Hope's Road

by Margareta Osborn

  ‘That child adores you. Idolises you. And you don’t give a jot about him. You don’t care. You’re told he’s got a hearing problem and you just walk off? When was the last time you looked at him? Really looked at him and took notice?’

  ‘Not care? Not notice him? Of course I do – I’m his father, goddammit!’

  ‘Well, it’s about time you started acting like it,’ she yelled, before storming off towards her ute.

  Trav couldn’t believe it. Everything he did was for Billy. He called after her, ‘I put a roof over his head, feed him, clothe him, send him to school.’

  Tammy spun back. ‘But you don’t show him you love him, do you, Hunter? You don’t show him you care.’

  ‘I do!’

  ‘When was the last time you hugged him? Kissed him? Ruffled his hair?’

  Trav flung a hand up to scratch at his own head. ‘I don’t kn –’

  ‘That’s my point. You don’t. That child is crying out for attention. Your attention.’

  ‘I do the best I can.’

  ‘Well, your best isn’t good enough,’ she said before walking towards her vehicle.

  ‘Tammy? Tammy! Don’t go. Help me understand.’ Trav started jogging after her, aiming to cut her off before she got into the ute. He made it just as she was opening the door. Over her shoulder he leaned in and shut it. She tried to open it again but he wouldn’t let her. ‘Tammy?’ he begged, not exactly sure why he was so desperate to stop her leaving but knew he needed her to stay. To explain why he was doing all this so wrong.

  She paused with her head down, still facing the car. He held his breath. ‘Tammy, please?’

  And still she didn’t move. Trav stepped back. But instead of opening the door of the ute, she turned to look up into his face. He was shocked to see tears in her eyes. ‘That child needs you, Trav. Especially now. I know what it’s like not to have real parents. I don’t even know who my father was. But you . . .’ She swallowed. ‘You are his father. And through you Billy has a chance to know he is loved.’

  Trav stared down into the deep brown eyes. ‘Help me.’ he said. ‘Help me to understand. Show me what I need to do.’

  ‘It’s not rocket science. Show interest in the child. Do stuff with him, talk to him, kiss him, hug him, just show him you love him – try being a real dad.’

  ‘And the hearing? Did Jacinta say anything more about that?’

  ‘You have to make an appointment with the audiologist. Get a handle on what you’re dealing with.’

  Trav hung his head. The poor kid. He felt a small but firm hand come up and cradle him under the chin, lift his head up.

  ‘It’s not that bad, Trav. Maybe just a pair of hearing aids? There are thousands of kids out there who are hearing impaired and they’re all living full and happy lives.’

  ‘But it’s my fault.’

  ‘How the hell do you know that? And who really cares anyway?’ She ran her fingers over his cheek and gave him an encouraging little grin. ‘It’ll be okay. Hearing aids and he’ll be right as rain. You just have to learn to be a real dad.’

  ‘But how do I learn? My father wasn’t ever one to me.’

  Tammy planted a soft kiss on his mouth before getting into her vehicle. ‘Billy’s a great kid, Trav. He’ll teach you. Just open your mind and your heart.’

  Her ute started rolling down his drive. A voice came calling to him on the slight breeze. ‘And just for the record, that was the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had!’

  Chapter 32

  ‘Tammy? Tammy McCauley?’ The words crackled down the phone line. ‘It’s Alice Stringer from the Narree Gallery. You bought two prints off me a while ago?’

  ‘Oh, Alice. Yes. Hello.’

  ‘I was just calling as I finally might have my hands on the third print in the series.’

  ‘Really? Oh Alice, I’m not sure I can afford the third one at the moment. Something’s come up.’ Like her husband wanting to take her for half the farm, but Alice Stringer didn’t need to know that.

  ‘Oh that’s all right. It’s not here yet anyway, and I’m sure we can come to some arrangement. I was actually ringing because I thought you might like to attend the official opening of my gallery next Friday evening. The creator of the series you bought has kindly agreed to be our feature artist on the night.’

  ‘That’s wonderful for you, Alice! And yes, of course I’ll come.’

  ‘And could I prevail on you to put your two prints on show too?’ said Alice. ‘Just on loan mind you.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course.’

  ‘Lovely. Mention it to all your friends. I’m in need of lots of bodies to fill the room for the night.’

  ‘No worries. I’ll tell anyone I see.’

  Tammy hung up and looked through the lounge-room door at the two pictures on the wall. The sphinx-angel was still gliding the eddies in blissful contemplation. She wondered how that would feel.

  The phone behind her rang again.

  ‘Good morning, Tammy. It’s Hilary Stratton, your solicitor, speaking. I’m ringing with regards to the proposed property settlement with your husband.’

  She should have let it go to message bank. ‘Yes, Hilary?’

  ‘As you instructed, I have discussed the realisation of all marital assets with your husband’s solicitor. He has in turn advised me that both he and his client are very pleased with the outcome.’

  ‘Outcome? I didn’t realise I’d made a decision!’

  ‘You have decided to put it on the market, haven’t you? Quite frankly, Tammy, upon further review of your limited options, you have absolutely no recourse other than to sell your property, er . . . Montmorency Downs.’

  ‘None at all?’

  ‘None at all. Not unless you’ve dug up a treasure chest of money somewhere on your farm.’ The woman laughed – an awful braying noise like a donkey. ‘As I said, both your husband and his solicitor were very pleased and hopefully we can do this in a hurry. You will, of course, receive the majority of the proceeds from the sale so if we move this along, you’ll get paid out quickly. Like I said at our meeting, it’s going to be a great outcome all round.’

  Tammy sank to the floor. This was really happening. She was going to have to sell Montmorency.

  ‘I’ll need you to make an appointment to come in and sign the agency agreement. How about tomorrow? I’m in town for a couple of days this time. We’ve got a run on divorces in the district,’ said Hilary, laughing again.

  Tammy couldn’t believe the woman could be so insensitive. These were people’s lives she was dealing with.

  ‘We’ll need to get a vendor statement arranged, but I’ll organise that. And the real-estate people will want to come out and take some photos, although apparently your husband has already provided a few. But first up we’ll need your signature . . .’

  Tammy tried to hold back the despair that was threatening to engulf her. ‘I’ll be in town tomorrow, around lunchtime. I’ll call in and sign the form.’

  ‘Great! I’ll see you then. And Tammy?’

  ‘Yes?’

  The solicitor’s voice softened slightly. ‘It mightn’t seem like it now, but this really is for the best. You should come out of this with enough money to start again.’

  But she didn’t want to ‘start again’. She was losing her family’s heritage, her home, her life. Montmorency Downs was going on the market and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stop it.

  After Tammy had left, Trav had headed out to check the line of traps he’d set out at Grayden Horton’s place. That had taken most of the afternoon and the sun was dipping down over the horizon before Trav finally made it back to Joe’s. He was just in time to see the old man throw a gallon of diesel on a dozy fire contained in a metal drum.

  The explosion buffeted the air on the hill with its sudden heat. A black and whit
e dog shot off into the bush in fright.

  Peals of laughter came from a deck chair set a safe distance from the flames. Billy was holding a plastic bag in one hand and a can of lemonade in the other and he was rocking the chair backwards and forwards with his boots. ‘Go, Joe!’ he was yelling.

  The old man had staggered back and was hastily dabbing a hanky on his eyebrows.

  Trav jogged towards Joe. ‘You all right?’

  The old bugger spun around to face him. One bushy grey eyebrow was still intact, wiry hairs spinning out in a myriad of directions. The other was, unfortunately, gone. Completely eradicated by the blast.

  ‘Bloody hell!’

  ‘Mmm . . . I was perhaps standing a little bit close,’ said the old man, still dabbing his eye with the scrap of material.

  ‘Possibly. Do you need some water on that?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yes. I’m fine. Let’s move on. Billy?’

  The boy came running, then stopped. Shot a look at his father like he wasn’t sure whether to say hello or not. Trav’s heart twisted a bit. He wondered if he’d given the same look to his own father. But he wasn’t his father and Billy wasn’t Trav.

  ‘Hello, Billy.’

  ‘Hello, Dad.’ A little smile erupted on his face. ‘We’ve got marshmallows.’ He held up the plastic bag.

  ‘And lemonade?’

  Billy’s face fell, assuming his father disapproved and would take the can of fizzy drink off him.

  ‘Better go find yourself a stick,’ said Trav, with a slight smile, ‘to toast the marshmallows over the fire. Is that what you were going to do, toast them?’

  The boy nodded so hard he dropped the bag.

  Trav leaned down and picked it up. What was it that Tammy said? ‘Do stuff with him, talk to him . . . just show him you love him . . .’

  ‘Find me a stick too, will you?’

  ‘And me!’ said Joe.

  ‘Make sure it’s a good one though,’ said Trav, reaching out a hand to ruffle his son’s hair. Billy moved into the caress like a cat. ‘Off you go. And grab me and Joe one of those cans of lemonade too.’

  Both men stood with their backs to the flames as the child eagerly scampered up the slope towards the thicket of bush near the rear of the house. Obviously the spot to gather good toasting sticks.

  ‘He’s a terrific kid, Hunter.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Not you too.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve already had your niece on my case about Billy this morning.’

  Joe shot Trav a sneaky glance. ‘I’m guessing she wasn’t only on your case?’

  Trav looked startled.

  ‘I’m up early again these days and I beat you getting the fire going this morning. You haven’t even got yours started yet.’ The old bloke chuckled. ‘And my rifle-scope tells me things. Saw a red car arrive. How’d you go with the two women there together? A bit of skin and hair fly?’

  Trav was silent for a moment, reliving the look on the young teacher’s face when she saw there was someone in the bed beside him. ‘No. It was okay. Jacinta just called by with some news.’

  Joe raised his remaining eyebrow in invitation.

  ‘Billy failed his hearing test at school. They’re saying he might be deaf.’

  ‘Mmm . . . I wondered.’

  Trav looked at the old man in surprise. ‘You think so too?’

  ‘Somethin’s wrong. Makes sense it’s his ears.’ Joe heaved a big sigh. ‘When I was teachin’ him to drive the tractor –’

  ‘You were what?’

  ‘Teachin’ him to drive. Someone’s gotta do it and you sure as hell weren’t.’

  ‘He’s only nine, Joe.’

  ‘Ten.’

  Trav thought about that for a minute. Did he miss the kid’s birthday? Shit. No! Hang on a minute . . . He gave him an Akubra. Trav heaved a sigh of relief.

  ‘How old were you when you learned to drive?’ asked Joe.

  ‘About six or seven, I suppose. My brother, Danny, was older.’

  ‘Didn’t know you had a brother,’ said Joe with interest. ‘Where’s he?’

  ‘Back home.’ Trav didn’t want to talk about Danny. ‘You were talking about Billy?’

  Joe gave Trav a searching look. ‘Mmm . . . anyway, Billy couldn’t hear my instructions. Caused a bit of bother, but we got there in the end, didn’t we, Boots?’ The collie had slunk back from the scrub to sit at his master’s feet.

  Trav glared down at the dog, thinking hard. Why did everyone have such a low opinion of his parenting skills? Probably because you don’t have any, his mind whispered back.

  ‘Hunter?’ said Joe, appearing pensive, which was most unlike him. ‘Can I talk to you straight?’

  ‘Nothing usually stops you,’ said Trav.

  ‘As you know, I’m a loner – happy in my own company. I guess it comes from working for a lifetime in the bush. You’re the same.’

  Trav nodded.

  ‘I thought I’d lost my true love. Her name was Mae. I’m guessing by the fact you and Billy are by yourselves, you did too.’

  Trav nodded again.

  ‘Well, life’s got some surprise twists and turns and sometimes what we want and what is good for us are two different things.’ The old man paused, then sighed and looked out across the fire drum, towards the mountains splayed in the late afternoon light. ‘We live on the edges, you and I, Hunter. And to a certain degree Billy and Tammy do too. We all ride the boundaries of life. We ain’t real normal-like. But’ – and Joe turned with his finger in the air – ‘and this is the key point I’d like to make. Between you and me there is one very important difference . . .’

  Trav stood waiting, although he had a suspicion of what was about to come.

  ‘Nellie and me were never able to have children. You, Travis Hunter, have a son. A great kid who is crying out for your love.’

  Trav went to speak, but the old man held up his hand. ‘I haven’t finished. I know you’re trying to do your best for that boy. Others mightn’t see it, but I bloody well do. A single man on his own, working long hours away from home.’ The old bloke stopped, grimaced and sucked in a gulp of air before going on. ‘But you need to do more. You have to be a proper father to him, otherwise he’ll turn out just like you and me.’

  ‘And what exactly is that?’ asked Hunter.

  Old Joe looked him dead in the eye. ‘A lonely, old reprobate bushie who’ll be a boundary rider as well.’

  Chapter 33

  The fire had died down to a stack of glowing coals. Trav could see them throbbing red through the holes in the 44-gallon drum. Someone had cut the name McCauley into the metal side of the makeshift heater and it was glowing a golden colour in the light from the fire.

  He and Joe were sitting in companionable silence. The stars were gleaming up above their heads. There were so many swathed across the heavens.

  ‘So tell me about this brother of yours,’ said Joe, disturbing the peace.

  ‘Not much to tell.’

  ‘You said he’s at home. Where’s that exactly?’

  ‘Cattle station, north of Yunta in South Australia.’

  ‘So why aren’t you there too?’

  ‘He got it. I didn’t. End of story.’ Trav moved around in his chair, shifted his long legs. The boy asleep in the swag at his feet murmured, then flung an arm out to cuddle Boots, who was lying against him.

  ‘Do you talk to him?’

  ‘No, not much.’

  The pair lapsed back into silence once more. In the soft breeze, tree branches laden with eucalyptus leaves whispered above their heads.

  A high-pitched howl cut through the night air. A bloody wild dog. Probably the wild dog he was trying to trap.


  ‘Bit close,’ said Joe. ‘You obviously didn’t get him yesterday.’

  Trav shook his head. ‘No, we didn’t. I’ll do a stake-out every second day for a while.’

  Joe nodded slowly. ‘See any other signs of it?’

  ‘Only a few prints. And some hairs caught on the barbed wire of the fence. But I reckon it’s having a ball eating all the calf shit once it’s in the paddock. The dogs go mad over it because it’s full of milk and cream.’

  Joe nodded again just as another howl came from the bush nearby. Boots’s ears flicked in his sleep.

  Trav flung back his head and let out a howl of his own. His sleeping boy stirred but didn’t wake. The kid must have been exhausted because Joe nearly fell off his chair in fright. ‘Fuck, mate, let me know before you’re gunna do that again!’

  Trav laughed, then sobered real quick as a responding howl came from the bush. ‘He thinks I’m another dog.’

  ‘I don’t see why. Sounded more like one of them bloody chipmunks on Billy’s DVD.’

  ‘What DVD?’

  ‘The one Tammy gave him for his birthday.’

  Trav had never seen it. ‘Right. Yes, of course.’

  ‘You don’t know what I’m talkin’ about, do you?’

  ‘Nope. Got no idea.’

  ‘You’ve really got to start taking notice of that boy, Hunter. Before it’s too late.’

  Trav looked down at the child curled up in the green canvas swag. Such an innocent little kid, lying there with his skinny arm flung across an old dog. Billy had done nothing wrong – he’d just been born to a woman who couldn’t love enough and a cynical man who’d once loved too much.

  ‘Yeah, I’m hearing you. Loud and clear.’

  ‘What did Tammy say to you about it?’

  ‘About Billy?’

  The old man nodded.

  ‘She said much the same. Told me to just try being a real dad.’

  ‘Yeah well, she knows a thing or two about being neglected.’

  ‘Neglected? Tammy? She had two loving grandparents.’ After her revelations yesterday maybe it hadn’t been a perfect relationship with her grandmother, but it didn’t sound like she’d been disregarded.