Second Chances Pt. 01

"How do we get him out?" Angus continued the interrogation.

"Just pull the legs but you have to do one at a time for a start."

Richard had moved to stand behind the sheep and he looked at Peta for permission to continue. She nodded, if he wanted to get his hands messy then go right ahead she thought.

"So you pull on one," Richard instructed as he pulled hard at one leg. It didn't budge at first then it straightened and the hock appeared. "Then the other," he repeated the procedure. "Now we can pull them together."

A quick tug from Richard and a bellow from the sheep and there was a slimy new born lamb struggling for his first breath.

"Wow," said both boys together like they'd just witnessed the greatest magic trick ever.

Richard wiped his hands on the sheep's wool then looked at Peta.

"Your husband home to help you at the other end?"

Peta was lost for words for a moment but Murray filled in.

"My dad's dead," he said as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Oh, oh," Richard stammered, "Sorry."

"Don't worry we'll be fine," Peta said quickly. "Into the truck boys so we can get this lamb back to the shed."

Richard turned and began walking back to his truck. Peta drove to the gate inwardly cursing her inexperience, her incompetence and lastly her rudeness. He had just wanted to help. The boys giggling bought her back reality.

"What are you laughing about?"

"Mum, you said a rude word." Angus replied trying to keep a straight face.

"I know, and don't tell Grandma." Peta said in a low voice to her conspirators. "What happens in the paddock, stays in the paddock."

Then they all got the giggles.

Chapter 3.

Richard climbed back over the fence and walked back to his dual cab. After clipping his dog onto the short lead, he climbed in and looked at the ute driving away across the paddock.

"That could have gone better," he said to himself.

The woman had been prickly from the start and he was only trying to help. Still he was a complete stranger so maybe it was understandable. And the look on her face when he had asked about a husband, that scar must still be fresh.

He started back down the road heading for his grand folly, the Mason homestead. Even now he couldn't explain why he'd bought it. For two and a half years he'd been drifting around Australia, living in his caravan, following the seasonal work. Picking melons in Kunnanurra, table grapes on the Murray River, apples in Tasmania, cherries in Orange, grapes in nearly all the wine areas in Australia. He'd also mustered cattle in the territory, helped out with the grain harvest on the Eyre Peninsula. Wherever the work was he went.

Then one day he'd arrived in Airlie on his way elsewhere. A non-descript country town on the Lachlan River. After pulling up at a takeaway shop on a Saturday afternoon and ordering a steak sandwich he'd taken a stroll. There had been a large picture of the Mason place in the window of a real estate agents office. Something grabbed him about it. It hooked him enough that he came back and punched in the after hours number when he'd picked up his sandwich.

The agent met him at the park thirty minutes later and took him for a tour. He liked the quiet back road and the river frontage. Then there was the house, a grand old girl who'd seen better days. There was huge potential there, and also huge expense. Back in Airlie they'd talked about the asking price for five minutes, then he'd continued on his journey.

But something wouldn't let him forget it. For the next two weeks picking apples he thought about the house. In the end he rang the agent back with a low ball offer he expected to be rejected. Two days with no response made him think it had been, until the agent rang back.

Congratulations he'd said, maybe it should have been commiserations. He'd been back twice since then. To pay the deposit and then for the final hand over. Now he had six weeks free time so he was going to make a start tidying up and making part of the house habitable again. He pulled up at the front gate and looked up the hill at the imposing structure.

'She's got good bones,' he thought then slapped his leg as an admonishment. It was a phrase his ex-wife had used incessantly.

Up at the house he unloaded the timber onto the veranda then checked his watch. It was close enough to lunchtime so he went around the back to his caravan and made a sandwich. He was on his way back to the front of the house to eat when he stopped and grabbed two beers. It was his usual holiday time after all.

Richard was just finishing the second beer when Bundy, his dog, started barking. He'd seen a vehicle stop at his front gate. It wasn't an unexpected visitor but he had hoped it wouldn't happen. He stayed seated on the edge of the front veranda in the sunshine as the police car made its way up the driveway. It cautiously made it's way towards him stopping just in front of his vehicle. The two occupants took their time getting out. When they emerged there was one in uniform and the other was in plain clothes.

Richard didn't move. He stayed seated, legs dangling over an overgrown garden bed and waited for them to come to him. The policemen initially went up the stairs to get on the same level until they saw the gaping holes in the timber floor. So they backtracked and followed the garden path around in front, and more importantly from Richard's point of view, below him.

"Richard Douglas?" The uniformed copper asked.

"At your service." Richard replied.

"I'm Senior Sergeant Darby, I'm a local policeman stationed in Airlie and this is Detective Smyth from the Forbes station."

Neither men offered their hand for Richard to shake so he smiled and stayed mute.

"We are just following up after you reported into the Lachlan Area Command last week." It was the Detective this time but Richard stayed silent. "Can we ask what is the nature of your visit?"

"I'm working on this house for six weeks then I'll hit the road again."

"And you are the owner of the house?"

"Yes."

"Is that your only vehicle?" The detective pointed to the old dual cab ute.

"Yes."

"Do you intend to eventually reside here?"

"Yes!" Richard was suddenly very exasperated. "Look. I told the constable at Forbes all of this stuff. Why do we need to re-hash it?"

"It's just a few follow up questions," the Senior Sergeant chimed in.

"Well I've had enough. I've done everything I'm required by law to do. If you want to take it further arrest me." Richard stood up so he was towering over the policemen.

"There no need..." Richard cut the detective off.

"To be asking me questions you already know the answer to. So if you don't mind I'm going back to work." Richard turned around grabbed a random piece of timber and cut it with the drop-saw. He hoped the noise would stifle any further questions.

When he turned around the police officers were retreating to their car. Before they got in they both took a picture of the ute and it's number plate. As they drove away Richard wanted desperately to stick his middle finger up at them but decided he'd already antagonized them enough.

He watched them until they had closed his front gate and driven away along the main road. Looking back at the rotting timbers of the veranda he was suddenly overcome with it all. Who was he kidding thinking he could fix this old place up and start again? This shit was going to follow him for the rest of his life. He kicked out at an off-cut and in keeping with the way his day was going it spun off the veranda straight into one of the tail lights on his trailer breaking the glass.

"Fuck!" He yelled to the heavens.

Richard downed tools. There was no point trying to work this afternoon. He'd only stuff something else up. Instead he went back to his caravan, grabbed another beer and rang his lawyer.

Chapter 4.

With the ewe and new lamb in a pen at the shearing shed Peta went back to the house. The boys had beaten her back by some minutes so they had loaded up with their Nan's biscuits and disappeared to play more video games.

"I'll need a hand with the chickens later." She called down the veranda as she removed her boots. "Boys?" Peta called again when there was no response.

"Yes Mum." The muffled chorus replied.

Once inside Peta went straight to the office. She fired up the computer and grabbed her husband's old phone from the desk drawer. It was time to find a replacement for Tony. With harvest only a couple of weeks away she knew it would be tough but there were a lot of harvesters in the district and she only had three hundred acres to do. One thing Peta hadn't accounted for was how much of a malicious arsehole Tony was.

At first she tried the local guys from Fred's old phone. They were polite about it but all said similar things; they had a lot on, they couldn't be sure when they'd get here, if she could get someone else it would be better. So next was the internet search which took her to the harvesting contractors' association website. There was a job swap page, farmers looking for harvesters, contractors looking for work. Peta tried a few who were planning on being in the area at the right time but they all said they were too busy except for one and then she only got the contractor's wife who said she'd ring back after she'd talked to her husband.

Peta had her fingers crossed and the wife had sounded positive that they'd be able to fit her in. Perfect fit, were her exact words. They only had a couple of days before they had to go further south towards Albury. The phone rang thirty minutes later. Peta answered with high hopes but she could tell straight away it wasn't good news.

She was very nice about it but sorry they couldn't help. Peta thanked her for her time and said she'd just keep trying and that's when the lady let it slip.

"Errr, look I shouldn't be telling you this but there's probably not much point continuing on the HCA website." The wife said.

"Why," Peta asked sounding baffled. "Isn't that what the websites for?"

"Yes but ummm look I shouldn't be saying this okay so please don't repeat it. The website has a member's area where clients who owe money to other contractors are written down. Your name's there, along with your property name. No one will work for you until the debts cleared. Sorry dear." The lady said before she hung up.

"Fucking Tony Fucking Smith!" Peta shouted in frustration and very soon after regretted it.

There was a giggle from up the hallway.

"Mum swore, Nan," came the voice of Angus.

"Well don't let me hear you saying words like that or I'll wash your mouth out." Peta mother said firmly.

"Are you going to wash Mum's mouth out?" asked Murray, the smartarse. Just like his dad.

Peta put her head in her hands. Fucking Tony, she thought this time. He'd probably spread the word around the locals as well. She picked up the large envelope on the top of the in-tray and pulled out its contents again. Contract for lease with option to buy. Had it really come to this she thought. There had to be another way. Peta picked the papers up and tossed them in the bin. She needed to get out of the house for a bit. Taking a deep breath Peta steeled herself for the walk of shame through the kitchen.

Pushing through the door Peta kept her head down hoping for a silent journey. Her mother had other ideas.

"Do you want some lunch?" Marci asked.

"Not just now. I need..." Peta checked what she was going to say and looked at the boys who were studiously looking at the sandwiches on their plate. "I'm just going to check on that lamb."

Marci didn't reply until Peta had stepped through the back door. "See if you can find some manners while you're over in the shed."

Peta didn't reply and she heard first the boys them her mum join in a chorus of laughter. Okay, she thought, my side of the family has its own share of smartarses.

On the way to the shearing shed Peta went past the machinery shed. It was all lined up in a row. Truck, big tractor, forklift, little tractor, feed out bin, old harvester... Old harvester, if only she'd paid a bit more attention to the farm stuff previously all of this hassle would be irrelevant. Fred had used it on lighter crops in dry years but generally got contractors if the yields looked decent. Peta went in and climbed the ladder to the cab.

Upon opening the door there was a strange sense of nostalgia. Fred had always put a lemon scent air freshener in his machinery cabins which meant his clothes picked it up as well. That same smell wafted out of the open door of the harvester cab and caused Peta eyes to fill with tears. Pushing those thoughts aside she sat in the seat. Well it's got a steering wheel so that's a plus. As for the other levers and dials, the more Peta tried to fathom a purpose the more confused she got.

Reluctantly Peta got out of the cab to go to the shearing shed. The lamb was on his feet suckling on his mother. His stomach bulged out which suggested he'd been on his feet for a while. The resilience of those little lambs always amazed her. Right now she would give her right arm for a generous dollop for herself.

Her mind drifted to the stranger who'd helped them catch the sheep. She couldn't remember his name now. Peta had realized as she drove away that her demeanour had hardly been welcoming. Frankly she had been downright rude. The challenge of catching the sheep had been one she was sure she could master. His intervention made her failure more acute. He seemed to know a lot about sheep. A little cog whirred to life in Peta subconscious; she wondered what he might know about harvesters.

The boys had left the kitchen when she returned. Marci was washing up their plates. There was a perfectly good dishwasher under the sink but her mother always insisted on washing up little loads by hand. Peta sat down and peeled off the plastic wrap off covering her lunch. She took a bite then asked her mum.

"Could you bake me a cake?"

"Yes, why?" Marci asked suspiciously.

"I need to make an apology." Peta replied.

"It's about time you came to your senses. I know Tony likes my chocolate cake so I'll whip up one of those."

Peta didn't have the energy to explain it wasn't for Tony.

Chapter 5.

Richard had collapsed into bed the previous night after a few too many lonely beers. He woke early the next morning with a sore head but forced himself to get up and start on the work he'd planned to do the previous afternoon. His was progressing well when Bundy started barking again. There was another vehicle slowing down then it turned into his driveway.

He stopped what he was doing and watched the driver get out and open the gate. They drove through, were polite enough to close it before continuing up to the house. It was an older model Toyota Prado, with bull-bar, driving lights, and a big two way aerial. Obviously done a few kilometres but those SUVs go forever.

Richard was pleasantly surprised to see the lady he'd helped catch the sheep the previous morning. Almost excited when she opened the back door and pulled out a homemade cake. For a single guy who's been on the road for two and a half years a homemade cake was a rare treasure.

She looked pretty good too. No work clothes today, neat pair of longish shorts, short sleeved shirt, sandals. Jesus get a grip he thought, her husband's not long in the ground and she's got to be at least ten years younger. Richard moved toward the front steps to greet her as he tried valiantly to remember her name. He remembered it was unusual and sounded like a boys name but he couldn't retrieve it in time.

He went with a plain, "Morning," followed by a warm smile.

"Hi," was Peta reply but that was followed up with some honesty. "Sorry I've forgotten your name."

"Don't worry, I'm no better," Richard admitted before offering his hand to shake. "Richard."

"Peta," She replied as they politely shook hands.

Peta held out the cake. "A thank you and, err, a peace offering. I wasn't very nice yesterday."

"Hey I stuck my nose in without being asked so I should be apologizing." Richard remarked taking the cake. "Would you like a cup of tea?" He offered.

"I don't want to interrupt your work."

"I was about to have a break anyway." Richard lied. "You'll have to come around the back to my van though. I haven't got the kitchen up and running yet."

"Lead the way," Peta said in a much more carefree way than she felt. She knew the van wasn't very big so it was like being asked to a stranger's bedroom.

Peta was relieved the van had an awning with a table and chair set up under it so she wouldn't be going inside. Richard pointed to the chair.

"You take that one, I've got another inside." He put the cake down on the table. "Now, milk sugar?"

"Just a splash of milk, thanks."

"Okay, I'll be back in a jiffy." Richard had a quick look around and was relieved not to see any dirty socks or underwear laying around.

He stepped inside his van and put the kettle on. Searching through the cupboard above the sink he found the only matching cup and saucer he owned and reserved it for Peta. Next he rinsed his trusty enamel mug and found a couple of clean plates for the cake. Richard took them out to the table. Peta was scrolling through her phone.

"Just waiting for the jug. Shouldn't be long." He said before going back inside.

Peta put her phone down and studied the back of the old house. It was in worse shape than she imagined. She thought it would have had a working kitchen. Still those wide bull-nose verandas, old style French doors and sash windows gave it an old country style charm. The garden the van was parked in must have been impressive in its day. She could still make out some paths and overgrown garden beds under strategically planted shade trees. Richard reappeared with a dainty teapot that matched her cup and saucer and Peta had to stifle a giggle.

"Leaf tea always tastes better but I have a tea bag if you prefer." Richard said defensively.

"No, no, it's fine. Just looks a bit funny in your big hands." Peta explained.

Richard poured the tea, cut some cake and sat down. They both nervously sipped their tea waiting for the other to start the conversation. Richard broke off a piece of his cake and popped it into his mouth.

"Mmmmm, lovely cake. Did you bake it?"

Peta considered taking the credit but decided it wouldn't be good to start with a lie.

"No, my mother. I've never been much of a baker."

"Does your mother live with you?" Richard followed up and soon regretted it.

"Yeah, she's been a big help since my husband passed away."

Richard took another sip of his tea. He was uncomfortable. He always was around people he didn't know well, especially since the divorce and custody stuff had got so messy. He felt that this lady wanted to ask or tell him something and he was petrified as to what it might be. Eventually he broke the silence.

"I think I said it the other day but I'll say it again. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Why?" Peta asked as fury just bubbled up inside her and demanded to be let out. "What are you sorry for? You don't know me, you didn't know Fred. Why do people feel sorry for poor Peta all the time? Do they ever think I might not want to be the subject of their pity?"

Peta actually bit her tongue to stop herself. She didn't know where it had come from and why she unloaded it onto this unsuspecting stranger but she actually felt better for having said it. She had been wanted to say much the same stuff for the last twelve months.

Richard was taken aback by the outburst. If he'd felt uncomfortable before it was now bordering on terror.

"Look," Richard started, "I've never been much of a talker. A couple of years as a nomad hasn't helped that situation. The only person I'm talking to mostly is myself. Now I've got the feeling you came here to ask me something so it might be best if you get that done and we move on from there."