Page 64 of Where the Wattles Bloom

He loved this time of year. With August mere days away, the sun was rising earlier and the bleats of newborn lambs were everywhere. The days were getting warmer, but the cooler nights and mornings still dripped dew off the leaves and veiled the gullies in mist.

Lachlan opened the vehicle door but she shook her head. ‘I think I might walk? The fresh air might do me good.’

‘Sure, I’ll bring these over later. Better bring this one with me, though.’ He reached in and pulled out the three-day-old lamb that had been dozing in the back of the ute. It bleated loudly in protest at the interruption.

Rowena’s face lit up at the sight and Lachlan breathed a little easier. ‘Oh my god! How cuuute is he?’ She paused and looked at him. ‘She?’

‘She,’ Lachlan confirmed.

She stroked the snowy white head, which instantly calmed the bleating. ‘Are you taking her for a pet?’

Lachlan laughed. ‘No. We don’t keep pet lambs. Puppies are enough.’

‘Then where are you taking her?’

‘She was one of the twin births. Mother’s rejecting her. We’ll bottle feed her for a bit then hopefully we can get one of the other mothers to take her over in the next few days.’

He omitted the part about the prospective new mother being whichever was the next ewe to have a stillbirth. It was a fact of life out here on the farm but not a topic for now.

‘Oh, you poor baby,’ she crooned.

The cramp in his chest eased as she made kissy noises and laughed as the lamb, well aware it had an audience and keen to play on its underdog status, gave the most pathetic bleat to ever be bleated.

Lachlan rolled his eyes at the act, but it clearly worked as Rowena made nonsensical soothing noises and rubbed her cheek against the soft downy fluff of its ears. The cramp eased some more as he handed the animal into her eager arms. If it took a canny baby lamb to distract her from her precarious stomach, he’d take it.

‘In honour of Douggy’s daughter,’ Rowena said, addressing the sheep, ‘I think I’ll call you Shirley.’

Lachlan laughed and resigned himself to the fact Shirley was about to become a pet. No baby farm animal that had ever been named made it onto a truck.

‘C’mon then, Red,’ he addressed the dog. ‘Let’s get Shirley her bottle.’

The warble of a currawong provided the backing music as they crossed the distance to the homestead, Rowena fussing over the lamb the entire way. The lamb found her voice again when Lachlan scooped her out of Rowena’s arms and deposited her in the playpen, which had been unused since the last puppy had gone to a nearby farm a week ago.

Rowena objected at the same time Shirley was bleating her displeasure.

‘She’ll be fine here,’ Lachlan assured. ‘More room, more specialised attention and it’s only for a day or two. We’ll bring her in at night and Reggie’ll feed her soon.’

Rowena didn’t look impressed by his explanation, but all Lachlan cared about was the colour back in her cheeks. Whether it was the fresh air, the distraction, or both, he was just relieved to see her looking less zombie and more human.

Although clearly not that much more, if the slight rounding of Reggie’s eyes and the shared look of concern between her and Albert was anything to go by.

‘Goodness, darl,’ she said, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘You look all done in. Pull up a pew.’

It was the truest measure of how badly she was feeling, Lachlan thought, that Rowena didn’t bother to refute it or put on a brave face, she just meekly sat.

‘I’m so sorry to be a bother.’

‘Pfft.’ The loose grey strands of Reggie’s hair blew back off her forehead at the puff of air produced by the disparaging noise. ‘You’re not a bother. You’re family.’

Lachlan winced at Reggie’s grand statement. Was Rowena in the right frame of mind to hear something like that? Because, like it or not, if there was a baby in around seven months’ time, they would be a family.

Even if he had no clue what that would look like.

‘Now. Can I interest you in something to eat?’

If it was possible, Rowena got even paler at the suggestion. ‘Oh, god, no.’ She shook her head vigorously. ‘Sorry … that came out a little stronger than I meant. Thank you for the offer. Maybe later.’

Reggie, completely unconcerned by Rowena’s rejection of her food, just nodded. ‘No need to apologise. I couldn’t keep a thing down with my first baby for five months.’ She gave a dramatic shudder before assessing Rowena with those shrewd old eyes. ‘Would you like to go back to bed? I’ve made up the room next to Lachlan’s. It has an ensuite.’