Free Riverboat Point by Tricia Stringer Page A

back way it is,” he said. “Get on.”
    â€œYou get on,” Blake said. “I’ll be right.”
    Ethan stopped the head shake he was going to give and threw his leg over the bike. If Blake wanted to be pig-headed about it there was nothing to be done. He felt the bike shift under the extra weight as Blake climbed on behind him. A hand hooked into the top of his jeans and the corresponding knee wedged against his thigh. Looking down he could see Blake’s right leg stuck out at an angle. This was going to be awkward. If only he hadn’t promised Savannah he’d be back by three. Better still, Blake should have stayed another day with their parents.
    â€œI’m ready.” Blake’s voice was brusque.
    Ethan kicked the bike into life and eased it forward, turning in a long slow arc towards the track that would lead them across country, over hills and through the rough creek crossing to Blake’s house.
    The track was good in places and rough as guts in others. The creek crossing had been eroded by cutaways. Ethan tried to follow previous tracks made by the farm ute but it was tough going. Each time he had to stop to open and close a gate he took his time over it, giving his brother the chance to rest. At the last gate Blake got off the bike. They’d left the grazing country behind. This was his land – fertile cropping country. Hard to believe the difference a few kilometres could make. Blake took off his helmet and wobbled out into an almost waist-high paddock of canola. The long green stems reached skyward covered in buds promising flowers very soon. He bent over the stalks then slowly made his way back to where Ethan was waiting beside the bike.
    A grin split Blake’s face. With his black eye, pale skin and stubbly chin he looked ghoulish.
    â€œAll the crops are looking good but this canola is going to be a goldmine for us.”
    Ethan looked over the paddock of waving green plants. The strong sweet smell of opium poppies swamped him and he was back in the narrow fertile valley in Uruzgan. The survival of those crops was literally life and death for the poor farmers who tended them. While he understood his brother’s delight, a low yield wouldn’t bring about his death.
    â€œLooks promising,” he said.
    â€œDon’t get too excited, little bro.”
    Ethan gave a small shake of his head. “It’s early days and farming’s –”
    â€œNot your thing.” Blake cut him off. “I know.”
    He turned back towards the crop. Ethan followed his gaze. He’d been going to say unpredictable.
    â€œIt’s got to be a bumper,” Blake murmured.
    Ethan remained silent. They always paid him for any work he did for them but other than that he knew little of the farm finances.
    â€œI need this one to pay off,” Blake said. “I nearly lost it with the divorce.”
    That was old news, Ethan thought. Blake’s ex, Lucy, had been a bitch through and through. Blake didn’t discover that until after he married her. Luckily their parents had made sure the two properties were in separate names, otherwise she could have wiped out the lot.
    â€œYou came to an arrangement. I thought she wasn’t going to take the kids’ inheritance?”
    â€œNot until she’d bled it dry. Lucy’s been playing that card ever since.” Blake looked back at Ethan. “Now she’s found some other schmuck to marry her. I can cut her loose as long as I pay for the kids. I’ve got no problem with that but her final payment will be a big one. It will be worth it to be rid of her but by the time we’ve done the paperwork and paid the lawyers …” His words trailed away.
    Once more he cast his eyes over the canola crop. Ethan looked up. It was a warm day for September. He was hot standing still in his riding gear. He wasn’t sure if they needed heat or rain at this stage. Whatever it was he hoped