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.

Threaded | Flat

Dressed casually in shirt, vest, calf-length skirt and black riding boots, and carrying a saddle over one arm, Jessica dismisses Curly after a few formal pleasantries.

The pretty green-eyed brunette certainly does remember the boy from the railway station who had left the crowd of onlookers and easily calmed the spooked colt. He had called her mate! The cheek of it. And he had made her look inept and feeble by stepping in and taking control of the situation.

Jessica Harrison has a way with horses too. She can handle them very competently, thank you very much, and she did not need the lad's unbidden help. She doesn't quite see why her father needs his help around here either. Hence why there is only a cursory glance of acknowledgement for the new stablehand as she passes him and enters the stall of her grey gelding.