Published: 24 Jan 2022

Travis reached the Mt. Surprise hotel at closing and arranged accommodation. He accepted his room key in a daze then headed for his room, not only exhausted by totally disorientated.

“You’re Travis Brown aren’t you?” Rose Craddock the barmaid, a middle-aged cheerful woman who was everybody’s friend, asks. She had remembered Travis from his last visit and made it policy to do so with each visitor to the hotel. Then again a new face was a rarity at Mt. Surprise.

“Yes.”

“Are you alright son, you’re as white as a sheet,” She asks as she passed his room key.

“Yes thank you, I’ve had a long ride into town; I have left my horse in the back yard, as on my last visit, I hope that is alright.”

“That should be fine. It was originally for that purpose but seldom used these days, quite a novelty really.”

Travis wished to be away from company as quickly as possible and with a simple smile he broke conversation.

“Hang on there is a couple of letters here for you,” The barmaid searched through a collection of envelopes held in an old shoebox. Handing them to Travis she declared they arrived some time back and were about to be returned to the senders. Travis thanked Rose while scrutinising the hand writing. The first was definitely that of his mother, while the other he did not recognise. It was somewhat scratchy, childlike at best. Travis placed the envelopes in his pocket and retired to his room.

Inside his room Travis saw nothing but the bed. He was more exhausted than tied and felt defiled. He could still smell Morris foul breath on his person and feel the man’s invasion deep inside.

“I need to shower,” He admitted while reaching for the supplied towel placed neatly to the foot of his bed.

“Hot and long,” he sighed.

The shower room was at the end of the hotel’s landing and at that time of night empty. Inside the naked light bulb shone brightly. It was as if he had seen light for the first time since departing Bullock Creek. Somewhere in the distance the hotel generator powered continuously into the night, it was like music to him and its drone calmed his broken spirit.

The water fell heavy on his aching body massaging every nerve along his back, while soothing the fire left by Morris. Tears began to well and sadness gripped his throat. It was then he declared loudly into the emptiness of the shower room. “I am stronger than this. I’m not going to let the bastard get the better of me – I’m over it.”

Travis slept through the night, awakened past ten in the morning by the housemaid on her round to service the rooms. “Sorry love,” the plump sun weathered women apologised on opening the door, her longish hair comically tied back with bands on either side of her head to avoid blocking her sight.

“What time is it?” Travis asks, his voice croaked while pulling the sheet high to his chin. It was more an automatic question than a need to know the time of day, as he hadn’t formulated any plan.

“After ten, will you be staying on?” The jolly plump woman enquired, from behind a carrying of towels and sheets, the bangs of hair danced about as she spoke.

“Probably a few days, I’ll fix things at the bar this morning,” Travis answered.

“I’ll come back in half an hour – I’ll do the other rooms first,” the maid declared and quietly closed the door.

After another long shower and smelling of hotel soap, Travis returned to the bar to arrange further accommodation. Rose Craddock was busy cleaning and smiled broadly as he approached.

“Morning love,” She greeted and paused from her work, allowing the dust to once again settle from where it was stirred.

“Good morning Rose, I’ve decided to stay until after the weekend. Is the room free?” Travis asks from his cloud of indecision.

“Quiet time love, stay as long as you like,” Rose answered, “where are you from?” she added.

“All over – Mareeba I suppose but I’ve been working for Charles Morris.” The mere mention of Morris brought a shudder through his body. He shook it away and forced a smiled as he hounded the man from his thoughts.

“That bugger’s mad, mark my words the drunken bugger will kill someone one of these days; if not himself.”

“I didn’t know he drank?” Travis declared inquisitively.

“He does when he comes to town and most aggressive with it.”

“Does Luke Miles from Christmas Creek still come in?” Travis enquired, remembering his acquaintance with Luke on his only night-out while working for Morris.

“Like clockwork, every second Friday night and this Friday should be his day off.” Rose answered. Travis thanked the woman and remembering his correspondence he asked for paper to reply and returned to his room.

Firstly he opened the envelope he believed to be from his mother. It was so and as usual she was concerned not hearing from him for such a long time and hoped he would be home for his twenty-first birthday. Inside was a crisp five-pound note and ironed, giving it the appearance of being freshly minted. Travis smiled and returned the letter to its envelope while retrieving the second letter. Again he scrutinised the writing and was still baffled. He opened the envelope to perceive it to be from Bradley and like his speech phonetic. It wasn’t that Bradley’s English was poor but he had a hearing tick and pronounced some words as he heard them, therefore he spelled them that way.

Travis read.

‘Guess what mate, I have my own property. It’s only around a hundred acres or there about but good land and well watered near Tolga and behind the scrub. I’ve also got half a dozen horses and a few bullocks. Roy still want’s you to come back and work for him or me’.

Travis paused and for one instant would have accepted Bradley’s offer.

He read further.

‘Another thing, I have young Evan staying with me at the moment. He had a barney with his old man and left home, he’s turned out to be a good horseman but like you he makes a terrible wife,’ Travis smiled, remembering Bradley’s ironic humour.

He continued.

Another thing about Evan, he never shuts up about you and is waiting for that day in November when he is too meet up and as I told you once before he more than likes you.

Travis ignored Bradley’s final remark but did answer his letter, spending most of the morning penning a reply to Bradley, also to his mother, being careful not to sound anything but cheerful and healthy. Even telling a few white lies about the treatment received from the Morris family, being sure to declare it was time to move on that had taken him from that employment. Likewise he lied to Bradley as he would never be capable of finding the words to relate such maltreatment. Then feeling in the mood to write he penned a message to his Uncle Roy and yet another to Evan, showing care not to encourage Evan to any extent but did mention he had enjoyed his visit to Bullock Creek.

“Could I have four threepenny stamps?” Travis requested from Rose while placing his letters onto the bar.

“It will soon be four cents, or there about,” Rose suggested.

“True, I almost forgot about the change.”

“Umm, they should leave well enough alone – you have been busy,” She answered and supplied the postage. “Dinner will be served in a short while. Stew,” she apologetically offered, “I hope you like stew but our cook decided to leave and Mrs. Jenkins from down near the store is helping until we can fill the position.”

Travis smiled and remembering Bradley and Bullock Creek, declaring stew would be fine.

“I’ll send your letters on tomorrow’s down train,” Rose promised placing Travis’ envelopes in a small wooden tray with the word out in bold lettering marked on a piece of box card and roughly taped to its front. Travis felt comfortable with the placement. The simple word out brought him back to the real world, one with order and not full of madness as he had endured with the Morris family. Yet he felt for the boys, especially Rodney, he was a sad lost spirit looking for a way out. An exit Travis could not provide.

There was a commotion in the bar that Friday night as Travis entered. That is if seven drinkers could create a commotion to any extent. At the head of the tumult stood Luke Miles, he was down from Christmas Creek with news. Travis joined the bar and without ordering, Rose served him with a cold beer.

“Luke,” Travis greeted, “what’s going on?” As Travis spoke, Luke appeared as if he had seen a ghost.

“When did you leave the Morris’?” he asks with a gasp.

“Three days back – why?”

“Then as well, bring you beer and sit with me at a table,” Luke enforced while leading Travis away from the bar.

“What’s happened?” Travis asks his voice laced with darkening curiosity.

“Do you know Harry Jackson from the next property to Morris’?”

Travis admitted he had often seen him from a distance but hadn’t met the man. Harry Jackson owned the first property as one entered the valley. His house was less a mile from the Morris house but because of bad feelings between Jackson and Morris, Travis had never met him, except with a friendly wave while he was working his land.

“Well yesterday, Jackson was in his top paddock which runs quite close to Morris’ house and heard rifle shots coming from the Morris land. At first he didn’t concern as it was a common occurrence for Morris to shoot for no apparent reason. A short time later he saw smoke.” Luke paused. “Just as well you were gone mate,” he repeated, “just as flaming well.”

“What happened?” Travis pressed for Luke to continue.

“The mad old bastard shot everyone then after setting fire to his house shot himself.”

“Not the boys?” Travis gasped.

“I’m afraid so, his wife, the boys, the dogs and most of his stock – everything. The Mt. Surprise police are up there now and there is more coming from Mareeba tomorrow. They may want to talk to you,” Luke concluded.

“Sure I’ll go and see them as soon as they arrive.”

As he spoke Travis was overcome by a wave of guilt. Was it his leaving that toppled the old man over the edge but if he had stayed would he have also become a statistic? He could not say but related such to Luke.

“Don’t blame yourself, when I was working there I thought it would only be a matter of time before something like this happened. Ask anyone around they will tell you the same.” Luke’s words somewhat reassured Travis not to take blame, while thinking maybe it was fair punishment for what he had done to him but he could not reconcile killing the boys and his wife.

“What brought you to you’re senses about Morris?” Luke asks on returning from the bar with another round of beer.

“He had me digging a flaming useless trench from the creek to the vegetable garden,” Travis declared most indignantly, bringing laughter from Luke.

“He started me on that bloody job. I refused to do more then left.”

“The bastard also assaulted me.” Travis quietly added carefully choosing the word assault which he believed generic enough not to cause embarrassment.

“Assault! The bugger attempted to root me after I refused to dig his bloody trench but I was too quick for him. I grabbed what I could and walked to town, I was just past sixteen at the time and he still owes me a month’s wages.

“I wasn’t fast or strong enough,” Travis admitted sadly.

Luke withheld comment on Travis’ admission, he continued, “you realise he’s been molesting his boys for years,” his voice low and concerning.

“Why didn’t you report him?” Travis asks.

“Couldn’t get any proof and the boys wouldn’t admit to it.”

“I also had suspicions but as you said, the boys wouldn’t say so,” Travis agreed.

After more rounds the two settled into each others company. Surprisingly Luke’s character was similar to that of Travis, also sharing the same urge to go bush, except Luke had already done his travelling and was well over it, now happy in his routine life at Christmas Creek.

“Are you driving back tonight?” Travis asks as Rose Craddock called ‘last drinks’.

“I have to collect the stores from tomorrow’s train, so I’m booked in for the night.”

“What room?” Travis asks.

“Seven.”

“I’m next to you, why don’t we grab a bottle and sit in the cool on the landing.” Travis suggested.

The landing was peaceful, with a cool breeze coming along its length while crickets chirped loudly from the bougainvillea growing in abundance as a windbreak along the verandah’s length. Relaxing into a cane chair with a glass of ale Travis almost forgot the tragic plight of the Morris family. It was the singing of the crickets that drew him away as they were real unlike the madness he had just endured. Now the calmness and company of Luke soothed him into silence and once again that elusive rainbow returned to his inner thoughts.

It had been an age since either spoke and may have been longer except for an argument that erupted at the far end near the entrance to the bar. Soon it became apparent it was someone very drunk arguing with himself.

“Old Barney’s at it again,” Luke commented and opened their second bottle. As he did an angry voice boomed from the end room doorway, “shut that flaming racket Barney.”

“Who’s Barney?” Travis asks.

“The town drunk but he’s harmless,” Luke filled their glasses and sipped at the excess froth he had caused, “How do you feel about Morris?” he asks.

“Totally numb I should think to be a good answer.”

“Although not surprising,” Luke says somewhat bluntly.

“True but I feel for the boys, they weren’t bad boys and his wife, I am sure under different circumstances she would be a fine woman but Morris, I can’t say I have any feelings for him at all,” Travis answered while obviously examining Luke’s pouring skills.

“I never professed to be a barman did I?” Luke protested.

“She’ll do mate, tastes good.”

“How do you feel about -,” Luke didn’t finish his question but Travis knew where he was leading. He felt relaxed around his newly found friend and spoke freely.

“Not good but I’ll get over it,” Travis answered.

“I feel for you mate,”

“Huh,”

“Why the huh Travis?”

“Do you think old man Morris was bent?”

“Bent?”

“You know homosexual,”

“Possibly but I’m sure he was a pederast and if it was up to me I would have cut his nuts off.”

“Young Rodney asked me earlier in my stay if Morris did it to me, I didn’t twig at the time but now I guess to what he was suggesting,” Travis shared.

“Want another?”

“We’ve finished the bottle.”

“No worries Rose is still in the bar,”

“This will do, did you know Morris would take away their clothes so they couldn’t go outside.” Travis says.

“Yes, sometimes I would see the dirty old bugger hiding while spying on the boys,” Luke remembered.

“Oh well,” Travis concluded.

“So you are heading bush?”

“For a while.”

“Tell you what, I’ll give you some pointers where you can find fodder for your horse and permanent water and who to avoid, there are a few mad buggers out there,” Luke offered, “by the way do you have a rifle?”

“No I didn’t think of that.”

“You can get one at the general store; a twenty-two should do you. Don’t want to blast things to kingdom-come with a three-o-three although there are plenty of x-army supplies for sale. I suppose you can handle a rifle?”

Travis admitted he could although he hadn’t for many years and was never that good a shot.

“What couldn’t hit a barn door with buckets of rice at three paces?” Luke laughed.

“Yes something like that,” Travis admitted.

That night the news of the tragedy played more on Travis’ mind than the treatment he received from Morris. Firstly the conversational hum from beer garden kept him awake then the barking of a dog; distant and continuous. Eventually it yelped and the barking stoped as crickets beyond the verandah took the place of the dog, with the generator supplying orchestration to their chirping. Normally all this would have been nothing more than background noise but this night it added to the thought of the Morris Boy’s and even his usual habit of mentally listing countries couldn’t take his mind from the catastrophe at the Morris farm.

When sleep finally came it was short. Travis woke to shadows in the form of Morris in his room. Bolt upright and awake he shouted; “who’s there?” but found nothing but his racing heart. Weariness eventually took him from his torment and he fell into a troubled sleep, only to be awakened moments later by knocking to his door.

“Who is it?” he called.

“It’s Luke; breakfast will be served in a few minutes.”

“Have I time for a shower?” Travis called while pulling on his pants. Luke entered. “Woops, sorry,” he apologised as Travis’ naked backside disappeared beneath denim, “as long as you’re quick.”

The up train had been unsurprisingly delayed, as the line was old and built to service the mining industry and not general service. With time to spare Luke and Travis decided to explore the town. That is if three streets up and four down could be described as exploring or even if Mt. Surprise could be considered a town. At the general store Luke helped Travis choose a rifle and made sure he had ample ammunition. “There’s no shops’ out there in the bush for more you know,” he advised with a touch of irony. Then it was almost lunchtime and still the train had not arrived, so Luke returned to the general store come postal agency to book a call back to Christmas Creek to advise the delay.

During lunch Ian Gawler the proprietor of the Mt. Surprise hotel, called a further delay from the dining room doorway and offered to telephone Christmas Creek with the news. It appeared that during the recent rain there had been a washout somewhere near Petford and the line had to be shored before it was safe to cross.

“How would you like to take a swim?” Luke suggested on completion of their meal.

“Hot enough – where?” Travis answered. During the short time he had been at the Morris’ he had become well acquainted with the area and other than the lagoon on the Morris land, he believed there wasn’t another stretch of permanent water in at least a ten mile radius.

“I know a place a little south west of here, on a creek that flows into the Einasleigh River; it always has water and if you don’t mind the crocs.” Luke laughed.

“What crocs?”

“Don’t worry they’re only freshies, at worse they will only bite your dick off.”

“I hope not I’m rather partial to that part of my anatomy,” Travis shuddered.

“You don’t get much use for it out these ways,” Luke made light and assured Travis if there were crocks, he had never seen any and had visited his waterhole on many occasions and if so they would be more frighten of people than the reverse.

Christmas Creek’s truck was almost as old and battered as that of Morris’, except it fired on all cylinders and still had doors and unlike Morris, Luke drove as if he was a professional rally driver, using all of its gears with skill as he speeded along the narrow bush track while avoiding fallen trees and boulders.

As they travelled Luke shouted details of the local area over the roar of the motor and squeaking seats, where each side track lead and who owned the property. All of which was banal information but music to Travis’ ears. The western bush was opening to Travis like poetry and his eagerness to move on became stronger.

After a number of miles and the crossing of half a dozen dry creeks and one that flowed with a depth reaching the truck’s running board, they arrived at their destination, being that of long narrow lagoon stretching under native willows, with baked-earth banks and ample fresh green grass.

Red muddy water not unlike pumpkin soup gave territory to a flock of mallard ducks that took to flight as the truck turned the final bend.

“Should have brought your rifle,” Luke declared as the truck’s brakes squealed to halt under the shade of a stand of willows, “were here,” he added killing the motor, “What do you think?”

“Pumpkin soup,” Travis answered.

“What do you mean Pumpkin soup?”

“Red-brown muddy water but beautiful, it reminds me of the lagoon back on Cumberland downs,” Travis was pleased.

“It is clear once you get around that bend we’ll take a dip there, hey I know Cumberland Downs, my old man worked there when Jim Brown was manager,” Luke shared as he pointed towards the clearer water.

“Now ain’t it a small world,” Travis happily admitted.

“Why is that?”

“Jim Brown is my father and I was there for some time when I was a kid.”

“I never visited, if so I would have met you – Pity,” Luke admitted.

Travis released a smile of memory as after one such cooling dip in the Down’s lagoon he chanced to glance to its far end to discover a flock of crows feeding on a stinking carcass of a bullock that had bogged in the mud and died. It had been there some days before discovery and any attempt to pull the carcass from the water would end in it breaking apart, so it remained there to dissolve into the water or become carrion for crows and wild dogs. Still in Travis’ recollection he went swimming but at the opposite end of the water.

“There is always water here, even during the driest year,” Luke shared.

“No dead bullock?”

“No, why would you say that Travis?”

“Just a memory I had.”

The two stood indolently for some time surveying the still surface of the lagoon as the ducks returned to their daily routine within a patch of waterlilies, the pink flowers giving a splash of colour to an otherwise dull sunburnt landscape.

“Are you going to stand there all day admiring the scenery or are you going in?” Luke announced undressing down to his underwear.

Travis faltered.

“What’s the problem?”

“It’s alright for you but I’m not wearing jocks,” Travis declared coyly.

“I noticed that earlier this morning. Tell you what my shy friend; I’ll be fair,” Luke says and quickly discarded the last thread of decency away from his body, “does that make you feel better?”

Travis didn’t respond but did, if ever slowly, join Luke in nakedness upon the lagoon bank and was relieved when his friend turned and walked into the water away from Travis’ rising embarrassment. Travis followed now fully embarrassed, to stand neck deep in the coolness of the lagoon.

Soon conversation took away his discomfort.

“Ahh,” Luke exclaimed rising from ducking his head beneath the water. A light cough from an intake and he continued, “I love swimming naked.”

“I’ve never had much chance,” Travis admitted.

“It’s like a hundred sheila’s hands caressing your body and at once.”

“Poetic,” Travis laughed.

“Well it does bring you on,”

Travis gave a nervous chortle while unsure how to interoperated Luke’s analogy.

“Not sexually mind you but I suppose it could if you were leaning that way. I mean it strips away all social expectation,” Luke paused and took a deep breath, “sorry mate I guess I’m thinking aloud.”

“No I like your philosophy. Where are you from Luke?”

“I was born in Brisbane but gone from there before memory developed and in the early days my parents went from property to property and I to boarding school in Charters Towers.”

“I was at the Herberton Methodist Hostel,” Travis informed, feeling a little inferior to the regimented culture of the Tower’s boarding school.

“I’ve heard about it,” Luke admitted.

“All good I hope,”

“More it was badly run,”

“What about your parents?”

“Like your old man, dad is a stockman and I guess mum goes along as if for the ride but she loves the solitude of station life, they are managing a property up Cooktown way these days.”

“I wish I had known you back then.”

“Yes it could have been fun,”

After a quick dog-paddle towards the centre of the lagoon, it was back closer to the bank, where they paused in discussion. Travis listened carefully to Luke’s advice while making ripples with his arms, watching as the ripples radiated towards the bank, slowing on their journey along the lagoon towards the water lilies and ducks.

“How long will you be travelling?” Luke asks, his eyes following the rippling water.

“I haven’t put a time on it; a month, a year a few days.”

“Won’t you get lonely?” Luke says remembering his own travelling and how he pined for conversation.

“I don’t think so but I need to get it out of my system,” Travis answered.

“What about girls? They don’t grow from gum-trees you know.”

Travis made a sound in his throat but didn’t answer.”

“Do you have a girlfriend back in Mareeba?” Luke asks.

“No but you are starting to sound like my mother, she is always trying to match me with one girl or another,”

They both laughed.

“Sounds like my mother,” Luke joked, “you know going bush is like joining the Catholic Priesthood.”

“Why so?”

“It becomes an excuse for not having to chase girls without being branded as disinterested,” Luke’s declaration was delivered with a touch of honesty and plucked a string of sameness within Travis.

“Don’t you like girls?” Travis asks.

“It isn’t a matter of like or dislike; they scare the shit out of me,” Luke responded with a slight titter.

“Do you think you will marry?”

“Possibly one day, maybe, who knows but she will have to do the asking – what about you?”

At that moment Travis squealed.

“What’s the matter?” Luke asks jumping at his friend’s outburst.

“Something touched my foot,” Travis froze.

“Just a catfish, the lagoon’s loaded with them, or possibly a terrapin.”

“What a taipan!”

“No a terrapin turtle not a snake,” Luke mocked realising the word was similar to taipan.

“Not one of your crocs?” Travis asks nervously.

“Have you still got your dick?” Luke laughed at his friend’s nervous state.

“Of course I have, do you want to check,” Travis quickly retorted before he could censor his somewhat personal response.

“Then it wasn’t a croc,” Luke replied without acknowledging the suggestion, leaving Travis somewhat embarrassed from his utterance.

“You know Travis in some ways I wish I was coming with you,” Luke sighed while lightly splashing water over Travis’ head, causing long wet strands to hang like dark strings from his crown. Travis brushed them back from his sight.

“Aren’t you happy at Christmas Creek?”

“More than happy and the family treats me like their son. In truth as they don’t have children of their own, have written me into their will but each day is the same as the one before and I don’t know if I can live a lifetime like that.”

“I suppose unless you’re rich we all have that problem and even the rich get bored with their lot.”

“I guess your right but we should be heading back; the train will be in soon and the perishables won’t last if left in the sun.”

Luke was first to leave the water. Rivulets tracked down his youthful back to disappear into the well developed valley of his buttocks as he stood for a time allowing the hot sun to do its drying.

Travis hesitated. His friend’s nakedness had once again aroused him. Now the image of Luke’s nakedness was embossed into his memory with that of Bradley and no length of time was going to deflate his rising problem.

“Are you coming?”

“I,” Travis says and paused, ‘I what?’ he thought while frozen chest deep in the water unwilling to embellish on his singular pronoun.

“Come on,” Luke repeated as the corner of his mouth turned into a generous smile while obviously aware of Travis’ predicament.

Travis remained hesitant.

“Come on,” Luke again repeated.

“I’ll be embarrassed,” Travis complained.

“Why?”

“What do you think?”

“Dunno, come on, I haven’t got all day,” Luke beckoned to his friend with an encouraging hand.

“I’ve got a stiff,” Travis’ face flushed scarlet with embarrassment while lowering his eyes away from his friend’s body.

“You’ll have to come out eventually and I don’t think I can wait until after dark.” Luke folded his arms across his bare chest, while his developing smile turned into a broad smirk. It was true, Travis would have to eventually leave the water and with Luke standing naked on the bank he had little control over his thoughts, so with his head low, Travis quickly advanced to the bank.

“Now that wasn’t hard was it?” Luke laughed while emphasising the word ‘hard.’

As he walked to his clothes Travis attempted to hide his erection with his hands but alas most of it stood firm and visible, “I’m not used to being naked in public.”

“What about at the hostel?” Luke asks.

“That was different as I was a kid. You could at least turn away,” Travis complained.

“I could.” Luke replied but he didn’t until Travis had once again dressed. Nothing more was spoken on Travis’ rising embarrassment but if nothing else the occasion did extend awareness he was more than attracted to the male form and was more than happy to be travelling alone not to be reintroduced to the rising heat in his sexuality.

At the station Travis helped Luke load Christmas Creek’s supplies into the truck while Luke made conversation with the train driver who complained long and bitterly about the condition of the line and that there was talk towards closing the line altogether. “How will we get our supplies if it does?” Luke concerned.

“Not the railway’s problem young fella’, like other places without a service, you will need to drive into Mareeba or elsewhere.”

“It won’t happen,” Luke disagreed.

The driver laughed at Luke’s optimism.

“If the line is closed the shire will need to upgrade the roads.”

“Now ain’t that a fact; best be getting on or I’ll be hearing it from Forsayth, won’t get there until after midnight as it is.”

“Has there been any decision when this may occur,” Luke asks.

“In railway time I should think and that is as slow as you can get.”

With the train once again on its way and the truck loaded, Luke turned to Travis, “well for now I guess this is it.”

He offered his hand.

“I guess so,” Travis kept hold of the offering for some time and Luke allowed so.

“If you’re passing Christmas Creek call in.”

“I will for sure,”

“I enjoyed our swim,” Luke says.

“It was fun,”

Luke released his hold and with a smile and nod climbed into the truck and started the motor. He let it run for a time and took a deep breath. “I’ll be seeing ya,”

“Yep;”

And Luke was gone.

Gary’s stories are about life in Australia as a gay man. Your emails to him are the only payment he receives. Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net

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