Absolution Creek (13 page)

‘The outback always looks so much better in oil,’ Mrs Peters offered. ‘Tom Roberts really has an artist’s eye for the romantic.’

Olive squirmed in the horsehair armchair. Staying on for Christmas seemed a remarkably good idea. ‘What’s a slab hut?’

Her father folded the newspaper, resting it across his knee. ‘My dear girl, you really don’t want to know.’

Chapter 9

C
ora was on the left wing of the sheep. Horse ambled through a stand of box trees, the winter-dried canopy of leaves rustling like paper. Her breath came out in white puffs as she squeezed her chilled fingers clad in leather gloves. Meg’s response, received in the mail a fortnight ago, was totally unexpected.

Dear Aunt Cora,
the letter had begun and was followed by the usual pleasantries. Cora could still see the words
excited
and
delighted
on the lined paper, even though the letter itself was now ash in her fireplace. It was the next paragraph that almost made Cora withdraw her offer.

We would absolutely love to move to the country. I say ‘we’ because I am actually married with twin girls. My husband, Sam, is a mechanic, and I’m sure on such a large property there would be any number of vehicles that would require his attention. As for our children, they will be ready for primary school next year and would hardly be a bother in your large homestead. I know my married state is probably unexpected news, however . . .

A male in her house and two young children – hardly the arrangement she was hoping for. The dialogue went on for another paragraph before Meg’s closing statement.

You were right about Mother. She is against the idea. As a mother myself I can understand her concern at my moving so far away to start a new life . . .

The knowledge that Meg’s mother was against her daughter’s move was enough for Cora to send a positive reply. Sometimes even the best plans went slightly askew, although she had to admit she was annoyed with Meg. The girl could only be in her early twenties. What was she doing with her life? With a sigh Cora looked across to the adjoining paddock.

Through the fence the rams grazed into the easterly wind, heads down in an arrow formation. Having fulfilled their yearly duties they were pleased to be free of their demanding harem. Not one looked up from the grass as the ewes passed, except for Montgomery 201. Absolution’s prize stud ram stood apart from the rest of the mob on a slight rise, head high, his nostrils sniffing the wind. Cantering to the fence on Horse, Cora looked across at the great animal. A descendant of Waverly No. 4, he was pure perfection. Big framed with soft rolling skin – an almost perfect staple in terms of length, colour and strength – he also had a propensity towards siring twins. His genetics were already evident having improved Absolution’s flock and wool clip in the three years since his purchase.

‘How are you going, Montgomery?’ she said as Horse gave an unfriendly snort.

The ram reciprocated with a haughty stare, lifted his front hoof and gave a single strike to the ground before walking away.

‘Good to see your temperament hasn’t changed.’ Horse gave a whinny in agreement. ‘Worth the money, don’t you think?’ Cora doubted her ride would agree. Horse and Montgomery had a strained relationship that extended back to Montgomery’s first day on the property. Horse had lifted the wooden latch at the yards to sneak a mouthful of Montgomery’s lucerne hay and had quickly found himself on the end of a charging ram. By the time Cora reached the yards to investigate the ruckus, the lucerne was trampled into the dirt, Montgomery was standing sentry next to it and Horse was high-tailing it through the scrub. ‘Come on, Horse, let’s go.’

Horse managed a quick two-step over a rotting log and made a beeline for Tripod. Clearly he was in one of his moods today, more interested in irritating the dogs than keeping up his pace. When the three-legged musterer slowed, Horse nosed him in his bottom, which led to Tripod barking and snapping.

‘Horse!’ Cora reprimanded. Twice Horse’s abrupt manoeuvre jolted her forwards. Cora pushed her knees tight against his flanks and gave the reins a tug. There was already an ache in her leg, although for the moment it was more chill than pain.

‘Must be the cool morning,’ Harold commented, walking his roan mare towards her. His Kelpie, Sue, was bringing up the rear as usual with an
I may or may not work today
attitude.

Cora sniffed. She’d never been one for sundowners – dogs that only came to life at dusk.

Harold drew abreast, cleared his throat and spat over his shoulder. ‘My nephew’s coming out again in a few weeks.’

‘Didn’t take to his apprenticeship then?’ Cora asked, surprised the boy’s father had even suggested a cadetship at a newspaper. What teenager wanted to interview stallholders at a Sunday afternoon market?

Harold hesitated. ‘Hated it.’

Ahead the mob of sheep threw up a curtain of dust. ‘You’re not surprised?’ The firm set of Harold’s jaw suggested something was amiss.

‘I suppose not.’ Selecting a pre-rolled cigarette from his hat-band, Harold lit up with a silver lighter. It had been a gift from Ellen on their wedding day – a perfect present for a bush man who rolled thirty cigarettes before breakfast, slipping them through his hat-band for easy access.

Cora tapped Horse lightly on his flanks and closed the distance between the mob. Overhead, swallows were flying directly towards the wool shed, readying to clog the eaves with their nests and splatter everything with their droppings. Harold was still riding beside her, which meant the conversation had some way to go. She mumbled under her breath about not having children and
still
being subjected to everyone else’s problems with their offspring, and waited for the next instalment. Kendal White was the youngest of three children belonging to Harold’s sister and had spent half his school holidays, and a bit of time in between, at Absolution. When the teachers decided that a period of suspension would be beneficial to both parties, he was packed off to his uncle.

‘Another scrape?’ It seemed to Cora that Kendal never initiated any problems at his fancy school in Brisbane yet was always in the thick of things at the end. ‘He should be sent out to the Territory for a year or so. A bit of time jackerooing on one of those big stations wouldn’t hurt him,’ Cora suggested. It wasn’t the first time.

‘His mother won’t have it.’ Harold ruffled his horse’s hair between the ears.

‘What about a fitter or turner? Or a boilermaker?’ She pulled on Horse’s reins, steadying him so that Tripod could gain some space between them.
Candlestick maker, she mused.
Why the silly dog just didn’t move out of Horse’s way was beyond her.

‘He wants to come here,’ Harold announced as if the decision were already made.

Cora whistled at Curly. He’d bailed an old ewe up under a Wilga tree with a handful of other stragglers. One by one her companions left to rejoin the mob until she was alone, stamping her foot and bowing her head in anticipation of a charge. The tail of the mob slowed to watch the show.

‘Here?’ Cora asked Harold, whistling again. Having managed to rid themselves of Jarrod Michaels, she was still coming to terms with her decision to trial Meg’s husband as a station hand. It appeared Absolution was becoming a home for waifs and strays. ‘I don’t think so.’ Once before, Harold had approached Cora with the suggestion of taking Kendal on as a jackeroo – he’d even coerced his wife, Ellen, into putting in a good word for the boy.

‘I don’t expect you to understand, Cora, but I’d appreciate it if he could come for a bit.’

‘I don’t know, Harold.’

‘The thing is, what with Jarrod’s leaving I thought we could do with the help.’

Cora’s intuition told her that employing relatives of staff could come to no good. They invariably expected special treatment and one could be assured that their bush ability never matched their perceived levels of importance. ‘I certainly can’t afford to pay him.’

‘I told him that.’ Harold rose up in the stirrups and whistled again. The ewe turned and walked back to the mob, but not before the right flank took the opportunity to charge across the paddock in the wrong direction.

Cora spun Horse around and galloped after the bolting sheep. There was a water hole ahead and if the ewes reached it, it would take some cajoling to move the old girls from its tree-shaded banks. Horse galloped towards the lead. Tripod was quickly left behind and, although his three legs worked overtime to keep up, he was engulfed in Horse’s billowing dust.

Twenty minutes later the ewes were in the next paddock. It always amazed Cora how they knew instinctively which clump of trees to head to on arrival. They could remember where the tastiest grass was and the location of each specific watering point with a brief sniff of the air. Harold closed the gate behind them and lifted an exhausted Tripod up to her. Cora patted him as the dog settled on her lap.

‘About Kendal, I just don’t think I should be saying no to him. This is the only place he ever comes back to,’ Harold stated.

‘Out of necessity,’ Cora replied.

Harold’s voice was hopeful. ‘And I’ll watch over him.’

‘While you’re working?’ Cora placed a steadying hand on Tripod’s back. Give it a couple of days and the kid would be out helping to muster and then what? Then everyone would be expecting him to be paid, including the lad himself. ‘I already have Meg’s husband coming. I expect I’ll have to pay him something if he proves to be handy.’

Harold gave a disapproving snort.

The trouble with having a manager who had been with you for more than ten years was that they felt they had a claim to any decision made. ‘If Kendal comes he’s your responsibility and he won’t be paid. Secondly, if he comes this close –’ she held her thumb and finger together ‘– to causing a ruckus, he’s gone. No excuses.’

‘Thanks, Cora.’ Harold’s tone was flat. ‘He’ll understand. We’ve decided he doesn’t need any more schooling.’

As they neared the house paddock Sue detoured towards Harold’s house, while Tripod jumped to the ground and headed straight for the chook yard. Curly, who had followed the returning riders at a distance, stopped a few yards short of the yard. The rooster was already on guard, his chest puffed out in pride. The chooks fluffed their wings and a babble of noise filled the air.

At the stables Cora and Harold unsaddled the horses.

‘Do you think this arrangement will work then with this city lot?’ Harold asked.

‘We’ll see.’ Cora brushed Horse down, amused at the way the animal closed his brown eyes and hung his head, his breath softening into a sound like a cat’s purr.

‘Always hard bringing city folk in.’

The noise from the chook yard was becoming cacophonous. Cora yelled at Tripod and Curly to quieten down. Horse twitched his ears in irritation and walked away.

‘Might have a bit of smoko and then see about repairing the mincer. Thought I’d kill that wether for a bit of mutton later.’

‘Sounds good, Harold.’ Overnight the station’s fortnightly kill ration had gone from feeding three to eight. ‘By the way I’ve decided to get that old dam delved in the 1500-acre paddock.’

‘It hasn’t been used for years. It’ll cost.’

‘I figure once it’s cleaned out and enlarged I’ll run a channel across to the bore drain. That way we can fill the dam from the bore when it’s dry. You can never have too much water.’

Harold pushed his brimmed hat back on his forehead revealing deep sun-etched lines. ‘Well, it’s not a priority. I’d like to be clearing the lignum, doing some work on the woolshed, tacking a wall on the end of the hayshed.’

Cora ignored him. ‘We’ll be needing to take down the old fence from around the dam. That’ll be a good job for Meg’s husband to start on.’ She brushed her hands together. ‘And Kendal. When is he due?’

‘I’ll give him a bell tonight,’ Harold replied, his mouth fixed.

Cora figured the boy would be sitting by the phone. They both knew she’d been stitched up good and tight.

Chapter 10