Texas by Sarah Hay Page A

never appreciated how hard he worked. The job was tough, always battling against people who wanted to keep things the way they were. It was nothing like running a few sheep down south. He had to prove to the boss he could do it and he had to prove it to his bloody wife as well.
    Unlike the old man Irish, John had no reticence when it came to talking about himself. Sitting overlooking the riverbed, birds riotous and intrusive, Laura felt included and then, after the second beer or was it the third, he jumped off the back of the vehicle and stood in front of her, placing both hands on her knees.
    â€˜Laura,’ he said. His head was tilted upwards and his hat fell off, revealing oily blond hair pasted to his skull.
    She realised he expected her to lean towards him, kiss him perhaps.
    â€˜Ever since I saw you, I knew you felt the same.’
    Fuck. What was it about men that they didn’t realise she was only being friendly? That she was just being polite, showing an interest in what they were saying. She’d enjoyed his company, his knowledge of the country, but for godsake why did it have to end with sex? She watched with horror as his hands moved from her knees, up her legs, his fingers sliding across her jeans, touching her inner thigh, and then he grasped her waist, his body leaning closer, his breathing louder. She remembered Ben and felt sick. The sympathy she felt when he told her about his relationship with Susannah evaporated. What a stupid man. She inched backwards a bit and brought up her right knee and used her leg to push him from her. She jumped off the vehicle and moved away, looking over her shoulder, seeing him pick up his hat from the dirt. She followed the track away from the river.
    â€˜Where are you going?’ he called after her. ‘It’s a long walk back.’
    She heard the vehicle start and then it was behind her, its lights obliterating his face. She had no choice but to climb inside and they didn’t speak for the rest of the way. Instead of being angry, he seemed embarrassed and she knew she was partly to blame. She should never have appeared so interested.
    VI
    The kitchen floor smelt of disinfectant and the benches were spotted with droplets of water. Laura hesitated by the flywire.
    Susannah glanced at her and filled the kettle at the sink and then lit the stove.
    â€˜Cup of tea?’ asked Susannah.
    â€˜Thanks.’
    â€˜Are you going to sit down?’
    Laura pulled out a chair.
    â€˜There are some biscuits on the table.’
    Laura reached for one out of the jar.
    Susannah took another cup from under the bench.
    â€˜Susannah,’ Laura began. ‘There’s something I want to tell you.’ Susannah straightened. Laura watched her pause before the window, both hands holding the empty cup. ‘Yesterday, John . . .’
    â€˜Look, I don’t want to know.’ Susannah turned, eyes avoiding hers. She filled both cups and moved one of them across to Laura. ‘Sometimes,’ she added, looking down, ‘it’s better not to know. You’ve just got to get on with it. Don’t you think?
    â€˜Sugar?’ she asked, pushing the bowl towards Laura.
    â€˜Yeah, thanks. I suppose,’ said Laura and she took a deep breath. After a while she continued. ‘But then if you don’t have all the information, how can you make the right decision?’
    â€˜It’s always the right one at the time. You have to think that.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Otherwise you’d spend your whole life regretting things.’
    â€˜I don’t plan on doing that.’
    Susannah smiled tightly.
    â€˜None of us do.’
    VII
    When shadows lengthened and the light softened and corellas roosted in the tree above the yards, Laura slipped the bridle from her horse and gently tapped its rump to send it off out into the paddock. She had just hung the bridle on the nail beside the saddle when the birds rose again. She looked to see