The Cattleman's Daughter

by Rachael Treasure

  As he did, Kate set down the pies on the counter and let out a long, slow wolf-whistle.

  ‘My, don’t you look gorgeous, Emily?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Emily said, ‘bloody bewdiful, eh? Trust Auntie Flo to deliver my horse, my saddle, my boots, my undie collection and my stockwhip up top, but no other clothes! I considered one of Gran’s frocks, but florals ain’t my bag.’

  ‘I heard you’d done a runner from the hospital. Apart from the clothes, you’re looking better than I imagined,’ Kate said. ‘Let me deck you out in a new flannie and trousers.’

  ‘Thanks, Kate, but I’ll find something at Dad’s later.’

  Luke sucked in a breath before he stepped out from behind the shelves.

  ‘Geez!’ shrieked Kate. ‘I clean forgot you were there! You scared the crap out of me!’

  ‘Sorry.’ He looked at Emily. ‘Hello again.’

  ‘You!’ said Emily, her eyes widening as she saw the gorgeous guy from the hospital standing in front of her. Those dark curls, the worn green T-shirt and the jeans that hugged his fit body.

  ‘Yes, me!’

  Emily smiled as she spoke. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Luke wasn’t ready to tell her he was going to be working for Parks. He realised he still had the book in his hands. ‘Um … shopping for books?’

  Emily recognised he was holding her family history.

  ‘It’s a good story, that one,’ she said, eyes twinkling.

  ‘An introduction any time now would be nice,’ said Sam, leaning on the shop counter.

  Luke and Emily looked at each other and burst out laughing.

  ‘I’d like to introduce him to you but I don’t know who he is.’

  Sam and Kate frowned.

  ‘I see,’ said Sam.

  ‘I don’t,’ said Kate.

  Emily held her hand out towards Sam. ‘We met once at the hospital. This is my brother, Sam Flanaghan, and this is Kate.’

  ‘Sam Flanaghan?’ Luke said. ‘As in the singer? I knew I knew you.’

  Sam flashed a courteous smile. He was used to being recognised.

  ‘Nice to meet you both. And you?’ Luke said to Emily.

  ‘Emily Flanaghan.’ She held out her hand and he shook it, Emily revelling in his touch.

  ‘I’m Luke. Luke Bradshaw.’

  ‘A pleasure to meet you properly this time, Luke.’

  ‘A pleasure it is.’ They held each other’s hands for a fraction longer than normal and held each other’s gaze, too, until Sam cleared his throat.

  ‘Time to get on.’

  ‘Yes, see you round,’ said Emily, suddenly letting go of his hand, blushing and almost bumbling out of the store remembering what she must look like.

  Luke was left watching her through the dark gauze of the flyscreen.

  ‘Made up your mind?’ Kate asked pointedly.

  Yes,’ Luke said, ‘as a matter of fact I have.’

  ‘Well, good for you.’

  ‘Pie, please, with sauce, and this book.’

  ‘Reading up on Emily’s family history, I see?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The book. It’s all about Sam and Emily’s family.’

  ‘Great,’ said Luke.

  ‘Can I help you with anything else today?’

  Luke paused. He wanted to ask who Emily’s man was. If she had children, she had to have a partner or a husband, didn’t she? Luke’s heart sank at the thought.

  ‘Um. Yes. Can you tell me where the VPP office is?’ Luke could see Kate was curious as to why he was asking.

  ‘Down the street on the right. Opposite the school. You taking over from old Darcy?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘That surprises me they’ve sent someone new. There’s been talk that the VPP’ll run this side of the mountain out of Heyfield, a hundred clicks thataway as the crow flies,’ Kate said, pointing towards the back of the store. ‘But you can ask old Darcy about that. Doesn’t agree with what they’re doing down there in the city. Kicking the cows off and that. I reckon that’s why he’s getting out now.’

  ‘Darcy?’

  ‘Yeah, Robert Crosswell. We call him Darcy. He can tell you all about it, but if you’re looking for him, you won’t find him around here today.’

  ‘Where is he then?’

  Kate flicked her head in the direction of Heyfield.

  ‘He’ll be in a meeting. Always in meetings over there. But you can still check out the ranger’s office. It’ll be unlocked.’

  ‘It will?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Luke said. He picked up his pie and sauntered out of the store, wondering how the people in Melbourne’s VPP could think this place was hostile. They all seemed so nice and friendly.

  Seventeen

  Emily sat in Sam’s ute outside the pub, perving on Luke as he ate his pie in the shade of the shop verandah across the road. She was just wondering what he was doing in town, when Bridie arrived towing an overweight, panting Pomeranian.

  ‘Emily! Thank God you’re alive!’

  ‘Hey,’ Emily said, getting out of the ute and hugging her friend. Suddenly Emily was transported back to the Cattlemen’s and the night before the race. It was as if meeting Bridie that night had somehow opened her up to this path of change, this life without Clancy. Just being near her had given Emily the courage to really believe she could leave him, and she was grateful to her for that. She was overjoyed to see her now in Dargo.

  ‘I heard you’d taken off from the hospital,’ Bridie said. She looked at Emily sympathetically. ‘And I heard you’ve left Clancy.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘You doing okay?’

  Emily nodded.

  ‘Good for you. Where are the girls?’

  ‘Dad took ’em to the beach for a treat, and to get away from all the bloody protest ride organising just for one day. It’s been pretty insane.’

  ‘Didn’t you wanna go with them?’

  ‘Me? Nah. Not the beach. Don’t feel like I want to go anywhere just yet.’

  ‘That’s understandable. You’d look shocking in a pair of swimmers with all that gravel rash. But how are you, really?’ Bridie asked.

  Before Emily could answer Bridie waved her silver-ringed fingers in the air and said, ‘No, don’t answer that. You look like shit so I don’t have to ask!’

  ‘You’re the second person to tell me I look like shit. No wonder I haven’t ventured into town till now! All I’m getting is insults,’ Emily said, smiling.

  ‘Listen, if you’re going to look like shit, I’m the best person to bump into. Hey, what are you doing now?’

  Emily shrugged. ‘Kate’s just getting our grocery order ready, Sam’s getting a carton and then we were heading back up.’

  ‘Right, that’s it. You’ve got an hour or so to spare. You’re coming to my place. Here, hold this.’ She picked up the fluffy dog and shoved it at Emily. ‘Get in. I’ll drive,’ said Bridie, clearly impressed with Sam’s sporty V8.

  ‘But Sam?’

  ‘What about me?’

  The girls spun about to see Sam with a beer carton under his arm making his way to them.

  ‘Sam bloody Flanaghan!’

  Sam tilted his head to one side taking in the blonde curvy girl, his face blank.

  ‘It’s pudden guts,’ Bridie said. ‘Remember? Dargo Primary.’

  Still Sam looked blank.

  ‘She’s changed, hasn’t she?’ Emily said.

  ‘Yeah. Whoever she is.’

  ‘She is Bridie McFarlane!’ Bridie said, doing a twirl and curtsy, pushing out her large, denim-clad bottom.

  ‘Hooly dooly, Bridie! You’re, you’re …’ Sam was stuttering, hypnotised by her generous breasts that rose up out of her singlet top. He set down the carton, ‘… you’re bloody eye-poppingly, amazingly gorgeous!’

  ‘Well, that’s a bit strong, but I have shaken my pudden-guts image and grown up.’

  ‘And out,’ Sam said, quickly adding, �
�in all the right places!’

  ‘And you haven’t changed,’ Bridie said. ‘Still a pretty boy tryin’ to get the world’s attention.’

  ‘But not the only pretty boy in town today,’ Emily said. ‘Check out the fella over at the store, Bridie.’

  Bridie glanced at Luke, who was now getting into his little car. He smiled and waved.

  Bridie gave a low whistle. ‘Cute as! Well, you’ve got a bit of competition in town for a change,’ Bridie said, tapping Sam on his chest. ‘Who is that honey-babe?’

  ‘Some city-boy blow-in,’ Sam said.

  ‘Just like you, hey?’ teased Bridie. ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Luke Bradshaw.’

  Before Emily could stop her, Bridie was bellowing out, ‘Hey, Luke!’ Luke wound his window down. ‘Feel like having a beer with this fella here?’ Bridie pointed to Sam.

  Luke shrugged, got out of his car and began to walk over to the pub, a big grin on his face.

  ‘What are you doing?’ hissed Emily.

  ‘Shhh,’ said Bridie, winking. ‘Tactics.’ She beamed at Luke and said loudly, ‘Sam here needs some company for an hour or so. Are you up for a beer while I take his sister to my place to get her minge waxed?’

  Emily turned bright red and stifled a mortified scream. Luke laughed. ‘Yeah. Sure.’

  Bridie held her charming smile and directed it towards Sam. ‘Mind if I borrow your ute?’

  ‘No worries,’ Sam said, while Emily looked amazed. He never let her drive his ute. ‘Have fun.’ He and Luke turned and made their way inside the old crooked door of the Dargo Hotel.

  Emily slapped her friend on the shoulder.

  ‘How could you! I can’t believe you said that about my minge in front of him. My God, Bridie. What were you thinking?’

  ‘It’s my trade. I can’t help it. Might as well be upfront with people.’

  ‘Well, let me tell you about being upfront. You aren’t going anywhere near my front bum with hot wax!’

  ‘Oh, get in,’ said Bridie.

  Emily stood her ground.

  ‘Get in!’

  Bridie drove about two hundred metres down the road, bunny-hopping Sam’s ute all the way, and turned the engine off outside an old miner’s cottage. A new sign was screwed to the white picket fence: Beauty in the Bush.

  Bridie smiled as she watched Emily read the sign.

  ‘Get it?’

  ‘Get what?’

  ‘Beauty in the Bush,’ she said, then burst out laughing. ‘It gets me every time! Beauty in the bush,’ she said again, indicating the bush-covered hills surrounding Dargo, ‘and beauty in the bush,’ this time pointing to her crotch.

  ‘Oh my God!’ said Emily, getting it at last. ‘That’s a classic!’

  ‘Yeah. The fellas at the pub think it’s a scream. And it sounds better than Beauty in the Country!’

  Again they laughed hard, before subsiding to silence.

  ‘It’s great to see you again,’ Emily said sincerely.

  ‘And you too. It’s so good you’ve moved back up.’ They paused, both thinking of Clancy.

  ‘You know Clancy’s seeing Penny from the hospital,’ Emily said.

  Bridie bit her lip and nodded. ‘He’s been here drunk every weekend. Comes up from Brigalow, Friday through Sunday. Word’s out Road Transport are after him most Monday mornings cos he’s so topped up with booze he shouldn’t be drivin’ the truck. We don’t know if he’s here for Penny, or if he’s hoping to catch you.’

  ‘So he knows the girls and I are up on the plains?’

  ‘Not for sure, but I reckon he thinks you’re most likely there.’

  ‘Do you think I should see him? Talk to him?’

  Bridie turned to face her. ‘Dunno. Probably. But maybe not just yet. You need to get strong, girl, inside and out, before you take that man on. He is bad news with a capital B.’

  ‘I know. It’s just, I don’t know … life hasn’t turned out how I thought it would,’ she said quietly. ‘The whole thing sucks.’

  ‘Hey,’ said Bridie, ‘I know, Em. But I’m here to help you. We can help each other. My life didn’t turn out the way I thought it would either. But this is our chance to make it better. C’mon inside. Bring Muff with you.’

  ‘Muff?’

  ‘Yeah. My dog.’

  ‘You called your dog Muff?’

  ‘Yeah. She reminds me of one of those old-fashioned things ladies warmed their hands in. You know, those rolls of fur. Look at her, she looks just like a muff.’

  ‘You wax bikini lines and you called your dog Muff?’

  ‘I know. Priceless, isn’t it? The boys think that’s a scream too.’

  ‘I bet they do.’

  ‘I never told them I’ve got a cat, though. I’d never hear the end of the pussy jokes!’

  ‘Well? What’s the cat’s name?’

  Bridie shook her head and raised a hand up to her mouth to stifle a giggle. She muttered the name into her hand, but Emily couldn’t hear it. She was already laughing from Bridie’s infectious wheezing laughter.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Beaver. Okay? The cat’s called Beaver.’

  ‘Beaver!’ screamed Emily and both girls dissolved into fits of laughter. ‘You, dear Bridie, are the queen of fur!’

  ‘Well, what are you waiting fur! Let’s get you up on the slab!’

  For all her gaudy dress sense and brassy blonde locks, Bridie had done up the cottage beautifully. Emily felt soothed standing in the whitewashed salon with the soft towels, dim lights and scent of roses, but her reflection in the full-length mirror made her heart sink.

  ‘Oh, my God. That’s not me,’ she said, turning sideways to check out her backside. ‘I can’t believe I was talking to that hot bloke looking like this.’

  ‘I know. You have kinda got that quarter-horse look going on, what with your hogged mane and that rounded arse. Those pants really don’t do much for you.’

  ‘Oh, geez, Bridie. I don’t reckon you can do much for me either. Let’s just forget the whole thing.’

  ‘Go on with you! I can work miracles. I’m a professional.’ Bridie wove her fingers together and cracked them. ‘Now, I don’t play Enya, or Nora Jones. Can’t stand the woeful moaners. I will however do Dolly P. And at a stretch I’ll play The Corrs.’

  ‘Got any Sunny Cowgirls?’

  ‘Do rabbits like to fornicate? Course I have. Now get your gear off,’ she said, handing Emily a robe. ‘We’ll have you Princess Mary’d in no time, darls.’

  As Bridie left the room, Emily stripped down to her underwear. She looked again in the mirror and rolled her eyes. Her undies were white full briefs that rose up over her tummy and sat low on her thighs. Printed in black lettering across the front was Why, hello mummy!

  ‘You complete dag,’ she said to herself before pulling them off and clambering up onto the table and covering herself quickly with a towel.

  Emily let out a scream as pain ripped along her skin.

  ‘Geez, Louise!’

  ‘Get over it, wuss,’ laughed Bridie. She set aside the small white strip of cloth and dipped the waxing knife into the pot, then expertly ran the metal blade across Emily’s shin. ‘Wait till I do your bikini line!’

  ‘I told you, you are not going anywhere near my bikini line, you sadistic bitch! I don’t mind mine looking like Muff.’

  ‘You’ve been married too long. That thing has to come off! Besides, what’s worse? Collecting a tree at full pelt on a horse or having a Brazilian?’

  ‘I dunno. I’ve never had a Brazilian. What exactly is it?’

  ‘You don’t know? Where have you been?’ Bridie asked incredulously.

  ‘Dargo, Brigalow. Certainly not Brazil.’

  Bridie gestured with the wax knife. ‘Where do I begin? Have you ever been to Tasmania?’

  ‘Nup.’

  ‘But you know what the map of Tassie looks like?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Well, after Mum and Dad moved us there for
the logging, I got very familiar with the map of Tassie. Are you picturing a map of Tasmania?’

  ‘Yep,’ said Emily, ‘I’m picturing it.’

  ‘I clearfell the bits down the east coast and west coast,’ she said, demonstrating with the knife on her own clothed crutch, ‘and I do a strip across the top from Burnie to Launceston, but I stop halfway at the midlands about Campbell Town and I certainly don’t wax any further south than Oatlands. And I don’t go anywhere deep south, near Geeveston. Got it? All clear?’

  Emily frowned.

  ‘Well, if you want it all clear,’ Bridie said, patting Emily’s arm, ‘that’s called a Chihuahua. But I wouldn’t recommend it. The regrowth is shocking, so I’d sooner selectively log with a Brazilian.’

  ‘Oh, my God. You can’t half tell you’re a logger’s daughter. You really are tragic.’

  ‘Thanks. Once the painful bit’s all over, I’ll give you a facial and you can really chill out.’

  Later, lying back with cool cotton-balls resting on her eyelids, Emily felt her body relaxing. The tension she held there began to let go and she felt overwhelming gratitude again for her friend. She had never experienced anything like what Bridie had done for her.

  Scalp massage, face massage, neck and shoulders. Thanks to Bridie she now had a chance to heal on the outside, and thanks to Evie she was healing on the inside.

  For the past few weeks on the high plains Evie had nourished Emily’s body with good food and fed her mind with good books. Emily had read and read, absorbing as much as she could: novels about young girls finding themselves and realising their dreams, magazines on permaculture, information on grasses and how they had evolved with grazing as a tool for their survival. Emily’s mind was opening up like a flower and her body was healing. Evie had explained to Emily that near-death experiences could do that to a person.

  ‘It’s normal,’ she assured, ‘to come out of these things with an altered state of awareness of your world. There are lots of cases of people, like you, who nearly died and who returned with a fresh appreciation of life. They often end up having deep humanitarian and ecological concerns. Your fate always has been and always will be interdependent with the fate of the world.’

  Sometimes, listening to Evie was like listening to some wise ancient prophet, then she’d swear, or burp, or curse Jesus Christ, and she seemed so normal. She held Emily in a state of intrigue and Sam in a state of annoyance. The one thing that irritated Sam more than Evie was her feisty little Jack Russell. Sam would lift his lip and growl at it as it walked past, and it would lift its lip at him and growl in return. But, deep down, there was a level of humour in the constant stirring from Sam of Evie and her dog. Slowly, Emily recognised that Sam was learning too, even though he didn’t know it.