The coals had settled to that even grey that meant they were ready, and Grant was working the tongs like he’d been born with them in his hand. Bryce leaned against the veranda rail with a beer in his fist, watching the smoke curl up off the rump steak.
“You want yours bloody or still walking?” Grant called over his shoulder.
“Whatever you’re having.”
“Wrong answer. That’s how you end up with something you didn’t want.” Grant grinned and flipped the steak anyway. “Elara likes hers mooing. Adele’s the same. I’m the only one here with sense enough to cook it properly.”
“Sense,” Adele said from the outdoor table, drawing the word out. She had a wine glass in one hand and her boots up on the chair opposite, pink shirt untucked and dusty from the afternoon. “That’s a strong word for a man who burns half of them because he gets distracted talking.”
“That was one time.”
“Three.”
Grant pointed the tongs at her.
“You’ve been spending too much time with Elara.”
“Probably.”
Elara came out of the kitchen with a bowl of salad and set it down. She’d been in the stables with Adele most of the afternoon, and there was still hay in her ponytail and a streak of dirt along her forearm.
She caught Bryce looking and raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m admiring the salad.”
Adele snorted into her wine.
“Smooth.”
Elara gave him a look that was half amused and half something else, then sat down and reached for her beer.
The evening light had gone gold and soft. The flies were giving up. The horses had drifted to the far end of the paddock, heads down, tails flicking. Somewhere beyond the yards, a magpie ran through the last of its song.
Grant brought the steaks over on a warped old tray, and they all leaned in to take one amid plates, tongs and somebody asking for the salt before anyone had properly sat down.
Bryce settled into his chair with his plate balanced on his knee.
“How’s the cabin going?” Elara asked, cutting into her steak.
“Walls are lined. Still got plenty to finish.”
“Grant could come over and help.”
“I could,” Grant said through a mouthful of meat. “I could absolutely come over and watch you do it and hand you things.”
“That’s not helping.”
“It’s morale support.”
“It’s being in the way.”
“Same thing.”
Adele laughed and reached across to steal a piece of steak off Grant’s plate.
He slapped at her fork half a second too late.
“Oi.”
“You weren’t eating it.”
“It was on my plate.”
“Possession isn’t everything.”
Grant looked at Elara.
“You hear this?”
“I’m staying out of it.”
“That means she agrees with me,” Adele said.
“It absolutely does not.”
Bryce took another drink and let them argue.
“Speaking of people who appear when they feel like it,” Elara said eventually, “you mentioned Holly was around last week.”
Bryce nodded.
“She was. Came in Thursday, left Sunday afternoon.”
“That’s a good stretch for her.”
“Is it?”
Adele and Elara exchanged a look.
Grant kept eating.
“Holly’s got her own rhythm,” Elara said. “Always has. She’ll be here for weeks and then vanish for a month and turn up like she never left.”
“I’m starting to notice that.”
“And it drives you mad.”
Bryce considered it.
“It’s more that I never know when I’m going to see her again.”
“That’s Holly,” Adele said. “Free-range animal.”
Bryce laughed.
“Free-range?”
“You can’t fence her in. She’ll jump it.”
“So what do you do?”
“Enjoy her when she’s there,” Elara said.
Bryce turned the beer bottle in his hands.
“That part I can manage.”
Grant raised his bottle.
“There you go.”
The conversation moved on.
Grant started talking about a mare he was thinking of buying. Adele disagreed with his assessment of her shoulders. Elara disagreed with both of them. Bryce listened until Grant dragged him into it despite Bryce pointing out that he hadn’t even seen the horse.
Adele stole the last piece of crusty bread.
Grant objected to that too.
At some point Bryce looked up and noticed her chair was empty.
So was Grant’s.
His fork still rested across his plate.
Bryce looked toward the kitchen door.
“Where’d they go?”
Elara didn’t look up from her beer.
“Probably fucking.”
Bryce stopped with the bottle halfway to his mouth.
Elara glanced at him.
“What?”
He lowered it.
“That’s a thing that just happens?”
“It appears to be happening now.”
Bryce laughed despite himself.
From somewhere inside came a faint thump.
He looked toward the door again.
Then back at Elara.
“Ethan doesn’t mind her being here doing this on her own?”
Elara took a drink before answering.
“Adele keeps some parts of her life pretty private. We don’t really know what Ethan thinks about everything she does.”
Bryce nodded.
Elara looked toward the house.
Then at him.
“You can have a turn if you want.”
Bryce nearly inhaled his beer.
Elara laughed.
“What?”
“You can’t just say that.”
“I just did.”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I’m good.”
“Alright.”
She took another drink.
Bryce looked at her.
“That’s it?”
“You said no.”
“Yeah.”
“So no.”
She stretched one leg out and rested her boot against the veranda rail.
The screen door rattled faintly somewhere behind them.
Bryce picked up his beer again.
“You really don’t mind?”
Elara looked at him.
“Grant and Adele?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
He waited.
She didn’t add anything.
Bryce nodded once and looked back across the paddock.
A horse stamped near the fence.
Elara reached into the esky at her feet and pulled out another beer.
She held it toward him.
Bryce looked at the bottle already in his hand.
“I’m not finished.”
“You will be.”
He took it anyway and wedged it beside his chair.
“You’re very confident.”
“I’ve seen you drink.”
The corner of his mouth moved.
For a while they sat without talking.
Bryce could hear the horses shifting in the paddock and the occasional clink of Elara’s bottle against the chair arm.
Then the screen door opened.
Grant came out carrying two beers, one in each hand, the caps already off. His hair was a little mussed and his shirt was untucked.
“Reckoned you two might be running low.”
Elara looked at the unopened bottle beside Bryce’s chair.
“He’s stocked.”
Grant handed her one anyway.
“Good planning.”
“Thanks, love.”
“No worries.”
Grant dropped back into his chair and picked up his fork.
His steak had gone cold.
He cut into it without complaint.
“Anyway,” he said, “as I was saying—the bay mare with the white sock. I think she’s got real potential, but I want to get her out on the track before I make an offer.”
Bryce looked at him.
Grant looked back.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Adele came out a minute later with her wine glass.
She settled into her chair and reached for the bread basket.
Stopped.
“Who ate the last piece?”
Grant pointed at Bryce.
Bryce stared at him.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I panicked.”
Elara laughed.
Adele looked around the table.
“You’re all useless.”
She picked up her fork and stole another piece of Grant’s steak instead.
“Again?”
“You left it unattended.”
“I was gone five minutes.”
“Long enough.”
Grant shook his head and went back to talking about the mare.
Adele argued with him.
Elara corrected both of them.
Bryce opened the second beer.
The evening wound down slowly.
The conversation drifted from horses to fences to feed prices to a client who had once tried to pay Adele in goats.
“How many goats?” Bryce asked.
“Six.”
“That’s not nothing.”
“That’s what I said.”
Grant frowned.
“What kind?”
Adele pointed at him.
“See? This is why people take advantage of you.”
“I’m asking a reasonable question.”
“You’re considering the goats.”
“I haven’t even seen them.”
“You were considering them before I finished the sentence.”
Elara laughed hard enough to put her bottle down.
By the time Bryce stood, the stars were properly out and the air had cooled.
“I should get going. Early start tomorrow.”
“You’re welcome to stay,” Elara said. “Spare room’s free.”
“Thanks. I’ve got a bed at home.”
Grant stood and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Drive safe.”
“I will.”
Adele lifted her glass.
“Night, Bryce.”
“Night.”
He stepped off the veranda.
Behind him, Grant had already restarted the argument about the goats.
“They might’ve been good goats.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Adele said.
Elara laughed.
Bryce kept walking.
By the time he reached the ute, he was laughing too.