Page 19 of Road to Rosalee

‘Oi, lay up, you lot, or I might have to fire all your arses.’ Laughing and shaking his head, Slim took the stance of a bodybuilder, but certainly didn’t look like one. ‘FYI, I won her over with my good looks, smoking body, and chivalrous charm.’

Snorts of laughter followed. Slim tossed them all a good-natured frown, followed by the forks.

‘How many people have you guys got coming to the big day?’ Zai asked when the laughter had subsided.

‘About sixty, give or take.’

Zai nodded. ‘That’s a good number.’

‘No number is a good number at a wedding,’ Hasselhoof grumbled, shrugging when he was shot looks of disbelief. ‘What? You’re only going to get divorced eventually, so why bother getting married in the first place?’

‘Far out.’ Zai rolled his eyes, chuckling. ‘Always the cynic, hey Hasselhoof.’

‘Well, some bastard has to be a realist and talk some sense around here.’

‘What are you on about?’ Showbags pretended to be wounded, grabbing his chest. ‘I always keep it real and I talk plenty of sense.’

Tumbles laughed out loud. ‘More like you always talk garbage, Showbags.’

‘Nailed it, Tumbles.’ Zai loved how he could feel so light and free around this bunch of down-to-earth guys.

‘Come on, you bunch of misfits. Time’s a-wasting and we got work to do.’ Lunch basket in hand, Slim started collecting empty pannikins and rubbish.

Zai rose and dusted off his jeans. ‘Great, thanks for that Slimbo. Now I’m gonna have Johnny and June’s “Time’s A Wastin’” stuck in my head all arvo.’

‘Oh, crap, me too now you’ve brought that up.’ Showbags gave Zai a playful shove. ‘Thanks for that, mate.’

‘Pleasure,’ Zai fired back, chuckling. ‘Anytime.’

Their game faces on, the men took their stations in the saddle and the mob meandered down the dusty track lined by a barbed-wire fence stretching between a steady line of rustic timber posts. Sao ambled at the back of the mob, so Zai sat loosely in his saddle, the reins long. With the scorching sun belting down on his back and his mouth as dry as the desert surrounding him, he took big gulps from his water bottle. Draining it, he tucked it back into his saddlebag. As they ate up the kilometres, the clip-clop of Sao’s hooves was increasingly drowned out by the bleating of calves and their mother’s replies, the calls as distinctive to each other as Beau would be to Sarah. Needing to rectify the situation, Zai gently urged the calves that were trailing at the back to catch back up to their mamas. They soon found each other and order was somewhat restored until, out of the corner of his eye, he witnessed one of the mob break ranks again. Cursing the flighty micky, he locked his boots into the stirrups, whipped Sao around in a stockman’s pirouette, and took off after the four-legged fugitive. For a few short seconds, everything was blinding dust and his teeth crunched down on the grit. When the dust cleared, he spotted the micky racing uphill, heading for a steep ridge that suddenly dropped thirty-foot to a gully on the other side. Little did it know it was heading for death if they didn’t stop it, and fast.

Balls to the wall, Tumbles took off up the steep ridge, his mare giving it her all, but, as they almost reached the top, the horse slipped. Her back legs were sliding downwards and she was pawing with her front feet to try to regain leverage. Racing after his accident-prone buddy and the bastard bull, Zai prayed for the best, but as always, when it came to Tumbles, disaster swiftly followed. The horse grabbed ground, but at the same time, Tumbles somersaulted backwards from the saddle and rolled with increasing velocity. A human cannonball, Tumbles collected sticks and stones as he descended, coming to an abrupt stop at the bottom. While Zai’s attention was on Tumbles, Showbags had come in from the other side and had saved the day, the rogue bull now under his control and almost back at the mob. Zai released his breath in a whoosh as Tumbles sat up, his hat and one boot missing, his hair in disarray, and a bewildered look on his dirt-smudged, gashed face.

‘Is he alive?’ Slim bellowed.

‘Yeah, all good,’ Zai called back.

Slim gave him the thumbs up. ‘Excellent. We’ll keep heading then.’

‘Righto, Slimbo, we’ll catch you up.’

Tumble’s reliable mare bolted in beside them, prancing nervously – they were very lucky she hadn’t fled the scene. With her lathered in sweat and breathing hard, Zai leant over Sao’s neck and grabbed her dangling reins. ‘You right down there, Tumbles?’

Eyes wide, Tumbles stared straight through him.

Disturbed by his mate’s empty gaze, Zai jumped to the ground, and placed a gentle hand on Tumbles’s shoulder, careful not to touch where his shirt had ripped and he was bleeding from gravel rash. ‘Tumbles, mate, are you okay?’

With a deep inhalation, Tumbles blinked fast, as if coming to. ‘Hey, yeah. I think so.’ He felt his arms and then legs, then touched his face, wincing a little when he brushed his bleeding lip. ‘I’m still pretty much all together, and I know my name, so that’s a good sign, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, it is.’ Zai bit back a chuckle. Trust Tumbles to make light of the situation. ‘Can you stand?’

‘Now the world’s stopped spinning like I’m in a damn dryer …’ Tumbles shook his head a little, as if to clear it. ‘I’ll give it a shot.’

Zai offered a hand up and Tumbles grabbed hold as he rose on shaky legs. Just as he straightened, he buckled forwards, looking like he was about to throw up, but after a few deep breaths, he regathered himself. Zai checked his buddy over, and apart from some cuts and a hefty egg on his head, he appeared all right. ‘I honestly don’t know how you haven’t broken any bones, mate,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You came down that hill like no tomorrow.’

‘I don’t do things in halves, Wellstone.’ Hands going to his hips, Tumbles grinned. ‘It takes skill to be a stockman and a stuntman, I tell ya.’

Zai couldn’t help but crack up laughing. ‘Shit, mate. What are we going to do with you?’