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Another few days planning the muster and then being in the bush rounding up sheep meant missing online classes. And it was bloody unlikely I’d have the energy or motivation to study up at the shepherd’s hut.
After my run in with a wombat, I needed as much time as possible to heal and be cleared to ride a stock horse for the muster. Dirt bikes and the four-wheelers could only get up so far into the high country. At least I had no more pain or swelling which was a very, very good thing. Still, I had no interest in bruising my dick or balls again riding a stock horse in rough bush.
I sighed. “Well, plans don’t appear up sheep’s arseholes. Let’s get to it then.”
Grandad chuckled at that line and patted me on the back as we walked back to the kitchen with the dogs in tow to join the rest of the family to discuss the muster.
Ryan stared between my printed plan and a huge topographical map of Turner’s Creek. “Two days, three teams, and all the dogs? Only Reggie left by at the house?”
I sighed for what felt like the fiftieth time during this conversation. “Yeah.”
Reggie was basically a lapdog. Having no dogs at the house meant no early warning system for strangers arriving or predators. It wasn’t ideal but I needed every mutt for the muster.
“Who’s going out with you then?” Ryan asked.
“Just me.”
Ryan shook his head. “No way. Make sure you’re with someone. If something went wrong, you have no backup.”
“Nothing goes wrong on these trips. You ride, you round up, you shout at sheep, make camp, sleep, repeat. Back in two days. Overnighter.”
“I don’t like it. Every team has backup.”
“They’re covering a wider area.”
“And you’re going up the mountain. Crevices, ravines; just take someone with you and be safe.”
“Fine. But our men are going in team one. The Duke brothers signed up, and they’re all in team two. I can’t take Grandad this year. He’s not up to it anymore. Who am I going to take? Mum? You? Stacey?”
Nothing was said for several seconds.
“I’ve thought of the whole district and don’t know any decent stock rider available at the last minute. I called in every favour I can think of, and I’m not having any more Duke boys here to snoop around, wanting to see us fold and then swoop in to buy a part of the place themselves.”
Ryan stood up with his palms raised. “I get it, okay? I do.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Sorry. And to be honest, there aren’t as many people around anymore who know how to round up sheep on a horse.”
“Know I haven’t been on a horse in months,” Stacey said. “I’d be rusty in the saddle, that’s for sure.”
Ryan looked up. “I’ll make some calls. See what I can do.”
I nodded once and left. I couldn’t help the thought that I was supposed to be the one making this happen. I was supposed to be doing more of the running of the place, and yet I still ran to Ryan to ask his advice or whine about problems I couldn’t solve.
I promised my family I would do this, and I was failing.
Ryan knocked on the shearers’ quarters’ door during an online uni tutorial, holding up a bowl of pasta and wearing a grin.
My brother rarely grinned. I muted my mic as I beckoned him inside..
“Got someone to go out with you.” He plonked the steaming bowl of pasta down. “Good on the horse, too—”
I gave him a thumbs up and turned on the mic again. “Yeah, sorry, Ms Nicholson. Could you repeat that last bit?”
I mouthed “all good”, and Ryan nodded, looking from my laptop back to me in headphones.
“Yeah, I think that study raised some good points about …”
As I rattled off agronomy studies about beetles, Ryan scribbled something on a Post-it Note and then hooked a thumb back to the door to say he was leaving. I gave him another thumbs up and shared my laptop screen with the tute group and kept on talking. For this subject, I was graded for contribution in the tutorials, and I wanted to ensure I was remembered to get the highest possible marks for contribution.
