by Tony Parsons
‘Happy here?’
‘Bloody oath. Learnt a lot, too,’ Greg said enthusiastically. ‘Been a second home for me.’
‘Okay, where do you want to go from here?’
‘Well, I don’t really want to leave, David. I’ve been offered other jobs but I don’t reckon I’d be any better off. You give me extra money when I do any crutching or shearing and then there’s the horses. You do want me to stay, don’t you, David?’
‘Of course I want you to stay, Greg. The thing is that we’ve just bought Strath Fillan. The sale is going through now. We’ve bought it on a walk-in-walk-out basis so we keep all the stock. If you’re feeling up to it, I’d like you to have the job of looking after Strath Fillan, Greg. I’ll make you the manager, which would mean you’ll need to live there. I guess it also means that you and Liz can get married as soon as you like – seems no point to delay it any longer. And there’s a pretty comfortable house on the property.’
‘Crikey. I don’t know what to say, David,’ Greg said warmly.
David eased his back against a wool bale. ‘I’ve a notion to send all but the working horses up to Strath Fillan and breed the foals there. I also have a notion to maybe stand Western Star, that chestnut colt from Ajana, at stud. Of course, we’d have to race him first. If he won well, we’d pull him out and stand him. With sisters like Starana and Davana, he ought to pull in a lot of mares. Think you could handle that?’
‘I reckon I could. David, would it mean that Liz and I could still go campdrafting?’
‘You might not be able to attend as many campdrafts, Greg. There is always a price to responsibility. Of course, you don’t have to take this job – you could stay here at High Peaks and go on just as you’re doing. I could send Kate to Strath Fillan and Shaun could take over Glen Morrison or vice versa. I’d rather he stay where he is looking after the stud cattle and I’ll have stud sheep there before long. Campdrafting is all right, Greg, but you’ve got to think of your future. You only get a win in your turn at that game because there are so many drafting these days. I’ve had to curtail my activities in that area. How many drafts have you seen me at lately? Or trials either, for that matter. The local trial is about my limit now. A fellow’s family must come first, Greg,’ David said.
Greg considered carefully all David was saying. ‘I’d like to take you up on your offer but can I ring Liz first? If I say yes without asking her I reckon that would be a pretty bad way to start a marriage,’ Greg said.
‘It certainly would. Of course you can ring her. Do it now if you like. There’ll be an increase in your wages too, Greg.’
They walked up the slope to the house and David waited with his mother while Greg rang Liz. His face was wreathed in a broad smile when he came out of Anne’s office.
‘What did Liz say, Greg?’ David asked.
‘First she screamed, and then she said, “Yes, yes, yes. Take it!” Then she said if she were here, she would kiss you,’ Greg said, grinning.
David put out his hand. ‘Well done, Greg. You’ve worked hard here and you’ve done a good job for us. You’ve earnt this promotion. Now it’s up to you. You know me. If you let me down, I’ll come down on you like a ton of bricks. But I’m sure you won’t disappoint me.’
‘I won’t, David. This is the opportunity I’ve been after – it’s just meant for me. Liz is really excited about it,’ Greg said.
‘Good. I’ll take you down there next time I go. I’d say take Liz with you next weekend but I don’t like intruding on Troy and his family too much. They’ve got big problems, Greg. Troy has cancer, and Walter has an advanced form of Parkinson’s disease. Troy wanted a quick sale and preferred it was with someone he knew. That’s about the size of it, Greg.’
‘Gee, that’s bad luck. Dad told me that Troy Hamilton was a pretty tough fellow … a commando or something.’
‘That’s right, Greg. It’s a bad show. Meanwhile, we’ve got a lot of work to do. You had better go down to Poitrel. That new lot of wethers is due to arrive after lunch. There’s some crutchings you can press while you’re waiting. Better take some lunch with you, just in case Jean’s on duty.’
‘So that’s that,’ Anne said, joining David as Greg went to his cottage to make up some lunch.
‘That’s that,’ David agreed.
‘Five properties. When I came here if someone had said to Andy that one day the MacLeods would own High Peaks, Poitrel and Strath Fillan, not to mention Glen Morrison and Aberfeldy, he would not have believed it. He hoped we might acquire Poitrel but that was the limit of his thinking,’ Anne said.
‘Dad started it all off, Mum. It was the way Dad and his mother treated Wilf that put Poitrel in our hands and it was Dad’s friendship with Tim Sparkes that put Aberfeldy in mine.’
Anne smiled at her son’s wisdom – she knew he was right.
‘I’ve got to get going, Mum,’ David said, hurrying off. But a few minutes later he was back again.
‘What is it, David?’ Anne asked.
‘It’s Nap. He’s dead. He was lying with his head pointed up here and I thought he was asleep,’ said David, white-faced.
‘Oh, David,’ was all Anne could manage, but there was a wealth of meaning in her words. She knew full well what Nap meant to her son. Of all the dogs David had owned and handled, none meant more to him than Nap. Not even Clancy, who had won the National. ‘He was very old, and very tired lately.’
‘It doesn’t make losing him any easier, Mum. I doubt I’ll ever have a dog like him again. I know Clancy won the National and he’s a brilliant dog, but Nap had an extra dimension to him.
‘I’ll ring Kate, and Bruce McClymont – asks about him every time he rings,’ David said, and went out again.
Nap had been growing weaker for months and although he dragged himself after David when he took the other dogs for their runs, it was clearly an effort. Only his heart kept him going. Catriona, Anne and Kate all fed him titbits and gave him eggs but sixteen was a good age for a dog, even for a kelpie. David had been going to have him put to sleep but kept deferring it.
Belle had gone before Nap and was buried with a row of other MacLeod dogs, but David decided to bury Nap beside his kennel, and Kate made a plaque and inscribed on it the following words: MacLeods’ Nap. He was more human than dog.
Kate rang the local paper and Bruce McClymont rang just about everywhere. The following article appeared shortly after.
Canine Hero Dies, Aged 16
Nap, one of the kelpie stars of the film The Call of the High Country, died recently at High Peaks, Merriwa, NSW. The red-and-tan kelpie, considered by his owner, David MacLeod, to be the greatest of all the great MacLeod kelpies, made national news on two occasions. On the first Nap carried a message across miles of rough mountain country with the news that the part-owner of the property had broken a leg.
The kelpie came to the rescue a second time when he shepherded a small mob of sheep into a cave and saved them from a bushfire. No greater loyalty to man was displayed by any other dog.
This generous tribute to a dog could probably be described as an epitaph for all of the faithful, hardworking stock dogs who did not make the national news.
David had dogs that were the sons and daughters of Nap, and Angus Campbell had Nap’s blood in his border collies. But no other dog occupied Nap’s kennel in David MacLeod’s lifetime. The old dog had meant more to him than he could ever put into words. He could talk to Nap and know that the dog understood pretty well what he said. A lot of people wouldn’t believe that about a dog, but they would be people who didn’t really understand dogs. David knew that occasionally, very occasionally, a dog would come along that was super-intelligent. It was the same with dogs as with humans. There are the Michelangelos, the Galileos and the Einsteins and there are their canine equivalents. Nap had been one of those equivalents.
Nap’s passing was the prelude to three other deaths. Anne’s father died in April, and her mother in October. That she hadn’t seen more of her parents in recen
t years caused Anne much guilt. They had come to High Peaks once or twice a year but her father, particularly, felt out of his element in the bush. He liked to watch league football and to fish. Anne regretted that David had not seen more of her parents but he was just as much out of his element where they lived – first in Sydney and then on the north coast of New South Wales – as Jack was in the bush.
A loss of a different kind occurred when Gertie Brooks rang Anne and told her that her brother had died that day. Wilf White held a very special place in the hearts of Anne, Kate and David, for Wilf had allowed them to purchase Poitrel on very generous terms, because of his respect for Andrew MacLeod.
David had a special reason for remembering Wilf White because, apart from selling his family Poitrel, he had given the MacLeods Ajana, a flying machine and a great brood mare. Wilf had lived on the successes of Starana and Davana, Ajana’s two great fillies. Gertie told them later that Wilf considered what these horses had achieved on the racetrack justified the money he had invested in thoroughbreds. David thought of Wilf with deep affection. ‘He was a great gentleman, Mum. Some people thought he was a bit funny but this family owes Wilf White a damn lot.’
It was a solemn group that drove to Coffs Harbour for Wilf White’s funeral. Anne, Kate, David and Catriona sat with Gertie in the front pew of the church. David gave the eulogy and though he spoke in a church with a view of the Pacific, his memory of Wilf White was of the old chap at Poitrel, feeding his beloved horses.
Later, at the wake, David took Gertie by the arm. ‘I … we will never forget Wilf, Gertie.’
She nodded, and rested her hand on his arm. ‘Some will, but I believe you won’t, David.’
But Wilf White’s death removed another link with the past. Anne told David that death came to everyone – that was why a person should make the best of things in the time one had. Not, she assured her son, that he wasn’t doing that.
David was indeed very busy. With Greg Robertson installed on Strath Fillan, David did not have him to fall back on for jobs at High Peaks. He had transferred most of the breeding horses to Strath Fillan, leaving only their own working horses and Ajana and Starana on High Peaks. While he had competent people on the other four properties, he was now back to looking after High Peaks on his own. He needed another Greg Robertson, but there was nobody like Greg to be had.
Catriona was secretly pleased with this situation because it meant that David was home more often and that she could go mustering with him. Anne was relinquishing her role as keeper of the books to Catriona, who had mastered the computer she had installed and was putting all their financial records on disc. At first sceptical, David was convinced when Catriona was able to retrieve masses of information at the touch of a key. Keeping the books for one property was one thing; keeping a record of inputs and outputs for five properties was quite another. And if David acquired his merino breeding property, this would add to the financial transactions.
‘I wish the children would grow up faster, Mum,’ he said to his mother. She was working in her beloved garden and David was standing beside her.
‘You shouldn’t,’ she answered.
‘Shouldn’t what?’ he asked.
‘Shouldn’t wish for that,’ she said. ‘Childhood is such a wonderful time. Children grow up fast enough as it is. Then the problems arrive. You should enjoy your children. I certainly enjoyed your childhood. If I hadn’t had you I would have missed an awful lot. I used to worry about you when you were away on your ponies because if anything had happened to you, I knew I couldn’t have another child.’
‘Sorry, Mum, to put you through that grief,’ he said, coyly.
‘You aren’t at all, David. You would do it all over again no matter how much I worried. You were very much a boy where horses were concerned. Your father aided and abetted you. I know he did. Well, he got what he wanted – though he wanted two or three Davids and a couple of daughters as well.’
‘And what did you want, Mum?’ David asked.
‘I wanted to give Andy what he wanted, dear. I couldn’t, so we had to be content with you. You have a lovely family, David. Three is nice,’ Anne said.
‘Catriona would have had another baby if we hadn’t had Angus,’ he told her. ‘She made a deal with me. If she had a second son, that was it. If she had a second daughter, she would try once more for a boy.’
‘I know, David. Catriona told me. Your mother was right about Catriona, wasn’t she? I always knew she was the girl for you,’ Anne said.
‘Well, as I’ve said on more than one occasion, you were a pretty grouse mother. It was just that I had more things than girls on my mind in those days,’ he said.
‘You could have lost her, David,’ Anne said.
‘If she had been so easily put off, she wouldn’t have been the girl for me, Mum,’ he said, with the simple logic that was difficult to challenge.
‘To change the subject, I’m wondering if you would be up to camping out with us next weekend. Cat and I are taking the kids up to the hills for their first night out. Lottie is having the weekend off. I want to get the kids used to the bush. We’ll have a singsong. You could bring your guitar and play. Do you think you’re up to sleeping in a swag?’ he asked.
‘I’m not exactly geriatric, David,’ Anne said.
‘I realise that, but I don’t want you to come just to please the kids and me … not if it’s too much for you,’ he said. ‘I don’t expect you to go eel-bashing.’
‘And I wouldn’t be,’ Anne said with a laugh. ‘Are we riding?’
‘The kids and Catriona can ride. I’ll take the Fergy and the trailer with the gear. Think you could sit on the trailer?’
‘Now you’re putting me to the test, dear. I think I would prefer to ride than to be bounced around on the trailer. Have you thought about asking Kate? I fancy Kate might feel a wee bit left out of things, and it wouldn’t hurt to ask her. Of course, you should talk it over with Catriona,’ Anne said.
‘I will,’ David said. ‘It won’t be many years before Glen Morrison will be too much for Kate. That’s one of the reasons I need the children to grow up.’
‘You will be very disappointed if the children have other ideas,’ Anne said. ‘I’ve warned you before not to expect that your children will naturally want to stay on the land.’
Anne’s words would prove to be prophetic.
Chapter Six
Camping out was a new, exciting experience for the MacLeod children, and to camp out with Nanna and Auntie Kate as well as their parents was a real treat. It was an outing David had been promising them for some time. Up until now Angus had been considered too young to camp out, and he was the most excited of the three children.
David had pitched the tent and a large tarpaulin very close to the spot Andy had taken Anne for her first lunch with him all those years ago. It was adjacent to the creek where Andy, Anne and Kate had gone eel-bashing. It was a warm evening and the children, watched over by Anne, were allowed to paddle in the creek while David, Catriona and Kate set up camp and began preparing the meal.
The planning of David and Catriona’s family had all been so carefully done, Anne thought, as she watched the children squiggle their toes in the mud, squealing with delight. The three children were spaced out two years apart – seven, five and three. To look at Catriona one would never know that she had produced three children, Anne thought to herself, her figure was so youthful. Of course, Anne would never have guessed the lengths that Catriona had gone to to maintain her appearance in David’s absences.
With parents as handsome as David and Catriona the three children were all fine-looking, all dark-haired like their father. The two boys had grey eyes, while Moira’s eyes were chestnut brown. In nature, the children were all quite different.
Dougal was a very quiet boy, and nothing like David had been at the same age. At the age of seven David had been pony-mad, and was in the hills with his father at every opportunity, while Dougal was more often found buried in a b
ook or perhaps ensconced in Anne’s poultry shed examining the newly hatched chickens. A new litter of pups was a special delight and he would spend hours watching the pups playing and sucking at their mother’s teats. Anne, who was considered the oracle where children were concerned, described Dougal as ‘solemn’. The eldest child certainly took everything very seriously.
Dougal established very early on that both Ajana and Starana were especially receptive to titbits of bread and sugar. The little boy would tempt the horses with a piece of sugar and then wander down to their shelter shed. There he would sit down on bales of hay and Starana, in particular, would nuzzle up to him looking for more morsels. Although Dougal had his own pony, Starana had a special place in his heart, with her velvety soft muzzle and lovely eyes. His mother had told him that Starana won races but that she couldn’t have a foal. They had kept her at High Peaks because of old Mr White. He had owned Ajana and made a gift of the mare to David, and Starana was her daughter.
David had expected that Dougal would want to ride with him but if Dougal could get out of riding into the hills he would do so, and lose himself in a book instead. Likewise, at shearing and crutching time David expected that his son would be eager to help with yarding the sheep and penning up, but Dougal showed little interest. He spent a lot of time with Nanna and seemed more interested in how she made a cake than the activities down at the shed.
It was Anne who discovered how bright Dougal was. He had asked her a question about something and she had dug out a book that contained the answer to his question. She handed him the book and after he had looked at it for a few moments he handed it back to her.
‘Does that answer your question, Dougal?’ Anne asked.
‘Very well, Nanna,’ he said. He then proceeded to detail from memory what he had just read in the book.
Anne picked up the book and studied the page in question. Dougal had read off the three or four paragraphs almost word perfect. She tested him on another subject and again he repeated what he had just read. There was no doubt about it; the boy had a photographic memory.