Crimson Dawn

by Fleur McDonald

  ‘Yes!’ Tegan clenched her fist and punched the air.

  ‘So what’s on today, then?’ Allie asked dully. She pulled off her hat and shook out her hair.

  Laura noticed her skin had broken out in red blotches. Bloody hormones, she thought with sympathy, before looking over at the whiteboard. ‘Have any of you been out into West Three?’ she asked. West Three was the paddock that housed five hundred ewes and lambs.

  ‘I was out there a day before we went to the show,’ Robyn said.

  ‘See any problems?’

  Robyn shook her head, but her face tightened. Laura could tell she was wondering if she’d missed something.

  ‘Okay. Good.’ She smiled inwardly as Robyn relaxed. It wasn’t that she meant to get the girls uptight, but she asked so that, when they were in the paddocks, they would be asking themselves the same questions. It taught responsibility and initiative.

  ‘What about East Five?’ she asked. East Five held the cows and calves.

  ‘That was fine when I was there yesterday,’ Tegan volunteered. ‘The electric fence was working but I had to tighten the float on the trough. The adjustment wasn’t quite right and it was overflowing.’

  ‘Good work,’ Laura commented, and then moved on to East Nine.

  The girls looked at each other and Laura saw Tegan glance at the map. Hesitantly she answered, ‘There’s nothing in that paddock.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Laura said. She looked around at the three girls. Allie was very quiet this morning, she noticed. Laura had heard her arrive home late the night before. Perhaps she’d had a big weekend and was still nursing a hangover.

  She didn’t expect her students to head out around the farm every weekend, but she’d often notice the girls would go out by themselves and check the stock or things they’d done during the day. It ensured they had extra information if Laura ever asked, and it was something she encouraged. ‘That’s where today’s work starts. In East Nine. Fencing.’ It was never a popular job and she let the word hang in the air, waiting for cries of displeasure. There weren’t any.

  She liked that about this group. She’d had some students who wanted to pick and choose what they did. On other farms she’d seen girls in skimpy tops thrust their chests out and make doe eyes at the closest male in the hope that the harder jobs would be done for them by the blokes. These young women weren’t like that. They just got on with what they were learning and asked to do.

  ‘Okay.’ She stood and moved over to the map and ran her finger along the black line. ‘See this bit of fence here? You’ll know it’s the boundary between the Hunters and us. Just along here,’ she pointed to a shaded area, ‘is an old fence line.’ She turned back to the girls. ‘Do you know where I mean?’

  All three nodded.

  ‘Right. There’s a fair bit of rubbish along here—by “rubbish” I mean scrubby bushes, a few trees. There’s a bit of native vegetation there, but not a lot. I want to cut this paddock in half from here,’ she pointed to a spot on the fence and drew her finger across to the other internal fence, ‘to here. So we’re making one large paddock into two smaller ones I’ll use as lambing paddocks next year. To do that, we need to clear this bit of rubbish away first, because we need easy access to be able to do the work and we don’t want anything growing up through the new fence, or being too close so it can fall on it.’

  ‘Won’t you get into trouble over that?’ asked Tegan. ‘Aren’t there laws against clearing now?’

  ‘Yep, there are, but this is only about half a hectare and it’s to make way for a fence so I’m sure it’s okay. Bloody hell, there’s so much crap about what we can and can’t do on our own land these days, it’s ridiculous. I might get a slap on the wrist, if anyone sees it, but it’s a risk I’m prepared to take because the benefits will outweigh any problems. I’m really just cleaning up an old fence line.’

  ‘Okay, so do you want me to take the front-end loader out there?’ Allie asked.

  ‘If you like. Robyn and Tegan, you bring the ute out and I’ll bring mine. We’ll need a chain too. Once we get the bush piled up, we’ll bang in some steel posts and run a wire to make sure we’re getting the fence in a straight line. Okay with all of that?’

  ‘Yep,’ Robyn answered, and the others nodded.

  ‘Okay, I’ll see you out there. I’ve just got to answer an email.’

  The girls left and Laura returned to her computer. She looked at the screen saver—a faded photo of Howie and herself when she was much younger. Howie sat astride a motorbike with Laura in front of him. Both of them were grinning, although what they were laughing at, Laura couldn’t remember. She couldn’t recall the particular day either. But she loved the photograph. Howie had his hands on her shoulders and she was half-turned to look up at him. The love was apparent.

  How she missed him! The worst time was coming home after dark. When he was alive, Howie would always have the fire roaring and dinner simmering on the stove. He’d be in his chair, sipping a glass of red wine while he watched the evening news. Now, with him gone, she came home to a cold and empty house every night.

  Laura wondered what Howie would make of Meghan’s latest threat. He’d be appalled, she was certain. And what would he make of Tim Burns’s email?

  She sighed and shook the mouse, watching as the computer screen came to life. The email was still open.

  . . . within time, he will be able to perform stud duties.

  You asked me to run some tests in light of his unusual reaction at the show. I can confirm that I found nothing to indicate any medical reason for his behaviour.

  However, I would like to discuss some other findings with you on the phone. Please give me a call on my mobile number when you get this.

  Laura shivered involuntarily. Somehow she knew there was something more to this than met the eye. Hearing the roar of the tractor engine, she glanced out the window. There was still time to make the phone call before she was needed in the paddock.

  The vet answered after a few rings.

  They exchanged pleasantries and then Tim asked about the show. ‘Sounds like it was quite eventful?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m pretty sure he ripped himself on the steel post that was belted into the ground right on the corner of the pen.’

  ‘Hmm. There shouldn’t be anything like that in a stud pavilion,’ he commented.

  ‘I know that.’ Laura fiddled with a pen. ‘And he didn’t end up back in his own pen. It was someone else’s, and they’d obviously put it in because there was a feed trough hanging from it. Just really bad luck.’ She left the last sentence hanging, in case he had something else to add.

  ‘I’m not sure about it all being bad luck,’ Tim answered slowly. ‘Obviously, I’ve known you for a long time and I know how you handle your sheep, Laura. I respect how you deal with your stock. It’s always the best way for both the animal and the human. That’s why what you’re doing with those girls out there, teaching them how to work with the sheep or cattle, not against them, is such a good thing. So I know Random’s reaction is unusual.’

  Laura leaned her head against her hand. ‘Yeah, that’s right. But that was a completely different situation to what the rams are used to, Tim. After all, in a show environment it’s noisy, there are different smells and loud noises.’

  Tim gave a small laugh. ‘Laura, it was you who said he responded oddly. Now you’re trying to take it back?’

  She wound the phone cord around her finger and was silent. She could make all the excuses in the world, but deep inside she knew something was not right. ‘Okay,’ she sighed finally. ‘Hit me with it.’

  ‘As I said in the email, there was nothing medically wrong, but I got to thinking about what you said and went a bit further. Tried to imagine what would cause him to suddenly lose it the way he did. What if someone passing had hit him with an electric prodder . . .’

  ‘Seriously, Tim?’ Laura interrupted. ‘Someone would have seen that. There are stewards everywhere.’

&nbs
p; ‘I know that, Laura. I’m not stupid.’ Tim sounded irritated. ‘Anyway, I sent a portion of his feed away to be analysed. You left a bag here, remember? So he had something to eat.’ He didn’t wait for her to answer. ‘I’ve got a mate who specialises in putting mixes together for feedlots and so forth, so he’s got all the gear.’

  Laura nodded, then realised he couldn’t see her. ‘I remember,’ she said softly.

  ‘I only decided to get it tested because I wondered if one of your girls could have accidentally mixed it up incorrectly. Put in more protein than normal—that can hype them up.’ He paused and Laura heard him shuffling papers.

  She wanted to deny there could have been a mistake, but she knew she couldn’t.

  He didn’t wait for an answer anyway. ‘I found traces of methamphetamines in it.’

  Laura was silent for a moment, trying to process what he was saying. She couldn’t. ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Methamphetamines. Speed.’

  ‘Drugs?’

  ‘Yes. Drugs,’ Tim confirmed.

  ‘I . . .’ Laura broke off.

  Tim interrupted to explain. ‘Speed is a central nervous system stimulant and when it’s eaten . . .’

  ‘Eaten? I was under the impression it was injected.’

  ‘It can be. Or smoked or snorted. Let me finish. When it’s eaten, it takes longer to react within the body. Sometimes up to twenty minutes. My guess is someone laced the feed, he ate it and reacted just as you were ready to go into the ring.’

  Laura took in what Tim said, then shook her head.

  ‘Drugs,’ she said almost to herself. ‘They each had their own bag of feed so that would explain why it was just Random who reacted.’

  ‘Someone must have been pretty sure you were going to win,’ Tim commented. ‘To sabotage you like that.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said slowly. But something didn’t make sense. She realised what it was. ‘The timing. How could have they been so sure of the timing of it all?’

  ‘Look, I can’t give you all the answers you’re looking for. All I can give you is the facts. The fact is his feed was laced.’

  Laura was quiet again. This time the silence stretched out too long. ‘Thanks, Tim,’ she said finally. ‘Will there be any long-term effects?’

  ‘I don’t think so. You’d be surprised at how many dogs I see who have ingested drugs—marijuana mostly—and they don’t seem to have any problems after they’ve come down from their high.’

  ‘Okay. I’d better be off then. Thanks again.’

  ‘Laura, before you go . . .’

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘In a couple of weeks, the golf club’s holding a fundraising night for Jenny Spencer from school.’ Tim sounded uncertain. ‘You’d heard she was diagnosed with MS?’

  Now Laura was on the back foot. Jenny was a single mum without any family support. Her diagnosis had been a shock to everyone in their community and Laura had heard that one of the churches had started a roster system to help Jenny out.

  ‘Yeah,’ Laura answered slowly, knowing what was coming and not seeing any way out of it.

  ‘Would you like to come? It’s sort of like a B and S ball for us oldies. They’re calling it the Baggy and Saggy. Need to fill a table. Eight people. I’ve got three other couples we went to school with coming. You’ll know everyone.’

  Tim was talking quickly, more nervous than she’d ever known him to be, which was kind of sweet, she supposed. She had to admit he was a nice bloke. In fact, she’d wondered on occasion why he was still single. Probably too busy with his work, she’d figured, and, anyway, he could have been seeing someone, for all she knew. Laura had never bothered to keep up to date with local gossip. Obviously he wasn’t now or he wouldn’t have asked her.

  ‘Sure.’ She tried not to sound like a suffering saint resigned to her fate. ‘Who came up with the name?’ she asked, to change the subject. ‘The Baggy and Saggy—that’s horrendous!’

  Tim brightened. ‘Great! It’s a good name! Where’s your sense of humour? The idea is to wear something that shouldn’t be seeing the light of day. Remember Katie? She’s got a bridesmaid’s dress that should have been burnt twenty years ago! I was looking through the Red Cross shop and found a purple suit jacket with leopard print lapels.’ He let out a loud laugh. ‘It’s atrocious but my secretary told me it was perfect! Should I pick you up?’

  ‘Leopard print lapels?’ Laura echoed, her brow wrinkled. ‘Okay.’ She paused. ‘Actually, Tim, I’ll run myself in and meet you there.’ She stopped before the unspoken ‘so I can leave when I want’ became too obvious.

  ‘Seven o’clock. Golf club, two weeks on Saturday,’ Tim reiterated, as if he was worried she might back out.

  ‘Got it. Thanks again, Tim. Better run and make sure the girls are going okay. Catch you later.’

  She hung up without listening to his goodbyes and sighed. ‘Bloody hell,’ she said to the empty room. ‘What a phone call. Find out my ram’s been doped and get asked out on a date. That’s got be some sort of record.’ If she wasn’t so concerned, she could have giggled.

  Looking across the yard, she realised the compound was empty. The girls would be waiting. Quickly, she shut down the computer, grabbed her esky and thermos, and headed out the door.

  Chapter 16

  2008

  The front-end loader shuddered as it hit the trunk. The force caused Laura to jerk forward in her seat. She rammed the machine into the tree again, feeling a perverse surge of pleasure as she did so. Her rage disappeared for a moment. Then it was back.

  Doping a ram?

  Above the revving engine, she heard a crack. She looked up and saw the tree was beginning to sway. Quickly she jammed the machine into reverse and moved away. From the cab she could hear the ripping of the roots and, as if in slow motion, the ancient tree wavered a couple of times before succumbing to gravity. It hit the ground with a rush of leaves and splintering timber.

  She clenched her fist in triumph and nodded. Then she gave a small laugh. Not because her anger had gone, but because she’d achieved something and it felt good. It made her feel in control.

  Putting the tractor back into gear, she manoeuvred the bucket to the trunk of the tree and pushed with a little more oomph than was necessary. This was the last of five large wide-trunked trees that she was sure would have to be one hundred years old at least. She prodded it towards the pile, a cluster of entangled smaller bushes which would now dry and, when burning season started later next year, she would be able to put a match to it all. Then it would be gone.

  She climbed out of the tractor.

  ‘Wow, you’re good,’ Tegan said. ‘How did you learn to drive a loader like that?’

  ‘My Papa taught me the basics and the rest was just trial and error. You try different techniques—sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. You just have to keep working at it, honing your skills and getting better, even if it’s only by a tiny bit each time.’ She held her thumb and finger apart just slightly. ‘Then one day it all clicks in.’

  ‘Bit sad about those beautiful big trees,’ Allie said. ‘They must be so old.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s a bit of shame,’ Laura conceded. ‘But I’ve got heaps of shelter belts throughout the farm. Howie and Dad planted lines of trees everywhere so the stock had somewhere to go in bad weather. There are also plenty of native swamps fenced off. I don’t think anyone will miss five trees and a bit of scrub.’ She dusted off her hands. ‘Let’s have some lunch.’

  They sat in the knee-high green grass and munched on sandwiches. Laura undid the thermos lid and watched as steam curled and rose. She wanted to ask the students if they’d seen anything strange at the show. If there had been anyone messing with the feed troughs or water. But she was pretty sure they’d have said something if they’d noticed anything unusual.

  She poured her tea and listened to the girls chatter.

  ‘That new band at the pub is amazing,’ Tegan said, drawing out her last word. ‘My legs are sor
e from dancing all night!’

  Robyn nodded in agreement.

  Allie turned, eyes sparkling. Laura couldn’t help but notice how the blotches on her face stood out against her pale skin. ‘I know. Saturday night was one of the best nights I’ve had here.’

  Laura realised that Allie must have been back in Mangalow for the weekend, not in Adelaide, as she had first guessed. That probably explained Allie’s hangover. Must have been a huge weekend.

  ‘Who was the band?’ she asked, knowing she had to show an interest in a world from which she was so far removed.

  ‘Sinking Blizzard,’ Allie answered. ‘They’re from Adelaide.’ She swooned backwards and fell into the grass. ‘The lead singer is sooooo gorgeous.’

  ‘He thought you were okay too, from what I saw,’ Tegan teased.

  A coy smile snuck across Allie’s face, but she didn’t rise to the bait.

  Tegan turned to Robyn. ‘Will Scott still seems to think you’re okay as well!’

  Robyn laughed. ‘He’s not too bad himself. It’s your turn now.’

  ‘Oh no! Not me,’ Tegan answered. ‘I’m completely focused on passing this course and moving onwards and upwards in my career. No time for men. Not yet, anyway.’

  The girls chatted on for a while. Laura decided it was now or never: she had to know what they’d seen at the show. Any little detail might contain answers.

  The talk died down for a moment. ‘I need to ask you a few things about the show,’ she began.

  ‘About Random?’ Allie asked.

  ‘Yes, about Random.’ Laura began to tell them about Tim’s email. ‘So Tim couldn’t find anything medically wrong with Random. There was no good reason why he should suddenly just flip out the way he did.’

  ‘So, what?’ Tegan shrugged. ‘He just got scared with all the people around or something?’

  Laura shook her head. She looked at each of them, trying to gauge what was going on in their heads. ‘No. Tim had Random’s feed tested. I left it with him so Random had his usual crumble. Tim found it had been doctored.’