snowy_river_man | (no subject)

It's hard, really, to go about your business when there's a door to the end of the universe just around the corner and no one else seems to notice. Hard, but not impossible.

That doesn't mean Jim doesn't think an awful lot about it while chopping logs and mucking out the stable. He's half convinced the other stablehands are enjoying a joke at his expense, but as far as he can tell, no one seems to pay the door any attention, or even use it for whatever it's true purpose is meant to be.

It's a mystery, but not the only mystery on Harrison's cattle station.

Take Curly, for example. Jim can't fathom why Harrison hired on a duffer like that. Earlier, Jim had been working hard in a stall, ignoring the sweat dripping down his forehead, when Curly and another man had decided to make their presence known.

Jim hadn't particularly cared for them on sight – there’s something about the way Curly insists on wearing a waistcoat and long pocket watch chain, as if he feels himself above everyone, that irritates Jim -- but he stopped shoveling, wiped his hand on his pants and offered it anyway. “Oh, g’day. I'm Jim Craig.”

"Pretty good at shoveling that, aren't ya?" Curly hooked his thumbs in his lapels. Neither man shook Jim's hand. "Pretty smart for a mountain fella. Usin’ the front-end and everythin'."

"Yeah," the second man laughed.

Curly reached behind his ear for a cigarette and gestured for a light. "Like bandicoots in the mountains. You diggin’ for grubs, bandicoot?"

Hands clenched tightly around the shovel handle, Jim walked past and fixed them with a cold look. "Have they given you the day off, then?"

Curly dropped the lit match to the stable floor, flashing Jim an antagonizing smile. White smoke puffed from his mouth. "I'm studyin’ to be supervisor." The match landed in hay, damp but still flammable.

Jim gave him a disgusted look, scooped up a pile of dung and dumped it on both the match and Curly's foot. "Studying to be stupid."

As first meetings go, it wasn't terribly pleasant. Curly shook his foot and looked ready to carry it further, but they soon found themselves interrupted by Jessica Harrison, walking directly for Kip's stall.

"I'll be back later to check on your work," said Curly, leaving him to it. Jim noticed he doesn't walk like he owns the place when anyone of authority is around.

Keeping his eyes on Jessica, Jim went back to his work. He watches her now, wondering if she remembers him from the train station. Part of him hopes she doesn't. It's only a very small part.

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Jessica shoots him a flat, unimpressed glare at first. She's not sure whether he deliberately misled her, but she's itching to thump him anyway.

Though only playfully perhaps...

His charming smile and chipper tone are all too infectious, making it impossible to be angry at him, even in pretense. She can't help but drop her head and break down into slightly embarrassed laughter.

"I don't know," she giggles.

He made her laugh! Honest laughter, the sort you can't contain.

That warm feeling is back, and Jim thinks his grin might very well split his face as Jessica starts to undo the knot and try again.

Loud hoof beats approach the stable, and quick to realize who it is, Jim feels his grin fading. Harrison rides his big grey into the center aisle. Jim feels momentarily confused, like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't, and he gives Harrison a quick glance while slipping the makeshift halter off Kip's nose.

He dare not look at Jessica.

Jessica's mirth fades rapidly as well. She feels the same sense of guilt for some inexplicable reason—not guilt at missing classes; but guilt for sharing a fun moment with this boy.

Her face becomes sober once more and she turns away from Jim as her father dismounts and barks an order for the stablehand to cool off his horse. She lifts up the rope over which they had bonded, and starts to coil it around her left elbow and shoulder. She says nothing else, and she doesn't chance a look back either.

'Craig,' Harrison calls him. Jim has the absurd notion that he should turn and tell Jessica that his name is Jim, but it's far too late and far too inappropriate. He takes the reins and nods his head respectfully, turning into the sunlight. It's too bright to look up, and that's why he kicks a stone out of his way, frowning.

His mood quickly takes a turn for the better, however, as he rounds the building and spies Curly trying his best to replicate Jim's knot. His best isn't good enough, a fact that likely stretches to all manner of things, Jim thinks.

"It's called a Tom fool's knot," Jim informs him, smugly, as he walks past. "You're getting the hang of it! I'll be back later to check on your work."

He can feel the glare eating into the back of his head as he begins to cool down the grey, but Jim is entirely too preoccupied with the memory of Jessica's laugh to care one way or the other.