The Shearing Gun (6 page)

He shrugged. “I guess it boils down to money.”

“Money? Out here?”

I watched him as he gazed out on the land I owned. “I was two years into my university course when my parents found out I was gay.”

“Ah.” Enlightenment dawned. Maybe we were more similar than I expected.

“Yes,” he agreed with a hint of a smile. “Words were thrown about in anger, and my mother, who has the money in my family and all the social connections, told me she wouldn’t support me through medical school just so that I could waltz off with some guy and embarrass her. I told her she could stuff her money, and I would pay for myself. I signed this government contract the next day that says that I promise to work in the rural areas of Australia, where they can’t get doctors, for the same amount of time that the government supported me through school.”

I winced at the thought. Didn’t some doctors study for ten years? “So you’re here under sufferance, then?”

He winked at me. “Not exactly. About a week after our fight, my mother found out it was rather fashionable to have a gay son and tried to bring me back to the bosom of the family. But it was too late. I rather enjoyed telling her where she could stick her money, and now she turns a slight shade of pale every time someone compliments her on her successful son. It irks her to know I did it all myself.”

I laughed out loud, but the Doc hadn’t finished his story.

“So, once I was qualified, she tried to set it up with her connections so that I could work somewhere exotic and exciting. Somewhere with an airport so she could fly in when she wanted, and somewhere that had a guest room and several maids for service. I had no intention of pandering to her wants, so I looked down the list of towns in need, decided that rural Western Australia was about the farthest I could get away from her in Melbourne, then picked the town with the worst sounding name. Dumbleyung, Goomalling, and Mukinbudin were all my first choices and, lucky for me, Doctor Larsen welcomed me with open arms. So now when my mother is out in society, and someone asks about her son who’s a doctor, she has to tell them that I work in Dumbleyung instead of the Gold Coast or King Island.”

I roared with laughter, picturing a pearl-clad older lady holding a martini in one hand and a white poodle in the other, telling everyone that her son was a doctor—in Dumbleyung. Us poor Dumbleyungians had a pretty bad name to live down.

We grinned at each other. He was cute and funny and that gave me a funny feeling in my stomach.

No fishing, Hank!

Chapter 5

M
IDDY
TURNED
up midmorning, and I introduced the two men.

“Doc, this is my best mate, David MacDonald. He’ll answer to Dave, Davo, or Middy. He owns a spread a little south of Wickepin and he’s come to check out my rams this morning.” Middy stepped forward with his arm out and shook Elliot’s hand while I continued. “And this is Doc Elliot. He’s a doctor in town with Doc Larsen. He has a real wanker of a surname that I haven’t been able to remember, so I just call him Doc. We met last week when your arsehole brother broke my collarbone, and now the kind Doc came out to give me a hand while I’m laid up.”

Middy accepted Elliot’s presence without comment. It was Elliot who looked at Middy in surprise. “Your brother?”

Middy spat on the ground and mumbled something. He was a shy one, but a top bloke. He had a bit of a stutter, which is why he didn’t open his mouth all that much. I came to his rescue. “Yeah, remember I told you it was Big D MacDonald that started it?”

Elliot looked puzzled for a moment, but then it was obvious he got the connection. He had to have a brain in order to be a doctor, so he got the joke straightaway. “Middy? As in Mid D? With Big D and Mid D, I guess there’s a Little D too?”

Middy ducked his head in embarrassment and spoke in his soft manner. “Y-y-yeah. D-d-darren, Dave and Daniel.”

I chuckled. “Unfortunately Little D ended up to be the biggest, so there’s a bit of confusion at times.”

We all laughed, and I whistled for Buck to leave Middy’s bitch, Dancer, alone. The two of them still had to sniff each other from top to tail every time they met. We wandered over to the holding pens and checked out the rams. Middy walked around the perimeter and looked them over, occasionally reaching out to take a closer look at a fleece, as I explained to Elliot.

“The rams here with the blue tags are all two-year olds I bred from my best ewes. The yellow tags are from Dad’s place, and the couple you see with the red tags are the rams I bought my first year here, so they’re the fathers of the blue-tagged rams. I’ll be choosing a couple of blue-tags today that I’ll put in with my ewes for spring lambing. Middy here is going to choose a couple for his place. Dad wants to sell some of his stock off, so we need to separate them all out.”

Middy wandered back over. “Decent st-stock there, Hank.”

I clapped him on the back in thanks, and we set to work. I sent Elliot into the pen with a stern warning to watch out for horns, and had him push the stock up to the small, single-corridor race. At the end of the race were two gates. As the rams moved up, Middy and I checked them over. I judged the quality of their fleece, checked their features for deformations, and examined the size of their testicles, satisfied that my gamble was paying off. I’d hand selected the lambs for castration and put a lot of effort into picking the best lambs to remain as rams.

The ones tagged with yellow were pushed into the pen on the right for Paul to sort later. I was only interested in my stock.

My rams were specially tagged with numbers—blue plastic tags numbered with three digits and the prefix W. I looked out for W002 and W003, and sure enough, when they came through the race, they were two of the best. Middy saw me checking the numbers.

“Gonna t-t-tell me about it?”

I gave a little self-conscious shrug. “These two are Lilly’s.”

Middy didn’t need any further explanation, but to my humiliation, Elliot heard and asked, “Lilly?”

I refused to answer so Middy told Elliot, “Hank here has a man-crush on one p-particular sheep of his. He even kn-knows which of the flock are her babies.”

Completely mortified now, I swung out with my fist, but Middy knew it was coming and blocked it. “Arsehole,” I cried. “I do not have a man-crush on a fucking sheep. She is my best fucking stock, and I would be fucking irresponsible not to utilize that, wouldn’t I? She throws the best fucking fleeces every year, and the quality of those two rams shows you it’s in her bloodline.”

Middy laughed and danced away from my reach. “As I s-s-said. You love that fucking animal.”

I glared at my so-called best mate as Elliot teased from behind me, “Aww. Isn’t that sweet? I’m sure you make the cutest couple.”

“Watch yourself, Quackle,” I threw back at him softly. He blushed and shut up.

M
IDDY
SELECTED
his two choices, and we loaded them on his trailer, and he waved as he left. He wasn’t even out of sight when I saw Paul’s vehicle approaching from the opposite direction.

“Come on, Quackle,” I called. “My brother’s here, and I need to get my rams.”

Of the thirty rams that belonged to me, I needed to choose five to send in for this year’s breeding. We separated W002 and W003 from the rest of them, along with the two red-tagged original breeders, and one other. We shoved the other unlucky bastards out into the run where we could take them back to their paddock later.

Paul wandered up, and I made the introductions again. With Elliot’s help we once more pushed the yellow-tagged rams through the race. This time Paul sorted out which ones he wanted for market and which were to remain with me. It was another hour after that before we finally had all the rams where we wanted them. W002 and his twin brother were let loose on my best breeding ewes to hopefully get me a lovely crop of quality lambs. The other three selected rams were run in with my second-class mob. The remaining thirty-five were returned to their paddock with a lot less fuss than it took to get them out.

I closed the gate behind W002 and W003, then pointed to the nearby dam. “Who’s up for a dip before lunch?”

Paul frowned slightly in my direction, and Elliot looked surprised. “You swim in that?” he asked.

“Hell, yes,” I replied. I was sweaty and I often took a dip before lunch. “I’ll even leave my pants on today just to stop your maidenly blushes.”

Both my brother and Elliot looked discomfited. I laughed because I knew why, and neither could say anything. Elliot, I knew, fancied me and was probably looking forward to seeing me without my clothes. However, he couldn’t look his fill or show interest because my brother was there.

Conversely, my brother thought that, since I was gay, I shouldn’t be undressing in front of any other bloke—straight or gay. He had this weird idea that I should actually cover myself up and not make myself “available.” But with Elliot within hearing range, he couldn’t tell me that.

I left the two of them to make up their own mind and strolled toward the inviting water, taking off my sling as I went and unbuttoning my shirt. I didn’t bother to look back, even as I heard the Rover start up and follow me down the hill. I sat on the edge of the dam, took off my boots and socks, and carefully looked for vicious thorns before I waded in—still in my pants as I’d promised. I struck out, making for the middle of the dam, before lying on my back and floating for a while.

A nearby splash caught my attention, and I looked up in surprise. Elliot was wading in, still in his black jeans but without his shirt and sunnies. He was pale and lean, but my dick didn’t care if he was green and warty. Male flesh, naked and dead ahead, was all my nether regions cared about. I was infinitely alarmed. Usually I could temper my reactions to other men when I was around “work.” It was only in the darkness of nightclubs or the privacy of a house in the city that I let my dick do the thinking for me.

“Shit! It’s cold, Hank,” Elliot complained as he walked in. “Don’t you know it’s winter?”

“Wuss,” I threw back at him, ducking down in the waist-deep water so my arousal couldn’t be seen. Elliot took a deep breath and plunged in, diving under the water and coming up not too far from me. He surfaced with a flick of his hair and floated on his back next to me for a moment. “Good?” I asked.

He didn’t bother opening his eyes against the midday sun. “Ask me again when I stop shivering.”

“Oh, bullocks. It’s not that cold. You don’t even have goosebumps.”

He sat up, still floating with his toes above water, but only his head sticking out. “You have goosebumps,” he pointed out.

Yeah, but they’re not from the cold.

“Put your eyes back in your head, Quackle,” I whispered low enough so my brother, sitting on the hood of my car, couldn’t hear.

Elliot chuckled and swam around until his back was to Paul. His gazed flicked down, taking in the breadth of my shoulders and my nipples, tight with cold and arousal. He had a smirk on his face as he whispered back to me. “I’ll stop looking if you stop putting it on display. You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”

I don’t think I was doing a very good job of not smiling as I replied, “You can’t prove anything.”

Paul chose that moment to bellow across the expanse, “Have you two pansies had enough yet? Can we go and get some grub before my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut?”

I chose to ignore my older sibling and focused on Elliot. “So have you had enough yet, Quackle?”

He gave a huge put-upon sigh. “Not nearly enough, but I guess we should go.”

I bit my tongue and teased. “Can you control yourself enough to get out, or should I go and distract Paul for a bit?”

He laughed and cupped a handful of water and threw it in my direction. I had to swallow hard.
No fishing, Hank!

“You know, Hank? You really shouldn’t tease a man who has easy access to Ketamine. One simple injection and you’re out to it. I could do all sorts of things then. I could make you sing soprano if I wanted to.”

We were laughing madly as we sloshed out of the murky water. Paul was muttering to himself and had already decided he would drive back—he had impatiently taken his place behind the wheel of my Rover. My pants were soaked, so I tossed my dry clothes in the back and hitched a ride on the outside of the vehicle. Elliot followed suit, clambering up on the step behind me.

I’m pretty sure he checked out my arse the whole way home.

Chapter 6