*
They were woken the next morning by steam engines noisily shunting goods carriages in the rail yards adjacent to the station.. It was a clear, fine morning. At seven, the Goombungee bus arrived at The Sundowner exactly on schedule.
As soon as it pulled away Emma opened a brown paper bag containing their breakfast, a bottle of milk and fresh oranges she had bought at a corner shop near the hotel. Later, she took two clean white handkerchiefs from her bag and spread them out on her lap. She carefully put five two-shilling pieces in each hankie, folded them in at the corners, tied them, and gave the boys one each, with strict instructions to use the money only in an emergency.
‘This is it, miss,’ the bus driver called out when he stopped at an iron gate at the entrance to Hope Farm. Beside the gate was a wooden platform covered with milk churns. 'The farm itself is a mile or so down the driveway. The brothers never meet the bus. They expect everyone to find their own way in.’
Emma and the boys climbed out and stood, bags in hand, at the side of the narrow dirt road and watched the bus pull away. Already the sun was hot. Bruce swung open the gate and they started off down a wheel-rutted track leading into the property. It wound lazily through meadows and ploughed fields interspersed with patches of tall gums.
After half an hour, they topped a rise in the trail and saw Hope Farm nestled in a valley below them. It was much bigger than Emma had expected. The farmyard covered several acres and was enclosed by a post and rail fence. Inside the compound was a dairy and milking sheds, poultry houses, rows of pig pens, two big barns and several granaries and storage sheds. Emma thought how neat and organized everything looked.
Beyond the farmyard compound, on higher ground, stood a huge two-story red brick residence surrounded by a brick wall. Off to one side, a small lake shimmered in the morning sun. When Emma and the boys approached, a big lad wearing a grey shirt, grey shorts and black leather boots came out of the compound to greet them.
‘Hello,’ the youth said cheerfully. ‘I’m Strickland. You must be the McKennas. Brother Lucas told me to look out for you and take you up to the residence.’ He took a bag in each hand then turned and led the way.
They followed Strickland through the compound. It was a hive of activity. There were young boys everywhere, some working alone and some working in groups. All seemed to be working hard at their various chores and everyone wore the same grey uniform as Strickland. Emma noticed the boys were supervised by men wearing ankle-length brown cassocks and broad-brimmed hats. She took them to be Brothers of the Apostles.
At the residence, Strickland pulled hard on a chain hanging in the entranceway. A bell rang deep inside the building. After a few moments, a thin, middle-aged man in a brown cassock appeared at the doorway.
‘You may go now.’ The thin man dismissed Strickland without looking at him and the big youth turned on his heel and left. The man in the cassock bowed his head slightly toward Emma. ‘Good morning. I am Brother Lucas.’
‘Good morning. I’m Emma McKenna, and these are my brothers Bruce and Jack.’
Brother Lucas smiled benignly. ‘Please come in. I’ll take you to Brother Benjamin, our administrator.’
Emma and the boys fell in behind Brother Lucas and walked across a huge hall. Emma glanced around her. Tapestries depicting biblical scenes and other religious paraphernalia hung from the walls. A wide wooden staircase with a high banister led upstairs. Emma was impressed with the grandeur of it all. Beyond the hall, they followed Brother Lucas to an office at the end of a long corridor. He tapped softly on the door.
‘Enter,’ a voice called out from inside.
Brother Benjamin sat behind a cluttered desk. His round fleshy face beamed happily when Brother Lucas introduced him to Emma and the boys. He gestured to a long sofa against the office wall and they all sat down. Brother Lucas remained standing off to one side while Brother Benjamin rummaged amongst a pile of papers on his desk. He picked some letters from the pile and ran his eyes over them for a few moments.
‘Ah yes, Miss McKenna,’ Brother Benjamin said at last. ‘Mr Braithewaite in Augathella, detailed the unfortunate events which led up to the position your family finds itself in. May I just say, we at Hope Farm are happy to be able to assist in your time of need. No doubt Mr Braithewaite has made you aware of the total commitment of the Brothers of the Apostles to the building of sound minds and bodies of young men who, because of no fault of their own, find themselves deprived of an education and a normal family environment.’
‘Yes he has, Brother Benjamin,’ Emma said. ‘And we are very grateful to you.’
Brother Benjamin smiled. ‘Now, before you sign the boys over into our care, let me tell you something about what we provide here at Hope Farm and also the undertakings that we require from you in return. Over the years we have developed a self-sufficient and commercially viable agricultural operation. We believe fulfillment in life can only be achieved by adhering to a strict code of discipline, sacrifice, and unswerving faith in God.’ Brother Benjamin smiled again. ‘Now, the undertakings we require in return, Miss McKenna, are that the boys observe all the house rules and carry their fair share of the workload. We also require your acceptance that as long as they are here at Hope Farm, the Brothers of the Apostles have complete discretion in all matters relating to them.’
Emma glanced confidently at Bruce and Jack. ‘You can be sure my brothers will work hard and follow all the rules.’
‘Very well.’ Brother Benjamin reached into a desk drawer and took out a thick leather-bound journal. He held up a fountain pen. ‘If you’ll just sign here, Miss McKenna.’
‘Perhaps you would care for some tea while Brother Lucas takes the boys and their things upstairs?’ Brother Benjamin tugged on a bell tassel beside his desk as Emma signed her name in the book. ‘They are to share a dorm with other boys, including young Strickland, who I take it you have already met. He has been assigned to take your brothers under his wing until they are settled in.’
‘That’s very kind,’ Emma said
‘And they will be issued with uniforms straight away. We feel uniforms have a leveling effect amongst the boys. For that reason we ask that they do not retain any personal possessions which may advantage them in some way over the other boys. Do they have anything like that with them?’
Emma shook her head. ‘No. They have no wrist watches or fountain pens or anything like that.’
When the boys left with Brother Lucas, a lad of about thirteen entered the office carrying a tea tray. Over tea and buttered scones, Brother Benjamin told Emma more of the workings of Hope Farm.
‘We have around seventy-five boys here ranging in age from eight to almost sixteen,’ he explained. ‘And there are usually a dozen or so brothers at Hope Farm. There are three in permanent residence, myself, Brother Lucas and Brother Josef. The others are sent here for a year or two to assist us and gain experience. My function is to oversee the overall operation of the farm and the general welfare of the boys in our charge. Brother Lucas serves as my administrative assistant and Brother Josef is our farm manager.’
‘I noticed it was a boy who brought in the tea,’ Emma said. ‘Do they assist the ladies on your domestic staff?’
‘Oh, there are no ladies at Hope Farm, Miss McKenna.’
Emma looked surprised. ‘But who does the cooking and the cleaning?’
‘As I said earlier, we are entirely self-sufficient. The boys and the brothers attend to everything, from milking the cows and feeding the fowl, to the cooking, the cleaning, and even the laundry.’
‘It must be difficult for them without someone to darn, sew, or iron clothes.’
‘Sacrifices are character-building, Miss McKenna. Because of that, there are no motor vehicles at Hope Farm either. Our farm implements and wagons are all horse-drawn. And perhaps you may have noticed we have no electricity or telephone connected.’ Brother Benjamin smiled again. ‘But life here does have its compensations. All the boys have one afternoon a
week off when they can do whatever they wish. They can read, play games, or just do nothing at all. And you may have noticed our little lake outside. It makes an excellent swimming hole during the hot summer days’
When Brother Lucas returned to the office with Bruce and Jack they were both wearing the grey uniform of Hope Farm.
‘I thought I would take the boys over to Brother Josef at the farm,’ Brother Lucas said, a thin hand on each boy’s shoulder. ‘Perhaps Miss McKenna may like to say goodbye to them now?’
Emma looked at her brothers. In their uniforms it was difficult for even her to tell them apart. But characteristically, Jack was close to tears while Bruce was trying hard to look brave and unconcerned. Emma crossed the room and hugged them both tightly. She held Bruce just briefly, but Jack held on longer, and for a moment Emma felt his warm tears on her cheek. A second later they were gone.
*
The afternoon bus passed by Hope Farm just after one o’clock, shortly after a truck from the dairy in Toowoomba picked up the milk. Emma accepted a ride on the horse-drawn wagon which hauled the milk churns up to the gate each day. As the wagon passed one of the larger farm buildings she caught a glimpse of Bruce and Jack inside it. But when she strained to see, the door of the building closed, blocking them from view.
Emma decided to look around the shops in Toowoomba rather than spending any more time than she had to in the grubby hotel room. She walked the length of the main street twice before going back to The Sundowner. She met the publican’s wife on the stairs, carrying down bed linen.
‘Hello luv,’ said the woman with a friendly smile. ‘I was just going down to make a nice cup of tea. My husband always likes a cuppa before the late afternoon rush in the public bar. Come and join us if you like.’
Emma sat down on a stool in the kitchen while the publican’s wife made tea and buttered slices of currant bread. After a few moments, her husband came in, tousled-haired from an afternoon nap.
He looked surprised to see Emma, then he looked around the kitchen.
‘Where’s the lads then?’ he asked.
‘The young lady took them over to Hope Farm this morning,’ the publican’s wife said.
‘You mean the farm run by the brothers out near Goombungee?’
‘Yes.’ Emma said.
The publican’s eyes narrowed. ‘And you’re leaving them out there?’
‘Yes. I’m catching the morning train back to Charleville tomorrow.’
The publican and his wife exchanged a knowing glance. As Emma reached for a slice of buttered currant bread she didn’t see the apprehension on their faces.
CHAPTER TEN
Patrick Coltrane rose early and in rare good humor. Usually he ate breakfast with his wife and son at eight o’clock after bathing and shaving and, regardless of the temperature, dressing in a full suit of clothes. But this morning when he entered the dining room he found Beth only just beginning to lay the table. Sounds from the kitchen told him Laura and Mary were still preparing breakfast so he decided to take some air outside on the veranda.
It was a fine, sunny morning and with moisture still lingering in the air after the rains, the views from the veranda were exceptionally clear. Coltrane looked out over gently rolling pastures stretching in every direction to the distant horizons. How good the station looked, he thought, especially now, after the long drought had broken and the parched landscape had been transformed into a lush green land of milk and honey. It was indeed a property to be proud of.
The first Coltranes had come to the Warrego district as free settlers nearly a hundred years earlier. It was a harsh inhospitable land then, as large as the British Isles and uninhabited except for tribes of nomadic blacks. It was a wild, rugged country where only the strong and the doggedly determined could even hope to build a future. The Coltranes had brought sheep and cattle with them, and gradually, despite the hardships, the isolation, and sometimes hostile blacks, they claimed and tamed their own piece of the vast Warrego.
Patrick Coltrane knew his heritage had been hard-won. The Essex Downs he inherited had been carved out of the wilderness by the indomitable spirit of his forebears, resourceful and stubborn Anglo-Saxon squatters who refused to let anything stand in their way. And, with labor always scarce in the bush, they had largely done it alone.
In the early days, some squatters brought in laborers from Hong Kong and southern China to tend their flocks and herds. But the labor shortage was only one of many problems. Over time, the introduction of livestock to the Warrego caused the disappearance of the natural ground roots and traditional wildlife on which the nomadic blacks were entirely dependent. Eventually, when their search for food became all but impossible, the Aborigines began killing sheep and cattle and even the Chinese shepherds in order to survive.
The Coltranes responded to the slaughter by poisoning water holes used by the blacks and hunting down and shooting every Aboriginal man, woman and child they could find. When the blacks became too elusive for them, the Coltranes called in the dreaded Native Mounted Police, sadistic killers trained by the colonial government to track down and exterminate their own kind.
The few blacks that survived the genocide of the frontier days eventually became tame and utterly dependent on the squatters. Few white men regarded them as good station hands. White settlers believed they were the last of a prehistoric race which faced certain extinction. Since enactment of the Queensland Aboriginal Protection Act in 1897, most blacks were sent to reservations or missions. But with labor still scarce, many squatters kept Aborigines on their properties and fed and clothed them in return for such work as they felt they were capable of performing.
Coltrane watched a column of smoke rising up into the morning sky. It was coming from the Aboriginal camp beside the creek. His jaw tightened. Soon, he’d get rid of the blacks that remained on Essex Downs. He’d always disliked having them around anyway, especially the half-castes. They were the worst kind, almost white on the outside but still black as coal on the inside. The old belief that the Aboriginal race was doomed had proven wrong and Coltrane believed it was the white man’s own fault.
He thought that the worst mistake the early bush pioneers had made was allowing white station hands to breed with the blacks. It was the reason why do-gooders like Jack McKenna’s father had petitioned the authorities to have the Aboriginal Protector take young half-caste women and their near-white sucklings off Essex Downs in the old days. That petition had caused such an outcry that it had cost Coltrane’s father a certain seat in the Queensland government when the colony joined the new federation of Australian states in 1901. Even years later the whole affair had come back to haunt him with a shame and loathing for which he could never forgive the McKenna family.
Coltrane pondered the situation of the blacks on his station. They would have to go before long. Fortunately, he reasoned, things were changing in the outback and the Aborigines on Essex Downs had outlived their usefulness. With machinery now taking over so much manual work, and with improvements in transportation and communications, more white workers were becoming available in the bush.
The old ways were making way for the new. In 1922, soon after Cobb & Co stopped building stagecoaches in Charleville, a transportation company of a different kind was founded in the town calling itself Queensland and Northern Territory Aerial Services. A lot of the locals had laughed at the time but now Qantas aircraft, in spite of the Depression, were a common sight in the skies all over the country. A new era lay ahead for Queensland and Australia. And Coltrane knew that steady hands were needed at the helm in the nation’s capital, particularly during the current precarious state of Australia’s economic affairs.
Coltrane believed passionately that two of the strong hands in Canberra should be his own. He had lobbied long and hard for nomination as a Queensland senator. Now at last, he believed his time had come.
*
‘Breakfast is ready, sir,’
Beth’s soft voice drew Coltrane from his
thoughts and he quickly entered the house. Laura and Elliot were already seated when he took his place at the breakfast table.
‘Good morning,’ Coltrane said cheerfully. He paused, waiting until Beth had finished pouring his tea. ‘I was in Charleville yesterday attending to some important matters. As a result, I have a couple of announcements to make. The first concerns myself and the second concerns Elliot.’
Laura looked uninterested and continued buttering her toast. Elliot, suddenly attentive, looked up from his bacon and eggs.
‘It seems the financial support I pledged to the New Guard Movement has already begun to bear fruit,’ Coltrane said. He sipped his tea and smiled. ‘I told young Stephen Fairchild that in return for my assistance, I would expect a few words endorsing my nomination for a senate seat to be whispered into the right ears in Brisbane. As a man with direct connections to the upper echelons of the conservative establishment in this country, I knew he would be listened to. It seems he is a man of action. Yesterday I had lunch with our state member. He told me Fairchild had already made representations in Brisbane on my behalf and that I can expect a positive statement from the premier’s office very soon.’
‘That’s very nice for you, Patrick,’ Laura said dutifully.
‘That’s wonderful, Father,’ Elliot said without much enthusiasm. ‘Now what is it that concerns me?’
‘I’ve bought another property. I think the time has come for you to assume some responsibility, to start running your own operation.’
Elliot’s face broke into a wide grin. ‘How big is it?’ he asked.
‘Eight thousand acres.’
‘Where is it?’ Laura asked.
‘About fifty miles north.’
‘What’s it called?’ asked Elliot.
Coltrane glanced apprehensively at Laura. ‘It’s called Yallambee, ’ he said flatly.
Laura sprang to her feet and angrily threw her napkin down onto the table. ‘That’s despicable, Patrick. You’ve planned this all along, haven’t you? You’ve planned it since the day Jack came here begging for help and you turned him down.’
The Light Horseman's Daughter Page 7