From Strength to Strength

by Sara Henderson

  We finally arrived at the church and it was Peg who mentioned we still did not know the minister’s name. She was right. In all the panic and fuss of the previous night, he had left and we still didn’t know his name. Peg said she would find out. I didn’t mind, just as long as the wedding ceremony was pleasant. I didn’t care what his name was.

  As we were doing the final adjustments for Marlee to walk down the aisle with Jack, Peg came over to me.

  ‘His name is Hall, Reverend Hall.’ The bridal march started up and I slipped into the church to be in place to watch my daughter walk down the aisle.

  What a picture she was: absolutely radiant. At that moment I felt great joy and a little sad. If only Charles and Mum could have lived to see this day.

  The minister was a sheer delight. He rambled on, sang a few bars of different hymns during his sermon, lost his train of thought a few times and wandered onto completely different subjects on the punchlines of funny stories he was relating. But, as eccentric as he was, the most amazing thing was still to surface. We were all standing in the courtyard talking after the ceremony when Peg mentioned she lived in Hong Kong.

  ‘Oh, my uncle was in the church in Hong Kong,’ said Reverend Hall. His accent was cockney Australian with a Queensland overtone, if you can imagine it. We were all stunned.

  Peg broke the silence. ‘You can’t mean Bishop Hall?’ Bishop Hall was a quiet, soft-spoken, English gentleman with a very British accent. He seemed worlds apart from this jolly Australian.

  ‘That’s him.’

  ‘But we’ve known Bishop Hall for over forty years. He married Sara in Hong Kong in 1960,’ said Peg.

  ‘Well, what do you know about that?’ And he was off to another appointment.

  We went to the reception still shaking our heads. What an amazing coincidence. Marlee did not know any of this and Jack included it in his speech.

  ‘We sometimes wonder if events are coincidence or planned by fate. A remarkable event has happened today. Sara was married in Hong Kong in 1960 to Charles, and they were married by Bishop R. O. Hall, Bishop of Far East Asia. When Marlee was born, Bishop Hall did Charles the honour of accepting to be her godfather. He visited her in Manila when she was four years old. I had the pleasure of giving Sara away. Now, twenty-eight years later, I gave Marlee away to another Charlie and the minister that performed the wedding was Bishop Hall’s nephew. Now if that’s not predestined, I don’t know what is.’

  Marlee looked at me amazed, her eyes asking, Is this true? I nodded and she smiled.

  The wedding was a great success and the dancing went on and on. Eventually I told Marlee and Charlie it was time to change and say goodbye. ‘No way!’ they said. They were having too much fun to leave. The only way around this was for them to go through the goodbyes, leave, and come back in the other door. This they agreed to. The circle was formed, Marlee threw her bouquet and they left through one door and, one minute later, came in another. They danced until three.

  As Charlie said, ‘I’m not wasting all that money spent on dancing lessons.’

  As a surprise, Danielle and I had booked the bridal suite in the apartment building where we were staying. We had looked at it during the week. It was all white, even the carpet, and had a spa bath and enormous bedroom and bed. We bought some lacy bits and pieces for Marlee, some unmentionables for Charlie, and put champagne and strawberries in the fridge. We told the girls in reception to tell them that due to a breakdown in the airconditioning, they had to be moved to another apartment for the night. The surprise was complete and Marlee called at three-thirty in the morning to tell me.

  We stayed in Brisbane for a few more days and then Danielle and I headed back to the station, while Marlee and Charlie went on a driving holiday up the coast, ending up at Charlie’s family’s property near Cooktown. They were going to stay there for a few months until mustering started at Bullo.

  CHAPTER 23

  1988

  Mustering began around April and it was wonderful to have Marlee and Charlie home. For the first time in years, the station began to show signs of care, with functional yards, and water and feed for the cattle. No more complaints, as in the old days, of cattle arriving at the meatworks too weak to stand. But we had a lot of work ahead of us.

  At one yarding alone we had eight hundred unbranded, fully grown cattle, in a yarding of seventeen hundred head. This showed bad mustering techniques and cattle control. Apart from these problems, there was the other major problem which we had discussed in 1987 of not enough breeders. This year it was even more evident. We were simply not producing enough steers.

  Around May/June, after our two major musters, we sat down and discussed the problem again. It was clear we couldn’t put off the decision any longer. We had to buy more breeding cows and bulls if our herd was ever going to improve. Queensland was still in drought and the stations were selling more and more breeders each year as the drought continued. A lot of properties were down to their best foundation stock. If we were going to buy breeders, now was the right time to get top quality for a reasonable price.

  I was still struggling, paying Charles’s debts. I had sold the house in Queensland, a gift from Charles which I had never even slept in; I had sold his boat which was in such disrepair that her value was dropping by the month; and I had sold some gold leases that had cost a fortune to buy and maintain and yet we had never had the money to do anything with them. All the money from these sales, and my lucky run on the stock market, had brought us back to a point where we could service the loan still outstanding. Now to go back into the realms of uncertainty and debt again . . .

  But the facts could not be ignored: we had to bring in more breeders, now. We also had to remove all the old scrubber bulls and buy more good Brahman bulls.

  Charles had bought good Brahman bulls way back in 1975, but the herd did not improve. This was because we had too many wild scrubber bulls serving inferior inbred shorthorn cows, while the good Brahman bulls sat under a tree and sulked.

  Our first move was to buy a short wheel-base Toyota and turn it into a bull-catcher.

  Marlee had been taught the technique of bull-catching by two of the top bull-catchers in the North—Tommy Teece and John Kirby. Of course she didn’t actually have lessons. In 1983 and 1984 when Charles destocked cows under the BTEC programme, he also hired contract bull-catchers to bring down the wild bull problem. Our bulls were such that the difference between what was termed a scrubber and what we had to work with as a breeding bull was scarcely discernible. So Marlee would drive around with the bull-catcher telling him which bulls we considered to be breeding bulls and which scrubbers.

  During this time, she perfected the art of bull-catching. With the little ‘green machine’—that is the bull-catcher’s name—Marlee catches, on an average, one hundred and eighty bulls each year, and has done for the last four years.

  It is not hard to see why the Brahman breeding bulls Charles had bought over the years did not have much chance to do their thing. Along with the contract bull-catching done in the early eighties and the regular yearly turn-off in the last four years, we have removed close to two thousand scrubber bulls and mickies (baby bulls) from the property. This has not only earned us good money, but it has also had a marked effect on the quality of the herd. The Brahman bulls are no longer sitting under trees sulking.

  With the bull-catching programme now at least started, the next immediate step was to buy quality breeders and bulls. So it was back to the bank. I enthusiastically outlined the great plan Marlee, Danielle, Charlie and I had drawn up. They listened and said it sounded good, but could I present a feasibility study? I told them timing was of the essence—if the drought in Queensland broke, cattle prices would go up and the herd we proposed to purchase of one thousand breeder cows and sixty breeder bulls would double in cost. The price we were working on per head was our limit. But still, they needed a feasibility study. I had seen a few of these so-called ‘feasibility studies’. Charles had had so
me done for his wondrous schemes. They were enough to cure me of ‘feasibility studies’ for life. But the facts remained: no feasibility study, no loan.

  When the accountants told me how much the feasibility study would cost, I was stunned. I had had no idea I had hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of this humbug sitting in Charles’s ‘wondrous schemes’ filing cabinet. The extraordinary amount the accountant quoted, plus a time frame of six months to complete a professional feasibility study, was out of the question. So I did my own feasibility study.

  I locked myself in the office for five days and nights and came up with what I considered a fair presentation. I made a graph of the new herd with the yearly calving expectancy, the turn-off (steers sold), the value of the turn-off, the value of the heifers that moved into the herd as breeding cows, and what it would all mean to the overall operation of the station over a period of ten years.

  I used the format of one of Charles’s super-expensive feasibility studies, substituting our idea and plan for his idea and plan. It worked. The bank came back after ten days and said to go ahead. However, even with all this speed, we missed the herd of cattle we had had all lined up to buy. We received the bank’s approval around midday and went straight to the owner with a firm offer, only to be told the cattle had been sold the night before.

  So Marlee and Charlie started looking for another large herd on the market. This was not that simple. There were plenty of cattle for sale, but we had to find a good bloodline of Brahmans raised on hard country as cattle from ‘soft’ country would not survive up here. So we really had to do our homework.

  The court case of Bonnie versus Bullo River was now looming on the horizon. The feelings this provoked would fill many books, but I will not even attempt to record mine. I was so down, I knew that if I tackled the problem, it could finish me. I had to walk away from it, bury it very deep. I told my lawyer to settle out of court on the condition that I did not have to see Bonnie or her husband in person during the settlement. I was not acquainted with the legal procedure, but apparently this was in fact the norm rather than unusual.

  On the 2nd of August, 1988, in my lawyer’s office in Darwin, I signed papers pertaining to and finalising this dreadful affair. Somewhere, in another office, I assume Bonnie did the same, and on the 2nd of August, 1988, I lost a daughter.

  A film crew from Germany arrived at Bullo. Hardy Krüger wanted to film us and Bullo as part of a series to be shown in Germany called ‘Hardy Krüger’s Weltenbummler’. The series was about Krüger travelling to interesting places around the world. Matthew, the director from ‘The Henderson Daughters’ Big Country story, came with the crew.

  We were busy mustering cattle; we were really too busy to spare the time, and perhaps I should have said no. During the first few days of filming, a bushfire came over the mountain and into the southwestern corner of the valley about twenty-five miles from the homestead. It had to be stopped or it would burn all the feed in that section. Filming was suspended and we all became fire fighters.

  With Marlee, Charlie and Danielle directing, we managed to clear a fire break wide enough to stop the fire advancing, and after a few more days of fighting, the fire was contained and slowly burned itself out.

  It was the second to last day of filming. The girls and Charlie had been loading cattle on trucks all day, and did not get back to the homestead until nine-thirty that night. They were exhausted, but we still had to do a dinner sequence for the film crew. So at eleven p.m., there we were having a candlelight dinner, with about eight super bright lights all around, pretending to enjoy ourselves. Normally, when we came in at nine-thirty at night after loading cattle, we would grab a bite to eat, head for a hot bath and collapse into bed. Having to shower, dress and sit down to a candlelight dinner and small talk, after seventeen and a half hours in cattle yards, seemed just ridiculous.

  However, we eventually did what was required for the camera and could go to bed. At least there was only one more day of filming. Not that we didn’t enjoy having the crew, but it meant eight more people to cater for, and the girls and Charlie already had more work than they could manage, without having to do silly things for the camera.

  At about eleven the next morning, there was to be the usual galloping of horses past the camera that all crews seem to want. Charlie was rounding up the horses on his motor bike. Then the final scene would be the girls and I standing on the mountain where Charles’s ashes are, overlooking the valley.

  It was now midday. People had been rushing in and out of the house for the past hour. There seemed to be a problem but I dismissed it as technical. Marlee came into the house and as she rushed through I yelled, ‘What’s wrong?’

  As she ran towards the helicopter, she shouted back, ‘I don’t know yet.’ The helicopter disappeared in a cloud of dust.

  Only minutes later, the helicopter landed again and the pilot asked to talk to me. I walked with him into the living room where we could be alone. I knew from his face that something had happened, but even my worst fears did not prepare me for his next words.

  ‘Charlie has been accidentally killed. His motorbike hit an anthill in the grass, he was thrown off. His neck was broken.’

  I just stared at him as these words ricocheted around my brain.

  ‘Marlee?’

  ‘She is with him now, bringing him back in the Toyota.’

  ‘No, oh Marlee, no!’ The words echoed down a long tunnel. I was led to my bedroom and I cried and cried. I wanted to go to Marlee but I couldn’t bear to see the pain that I knew would be there. She was with Charlie in their bedroom. I knew I should be strong for her but at that moment I was a mess. I had to gather myself.

  It took me hours, but I finally said, ‘I must go to Marlee.’

  She would not leave Charlie, so I had to go into their room. I walked halfway across the room and saw that wonderful man lying there, and Marlee’s eyes asking me to make him wake up. I broke. I really don’t know what I did. I think I simply collapsed in a howling heap.

  I remember Danielle saying, ‘Take Mummy out of the room, quickly.’

  Once away from that heartbreaking scene, I slowly calmed down.

  During the terrible time that followed, Danielle was wonderful. She was a pillar of strength. She quietly organised everything, as well as taking care of Marlee and me.

  People were everywhere. At some some time, the film crew departed, the Timber Creek police arrived, Ralph flew over from Queensland, Charlie’s father and brothers arrived, as well as many friends. I think I did speak to them all, but I do not remember clearly.

  Danielle came to me. The police had to take Charlie away and Marlee wouldn’t let them. Even Danielle could not convince her. She was now in deep shock and firmly believed he would wake up and everything would be back to normal.

  I had to go back into that room. I had to find the strength. I walked in and we looked at each other in silence, tears streaming down our faces.

  ‘He is going to be alright, isn’t he?’ Her eyes pleaded with me to say yes. I quietly shook my head. We cried together for a long time. Eventually there was a knock on the door.

  ‘You have to say goodbye to Charlie, darling, he has to leave us now.’ She did, and her pain and agony broke my heart.

  After he had gone she curled up on the part of the bed where he had lain and softly cried. Danielle brought in two ‘knock-out’ pills and we both found respite in oblivion.

  Marlee stayed in deep shock until well after the funeral. She had wanted Charlie to be buried here on Bullo, but his parents asked if he could be buried in the town of Mareeba, the town nearest their property. Marlee granted them this wish, so we flew to Cairns.

  It was a terrible journey. Such sadness is hard to describe. Our wonderful friend Peter Roberts flew from Sydney especially to take us to Cairns. He picked us up in Darwin, flew with us to Cairns via Alice Springs, and then flew all the way back to Sydney. He did this simply to ensure our grief could be private. I feel very privileged
to have a friend such as Peter.

  Watching Charlie’s coffin being lowered into the ground sent a cold, numb feeling through me. We were now alone again.

  On our sad journey home another thoughtful friend, Jim Craven, made the journey bearable with his help and thoughtfulness. Jim had helped us over the years with many machine and truck purchases, and he and Marlee’s Charlie had spent hours discussing machines whenever Jim visited the station. So in our darkest hour, many friends put out their hands to help us.

  We returned to the station. Marlee was so sad that nothing except silence was appropriate. I slept in the room with her and helped her through some terrible nights and nightmares. Some nights were so bad, I was ready to give in. There seemed no way we could climb the mountains of grief.

  I was now fifty-two years old. I had lost my husband, my mother, a daughter in litigation, my son-in-law, and now it seemed Marlee was lost in grief forever. She would take a knock-out pill and sit in a daze all day. She hardly ate, and was losing weight at a frightening rate. I couldn’t see the point of going on.

  But then what would happen to Marlee? Filters of light started to flicker through my gloom. Danielle’s lovely face would smile wistfully at me whenever she found me sad. Slowly I realised I had to keep fighting. I still had Marlee, Danielle, my family and many wonderful friends. I had my health and I had a home to fight for. And I just couldn’t give more grief to my daughters.

  I decided the first thing I had to do was get those knock-out pills away from Marlee. She had to face the grief without the dope and then I would know if I would ever see the Marlee I once knew again. We would start the very next day.

  The next morning I found her in the kitchen. ‘Marlee, you must get off those pills. The few days I was on them was terrible. You’ve been on them too long.’ She turned to me and I could see immediately her eyes looked better.