by Tony Parsons
David nodded his understanding. ‘Could Tim show us around the place?’ he asked.
‘Of course he could. Would you like to go now?’
‘Yes, I want to be back home tonight. My wife is away in Sydney with her mother, and so there are chores waiting for me back there.’
Tim proved to be a very capable and informative guide. He was a mine of information about the various paddocks and the cattle in them. When they stopped at a gate Tim was out of the car like a shot and had the gate opened in the winking of an eye. Of course, he was fifteen and full of energy, as Moira reminded her father later.
There was not a fault with the property or the cattle, either. They were in just as good condition as Len Murray’s cattle next door. A lot of the cows were lying up and down the creek.
When they arrived back at the homestead Linda took them into the office. There, David saw with interest old ribbons behind glass that revealed that a Barden had once exhibited championship fleeces off the property.
‘That was Jack’s grandfather. He was a great sheepman by all accounts. Jack’s father had sheep too,’ Linda said.
‘The property must be capable of producing good wool. The sheep Len showed me had good wool and there’s hardly any difference in the country,’ David said.
‘A lot of our neighbours had sheep and some still do but many went in for cropping when these districts started to grow wheat in the fifties,’ Linda explained.
‘Would you mind calling Len for me? I’d like to speak to him about coming over here if that’s all right with you, Mrs Barden,’ David said.
‘Of course it is. Len and Beth are dear friends as well as being wonderful neighbours,’ she said.
She dialled the number and then handed the receiver to him. ‘It’s all yours, Mr MacLeod.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, and took the phone from her. ‘Len, David MacLeod here. Could you and Beth possibly come over here fairly soon? I’d like to talk to you and Mrs Barden together. You can? Thank you – I do appreciate this!’
David turned to Linda. ‘Maybe Tim could show me around the sheds while we’re waiting for Len and Beth?’
‘He’d like that. I’ll call him for you,’ Linda replied.
The tall, fair-haired boy listened to what his mother said and nodded.
‘I’d like to have a look at the old shearing shed first,’ David told him.
‘It hasn’t been used for shearing for ages,’ the boy warned.
‘I realise that, but I’d like to have a look at it anyway,’ David said.
‘Dad used it to store a lot of things, so it’s in a bit of a mess,’ Tim said as they walked down the track. He was conscious of Moira beside him but all his interest was focused on the shearing shed.
The sheep yards surrounding the woolshed had seen better days but the shed itself was substantially sound. It had originally been a six-stand shed, which suggested that at one time the property had been much larger than it was now. Some of the internal pens were in disrepair but wouldn’t take much renovating. The wool room was full of items of station use, from fencing to drench. The wool press was an old Koertz, its red paint very faded. There was even an old wool book beneath a stack of weights.
David and Moira, trailed by Tim, walked outside where David had a longer look at the sheep yards. They weren’t worth repairing, as much of the timber in them was old and rotten. Some of the big posts were still solid, but really the whole lot needed pulling down to make way for a new set of yards. Conversely, the adjacent cattle yards were in A-one condition with a modern crush and even a set of scales, making it apparent where the late Jack Barden’s real interest lay.
‘That’s interesting,’ David said, and pointed towards the scales. ‘Did your father weigh his cattle before selling them?’
The boy nodded. ‘Dad sold some of his cattle off the place. He used the scales to weigh them and also for the steers he showed. We won a lot of steer awards.’
‘Did you now? Are you a cattleman like your father, Tim?’
‘I don’t mind sheep. I go over and help Mr Murray sometimes. It’s just that we haven’t had sheep here while I’ve been alive. Dad got rid of them all when he took over the place,’ Tim said.
‘What’s that shed there?’ David asked, and pointed off to their right.
‘It’s a hay shed. Dad used to buy hay when it was cheap. It’s about half-full right now.’
‘I see. What do you think about your mother selling the place, Tim?’
‘I don’t want to see it sold but we owe a fair bit of money and cattle aren’t much chop right now. It’s too much worry for Mum, and she’s working too hard. There’s five of us to rear, and Mum’s had to go back nursing at weekends,’ Tim said.
‘I can see you lot have had it tough,’ David said sympathetically.
‘We’ve had a bit of bad luck all right, but that’ll change, Mr MacLeod. I sure will be sad to leave this place, but one day I’ll buy another place of my own,’ Tim added.
Tim Barden impressed David considerably. He was a very level-headed boy who seemed to have genuine concern for his mother. Boys like Tim Barden didn’t grow on trees. A glimmer of an idea began to form in David’s brain.
‘Ah well, this looks like Len and Beth,’ David said, and pointed to where a green car had just rounded the hill in front of the house.
‘Yes, that’s their car – a green Holden,’ Tim confirmed.
They met up again in the big lounge room where the children were hustled outside in Kitty’s care, the door shut behind them.
‘Thanks for coming at such short notice, Len and Beth,’ David began. ‘I wanted to talk to you in company with Mrs Barden because the business in hand involves the three of you.
‘First things first,’ David said, and smiled. ‘I’m prepared to purchase both properties but the purchase is contingent on me getting both of them. If for some reason one party pulls out, the sale is off. The Molonga sale has to be through Elders but as you, Mrs Barden, hadn’t put Wirrewarra on the market, it can be a private sale and there won’t be any commission. I’ll pay the same price per acre for Wirrewarra as for Molonga.
David could have negotiated a lower price for Wirrewarra by arguing that he’d have to put in a new set of sheep yards, but he wasn’t the kind of man to take advantage of a widow with five children.
‘Len, I’d like to purchase all your ewes. I don’t have many commercial ewes and if I don’t buy them from you, I’ll have to buy them elsewhere. There won’t be enough to stock both places but they’ll be a good start. There’s a lot of years of breeding behind them and I’d be foolish to let them go,’ David said.
‘Well, I reckon we can come to the party on the sheep,’ Len said.
David nodded. ‘Great stuff. Now as regards your cattle, Mrs Barden, I’m not sure which is the best avenue for their disposal. The way cattle prices are right now you won’t get top value for them. Maybe Len here could advise you how best to sell them. Don’t try and sell them until we finalise the purchase of the properties. We’ll get the bank out of your hair and then worry about selling your cattle.’
David paused for a moment and looked at the boy sitting next to his mother. ‘I’d like to put a proposition to you, Mrs Barden. It seems to me that Tim here and his brothers and sisters ought to be out in the bush. They like ponies and I reckon Tim is a really handy fellow on the place. I’m prepared to let you stay here free of rent. I won’t need this house as I’ll have the Molonga homestead. I’m also prepared to pay Tim something to keep an eye on things for the time being. I don’t know who will be coming to Molonga but even with a full-time manager there’ll be times when he’ll need a hand.’
Linda Barden was speechless, so David continued. ‘Tim, you’re a fine boy with your head screwed on tightly, and you know a lot about the land. Your mother says she wants you to do a course in something. You do that and when you’re through, if you still want to stay on the land, I’ll give you a job. Maybe one day you could be ba
ck here managing both places. How does that appeal to you?’
By the time David had finished talking, Linda Barden’s eyes had filled with tears. Moira, sitting beside her father, felt a flush of love and pride for him.
‘The bottom line is that you won’t have to worry about getting out of here if you don’t want to, and we will try to get you the best possible price for your cattle. If you invest your money wisely, you should have enough to live quite comfortably,’ David said.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ Linda Barden began. ‘I never expected anything like this.’
‘You could put the kettle on and we’ll have a cup o’ tea,’ Len Murray suggested.
‘Len,’ Beth scolded. ‘It’s lunchtime.’
‘Oh dear, so it is. I was going to put on a nice lunch. Would cold meat and salad be all right, Mr MacLeod?’ Linda asked.
‘Anything would be all right, Mrs Barden,’ David said with a smile.
‘I’ll give you a hand, Linda,’ Beth suggested.
Linda was still overwhelmed. ‘Len, I think I should be passing out drinks all round but it seems too early for that. My mind is in a whirl. I had resigned myself to leaving here and the children wanted to keep their ponies. Tim, it looks as if your future is assured one way or the other. Oh, I don’t know what to say.’
She went out dabbing at her eyes and Tim followed her.
‘That’s a very generous offer, David,’ Len Murray said. ‘And here’s my hand on the deal.’
‘Maybe you could look after things this end. There’ll be no hurry for you to get out even after the sale goes through. Take all the time you need. It sometimes takes a while to find what you want. I’ll talk to you more about the sheep a bit later down the track,’ David said.
Murray nodded. ‘I’ll look after the sheep until you’re ready to take over. No problem there.’
After lunch David and Len walked up the road to have a look at the boundary fence between the two properties. ‘As the crow flies the two houses are not much more than a mile apart, but it’s about five miles around by road,’ Murray explained.
‘What I’m thinking is that I’ll put in three or four grids and gates so I can move stock easily through both places. I’ll get a quote on gravelling a track direct from here to your house. It might come in handy,’ David said.
‘That’s a good idea if it doesn’t cost too much,’ Murray agreed.
‘It would save a bit of time, especially at shearing and crutching. I’ll have to put in a new set of yards to use the shed here. It might be easier to put all the sheep through Molonga shed … for the time being, anyway. It wouldn’t be much longer to take them there. Plenty of time for that later. I won’t have sheep here for a while.’
After Len and Beth left, Linda and Moira were together in the kitchen. Linda turned to Moira and smiled. ‘Your father is really something. If I were your mother I’d keep every female well away from him or never let him out of my sight.’
‘I doubt Dad has ever looked at another woman, Linda. Mum said she couldn’t get him to look at her for a long while – although I think he looked all right, but had other things on his mind. Dad is a wonderful man but he can be tough as iron when he has to be,’ Moira said.
‘I sensed that about him,’ Linda agreed. ‘Your mother is very fortunate to have him for a husband.’
‘I think I’m very fortunate to have him for my father,’ Moira said, and laughed. ‘We’re good mates as well as being father and daughter. My oldest brother is away at university studying vet science and there’s some doubt about whether or not he’ll return to the property, so I’m more or less taking his place. I have a younger brother too, but he’s still at school. Dad wanted plenty of sons because he reckoned daughters would marry and leave him.’
‘Which they do … mostly,’ Linda said, and laughed. ‘When Jack was killed I didn’t think I’d ever be able to look at another man. Not that he was a perfect husband or lover. Jack had a lot of faults, and you wonder whether it’s worth what you go through. Then I see someone like your father and I know if I could find someone like him I’d probably try again. But I doubt there are many men like your father. He’s handsome, certainly, but he’s a good, decent man, as well.’
Moira had never considered her father from the point of view of his attractiveness to women. The hair at his temples was becoming flecked with silver, but her father was still a great-looking man – a big man in good shape, with not an ounce of fat on him. But a man of his age being attractive to women, that was a new thought. He was not yet fifty and didn’t look his age.
Linda Barden kissed David goodbye and thanked him for his extraordinary generosity. ‘You’ve made Tim so happy,’ she said. ‘He’s a very good boy. He has been a great help to me since Jack was killed. It will mean the world to him not to have to leave Wirrewarra, and to know that he will always have a place on the land after his studies.’
‘Tim is the kind of boy the land needs, Mrs Barden,’ David said.
‘I wish you would call me Linda,’ she said.
‘If the sale goes through it’s a deal,’ he said.
Then he and Moira left Wirrewarra and headed back home. Len Murray was to ring Elders and tell Joe Morton that the sale had been made and that David would ring him that night.
‘I think you made a hit back there, Dad,’ Moira observed after they had been driving for perhaps half an hour.
‘If I did it was unintentional,’ David said.
‘I know that, Dad.’
‘The thing is, sweetheart, that Linda Barden is like most women in that she needs some affection. She’s battling along there with five children and no man to lean on. It must get her down at times. So I come along and make her a decent offer and she thinks I’m a great fellow. But she should sleep all right tonight because she knows things are going to pan out okay. I don’t need the house and it will be better to have that family in it than to leave it empty. And I reckon that Tim will make a decent man if he’s given the opportunity. He’s got the makings of a really good man.’
When she returned from Sydney Catriona wanted to know all about the purchase of the two properties. David sketched out the bare facts, so Catriona went to her daughter for more details. She listened attentively as Moira gave her impressions of both properties and the people who owned them.
‘Linda Barden must have been very nice-looking, Mum. She still has fine features but she’s a bit careworn. There’s five Barden children aged from four to fifteen and she’s had the worry of the bank pushing her. Dad came along like a white knight. She was so relieved she kissed him goodbye,’ Moira said ingenuously.
‘She kissed David goodbye?’
‘Mmm. Linda thinks Dad is fantastic. Of course, he is, isn’t he? When he told Linda that she and the children could stay there free of rent, she couldn’t believe her ears, and her eyes filled with tears. It must have been such a relief to have all her worries swept away.’
Catriona’s long-held fear that another woman would win David from her surfaced again. This grateful and evidently good-looking woman was going to be where David would be from time to time. The prospect didn’t please her at all. Yet she could not be unimpressed by what David had done.
‘You were very sweet to make that offer to Mrs Barden,’ she said later. ‘What’s she like?’ Catriona added tentatively.
‘She seemed a nice person,’ he said. ‘She’s got a nice lot of children. The eldest boy might be a ripper. A woman left widowed with five children needs some help.’
So she had produced five children. That would appeal to David, who had always wanted a large family.
‘You’ll meet her next time we go out there,’ David said.
Catriona wondered whether seeing Linda Barden in the flesh would ease or aggravate her concerns. She was determined that if she could not be with her husband when he went off to his new properties, Moira would accompany him.
But the challenge for David’s affections, when it came, was not
from Linda Barden. It came from an entirely different direction.
Chapter Ten
The sale of Molonga and Wirrewarra went through smoothly and both properties were now owned by the High Peaks Pastoral Company. David purchased the Molonga ewes and the first cattle had been sold for Linda Barden. Len and Beth Murray were still in residence at Molonga and undecided whether to stay in the country or opt for the coast.
David had had to borrow money to buy the two properties and although property values were down, so were wool and cattle prices. The other properties he owned were paid for so he had a lot of equity, but the wool market was a worry. The reserve price had encouraged a lot of woolgrowers to produce more wool but it had also sheltered a lot of inefficient and indifferent producers. For as long as the government sustained the reserve price with taxpayers’ money, many woolgrowers were sitting pretty. Only the percipient foresaw that an unsold stockpile of millions of bales of wool hanging like a sword of Damocles above the marketplace would act as a depressant on prices.
David wasn’t ‘political’ in any sense because he believed a fellow’s first duty was to provide a decent living for his family. It was all right for the Angus Campbells of the world to belong to farm organisations and the like because he had been handed a property that was debt-free and in great order. David could have become involved at this stage of his life but he was still building up his property interests and argued he hadn’t the time for anything else. What he was convinced of was that the wool industry had been well and truly set off the rails. Huge amounts of money had been poured into research on wool yet it commanded less than 4 per cent of the total world fabric market. Likewise, too much promotion had been directed towards the high-fashion market, whereas everyday woollen articles of good quality were increasingly difficult to come by. Some school pullovers he had seen were so rough and prickly that schoolchildren were likely to retain a poor opinion of wool forever.