Charlotte's Creek

by Therese Creed

  ‘She’s been chewing on a bone and it’s got stuck,’ he explained.

  ‘Chewing a bone?’ Lucy repeated in amazement. ‘But cows are herbivores!’

  ‘Probably deficient in phosphorous.’ Ted reached inside the cow’s mouth. ‘Happens sometimes. Easy fixed.’

  But even though he pushed, pulled and jiggled with all his might, the bone was well and truly wedged. The cow began to struggle and writhe, and it took all of Lucy’s strength to maintain her hold on the tail and stay balanced on her shoulder. All at once, with a wet sucking sound, the bone dislodged. The smell intensified and pus began to stream from the side of the cow’s mouth.

  ‘No need for me to lance it now,’ Ted observed as the exhausted animal fell still.

  ‘Can I let her go yet?’ Lucy panted, eager to get away from the stench.

  But Ted was examining the sharp piece of bone curiously, with infuriating deliberation. ‘Not before she’s had her jab.’

  He ambled to the ute and charged up a monstrous syringe with thick white liquid from a glass bottle, then wandered back over. After whacking a spot on the cow’s rump with his hand, he stuck in the needle with a pop, and eased the penicillin into her muscle. She struggled again, lifting her head and scrabbling with her legs. After withdrawing the syringe, Ted used his free arm to swing Lucy up and away from the cow. They stood back and watched as the cow gained her footing and heaved herself up. Without a backward glance, she trotted lethargically away.

  ‘Go and have a bite to eat, old girl,’ Ted called after her. ‘You look like you need it.’

  ‘She wasn’t very grateful,’ Lucy commented, trying to hide her pride over their success.

  Ted laughed. ‘Could’ve been worse. Sometimes they try to flatten you once you’ve got them outta strife. I knew she wouldn’t, but. Real kind temperament, that old girl.’

  ‘An old friend of yours, I suppose.’ Lucy laughed and gazed happily up at Ted. At that moment it seemed like old times.

  He became sombre. ‘Thanks, eh. Couldn’t have done that without an offsider.’

  Lucy searched his face for some clue to his thoughts, but his features were determinedly fixed again. Impulsively, she asked, ‘Ted, do you remember what you said to me at Sydney airport?’

  He frowned apprehensively. ‘Yeah, course I do. Wasn’t that long ago.’

  ‘So did you really mean it?’ She pulled on his arm to make him meet her eye. ‘Do you want me in your life or not?’

  ‘You’re sounding like some sad bird in a soapie,’ he said, looking away again.

  Ignoring the comment, Lucy persisted. ‘Why do you think I came back to Charlotte’s Creek?’ Ted remained silent, so she went on. ‘For Mel and the kids, yes, but mostly because of you.’

  Ted looked back at her reluctantly. ‘Righto. So was it worth the trouble?’

  Lucy suddenly felt tired, her patience worn thin. ‘Well, no, I don’t think it was,’ she said, fighting to stay calm. ‘Most of the time when I’m with you I feel like I’m nothing but a nuisance. Something’s changed. You’ve changed.’ She turned to go.

  ‘Nothing new about me,’ he said gruffly. ‘But everything else has gone to the dogs. There’s no future here. I’m not expecting you’ll be sticking round much longer.’

  ‘I see,’ Lucy turned back to fix her eyes on him. ‘Well, I’m glad we’ve sorted that out. I’ll stay as long as Mel needs me.’

  ‘Lucy . . .’ He took hold of her arm, his eyes pleading. ‘It’s you I’m thinking of . . .’ He stopped.

  ‘Yes?’ She waited hopefully.

  He looked as though he was about to speak again, but then stopped and released her arm. ‘Nothing,’ he muttered.

  They drove home in silence. As soon as the vehicle stopped, Lucy got out and strode towards the safety of her cottage.

  Over the days that followed, Lucy no longer sought out Ted. Other than mealtimes, she barely saw him. Her phone conversations with her parents were full of the day-to-day happenings that she busied herself with. She’d taken the kids to Pink Lake to visit the Tyrrells and they’d all had a marvellous afternoon exploring the property with Cliff. Billie now knew her times tables up to twelve, and Cooper could finally use a dictionary. The twins knew all their letters and were starting on basic letter blends; Molly was even reading some words and simple sentences. The brown hen had a new clutch of chickens and the vegie garden had been resurrected. Best of all, the people who’d taken Alpha’s pups were unanimously pleased. By all accounts, the cross had been a good one, and the youngsters were starting to work.

  During the phone calls, Marie talked and questioned Lucy incessantly. She appeared satisfied with Lucy’s answers, content that for the time being her daughter was happy enough. Graham talked little, asked a few keen questions and listened attentively to all that Lucy said. Despite her insistence that she was perfectly fine, Lucy could tell that he had picked up on her troubled state of mind and was becoming increasingly worried about her. She hoped he would put it down to the turmoil that was going on around her at Charlotte’s Creek, but from a few of his subtle references to Ted, she suspected that she’d failed to hide the true cause of her low spirits from her astute father.

  The Wests, caught up in their own concerns, were oblivious to Lucy’s unhappiness, and she was able to maintain a calm exterior and plod along well enough, one day at a time, focusing all of her energy on the children and avoiding all thoughts of where her own life was heading.

  Then one day in early April, a few weeks after Lucy’s disheartening conversation with Ted, an enormous four-wheel-drive hire car from Townsville, fitted out for the mines with fluorescent stripes and beacons on the roof, drove over the grid and parked at Gwen’s house-yard gate. Lucy and the kids looked across curiously from the schoolroom window.

  ‘It’s not the agent,’ Cooper observed.

  ‘Looks like a couple of toffs,’ Billie added, as the doors opened and a well-dressed woman and man stepped out. ‘Jeez, look at them!’

  But Lucy gripped the windowsill and cried out. ‘Gemma!’

  ‘You know that bird?’ Wade asked.

  ‘Isn’t she beautiful!’ Molly breathed. ‘Like a fairy princess.’

  By now, Gwen was hurrying down the steps to meet the visitors. After a short exchange with Lloyd, Lucy saw a look of surprise cross her face and she glanced towards the schoolroom.

  ‘So who is this Gemma sheila?’ Billie looked at Lucy.

  But Wade ran from the room, apparently content to take Lucy’s word for it. ‘Mum, Gemma’s here!’ he yelled on his way down the hall.

  ‘She’s my little sister,’ Lucy said quietly.

  ‘Little?’ Billie repeated.

  ‘Struth.’ Cooper gave a low whistle. ‘And I thought you were a good looker. Who’s the old bloke? That’s not your old man. And has she swallowed a seed, or what?’ Without waiting for Lucy to reply, Cooper headed down the hall after Wade.

  ‘Your family like sneaking up on you, eh?’ Billie asked, still looking at Lucy’s stunned face.

  At the sight of Lucy coming down the steps of Mel’s house, Gemma screeched in delight, interrupting Gwen, who was pressing her and Lloyd to come inside for tea. Disregarding her high-heeled boots, Gemma pelted across the dusty, uneven ground towards her older sister and engulfed her in an enthusiastic embrace.

  ‘Lucy!’ she laughed. ‘Oh, this is so exciting!’

  Lucy returned the hug, then stepped back. Putting her hands on her sister’s shoulders, she scrutinised with a smile the bump under Gemma’s fitted shirt. ‘Gem, is everything all right?’

  ‘Oh, I’m horribly sick for most of the day, but that’s irrelevant.’

  Lucy laughed and shook her head. ‘What on earth are you doing here? Why didn’t you give me some notice that you were coming to visit? I could have been a bit better prepared!’ Arm in arm they walked back over to Lloyd and Gwen. Noel had come out of the house to join them and was now talking to the businessman.

  ‘We wan
ted to surprise you, didn’t we, Lloyd?’ Gemma answered Lucy’s question, effectively interrupting the two men. With a warm smile, Lloyd stepped forward and pecked Lucy on the cheek.

  Gemma went on, ‘Anyway, we only really decided to come up yesterday, after talking to Dad.’

  ‘Dad?’ Lucy was nonplussed.

  ‘No need to flatter yourself, big sister,’ Lloyd said smilingly. ‘We actually didn’t come to see you at all, we came to see this place.’

  ‘This place?’ Lucy repeated blankly.

  ‘Your father suggested that we buy Charlotte’s Creek,’ Lloyd said casually. ‘You know, keep it as a piece of Australia and all that. Gem and I thought it was an idea worth investigating.’

  ‘You’re not serious?’ Lucy said dubiously.

  ‘Let’s go in and have a cuppa,’ Gwen suggested, her voice a little shaky. ‘Then Noel can take you for a drive around. If I’d known you were coming I would have lined up the agent.’ Gwen’s cheeks were pinker than usual, and Lucy could tell she was excited. Noel, on the other hand, was looking slightly ill.

  ‘I don’t require an agent to tell me what to think of the property,’ Lloyd said. ‘Actually, I was hoping my good friend Mr Golder might give me a tour.’

  ‘Sensational!’ Lloyd exclaimed. The Sydney couple had returned from their drive with Ted and were sipping tea and eating arrowroot biscuits with Lucy. Lloyd had been well pleased with all that Ted had shown him, and on their return, he’d insisted on afternoon tea in Lucy’s cottage. He was clearly enjoying the novelty of the experience, and Lucy had just finished telling him about Lotte, and Marianne’s dusty letters.

  ‘I’m liking this place more and more,’ he continued. ‘It’s positively steeped in history, and now you’re telling me there’s a resident ghost! What more could one ask for?’

  ‘Lotte seems to have gone now, though,’ Lucy said.

  ‘That’s a damn shame. I wonder what we could do to coax her back again?’

  Lucy laughed and looked fondly at the businessman. Today she was seeing her brother-in-law in a new light. How wrong she’d been about him. His face, which she’d once thought so smug and arrogant, she could now see was full of warmth and intelligence. He was certainly savvy, but he wasn’t heartless. He could be theatrical and flashy, but he wasn’t false. ‘Lloyd,’ she remarked suddenly, ‘I have to confess, I’m amazed at your plan to buy this place.’

  Lloyd gave a great guffaw. ‘I’m doing it for my own sake—I know better than to leave a whim of Gemma’s unsatisfied.’

  ‘You’re a tease, Lloyd!’ Gemma gave her husband a playful shove.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re taking an investment of this size so lightly.’ Lucy shook her head, her face full of concern. ‘That you would go into an industry that you have absolutely no interest in, just to—’

  ‘Hold on now, sister Lucia.’ Lloyd put his hand on her wrist. ‘Nothing’s been decided yet. And I am a livestock man, you know—I own six thoroughbreds!’ He laughed. Then he was serious again. ‘Agribusiness is probably one of the last frontiers for me, and I’m ready to dabble in a bit of beef. What makes you think I’ve no natural interest in the place?’ He fixed his piercing blue eyes on Lucy’s face. ‘I’ve always fancied an “estate” in the country, you know. Just didn’t have the right connections until now.’

  ‘Oh . . . I suppose—’ Lucy began, but he went on.

  ‘I’ve been intrigued ever since you flew the coop and disappeared into the wild blue yonder. I must admit to having been a tad jealous of you when Gem first told me.’

  ‘He was. Can you believe it?’ Gemma confirmed Lloyd’s words with a smile.

  ‘I can assure you this purchase is not just a tax dodge,’ Lloyd continued. ‘I’m greatly looking forward to the novelty of spending some of my dough on something noble. I know too many philanthropists, and their example started to bother me when I turned fifty. You know, the hereafter and all that.’

  Now Lucy was laughing again.

  ‘Started to make me feel damned guilty,’ Lloyd went on. ‘Not that I don’t expect a return on this investment, mind you—I haven’t become that charitable yet.’

  They all laughed at that.

  ‘And now, Aunty Lucia,’ Lloyd went on solemnly, ‘we have this bump to think about.’ He lovingly stroked Gemma’s belly. ‘I’d like to think that the little lad will still be able to get safe, good-quality food, grown on his own turf by his own people. Judging by what you people have been telling me, this may be quite a rare commodity in a few decades.’

  Lucy smiled back at Lloyd, hoping that her newfound admiration for him was evident.

  ‘I’m not a businessman for nothing,’ he said. ‘I can see when an organisation, or a country for that matter, is cutting its own throat for short-term gain.’

  ‘All right, Lloyd,’ Lucy said.

  ‘Are you getting the picture yet?’ He grinned.

  She nodded and exchanged a glance with her beaming sister.

  ‘Trust me,’ Lloyd added as an afterthought, ‘the pleasure will be all mine, while the hard work will be the manager’s! We’ll show up for a gander from time to time with our little tyke, who will no doubt love having a bit of space to roam about in.’

  Lucy smiled thoughtfully, wondering what it would mean for the Wests if Lloyd did decide to buy the station. Perhaps, she told herself hopefully, they could stay on to run it? But even as the idea formed itself in her mind, Lucy knew in her heart that the Wests’ time at Charlotte’s Creek had come to an end.

  Chapter 41

  Lucy and the children were playing a game of Scrabble in the schoolroom when the convoy of ringers’ vehicles and horse floats bumped over the grid. The children ran to the window to watch, and Lucy joined them. The female ringers’ ute was last in line. Lucy could see Bri’s profile behind the wheel as they passed. Since the Irvines’ visit, there had been no more word from Lloyd regarding the purchase of Charlotte’s Creek; nonetheless, Lucy supposed this would be the last time the team of contractors would muster for the Wests. This sobering thought apparently hadn’t occurred to Bri, whose expression was as carefree as always. But perhaps little would change for the ringers after all: most probably the new managers would take them on. In any case, they’d never come across as sentimental types.

  The muster would take a few weeks, as exact stock numbers—or as close to this as possible—had to be finalised, and a clear profile of what was running in each paddock provided for the agents. Every beast counted would be ‘bang-tailed’, which involved having the brush on its tail cut short to indicate that it had been processed. There was quite a bit of tidying-up work to do, including branding the larger cleanskins, castrating some elusive mickey bulls, and culling a few ancient and cunning beasts that had managed to slip between the cracks in previous musters. Adam Hood had been lined up to assist with the muster of Hill, Round Mountain, Ludwig’s Camp and Ginger Ridge paddocks.

  Dinner that night was a lively affair, with the ringers’ usual banter around the table. It seemed to distract Dennis and Mel, and for a time they joked along with the best of them. But when the noisy crew left the kitchen after dessert and trailed across to the dongas, Dennis’s face settled into its now customary lines of worry. It seemed to Lucy that Mel clattered the dishes in the sink with extra determination, as though trying to keep her mind in the here and now, her thoughts confined to the washing-up and the sensation of the warm suds on her hands, avoiding any painful reflections on the past or visions of the future.

  The days of the round of mustering slid by, and from what Lucy could gather from mealtime conversations, everything went largely according to plan. Each day another paddock was ticked off the list by Dennis, for the last time. Lucy didn’t object when he asked if the two older children could go along on three of the days. Under these exceptional circumstances, she decided, mustering should override school.

  The muster took a few days longer than anticipated, mainly because Ted insisted that no corners be c
ut. The final days ran into the fourth weekend, and Dennis asked Lucy if she wanted to tag along on the Saturday.

  ‘Only Swan left,’ he told her on Friday night. ‘You might never get another chance to go for a ride in the country.’

  Swan paddock was a straightforward mustering job, the country open and flat. The Swan cattle always took the same route to the yards, winding their way along a crooked ridge between three large shallow lagoons. Lucy pottered along, bringing up the rear as usual on the old draught mare, with Shep at her side. The arthritic dog was content to let his younger, overeager four-legged counterparts do all the legwork; like Lucy, he seemed satisfied with being allowed to be inconspicuously present. As she rode, Lucy looked around, trying to drink in all the sights and sounds, and fix them in her memory: the warm shades and contours of the glossy-coated Brahman cattle, weaving their way through the round-leafed poplar gum saplings, stands of stately coolibah and clumps of weeping dogwood; the spreading, bird-dotted lagoons, reflecting the clouds. Then, carefully avoiding the sight of Ted, she watched the other ringers astride their gleaming mounts, poised and alert yet relaxed. She looked at the children she’d grown to love so much, Cooper leaning forward on Shunter, squinting at the action up ahead, and Billie on Podge, her keen freckled face framed by messy strands of sandy hair, pushed down under her hat. Weaving throughout the scene were the athletic little working dogs, devoted and joyful in their every move, darting, stalking or freezing, ready to follow the subtlest of signals. And all the while Lucy relished the swaying rhythm of Pagan’s plodding width beneath her, and the distinctive aroma of warm leather and horse.

  In the yards, Lucy did her best to be invisible, watching all the goings-on from vantage points where she was sure to be in no one’s way. But to her surprise, both Bri and Tash took a moment to come and have a short chat to her—Lucy guessed it was on account of her approaching departure from Charlotte’s Creek. Neither of them went so far as to ask what her life would hold on re-entering the wider world, but she still appreciated the gesture of friendliness. Even Bevan and Mickey acknowledged her, calling her over to perform several small tasks.