‘The man’s an idiot. What does Joanne see in –’ Lucy stopped short.
Tammy smiled. ‘Yes, I know. What did I see in him? But he wasn’t always like that.’
‘You want to make a bet?’ muttered Lucy as she swung back upwards on her pole.
Tammy gave her friend a sharp look but chose to ignore the last comment. ‘Anyway, I need to keep the cow numbers up to get enough milk to pay the bills. I need the extra land to sustain the cows and Jock and Barb to help me. So there you have it. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.’
‘Not if I’ve got anything to do with it,’ said Lucy. ‘I’m finding you a bitch of a solicitor – and fast.’
A few days later Tammy found herself sitting in front of a female solicitor, a practitioner from Melbourne who visited Narree once a month. Hilary Stratton was a silver-haired woman who looked and acted like a frumpy middle-aged shark. Obviously her parents hadn’t believed in dental work, if the row of huge teeth protruding from a squared-off jaw was anything to go by.
But she knew her stuff. My word she did.
‘And so, Ms McCauley, how long had you been married?’ Her eyes focused on a pad of paper, placed perfectly in front of her, rather than on her client.
‘Ten years.’
‘Any children from the union?’
‘No . . . no . . . there weren’t. We would have liked them but –’
‘What did you both bring to the marriage in the beginning?’
‘Well, just ourselves really.’ Tammy stopped. The woman opposite her was frowning at the piece of green legal paper sitting on the big desk between them. Her pen wasn’t moving. She was probably wondering what Tammy was doing here if they didn’t have anything to fight over. Tammy took a deep breath and went on, ‘But then my grandparents died soon after we married and I inherited the family property – Montmorency Downs. We bought a run-off block two years ago, after taking a mortgage out on the farm.’
The pen started moving once more. ‘So what contribution did you both make in the last decade to the accumulated wealth of the marriage?’
‘What contribution?’ Tammy paused again. ‘Well, he worked on the farm since we married and then after my grandparents died . . .’
And so it went on, until there was nothing more to tell and Tammy felt like a wrung-out sponge. She sat back in the chair.
‘Well, Ms McCauley, on consideration of what you have told me today, my advice to you is simple.’ Hilary Stratton put down her pen and looked up at Tammy for the first time, peering over her bifocal glasses.
‘Yes?’ said Tammy, leaning forwards.
‘Do a property settlement and put everything on the market . . . That’s unless you can afford to buy out your husband’s interests in the marriage some other way?’
Tammy reeled back. ‘Sell Montmorency Downs? But –’
‘My dear, even though Mr Murphy will most likely only be awarded no more than twenty per cent of the value of both properties, due to the fact you can’t afford to pay him out, you will have to liquidate the assets.’ The woman peeled off her glasses, seemingly unaware of the blow she’d just struck. ‘If a party in a property settlement in dissolution of the marriage is awarded a cash settlement he or she can force the sale of the properties in question in order to liquidate the assets.’
Tammy sat stunned. Is that what a hundred and fifty years of history was labelled? Just assets?
‘Of course you will get the bulk of the proceeds of the sale.’
She didn’t want the money. She just wanted the land. Her land. Her family’s heritage, her heart, her soul. Home.
‘My aunt’s fanny!’ shrieked Lucy. ‘She said sell up? Get outta here! She was supposed to be a total bitch.’
‘She was. And apparently it’s all “very simple” seeing there are no children,’ said Tammy taking another bite out of her chicken and avocado sandwich. It tasted awful. She spat it out into her napkin and pushed the plate away. ‘If I can’t raise the cash another way, it’s liquidate the assets, pay him out and move on.’
‘So, what are you going to do? I mean, I wish I had the money to give you,’ Lucy held her hands out towards Tammy. ‘I really do, but I’m doing overtime just to pay off my little house, let alone a whole farm!’
Tammy took Lucy’s chubby fingers and gave them a squeeze – a silent thank-you. She shrugged, determined not to give in to the tears that had been threatening since she left the solicitor’s office. ‘Hilary’s also going to try and find out what he’s done with my inheritance money, but that’s only a drop in the ocean compared to what I need. I can’t see a way out of this one, Luce. Last time, when the creditors came sniffing around after Grandpa Tom and Mae died, I didn’t have as much debt and I had Shon to help me pay the money that was owing. This time . . .’ Tammy broke off, unable to continue.
‘If only you hadn’t bought that other place!’
‘Shon really needed it. Wanted his name on a title.’
‘And look where that’s got you!’ Luce stopped.
Tammy was well aware of where Shon had got her.
‘Here’s your medication, Joe,’ called Tammy, stomping up the verandah steps a while later.
‘And a mighty fine day to you too,’ said Joe. ‘What’s got your gander?’
‘Nothing.’ Tammy slammed the paper bag down on the wide verandah rail and turned away to calm herself. It wouldn’t do any good for Joe to see how upset she was. She gazed out across the mountains and drank in the view. She looked down below McCauley’s Hill and saw Montmorency Downs, her beautiful and historic farm. What was the old saying? One generation to make it, the next to use it, the following to lose it. Damn it, she couldn’t lose the farm. What would she do?
‘Got to get home. Jock’s milking for me. Do you need anything else this week? Luce delivered your groceries, didn’t she?’
‘Yes. The batty Ms Granger has been and gone.’
‘Lucy is not batty. She’s just different.’
‘Argh,’ Joe snorted. ‘We’re different. She’s a veritable fruitcake.’
Despite herself Tammy couldn’t help but smile. ‘A nice fruitcake though.’
Joe paused and peered out across the flats below, as if thinking of something to say. Eventually, ‘Yes, well, I suppose you could say that – one with plenty of nuts. You seen Hunter lately?’
Tammy quickly turned, not quite subduing the blush she could feel blooming on her cheeks. She caught a funny look in the old man’s eyes before he flicked his gaze away. A knowing sort of look. ‘No, why?’ she asked.
‘No reason. Just wonderin’.’
Chapter 28
It was four o’clock when Trav finally drove out of Grayden Horton’s front gate, heading for home. It’d been a busy week trying to juggle everything. This morning he’d been up before daylight and he’d hoped to be home by now, but unfortunately duty called. Grayden ran a sheep property above Lake Grace and he’d lost six pure-bred ewes to a dog over the past week. He wasn’t a happy man.
The dog they were tracking was grabbing the sheep on the left shoulder, going for the throat, barrelling the animal down, and then eating the fat off the brisket, leaving the maimed sheep to die a horrible death.
A dog usually didn’t live too far from what they were attacking, and Trav should have been able to track it reasonably easily. But this one was doing his head in. Just when he thought he had the bastard all worked out, it would evade him and Trav was back to square one. However, as he swung the ute towards home, he had to admit to himself this was why he loved being a dog trapper. Here it wasn’t about maintaining a fence, it was about pitting his skills against an animal’s. A wily and clever dog.
Beside him the mobile phone rang suddenly. He pulled to the side of the gravel road and picked it up. ‘Hunter speaking.’
‘Trav?’
He drew in a deep breath. It was
the unmistakable voice of the woman who didn’t want to have anything to do with him. He cleared his throat, ‘Speaking.’
‘Thank heavens I got you. I’ve been trying all day,’ said Tammy.
‘What’s up?’
There was something desperate in her tone. An edge he’d never heard before, not even on that God-awful night in the Lake Grace hall.
‘I’ve lost two calves, Trav. Heifer calves. I think it was a dog. You should see the mess! It’s terrible . . .’ Her voice trailed off. Then a soft plea. ‘Can you come?’
That morning Tammy had swung the motorbike into the calving paddock. She was desperate to get these calves on the ground, and hoping for a good drop of heifers. She had her eyes on the dairy heifer export market, where they were making really good money. And thinking of her discussion with the solicitor, she knew she needed every cent she could get.
The sight that greeted her in the paddock was extraordinary. Two cows, out on their own, one bellowing and carrying on, the other standing over what looked like a lump of red raw meat in the lush grass.
Tammy pulled up in front of the animal that was now nudging at the mound, only to stop and gag. The lump of raw meat was a baby calf. Completely skinned.
The mother was standing over her baby, lowing softly, nudging the sinewy mess, trying to get it to move. Then, as Tammy watched, she took a last deeply mournful bellow, stepped away from the remains of her baby and ambled across the paddock towards the rest of the herd.
Tammy got off the bike and peered at the body, tears pouring down her cheeks. The perfectly formed little hooves were completely clean. Not a mark of grass or dirt. The poor little sod hadn’t even hit the ground. The dog had been waiting for it as it left its mother’s uterus. The bastard!
Tammy spun around and kicked out at the motorbike tyre in frustration. Only to spot another bloody carcass. But this one was still moving, which explained why the other cow was going berserk.
The newborn Friesian heifer had been skinned too. Bite marks punctured the area around its neck, and the hide had been peeled back like a jumper. The poor little baby was still alive.
Running back to the bike, Tammy gunned the engine and sped back towards the dairy to where she kept the gun safe. Grabbing her .22 rifle and some ammunition she roared back to the paddock and the tortured animal. It was still trying to live without a skin. She loaded the gun, pointed it, pulled the trigger.
‘So what’s happened here is the dog has come in and gone for the neck. See the bite marks?’ said Trav dispassionately as he walked around the pitiful remains. ‘It’s then stood on the back end to hold the calf and skinned it. It’s started to eat the poor little bugger straight away but I’d say you’ve disturbed it and it’s taken off.’
Tammy shuddered. It was appalling. And she still had at least thirty cows to calve down. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’ she asked, trying to stop the slight sound of hysteria she knew was threaded through her voice. She’d been telling herself to remain cool and calm but her vocal chords weren’t listening to her brain. She felt like she wanted to murder someone or something! It had certainly driven worries about Shon and the property out of her mind. There was that.
‘By the way it’s attacking, I’m guessing this isn’t the same dog having a crack at Grayden Horton’s ewes.’
Tammy gasped. There was more than one dog killing?!
Trav looked up at her with his vivid blue eyes. ‘You okay?’
Tammy nearly came undone at the kindness in his gaze. Damn it! Just when she needed him to be prickly so she could hate him, he went all caring and George Clooney on her. All she needed now was that half-smile and –
Trav gave a half-smile in sympathy. ‘We’ll get him, Tammy. Don’t worry. Are you sure you’re okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ she muttered roughly. ‘I’ve had a difficult week and this just tops it right off.’
‘Mmm . . . yes, well, you get that.’ His voice was flat, the half-smile gone in a flash. The stern look had returned with a vengeance.
Aha! So the wild man was back. Bring it on.
‘I reckon he’s come from that long ridge line up there past old Joe’s place,’ said Trav. He waved an arm out towards McCauley’s Hill. ‘Dogs are lazy like humans so they travel the easiest route. Long spurs are a favourite entry point. The breeze would be coming up on either side of that ridge so he could smell what’s around.’
‘I haven’t noticed anything amiss. What sort of stuff should I be looking for?’ Tammy was desperately trying to match Trav’s matter-of-fact tone.
‘Dog prints, turds, scratches, drag marks. I’ll go for a wander and see if I can spot anything along your boundary. Billy said he saw a dog the other week when he stayed at Joe’s, the night of the dance.’
Tammy dropped her gaze, dug a few divots in the dirt with the toe of her boot. She didn’t want Trav to see the disappointment and the need, which she knew would be blazing in her eyes. God, she wished she could have said yes to whatever it was he’d been offering that night. How often over the past week had she flogged herself for pushing him away? Round and round her reasoning would go, like a Ferris wheel, until it was all-out war between her brain and her heart. The problem was this thing between them wasn’t something tangible she could reason with or reject. It was a need. A raw desire for this man that confounded and frightened her.
‘So what now?’ she asked, trying to keep to the point at hand.
Trav looked down at the meaty lump at his feet. Gave it a shove with the side of his leather boot. ‘We need to think like a dog. How would I come in? How would I do this?’
‘Will he kill again?’
‘Possibly. Depends if he’s still around or whether he’s taken off to patrol his territory.’
‘His territory?’
Trav flung a hand up to scruff at his hair. ‘Every wild dog has their own discrete area or territory which they mark with urine. On trees, tussocks, clumps of grass, whatever. They piss on everything to let other dogs know not to cross into their patch. It remains that particular dog’s territory until he dies or moves on due to lack of food.’
‘How big an area?’
‘It varies. Every dog is different. Sometimes it could be twenty to thirty square kilometres or so.’
‘Crikey. That’s a lot of travelling for one dog.’
‘Not really. He could do that in a couple of hours if he really wanted.’
‘Should I shift the stock nearer to the house? Would that help protect them?’
‘Wouldn’t be a bad idea,’ said Trav. ‘Once a dog’s inside the boundaries and killing, you know they’ve learned the lay of the land. That makes them twenty times harder to catch.’
‘So, what can you do to help me?’
Trav turned and took in the ridges leading down to Montmorency. ‘I reckon I’ll try staking him out. Maybe head down here before dawn. If I don’t get him, I’ll try setting a few traps along Boundary Track and thereabouts.’
‘Can I come?’ She needed to get onto this right away, tomorrow preferably.
‘Sure,’ he said, looking surprised.
‘I’ll meet you at your place in the morning,’ she said.
Chapter 29
They were out on Boundary Track past where old Joe’s place met the bush. Travis drove his ute with one hand on the wheel, head out the driver’s-side window checking for tracks.
‘What’re you looking for exactly?’ said Tammy, breaking the uneasy silence. They hadn’t spoken since they’d left her paddock after staking it out until the sun was well up. The dog hadn’t appeared so Travis wanted to set some traps.
‘The ground is sandy in these parts so it’s easy enough to pick out the different spoor. See these tracks?’
Tammy leaned over to look out of Trav’s window, acutely aware of the man as she did so. She tried really hard not to touc
h him but the warmth emanating from his body, his scent of earth and male were intoxicating. They drew her in like a lure. Get your mind on the job, McCauley, she reprimanded herself, pushing back towards her own seat.
Travis, in the meantime, was leaning out the window, completely oblivious, staring at spoor on the ground. ‘That’s a wombat, and that’s a deer. There’s a roo,’ he pointed to a longer track, ‘and that’s a –’ Trav suddenly stopped the ute. Got out and crouched on the ground.
He glanced up at Tammy who was lying across the seat again, looking out the doorway at what he was pointing to. ‘That’s a dog. The thing is, where has it gone?’
He stood up, looked around a bit then went to hop back in the ute, watching as she scrambled to reach her own side once again. He gave a small grin. ‘I’m not contagious. In fact, I hardly ever bite.’
Tammy’s brain went into meltdown imagining Travis Hunter biting her all over. ‘Right,’ she said, not knowing what else to say. She could feel a red-hot flush claiming her face at the way her thoughts were heading.
‘Let’s follow these tracks and see where they go.’ Travis was back in the ute and had the vehicle moving, eyes focused on the ground outside his window.
Just as well he’s distracted by that spoor, thought Tammy. She’d have a tough time explaining this furious blush away.
Travis tracked the dog to an intersection of Boundary Track and Tin Pot Creek Track. There he lost the spoor. He got out again and walked around.
Tammy bailed out of the ute with him this time but stayed a respectful – and respectable – distance away. ‘What’re you looking for?’
‘Any sign, like prints, dog shit and scratches in the earth where the ground had been torn up by a dog’s back feet,’ said Travis as he wandered around. ‘The idea is to look and see, not just look.’
He was so intent on his job, Tammy couldn’t stop herself watching him as he poked around. His body looked at one with the bush, his worn and crumpled clothes blending in among the scrub. His head was down, eyes focused on the dirt as he gracefully moved to this spot then that. It reminded her of the way he danced, movements that were methodical but with a hint of unexploded energy, some wild passion held in check. She was so attuned to what he was doing she knew immediately when he’d noticed something amiss. ‘What? What is it?’
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