Chapter 6

When Albie had saidhe hoped Percy liked snoring, he wasn’t kidding. Both Des and Robert snored so loud it was like he had competing logging teams at either end of the room.

Needless to say, he didn’t sleep much.

But the bed was warm and dry in spite of the rain outside, and Percy had a good feeling about his job here. Both Des and Robert were decent fellows. He recalled what those two gossiping men in town had said about the two men who’d stayed with Albie. A cripple and a drunk.

Well, yes, Des had a pronounced limp but he wasn’t crippled, and Robert never touched a drop all night. He drank water with dinner and made tea over the fire before bed.

Proof, for Percy, that those men in town had no clue about the truth.

And sure, what Albie lacked in age and experience, he made up for with grit and determination. He had a fire under him to prove his worth, and Percy liked that about him.

Percy liked a lot of things about Albie...

The way he’d fitted his coat to him and squeezed his hand to feel how cold he was. How warm his touch had been.

And that blasted smile.

Visions of which plagued his mind while Des and Robert snored the night away. Or maybe he’d have slept some if he hadn’t been thinking so hard about Albie...

Percy was up before the sun. No point in lying in bed when there was work to be done. He slipped his boots on as quietly as he could, pulled his hat down, shrugged into Albie’s warm coat, and went outside.

It had rained all right.

The skies were still cloudy, sunrise doing its best to break through, but at least it wasn’t raining now. Percy trudged through the mud to the stables to check on the horses first thing.

The stables were dry, the horses content. He fixed them some hay and carried buckets of water up from the well, sliding a few times in the icy mud underfoot.

When that was done, he collected the eggs from the coop and knocked on Albie’s back door.

Albie opened the door, confused and alarmed. He was dressed, thankfully. The sun was almost up now, so he’d assumed Albie would be awake.

He held his upturned hat full of eggs. “I collected the eggs already, but my boots are all muddy. I don’t want to come inside.”

Albie blinked a few times, then shook his head and finally looked down at Percy’s feet. “Give me this,” he said, taking the hat. “Take your boots off. Are you trying to die up here? You’ll catch your death if your feet get wet in winter.”

Percy pulled his boots off, showing holes in his socks at the big toes. He walked to the edge of the veranda and clapped his boots together to get rid of most of the mud.

Albie looked annoyed. “Come inside and bring them by the fire.”

The house was exactly as he’d left it last night. Modest, meagre old furniture. But boy, it sure felt like a home.

Albie put the eggs on the table and stirred a pot on the stove. “You’re up early,” he said, not looking at him.

Percy grimaced anyway. “You weren’t wrong about the snoring.”

Albie shot him a look. He kind of smiled, kind of didn’t. “Loud, huh?”

“I’ll get used to it,” he replied, smiling. “Can I help with anything in here?”

Albie looked around the kitchen. “Uh. You could set the table.”

“Sure!” Percy made himself busy doing that, then tidied up the firewood beside the fire where a few logs had tumbled.

“I hope you like porridge.”

“Love it,” Percy said. “Especially in winter. Nothing better than a bowl of hot porridge on a cold morning.”

“Well, you might want to wait until you taste it,” Albie said. Then he took another damper out of the oven and slid it onto the stovetop.

Percy couldn’t help himself. “Oh, you cooked it medium today.”

Albie shot him another look, but it was followed by a grin. “Don’t forget who’s cooking it at dinner time.”

Percy smiled right back at him, his belly full of butterflies. “Already looking forward to it. Everybody needs some charcoal in their diet.”

The front door burst open, and Des stopped when he saw Percy. “Oh, there you are,” he said. “Thought you’d done a runner when your bed weren’t slept in.” He stepped back outside and hollered to Robert. “Found him!”

When he came back inside, he acknowledged Albie with a nod. “Morning. Sorry for the intrusion. Thought we mighta had a quitter.”

“A quitter?” Percy cried. “I ain’t ever quit on a job yet.”

“He’s already been and collected the eggs,” Albie said, nodding to the hat on the counter.

“And the horses,” Percy added. “And I checked on the pigs and the dogs.”

Robert came inside, a little out of breath. He gave Percy a nod before he spoke to Des and Albie. “Went to see if his horse was still there, and they’ve already been fed and got fresh water.”

“I took it from the well, just like you said,” Percy said to Des.

Des eyed him. “You allergic to sleeping or something?”

“He’s allergic to snoring,” Albie said, taking the pot of porridge to the table.

Percy groaned, wishing Albie hadn’t told them. “I’ll get used to it,” he said. He brought the damper over as Albie fixed the hot tea. “Better to be busy anyway,” he said, trying to pick up the mood. “If I’m helping make dinner tonight, I need to make sure all my chores are squared away early, right?”

Albie took his seat, as did Des and Robert, so Percy did the same.

He had to admit the porridge wasn’t the best-looking gruel he’d ever seen, and it certainly wasn’t the tastiest. But it was hot and enough to fill his belly, and for that, he’d always be grateful.

He’d gone hungry too many times in the last few months to not appreciate any food he was offered.

Not to mention sitting at a table where he actually felt welcome.

“What have you got me doing today?” Percy asked Des when they were done eating and enjoying the last of their tea.

“We need to bring up the cattle herd from the southern end,” he said. “If they’re gonna go to market.”

Percy couldn’t help but grin. “For real?”

Des frowned at his excitement. “You ever worked with cattle before?”

“Well, no. I’ve worked with sheep.”

“Sheep?” Albie asked.

Percy managed a nod, his breakfast suddenly feeling like a lump in his belly. “I grew up on a sheep farm,” he admitted. “I’m guessing they can’t be too different from cattle.”

Robert laughed. “Oh, this should be good.”

Albie made a face. “More importantly, has your horse ever worked with cattle before? In the mountains?”

Percy felt all eyes on him. “Uh, no? I, ah, I don’t think so.”

Albie turned to Des. “Put him on Minnie.”

Des gave a hard nod and Percy tried to object, but Albie wasn’t having it. “Minnie’s part mountain goat, I’m sure of it. She knows what to do, especially around cattle. Until your horse gets used to it, you’ll ride her.”

That was Boss Albie speaking, so Percy didn’t argue again.

“When we bring the cattle into the yards,” Des said. “We bring your horse into the fold. He’ll learn soon enough.”

Percy felt better then, and he afforded Des a grateful smile. “Of course.”

With that settled and breakfast had, it was time to get to work. Albie was staying at the house. He had business matters to work on, apparently, though Percy kinda got the feeling this was more of a test on Percy.

Maybe Albie wanted to see how he worked under Des, how he followed orders and used his head.

Percy couldn’t blame him for that. It was fair. He’d have to prove himself for a while yet, he reasoned. He gave Bandit a scratch before climbing up on Minnie and following Des and Robert out.

The ground was mud, the air was biting cold and clean. The sun was barely recognisable behind the low grey clouds, and the further they got from the homestead, the steeper the terrain got.

Des and Robert were cautious on their horses, never pushing too hard, letting them set the pace. There were craggy boulders of granite everywhere, the whole area thick with trees, shrubs, and long grass.

Until it flattened out a little and there were some well-trodden muddy paths through the bush, which they then followed until, sure enough, Percy spotted his first cow.

A Hereford.

“Look,” he said, pointing.

Des nodded further up ahead and there was half a herd.

Percy was so excited. This was magical.

“I’ll go left,” Robert said, steering his horse off the muddy path.

“Come on,” Des said, nudging his horse to the right. “Percy, you’re with me. Let Minnie do the work. Don’t fight her.”

“Okay,” he said eagerly.

Now, he had been born and raised on a sheep farm, and yes, he’d seen horsemen work flocks of sheep. He could manage along with the best of them, even as young as thirteen, he was out there working the sheep with grown men.

But he ain’t ever worked cattle, and truth be told, he wasn’t sure exactly what Des had meant about letting Minnie do the work. A rider was always the one in charge. But he didn’t doubt Albie or Des. And he might not have known how to work cattle, but he knew horses.

And some were smarter than people. So if they said to put Minnie in charge, that’s what he’d do.

And oh boy.

It was all he could do to hold on.

She turned on a dime, cutting cattle in and out, rounding them up, always keeping the advantage and never stopping, until they had the herd heading for home.

Percy grinned the whole way back, despite the sleet and misty rain and the freezing cold.

It was hard work. He was panting and muscle-sore. But he’d loved every minute of it.

When they got back to the homestead, Albie was at the front paddock, gate open, and the cattle funnelled through. Except one cow tried to break away; Minnie darted for it, and it quickly fell back into line. Percy laughed and cheered. “Best day ever!”

Albie shook his head, but it did get a smile out of him, and he headed back to the house.

Des ordered the horses back to the stable. “I’ll tend to the horses,” Percy volunteered. He slid down off Minnie and took the reins of Des’ horse. “Leave them with me.”

They did, and a short while later, he had all horses unsaddled, brushed, and safely in their stables with some fresh hay as a reward. Then he went in search of Des.

“Albie wants to see you,” Des said.

So he went in search of Albie. Found him inside, clanging pans in the kitchen, but there were books strewn across the table. Well, he didn’t find Albie so much as his backend poking out, his head in the bottom shelves, muttering and cussing to himself.

He admired the view for half a second before he cleared his throat. “You wanted to see me?” Percy asked.

Albie donked his head on the shelf and stood up, rubbing the spot. “Ow.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I wasn’t being quiet or nothing. You were just...” He gave a pointed nod to the bottom shelf. “Busy.”

“I was looking for... never mind,” he said. Clearly, he wasn’t in the best mood. “You enjoyed your morning,” he noted, walking past Percy to the table where he began to tidy up the books. “Des said you did well, considering.”

Considering he’d never done it before.

“I think I can give full credit to your horse,” Percy replied. “I just had to hang on. Des said to trust her, and he was right. Is your head all right? You banged it pretty hard.”

That gave Albie some pause and he sighed, settling on a smile. “It’s fine, thank you.”

They stared at each other for a moment until Percy’s heart squeezed. He let out a breath. “Des said you wanted to see me.”

“Ah, yes.” Albie turned away, seemingly annoyed again. “If you want to make the damper for tonight, you’ll need to get started.”

“Oh, of course.” Percy hadn’t realised the time. He couldn’t help but notice the edge to Albie’s clipped tone or the way he was handling those books. “Is everything good?”

“Yes, of course, it’s just...” Albie shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“It is something,” Percy pushed. “You can tell me. I won’t tell Des or Robert.”

Albie looked at him then, his eyes fierce, but something in them gave way, defeated. “I’m not very good with this stuff,” he blurted out, frowning at the books he held. “This was my father’s business. He understood it. The percentages and taxes and stock prices. I can’t make heads nor tails of it. I’ve wasted a whole day. I can barely—” He stopped there, mad at himself again.

“You can barely what?” Percy asked quietly.

Albie swallowed. “My mother taught me to read,” he said quietly. “And I was six years old when she died. My father tried to pick up where she left, and old Mrs West tried, though she had no patience for children. And I tried to keep going with it, teaching myself. I would read my father’s papers at night, to try and improve, but I thought I’d have time... before I’d have to do this myself.” He pushed the books as if it were their fault. Then he raised his chin, defiant. “I can read enough to get by. To sign papers or order stock at the store. I can do basic sums to know the price...”

“But finance ledgers are hard,” Percy said gently.

“I can run this place. I can round up cattle and plant crops. I can keep horses and that out there”—he said, gesturing to the door—“is easy. But this...” He stacked the books neatly again. “This is not.”

“I can teach you,” Percy said. “To read. Properly, that is. And maths.” He shrugged. “Just between you and me. No one else has to know.”

Albie stared at him for a long beat. “You know how to read?”

Percy nodded. “I went to school.”

“School? A real school?”

He smiled sadly and nodded again. “I did.”

“Where did you come from? You said Kiama,” Albie said quietly. His eyes bored into Percy’s as if he was trying to put puzzle pieces together. “Or perhaps a better question is why did you leave?”

“Because...” Percy began, his stomach a tight knot. He wasn’t sure what he could say, or how to answer honestly but not give anything away. “I left for me.”

Robert burst through the door with barely a knock. “Albie, we got company.”

Company?

“Who is it?” he asked, going to the door to see for himself.

“Two men on horses,” Robert said.

Des came walking down the veranda, slower with his bad leg. “Looks like one of McAllister’s men.”

Albie seethed, his gaze narrowing.

Percy had heard the name McAllister in certain circles from his time in town. He was wealthy, powerful. When he spoke, men listened.

So this couldn’t possibly be good.

Percy saw the two men approach the house. They never got off their horses, so Albie stepped out onto the veranda. Robert stood by the window, watching, Des on the veranda beside Albie, and Percy stood in the doorway.

“Albie,” one of the men said. He pulled a letter from his coat pocket. “From Mr McAllister.”

Albie studied him for a minute before he took a step forward. Percy was quick to stop him, instead stepping off the veranda to retrieve the letter on Albie’s behalf.

The man’s smile wasn’t a friendly one.

The second man tipped his hat. “Des.”

“Williams,” Des replied flatly.

Albie crossed his arms. “I see you found yourself a new job.”

“No hard feelings,” Williams said, though the smug look on his face told Percy otherwise. He could guess that perhaps Williams was one of the men who’d walked out after Albie’s father’s funeral.

“No hard feelings at all,” Albie said coolly.

They turned their horses, hard on the reins, which Percy didn’t care for. And when they’d gone a few yards, Williams nodded to the cattle. “Good luck at the saleyards next week,” he said, and they both laughed as they trotted up the drive.

Albie seethed at their backs, and Percy handed him the letter.

Robert headed toward the stable. “I don’t trust them not to leave the gate open,” he yelled, taking off to run for his horse. He came back out on his horse a second later, bareback, still fixing the bridle as they took off up the driveway.

The three of them went inside, all eyes on Albie as he opened the letter.

He unfolded the heavy paper, and Percy could see it was the fancy kind, the writing elegant calligraphy in blue ink.

Albie frowned at it.

“To Albie Bramwell,” he read out loud.

“In t... times of...” He squinted at the letter, then looked up, furious. “His writing is not legible. How does he expect anyone to read this?”

He eyed the fire and then the letter and took a step toward it, but before he could toss it into the flames, Percy stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“Let me try,” he said gently. Then he felt the need to shrug and explain. “My grandfather’s handwriting was like that. I can try to read it if you want. Then if you decide to burn it, I won’t stop you.”

Albie growled and thrust the letter toward Percy. He took it and began to read aloud.

In times of grief, we sometimes cannot see clearly. But when the clouds of mourning clear, truths often come to light. I hope you can see now the truth of your situation, young Albie. It is not your doing, simply a situation you find yourself in.

McAllister Holdings hereby offers Albert Bramwell the reputable sum of five thousand pounds for the title deeds to Echo Creek.

Your father was a good man. I trust you’ll honour his memory and do what is right. These mountains make mockeries out of lesser men. Don’t let your father’s name be one of them.

Signed, Royce McAllister.

Percy swallowed hard and looked up then. Des was shaking his head, but Albie... Albie was seething fire.

“I will do no such thing,” he said, his voice low. Then the bubble of anger burst and he went for his coat. “I’ll go and tell McAllister exactly what I think of his offer?—”

Percy stopped him, again holding his arm. Des blocked the door. “Albie, no,” Des said.

Percy agreed. “You can’t go there. You can’t go onto his land and declare war on a powerful man in his own house.”

“Yet he can come onto mine—” he cried.

“Prove you’re the better man,” Percy tried again.

“Percy’s right,” Des added. “Going over there now would be like walking into a snake pit.” He shook his head. “He’ll only make things more miserable for you, and you don’t want him as your enemy.” He patted his bad leg. “Trust me.”

Albie’s breath left him in a rush, deflated. “How dare he think he can insult me like that. Insult my father. He wants to talk about honouring my father, then he should do the same.”

“The likes of McAllister honour nothing but money and greed,” Des said quietly. “He’s after a reaction, Albie. Don’t give him what he wants.”

Percy only realised then that he still had his hand on Albie’s arm. He let go, missing the touch immediately.

“Give him the opposite of what he wants,” Percy suggested. “Reply to his letter, thanking him for his kind words during this difficult time. Thank him for the generous offer but you believe the best way to honour your father is to prove you are the man he raised.”

Albie’s eyes met Percy’s. Honesty and understanding stared back at him, pools of warmth Percy wanted to get lost in.

“Being overly nice to him will piss him off because it proves you won’t stoop to his level,” Percy added. “And then you prove you are worthy by working hard and taking those cattle to market this week. Not next week, those lying cowards. Did you hear what they said?”

Albie nodded, and Des looked between them. “You’re sure the market’s this week?”

Albie nodded. “There was talk of it coming forward.”

“And signs at the bullock run,” Percy added. “There’s logging work out on the eastern pass. And I heard men talking about it in the bar. It’s definitely this week.”

“I don’t trust them,” Albie added quietly.

“We should leave tomorrow,” Des added. “In case there’s been another change.”

Albie nodded. “Agreed.”

Robert came back inside. “Gate was wide open.”

“Those low belly snakes!” Albie said. “Any cattle get out?”

Robert shook his head. “No. Not that I could see. None of them were near the gates at all.”

Albie gave him a pat on the arm in thanks. “We’re going to leave tomorrow, take the cattle down the mountain.”

Robert gave a hard nod. “I’ll get us ready.” And he was out the door again.

Des watched Albie for a long moment. “Keep your head down, Albie. You’re doin’ fine.”

He followed Robert out, leaving Percy and Albie alone in the house.

“Are you all right?” Percy asked. He certainly didn’t look it.

“My father tolerated McAllister for the same reason everyone else does. Because he has the power to ruin people, and McAllister knows it.”

“It’s a game the likes of him play,” Percy offered. “It helps to know the rules, but you don’t need to play his game.”

“I can’t be bought,” he muttered. “And five thousand pounds.”

It was a lot of money.

“It’s insulting,” Albie said, glaring at the fire. “My father’s name is worth more than that.”

Percy couldn’t help it. He went to him and put his hand on his shoulder and gave him a squeeze before rubbing his upper arm. “Your name is worth more than that.”

Albie’s gaze cut to his, his eyes melting into him. And they were too close, too alone, and Albie was far too...

Too tempting.

Percy swallowed hard and took a step back, and Albie shook his head as if he’d been caught in a trance.

“Damper,” Percy said, his face burning. “Bread. Dinner. Did you still need me?”

Albie only seemed to remember... “Yes, right.”

His cheeks were flushed pink too and Percy wished he hadn’t noticed.

What did that mean?

Surely not...

Albie lifted the lid to the pot on the stove. “I’ve added carrot and more potatoes,” he said, stirring it, staring at it, not looking at Percy. “The bowl to mix the flour is down there.”

Percy found it on the bottom shelf, and Albie nodded to the sack of flour. He set about sifting the flour with salt. He added a dash of milk and some chunks of butter and began to knead it.

“Butter and milk?” Albie said.

Percy wasn’t sure if he was horrified or offended. “Well, yes. Do you... do you not use that? Was I allowed to use the butter?”

Albie blinked and shrugged. “Well, yes. I mean, sure. I’ve just never...”

Percy laughed, kneading the dough with the heel of his hand, the same way he’d seen his mother and their staff do it a thousand times. “So all the damper you’ve made is just flour, salt, and water?”

Albie closed his mouth, his lips a tight line.

It made Percy laugh more.

He left the dough in a ball, wiped his hands, and found the cast-iron pot and lid.

“What are you doing with that?” Albie asked.

Percy floured it before dropping the ball of dough in it. “Making damper,” he replied. Wasn’t it obvious?

Then instead of placing it into the wood stove, he carried it into the living room and placed it on the edge of the wood fire.

“Uh.” Albie stood there, clearly unsure. “We have an oven.”

Percy raised his hand. “No making fun of it until you’ve tried it.” He used the fire poker to turn the heavy iron pot one-quarter turn.

Albie’s lips twitched as he fought a smile, then he sighed. “Thank you,” he said. “For before. For reading that letter. I would have muddled through it if I had time, but with everyone watching, I...”

“It’s fine. That fancy writing isn’t easy to read,” Percy allowed.

“You managed it.”

“Practice.”

“Your grandfather’s writing? Is that what you said?”

Percy shrugged one shoulder. “I used to read his books and papers.”

Albie’s eyes met his once more. They were kind and a little determined. “One day you’ll tell me about your life and what brought you here.”

Percy swallowed but conceded a nod.

“And about you teaching me to read,” Albie added quietly.

Percy grinned at him. “Starting tonight. After dinner. You can tell Des and Robert I’m cleaning up?—”

Albie raised his hand in a stop fashion, but he did manage that half smile that Percy liked so much. “When we get back from the sales. Tonight, we’ll need to get ready.”

“Do we all go? Who stays behind to watch the place?”

“Des will stay,” Albie said quietly. “His leg’s no good on long trips unless we take the wagon, but we’re droving the cattle, so... He’ll stay behind. He treats this place as if it were his own, and I trust him. But you, me, and Robert will take the cattle.”

Percy couldn’t stop his grin. It sounded like an exciting adventure to him.

Albie sent him a disapproving frown. “You’ll be on Minnie. I’ll take Ox. He’s not used to me so much but I’d rather you were with Minnie. I can’t have you getting hurt.”

Oh.

Percy wasn’t sure if that was out of kindness, concern, or because he wasn’t yet fully competent.

It’s all out of concern, he reasoned as he turned the pot in the fire another quarter turn. And it had been so long since someone had cared...

You’re his employee, his responsibility, that’s all there is to it.

“Ow, blast!” Albie cried from the kitchen.

Percy raced over, seeing him holding his wrist. “What is it?”

“Oh, nothing,” he winced. “I caught my arm on the pot. It was foolish. I wasn’t paying attention.”

It didn’t look like it was nothing. He looked to be in pain. “Let me see,” Percy said, taking Albie’s arm. He held it gently, seeing a red line burned across his wrist. “You caught it all right. Here, let’s apply some butter. It’s supposed to help.”

Percy took a spoon and shaved off a sliver of butter, then applied it gently to Albie’s arm. Still holding his wrist, now standing so close their bodies were almost touching.

“How do you know such things?” Albie asked quietly.

Percy looked up at his face and had to steady his breathing. His cheeks grew hot, his heart raced, and he had to make himself look away. “I’ve seen it done before,” he murmured. “In the kitchen back home.”

“Hm,” Albie hummed, a low rumbling sound that set fire to Percy’s loins. “Why are you blushing,” he whispered.

Percy’s eyes shot to his, fear and excitement blazing in his veins, just as Des and Robert came through the door.

Percy and Albie shot apart, Percy rushing over to the fire to turn the damper the final quarter turn.

“Dinner’s done,” Albie said.

Percy wasn’t game to turn around. “Damper is almost ready,” he mumbled.

The men sat down and Albie served up his stew, waiting for Percy. Using the kitchen rags, he carefully lifted the pot out from next to the fire and sat it atop the stove. He took out the damper, hoping all hopes it wasn’t a failure.

It certainly looked good. Smelt good too. He carried it over, steaming hot, and placed it in the middle of the table. All three sets of eyes went from the perfectly round damper to Percy.

“You made this?” Des asked.

“Oh, well, yes,” Percy replied. “Let’s see how it tastes first.” He took his seat next to Albie.

“Shall I?” Robert asked, his knife at the top of the damper.

“Please,” Percy said. “See if the knife can cut it. I apologise in advance if it’s no good.”

The knife went through the damper like butter.

Steam rose, and the first slice came out clean. It was baked, at least. Percy waited for the first taste tests, not realising how his happiness hinged on their approval... until Robert’s eyes went wide and he smiled as he chewed. Des sighed, his eyes closed as if he were tasting a long-lost memory, and Albie gave Percy a nod of approval.

Percy could have just about burst.

“You can cook this every night,” Robert said. “Breakfast too, no complaints.”

“Oh,” Percy replied, giving Albie an awkward smile. “I don’t want to take someone’s job.”

Albie smirked as he ate another bite. “Believe me, I’ll not be sad about it.”

Percy noticed the red mark on Albie’s arm then. “How’s your arm?”

“Whadja do?” Des asked, instantly concerned.

“Cooking.” Albie held his wrist up. “It’ll be fine. Just a small burn.”

Robert snorted. “Jeez, boss. You might wanna give the cooking job to Percy. Save yourself some serious injury.”

Percy kept his head down and ate his dinner. He didn’t mean for anything or anyone to belittle Albie’s hard work. When the meal was done, Percy stayed to help clean up.

“Sorry if what they said offended you,” Percy said, taking dirty plates to the kitchen.

“Offended me?” Albie’s eyes were wide. “How on earth was I offended?”

“With the cooking.” Percy took the mugs next. “I’m grateful for any food. I just want you to know, I don’t care what you cook. I’ll eat it and never say a bad word.”

Albie stopped him with that damned smirk. “The other night you said my damper was well-done.”

“Oh.” Percy’s face went red again, embarrassed this time. “That was a joke. I didn’t mean any harm. I’m sorry if I?—”

Albie patted Percy’s upper arm, warm, gentle but firm. “It’s fine. And I’m happy to hand over the cooking. I hate it. I’m not any good at it, and my time’d be better spent doing just about anything else. I’m sure Des and Robert would agree.”

“I can do a damper, but I don’t know about anything else. I mean, I could try. If you’re giving me an order, I’ll do whatever you say. If I poison everyone, I’d like it to be clear on the record that I said I wasn’t any good at it.”

Albie laughed. “You’ll be fine. How about we see about it when we get back from taking the cattle to market?”

Percy gave a nod. “Okay.” Then he remembered. “Now, about some reading lessons...”

Albie gave his shoulder a squeeze this time, the warmth of it sending a jolt through Percy’s core. “Leave it for tonight. We’ve got an early start tomorrow. It can wait until we get back.”

Percy stared up at him, lost to his brown eyes, to the smile tugging at his lips. And Albie stared straight back at him, his lips parted. They were so close...

Then Albie took a step back and cleared his throat. “You should go,” he said, his voice sounding strained. “Get some sleep before Des and Robert keep you awake all night.”

“I can help you clean up,” he said, taking a tray from the table.

“I said leave it,” Albie shot back. He took the tray from Percy. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Percy knew he’d crossed a line. He knew he shouldn’t have been caught staring at Albie that way. He shouldn’t have reacted that way.

But Hell be damned, Percy was attracted to him. A man, no less, as he’d always known he was attracted to men. But Albie, his boss. Albie who had shown him great kindness, who had given him a job and a place to live.

Albie who had warm hands and stars in his eyes, whose smile made Percy’s knees weak.

He left with barely a nod, his mouth dry and his heart heavy.

Sleep didn’t come again that night either, though this time it had nothing to do with the snoring.