Free Texas by Sarah Hay Page B

cattle.
    â€˜The owners want to turn this into a place for breeding brahmans,’ Susannah replied. She was sitting where John usually sat. ‘What these people don’t realise is that brahmans are better suited to the tropics. When you crossbreed them with shorthorn, the calves are bigger and they grow faster. They’re also tick resistant and they cope better in the heat.’
    Laura reached for the salt.
    Texas ‘You wouldn’t have seen them in England?’
    Laura paused, her fork about to enter her mouth. She put it back on her plate.
    â€˜No,’ she said, carefully. ‘I’ve never seen cattle like that before. But I visited a ranch in the Camargue in France. They had small black cattle. I don’t know what sort they were.’
    Laura picked up her fork again. She looked across the table. Strands of hair had escaped from Susannah’s ponytail and they hung lifelessly around her face. Her eyes might have been brown or hazel. Laura wasn’t confident enough to hold her gaze for any length of time. But she noticed that Susannah rarely varied the type of clothes she wore. It was always shorts and a T-shirt. This evening her T-shirt was red and the fabric appeared soft and faded as though it had been washed too many times. She might have been in her late twenties or perhaps she was older. Narrow lines marked either side of her mouth. Laura took a deep breath.
    â€˜I don’t think you really want me here.’
    Susannah’s knife and fork clattered on her plate. She looked at Laura, her eyes startled as though caught in bright light. Laura thought she might cry but then she stared past her, towards the window.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ she said after a moment, her gaze returning to Laura’s. ‘I didn’t mean for you to think that. Oh god, perhaps I did. It’s just that . . .’
    â€˜It’s okay,’ said Laura quickly. ‘I thought maybe I should leave. It’s not really what I expected anyway.’
    â€˜Oh no. Please . . . Don’t do that.’
    Susannah was frowning deeply. She pushed the hair back from her face. It was Laura’s turn to look away.
    â€˜It’s just that . . . he thinks he can make all the decisions.’
    Laura didn’t know what to say. She was embarrassed to have blundered into something so personal but it felt good for the words to have left her head.
    â€˜You must stay until the end of the season.’
    Laura realised the older woman was pleading.
    She was tempted to ask why, was it for her, or was it for some other reason? The thought of leaving was attractive, but then her travels had been planned around a station experience and if she left now, what else was there to do? Susannah cleared her throat and sat straighter in her chair. She reached over for Laura’s plate.
    â€˜You finished?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    Laura joined Susannah at the sink and together, they washed and dried the dishes. The noise the plates made when Laura set them down on the bench seemed unnaturally loud. But she wasn’t about to interrupt the silence again. Susannah stepped back.
    â€˜I’ve got something for you. Wait here.’
    A few minutes later she returned with a brown stockman’s hat.
    â€˜If you’re going to be working outside, you really need one of these. The sun’s fierce. You don’t want it to age you.’
    Later that night when the moonlight penetrated the dark corners of her room, Laura couldn’t sleep and it felt as though
    Texas her bed was floating. She raised her arm to remind herself it was connected to her body, so strange she felt in this place that seemed to have no definition. She was glad of the ceiling with its grey patches above her head, shielding her from the startling space of the sky. So she would stay for the season, whatever that meant. She wondered why she hadn’t been comforted by Susannah’s attempt at friendship. Perhaps because it had