The Cattleman's Daughter

by Rachael Treasure

  What the skiers never saw was the massive scarring their winter follies left behind. They were never up here in the summer to see the way the land was compacted so that the vegetation struggled to grow. Even when the snow melted and the soil was watered back to life and warmed by the sun, vegetation that should have been shooting to green remained brown and undernourished.

  She could see the scars of roads, and runways of an airport, and soon a pipeline for a sewage-treatment plant and dams for more water supplies would mar the mountain. She could see the sharp angles of roofs of private villas huddled round cul-de-sacs like transported suburbs. She turned her horse away.

  ‘C’mon, girls, let’s go light a fire and have a hot drink. We’re almost there.’

  Despite a new VPP sign declaring everything was now banned from the land, including domestic animals, firearms and fires, they continued on towards a brand-new bright yellow boomgate. It hurt Emily to see it there. It was a lairy pronouncement that this land was now managed from afar, in Melbourne, and she and her children and her animals were no longer welcome here. She set Snowgum at a canter and, leading Bonus, jumped over the low rail. The girls’ ponies, small enough to squeeze around the strainer post and a boulder, followed their mother, Meg’s knee catching on the post.

  ‘Why’d they put that there?’ Meg said in annoyance.

  ‘Because a man in Melbourne said they had to,’ Emily answered.

  They rode on a way down the eastern ridge until the snow got so deep they opted to turn back towards her grandparents’ reserve. Emily had wanted to see the plain where she and Sam had last salted cattle but she decided it best to keep closer to the ridgetop. The weather could close in at any moment.

  On the ride back up to the boomgate Emily ducked off the track. There she pointed out a sign her dad had made.

  ‘It says, Flanaghan Reserve Number Five,’ Emily explained.

  ‘What’s a reverse?’ Tilly said.

  ‘A reserve,’ Emily corrected. ‘It’s an area of land protected from people and some animals, to help keep it healthy. This one is a sensitive spring that we don’t want four-wheel drives or cattle or people in.’

  ‘Why is it a five?’ asked Meg.

  ‘Because it’s the fifth reserve your great-grandparents set up. They made ten reserves all up over this mountain.’

  Emily’s grandparents had opted to enclose special areas of the mountains nearly sixty years earlier, long before the term ‘conservation’ was thought of in government departments. In some places the fences had also kept the four-wheel drive enthusiasts at bay, who seemed to like to carve their vehicles through boggy patches, steep slopes prone to erosion and river crossings just for fun. While the cattle might never return to this ridgeline, the four-wheel drives that came in their hundreds from the city and surrounding regions were still permitted into the Park in summer time. Preservation of the economy at all costs, thought Emily wryly of the government rules that encouraged spending.

  As they rode towards the reserve, Emily was disappointed to see a tree had recently fallen, knocking a fence post sideways. The reserve’s fence wire lay slack, flung back against the earth. Emily drew her horses up.

  ‘Shall we fix it for old Pa and Ma?’

  Tilly and Meg nodded.

  ‘It shouldn’t take long,’ Emily said, glancing up to the sky, knowing the rough weather would eventually come.

  The girls dismounted and tethered their ponies as she lit them a small fire and put the billy on it, scooping up clean snow and placing it inside the tin. She set out cups and filled each with a spoonful or three of Milo and a dash of sugar.

  With the girls settled and drinking happily, Emily examined the damage done by the fallen tree. Soon the sound of her chainsaw cut through the air, shattering the peace of the mountainside as she severed the twisted old snowgum from the fence. As it cracked and splintered away and she kicked it with her boot, she saw that the old post her grandfather would’ve dug into the ground was shattered.

  ‘Bugger,’ she said. A new one was needed. The job would take a little longer. Still, Tilly and Meg were warm by the fire and it was a while before dark. They had a good two hours’ ride back to the house, but the horses were fit now and well used to the cold, as were the girls. She also knew there was a hut just half an hour’s ride down the eastern slope should they really get stuck.

  Emily cast her eye about. No suitable trees on the former cattlemen’s side of the Park. One was too twisted. One would split at the knot. The others were too small or too big. She took an axe and the chainsaw and soon found her tree. It was close handy, the perfect diameter. She set about to fell the tree.

  Rousie pinned his ears down as the chainsaw droned away. The noise was enough to mask the sound of an approaching vehicle which had pulled up at the boomgate. A man got out to unlock it.

  By the time the tree fell with a loud crash that echoed out across the massive valley below, the ranger’s vehicle, with chains on the wheels, had rolled to a stop not far from the campfire. As Emily cut the chainsaw engine she heard the sound of doors slamming. She looked up, startled.

  She breathed in sharply when she saw it was Luke and felt excitement and horror buzz through her. Then she noticed the older VPP man, the red-haired one, who’d been at the Wonnangatta, with a very serious look on his face. She was about to call out a greeting but she saw how Luke avoided her eye, busily pulling on his coat, a hat, and gloves, grabbing a notebook from his pocket.

  Together the men made their way towards her, following the snow tracks made by the horses. They looked so official and serious, marching through the trees.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ asked the older man.

  Emily was about to begin explanations and excuses when she felt the earth pulse beneath her boots and a warmth radiate through her body with a fiery strength. She thought of Evie, and her great-grandmothers, Emily Flanaghan and Joan Flanaghan. She held her head high and in a strong but friendly voice said, ‘What am I doing? Why, I’m introducing myself to you in the polite, old fashioned way, as bushmen always do,’ Emily held out her hand. ‘Emily Flanaghan, very pleased to meet you, Mr …?’

  The man looked down at her hand as if it stank of dead fish.

  Luke intercepted. ‘Emily, this is Mr Kelvin Grimsley, acting region manager for the VPP.’

  Luke couldn’t believe his luck and his misfortune combined. It was wonderful to see Emily again, looking so beautiful and strong. She was decked out in an oilskin. Under her hat, her face shone from good health, her lips pink and kissable in the cold.

  Her daughters reflected their mother’s self-contained competency as they sat on logs by the fire, but they were looking at him and Kelvin with wide possum eyes, clearly scared their mother was in trouble. Luke saw the gelding he had sold her was laden with packs, work fit but well fed, standing calmly hitched to a tree.

  But how awful to find Emily on Park land with a freshly fallen tree at her feet and his boss from Melbourne by his side. Luke swallowed nervously. He could tell it was going to get ugly.

  When they’d first spotted the little girls sitting beside the campfire, Kelvin had spat out his horror to Luke.

  ‘Fancy bringing children out under such dangerous conditions! She must be mad. And to cut down a tree on Park land! That just confirms everything I know about the cattlemen. I even think it’s the same woman who hid the cattle from us in the Wonnangatta. A typical Flanaghan. Trouble!’

  Now Kelvin stood in front of Emily, casting daggers with his gaze. ‘You do know it’s an offence to fell trees in a national park?’

  Luke had sympathised with Emily, but some of the stories Kelvin had told him about the cattlemen’s antics, and the scientific data on grazing he’d given Luke to read, had almost convinced Luke their eviction was just a necessary change. But now, seeing Emily in this world, Luke just knew she and her girls belonged here.

  He looked at his boss and the word ‘wanker’ came to mind. Luke had spent the day w
ith Kelvin Grimsley at a VPP luncheon-conference on the Hotham snowfields. Although the High Plains Road over to Dargo was closed due to snow, Kelvin had insisted he travel over it with Luke as part of Luke’s four-wheel-drive training component. Kelvin was proud to announce that, as VPP-registered staff, they were permitted access to the snowfall areas of the Dargo High Plains in a time of closure.

  Luke knew Kelvin’s role as acting region manager was coming to an end soon and he was making the most of it. Kelvin had talked several times about the benefits of having a vehicle and time to travel about away from his Melbourne desk. He’d also been crowing about the trip to Wonnangatta, the fine process still underway, and about the new legislation and plans for the Park.

  Because Kelvin had appointed Luke, he’d taken him under his wing. Luke endured Kelvin’s condescending mentoring with good humour, in the same way he’d endured Cassy’s bossings. He reasoned it was only for a couple of days and soon Kelvin would return to Melbourne, slipping back down the ladder. Luke would then be left in peace in his new job, which so far seemed to involve a lot of driving to the Heyfield office and not so much work out in the bush.

  He’d met some nice VPP colleagues at the conference, confirming there were some really bright people in the organisation, people around his age, who were fun and enthusiastic about their work. They’d all filled their bellies with food and enjoyed a couple of glasses of wine before Kelvin announced it was time for them to leave. The road back towards Dargo was reasonable until they reached Mount Freezeout, where snow had begun to thicken, and the tyres started spinning, even in the four-wheel drive. Kelvin was clearly excited to get the new chains out from his off-road kit.

  ‘We’ll be late getting home tonight,’ he said to Luke. ‘But don’t worry. You’ll be paid overtime.’

  Luke cast Kelvin a glance. It had never crossed his mind he should be paid extra for being late. On the farm, they worked until dark or beyond until the job was done, and there was no talk of overtime. At the VPP, everyone reminded him to work exactly seven hours and thirty-six minutes a day. Apparently the extra six minutes earned him a RDO every fortnight. But Luke couldn’t understand the prompt laying down of tools once the clock ticked over, even if the job was an hour shy of getting done. There’d been no rostered days off on the land.

  As they inched their way over Lanky’s Plain, where the snow lay thickest, Luke had pointed out the smoke curling up from the trees into the clear winter-blue sky.

  Now, Kelvin continued to stare coldly at Emily and she returned his stare, not with contempt but with pride.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious what I’m doing?’ she said, gesturing to the broken fence. ‘I cut a tree down because I needed a new post. For the reserve.’

  ‘I’ll say again, it’s an offence to cut down a tree from a national park,’ Kelvin said.

  Emily looked at him incredulously and then to Luke for help, but his eyes, she thought, regarded her with impartiality.

  ‘I’m hardly likely to duck down to Bunnings to get a post, am I?’ she said. ‘Not when there’s a perfect one just there in the bush!’

  ‘You are not responsible for fencing in this area,’ said Kelvin.

  Emily looked again at Luke but his eyes would not meet hers. Was he just going to stand there and say nothing?

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said, the anger creeping into her voice, ‘but I am responsible for this fence. My grandparents put in that reserve to protect the spring in that thicket there. I figure it’s my responsibility to preserve my family’s work and to protect the spring.’

  ‘Your family no longer has any claim over this land,’ Kelvin said with satisfaction. He’d had years of battling these cattlemen from his offices. To now be out in the field with one and experiencing their arrogance again was enough to make his blood boil.

  ‘I don’t want claim over this land,’ Emily shot back. ‘I just want to care for it.’

  ‘Care for it by cutting down trees?’ Kelvin said. ‘You cattlemen only pretend to be environmentalists. If you really cared for the high country, you’d take your kids, your horses and your cattle and you’d get off this mountain!’

  Emily’s mouth dropped open.

  ‘You arsehole,’ she said, the words escaping before she could stuff them back in. She saw his jaw clench and a flash of hatred on his face.

  Kelvin steered Luke away from her, talking quietly. Luke nodded, frowning, and wrote something down in a notebook.

  They came back.

  ‘If you continue to abuse me, this will become a matter for the police,’ Kelvin said. ‘Plus, you have endangered the lives of your children by bringing them into such remote and rugged conditions when the Park is closed. It begs the question whether you are fit to be mothering these children at all.’

  Emily was speechless with rage. Didn’t this man know that the Flanaghans had taken their children all over this mountain for generations? Didn’t he know that some of the boys were packing horses in the snow to help get mail and supplies through to hungry miners from as young as nine years of age?

  How dare he insinuate that she was risking her children! She knew they were safe. She had plans and provisions for every scenario. She had her animals with her too, and they had the best bushman skills of all. Rousie and her horses would guide her home no matter what. She stood with fury lighting the ends of every nerve so that her clenched fists quivered like live fish on hooks.

  Kelvin stepped back. ‘Now, my colleague, Mr Bradshaw, will inform you of the Park breaches you face.’

  And Luke, ashen-faced, began to read from his notebook. She looked at the face she once thought was beautiful and the lips she had kissed and dreamed of kissing again, as he read in a monotone voice.

  ‘Dogs are prohibited on Park land. You will be fined for breaching this regulation under Park policy. You will incur a fine for riding horses on Park land without an out-of-season permit. You are in serious breach of Park policy in the felling of a tree. That too will incur a fine. You are in breach of Park safety venturing into an area that is closed to the public. The presence of children here is also a serious act of negligence and the police and family services will be informed of this. The lighting of fires in a non-designated campfire area is also a breach of Park policy. The total of these infringements will amount to $2,312, pending a hearing.’ He then began to read her her rights.

  Emily listened, her mouth open. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing from Luke’s lips. When he had finished, he tried to maintain his steely look, but Emily was sure she could see shame on his face. He wouldn’t look her in the eye. She felt the fury rise within her. An icy breeze whirled snow about and brought with it a white mist that blanketed everything about them. Emily stood with the anger and distress swirling in her.

  ‘How can you do this? How can you be like this?’ she said softly, the question more to Luke than Kelvin. She was devastated. She was only trying to do the right thing by the land, by the people who had cared for the land before her. She paid her taxes. She respected others. And she truly did care for the land. How could Kelvin Grimsley say that cattlemen weren’t environmentalists, when most of her family had lived as environmentalists long before it became trendy to do so? Yet here she was being treated like a criminal in her own sacred place. And here was Luke, siding with Kelvin and kicking her when she was lower than low. For weeks she’d heard nothing from Clancy – as if his girls didn’t exist. His lack of support for Emily still stung her. Now here was Luke treating her the same way. Did the fact they had been lovers count for nothing? She called out to Meg and Tilly. ‘C’mon, girls. Let’s leave these gentlemen to their Park.’

  ‘You’ll be hearing from us, Ms Flanaghan,’ Kelvin Grimsley said.

  As the weather worsened, he retreated to the warmth of the four-wheel-drive cab and waited for Luke to join him. But Luke remained out in the freezing snowfall, wanting to help Emily pack away her gear on the horse they held in common. But the immense pressure of feeling his superior’s ey
es watching his every move held him back. Yet the image he saw over and over in his head was the devastation on Emily’s face. He was furious with himself for being so weak. He could see both sides now: Kelvin doing a job he truly believed in, whether it was wrong or right; and Emily, evicted from a place that was in her heart. He’d seen her as the girl who’d be the answer to his drifting. He thought they had the land in common, the horses in common and, when they’d made love that night at Wonnangatta, their souls in common too, but now he wondered if he’d burned a bridge forever.

  Sadly, he watched as Emily’s girls efficiently put out their fire, packed the billy and pannikins onto their saddlebags and swung up onto their ponies. Emily quickly stashed her tools into Bonus’s packs and expertly hitched the packs tight again. He could tell by the way she jerked the straps that she was furious. Then she lobbed up onto Snowgum. She grabbed up her reins and rode right past Luke, nearly knocking him over. She set her eyes on the man in the vehicle and he stared back at her with contempt.

  Luke couldn’t help it. He called out after her, ‘It’s a near white-out. Will you be right to find your own way back?’

  ‘More right than you’ll be,’ Emily said bitterly, knowing she should guide them back to the main road in this weather but too angry to offer. And she kicked Snowgum into a canter and popped her and Bonus over the boomgate. Her girls, in a rush of bravado, followed their mother at the jump, the littlest pony just clipping the yellow boom with the tip of her nearside rear hoof. Then they jogged away as fast as they could in the snow, keen to leave the strict and scary men behind. As they veered left off the track into the snowgums, Emily fought back tears. But she had little time to let the emotions get the better of her. It was a total white-out. They couldn’t see more than a metre in front of their horses. Stuff them, she thought. Emily tugged her hat down low and flipped her collar up. She smiled. She knew if she simply gave Snowgum her head, the old mare would guide them all safely home on the winding bridle tracks.