Blackpeak Station by Holly Ford Page A

She went ballistic.’
    ‘Here you go, girls!’ Owen thrust two plastic cups at them. ‘Get that down you.’ He grinned at Jen. ‘So tell me about this bloke of yours, then.’
    ‘What?’ Jen looked startled.
    ‘Matt said you had some mystery man up north.’
    Charlotte started to giggle.
    ‘Was he having me on? Nah — a pretty girl like you can’t be single?’
    Jen raised her eyebrows and sipped her beer. ‘Looks like I am tonight.’
     
    Sunday morning dawned as fine and clear as the days before it, and in spite of any hangovers there might have been, the shearing got off to a flying start. Blackpeak’s regular gang was one of the best around, with South Island reps on the top three stands, and the rousies struggled to keep up as fleece after fleece hit the boards. Charlotte and Jen worked to keep the pens full. At the end of the day, a thousand sheep stood wool-less in the yards, expressions of vague surprise on their faces.
    The week passed in a blur of flying wool, sweating bodies and flashing brooms. By the end of Thursday, the gang was done and the beers came out again. They hadn’t missed a day. Friday morning came, the weary shearers packed up, and still — despite the storm forecast to lash the east coast — the high country skies were clear as a bell.
    Finally, around evening, a few clouds began to gather behind the hills. Charlotte, driving home from setting the dry ewes on higher pasture, watched the bank mount in her wing mirrors and breathed a sigh of relief. A good overnight shower on this warm soil and tomorrow the grass would be growing.
    The prospect ahead of the ute was less welcome. Zoe was coming for dinner tonight. Charlotte had invited her herself. A thank you for helping Kath cook for the shearers — help for which, it had occurred to Charlotte too late, Zoe might well expect to be paid. She was hoping to fob her off with a celebration roast and a bottle of Andrea’s best chardonnay.
    To her surprise, the evening went well. Everyone wasrelaxed. After two weeks of non-stop slog, they had the day off tomorrow. Asked to make things special, Kath had dusted off the formal dining room, got the silver out and put on some music instead of the news. The fireplace crackled, and the wine and stories flowed. When the plates were cleared, Charlotte even managed a little team-building speech before she presented Zoe with her bottle.
    ‘Oh, how lovely,’ Zoe said, seeming genuinely touched. She eyed the cluster of emptying bottles on the table. ‘I’ll put it in the car right now so I don’t forget it.’
    Charlotte refilled Rex’s glass. ‘Here’s to a great year ahead.’
    They’d barely finished clinking glasses when Zoe, still clutching her wine, stuck her head back round the dining room door. Her eyes were shining. ‘Come and look, everyone!’ she breathed rapturously. ‘Everything’s white — it’s snowing!’
     
    They scrambled to the trucks through snow already calf-deep , fat flakes of it whirling from the sky to settle on their shoulders. Even as they went, it began to fall faster, sweeping horizontally now, carried on the rising wind.
    ‘Come on, come on!’ Charlotte banged the steering wheel as the Hilux refused to start.
    Even the dogs were slow to move, lying huddled in their kennels, looking out as surprised as anyone at the growing blizzard outside. In the bay shed behind, Charlotte could hear Rex trying to coax the ancient bulldozer into life, the starter motor whirring again and again before, at last, the engine turned.
    Rex headed out, blade down. Charlotte and Jen followed in his cleared track, snow swarming in their headlights. Charlotte could barely make out the silhouette of Mattstanding on the back of the dozer up ahead, spotlighting the way.
    The wind was driving straight at them, and they had to stop and dig out the first gate. Not far past it, the bulldozer swerved and lurched to a halt again, and Charlotte, forced to brake, swore as the Hilux skidded.