Runaway Summer {Sam}

[Tiggs]

---

Oh yes, Sam had been right about that. For the next fortnight, Molly was full of scorn for the man. In her mind, he'd taken advantage of her in her weak state, and there was no forgiving that. If she couldn't avoid him, she was scowling at him.

Waking up that day had been a confusing affair. She'd been stiff from sleeping in just an awkward position, and then when she realised her rest was Sam rather than her usual feather-filled pillow, all Hell broke loose. A very quiet Hell. She'd sent him away, sat on her own for a while and when he was preoccupied with the puppies, she snuck out of the hut to take care of her daily duties. She'd limited conversation with the man to the bare essentials, so the two had barely spoken in two weeks.

At this present time, she had just double-timed it through the hut after waking some time in the afternoon. The pups were still being weaned, and were becoming more tiresome every day. After another night shift, she was dead on her feet, but things still needed tending to, so she had to soldier on no matter how much she might want to curl up under the covers and sleep. She wasn't sure where Sam was at the present time, but the pups were fine alone, and she could see which chores Sam had already completed - which was most of them - from the cleanly state of the hut and surrounding structures.

Peering into the dingo's makeshift kennel of wood and chicken wire, Molly could see her food was getting low. Careful to avoid startling the wild dog - who had made herself a reputation for being a foul-tempered soul - Molly took the bowl used for food from the enclosure, closed the door behind her and went to fill it.

She had to stifle a yawn as she returned, and it was then that the sleep deprivation really made its effects known. The dingo usually snarled and growled and made a show of herdispleasure at a human being so close, and Molly had become desensitised. Kneeling, she opened the door and reached in with the bowl. All of a sudden, and too fast for Molly to avoid, the dingo lunged forward and snapped her teeth down on Molly's hand.

The woman let out a short scream, snatching her hand back and hastily fumbling with the door to shut it again. The dingo growled from inside the cage, looking proud at her accomplishment. Molly was not pleased in the slightest. The teeth had broken the skin in several places, and blood was running freely. Not to mention the pain that accompanied it. Tears welled in her eyes, and she managed enough sense to hold her hand high as she retreated to the hut.

She made quite a clatter, searching for the first aid kit, and blood was readily trickling down her forearm and dripping from her elbow. Mercifully the shirt she wore was sleeveless, but she was going to have to soak the jeans as one or two drops had fallen on the thigh. She could not seem to keep herself from crying. They were quiet tears, frustration and pain combined. She'd made a stupid mistake, and she'd been hurt from it. Molly sniffed to keep her nose from running, and was too busy hunting fruitlessly for the first aid kit to notice Sam's arrival.

[tingara]

Underneath him Cas tossed his head impatiently, wanting Sam to engage the brumbies on the small plateau down bellow. Sam pulled back on the reins as he eyed up the small herd grazing lazily in the early morning light. The stallion was the only remarkable horse in the small mob; a deep liver chestnut with a flaxen mane. It was tempting to round him up, the man even had the rope at the ready; a fact which made his horse tense in anticipation but common sense told him no. Already Sam had his hands full with training up his palomino brumby mare and her offspring as well as a bunch of roughies with Jason Mannering and Tom Rawlinson.

With a sigh, the man pulled his bay stallion away from their vantage point and urged him back the way they’d come. To make it up to Cas, Sam urged him into a flat out gallop as soon as the snowgum forest turned to snowgrass plain. The pair raced to the Cascade Creek and along it they ran all the way back to the hut. By the time they had slowed both man and horse were lathered with sweat from the exertion and the warmth of the morning.

As he untacked the bay stallion a scream instantly caught Sam’s attention. ”Oh Jesus. Molly!” he called out, bolting from where his horse was tethered to the hut. Distinct clattering instantly gave away where the woman was and in the man burst, worry evident on his face which was only increased tenfold at the sight of blood dripping down her arm. Noticing her fruitless search for what he quickly scurried off to help find it. It didn’t take long before he came back with it in his hands. ”Molly sit down and let me take a look,” Sam said gently, gesturing to a chair.

[Tiggs]

Molly gave a start as Sam spoke, and her fright lingered for a moment. Before he felt the need to comfort her, she pulled herself together, and sat down in the chair indicated. Still keeping her hand up, forearm at a vertical, she settled in the chair and folded her legs up in front of her, knees to her chest. She sniffed again, wiping her cheeks on her knee.

She glanced to Sam, her expression guarded. She trusted him enough to help her, but still not enough to feel comfortable in his presence. Something about him always had her second-guessing, and she was generally unsure of what to do about it. She’d started to think about finding a droving position elsewhere, then she wouldn’t be in this mess, but it was the devil you knew, or the devil you didn’t. What was to guarantee that if she worked with other men, she would be any more happy?

Sam confused her, but she at least knew he was not the worst man out there – and she’d met a fair few of them so she knew that for certain. On one hand Sam was a great horseman, and unlike most men, he needed no convincing to help others in need. She wouldn’t go so far as to say he was selfless, but he had a larger dose of it than most. But on the other hand, Sam was a bloke. He might treat her with more politeness than most, but given the chance he would flirt, and she knew if she ever made the mistake of responding, even in jest, he would take advantage of that.

Maybe that was the best way to deal with Sam. Treat him as if he were two people; the colleague and the man. Right now though, he was projecting the side of him that she trusted. Hugging her legs with her good arm – her injured one still held up for Sam – she rested her chin on her knee in an almost dejected fashion and stared off to the corner of the hut. She couldn’t deal with it right now if he berated her for being stupid, she hoped he would be content to help her now and ask about it later.

[tingara]

”Hey, it’s okay. It’s just a bite; you’re not the only one who’s had it happen to them. I’ve been the unfortunate victim of a dingo too,” Sam tried to joke reassuringly at the sight of Molly in tears. Gently and with great care not to move it in any way that would aggravate the pain, the man wiped away the blood with a cloth then bandaged her hand with some gauze from the first aid kit. ”There, good as new.” When he was done his hand couldn’t help but linger on the woman’s. When he noticed what he was doing he blushed profusely before pulling it quickly away.

”Sorry,” he muttered, leaving the hut and striding to the creek to wash the blood off his hands. Inwardly Sam berated himself for his lingering hands. Even simple thing like that could mean the progress he’d made with Molly be completely knocked back to where he’d started. Why hadn’t he given up already, what so different about this woman that caused Sam to persevere? No one could answer that question, least of all Sam.

[Tiggs]

‘Just a bite’ might have been a comforting note if Molly had not been so embarrassed. It had been completely her fault, and now she would be impaired for the length of time it would take to heal!

Sam was careful – as usual – as he cleaned and wrapped the wound, and she surfaced enough from her self-depreciating wallow to appreciate those warm and sensitive hands. Those were his best feature. He could calm nervous critters and silly distraught girls alike with those lovely gentle hands.

She almost gagged, turning away from him as she flushed a deep red. She had been avoiding him so much recently, that it had been a while since she lapsed like that. Sam could get to her, and it was only proven by the way she enjoyed his lingering touch.

It must be the shock of being bitten, she reasoned, that he got so far through her defences this time. Thankfully he muttered an apology and left, and she was able to sit in silence and stare at the knotholes in the floorboards while she painstakingly reconstructed those walls that kept him out.

When she resurfaced, Sam had not returned, but she could still feel that lingering tingle on her fingertips where he had brushed them as he withdrew his hand.

Molly scolded herself. A simple weakness in a time of confusion and pain. She wouldn’t make the mistake again. She would not think of his hands again, and how right they had felt in hers.

[tingara]

His face was dark but his thoughts were darker. Over the adult dingo’s pen Sam stood, looking at her and shaking his head. She had bitten Molly and was showing no signs of getting used to her human company, as well as no signs that she was ever going to recover full from the trauma of giving birth. The animal was still incredibly thin, weak and looked thoroughly sick and miserable. Sam was conflicted; there was no point in releasing her to a slow death but there was also no way he could keep her around in a hope that she’d get better both health wise and personality wise.

There was only one thing to do and the man didn’t like it one bit. Maybe Molly would know what to do. Still shaking his head and rubbing a hand over his chin Sam strode back into the hut in search of the stockwoman. ”I don’t know what to do with her Molly,” he sighed, tipping his head out the window and in the direction of the Dingo’s pen. ”There’s only one thing I can think of and that’s putting her down.”

[Tiggs]

Molly glanced up from the wooden counter where she was cleaning plates and tins in a metal bowl. Since she had removed the dressing from the dingo bite, she had a lot of chores to catch up on. She barely winced as Sam came into the hut, glancing up as he came into her field of view. She knew what he was talking about when he glanced out the window, and she gave an understanding nod.

It was an old conversation. The dingo was more hassle than she was worth – and her only worthwhile point was that it was cruel to kill her needlessly. But after the bite, Molly had become less sympathetic, and so Sam’s words did not come as much of a shock. “She’s not improving.” She replied, drying the billycan with a ragged old towel and putting it back with the rest. She went to stand beside Sam – carefully maintaining a distance of six inches – and looked out the window at the canine hunkering in her cage. “I think it might be best – we can’t let her free, and we can’t keep her caged up.” She said, echoing Sam’s thoughts.

[tingara]

It was a shame the Dingo may have to be put down. The two humans may not miss her all that much but Lucas would and Sam knew it. The wolf-like dog would have to be locked up while the wild one was dealt with. He was attached to the dingo and his owner could tell, once the deed was done the Tamaskan would not be happy. At least there were still the puppies; all five of them border lining on more trouble than they were worth.

Before the bite Molly had been more sympathetic towards the wild dog but not now. Her answer came quickly and Sam whole heartedly agreed; the dingo was not improving in health or attitude. ”You’re right, absolutely right. No improvement at all, we can’t keep her cooped up and she’s sick,” the man sighed, noting the distance between himself and the woman. How much he’d give just to stand a little closer. ”Are there still rounds for the rifle in the living area cupboard?” Sam asked over his shoulder as he ventured off in search of the rifle.

[Tiggs]

Molly could tell the man was not happy about the decision. Sam was naturally sympathetic towards all animals, and even the death of the dingo bothered him. She watched silently as he went to fetch the rifle, forgetting to immediately answer the question. Was she unfair to Sam? She treated him with suspicion in everything, as if he might whistle a different tune if she gave him any grace.

But Sam had been consistent since she had known him, and showed no signs that he acted anything other than naturally for him. She sighed out through her nose, and came back to herself when she heard Sam opening cupboard doors. She followed him through the hut and passed him to a beaten old set of drawers. Opening the top drawer, she took a box from it and picked open the lid with nimble fingers.

“Sam?” She took him the box, offering it out at arm’s length. Usually she avoided eye contact, but she found the occasion important enough to brave it. She was used to looking up at men, and she tilted her head a little to meet his medium-blue eyes with her hazel-brown ones. “I’m sorry.” She said, and after a moment, dropped her gaze and gestured to the rifle. “That you have to do this.” She clarified, though she had a niggling feeling she wanted him to take more from the apology than she implied. “Do you want me to…?” She trailed off. Molly didn’t like to use guns, but if it would save Sam the heartache of doing it himself, she could brave it.

[tingara]

Of course Sam wasn’t happy at all with having to kill the dingo. She was the mother of the pups that were running around his feet and had done nothing out of the ordinary for one of her kind. This was all Lucas’ fault and as soon as winter came his owner was having him neutered at once. It all seemed so unfair; especially that she could not be re-released back to her home where she belonged. Most other wranglers would have had a much different attitude but not Sam, the waste of a life, even that of an animal that was considered a post to most, was still something that could get to him.

The rifle was not hard to find and as his eyes wandered over it the man hesitated in picking it up. He shook his head in frustration and extended had hand to grasp it and lift it from its resting place. The gun represented a bleak future for the she-dingo, the cold wood and metal weapon would be what ended her life. As he turned around, gun in hand, Sam came face to face with Molly holding the box of ammunition out to him. He had known she was there from her voice but what was shocking was that she was actually looking him the eye.

For a moment the wrangler stood opposite Molly with a weak but warm smile on his face. Just with that simple gesture he felt comforted that no matter what he had to do, maybe, just maybe, the woman would be there to support him like she was at that moment. ”Thanks Molly,” he said softly, taking the rounds and loading the rifle.

”It’s alright,” Sam said in answer to her apology and question. ”I’ll do it.” With that the man sighed and strode out the door, a defeated look on his face. A few moments later the loud crack of gunfire echoed throughout the bush. The ringing echoes of the shot was drowned out by birds as they screeched their fright.