Grand Parade (Show Time Fever Book 1) Page 6

  Yes.

  He just had to work out a way how that could happen. Tomorrow was the final judging, and he had to be here early to get the two young cows ready for the championship judging, as well as feeding and topping up the water for their cattle. When can I see her? How?

  His mind worked as he went through the routine of going back to fill up with bucket, then returning to tip it out into the troughs until they were all full and he’d formulated a risky plan of making sure that he would see Megan again. Just to make sure she’s all right.

  The night in the hospital had been long and painful from all the little noises that filtered around the rooms. Someone snored loudly a few rooms down, and her roommate was restless getting up to use the bathroom just about every hour. Finally, she turned on the TV and didn’t use the headphones.

  The nurses kept coming in, waking up Megan if she managed to fall asleep, to take her vitals and make sure she wasn’t concussed. Plus, there were the dreams of the times she spent in the hospital with her mum, waiting. She couldn’t help thinking that it was the worst night sleep she’d had for a long time, and she’d told the nurse that five minutes ago.

  The woman had patted her on the arm after taking her blood pressure saying that it was best that these precautions were taken. Precautions, my arse. But, Megan bit her tongue. She didn’t need to take out her frustrations on the nurse. Besides it was about 6 a.m. now and she was wide-awake despite a lack of sleep. Her head still hurt.

  Plus, she was scheduled to be at the show at 9 a.m. The nurse told her that she couldn’t go until the doctor had seen her late this morning. Megan huffed, and decided for a shower. The water was lukewarm, and she cranked it warmer, in an attempt to wash away her frustration. I’m fine.

  She stumbled in the shower, grabbing hold of the granny rail on the wall to stop herself from falling on the hard tiles. She gasped, fear rattling through her. She suddenly had an insight of how older people felt after they had a fall, and the idea of having another. Her head throbbed.

  “Are you all right in there?” called the nurse from outside.

  “Yes.” Megan’s knuckles turned white from holding so tight to the rail. Please don’t come in. Slowly the waves of nausea receded, and she let go. Standing without swaying, she took her time finishing the shower. She dried herself, then changed into the fresh clothes, jeans and a t-shirt, her dad had bought in late last night when he decided he needed to return and check on her.

  She had a vague recollection of his concern. He’d intended to stay all night, but she made him go home. He had to work today. And so do I. There was no denying part of the reason she was eager to get back to the show. She wanted to see Jackson again. Thank him for keeping an eye on her.

  Megan peeked out from the bathroom door, making sure the nurse had gone, then shuffled to her bed, lying down with a sigh. Her head let her know that the basic activity of showering was too much. I’ll be fine. She looked around for a distraction. The thought of watching morning TV breakfast shows caused her headache to increase. She picked up a copy of the Advertiser that someone had left on the side table of her bed. Her jaw dropped.

  The front page had the picture with the little girl sleeping with the cow. It was a great picture. One that I took. Her grin widened when she saw her name. Picture taken by Megan Lyall.

  She smiled. It was worth going in the barn after all. If her phone wasn’t so low on battery life she would’ve checked out the social media sites to see if any of the other photos were used. She needed to ring her dad and let him know when to come and pick her up.

  A knock on the door startled her. She hoped it wasn’t the nurse come to take her temperature and blood pressure, or to ask her what bloody day of the week it was. The incident in the shower aside, she was feeling better. Still a little tired, but she planned to be back on board and at the show later, taking more photos. She looked at the image. The motivation grew inside of her. She sat back down on the bed, glancing through the article associated with her photo.

  The knock repeated, this time a little louder.

  “Yes?”

  The door opened and Jackson looked tentatively around the edge of the door. He wasn’t wearing his broad-rimmed hat. His straight hair was a little longer on the top, styled upwards with a little gel. He wore a fresh shirt, sleeves rolled up high giving her a glimpse of his bicep muscles, jeans and work boots that had been recently polished.

  Megan pursed her lips. She didn’t want to sound ungrateful for his visit. It was rather nice of him, unnecessary, but after spending hours together yesterday, she realised how calm she suddenly felt after seeing him. “Shouldn’t you be at the show or something?”

  “Few hours free, besides it’s early.” He walked into the shared room, one hand behind his back, an expression on his face as if he too wasn’t sure if he should be here or not. She was glad that she’d made her dad go home last night and bring her back some clothes. The t-shirt was an old one, and not what she would’ve chosen, but it was clean and so were her jeans. She shimmied back on the bed. Time seemed to be out of sync for Megan and she couldn’t help but blame the egg on her head from Bruce’s hoof.

  She knew she was asking questions to keep him here, and it was hard, because the fog kept coming back, making it more difficult to think. “What about visiting hours?”

  “I sweet-talked the nurses.” He said it with a grin. “Just to see you and give you this.” He handed her a single rose, soft pink.

  She couldn’t help thinking he’d nicked it from someone’s garden, but it made the gift even more special to her. He’d come out of his way, and it was too early for the shops.

  “You’re resourceful.” She smelled the rose. Tiredness swept over her and she sighed, her hand dropping down to her side. Rounds were later and she was certain that she was going to get out of here, even though she was still tired and the headache was intense enough to be considered a migraine. Nothing that painkillers won’t help. “I want to see you again.”

  “Hey, I’m here to the end of the week, all because the Murray Grey’s are the feature breed this year,” said Jackson with a wink. “Plenty of time for me to see you again.”

  “Good.” Without wanting to, she closed her eyes. The last thing she saw was Jackson standing by her bed, smiling.

  Jackson tugged on the rope, pulling Bruce down the aisle towards the small arena where the grand champion judging was about to start for the Murray Grey’s.

  “Good luck.” His mum smiled as she slipped ahead to go sit in the stand to watch. Dad was helping out with the Angus because the steward had come down sick, upset stomach from eating the wrong sort of show food, which left Jackson to take Bruce out for the final judging.

  Bruce lumbered easily alongside on Jackson’s left, not pulling on the lead that was attached to a ring that hung from a halter around his head, seemingly content to be led. Jackson inhaled and a flutter rippled in his stomach. He’d rushed back from the hospital, washed down Bruce, dried him, groomed his short hair, clipping around the longer hair on his tail. It was important the bull looked his best.

  Winning Grand Champion would be a good marketing tool for their stud over the next year, and hopefully would lead to more interest in other breeders wanting to buy bulls from them. Not only did Bruce have to look good, but Jackson did too. He’d quickly changed into clean moleskins, freshly ironed shirt thanks to his mum, and polished work boots. He looked the part. 100% country.

  So did the other five contestants who lined up with him on the fake grass under the marquee that had been set up outside the shed. He nodded his head to Julie, leading a young bull out in front of him. She smiled, keeping both hands on the young bull, who pulled on the lead and was about to test her. She drew him back in line with a little tug and a soft word.

  Bruce fidgeted next to him. “Easy, boy.” Jackson spoke calmly and stood straight, looking around the judges. He liked to keep an eye on them, make sure he was noticed, and also watched to try and
gauge how well they thought of Bruce.

  He spied his mum in the stand sitting next to some of the other wives who were also down at the show with their studs and Murray Grey’s. The women were all dressed smartly in their country style clothes, make-up done, hair styled, ready to be asked to present a ribbon or a trophy. It was about the only time he saw his mum wearing cosmetics. He smiled at her, but kept his attention on Bruce, just in case the bull decided that this would be a good time to act out, especially since there was an audience.

  Bruce was one of the older bulls in the line, not the largest, but close, and he was the heaviest with muscle. That was what Jackson reckoned anyway, as he glanced quickly at the competition. He’d had a good look at the rest of the stock over the last few days. It was going to be close.

  The young lads and one woman stood in a rough line waiting to be told to lead their animals around in a circle. This was the boring part. He’d done all he could to prepare Bruce. All he could do now was to make sure that the bull behaved well when he walked around the arena, ready when the judges checked the animals’ constitutions and how well they stood on their legs, and hooves. This was an important feature, not overlooked since the bulls needed to service the cows and required strong back legs for that. They also had to survive out in the various paddocks and fields, not have the luxury of being handfed each day, morning and night.

  Jackson couldn’t help, but let his mind wander a little. To her. Megan. She looked surprised to have seen him this morning, even more surprised with the flower, which he’d asked a random older lady for from her garden. He’d even offered to pay for it but the lady just winked and clipped it off her rose bush and gave it to him, saying his girl would love it.

  Megan had flushed a gorgeous red when he’d given her the flower, so much so, he wasn’t sure that he was going to be able to walk away without kissing her. But, he’d seen how tired she still was. I hope I’ll have time tonight to go back and see her again.

  The show made it a busy week. He not only cared for the cattle, but also competed. He had to catch up with other breeders who he only saw once a year, and attend meetings for the beef industry. His dad was getting on, and encouraged him to step up more. This year Jackson was going on the Murray Grey Breeders Association as a committee member.

  The image of Megan, burst through the list of commitments stretching out in front of him. Her brown hair, which was sexily messy this morning after being washed, her light skin, deep emotional dark brown eyes and there were her curves that he wanted to get familiar with. He couldn’t help thinking about how soft and silky her skin would feel under his hands. There was more. It wasn’t just a physical attraction that he was feeling towards her. Something deeper was pulling him to her, something more than a fling or a one-night stand.

  “Walk around.”

  Jackson took an extra minute to process the words. Was he talking to me?

  “Walk.” The judge looked a little grumpy at having to repeat himself.

  Jackson’s mind caught up, and he flushed slightly with heat as he realised that the judge had asked him to lead Bruce around, and from the man’s expression, it was likely more than once. Jackson nodded his head, and pulled gently on the lead. Judges enjoyed their power trips, and he didn’t want to upset them, when he’d just rocked the boat a little by not paying attention. He focused on the task at hand.

  “Come on, boy,” he whispered.

  Bruce complied, lumbering along as if on a Sunday stroll. Jackson kept his hand tight on the rope, at just the right height to make the bull lift his head a little more, so he looked confident. It was about this time Bruce decided he was getting hungry. Jackson had to work hard to stop the bull from lowering his head to try and eat the fake grass. Bruce was getting toey and had enough of being out here in the small arena. “Just a little longer, boy.”

  The judges always took their time. Because it was a Grand Champion ribbon up for grabs, there were three of them, and they had to all agree. Sometimes this meant a longer time out in the arena, standing around, waiting, and trying to keep the bull or cow calm. Jackson walked around once more before being directed back to the line.

  Then he watched the other bulls take turns circling the ring, picking out their strengths and weaknesses. This had been part of his education growing up, and now he helped his dad pick out the breeding bulls, as well as the cows, dividing them up into herds that would be best suited for a particular bull. Jackson loved it. It was in his blood. It was the only job he knew, and he didn’t want to know any other job, or live anywhere else.

  He noticed the judges were standing together, again, talking softly, mouths barely moving so he couldn’t even lip-read and guess what they were saying. He shifted uneasily on his feet. Judging had gone for nearly an hour, and what he could glean from their body language was that they weren’t in agreement. They suddenly moved away from each other and went back to looking at the bulls lined up.

  Bruce wasn’t the only one tired of being out here in the arena. The stands were full of other breeders, who talked softly while they waited for their classes. Show-goers walked past, some stopped, taking time to look at what was going on in the ring. Jackson hated to think what it would look like if you had no idea. It irked him a little.

  Megan was one of those people who knew nothing of farm life, and it hadn’t annoyed him. She had been genuinely curious, and she was endearing when she asked questions. I wonder how she’s doing? His thoughts naturally wandered back to her. She’d been tough going on the way that she had yesterday. She’d been lucky since it could’ve ended much worse. Like it had with his sister. His thoughts tangled together.

  Bruce pulled on the rope, bringing Jackson back to his surroundings. “Easy, old boy.”

  One of the judges paused in front of Bruce. Jackson focused, glancing back quickly to make sure that Bruce was standing square on all four of his legs, and pushed his head up a little. The judges’ expression gave nothing away as he looked Bruce over, again, before moving on, checking out the other five bulls and cows, of different ages, but all Murray Greys.

  Hurry up. Jackson only wanted it to be over so he knew who had won, and then he could think more clearly about what to do about seeing Megan. Once the judging finished, he could go to the hospital again. Should I really do that? It’s a bit too forward. Even though he’d visited this morning, that was more to stop himself from worrying about her, and now, his motivation was different.

  The judges were huddled together once more. Jackson looked down the line up of cattle. It was too hard to tell who the judges would go for. Often they went with the older bull for the Grand Champion, because they were fully developed, you could see how much bulk they had on their body. Bruce wasn’t the oldest.

  Jackson nodded to Heath, the owner of the bull next to him. He mouthed back ‘Taking their time.’

  Jackson nodded again and rolled his eyes, then looked over to the judges, who were still talking to each other. Jackson suppressed a yawn. One of the judges was from New South Wales, one a local from up in the mid-North here in South Australia, and the third was from Queensland. It was deliberate to try and stop any nepotism. What it also caused was the judging to take longer because each of them had their own strong views and Jackson wondered where on the ranking they’d placed Bruce.

  He didn’t think they’d win the first place ribbon. Despite his daydreaming, he’d kept enough of a track on what was happening, and the judges hadn’t come back to spend too much time looking at Bruce. They must be considering the younger bull. The one who was being held by Julie, from Mungee Stud in the southeast. She was a year or two younger than him. He caught her smiling at him. He grinned back, then looked away quickly.

  Seeing her once a year, he’d grown to know her slowly, and watched her grow up from a distance, a bit like she had him. A few years ago, he’d thought maybe something would happen between them, but then it didn’t, mainly because he hadn’t encouraged any advances. He flushed. Was
that what they’d been?

  It was around the time his sister died, and starting something with a girl wasn’t on his mind. Jackson didn’t want to disrespect Julie or any other girl. He had enough chasing him back home. They didn’t make him excited and nervous all at the same time. Not the way Megan did.

  His dad was waiting patiently leaning on the gate, clipboard in hand, waiting for the judging of the Angus to finish. He nodded his head encouragingly. Jackson took a deep breath. If he was too unsettled, then Bruce would feel it and start acting up. Jackson repositioned himself and relaxed.

  Finally, the judge from New South Wales motioned for the steward to come over. They whispered to each other. Jackson strained to hear. Years of working on the farm, talking without opening your mouth much so the flies didn’t get in, meant that he couldn’t work out anything what they were saying.

  “Good luck,” he said quietly to Heath, who nodded politely back. Jackson reckoned the ribbon would have to go to Heath. His bull was a bit bigger, and would appeal to at least two of the three judges based on what he knew about them. Might get Reserve Grand Champion. That would still be something to make the trip to Adelaide worthwhile, especially since they were staying the entire week.

  Mrs. Colin stepped down from the stand and the steward handed her the ribbon and pointed towards Heath and Jackson. Someone tapped on the microphone and there was an awkward moment of feedback, then someone clearing their throat.

  “It was a pleasure to have come from Queensland to judge for my first time at the Royal Adelaide Show.” The judge paused while a few people politely clapped.

  Jackson kept an eye on Mrs. Colin, a more mature woman, and mother of Julie, walking towards his end of the line of bulls.

  “It was a stellar line up of breeding bulls… ”

  Jackson faded in and out to what the judge was saying. His pulse increased. He ran a sweaty palm down his clean moleskins. Even though he didn’t think they had won with Bruce, his nerves were getting the better of him. Bruce had got Champion in his section, but now to get another board ribbon would really seal the success for their stud at this year’s show.