The McCalister Legacy

by Nicole Hurley-Moore

  ‘Oh, come on, Dad. Mr Turner couldn’t give a damn if I was there or not—this is all about Penny,’ Nate said with an air of exasperation. ‘She’s a spoiled brat who has a thing for me. I’ve never encouraged her.’

  ‘You could do worse,’ his father replied. ‘The Turners aren’t short of a penny and they seem to like you.’

  ‘So, am I meant to marry them or Penny? Seriously, Dad, you sound like someone out of the Dark Ages.’

  ‘Look, all I’m saying—’ Sam began but Jackie broke in.

  ‘Sam, Nate’s not interested. Penny is a nice girl but she can be difficult at times—you know that,’ she said.

  ‘That’s an understatement,’ Lia mumbled beneath her breath, but it was loud enough for her father to give her a look. ‘She’s totally up herself and a pain in the arse. Look how she carries on at every horse show—like she’s the only one who can ride a horse.’

  ‘Lia!’ her mother admonished. ‘Is that how we speak about people?’

  Lia wrinkled her nose and pursed her lips. ‘I’m just being honest, Mum. You might think she’s nice but she isn’t. Em and I are friends with her little sister, Bethany, and she’s just awful to her.’

  ‘It’s true, Mum. She is pretty terrible,’ Em added. ‘And according to Bethany, Penny has wanted Nate for years. She’s always talking about him and Bethany reckons she’ll do anything to get him.’

  ‘Aw, cut it out, Em—you’re making me feel like some sort of hunted animal,’ Nate said with a laugh. ‘I think I can take care of myself.’

  ‘Yeah, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

  Sam set aside his newspaper. ‘You still haven’t said where you were?’

  Nate took a deep breath. ‘I was helping Berry paint.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ his father said. ‘Because spending time with her is more important than being present in the family business.’

  Nate bristled at his father’s tone and implication, but before he could respond, his mum chirped in.

  ‘I’m so glad they’re going to keep the farm.’

  Sam stared at his wife. ‘What?’

  ‘They’re going to keep Stone Gully Farm. I stopped at the servo on the way to pick up the girls from netball—Ken told me,’ she explained.

  Sam frowned. ‘How the hell would Ken know?’

  Jackie shrugged. ‘I don’t know—I guess he heard it from someone.’

  ‘Probably just a baseless rumour,’ her husband said as he picked up his coffee cup.

  ‘It’s not,’ Nate said. ‘Berry and her family are keeping the place. They decided the other day.’

  ‘And you’re only telling us now?’ Sam said.

  ‘She only told me yesterday. I didn’t think it was a big deal. I’m happy with the decision—it means that Berry has a reason to keep coming back to Harlington.’

  His father studied him for a moment and then slowly nodded. ‘Ah, I see. You like this girl, don’t you?’

  All of a sudden Nate felt the need to inspect his glass of juice more intently and the sound of both his sisters sniggering didn’t help.

  ‘I get it now—that’s why you’re not interested in the Turner girl,’ Sam replied as if he’d just uncovered a great mystery. ‘Well, you might have said something earlier.’

  Nate glanced at his sisters and saw that he’d get no help from them at all. He sighed and put his glass down. He might as well own it.

  ‘Yeah, I do like Berry. Is that a problem?’

  ‘No, it’s your life—it’s got nothing to do with me,’ his father answered.

  Nate heard the words but doubted their sincerity. If there was one thing he knew about his father, it was that he needed to control Tarantale Downs and everyone in it. For a second he held his breath and waited for him to say something else; probably about how rich Penny Turner’s family was. Or that there wasn’t any scandal attached to them, unlike the McCalisters. He waited but the words didn’t come, which was even more perplexing.

  ‘So, are you seeing her today?’ his mum asked as she handed him a plate full of food.

  ‘Yeah, I’ll head over there later,’ he said. ‘Thanks, Mum.’ She placed her hand on his shoulder. ‘I know it sounds like we’re prying—we don’t mean to, sweetheart. I just want you to be happy,’ she said before walking back towards the stove.

  He glanced back to his father only to see that he’d picked up the paper again and was immersed in it. With another barely audible sigh, Nate started eating.

  Berry yawned as she looked over the paddocks. She’d stayed up too late going through her father’s paperwork, but as drained as she was she could sense spring in the air.

  As she stared across the rolling hills, she could almost see a little boy running through the paddock towards the bush. She smiled—she was being fanciful, but the story she’d read last night kept playing on her mind. It was silly, really, she knew that the little boy had lived through his ordeal and gone on to have a long life—Young Ned was testament to that. But the thought of the little kid being out there in the bush all alone pulled at her heartstrings.

  However, the one question she wasn’t any closer to answering was why her father was so interested in this story.

  The contractors had already been hard at work by the time she arrived. She was off to a late start and there was an entire house to paint, but Berry was finding it difficult to work up the energy just to walk into the house. She looked down at her watch and saw that it was already ten-thirty. Her grandma would say the morning was nearly over, and that’s kind of how Berry felt.

  She yawned again as she stretched her arms over her head. Staring off across the paddocks or mentally painting the walls wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Using up a considerable amount of willpower, Berry headed towards the house and hoped that Nate would turn up and save her.

  She wasn’t disappointed, because not long after lunch Nate arrived with coffee. For a second Berry wasn’t sure if she was more excited to see him or the steaming cup of coffee—nah, it was him.

  ‘Hey, I thought you might need this,’ he said as he strolled into the newly painted room.

  Berry grinned as she reached out and took the coffee. ‘You have no idea.’

  ‘So, it looks as if it’s coming together,’ Nate said as he surveyed the paint job.

  ‘Yeah, I’m really happy with it, and thanks for helping out yesterday. One room down and only … well, the rest of the house to go.’

  ‘Well, I guess I’d better get on with it, then,’ Nate said as he walked over and snatched up a brush. ‘Where do you want me?’

  It was an innocent enough question, but all of a sudden Berry found the room a little warm. ‘Um, well, I guess we just have to finish around the door and then move on to the next room.’

  ‘Right, I’m on it,’ Nate said.

  ‘Nate, do you know much about that story Young Ned was telling us in the pub? You know, the one about his grandfather?’ Berry asked.

  Nate laughed. ‘That’s the only story he tells once he’s got a couple of pints in him.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yep, the old guy is fixated on what happened. I get it, but sometimes I think that he tends to live in the past rather than the here and now. Look, I could be wrong but Ned is desperate to convince everyone that the story about the gold is true.’

  ‘And it isn’t?’

  ‘I can’t say either way. I guess there’s a grain of truth in it. I mean, the little kid did go missing, but as to finding Harlington gold, I not so sure about that,’ Nate said with a shrug.

  ‘What makes you think he didn’t find it?’ Berry asked.

  ‘I guess if it were true, someone would have found it by now. Have you read any of the reports about what happened?’

  ‘I have. From what I can gather, the kid wandered off from home and there was a big search party formed to find him—and it took two days before they actually did.’

  ‘Hmm, not quite. According to the accounts I’ve heard, most
of the people in the party were really worried that they hadn’t found him by dark. He was only six or something. I guess they were lucky it was summer and the nights were warm, but still you could only imagine all the terrible things that could have happened. You’re right about the search party but they never found him,’ Nate replied.

  ‘What? I mean, what happened to him?’

  ‘Apparently, Little Neddy managed to get almost home on his own. He ran into the search party not far from his own gate. And that’s where the story about the gold first appears and is a bit sketchy.’

  Berry put down her paintbrush. ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Because the kid told everyone about the gold he’d seen, but couldn’t tell anyone where it was. My favourite bit about the whole story is when they asked him how he found the gold, he said that the rabbit showed him,’ Nate said with a grin. ‘I mean, surely that’s enough for most adults to realise that the kid made the story up.’

  Berry paused for a moment in thought. For reasons she couldn’t explain she felt compelled to defend the boy. ‘That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? I mean, the poor little thing was lost for two days. I’d find it hard to believe he’d make up a story just to trick people.’

  ‘Okay, you’re right,’ Nate conceded. ‘I don’t think he did anything malicious. Maybe he saw something and took it the wrong way, or hell, maybe he dreamed it. Anyway, after the story came out there was a rush to go and find the gold. According to legend—or, more importantly, editorials in the local paper—half the town went gold mad. They scourged the area from the hills behind Sunlight Flat to Patterson’s Gorge and everything in between.’

  ‘And no one found anything, right?’ Berry asked.

  ‘That’s right—not a seam or a nugget or even a damn speck. This entire area was meant to be goldmining country; back in the 1850s, there was a gold rush and towns were founded and then prospered because of it. Castlemaine was one of the epicentres and that’s not too far away from us, but Harlington hasn’t been blessed with even a pinch of gold dust,’ Nate said.

  ‘So, if there was gold out there, you’d think someone would have found it by now,’ Berry said as she settled down next to the paint tin and reached for her coffee.

  ‘Exactly. People didn’t stop looking once the story died down. We’ve had prospectors here, both local and blow-ins, all searching for Harlington’s gold on and off for years. Every now and again if the story is mentioned or gets a bit of exposure, there’ll be another wave of gold hunters turn up with their metal detectors.’

  ‘Annoying?’ Berry said.

  Nate gave a shrug. ‘Oh, I don’t know. It usually doesn’t last long, and they bring business to the town. The Cumquat fills up, so do the couple of spare rooms at the pub, and the servo and shop get an increase in trade—so it’s not all bad.’

  Berry took another sip of her coffee. ‘I suppose we’d better get on with the next room,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Personally, I’d rather sit here, drink coffee and listen to Harlington gossip, but I suppose that won’t get the house painted.’

  Nate flashed her a smile. ‘You might be right about that.’

  Berry stood up and stretched her arms before glancing back at Nate. ‘So, I have another question for you,’ she said.

  ‘Oh?’ His eyes lit up with expectation as he turned his head and focused his gaze on her.

  Berry paused and teasingly let the moment linger for a second and then another. ‘Do you want to paint the window frame or roll the wall?’ she asked with a grin.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Stone Gully Farm, 2007

  Jordy McCalister had spent the past two weeks scaling every inch of Stone Gully Farm. He left the house every morning just as the sun was coming up and didn’t return until it was dark. Cath had noticed, but up until now hadn’t said anything.

  A smile played across his mouth as he replayed the scene he’d been concocting in his head. How he’d tell her that finally after all these sad years he’d actually come off on top and all their worries would soon be a thing of the past.

  Jordy had already planned where he’d take her to tell her the news—the setting was important and he wanted everything to be perfect. Like always, he had a tendency to get a little carried away and this time he was going to try to keep things in check—at least that’s what he told himself. The problem was, it was so damn easy to paint a rosy picture, a snapshot of how things should be, of how he wished they were.

  But this time it was different. This time he had something concrete to base his hopes on.

  For the sixth time Jordy opened up the old map he’d liberated from the local historical society. He continued waging the argument in his mind as he ran his finger over the map and tried to get his bearings. It wasn’t as if he’d actually stolen the map, he told himself again, it was more like he had just borrowed it—maybe indefinitely but he had every intention of returning it one day. Albeit anonymously, because the Society President, Mrs Strickland, was utterly terrifying. He wasn’t a thief; he needed this particular map because it was from 1899 and had details that didn’t appear on the modern editions. Added to that, there were also handwritten annotations and comments included on the back. Whoever he was, the original owner knew the area like the back of his hand.

  Jordy studied the map, trying to work out where the hell he was. Around here wasn’t like the rest of the farm; this consisted of pebbly dirt, gullies, rocks and struggling saplings. This part of the property was always problematic because it was rugged and rocky and you couldn’t plant any crops because of the poor soil and the quartz reef that ran through the area.

  He hadn’t told anyone that he was chasing a legend. Firstly, because most people would think it was another one of his harebrained ideas, and secondly, he didn’t want to see the disappointment in Cath’s eyes if it all turned to naught.

  Jordy folded up the map and pulled a small journal from his jacket pocket. He opened up the volume to one of the marked pages.

  Harlington Gazette, March 1906

  The boy was interviewed by the authorities but no amount of prodding could unlock the whereabouts from his head. All he could remember were tall gums, a rocky outcrop and a deep gully. Unfortunately, these landmarks could be used to describe most of the countryside around Harlington.

  Jordy shut the book and rammed it back into his pocket.

  ‘But it’s here,’ he whispered to himself. ‘It’s here—I know it.’

  He pushed himself off the rock and was about to go in a northwest direction towards one of the gullies that snaked their way through the property when he thought he heard a low whistle.

  Turning around he saw the silhouetted figure of a man walking towards him. He raised one hand to cover his eyes from the sun but still couldn’t work out who it was.

  ‘Hey Jordy! Cath said you might be out here—whatcha up to?’

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The weeks began to fly by for Berry. The contractors finished up and so did the guys who redid the roof. The transformation of the old house was amazing and it was getting harder for Berry to remember what it used to look like—which wasn’t a bad thing. The only remnant of the past was the height chart on the wall between the lounge room and the kitchen. She had ummed and ahhed over the decision to keep it, worried that it could bring back memories which needed to be forgotten. But it hadn’t and Berry was glad that it was still in place. If she closed her eyes, all she could hear was laughter: hers, Mum’s and Jess’s as they marked off each other’s height. It was good and it made her happy.

  One of the biggest changes for Berry was moving out of Cumquat Cottage and back to Stone Gully. She and Andrea had driven up to Bendigo and purchased the bare essentials for the house, including a bed, linen and most importantly a coffee maker. It had been a fun day and watching the deliveries roll up Stone Gully driveway was equally exciting. However, the whole idea of staying in the house by herself did worry her a little—which was ridiculous as she spent most days there on
her own. Anyway, it was a small but persistent thought that she couldn’t seem to shake.

  She had been a bit worried about staying that first night. Berry figured if she could get through that, then everything would be fine. She had, and it was.

  As spring arrived, she sensed hopefulness in the air. But maybe this feeling had less to do with her mind or the change of season than it did with Nate Tarant.

  Before she even realised it was happening, both she and Nate seemed to fall into a rhythm that gave way to a habit—and she knew just how hard they are to break. Nate would come over most days and help her paint. At first it was only when he could get away from work, but as the days progressed, he carved out a couple of hours around the middle of the day. His presence had become expected and Berry looked forward to each afternoon.

  There was a tension between them that was punctuated with a little teasing, but still neither of them had acted upon it—it was as if they were dancing just out of each other’s grasp. Berry had been adamant when she arrived in Harlington that she had no intention of starting any sort of relationship, but now things seemed different and every time she looked at Nate she felt an invisible pull towards him. Putting aside her daydreams of what could be, Berry still had to work out what she was doing with her life. It was all very well to take three or so months to do up the house—none of which would have been possible without her uncle’s help—but at some stage she had to sit down and work out a path for her future. The question she had to figure out was if Nate was part of that.

  Berry was standing in the orchard, admiring the budding blossoms on most of her plum trees. Some of the flowers were white while others were a delicate pink. According to the planting map she had found in her father’s papers, there appeared to be a variety of different trees, which included Satsuma plums and Golden Gage. Not sure about the difference between them all, Berry figured she’d work it out once they bore fruit.

  There was a gentle cool breeze blowing through the orchard, causing the new blossoms to quiver as it passed over them. The sun hung high in the clear sky and Berry could almost catch the hint that spring was beginning to materialise.