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“Yeah, mate.” I breezed by him, unable to be in his proximity at that moment. My emotions were too close to the surface and seeing Craig protective and snarky at our newcomer had me wanting to climb him—ironic when he was acting like an overbearing big brother. I plucked my water bottle from the saddlebag and took a swig, hiding from conversation with the others.
We continued on, moving the cattle towards home in a steady drive. Nutella’s hoof beats and her steady sway underneath me rocked me gently. The wind in my hair and the winter sun on my face had me smiling, then choking on the dust thrown up by the cattle. A fine, fiery-red haze floated around us, coating our skin and getting into everything. Our wet season was in summer, so our winters were always drier, but this drought had persisted for years. The endless stretch of blue skies was beautiful, but desperation had set in too. I wished rain would fall. I’d give anything for it to happen.
Making camp that night, we all ended up in our normal positions. Except for Scottie. Scottie had pushed his swag out further than he normally would have and told Macca to get in closest to the campfire. Macca looked at Scottie like he’d hung the moon and Scottie’s lips quirked up in a smile. It was gone quickly, but the ghost of it remained in his eyes. He was happy and I was grateful for the friendship developing between them. It seemed to be pulling Scottie out of his self-imposed exile.
I looked at the two men who insisted I sleep between them and sighed. I was sick of being the buffer between them after so many years.
We laid down and the sounds of the night filtered through the quiet. The lowing of the cattle, the crackle of the fire. A howl cut through the air, the mob shifting and mooing, a frisson of disquiet passing through them. Then a bark. Scottie and Macca were talking quietly, Scottie explaining that the howl had come from dingoes and the bark was from a feral dog. He’d seen tracks earlier in the day. It was a big dog and by the looks of it, was crossbreeding with the dingo. The family pack had more pups than a full-blooded dingo pair would produce and feeding them in this landscape—the dry desolation caused by the drought—would be difficult.
More calls. From different places. They were surrounding the mob, looking for weaknesses. A sliver of unease passed through me this time. If they attacked, the mob could stampede. We’d have no hope of getting out of the way in time if they headed in this direction.
“If they attack, will they avoid us?” Macca asked. “I’m guessing they’re going for the cattle, but will they keep away from the fire or do they need the light?”
There was a pause before Scottie answered. “They’re avoiding us—usually use the cover of darkness for sneak attacks. Maybe if we made some fires round the mob, we could buy a few hours’ sleep.”
Macca rolled onto his side to face Scottie “Or we could split up and build a perimeter of campfires? Rather than moving around all night stoking fires, we could just stay out there with each one.”
“Everyone’s had a long enough day. To have to do more tonight’d—”
“You two gonna put a lid on it? Some of us wanna get some shut-eye,” Dennis, the new guy who wasn’t really new—he’d been here for going on eight years—grumbled from next to us, our heads not too far away from each other. Rather than whack him with my makeshift pillow, I opened my mouth to respond, but Macca beat me to it.
“Mate, can you not hear the howls? I’d rather keep the mob safe, wouldn’t you?”
Waru spoke from across the campfire. “The dingo are hungry. Fires around the cattle might work to ward off a hunt.”
“So, we do that then.” I sat up, put my jacket on and shook out my boots. Craig and Sam were moving too, and Den sighed and began shuffling around. I paid no attention to him.
Scottie sat up, surveying each of us. “If we’re gonna do this, everyone’s got to take a gun. Keep it loaded and next to you. You hear anything, see anything, you fire. Anyone hears a shot, get there, quick smart. Our safety is our number-one priority, right?”
We all agreed, and Scottie continued, “Right, Waru, Yindi, and Den you stay here.” In a move so typically Den, he made a happy sigh and I rolled my eyes. Den was a great help around the station and a good enough bloke, but he loved his sleep above all else—even more than the bottle of Bundy that accompanied him everywhere he went off the station. “Craig, Sam, and Ally, you three go to the northern edge of the mob. Take the ute. Radios on and keep an ear out.” Then to Macca, he added, “We’ll go to the south-western corner on the four-wheelers. Let me grab a couple of logs off the back of the ute so we don’t run out of fuel for the fire, and we can go.”
It only took a few minutes, and we were off, slowly circling the mob to our position in the north. The ute lurched to the right as Sam navigated over ruts in the ground and super soft patches of sandy dirt. Sitting between the two of them, I slid, pressing into Sam before he righted the vehicle and I straightened. Craig wrapped his arm around me, holding me to him until we pulled to a stop a ways away from the cattle.
“I’ll get a few twigs to get the fire going if you can make a clearing and get the logs into place.” Craig pulled the torch out of the glovebox and clicked it on, shining it into the distance before bringing it closer in. There were no reflections from eyes, and the relief that coursed through me was like a weight being lifted off my shoulders. Sam and I worked from the light cast by the ute’s headlights, clearing away dried grass and piling it up before striking a match and beginning the campfire. Craig was back a moment later, snapping sticks to use as kindling until the fire was hot enough to burn the logs. They’d burn through the night, giving us warmth for hours.
Before I had the chance to get my swag, Sam was laying them out, putting me between them again. Something in me snapped. In my mind’s eye, I could see the highlight reel from my life and the picture wasn’t anything like I had imagined it would be. I’d grown up with women who took no shit. They were strong and independent. They didn’t need a man to be happy. Both had achieved far more than any man thought them capable of, and I loved them for it. I loved that I’d learnt I could do the same. I knew I didn’t need to map out my life according to some arbitrary timeline of getting married, having kids and watching my husband go out and achieve his dreams. I think it was one of the reasons why Phil and I could never have worked out. But I’d let staying strong and independent come at the expense of building the life I’d really wanted. I’d coasted along, being satisfied with mediocrity rather than chasing what I really wanted. I hadn’t wanted to rock the boat—the risk of having to leave my family and friends and my home had pushed me to a standstill. I’d acted out of a fear for far too long.
Did I keep going how I had been? I couldn’t do it. Not now that I’d finally woken up to see just what I was giving up. But I had no idea what to do about my future. What would it hold? I wanted to share my life, fall in love. Start a family. I wanted to grow old with someone.
Or more than one someones.
But that was never going to happen.
If I wanted to chase happiness, it meant leaving. It meant giving up everything important to me to find the path I was meant to take. The city hadn’t been the place for me years ago, and now I knew that the outback wasn’t my place either. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to walk away from my job, my family, my home. I knew that once that happened, the ties were invariably cut. Nothing would be the same between us again. Dad had shown me that. Same with my aunts who lived in Brisbane—Ma rarely spoke with them.
But what other choice did I have? Waste another decade? Two? Nan had told me once when Craig and Sam had first moved here that I’d know when to act when the time was right, and I’d found the bloke for me. I’d lived in hope for so long, but at the same time, I knew that being with the men I wanted was an impossible dream. Turning my back on Craig and Sam would break my heart, but continuing to live in the shadow of their love would bleed me dry.
The irony of what had shoved me the rest of the way to my realization wasn’t lost on me. A gay man pining over a straight one, while I was a straight woman pining over two gay men. It was the makings of a 90s sitcom. But the way Macca looked at Scottie, like he was meeting his childhood hero in the flesh—pure adoration, awe and wonder all in one look—made me wish for that too. Desperately.
It was kind of pathetic how unlike the strong, independent women who’d raised me I was. They never would have let themselves fall so deep into the rut I was currently in. I’d settled. I’d coasted along in life, waiting for things to change but knowing they wouldn’t. Repeating the same thing over and over and wishing for a different outcome.
But I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t keep pretending to be happy. I needed to stop letting life pass me by and grasp the bull by the horns so I could ride that bastard. It was time for me to chase what I wanted. I just didn’t have any clue how to do it.
I needed to be honest with Sam and Craig—not about the way I felt for them, that wouldn’t do any good. But letting them in on what I wanted my future to look like would be a start. I owed them that after our years of friendship, even if they didn’t trust me with their secrets. More than a decade’s worth of friendship was between us. Maybe me coming forward to them would be the push they needed to unburden themselves too.
All I knew was that I couldn’t sleep between them. Not that night, not any other one. “Guys, you don’t need to do this. I don’t need to be between you.”
“Yeah you do.” Craig’s response was simple, and it showed just how much he thought it was perfectly normal for us to sleep that way. It may have been that way in the past, but starting now, I was changing things.
