by Tony Parsons
Moira paused ever so slightly when she reached the front pew, and her eyes dropped to meet her grandmother’s. She nodded almost imperceptibly before passing on to take her place beside Ian. It was a generous gesture full of love, and Anne felt tears forming in her eyes.
Dougal MacLeod, the man who resembled his grandfather most of all, albeit only in looks, reckoned that his father had got what he had always wanted even if he had had to wait twenty-odd years longer than he had expected. In Ian Taylor his father had acquired his extra son. Dougal didn’t mind because he was doing what he wanted to do and making good money. For Dougal, the outlook couldn’t be brighter.
Angus and Sue-Ellen had been anxiously trying to keep young Andrew amused as Moira made her entrance. Sue-Ellen’s own wedding had been a small affair when compared against Ian and Moira’s, but she wasn’t at all jealous of David and Catriona’s extravaganza. She had her man and she had a lovely little boy who carried a name revered in the MacLeod family. Indeed, she was very pleased for Moira who had been a good friend to her from the first day she came to High Peaks. As for Angus, he reckoned that Ian Taylor was a very decent sort of fellow. He had to be for his father to agree to the marriage because every man and his dog knew how much David MacLeod thought of his only daughter. At last there would be another fellow to absorb the flak when things didn’t go as well as his father thought they should.
A couple of rows further back two women had mixed feelings as they watched the bridal party ascend up the aisle. Susan Hunter (nee Cartwright) realised once again how very different her life would have been if she had married David MacLeod. He was still the most splendid man she had ever met and Catriona was so very fortunate to have him as her husband.
Sarah Matheson, the only young woman in the church who rivalled Moira in looks and figure, had one quick glance at Moira and then focused all her attention on David. David was the only man she had ever loved, and he had spoilt her for any other man. But she was full of happiness for Moira because Ian Taylor seemed a very nice man. Knowing David as she did, she couldn’t believe that he would have sanctioned the wedding if he had any doubts about Ian. She wondered, though, how a lawyer would shape up at High Peaks.
For Moira and Ian, the ceremony itself passed in a blur. They made their vows to one another and Moira’s hand trembled as Ian slipped the gold band over her finger – a symbol of their eternal love. As the newlyweds made their way down the aisle, with frequent stops to receive greetings of congratulations, the first low notes of bagpipes sounded. Two pipers, dressed in the yellow, black and red tartan of Clan MacLeod, took their cue from the minister who reached the porch just before Ian and Moira. The pipes burst forth triumphantly – the traditional piping of the newlyweds into their new life.
Outside the church the lovers were showered with rose petals and kisses as cameras flashed. The bridal limousines led the way back to Glen Morrison for the luncheon reception, followed by a great string of other vehicles.
It was a celebration the guests would remember for a long, long time. They first caught sight of the beautiful marquee as they made their way up the long, winding driveway. Appetisers and pre-dinner drinks were served on the wide verandah of the Glen Morrison homestead and the surrounding lawns, the nearby hills creating the perfect backdrop. But guests weren’t officially greeted by David and Catriona until they made their way to the marquee for lunch.
The marquee looked like something from another world. White linen tablecloths dressed the large, long tables, and the finest silver and glassware made them sparkle. The walls were lined with tall jardinières of peach blossoms and other blooms, filling the marquee with perfume. More flowers graced the tables. The wedding cake had been proudly placed on a small table close to where the bridal party was to sit. There had been no need to go far afield for the cake – the Merriwa Show was testament to the culinary talents of the local ladies. It was a traditional three-tiered white cake decorated with delicate lacework in icing and fresh flowers.
Prawns, asparagus and oysters were served for entrees, followed by large roasted turkeys, baked hams and roast beef from a Glen Morrison steer, accompanied by a selection of salads and specially baked dinner loaves of brown and white bread. Then there were the desserts, if anyone had any space left for them – three kinds of ice creams to add to the fruit salad, pavlovas and strawberries. There was an amazing variety of drinks on offer, ranging from mineral water to Scotch, including a fine selection of Australian wines and several brands of beer. Being a bushie himself, David insisted that there be an ample supply of tea available, knowing how most country people liked to finish with a cuppa.
A happier afternoon could not have been possible, and both Moira and Ian were beaming from the arrival of the first guest till their own departure from the festivities. After many joyous speeches, the six-piece band roused guests to the dance floor. Both Susan and Sarah got to dance with David, but it was Catriona’s arms he truly longed for.
As soon as he released Sarah, David made his way to his wife who, as usual, looked stunning. The gold lace dress so became her that she took David’s breath away.
‘It was a very good thing that Anne and Kate insisted that you learn to dance,’ she told him, as he piloted her about the floor.
‘I agree now, but I didn’t then,’ he confessed, laughing. ‘I didn’t envisage that one day I would be dancing with a gorgeous lady in a gold lace dress,’ he said.
Catriona laughed. ‘You see how farsighted we women are, David,’ she said.
‘Hmmm.’ His hand felt the silk lining beneath Catriona’s lace gown. ‘By the way, you feel terrific in that dress, Cat.’
‘Thank you, darling.’ David had told her that she not only looked gorgeous but also felt terrific. It was the kind of compliment that made her glow inside. It didn’t matter what anyone else told her; it was what David said that mattered.
Later, after the newlyweds had left and the dancing and merriment had died down and a few amongst the crowd had slipped away, as David had predicted they would, to look at the MacLeod bulls and rams, David and Catriona left the others and took Anne and Linda back to the old High Peaks homestead that had been her home since her marriage.
‘It has been such a magical day,’ Anne said. ‘You should both be congratulated. You gave Ian and Moira a lovely wedding.’
‘Yes, a beautiful wedding,’ Linda agreed. ‘Moira looked absolutely divine, and everyone could see how proud both of you were of her. I never saw a prouder father make his way down an aisle.’
‘I’d say David has come out of it very well,’ Catriona said.
‘What do you mean, Catriona?’ Anne asked.
‘Moira is going to stay here and Ian is the extra son David always wanted. Furthermore he’s got another dog crank to maintain Bruce McClymont’s kelpies and his own. If that wasn’t enough, he’s just sold a bull for enough money to nearly cover the cost of the wedding,’ Catriona said.
‘You make it sound as if it were all planned,’ Anne said, and stole a look at her son.
‘Well of course it was planned. David and Bruce dreamed it up on Bruce’s last trip. Bruce brought Ian to Jimbawarra with the object of introducing him to Moira. I’m yet to determine which one of them actually initiated the idea, though I’m inclined to favour David. What a pair of plotters. Well, their scheming worked, though it’s sad it wasn’t until Bruce’s funeral that Ian and Moira met. David is so pleased with himself – he’ll be hard to live with in future.’
After David and Catriona had left, Anne told Linda the real story. ‘It was me, Linda, who suggested to Bruce that he try and introduce Ian to Moira. Bruce told me that Ian was fed-up with living in Melbourne and wanted to come back to Jimbawarra. Bruce thought it was a great idea and put it up to David, who agreed wholeheartedly.’
‘So you were the initial matchmaker?’ Linda said with a smile.
‘Yes, I was. Bruce McClymont was a very nice man, Linda. A very honourable man. Bruce told me all about Ian and how
keen he was on the dogs and that his father had more or less forced him to do law. It was a shame, as Catriona said, that Moira had to meet Ian by way of Bruce’s funeral but look what came out of it. Bruce would be chuckling now. Once Ian begins to know the ropes, David may be able to ease up a little. I don’t want him working forever. Work killed Andy, and I don’t want it to kill David. Perhaps being responsible for getting Ian here may prove to be the last thing I can do for my son,’ Anne said.
‘So now there’s only Dougal to get settled,’ Linda said.
‘I’m not at all worried about Dougal. He has his vocation and thanks to his skill and Starana, Dougal is well on the way to becoming a wealthy man. Dougal will be all right, Linda. I could wish that he and his father were closer, but they will always be very different men. Ian may make up for the loss of Dougal. Well – not quite, but almost.’
‘Ian wants to learn and that makes the difference,’ Linda encouraged. ‘He couldn’t have a better teacher than David.’
‘If Ian can stand up to David, he’ll be all right, Linda. David has his faults. I have never been blind to them. He is intolerant of people who don’t come up to his high standards. David is still living largely by Andy’s standards. Marriage softened him a little, but he is still a wee bit hard at times. He isn’t perfect, Linda.
‘David has been a lovely son in many ways and he has given me a great deal of joy but he is now so busy he hardly has time for anything but the properties. He used to love to trial his dogs but he has no time for that now. There are eight properties now because David wants to leave a legacy for his children. I would be far happier if he sold most of them, invested his money and did a bit of trialling. I might as well talk to the man on the moon as to David because he won’t listen to me.’
‘David is very kind and very generous, and has been very good to my family,’ Linda said.
‘I worry David has become too big, Linda. He has a lot of money invested in properties and stock and it’s a big responsibility. The land was never easy and it’s not easy now. Bad times are a way of life in Australia and there needs to be a better recognition of that. But I’ve talked too much and now I must go and have a little lie-down,’ Anne said.
She lay down for an hour or so, made a cup of tea and took it out to the front verandah. From here she could see much of her garden. The native plants had brought birds galore and the garden was usually full of birdsong. Away in the distance Yellow Rock towered above the countryside. It was all very familiar and very comforting. Clouds draped the mountain and there was a forecast of rain for the next day. It wouldn’t matter now that the wedding was over, and they usually needed rain.
A man walked up the track and Anne felt her heart beat faster. It looked like Andy.
‘Hello, Nanna. How are you after your big day?’ Dougal asked.
So it wasn’t Andy. It would be Andy next time.
David had changed into working clothes after leaving his mother and Linda. Before feeding his dogs he made his way to the tree-shrouded knoll where his father, grandmother and Kate were buried. He had erected a substantial seat made of bush timber in keeping with the nature of the place. It faced the three headstones that were inscribed with the modest details of the three people buried on the knoll. From here David saw Dougal’s Land Cruiser come up the road and stop outside his mother’s house. He turned back to his father’s grave and looked down at it.
‘Well, it all went off all right, Dad. We’ve got a lawyer in the family now. He doesn’t know much about the bush but I think he’s a trier and he’s keen on the dogs. I reckon that between Moira and me we’ll make something of him. You’d have been real proud of Moira today, Dad. If she’s like me, as everyone says, then she’s a lot like you too. She’s a great judge of stock and she’ll be judging a Royal Show any day now.
‘Ian is a computer whizz too, Dad. I don’t understand computers, but they make record-keeping a lot easier. You wouldn’t realise how big our show is now, Dad. There’s eight properties. They would have kept you busy, because they’re keeping me busy. But it’s time for me to feed the dogs, Dad. They’re still okay. I’ll talk to you again soon.’
He came down off the knoll and walked up the track to feed his dogs. He was a millionaire but he still liked to take the time to feed his dogs when he could and to sit on Nap’s log and watch them eat. As he sat there he reckoned that his father’s spirit had never left High Peaks. It was so tangible a thing that he could almost feel his father’s presence. And perhaps in death his father and Bruce McClymont were reunited and making up for the lost years. He liked to think so. If that were not so, why was there an Iona?
He stood up and looked at Yellow Rock. He wondered how Ian would handle the mountain. But that was some way down the track and he wouldn’t push the boy too hard. He reckoned Ian Taylor would be all right. He had damn well better be all right because eight – and soon to be nine – properties took a lot of managing. Things were getting tougher and many farmers couldn’t handle the rate of change.
As David walked back down the track he saw that Catriona was standing at the front gate waiting for him. She had changed from her lovely gold lace frock to her favourite oyster-grey stretch slacks and blouse. He knew now that Catriona and the bond they shared together was his greatest asset. He had a great mother, a fine daughter, one not-so-bad son in Angus, another son who was brilliant but difficult, and several loyal employees who were almost family. But it was Catriona who knew him best. Catriona knew that he went up onto the knoll to talk to his father and she knew that he wanted to do it alone. He knew that if he had to sell up everything he owned, which of course he didn’t, and he had Catriona, he would be happy.
Catriona held out her hand to him and he took it and then put one arm around her waist. Together they walked up the path to the house. At the steps she turned and faced him. ‘You’ve never been sorry you married me, have you, darling?’ she asked.
He shook his head and smiled at her. ‘Of course not. I was thinking as I walked down the track and saw you waiting by the gate that if I had to sell up everything and still had you, I would be happy.’
‘For a man who once considered me a little pest, your view has certainly moderated.’
‘Ah well, little pests grow up. Some of them grow into lovely creatures. Then there’s always one that becomes the queen. You’re my queen, Cat.’
Catriona’s smile lit up the evening. ‘Come inside, darling. I’ve got a story I’d like you to read.’
Penguin Books
Return to the
High Country
A. D. (Tony) Parsons, OAM, has worked as a professional sheep and wool classer, an agricultural journalist, a news editor and rural commentator on radio, a consultant to major agricultural companies, and an award-winning stud breeder of animals and poultry. He owned his first kelpie dog in 1944, and in 1950 he established ‘Karrawarra’, one of the top kelpie studs in Australia. In 1992 he was awarded the Order of Australia Medal for his contribution to the propagation of the Australian kelpie sheepdog.
Since 1947 he has written hundreds of articles, many in international publications. His technical publications include Understanding Ostertagia Infections in Cattle, The Australian Kelpie, The Working Kelpie and Training the Working Kelpie, now regarded as classic works on the breed. Two of his novels, The Call of the High Country and Return to the High Country, are bestsellers.
Tony lives with his wife not far from Toowoomba in Queensland and successfully showed merino sheep and wool until 2005. He still maintains a stud of kelpies.
Also by Tony Parsons in Penguin
The Call of the High Country
Silver in the Sun
Valley of the White Gold
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First published by Penguin Books Australia Ltd, 2001
This edition published by Penguin Group (Australia), 2009
Copyright © Anthony Parsons 2001
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ISBN: 978-0-85796-598-1