Heart of Gold Read online

  Irene scooped up an armful of fleeces. ‘Nah, girl. I’m sure about this one.’

  ‘That’s what you said about the last one,’ said CJ under her breath with a chuckle.

  2

  IT was a new week and a new shed. CJ had arrived early at Phil Robinson’s shed, so she had plenty of time to get ready. Doug was already there dropping off the wool press. When he had finished setting it up, he headed over to see her.

  She knew something was up by the way he walked and the sheepish look on his face.

  ‘What’s up, Doug?’ She braced herself.

  ‘Um, I’m a rousie down this week so I’ve brought Tim in.’ He put his large hands on his wide hips. His blond hair sat up in disarray and his blue eyes looked tired and stressed.

  CJ shook her head. It wasn’t the first time Doug had done this to her. ‘No, Doug.’ She loved this bloke like an uncle, but she could still be pissed off with him.

  Doug’s face reddened slightly. ‘Please, CJ. Tim would only do it if he could class.’

  ‘And what about me? I told you last time I wasn’t being sidelined again. It’s bullshit and you know it.’

  Doug was as tall as CJ and quite lean for a bloke who had given up shearing to run the teams he’d built up. He was a good boss, when crap like this didn’t happen. She had been with Doug and his shearing team for so long now that he’d kind of made her an honorary boss and expected her to be able to control whichever team she was with. Fat chance! Most of them did what they pleased nowadays. They knew it was hard to find a new shearer or rousie, so they played up all the time.

  Doug had employed her as soon as she’d left school at the start of year eleven. The family couldn’t afford for her to stay, even if she’d wanted to. CJ had to work so Emily could stay at school. Leaving hadn’t bothered her. CJ wanted her little sister to have a better start at life.

  Doug had known CJ had a background in rousing, as her old man was a good shearer in his heyday, so he’d eagerly signed her up, age sixteen. When she was little, her mum would take her to a shed her dad was working in. No one had ever minded CJ in their sheds. She would help the farmer pen up or give the rousies a hand. She loved to sit and watch her dad shear for hours on end, marvelling at the way the wool came away with the smooth blow of the handpiece. That was before it all went pear-shaped. Now it was all just work, work and more work.

  ‘Tim told me he’d quit if I made him rouse under you. Reckoned he’d get laughed at,’ Doug tried to explain. ‘He said he’d been offered another job.’

  ‘He’s only yankin’ ya chain, Doug. He knows you’ll cave in. Why put up with his shit when he could up and quit next week anyway?’ CJ put her hands on her hips to force her point.

  Doug’s eyebrows met as he scrunched up his forehead. ‘Come on, CJ. Don’t make me beg.’

  ‘You’re a prick, Doug. How about paying me a classer’s wage, then? I don’t see why I should have to take a pay cut because of Tim.’

  Doug’s lips moved with a hint of a smile. He knew she’d given in. He began to head towards his small truck.

  ‘Douglas Taylor, you better be paying me a full wage or I’ll go and work for Stumpy’s team, and I mean it,’ CJ yelled.

  She saw Doug’s steps falter, but only for a fraction. Yeah, she had him thinking about it – after all, she was his best classer.

  In another thirty minutes they were just about to start the first run.

  Irene was trying to do running repairs on her scraper with some duct tape. ‘So, have you calmed down yet?’

  CJ rested her bum on the raised floor. ‘Oh, I’m still peeved but there’s not much I can do about it.’

  ‘It’s pretty crap of Doug to do that to you,’ said Irene, shaking her head in disbelief.

  ‘That’s blokes for ya. I’m just as qualified as Tim, I’ve worked for Doug longer, yet I’m instantly put on the floor and Tim’s the classer.’

  ‘It’s not like Tim can’t work the floor. He’s only twenty-nine,’ added Irene.

  CJ screwed her face up in disgust.

  ‘You put up with enough crap as it is without him adding to it,’ Irene went on. ‘I bet you didn’t tell him what you really thought, did you?’

  CJ gave Irene a dark look. ‘What’s the point anyway? It wouldn’t have changed anything. I think Doug’s finding it tough at the moment. It can’t be easy running a few teams when you’re struggling for staff.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose. Oh my…’ Irene didn’t finish her sentence.

  CJ followed her gaze to the open door of the shed as a tall figure walked in from the sunshine. Ryan Reynolds, eat your heart out. It had to be the new guy. He was lean and ever so smoulderingly sexy. He had vibrant blue eyes, with a hint of smoky grey, which caused her blood to start to bubbling. But she wasn’t going to let Irene know any of this.

  Lindsay went straight to the empty stand nearest the door and introduced himself to the other shearers.

  ‘I wish I was twenty years younger,’ whispered Irene. ‘Come on, let’s go say hi.’

  CJ was about to say ‘let’s not’, but Irene was already leading her across the floor. Damnation!

  ‘G’day, you must be Lindsay? I’m Irene, I’ll be your rousie today along with my mate CJ here.’ Irene held out her hand and shook Lindsay’s.

  Bugger, thought CJ, now she’d have to do the same or else she’d look like an snob.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, holding out her hand. CJ tried to avoid contact with his eyes and focused on his hand. It was an amazing hand, connected to his rather gorgeous arm. She swallowed hard.

  ‘Thanks, nice to meet you both. Sorry if I forget your names; I’ve met so many new people.’

  His voice was smooth like caramel, but with a sexy edge to it. CJ quickly glanced at him, his eyes just leaving her as he turned back to his stand. In another minute the clock hit seven and the shed erupted.

  CJ went and stood by Dave, waiting for the belly wool and trying not to think about those sparkling blue eyes.

  Before the start of the second run, Irene asked her what she thought of Lindsay.

  ‘To tell you the truth, I haven’t checked him out properly. But I noticed he’s keeping to himself. That’s way better than Marty.’

  ‘Yeah, I don’t think Marty’s going to like Lindsay much. He’s going to hate competition,’ Irene laughed, before heading off to dump the locks into a bin.

  CJ could just imagine Marty losing his cool. When sheep didn’t do what he wanted, they got more than just a smack across their nose with a handpiece. Sometimes he left them bloody and dazed. Dogs often got a kick up the bum if he was in a shitty mood, and she’d seen him in many fist fights after cut-outs.

  Sighing, she went over and jumped into the skins bin and started to pack it down. Lindsay walked past and, out of the corner of her eye, CJ took a moment to watch him. He lifted his long body up onto the raised floor and began to change and oil the cutters on his handpiece. Yeah, he was handsome. No, he was bloody sexy. She didn’t know why, but something about him seemed familiar, like she might have met him before. But she would have remembered him and his long, brown arms. Even his hands were large and powerful, and very enticing. Arms were her weakness and his were definitely a ten out of ten. The heat was building in her temples, making her mind rather foggy. She had seen some nice bodies every now and then working in the sheds; it kind of came with the job. But there have also been blokes with huge beer bellies – or a builtin airbag, as Dunc called his.

  Hands down Lindsay’s arms were definitely the best yet. His short-cropped blond hair suited his strong jaw line, and she’d already caught a glimpse of his blue-grey eyes. An involuntary shiver went down her spine as she climbed out of the bin. The music cranked up, signalling the start of the next run. Thoughts of Lindsay lurked in the back of CJ’s mind as she waited for the first fleece.

  Lindsay held a ewe tightly between his legs and began to take off the belly wool. His first day on the job and things were going okay. He was thankfu
l Doug had offered him a job, as it had been short notice. It’s not every day you walk off the family farm. At least this way there was distance between him and his dad. Des hadn’t been too impressed, of course, but he couldn’t do much about it. Lindsay was twenty-eight and could make up his own mind. Truth be told, he should have left years ago. If it hadn’t been for the fight with his dad, he might never have had the guts to leave. Maybe he would go back one day, but not for a while. Not until he had found himself and got his head around what his dad had said during their fight. Lindsay had slaved away on the farm and now it was his little brother’s turn. James was the better farmer anyway.

  Lindsay noticed a couple of rousies watching him, and he groaned. At first it’d been great – pulling in the girls – but now he’d had enough of shallow women. Lindsay had hoped that if he kept to himself, they might leave him alone. But he could see their minds ticking over. He’d been in enough shearing sheds to know their sort. Some worked hard, he’d give them that, but the majority played just as hard. He had given up on trying to find a woman who interested him years ago.

  Before he knew it, a tall girl came in and swooped up the fleece just as the last bit touched the floor. She whisked it away before the other two rousies could get their butts into gear. He smirked at the look of disappointment on their faces, and followed the tall girl with his eyes. What was her name… CJ? When he’d shaken her hand it had felt as rough as one of the shearers’. He was impressed by her rock-hard physique – she was like a female version of the statue of David. And her face was smooth and fresh – no makeup, just her natural beauty. He would have liked to see her eyes but she kept them hidden behind long lashes.

  He could tell she was upset by the way she threw herself into her work. It was hard and fast. Lindsay was very similar. When his dad would get angry with him for wanting to leave the farm to do some shearing or a show or competition, he always found he carried his anger into his shearing. Sometimes the bigger the fight, the faster he shore – but it wasn’t always clean.

  Towards the end of the run he heard her voice as she began to gather his next fleece. It was soft and direct. She made sure he knew it was a compliment.

  ‘You shear nice and clean. Good job.’ And then she was gone again, as quick as that, leaving him to ponder her words. It brought a smile to his face. Lindsay realised it was the first time he’d had a rousie notice his work. He was thrilled and for the rest of the day he was in a better mood. Maybe this change was a good thing for him after all.

  3

  CJ quietly shut the door of her small shed, which sat in the corner of the large, unkempt lawn out the back of her family’s old brick and tile house. She locked the door carefully. The last thing she needed was someone sifting through her bedroom looking for cash again. Turning around, she paused and breathed deeply. It was still dark, and the air was fresh and smelt of morning dew and eucalyptus. She pulled her long-sleeved cotton shirt together to keep out the morning chill and tightened the belt on her shearing pants – the pair that had once belonged to her dad.

  With a whistle, CJ called Sam and walked towards the carport. She gave a quick command and watched him glide over the side of her old black one-tonne ute. He sat and waited patiently while she clipped on his short chain.

  ‘Good boy, Sam.’

  Her long legs seemed to take up all the space as she climbed in behind the steering wheel. Scraping her hair back with firm hands, she bunged it into a ponytail. She could never understand why some women took so long to do their hair in the morning. She thought of Lindsay and his perfectly cut hair and without realising it her hands went back to her head, smoothing fine hairs into place. Okay, maybe she did care a little.

  She reversed out of the driveway and stopped at the mail box, which was overflowing with envelopes. She quickly flicked through the pile. They all had windows. Sighing, she threw them on the passenger seat. She would just have to deal with the bills later tonight. Taking her foot off the clutch, she reversed onto the road, clunked the gearbox into first and headed out of town.

  CJ loved this time of day. Resting her arm on the open window the cool breeze brought goose bumps to her brown skin. She loved Lake Moore – with just over six hundred people, the town ticked along nicely. It was surrounded by salt lakes, which were dotted throughout the flat paddocks and bushland. The pub was worth mentioning. Which small town doesn’t have a great pub at its heart to bring people together? Lake Moore also had plenty of sports facilities, like the new hockey oval… if only she had time to play!

  CJ flicked on the CD player, which sat on a metal frame she had made up and bolted to the dash. It was a bit rough, but it worked a treat. Hunters and Collectors’ ‘Holy Grail’ blared out of the tiny dash speakers, throwing fine gravel dust up in the air as they shook with each beat.

  She slowed down and turned off the bitumen onto a narrow gravel road, keeping a lookout for kangaroos. Her bullbar had saved her from a lot of damage over the years. Two weeks ago, a large red roo had come bounding out of the bush just as she passed, and nearly went through her passenger window. As a result, she couldn’t open the passenger door any more, and she couldn’t afford to fix it. Her ute wasn’t worth insuring. Saving money was bloody impossible in her situation.

  She caught a quick glimpse of Sam in the rear-vision mirror as he tried to settle down for the half-hour drive. He looked into the cab of the ute – checking on her, no doubt. CJ smiled. Sam was the one thing in her life that never failed her. God, she hoped all the rousies showed up today. She was sick of picking up the slack. Hopefully all the shearers were sober and ready for action, as she wanted this shed to be done by the end of the week.

  Twenty kilometres later, she parked her ute under a tree. ‘Come on, Sam,’ she said, slapping her leg.

  A vehicle approached, kicking up dust from the road. CJ stared at the old yellow Land Cruiser, trying to figure out who it belonged to. Yes, it was a really typical, nosy country thing to do. Everybody knew everyone out here, including the vehicles they drove, so the moment a new car arrived it was met with inquiring glances and a half-hour debate about who it could be.

  CJ couldn’t place the ute, but she instantly recognised the arm that leaned out the window. Lindsay parked and jumped out. This morning he wore a black shearing singlet and reflective sunnies. Her heart gave an abnormal beat as she breathed in the strong smell of aftershave and soap.

  ‘Didn’t like coming in the bus?’ she asked.

  Lindsay slammed the door and took off his sunnies, throwing them into the ute in one cool, swift movement. He looked like he belonged next to Tom Cruise in Top Gun. Shrugging his large shoulders, he replied, ‘I’ve moved into a place out on a farm so it was easier to drive here myself.’

  He grabbed his water bottle and a towel and together they walked into the shearing shed. CJ tried not to notice that his heavenly arm was swinging precariously close to hers. Her body tingled. Lindsay was almost half a foot taller than her, which didn’t happen much.

  Lindsay looked at CJ for a moment. ‘You’re here early.’

  ‘Yeah, I thought I’d press out a few bales. Tim’s getting behind.’

  Lindsay watched her turn on the press and walk over to a stack of fleeces, where she began to pull out a few staples, checking the grade. He smiled and chuckled to himself.

  ‘Ah, I get it now,’ he said, not realising he’d spoken out loud.

  ‘Pardon?’ she asked as she carried back an armful of fleeces.

  Her strength had him mesmerised. He was used to girls with slender, perfect arms – not that CJ’s weren’t perfect. In his books they were better than perfect. Her strength told him a lot about her personality. Gutsy and determined came to mind.

  ‘Sorry. I’ve just cottoned on to the fact that you’re a classer. Now I understand why you noticed my fleeces.’

  She smiled and he felt the hairs on his neck twitch.

  ‘How come you’re not classing this shed, then?’ he asked.

  CJ
threw him a look that resembled an approaching thunderstorm. ‘That’s a sore point. Doug always puts Tim on as classer when we have to work a shed together.’ She let out a deep sigh.

  Lindsay got the distinct feeling Doug wasn’t the only one who had pissed her off in life.

  Watching CJ walk past with another armful, he realised he was being thoughtless and offered to help.

  ‘No, I’ll be fine. Thanks anyway,’ said CJ, giving him another smile.

  He felt his own lips return one. She was quite something when she smiled and he loved the way a bit of her hair, which had fallen loose from its ponytail, curled just below her ear. From there he couldn’t help following the silkiness of her skin along her neck to her gentle jaw and up to her pink, full lips. And her eyes were blue like his, but darker, like deep sapphire pools.

  He hung up his towel and put on his shearing moccasins, but couldn’t help watching her. She was almost graceful in the way she moved about the press, but the way she manoeuvred the bale hook reminded him not to get on the wrong side of her.

  Lindsay leaned back against the pen and the sheep behind him shuffled further away. He breathed in deeply and glanced around the shed, which was aglow with golden morning sunshine. He could see particles glistening in the rays of sun that streamed in through the windows and the open doorway. Outside, CJ’s dog made himself comfortable under her ute, lazily chasing away the flies that had begun to surface with the warmth of the sun.

  The minibus pulled up and the rest of the team came in. He watched like an eagle as Marty stopped and flirted with CJ. Not enjoying the way Marty leered and leaned into her, he turned and focused on the pen full of woolly merino sheep. Soon he should try to up the tempo and push out a few more sheep a day. It had been a while since he’d tested what he could do. Maybe today was the day.

  At their lunch break, Irene carried a plate of sammies over to CJ, who’d just finished loading up some pens with Sam.