"Doug was the poster child for it."
Mitch's jaw tightened, and for a moment I thought I saw guilt flash across his face.
A pang of guilt hit me, too. Doug was dead, and here I was complaining about him.
"But when it's just me on the dig site, I don't feel lonely at all. The work feels purposeful, like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, doing important work."
He nodded as if he understood that feeling better than I’d expected.
I wiped sweat from my forehead with a trembling hand, blinking against the glare reflecting off the red dirt stretching endlessly in every direction. Even my eyeballs were dried out and scratchy. The landscape around us was brutal. Sparse saltbush and spinifex clumps scattered across cracked earth, heat waves shimmered in the distance, making everything look like it was melting. Or maybe that was just me, melting from the inside out.
We fell into silence again, but it felt different now. Less oppressive. We were no longer strangers marching toward doom, but companions united in survival.
The sun beat down relentlessly on my bare head, and fresh waves of heat radiated off the ground beneath my socked feet.
"Your turn," I said, my voice hoarse. I needed a distraction from the dizziness creeping in. "Tell me about your siblings."
He didn't answer right away, and I thought maybe he'd shut down again. But he scraped his hand down his beard and said, "There are four of us. I'm the oldest."
I waited, giving him time. Concentrating on not passing out. My throat was so dry it hurt to swallow. Each breath was like inhaling fire.
"Cassidy's next. We're only eleven months apart."
"Whoa, your mom had her hands full." I winced. "Sorry, I shouldn't have?—"
"It's okay. And yeah, she did. Especially with Cass. She's a wildcat. Tough as nails, sharp tongue, doesn't take shit from anyone. She can outride most of the blokes we hire, and she's got this weird sixth sense with animals. She knows when something's wrong before anyone else does." He paused. "But she doesn't let people in easily."
"Sounds like someone I know," I said pointedly, though my voice was getting weaker.
He cocked his head, scowling. "Declan's the middle one. He's the brains in the family. He tried to run off to a circus once, but he came back. Seems we always come back." He shook his head. "Dec runs Koolaroo's books and keeps the whole operation from falling apart financially. He’s the heart of the family, too, whether he'll admit it or not."
"Every business needs someone willing to crunch the numbers." My vision swam, and I blinked hard, trying to clear it.
Mitch nodded. "Yeah, thank Christ he does. That shit isn't for me."
"Me neither. I can't even figure out my bank statement."
He laughed, as if I was exaggerating. I wasn't.
"And your youngest brother?" I prompted, forcing the words out.
"Kayden. He's the rebel. If there's chaos happening, he's either in the middle of it or he caused it." There was affection in his voice despite the words. "He manages all the equipment, though. Kayden's a mechanic, chopper pilot, and cattle wrangler. Jack of all trades and regular trouble magnet."
"Huh. Sounds like me." Did I slur my words?
Mitch looked at me, really looked at me, as if trying to solve a puzzle. Or maybe I was slurring my words. "What?"
He shook his head.
"You trying to figure me out, cowboy?" The world tilted slightly, and I shook my head, trying to clear the fog in my brain.
"Nope." The way he said it told me he absolutely was. Well, good luck to him. I'd been trying to do that for years.
Keen to keep the conversation going and stay focused, I asked, "Wait—chopper pilot? You have a helicopter?"
"Yep. Need it with over four thousand square miles of land."
Four thousand square miles. The number swooped through my brain, and my earlier question resurfaced through my fog. What exactly had Mitch been doing when he found my dig site? Because "checking fences" was bullshit.