The Cattleman's Daughter

by Rachael Treasure

  Emily shifted up on the log as her father came over to the campfire and sat next to her, pride and love for his son on his face. Emily knew all their family love and the teachings of Evie had helped Sam in some way, but Emily could now see a new energy in him – he was falling in love. Sam strummed a few powerful notes and began to tune his Maton with a couple of twanging plucks of the strings. Then his fingertips hit the worn wooden face of the guitar and drummed a lively lead-in beat.

  ‘A one, two, a one two three four …’

  And he was away, Sam Flanaghan singing again. It was a new song, a song Emily had never heard before, but she was pretty sure she knew where Sam had discovered his muse.

  ‘Peachy bottom! Honeyed hair! You get about like you just don’t care,’ he sang. ‘When I see you sittin’ over there, you make me wanna be your chair! Ouch, I love it when you treat me mean. Hottest lovin’ mama come and sit on me!’

  The campers let out a ‘woo-hoo’ at his funny but funky song, spurring Sam onto another verse. Emily laughed while others clapped and danced, some joining Sam in singing the chorus, Bridie with a smile like the sun.

  They grooved for two hours, Sam fronting a solo concert in the middle of nowhere. He made their eyes shine in the firelight and their hearts sing. Emily knew the joy and togetherness they felt that night was founded on generations of such nights shared beneath the stars. Friendship, food, music, bawdy jokes, a campfire and a love of the land, these were the constants, no matter what the day, the year, the era. Eventually the tired campers took themselves off to bed, covered in dust, spilled beer, tomato sauce and rum, but all with the warmth of community in their hearts. Emily was the last to kick the straying, smoking logs into the fire. Reluctantly she took herself off to her swag, the longing for Luke heavy on her mind.

  As Emily lay in the tent, she could hear the crack and tick of the bush about her. Her sunburnt shoulders were radiating gentle heat and she could feel her body sweating beneath her singlet and cotton boxers. She sighed. It had been such a big day, but her mind kept going back to that meeting, those kisses on the hillside with Luke. It just didn’t make sense. His words ran round and round in her head: ‘I’ll find you.’

  As if, she thought, rolling over angrily. He’d be tucked up in a rangers camp somewhere with his boss sleeping just metres away. She shut her eyes and counted, but still sleep wouldn’t come. Instead of tossing and turning, she dragged her swag out and pulled on her boots. She needed to cool off by the river and have some space to think. Rousie stirred at the entrance of the tent, stretched and made a comical noise.

  ‘Shush you,’ Emily said.

  Outside, the night was exceptionally still and there was a sliver of moon in the sky. There was just enough light for Emily to see the lumps of swags scattered about in the campground. Some slept in tents, others on the ground. No need to be huddled near the fire on a night like this. A little way off she could make out the paler-coloured horses as they dozed on nightlines amidst the trees. She could see Bonus’s gleaming white socks.

  She and Rousie made their way downstream to a grassy spot that jutted out in the river bend – perfect for a cool sleep beside the water. She thought the mozzies might bother her but was beyond caring. She lay for a time, looking up at the gap in the gums to the stars beyond.

  The river tinkled quietly over rocks in a soothing sound. Emily called Rousie to her side and pulled the tarp over her head. For a short time she lay in the silence. Then she heard Rousie’s low growl, and a sharp bark. Flipping the swag open, she propped herself on her elbows and looked around, holding tight to Rousie’s collar as he barked. In the shadows stood a man.

  ‘Emily?’

  ‘Luke!’ she said, happiness flooding through her. ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘I said I would.’

  He stepped out of the shadows and came to kneel before her. But his handsome face was set like stone.

  She frowned, her body suddenly tense. ‘What’s wrong?’

  He paused. A deep frown slashed between his brows.

  ‘I came to tell you the Bill’s been voted through parliament. You’ve been banned from your cattle runs.’

  Emily felt the impact of the news like a blow. An awful silence followed. Luke desperately tried to fill in the gaps.

  ‘They got word through on the sat-phone tonight. Emily, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’

  Around her the night-bush murmured and beside her the river tumbled by. Far from here, in the plush carpeted rooms of Parliament House, a group of men and women in suits had just altered Emily Flanaghan’s life, and reset her daughters’ futures forever, with one stroke of a pen.

  Were they really losing their cattle runs? Emily’s eyes closed. After all that had happened. After finally coming home to the mountains. Her whole body shook as Luke drew her into his arms. Stroking her hair, he held her close as her tears soaked into his blue singlet. She could smell him, all clean from a river swim. Then he was kissing her tears away, and despite her grief, desire flowed through her and she began to kiss him back. She sought comfort in the warmth of Luke’s kiss, the wetness of his mouth. She wanted to forget everything: the bans, the loss of her land, the empty, uncertain future. She just wanted to lose herself in him, there beside the river. They began to peel away each other’s clothing and she felt the warm night air on her naked breasts.

  She moaned when his bare chest pressed against hers and she began to cry again. He made a gentle sound to soothe her, then lifted her chin and kissed her softly, until the passion was rekindled. They began to kiss harder. Her breath in flutters, Emily slid her fingers to Luke’s belt buckle, undoing it, then releasing the button of his jeans. All the while they kissed and kissed as the river slid by.

  Luke kicked off his jeans and pulled Emily’s shorts down over her strong, firm legs. They lay naked, pressed together, hands roving all over each other’s bodies. Desire coming as quickened breath. Luke gently pushed Emily’s hair from her face as he kissed her on her forehead, behind her ears, over her shoulders and her breasts. He pulled her beneath him and looked deep into her eyes, hesitating.

  ‘Don’t stop,’ Emily pleaded.

  As he pushed into her, Emily cast her head back, wanting this, wanting him more than anything.

  He moaned as he felt her warmth and murmured, ‘You’re so beautiful, Emily.’

  Emily ran her hands along Luke’s back and reached for his firm backside. She pulled him into her, deeper and then deeper still, breathing in the smell of him, pressing her face into the soft hollow of his neck. She was carried on the crest of a wave of desire as they moved as one, faster and faster, and she clenched her teeth as she felt herself coming, stifling her scream. What they were doing felt illicit, like an affair. A betrayal to her clan. Luke, too, held his cry inwards as he came. They were each fraternising with the enemy. It was exciting. It was scary. It was confusing. But, Emily thought, as Luke gently kissed her gently over her face, it was also beautiful.

  She didn’t want to think of what lay ahead. She just wanted to preserve this moment for all time. She lay in Luke’s arms, not speaking, gazing deep into his eyes in the faint moonlight as his fingertips drifted over her skin. Eventually, still wrapped tight in each other’s arms, they fell asleep.

  In the depth of darkness just before the dawn, the sound of screaming woke them. It wasn’t a human scream but something more guttural, like a terrified horse. Luke and Emily sat bolt upright. There was no sign of Rousie. Emily panicked. She couldn’t breathe, the terror keeping air from her lungs. It was as if her ribs had been crushed all over again. Upstream they could hear the deafening sound of horses thundering along the river stones at full gallop. The crack of hooves on rock was unmistakable.

  ‘The horses!’ Emily said. ‘Something must’ve spooked them.’

  The horrible scream came again, like a stallion roaring for his mares. A wind came howling towards them downstream along the tunnel of the riverbed, creating an awful moaning sound, like a man gone ma
d. The gust hit them with a cold fury and whipped the trees about, so that bark and grey fingerbone limbs were flung around them. Emily and Luke grabbed for their clothes, the sound of the horses’ hooves bearing down on them getting louder and louder. If they didn’t move fast, they would be trampled. They dressed as quickly as they could, scrambling up the bank and sprinting towards the campsite to wake the others.

  But when they emerged from the thickets, trembling and gasping for air, they were met by stillness and silence. They looked about. No one stirred. The air was calm. The horses all dozed peacefully on the nightlines.

  From the heart of the camp, Rousie came towards them, cowering as he walked, his tail jammed between his legs. He whined and whimpered and pressed his wet nose into Emily’s palm, as if to apologise for leaving her side.

  ‘What was that?’ Luke asked in a whisper.

  ‘I don’t know. I mean, it was horses. Obviously. Galloping in the riverbed.’

  ‘Are these all your horses?’ he said, pointing to the cattlemen’s mounts. Emily nodded. ‘Surely they’d be going nuts by now. They must’ve been able to hear or smell the other horses.’

  A little way off they could make out the white faces of the cattle, all camped quietly behind the tape of a white electric fence, many of them lying down and chewing cud.

  ‘Were they brumbies, do you think?’ Luke asked.

  Emily shook her head.

  ‘There aren’t any brumbies in this area. Maybe over Mansfield way, but none here – certainly not a whole mob like that.’ She reached out for Luke’s hand. ‘Luke, I’m scared.’

  He pulled her to him and she pressed her face against his warm body.

  ‘I know. It’s pretty freaky.’

  He began to stroke her hair. It gave her a little comfort, the memory of their lovemaking coming to her again. He pulled back from her.

  ‘I’m so sorry, I’m going to have to go now. It’s nearly dawn.’

  ‘Yes,’ Emily said, suddenly remembering their situation.

  He reached down to kiss her quickly on the lips.

  ‘I’ll see you again?’

  It was a question more than a statement and it sowed a tiny seed of doubt in Emily’s heart. Then he was gone, jogging along the grassy flat towards the rangers’ campsite at the homestead.

  Emily sat in her tent, her knees hugged to her chest, feeling the swell of mixed emotion in her. Fear, passion, devastation. She waited for daylight, knowing she would have to deliver the news that parliament had voted to ban alpine grazing. She curled up in a ball, dragging a jumper over her shoulders, and began to doze.

  Before long she was woken by noises outside the tent. Bacon and eggs sizzled, billies boiled, tea stewed and the clank and clatter of tent poles rang out as the campers packed up in the blue morning light. It was time to get droving and as saddle bags were stuffed with food, water bottles filled and buckets carried from the creek to the horses for a drink, Emily took comfort from the normality of the scene. She went to bash on the flimsy walls of Bridie’s tent, pitched nearby.

  ‘What?’ came a deep voice within.

  ‘Sam? What are you doing in there?’

  ‘Got lost, didn’t I,’ he said.

  ‘Only packed one tent,’ came Bridie’s voice.

  ‘Bridie,’ Emily said, ‘get your bodacious arse out here! I really need to talk to you.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Bridie, ‘I’m busting for a bush wee anyway.’

  ‘Oh, noiyce,’ said Sam. ‘She’s all class this bush chook.’

  Emily heard a whack and then an ‘ouch’ from Sam.

  ‘Don’t smack me.’

  ‘That’s not what you said last night,’ Bridie said.

  ‘Oh please,’ said Emily. ‘This is serious.’

  Bridie, dishevelled but glowing, finally emerged from the tent wearing a red satin nightie with black lace trim lining her over-ripe bosom.

  ‘You brought that camping?’ Emily said, momentarily distracted from the news she was about to tell.

  Bridie looked down at herself. ‘Worked, though, didn’t it?’

  The girls drew each other into a quick hug and laughed. Then concern flashed on Emily’s face.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Bridie asked, pulling back.

  Emily could barely say the words. Sam poked his head out of the tent, looking up at his sister.

  ‘Luke came to find me last night,’ she began, ‘to tell me parliament’s passed the Bill. It’s now legislation that we can’t graze cattle up on our runs.’

  Sam disappeared into the tent and quickly dragged on his clothes. ‘Well, they’ve finally gone and done it. After all these years.’

  ‘I know. Can you believe it?’ Emily said. ‘All that time and effort, and for what?’

  ‘Does Dad know?’ Sam said. Emily shook her head, looking skyward. ‘How do I explain how I found out? That I’ve been over in the Parkies’ camp being sociable?’

  Bridie shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter it came from Luke.’

  ‘Oh, I think now it might,’ Emily said.

  ‘I’ll tell him,’ Sam said. ‘I’ll go now. You girls get packed up. We’ve got to be out of here in an hour.’

  Bridie and Emily set out towards the place where Emily and Luke had slept. The sun had still not risen far enough above the hill to touch the riverbank. Emily shivered as they walked through the trees.

  ‘Last night …’ she began. ‘There’s something else I have to tell you about.’

  Bridie turned to look at her.

  ‘Something really weird happened.’ Emily told the story of the sound of galloping horses and the deafening roar and the wild wind. Bridie was about to make a joke, but when she saw Emily’s frightened face and heard the way her voice trembled, she drew Emily into a hug.

  ‘Some really weird things have been happening to me since my accident, Bridie. I’ve been seeing stuff. And hearing stuff. And my head, it’s as if I don’t think the same as I used to.’

  ‘What kind of stuff do you see and hear?’

  ‘You know. Things from the past. Weird things like the horses. But also people.’

  ‘You mean, like, “I see dead people”?’ Bridie whispered, taking off the line from the movie The Sixth Sense.

  ‘Yeah. Kind of.’

  ‘Oh, well,’ said Bridie with false bravado, ‘that’s normal after such a big trauma. You know, your near-death thingy. You just need a bit of time.’

  ‘I think I’m going mad.’

  At that point they walked out through the ti-trees and there, lying open on the grass, was Emily’s swag. She walked into the cold river water and waded upstream. There was no sign of hoof prints. No sign of limbs being torn down by the violent wind. She waded back downstream and looked at Bridie with a questioning expression.

  ‘You must’ve just dreamed it, Em,’ Bridie said gently.

  ‘But,’ Emily said frantically, ‘Luke was here too. He heard it too!’

  Bridie shivered. ‘C’mon, darls. Let’s have a quick wash and get back to the others. I’ll fix you up so you’ll look real flash on that beautiful horse of yours today. Despite what those city dickheads have done, today can be a celebration, the end of a beautiful era. Don’t let them ruin your day or your life. See it as a positive. It’s almost a relief that it’s over. No more fighting. No more protests.’

  As Emily dunked herself into the fresh, freezing water, she gasped. But her goosebumps weren’t just from cold, they were also from fear. She wanted to feel exhilarated about being with Luke. But it was all so clouded now. Their new love had been overshadowed by their terrifying night, and the cold hard fact that she was now an evicted cattleman’s daughter, and he, a park ranger. Emily splashed ice-cold river water over her face again and again, and tried, as best she could, to wash the memory of Luke and the night away.

  PART THREE

  Twenty-five

  Gradually the days grew shorter on the Dargo High Plains and there came a chill in the evening air. Winter was approachin
g and it was time to move the cattle from the alpine runs and down to the lower slopes of the mountains. This time the job was weighted with sadness for Emily and her family, because it would be the last of their mustering and droving trips.

  Emily stood up in the stirrups, dropping Snowgum’s reins.

  ‘Saaaaalt!’ she called across the empty plain. ‘Saaaalt!’

  Sam repeated the cry from his bay brumby. Their voices reached out over the snowgrass clearing and through the twisted white branches of the trees. Flo and Rod joined in the cattlemen’s cry.

  Away in the bush, the cattle turned their heads and flicked their ears in the direction of the sound. As the calls came again, cows lowed gently to calves and tossed their heads as an indication to move, some mothers bunting their large babies impatiently. As the cries of ‘salt’ continued, the Herefords began to move faster through the bush, reaching a jog, crashing through the ti-tree and ducking under low-slung snowgum branches.

  On the salting plain, Emily heard them coming. It was always so rewarding to see the healthy, round-bellied cows emerge from the snowgums.

  On the grass at the cattle camp there were bare patches where the Flanaghans had laid salt piles in the summer season and the cattle had persistently licked at the salt until it was all gone. The soil up top was salt-deficient, so to keep the stock in good health and to make them quiet and obedient to their calls, salting was a regular practice for the cattlemen.

  Emily normally loved salting in rain, hail or shine. But today she was wracked with sadness. This would be the last time they mustered this run, the last time the call of salt would ring out across the high plains. This land was now a ‘park’.

  She felt the presence of her forebears. They would’ve seen the same sights, conducted the same process, with gear not much different from her own, the salt wrapped in hessian sacks, rolled and tied to the front of the saddle.