The kitchen smelled of roast lamb and rosemary, steam curling off the mashed potatoes in the centre of the table. Bryce stood in the doorway with his Akubra in his hands, the screen door still ticking shut behind him, and for a moment he just took it in—the noise, the warmth, the clutter of a family dinner in full swing.
“You’re late,” Saige said from her seat, not looking up from her phone. “We started without you. Well, Mum made us wait. I was starving.”
“Saige.” Elara’s voice came from the stove, where she was carving the lamb with quick, practised strokes. She glanced over her shoulder, and her face softened. “Bryce. Come in. There’s a seat.”
He stepped inside. “Sorry I’m late. Fence took longer than I expected.”
Grant was already on his feet, crossing to the fridge for another beer. “Thought you’d have knocked that last section over pretty quickly.”
“Normally would. Ground was harder than I expected. Compressor threw a belt, so the pneumatic driver’s out until the new one arrives. Hence the hand driver today.”
Bryce set his hat on the bench by the door and moved to the table, where an empty chair waited beside Saige.
Saige finally looked up, her grin already forming. “The fence whisperer graces us with his presence.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It is now. I’ve decided.” She slid a bread roll across the table at him. It stopped against his forearm. “Eat.”
“Saige,” Elara said. “Let the man sit down first.”
Bryce sat. The chair creaked under him, and he realised how tired he was—the kind that sat deep in the bones after a day of honest work.
“So,” Grant said, settling back into his chair with a fresh beer, “how’s the fence line looking?”
“Getting there.”
“You’ll have it done by the weekend at this rate.”
“Maybe.”
For a moment the table was a flurry of reaching hands and passing bowls—gravy, peas, carrots, salt. Saige stole a piece of lamb off the platter before it reached her mother. Elara caught her wrist gently, and Saige grinned, unrepentant.
“So what’s the plan for the cabin?” Grant asked.
“Timber delivery Thursday. I’ll start framing after that.”
“You building it yourself?”
“Mostly.”
Grant leaned forward. “I’ve got a mate who does concreting. Could give you a decent price if you need—”
“I’ve got the footings sorted.”
“Right. Offer’s there.”
Saige rolled her eyes. “Dad, he said he’s got it.”
“I’m helping.”
Bryce looked at her. “He did help with the fence.”
Grant pointed at him. “See?”
“Mostly by talking.”
“That’s morale.”
Bryce found himself smiling despite himself.
The conversation moved around him—Saige complaining about something that had happened at school, a mare Grant was considering breeding, a new client wanting riding lessons. Bryce answered when spoken to and let the rest wash over him.
He wasn’t used to this.
Most nights he ate beside the caravan with the radio for company, surrounded by whatever part of the cabin he was working on. This—the noise, the clatter of cutlery, people talking over one another—was different.
After a while Grant looked across the table.
“So, the pump.”
Elara’s hand stopped halfway to her glass.
“Grant.”
“What? I waited until he’d eaten.”
Bryce looked between them. “What pump?”
“The one off the rainwater tank at the stables. It keeps stopping.”
Elara sighed. “He’s been working all day.”
“I’m only asking if he can look.”
Grant turned back to Bryce. “It starts, runs for a few seconds, then stops.”
Bryce nodded once. “I can have a look. No promises.”
Grant grinned. “That’s all I’m asking.”
Elara gave Bryce an apologetic look.
He shrugged. “It’ll take five minutes to tell you whether I can do anything with it.”
“See?” Grant said.
“That does not mean you’ve hired him.”
“I never said hired.”
Bryce kept eating.
By the time the plates were cleared, the evening had cooled. Saige stayed behind to load the dishwasher while Bryce followed Grant and Elara toward the stables.
The rainwater tank stood beside the building, catching runoff from the stable roof. A small pressure pump sat near its base, feeding the stable water system.
Bryce crouched beside it. “Switch it on.”
Grant did.
The pump started, ran unevenly for a few seconds, then stopped.
Bryce looked at the tank, then back at the pump. “Has the tank ever run empty?”
Grant frowned. “Couple of weeks ago. First time it’s ever happened.”
“Completely empty?”
“Yeah.”
Bryce nodded. “That’ll do it.”
“Do what?”
“Air lock. It’s lost its prime.”
He opened the bleed point. Air hissed out, followed by an uneven spit of water. Bryce waited until the flow became steady, closed it again, then nodded to Grant.
“Try it now.”
Grant switched the pump on.
This time it settled into a smooth, steady hum and kept running.
Grant stared at it. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“I’ve been swearing at that thing for a fortnight.”
“Did it help?”
“No.”
Bryce stood. “If the tank runs dry again, bleed the air out before you restart it.”
Grant nodded solemnly. “Right.”
Elara looked from the pump to Bryce. “How much do we owe you?”
“Nothing.”
“You came over for dinner and ended up fixing our water.”
“You fed me. And you both helped with the fence.”
“Grant helped with the fence.”
“Debatable,” Bryce said.
Elara laughed.
Grant pointed toward the stable yard. “While you’re here—”
Elara groaned. “No.”
“What?”
“You said one pump.”
“It’s just a hinge.”
Bryce looked at him. “Which hinge?”
Grant brightened immediately. “Gate near the small yard. It’s sagging.”
Elara shook her head. “You are shameless.”
Bryce headed toward the gate.
It did not take two minutes.
The lower hinge had worked loose enough for the gate to drop against the latch post. Bryce reset it, tightened everything properly, then opened and closed the gate twice.
“Done.”
Grant tested it. “Beautiful.”
Bryce picked up his tools.
Elara hesitated.
Bryce saw it. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“What else?”
She glanced toward the stables. “The latch on the far stall sticks.”
Grant started laughing.
Elara pointed at him. “Not one word.”
Bryce sighed, but he was smiling now. “Show me.”
The latch needed little more than realignment. Bryce loosened two bolts, shifted the keeper and tightened them again.
The door closed cleanly.
Elara tested it twice. “That has annoyed me for six months.”
Grant looked at her. “Six months?”
“I asked you to fix it.”
“You did?”
“Several times.”
Grant considered that. “Must’ve forgotten.”
Bryce packed the spanner away. “I’m leaving before either of you remembers anything else.”
Back at the house, Saige had finished the dishes and disappeared down the hallway.
Elara handed Bryce a container before he reached the door.
“What’s this?”
“Leftovers.”
“I don’t need—”
“Take it.”
Bryce looked at Grant.
Grant raised both hands. “Don’t involve me. I know when I’ve lost.”
Bryce accepted the container. “Thanks for dinner.”
“And the pump,” Elara said.
“And the gate,” Grant added.
“And the stall latch.”
Bryce put his hat on. “This is getting dangerously close to employment.”
Grant grinned. “See you tomorrow.”
“I didn’t say I was coming tomorrow.”
“Neither did I.”
Bryce stepped outside carrying enough roast lamb for another meal.