Read Online The Bark Cutters by Nicole Alexander - Free Book Online Page A

was very important to him. ‘Better let you get home. We start shearing in a couple of days, so I probably won’t see much of you once it starts.’
    â€˜Probably not.’ Something made her turn to face him. His hair ruffled by the wind, the nonchalant lean of his body, the pull of his jumper across his shoulders, a queer sensation filled her.
    â€˜No, probably not,’ Anthony repeated, taking a step towards her. His heart pounding, he lifted his hand and let his fingers gently run down her face, following the curve of her cheekbone to the soft hollow at the base of her throat. Reluctantly, he stepped back. He needed time to consolidate his position on the property, time to see if their feelings were mutual, to discover if Sarah wanted him as much as he yearned for her.
    Her body mechanically turned towards the lights of her home, while her mind focused on the nearness of him, on the look in his eyes, on the thought of him kissing her. Her feet led her away. However, at the line of trees bordering the rear of the homestead, Sarah dawdled beneath the softly rustling foliage. Darkness had descended and with it would come her mother’s taunts of lateness. She briefly rested her palm against the rough bark of an athel tree, the knobbly surface calming the emotions inside her as Anthony’s utility roared to life. She recalled Cameron’s light-hearted teasing about whether she had given Anthony a Christmas present and his remark about Anthony becoming a permanent addition at Wangallon.
    At the timber gate to her home she lifted the latch, remembering the brief lecture on risk she and her brother had been subjected to only yesterday by their grandfather.
    â€˜Yer not going anywhere, lass, if you don’t have a debt on the place. No point living comfortable and paying cash, for that means yer not a risk taker. The bush isn’t the place for people who don’t like risk.’
    â€˜Risk,’ Sarah repeated softly, walking the few steps up the cracked cement path. There were different types of risk. One of which was being keen on the jackaroo. At the back door, she scraped the heel of her work boots against the step.
    â€˜Would you mind hurrying it up a little, Sarah? Your father and brother would like to eat before midnight.’
    Taking a deep breath, Sarah walked into the kitchen.

    Birds and lizards scattered as the chainsaw ripped noisily through the box tree. Anthony pushed the chainsaw harder against the trunk, the blade finally meeting with the cut Cameron had made on the opposite side. A loud crackle sounded as the tree swayed, the rustle of leaves and the accompanying whoosh of wind ending with a resounding crash as twenty feet of timber fell heavily into dense scrub.
    Deftly, Cameron cut the top of the tree free of all branches, leaving a good twelve feet of perfectly straight trunk. Wiping the sweat from his brow, his hat tipping back off his forehead with the movement, he caught the water bottle Anthony threw and took a long swig. He remained sitting on the decapitated crown of the tree as Anthony, with chainsaw in hand, straddled the trunk and began to cut a straight line through the bark lengthwise. Eyes focused, woodchips flying, Anthony’s hands were steady as the saw ran precisely down the length of the trunk. With the first cut completed, he rolled the trunk over with Cameron’s help and proceeded to cut the other side. Later, when they were back at the yards, they would remove the bark. Leaving it on made the tree easier to carry and transport without the slippery under-skin of the woody plant impeding their progress.
    â€˜That’s six. Should do it, don’t you think?’ Anthony askedCameron as they heaved under the strain of the tree, pushing it onto the back of the Land Cruiser.
    â€˜Yep.’
    Anthony drove carefully through the scrub, avoiding the fallen timber that could stake an unsuspecting tyre, the vehicle bumping roughly over