Mud and Gold

by Shayne Parkinson

  ‘Horse?’ Malcolm said hesitantly.

  ‘That’s right! Good boy. See, you’re clever really, I knew you were. Now, Mal, I’ll tell you a secret. Yesterday I made some of that special fudge you like—you know, the sort with nuts in it—and I’ve hidden the tin, so it’s no use you looking around the kitchen. If you can get all three of these words right for me I’ll give you three pieces—yes, you can have some too, Davie, don’t look so worried.’ Counting out the pieces of fudge would serve as the day’s arithmetic lesson, she decided; it would be almost too trivial, but would guarantee success for Malcolm.

  Thus motivated, Malcolm let himself be coached through reading ‘mount’ and ‘saddle’, and Amy praised him profusely for having managed the two-syllable word. Next she made up a quiz by listing all the colours of horse she could think of, and turned helping Malcolm guess the right answers into a game, with David trying to guess them first. It was already obvious that David was reading at least as well as Malcolm, and Amy was grateful that Malcolm knew so much more about horses than his younger brother did. It was important that Malcolm won such games.

  As soon as she saw Malcolm’s enthusiasm begin to flag, Amy folded up the pieces of paper and made the boys close their eyes while she fetched the tin of promised fudge from beneath her bed. ‘How about you and me do some reading and things again soon, Mal? Not every day, just sometimes.’

  ‘Will you make more fudge?’ Malcolm asked.

  Amy laughed. ‘I might. You’ll have to see.’ She put her arm around him and hugged him before he had time to pull away. ‘Now, you boys go outside out of my way, I’ve got to make some scones for your pa’s morning tea.’

  David rushed out the back door, eager to let Biff off the chain and take his dog for a run, but Malcolm stopped just inside the door. ‘That wasn’t as boring as it is at school, Ma,’ he said. ‘It sort of makes more sense when it’s real things like horses.’

  Amy smiled at him. ‘That’s good, Mal. I’ll have to make sure it keeps on making sense.’

  She breathed a sigh of relief, and realised how much she had been enjoying herself. She could not hope to do more than help Malcolm scramble through the first few Standards; he had missed too much work to have any chance of reaching one of the senior Standards before it was time for him to leave school. But at least she could save him a few beatings.

  It was fear of his father’s stick that had moved the boy to take notice of her, Amy knew, not any desire for learning, and that fear tended to fade along with the bruises. But rewarding him with treats when he did his work properly would help.

  Rewards for work well done, and lessons that were made interesting for Malcolm; that was how she would go on. How on earth am I going to bring horses into it when he gets into Standard Two or Three and he has to start learning history and geography? she wondered briefly, then smiled to herself. I’ll manage.

  *

  There were few enough incidents out of the ordinary in an area like Ruatane, and when something as dramatic as Frank Kelly’s selling a yearling bull for thirty pounds occurred the population made the most of it. Within days of the sale it seemed that everyone within ten miles of the town knew about it, and with the news coming on top of Orange Blossom’s success in the show earlier that year Frank found to his astonishment that he had become something of a celebrity.

  He could not appear in public without several men asking how his cows were doing. After Frank had learned to overcome his initial response, which was to shuffle his feet, mumble a reply and wish he were elsewhere, he began to find the interest rather gratifying. There were no jokes about ‘Frank Kelly’s funny-looking cows’ now.

  The new status that Frank had gained in the community had an effect more concrete than improving his confidence when speaking to people beyond his immediate family. When the time came to put Duke William in with the cows for the bull’s annual recreation, Frank found that there were a few farmers whose interest in the qualities of his Jerseys went beyond mere admiration: they wanted to hire Duke William to service their cows. Although the money exchanged was only a matter of a few shillings for each hiring, Frank swelled with pride.

  ‘They all know Duke William’s the best bull in Ruatane,’ he told Lizzie one night as they lay in the darkness, Mickey’s breathing a gentle soughing from his cradle under the window.

  ‘He won’t wear himself out, will he?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Doing all those other cows as well as yours?’

  ‘Not that fellow,’ Frank said stoutly. ‘He could do twice that number and not notice the strain.’

  ‘You and your bull! Anyone would think it was you they wanted to hire.’

  ‘No thanks, you’re trouble enough.’ Frank patted Lizzie’s belly, searching for the as yet imperceptible bulge. ‘Well, you can’t blame William for the state you’re in this time. I started this one well before he got on the job.’

  ‘Mmm. I’m not going to be able to wear my new dress much longer, eh? Never mind, it’s got good, deep seams, I’ll be able to wear it after the new baby comes even if I do put on a bit of weight.’

  ‘All the more to cuddle.’ Frank rolled onto his back and drew Lizzie towards him until she laid her head on his shoulder. ‘It’ll be just about time to start building that new cow shed when the baby arrives.’

  ‘Well! It’s easy to tell what matters most to you, isn’t it? That’s a fine way to talk about your child.’

  ‘Don’t go getting huffy, you know what’s most important to me.’ He planted a kiss on her nose. ‘You are, you old chook. But I’ve got to think about the cow shed and all that, or I’ll never get things how I want them for you. They won’t just happen by themselves.’

  ‘You think about things too much,’ Lizzie said, the beginnings of drowsiness in her voice. ‘We’re all right.’

  ‘I know we are, but “all right” isn’t good enough for you.’ He shifted slightly, finding a more comfortable position. ‘You know, I reckon it’d be better for us if we had one of those co-operatives.’

  ‘What on earth is that?’

  ‘I’ve told you about them—the dairy advisor mentioned it when he came out that time, and I’ve been reading about them in the Farmer. You know, butter factories the farmers own themselves instead of just a few businessmen making all the money.’

  ‘That’s right, you did go on about it for a while. It’s hard to remember that stuff when I’m half asleep.’ She was quiet for a few moments, then spoke again as if interested despite herself. ‘But if the farmers own the factory themselves, doesn’t it take a lot of money to buy it in the first place?’

  ‘A heck of a lot.’

  ‘So where does the money come from?’

  ‘The banks loan it, then every month a bit of money from the butter goes to the bank to pay it back.’

  ‘Well, that’s no use, then. You must have borrowed about all the money Mr Callaghan had in the bank.’

  Frank chuckled. ‘I expect he’s still got a few pounds to lend. The dairy fellow said it costs about two thousand pounds to set up a factory.’

  He felt Lizzie jolt into wakefulness. ‘What?’ she said in a voice that was nearly a shriek.

  ‘Shh!’ They both lay in frozen silence, listening for any sign that Lizzie’s exclamation had woken Mickey, but the little boy merely snorted in his sleep and sank back into peaceful breathing.

  ‘You could fire a gun beside that child and he wouldn’t wake up,’ Lizzie said. ‘Frank, you’re not going to try and borrow two thousand pounds, are you?’

  ‘Of course not! Mr Callaghan would laugh me out of the bank if I even suggested it. No, the idea is you get twenty or so farmers into it, then you each only have to borrow about a hundred pounds.’

  ‘Oh, that doesn’t sound nearly as bad. I thought you’d gone silly for a minute. So, when are you going to start up this factory?’

  The magnitude of the task loomed before Frank. Unlike buying the Jerseys, this was not something he could do alone, with only the bank manager
to convince. ‘I don’t know, Lizzie, probably never. No one else around here is interested in that sort of thing.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to talk them into it,’ Lizzie said, as though describing the simplest of tasks.

  ‘How would I do that?’

  ‘Tell them why it’s a good idea, just like you’ve been telling me. It sounds like sense to me.’

  ‘But you take notice of me, Lizzie—when it suits you, anyway. No one else does.’

  ‘Make them. You must know more about that sort of thing than anyone else around here, with all that stuff you keep reading. The other farmers are mad if they don’t listen to you.’

  Frank’s mouth found its way to Lizzie’s lips and pressed against them. ‘You make me feel ten feet tall—when you’re not making me feel like I’m two years old and I’ve been a brat, anyway.’

  ‘I don’t do that!’

  ‘Well, not very often. Maybe I will try talking to some of the other men about a co-operative, see what they think. The worst they can do is laugh.’ Being laughed at, though still something he disliked, no longer held the terrors it once had for Frank.

  ‘They won’t laugh! Look at all those men who want to hire Duke William.’

  ‘Three of them so far, Lizzie. That’s not exactly the whole town. And there’s a big difference between giving me a few shillings to hire my bull and letting me talk them into borrowing a hundred pounds. I wonder if…’

  ‘What?’ Lizzie prompted.

  ‘Oh, just getting mad ideas again.’

  ‘What mad ideas? Tell me.’

  ‘I was sort of thinking… maybe if I did take a couple of the cows up to Auckland—you know, to that show I was talking about—and if they did all right there—’

  ‘Then they’d take notice of you!’ Lizzie finished for him. ‘That’s just what’ll happen.’

  ‘Maybe. If I go—I still haven’t made up my mind, you know.’

  ‘Oh, yes you have,’ said Lizzie. ‘You’re going to that show. It’s decided.’ Having made her announcement, she rolled onto her side and promptly fell into the deep sleep of the utterly self-assured.

  33

  January – March 1894

  Frank was not one to struggle against the inevitable, especially when it was something he wanted to do. Once Lizzie had stated so categorically that he was to go to Auckland for the show, the idea took on the status of a settled thing, and Frank began working towards making it happen.

  There were letters to be written, entering his animals for the show and booking a room in a boarding house for himself. Then he had to book passage on the Waiotahi to Tauranga, and from there to Auckland on the Wellington; he could not leave it to chance that the boats would have room for one bull and three cows on the days when he would need to travel, especially on the slightly smaller Waiotahi. The cost of his adventure mounted steadily, but as the time drew nearer Frank grew more and more certain that it was the right thing to do.

  The arrangements for the trip were not difficult. They were simply a matter of dealing with people who were ready and willing to provide what he needed in return for his money. Such people did not need to be convinced that the trip was a sensible idea.

  Getting what he wanted from Arthur would be another matter altogether. He could not possibly leave the farm without someone trustworthy installed to do the heavy work while he was away. Using one of Lizzie’s brothers was the obvious solution. And while he did not concede Lizzie’s teasing claim that he needed someone to see that he behaved himself while he was away, he would welcome some help with the animals on the trip, as well as the company of someone familiar when among so many strangers. That meant getting Arthur’s acquiescence, even if his enthusiasm was too much to hope for.

  The memory of how terrified he had been when asking for Lizzie’s hand made Frank smile. Arthur had given him the most precious thing he had had to offer; it was a small enough favour by comparison that Frank wanted now.

  Early in February Frank’s letter-writing tasks were complete, and he was ready to tackle Arthur. His opportunity came soon enough, when he took Lizzie and the children up to his father-in-law’s for Sunday lunch, on what would be one of Lizzie’s last outings before pregnancy confined her to home.

  After the usual huge family meal, the women shooed the older children outside to play and began carrying the dishes to the bench. Ernie made himself scarce before anyone could suggest he should play with the children, and the men went into the parlour to digest their meal in comfort.

  As Frank discovered when he questioned Lizzie later, she had not quite trusted him to raise the subject, and had taken her own precautions. When she had seen her mother a few days earlier, Lizzie had let slip the news of Frank’s proposed journey, knowing that Edie would report it to Arthur, albeit in a garbled state.

  Sure enough, Frank had barely settled comfortably into an armchair before Arthur assailed him.

  ‘What’s this I hear about you going to Auckland?’

  ‘Well, I was sort of thinking of going,’ Frank admitted, taken aback.

  ‘Edie says you’re taking all those Jerseys of yours up there to show someone.’

  ‘Not all of them!’ Frank said, trying to hide a smile.

  ‘Yes, well, Edie gets a bit muddled sometimes. I didn’t think you’d be that stupid. What mad idea’s got into your head now, Frank?’

  Frank saw Bill and Alf exchange an amused glance, and Bill rolled his eyes at Frank in sympathy. This was not quite the way he had planned to launch into the subject, but it was too late to worry about that now.

  ‘There’s a big show on in Auckland next month. I want to take Duke William and three of the cows up to it.’

  Arthur sighed, and shook his head. ‘Frank, you don’t want to do that,’ he said, speaking slowly as if to a very young child. ‘You’ve no idea what you’d be letting yourself in for. You’d have to take them up on the steamer, then organise grazing for them—in the city, mind you—as well as find a place to stay yourself. You’d never get all that sorted out, certainly not by next month.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve done all that,’ said Frank.

  ‘What?’ Arthur erupted. ‘You haven’t!’

  ‘Yes, I thought I’d get that settled before I mentioned it to you—I didn’t want to worry you about that stuff. I’ve booked all the passages, I’ve got a place for myself, and the animals will stay at the place where the show’s going to be. It’s all set.’ He studied Arthur, and was gratified to see how disconcerted his father-in-law looked.

  ‘You’re a bit of a dark horse, aren’t you?’ said Arthur. ‘How much is this jaunt going to cost you?’

  ‘A fair amount,’ Frank admitted. ‘That’s all right, though, I’m using a little bit of what I sold the bull for.’ Arthur winced at this reference, and Frank pressed the point home. ‘Thirty pounds I got for him.’

  ‘Yes, I know that, Frank. You’d steal the crutches from a cripple, you would—taking thirty pounds for that bull! The man must have been a simpleton.’ Frank hid a grin, aware of the reluctant admiration behind Arthur’s invective. ‘Never mind all that, it’s still a mad notion.’

  ‘I don’t think it is,’ said Frank.

  ‘I know you don’t, that’s why I’m explaining it to you. This isn’t like driving a couple of cows into the Ruatane show.’

  ‘I know. That’s why I need to go there.’ Frank hurried on before Arthur had time to interrupt. ‘No one’s going to hear about my cows if I never go out of Ruatane. There’ll be hundreds of farmers at that show, and they’ll all get a look at my Jerseys. Next thing you know, I’ll have a few more people wanting to buy the odd animal. Thirty pounds for that bull, Pa,’ he reminded Arthur.

  ‘Don’t you go getting big-headed, Frank. The world isn’t full of fools lining up to get fleeced by you.’

  Frank laughed. ‘It doesn’t have to be! I don’t need to sell many at that price, do I?’ He saw that Arthur was on the verge of irritation, and assumed a more serious expression.
Now came the hard part. ‘I want to ask you a favour, Pa. Quite a big one.’

  ‘Oh, you do, do you?’ said Arthur.

  ‘Mmm. I need someone to stay at my place and look after the farm while I’m away. Just to do the milking and see to the horses. Everything else can wait, I’ll only be gone a week.’

  ‘You’ve got a cheek, Frank! You march up here and tell me what you will and won’t do, then you want me to let you have one of my sons so you can go off on this jaunt.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Frank. ‘I’d like it to be someone I could trust to do a good job. Of course, if it doesn’t suit you to do without them I thought I might ask Matt Aitken if he could lend me one of his boys.’ He held his breath to see if this bluff would come off; he had no intention of asking such a favour of the Aitkens.

  ‘You’ll do no such thing!’ Arthur said indignantly. ‘Getting strangers to look after your animals when you’ve family here!’

  ‘I’d much rather one of you helped me out. I just thought if it didn’t suit—’

  ‘Never mind whether it suits or not, that’s what’s going to happen. One of the boys can go down there.’ Arthur glanced across the room at his older two sons. Before he had the chance to make any announcement on which one was to be chosen, Alf spoke up.

  ‘I’m not going. I don’t want Lizzie bossing me around—it was bad enough when she lived here.’

  ‘You’ll go if I tell you to, boy,’ Arthur said, sounding affronted, but Bill cut in before an argument could develop.

  ‘Send Ernie down, Pa,’ he suggested. ‘You were saying just the other day he’s been getting a bit unruly lately, Lizzie’ll sort him out for you.’

  ‘Yes, she might just do that,’ Arthur said thoughtfully. ‘Especially with Frank not there to keep her in line.’ He smiled at the notion. ‘That’d teach him to know when he’s well off. Right, Frank, you can have Ernie.’