Return to the High Country

by Tony Parsons

  The Glen Morrison property had been acquired not long before Andrew MacLeod’s death. It was on the other side of the road from Poitrel and its front paddocks faced the road from Inverlochy to Poitrel and Strath Fillan. It was a sweeping property of over 4000 acres which ranged from a fairly steep back end through undulating hills to flatter and heavier black-soil country. David had cut off 220 acres of the steepest country for sale to his friend Sergeant Lew Hooper so that the policeman could indulge his lifelong dream of breeding thoroughbreds. Lew Hooper was a disciple of Wilf White who had bred some great thoroughbreds on Poitrel before he sold the property to the MacLeods. The lower, heavier country of Glen Morrison was unsuitable for horse breeding because it spread hoofs, but the upper section was almost ideal for the purpose. Hooper planned to build a house and horse buildings not far up from the main road. David reckoned it was a good investment having Lew Hooper there as he was the right man to keep an eye on both Poitrel and Glen Morrison.

  The acquisition of this property was regarded by David as a very important step in his plans to build a group of properties for the family he hoped to have. Glen Morrison was to be the main base of the Hereford and merino studs he planned for the future. It would also be used for topping off drafts of his Queensland cattle. Oats grew well on the flatter country and he would put down a fair area of lucerne. David had approached Kate Gilmour, his aunt, to manage the property. Anne’s sister Kate had been a theatre sister before she came to live at High Peaks and proved herself an asset on the property, spirited and hard-working.

  The Glen Morrison homestead was a charming old home with a wide verandah on the front of the house and down one side. David had had it repainted and made some alterations when Kate had said she proposed to live there. The rooms were large and the ceilings high, and the house was always scented with the flowers Kate had picked.

  ‘I thought you’d want to keep on living with Jean at Poitrel. Won’t she be lonely on her own? Won’t you?’ David quizzed Kate when he put the proposition to her.

  ‘I shall be too busy to be lonely, David. The truth is that I think I am a wee bit superfluous at Poitrel.’

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’ David asked.

  ‘I’m getting in the road, David. Jean has a suitor,’ Kate said, and winked.

  ‘I thought she hated men – that she went to Poitrel to get away from men. Jean told me she had had enough the first time,’ David said.

  Kate sighed. ‘That’s all very fine until next time. Women might say they hate men but there’s always a man they don’t hate. Women are supreme optimists, David. They want to be loved and always believe the next man will be the one. Jean is a very sweet person. She is one of the sweetest-natured women you will ever find. I reckon I’ll just give her a bit of elbow room. It’s not that I’ll be far away, and you’re there quite often.’

  As David, Catriona and Anne drove up to the Glen Morrison gate they saw Sergeant Hooper hard at work digging post-holes for the entrance to his new property. The big man was sweating freely as he shovelled out earth from one of the large holes. Two massive gateposts and their strainers were lying close by. The back of the Sergeant’s Holden utility was full of assorted gear, including a new Stihl chainsaw.

  ‘My day off,’ he said, as the High Peaks trio got out of their utility and walked over to him. ‘Reckoned I’d better make a start. I’ll try and do a bit every chance I get. Do some internal fencing next so I can kick off with a mare or two. How’s things, anyway?’

  ‘Life’s been a bit bleak since the funeral, Sergeant,’ David answered. ‘We’re only just getting back into the swing of things. We’re going to see Kate, and then Jean.’

  Hooper screwed up his eyes and pointed towards the Glen Morrison homestead. ‘Kate told me she had a shed to clean out. Reckoned it hadn’t been cleaned out for God knows how long. She’s a goer, that Kate. She tells me you’ve given her the job of managing Glen Morrison.’

  David nodded. ‘I have big plans for Glen Morrison. Look, Sergeant, I’ll talk to Wilf White and see if he’d be agreeable to you taking over some of those brood mares he left with us. He’d know which ones would suit you best. It would save you a fair bit of money, Sergeant.’

  ‘That’s damned decent of you, David. Can’t you use them?’

  ‘We’ve mated them to stockhorse sires but there are quite a number of them, some now getting old. I wouldn’t let them go without Wilf’s say-so, because it was a condition of our purchase of Poitrel that the horses remain with us while they lived. But I should think Wilf might be pleased to know some of the mares were going to be used for breeding thoroughbreds.’

  Hooper scratched the back of his neck and reddened slightly. ‘Well, er, that would be a big help. You’ve already helped so much I feel damned embarrassed to accept any more. I’m afraid I can’t do anything in return.’

  ‘Don’t feel you have to, Sergeant. There’s more to life than money. One day we may need your help. Kate, being a neighbour, could need it any old time. Personally, I wish you were living here right now. I’ll be very relieved to have you here,’ David said.

  ‘The missus and I thought we might put a caravan out here and stay overnight now and again. By the way, I wish you’d all call me Lew,’ Hooper said.

  ‘Be pleased to, Lew. What does Mrs Hooper think of all this?’ David asked, and pointed up the slope.

  ‘Paula is pleased as punch. She was a rider too, David. Not had much chance with me being moved around. We always talked about having a small place and some horses. Paula used to come with me when I went out to Wilf’s. The old bugger used to load us up with vegetables and cream. Er … excuse me, ladies.’

  ‘That’s all right, Lew. I’ve heard the word before,’ Anne said, and smiled.

  ‘And I’ve heard my father use far worse, Lew,’ Catriona added.

  Hooper looked embarrassed again. The MacLeods were so damned decent. A lot of people had no time for coppers, often regarded as a necessary evil. He reckoned David MacLeod had the makings of a great man. Sure, he’d proven himself to be a great dog and horse man already, but he was going to do bigger things one day. And wasn’t Catriona a great-looking young woman.

  ‘If there is any way I can help you, just ask,’ Hooper said.

  ‘We might just do that,’ David said. ‘But for now we’ll leave you to your post-holes, Lew. I’ll talk to Wilf about the mares and get back to you.’

  They climbed into the utility and drove back to the gate of Glen Morrison. ‘I don’t think Sergeant Hooper can believe his luck,’ Anne said. ‘I doubt anyone has ever given him much in his career as a police officer. He’s such an intimidating man people would find it hard to get close to him.’

  ‘You are probably right, Mum. I think he’s a good man. He’ll make a very good neighbour.’

  They found Kate where Hooper had said she would be – in the middle of a large multi-purpose shed, her clothes covered in dust. There were piles of assorted rubbish outside the shed and, inside, other piles which suggested some degree of usefulness. The shed’s interior looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned out since Adam was a boy. Kate’s background as a theatre sister meant that she detested mess and disorder, but this was a herculean task.

  Kate straightened up and supported her back as the High Peaks trio came into the shed. ‘Whew, this is some job,’ she said.

  ‘Kate, you don’t have to do this. It’s too big a job for you,’ David told her.

  ‘If I don’t do it, who will? Besides, I’ve discovered some really useful things here. There’s rolls of wire, drench guns, and even an electric motor. I’ll toss out all the useless stuff and put everything else in some kind of order. There are tools galore and a big box of nails – not to mention the countless horseshoes. It’s too good a shed to be cluttered up like it is. How are you, Catriona?’ she added.

  ‘Very well, thank you, Kate,’ Catriona answered with a smile. She had once been rather intimidated by Kate.

  ‘You certainly look ver
y well,’ Kate said, and Catriona blushed slightly. ‘Which is more than I do right now. I suppose you’d like some arvo tea?’

  ‘We’ve brought it with us, Kate,’ Anne said.

  ‘Thank goodness. I haven’t done much cooking since I moved in. Gee, I hate mess. What’s the point of having things you can’t find?’

  ‘I’ll come over tomorrow and give you a hand, Kate,’ David said. ‘There are some improvements I want to talk over with you. I also want to have a look at the paddocks.’

  Glen Morrison had been destocked for some time. David could have purchased the sheep and cattle that had been running on the place when he took it over, but declined the offer. The property had been grassing up for some months and David reckoned the spell would have done the country a power of good. What he wanted to do now was see Angus Campbell and find out if he would sell him some Hereford cattle to kick off the stud David planned. He also wanted to purchase a stud ewe flock, as soon as he could locate the right sheep, to be pastured on Glen Morrison with the Herefords.

  Poitrel was about seven miles’ drive from High Peaks. As it adjoined High Peaks, most of Poitrel was similar country except for one great valley, which was like a massive amphitheatre. This was where Wilf White had grazed his brood mares and, in his younger years, where he had grown lucerne. The valley had been resown to lucerne very soon after the MacLeods acquired the property.

  The Poitrel homestead was a large, rambling timber construction with a galvanised iron roof that was painted green, while the rest of the house was painted white. It was surrounded on three sides by large verandahs – one at the front and back, and the third verandah facing the vegie patch. There was a large meat room under an old, massive fig tree. Fig trees were atypical of the area but this particular tree had grown to heroic proportions and provided coolness on even the hottest of days. The meat room was equipped with a large wooden chopping block of apple gum. It was here, too, that the milk was separated.

  The homestead was surrounded on three sides by lawn and shrubs, all enclosed by a six-foot fence erected to keep out grazing animals and the multifarious species of poultry that ranged the property. A second six-foot fence enclosed the extensive vegie patch, which you could walk straight into from the verandah. Wilf White had devised an ingenious system of watering sweet corn and vine crops by diverting water from a stream, blocked by a single sheet of galvanised iron. When the iron was removed the water spread out over the vine patch and provided a solid watering.

  Beyond the homestead were the stables, feed sheds and then, a little further away, the sheep yards and an old shearing shed, which was seldom used these days. The sheep yards were new and had replaced the old yards that had been there when the MacLeods purchased Poitrel. As Kate said, the stables laughed at the wool shed and yards, which clearly indicated where Wilf White’s preference lay.

  Poitrel was a merino wether property, although it also ran some Hereford breeders. When the MacLeods bought Poitrel, Wilf White tossed the cattle into the bargain. These were a very mixed lot, which David gradually culled out, but initially they had been thankful to have the cattle because anything that turned in money wasn’t to be sneezed at.

  The front gate into Poitrel very nearly faced the front gate into Glen Morrison on the other side of the road. Its closeness to Poitrel had been a major factor in the MacLeods’ decision to acquire it. While not as spectacular as High Peaks or Poitrel, Glen Morrison was a much better property because, except for the 200-odd acres David had cut off for Lew Hooper’s thoroughbred stud, it was virtually all bottom or cultivable land.

  They drove from Glen Morrison to Poitrel, to find Jean, bucket in hand, feeding the large poultry population. Despite the inroads made by foxes, the poultry numbers never seemed to suffer. Hens sat in peculiar places and brought out large clutches of chickens.

  Like Kate, Jean Courteney was a nursing sister. Jean had come to live at Poitrel with Kate after she divorced her husband. Anne found her a singularly tranquil woman, nothing seemed to bother her. Jean and Kate had trained together in Sydney and got on extremely well. Jean had married, while Kate’s one attempt at romance had been a total failure. Jean’s marriage foundered on alcohol and abuse, while Kate had journeyed hither and thither in Australia and overseas before deciding that High Peaks might give her what she was seeking. If Anne had not married Andrew MacLeod, Kate would have snapped him up quick sticks.

  Jean’s husband had been a presentable fellow when not drinking but eventually Jean decided she could take no more of his criticism and abuse. She left Sydney for the nursing position in Merriwa and for years didn’t look at another man, though she had the highest respect for Andrew and David MacLeod. Jean simply loved to potter about the animals and poultry. As soon as she arrived home from being on duty at the hospital, she would change from her uniform to jeans or shorts and poke off to feed and water calves or lambs or chickens or turkeys or whatever there was that needed attention. Any unusual noise would send her outside and armed with a .410 searching for snake or goanna.

  Years later, as he looked back at the way things had developed, David knew that he could not have had two more devoted or diligent people, male or female, to watch over Poitrel and Glen Morrison. Jean was also a very capable cook and David had never gone short of a feed any time he called at Poitrel. Kate was more rough and ready in the food line. She would come in a few minutes before lunch, throw a few ingredients together, and then be gone again. Jean made lovely cakes and biscuits and enjoyed it when David praised her cooking. The two women were a complete contrast, too, when it came to gardening. Kate would dig a bed for some vegetable or other and then leave it to Jean to plant and minister to the plants. Both women, though, were terrific when it came to looking after sick animals. Once, one of Wilf’s old mares ripped herself on wire, making a real mess of one side and shoulder. Kate, with her training as a theatre sister, really came into her own. With Jean as her assistant, she stitched and stitched and stitched until she had all the rips attended to. Then she dusted the wounds with antibiotic powder, gave the mare a feed of chaff and oats, washed her hands and was ready for the next job. No wonder David came to love his aunt. He actually loved both Kate and Jean, but he regarded Kate as a kind of second mother.

  ‘What’s this I hear about you having a new Mr Wonderful?’ David asked.

  Jean was a mite too old to blush, and in fact she took David’s question in her stride.

  ‘I don’t know that Julian is any Mr Wonderful, but I think he is a very nice man, and I would like to build a life with him. His name is Julian Miller. He hasn’t moved here because I felt he shouldn’t until I talked to you. I know very well what kind of principles you live by and that you might be affronted by me living with a man out of wedlock. It’s not that I am against marrying Julian, but I had such a bad run last time that I want to be sure this time. I could go and live with Julian but I love it here. Poitrel has been the best home I’ve ever had, with you people and the animals. I don’t want to leave, and Julian thinks enough of me to live here with me. I’d still help out if you needed me to at any time.’

  David looked at his mother and his wife, and Anne instinctively knew that he wanted her to answer for them. ‘I’m sure that Julian is a very nice man. You must continue to think of Poitrel as your home, Jean.’

  ‘Thank you, Anne. I wasn’t sure how you would regard such an arrangement. I would like the opportunity to live in partnership with a good man before I pass on.’

  ‘You’ve been holding out on us, Jean,’ David said severely.

  ‘Not really, David. I was going to say something months ago but there was all the excitement of the National and then the wedding and Andy’s death. I know what Andy meant to you all and I couldn’t worry you while you felt so down,’ Jean said apologetically.

  ‘David is only pulling your leg, Jean. We appreciate why you didn’t mention the matter. I must say I am dying to hear how you met this lovely man,’ Anne said.

  ‘Julian was pa
inting landscapes around Mudgee and he had an accident on the way to Merriwa. I nursed him at the hospital. That’s how it began. Julian came here and he loves this place as much as I do, but he told me he wouldn’t come to live with me here unless you agreed. I told him you were seven-feet high, as wide as a barn and ate artists for breakfast,’ Jean said, and winked at Catriona.

  ‘Has Kate met this chap?’ David asked.

  ‘She has. Kate thinks he’s a good man. Not, she told me, that you can judge a man on a couple of meetings. Kate has chosen to live at Glen Morrison to give us more space,’ Jean informed them.

  ‘Imagine that,’ David said, and tried to keep a straight face.

  ‘Kate didn’t say anything?’ Jean asked with raised eyebrows.

  ‘Kate was covered in dust and cleaning out a big shed filled with fifty years of everything,’ David answered. ‘Kate hasn’t got some fellow hidden away, has she?’

  ‘David!’ Anne remonstrated.

  ‘Well, for a confirmed man-hater you’ve surprised me, Jean. But women keep surprising me, so why shouldn’t you? Time to go, ladies. One shock for the day is enough for me.’

  ‘Can I kiss him, Catriona?’ Jean asked.

  ‘I’m sure David would love that. I’ve found that he likes to be kissed. Of course, it doesn’t go with his image; the big tough bushman and all that.’

  ‘Ha, Tim Sparkes was a big tough bushman and he told me not to let you go, Cat,’ David laughed.

  Anne and Catriona looked at each other. They hadn’t seen David this happy since Andrew was alive.

  Jean took his face between her hands and kissed him. ‘If I had had a son I would have wanted him to be exactly like you, David,’ Jean said.

  ‘Now you’ve done it, Jean,’ Anne said. ‘David will have a swollen head for weeks.’

  ‘It can’t be helped, Anne. I’ve been wanting to say it for years.’

  ‘I take it we will be invited to meet this paragon of manhood when he moves here?’ David asked.

  ‘Of course you will,’ Jean said.