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Tomorrow, we needed to leave as early as possible.
I woke up alone. Rosie was already up and dressed, making tea and instant oats. We didn’t touch, didn’t kiss. We packed up the hut and our things mostly in silence.
The fantasy was over, as I knew would happen. I agreed to one night and got two. I pushed away my frustration and rising despair, not giving in to selfishly wanting a different ending to this.
After double-checking the horses and the saddles, the dogs pushed the sheep ahead of us, catching any escape attempts on the flanks. We followed the old stock trail down the mountain, the flock eager to get to lower paddocks where the feed was fresher.
Guiding the flock meant it was impossible to talk to Rosie, only having one rest break.
Like holidays as a kid, getting there seemed to take so long, yet coming back was over too quickly. Life had returned to normal, and I wasn’t ready for the holiday to be over. For the fantasy to be over.
Ryan, Chooky and two stockmen waved in the distance from the pump house. We rested the horses in the shelter with fresh feed and water with plans to collect them tomorrow. The stockmen continued the muster on motorbikes.
Neither Chooky nor Ryan seemed to notice that Rosie and I were silent or felt the tension that was simmering between us.
“You two must be tired. Well done, ay.” Ryan slapped me on the back, then launched into a run-down of what happened with the other teams and with the rush of tourists to Ballydoon to catch the snow.
Two four-wheelers were waiting for us and our gear. Rosie shared Chooky’s four-wheeler with his dog while I joined Ryan with Ruby and Rusty.
So this was it. Fantasy done and dusted.
#Kthnxbai
“See you at the house,” Ryan called over the engine to Chooky and Rosie. “Mum’s putting on a spread for everyone who helped with the muster.”
Rosie nodded and Chooky waved as they sped off in front of us.
As soon as Ryam and I returned, and I had escaped Mum’s hugs, I had a five-minute hot shower to clean off the smell of horse, wet dog, sheep shit, and Rosie. Time to thank the muster teams for their help. No time to wallow.
I entered the kitchen to the smell of roast and pudding and the spontaneous applause and calls of ‘Tombatus!’ and ‘Tom Cat!’.
Even the Dukes were here, and were clapping.
Grandad Cec walked up, “Well done, Tom. Well done.”
We embraced briefly. As I pulled back, he took me by the shoulders and shook his head. “Still tied up in knots. Even more than before.”
“What do you mean?” I grunted.
“Two nights with Rosie in that hut and you’re still not courting her, are you?”
“The girl needs to want to be courted for that to happen, Grandad.”
Mum interrupted us, giving me another brief hug. “I inspected the flock this morning,” she said in a low voice with a big grin. “Only a dozen, but Tom. The quality of the wool looks excellent.”
“Yeah?” I swallowed hard, scanning the room for one particular face. “How excellent?”
“Low in burrs and vegetation, and so fine. If they’re all like that, the microns will be low. I’m sure it’s at least nineteen, maybe eighteen.”
That meant a very good price for our wool. I allowed myself to smile. To hope the rest of the flock were the same. But all I could say was, “Where’s Rosie?”
“She said she needed to go home.” Mum’s smile dimmed as mine disappeared. “Was everything okay in the hut together?”
“Yeah. It was fine.” I hugged Mum again to hide my disappointment and accepted a beer from Ryan before moving around the room, thanking each person for their help.
Bye fantasy, hello reality.
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