by Joy Rhoades
THE WOOLGROWER’S COMPANION, 1906
Kate was at the back of the house picking the first beans from the far garden bed when the truck pulled up outside the fence. Her basin of beans in one arm, she went inside to get her father. She called to him from outside the closed office door. ‘Dad, the men are here. To talk about joining.’
He said something or other through the door and she waited. ‘Remember, Dad? You asked me to get them to come and talk to you?’
‘Tell em to bugger off!’
That was clear as a bell. Kate went back outside. As she walked across the dead lawn, she willed herself to be civil to Grimes, no matter what he’d done to Harry and Rusty.
‘Dad’s in the middle of something,’ she said to the two men on the other side of the fence. Ed looked past her towards the kitchen.
‘He said you should talk to me, tell me.’ Kate swallowed hard.
Grimes glanced off towards the horizon and shook his head.
‘Talk t’ya about joinin?’ Ed looked confused.
‘Yes. When we’ll start, how many cycles and the joining ratio. I’ll tell Dad.’
Ed looked at her curiously. She could see Canali in the back of the truck and didn’t want him to hear her talking joining and impregnation rates. Ed and Grimes were bad enough.
‘Orright,’ Ed said and Kate was grateful.
‘When will you begin them?’ she asked.
‘I reckon in about three weeks, once they built up a bit on the grain. Do the usual joinin over eight weeks, to catch three of the ewes’ cycles.’
That sounded right. She racked her brains for the other drought bits. ‘What about the ram ratio?’
‘One ram to a hundred,’ Ed said.
‘Shouldn’t we go higher? Because of the drought?’
Ed considered that. ‘We could, yeah. Good thought. We’ll have young Basil as well as Minute Man and the others.’
‘Can we count on Basil? Will he be old enough?’
Grimes gave a noiseless laugh. ‘He’ll work it out.’
Kate felt the heat of her skin as she blushed. A chook darted out from under the tank stand.
‘Basil’ll be orright,’ Ed said. ‘He be six months b’then. We’ll put Minute Man with the maiden ewes, Basil with the others. But lamb losses will be higher this year, if the dry goes on, eh.’
‘What can we expect, do you think?’ Kate asked.
‘Depends,’ Ed said. ‘If we don’t get good rain by lambin in August, it’ll be bad, I tell ya, Mrs D. The pasture’ll be gone. The pigs and foxes’ll be more’n hungry and the ewes’ll be toey, too. The ewes walk away, see, from a lamb, even from both twins. To save theirselfs.’
‘Then the buy-in’ll cost,’ Grimes said.
‘You mean buying other stock to replace the ones that have died?’
When Grimes laughed, she tried not to get mad. ‘Well?’ she said.
‘Yeah. That’s it. Prices’ll be high to buy in, even for them with the money.’
Kate glanced away. They were edging up to the overdraft limit, and after lambing they’d have shearing supplies and shearers’ wages to come, even assuming she wasn’t off the place by then. There’d be little money left to restock.
‘I’ll tell Dad.’
With that, Grimes headed to the truck and Ed followed.
‘Oh Ed, one other thing?’ Kate called after him.
‘Yeah?’ He came back to the fence, as Grimes climbed into the truck cab.
‘I … want a word about Daisy.’ Her voice was soft.
‘Yeah?’ He seemed annoyed.
‘If anyone touches her, they’ll be sacked. You understand?’ Johnno and Spinks had wives. Ed must know Kate meant him.
‘Sacked,’ she said again. She couldn’t be clearer.
He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it, his face grim.
A shout went up from the rise towards the ram paddock. It was Harry, waving his arms. ‘Minute Man!’ he shouted. ‘Minute Man!’
They ran, all of them, Kate, Grimes and Canali from the truck, and Ed with his uneven gait. From the top of the house paddock, Kate could see Minute Man was down, his four legs in the air, Harry crouched next to him.
The ram was in a bad way. Minute Man’s stomach was bloated on the left side and the right was taut like a drum. Green froth oozed out of his nostrils, and dung and grain lay around him.
Canali clamped the ram’s muzzle as Ed ran his hands over his belly. Kate pulled Harry back and could feel he was shaking.
‘Get some bakin soda and oil,’ Grimes called to Kate. ‘Bloody fast. Run and git it.’
‘He’s too far gone. Gotta cut im.’ Ed stood up, unclipping the cover of the knife sheath at his belt.
‘You’ll kill im. You’ll hit a kidney.’ Grimes turned and yelled at Kate, ‘Get the bakin soda, Mrs D!’
But Kate didn’t move, her eyes fixed on the ram’s head in Canali’s hands. The panting and the oozing green froth had stopped. ‘What do you reckon, Ed?’ she asked.
‘He’ll be dead by the time y’back.’
‘Then go ahead.’
‘No ya bloody won’t,’ Grimes said.
‘The ram’s dying,’ Kate said. ‘Go ahead.’
‘Jesus. He’ll bloody kill im.’ Grimes, his face red, stalked off to the truck, cursing.
With Canali’s help, Ed shouldered the ram off his back onto his right side. Then he lowered his left knee onto his neck, pinning the creature against the ground. Ed spread the wool on the highest part of the ram’s swollen belly, brought the knife up against the animal’s skin then drove it into the tight, distended stomach. A soft whoosh of air brought a smell with it and Minute Man coughed and struggled. Ed held him down, knife in place, even as the ram thrashed its legs. Then, in one movement he pulled the knife out and stepped back. Minute Man scrambled to his feet. The ram staggered a few steps, stopping about ten feet out, eyeing them warily. He panted, his eyes glazed still.
‘Will e be orright?’ Harry said, distraught.
‘We’ll see.’ Ed wiped the knife on a dead tussock and put it back in its sheath. Beyond the gully, a mob of dusty kangaroos moved off.
‘I’ll get Johnno down here now to clean up the grain,’ Ed said as they walked back. ‘Someone musta give im too much.’
Kate took Harry’s hand and for once he did not pull it away. ‘I did,’ she said. ‘If anyone asks, I did it.’
‘You’re the boss,’ Ed said.
Kate didn’t feel like the boss. She looked at Canali. ‘Do you understand?’
He gave her his half grin and tapped his chest with a thumb. ‘Sì. Capisco, Signora. Understand.’
Kate decided that would do, even if his grin was a little too familiar. And at least he seemed to have forgiven her about Rusty. She just hoped Grimes wouldn’t find out that it was Harry who fed the grain to Minute Man.
CHAPTER 18
Where an experienced woolgrower is able to negotiate a private sale for stock, he should take care to strike a fair bargain. Notwithstanding, the prudent woolgrower is best served by disclosing his terms to no one else save his bank manager.
THE WOOLGROWER’S COMPANION, 1906
The following morning early, Harry ran up onto the verandah. ‘Bloody Minute Man run me outta his paddock just now, eh. E’s orright!’
‘Well, good. But you better get going. Mrs Pommer’ll have your guts for garters if you’re late for school,’ Kate said from the kitchen.
‘Gotta get me plants.’
‘What plants?’ she asked.
He went by her into the laundry and emerged moments later with a fistful of eucalypt and myall leaves, their stalks dripping onto the floor. He shook the water off, and tied them carefully together with string.
‘Botany t’day,’ he said, putting the tied bundle in his hat and his hat on his head. ‘Daisy learned me the poisonous ones. Her nan learned her. Before she come here, eh.’
‘Taught, Harry, taught. And you can’t eat leaves.’
‘Not me, ya drongo. Stock. What’s poison for sheep and cattle.’
Kate ignored the drongo part. She was glad he and Daisy were mates. It was good for both of them. She watched him run across the dead lawn, pulling his school case onto his back. He jumped over a black chook at the gate, then climbed onto the mounting stump and onto a tetchy Ben. The pony, with boy aboard, moved off slowly down the track towards the crossing, just as the phone rang.
‘Mrs Dowd? Captain Rook. Could I see you this afternoon on Amiens? Around two?’
‘Of course. Is —?’
He’d rung off before she could ask why. Kate wondered what could bring the good captain out. If he wanted something, what could she get in return? She was turning that over in her head, her hands round a tea towel and a wet dish, when she saw Grimes pull up in the truck. He’d come to dress her down over Minute Man, for sure.
She took her time to wipe her hands and go out, preparing herself. She didn’t want to have a go at him over the dog and poor Harry.
Grimes took his hat off, not out of politeness, and folded his arms across his blue shirt. ‘Listen here, Mrs D. First, you give the bloody ram too much grain. Damn near kill im.’ His face grew pink, colour flooding the broken capillaries that stretched across his nose and between his eyebrows. ‘And then ya tell young Ed to cut im when I say don’t. Looks bad for me with the men, what you did.’
Kate eyed her feet.
‘An no offence, but I don’t work for a slip of a sheila. I work for ya father. Stay out of things, Mrs D. Ya don’t run the place and ya can’t run the place. Ya hear me?’
She stuck her fingernails into her palms to keep quiet. Grimes went back to the truck.
In the kitchen, Daisy watched her closely. ‘You orright, Missus?’
Kate nodded, picking up her tea towel.
‘Is e dark about the ram?’ Daisy asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Ed saved im but, eh?’ she said, proudly.
‘He did.’
She gave a tiny shrug and rolled her eyes.
Kate turned away, surprised that Daisy would still have a crush on Ed after the bruises he’d left on her arm. How could she?
That afternoon, on the dot of two, Captain Rook arrived in an Army staff car. Kate was pleased he was Oil free. They sat down in the wicker chairs on the verandah. The captain took off his slouch hat and smoothed his hair. Then he grinned at her, conscious that she’d caught him grooming.
Kate set a cup on a saucer for him and poured his tea.
‘The Yanks are bombing Tokyo and Yokohama,’ the captain said. It was his small talk but still good to hear.
‘So it might end soon?’
He shook his head. ‘It’s not over yet. It’ll take some doing to get the Japs out of the Pacific islands. Your father fought in the First War, didn’t he? How is he?’
She wondered how much he knew. ‘It catches up with him sometimes.’
‘Battle of Amiens, I take it?’
‘And before that too, all on the Western Front.’
‘He get hit?’
‘No. He had the three years there and was never wounded. He doesn’t talk about it.’ She shrugged. ‘He’s suffered a bit since too. More lately.’
‘Most blokes don’t, y’know, talk about it. But if he’s sick, he could see the local Bones. Dr King.’
‘He won’t go.’
‘The doc might talk to you, though. He’s a good man, King. A returned serviceman himself.’
She smiled. ‘I know Dr King. He delivered me.’ There was a brief pause, and Kate wondered when the captain would get to the point.
‘Any more problems with Canali, Mrs Dowd?’
‘No.’
‘Good. Which reminds me, I got a couple of letters for your blokes.’ He extracted two small envelopes from his inside pocket. They were stampless but postmarked Croce Rossa, the letters arched around the simple red cross. Kate imagined the families handing them over on the other side of the world, hoping they would get through.
‘I need to ask you, Captain. I think we owe you their wages? The POWs, I mean? I’ve been looking at our pay ledger.’
‘You do, yes.’ He produced a leather-bound notebook. ‘Going back, it looks like here. Four weeks at £1 each is what you should settle up. In due course.’
Kate felt her heart sink; more money. ‘We’ll do that.’
The captain cleared his throat. ‘Mrs Dowd, I’ve come to ask a favour. We need to bring all the POWs in the district together for a talk. Could we do it on Amiens? Say a week Saturday? The 24th, in the afternoon?’ He looked away from her to the horizon.
Kate was curious. ‘You don’t want to do this at the Control Centre in town?’
‘There’d be no danger, of course, to you. You know yourself these men are generally solid types. They just want the war to be over so they can go home,’ he said, sipping his tea. ‘I only ask you because of your father’s support for the Scheme. It would be the POWs, me and Corporal Boyle. No other Army staff.’
‘I can ask my father,’ Kate said. ‘He’ll want to know what you’re going to talk about though.’
‘Understandable,’ the captain said. ‘The thing is, it’s delicate.’
‘Delicate?’
‘I’m not saying it’s a military secret, but we’d not want it to get about. We’ve had a, er, a … fraternisation.’
‘Was she … hurt?’
‘Crikey, no,’ he said, then appeared to regret it. ‘The lady was …’
‘Willing?’
‘Yes.’
They sat in silence while Kate digested that. The bleating of hungry sheep filtered across as they walked the fence lines looking for food. She spoke slowly, thinking out loud. ‘You want to warn all the POWs against fraternisation. No graziers will want to hold that meeting in case people might think this fraternisation happened on their place. But you believe I would agree to it?’
He looked into his tea cup, embarrassed. ‘I knew you’d give me a fair hearing. You and your father,’ the captain said, looking away as he cleared his throat again. A tuft of hair he’d forgotten to smooth sat up at the crown of his head, pushed there by his hatband and his sweat.
‘You can have the meeting here, Captain. Of course. But I wonder if you can do me a favour in return.’ She tried to breathe evenly, not give away her fear, as the idea took shape in her head.
‘Such as?’
‘Amiens has four hundred head of beef cattle. I would like to sell some – all – to the Army. For meat.’
He put his tea cup down. ‘I can’t do that.’
‘Surely one good turn deserves another, Captain?’
‘I can’t do that, Mrs Dowd.’ He was apologetic. ‘That’s Procurement, not Control Centre. And they’d never take so few anyhow.’
‘It would mean everything to us. Will you try? Please?’
He opened his mouth to say something and then shut it again. He stood up and put his hat on. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Dowd. I’m grateful, you understand, but the cattle?’ He shook his head.
Kate stood and watched him go across the lawn, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket as he went to the Army staff car. Once the vehicle dipped down into the gully, she put the tea things onto the tray but her hands were shaking. She’d failed.
Late that afternoon, she was relieved to get into the garden. Canali was already there, up on a ladder with his back to her, cutting dead vines away from the tank stand. He turned and waved his clippers at her and she smiled back. She was pulling on her gloves when she heard the phone ringing. It rarely rang. She ran into the kitchen, her plait banging against her back, and grabbed the black receiver off its cradle.
‘Mrs Dowd. Captain Rook.’ He didn’t sound pleased. ‘I will be able to do that, do what you asked. And we’ll do the gathering as agreed, Saturday week.’
‘Yes,’ she exhaled. ‘Yes. Thank you so much, Captain.’ But he’d hung up.
She smiled as she put the heavy receiver in it
s cradle. Then she pulled her gloves on and walked back into the garden, greeting Canali with a wide smile.
He stopped clipping and looked at her. ‘Orright, Signora?’ He gave her his half-smile and she realised she liked it. The smile changed his face, opened it. She went back to work and thought about the cattle. She wanted to tell Emma. She couldn’t ring. It was too risky; Addison might get to hear of it from the party line. Better to just get the cattle sold, get the cheque to Addison as early as she could in April, try to hold him off for that quarter. ‘You think much, Signora.’
‘I’m thinking about money. But at least I’ve sold our cattle.’ She stopped, worried she’d said too much.
‘Is difficult. This farm. All the farms.’
She had an odd sense she could trust him. ‘We have problems, with the money and the farm.’
‘Ah.’
‘And Dad, he bought a sapphire.’
‘S’fire? What is this?’ He bent down and gathered the clippings in his arms, carrying them to drop them over the fence.
‘It’s a precious stone, like a diamond.’
‘He buy for you?’ He clipped again, carefully, methodically.
‘Sort of. But he … he borrowed money to buy it.’
‘Ah,’ he said again. ‘Now you must sell her.’
‘Yes. But we can’t find it. He’s lost it.’
He stopped and looked at her, clippers in hand. ‘Lost her?’
She nodded. ‘I search and search. It’s small, about the size of a tiny egg. Yellowy. Smooth. But at least now I’ve sold the cattle.’ She was repeating herself.
‘Your papà. He know this? You sell this cattle?’
There were no flies on Canali; he knew her father might object. ‘Not yet. I need the right time to tell Dad. In case he …’ She struggled to find the words.
‘She is still good, the family. Good also the bad, the two. Papà, mamme, bambini.’
‘You must miss your family.’
Canali nodded slowly. ‘Si. Mio papà now alone. Not my brother … He … He is gone perhaps.’ He looked away.