind the ears. The horse was exceptionally built, perfect for cattle work. Molly had an eye for horses, that much was evident from Moya. Even after the chilly greeting he’d gotten from her before he liked her already. Anyone who knew horses was a friend of Sam’s as far as he was concerned.

As the man untacked and led the mare to her paddock she was watched eagerly by the horse hitched on the side. Cas had smelt the mare’s heat while he had been waiting for his man. Now all his attention was focused on the grey, ears pricked forwardly eagerly, head held high and lip curled back at her scent. The bay stallion whinnied in welcome to her and tugged at the rope that was keeping him so cruelly away from Moya. ”Settle down ya idiot,” Sam laughed as he ducked out of the paddock.

”Once you’re settled do you want to maybe go for a ride with me? I got a mare in foal to Cas over there that belongs to a mate of mine that I want to check up on. You’re welcome to come,” the man suggested lightly, still trying to lift the mood to friendly.

[Tiggs]

Molly ignored his offer of help to unpack. What was there really to unpack? She started to make a protest that Moya wouldn’t like him to put her away but that would be a lie. She shoved the rest of her clothes unceremoniously into a drawer and scuttled outside. Sam was already leading Moya, and the grey followed happily with the lead rope slack between them. She would trust anyone that mare.

Molly leaned in the doorway to the hut and watched the wrangler lead Moya into the paddock with the other two. Despite wanting to dislike everything about the man out of principle, she had to admit he was good with the horses. Moya greeted the other mare and filly and after a tense moment for Molly, she realised Sam was right about the two being friendly. Blinky and Nutsy, eh? She wondered which was which.

The sound of the stallion calling to Moya made her frown, but so long as he was kept away from her, she couldn’t complain. Moya returned the interest with a sweet whinny, but returned to grazing.

Molly glanced to Sam at his offer, but gazed at the mares in the paddock while she spoke. “Not today, Moya and I have walked a fair way – I’d like to rub her down and get an early night.” The rebuff was cool, but not overly strong. She wanted him to think she was unavailable, but she didn’t want to be despised. “Where do you keep your brushes? One of mine broke a few nights back.” Moya had stood on her pack, breaking the brush into useless halves. She loved her mare dearly, but she could be clumsy at times.

[tingara]

”Okie dokie,” Sam answered her rebuff casually, trying not to let the disappointment show on his face. ”You sure? There’s a good chance you’ll get to see a foal come into the world,” he added hopefully. He should have understood, the journey up was long and tiring but for the moment the man didn’t think of that. ”Uhh my brushes are scattered all over the place,” he laughed, grinning apologetically.

In a flash he as off and searching for them around the hut. Until Molly had shown up the hut had been his to do what he pleased in, mainly leave his stuff lying all over the place. At last he found one underneath the pillow of his bedroll; there were teeth marks on one end of it which meant it was Blinky’s brush. The filly had taken to chewing and wind sucking things lately; two habits Sam was working on getting her out of.

”Here,” he offered Molly, ”It’s a bit chewed but it will do the job.” He gave the woman another broad smile before leading the way out to the horses. Sam had been intending to work with Blinky before the new arrival. The man cooed to the cremello filly and began to rub her legs and check on her feet.

Outside the fence, still tethered in place, Cas began to grow fidgety. The stallion pawed the ground restlessly and pulled and the rope. He wanted to greet Moya but his attempts to get free were fruitless. Again the bay called to her, nose extended, willing her to come over so he could greet her properly.

[Tiggs]

A foaling? That almost swayed her. She’d never seen one before. She chewed her lip in deliberation but her resolve to refuse was made when he scurried off to retrieve his brushes. No, she shouldn’t be humouring him, and she doubted she’d get to see the foaling anyway.

Then he returned with the brush, she took it with muttered thanks and ducked into the paddock through the rails. Moya lifted her head and ambled over, and Molly started to brush away the dust and dried sweat from her dappled hide. Behind her, Sam fussed with the cremello and while Molly was surreptitiously watching out of the corner of her eye, the palomino mare had come up beside her.

Moya greeted her with a nicker, but Kessa – or Nutsy as the man called her – was more interested in Molly. What a strange man. Not since she had been caught by Sam had she smelt a man quite as strange as this. Boldly, she sniffed at the man’s face. He seemed surprised, and Kessa nickered her amusement. The man turned from the grey to stroke her nose, and the pregnant mare lipped at his fingers. A strange man indeed. What tiny graspers! Not like Sam’s big paws.

Kessa tossed her head and whinnied, then moved past the strange man and the grey mare to slurp from the trough having performed her investigation. Molly huffed in amusement and watched the golden mare for a moment more before returning to grooming Moya.

The dappled mare was quite content to hang her head low while Molly groomed her. The mare loved these moments where Molly would rub those scratchy things over her. It was much better than when another horse groomed her.

That stallion though. She lifted her head to trumpet her latest reply, watching him with a lingering keenness. She wouldn’t mind if he gave her a scratch or two. She gave another whinny, curious this time. Molly grumbled under her breath and touching the mares chin as if there was a lead rope attached there, she led her mare to the far end of the paddock to finish the grooming.

“What are you thinking, hmm?” She murmured to Moya while she teased out tangles in her mane. “He’s not your type. He might look kind and honest, but he’s only after one thing and you know it.” She petted her mare’s dappled shoulder while the horse looked longingly toward the bay stallion. “I know girly, I know, but if you give in, you’ll be giving him what he wants.”

She glanced to Sam, still playing with the cremello filly. “Good stock,” she mumbled more to herself. Watching the man over Moya’s back, she felt like she was spying. But the way he handled the filly; and the mare when she trotted over, chin dripping. Not all men gave this much attention to their horses. Usually they looked after them enough to do a job, but no more. There was no affection between men and their beasts. All their love was reserved for money.

But Sam. Was he different? Her hands had stilled on Moya’s neck and she was watching the man for a good few minutes before Moya moved away. Snapping back to her senses, she delved for a band in her pocket and tied her short hair back in a scruffy tail. Grabbing the brush, she made her way back up the paddock, eyeing Moya as she put her head over the fence and strained her nose toward the bay stallion. It seemed her mare was slowly warming to the good-looking male.

Fiddling with the brush’s bristles, she joined Sam with his two mares. “Moya’s in season – your boy is tied tight? I don’t plan to breed her.” She handed the brush back to him and petted the palomino, gradually working her hands to her swollen abdomen. Despite herself, her lip curled on one side. “When is she due?” She asked, her first question posed to him that even resembled small-talk.

[tingara]

For the first time since she and he had met, Sam was distracted from Molly. It wasn’t uncommon for the man to forget everything around him when he was working with his horses. His large hands ran over Blinky’s lithe legs as he checked them over for any cuts or damage. Once he was satisfied the young filly was in good health he moved on to Nutsy. The palomino mare’s stomach bulged with foal and Sam couldn’t resist touching it. In a few weeks there would be a spindly legged little horse running about and, not that he’d admit it was what he truly thought, foals were so cute.

”Huh, oh thanks, he likes to think so too,” the man smiled at the woman’s compliment. Maybe things weren’t going to be too bad between them after all. ”Yeah he’s tied pretty good, no way he’ll escape from there until I put him away,” Sam answered confidently, glancing at Cas whose intentions were pretty clear from the way he pulled at the rope that held him.

”Hey come here for a moment,” the man said suddenly, clearly excited. Without thinking he took Molly’s hand and placed it gently on the pregnant palomino’s belly. ”Feel that? That’s the foal kicking,” he chattered elatedly, not realising he was still holding Molly’s hand in place with his own.