The Last McAdam

by Holly Ford

  ‘Thanks.’ Getting to his feet, he picked up the empty from the table. ‘I will.’

  Thinking of what that was almost certainly going to entail, she felt her colour rise.

  ‘Say hi to Gina,’ Harry teased.

  Tess stared at a mark on the table. There was a clink behind her as Nate dropped the bottle into the bin.

  ‘See you guys tomorrow,’ he said.

  Raising her eyes to the window, she watched his ute pull away.

  •

  Riding the quad bike past the cottage early next morning, Tess caught a glimpse of the Mazda through the trees. Nate had come home last night, then. As the bad mood she’d woken up in started to lift, she tried to stamp it back down. So he hadn’t spent the night with his date. That was nothing, absolutely nothing, to her. She didn’t care what he did with … with Tina, or Gina, or both, or the whole bloody town, probably.

  She accelerated on, riding the verge to avoid raising the dust. Reaching the brassica paddock, she opened the gate and, swearing under her breath at the waste of man-hours it was, got on with moving the irrigator. As its slow tick rose again through the still morning air, Tess paused, looking out at the view.

  The sun was just starting to hit the flats beside the river, turning the wind-sculpted canopy of the scrub to gold. It was quiet enough to hear the rush of the central channel over the stones, the clean, cold smell of shingle drifting up. As she watched, a calf ambled out of the scrub, scenting the morning before he got his head down to browse the old moraine’s thin crust of soil. A few hundred metres away, another did the same.

  Looking at them, and the distance between them, out of nowhere Tess felt sick that it all had to change. That she’d be one of the last people to see it like this. In all probability, she was looking at the last generation of cattle that would ever be driven up to the tops, and by the time they came down, most of this valley would be unrecognisable, and almost everything that the McAdams and their predecessors had achieved in a hundred and sixty-odd years would be gone.

  If wishes were worth anything – which they weren’t – she’d wish it could stay as it was. The same way she wished, every time she drove past the hills she’d grown up on, that the land she’d loved still looked like it had when she was a kid, before the Drummonds were forced to move out and the sheds and irrigation ponds moved in. That was the truth. The reason she’d needed to cut Nate down so quickly, so hard, was that she agreed with every word he’d said. She hated what was going to happen to Broken Creek. She hated it, but she’d do it anyway, because that was her job. And because if she didn’t, somebody else would. And maybe they’d do it less well.

  Tess climbed back on the bike. Watching the shadows of clouds move over the empty brown hills, she felt a pressure building behind her eyes, a lump rising in her throat. As a child, she’d thought these sorts of sights would last forever. But the hard fact was, the world had gotten too small for country like this. There was nothing she, or Nate, could do to change that.

  The McAdams, like their cattle, had to go.

  As the trees surrounding Nate’s cottage came back into view up ahead, Tess slowed, struggling against the urge to see him that was suddenly jumping, steel-cap-booted, in her stomach. What was it she wanted? Forgiveness? Tess chewed the inside of her lip. She didn’t have much of a right to that. But for the first time since they’d fought, she felt like she wanted to fix it. Tell him she knew what it felt like to lose a farm. A home.

  As she neared his gate, her heart was pounding insanely. His truck was still there. Tess hesitated. Apart from anything else, the new roster she’d launched had him off for the day, which meant he was out of bounds. But he had asked her, yesterday, to come and look at the boat. And here she was, driving past. And he was home.

  Tess turned in. She emerged from the trees of the driveway to find Nate standing in front of the house. He had his back to her, naked except for a pair of old jeans that looked as though they might slip from his hips at any moment. Beside him was a car she hadn’t been able to see from the road, a late-model sedan, and in his arms was a girl. As the girl’s hand slid over the muscles of Nate’s back, Tess sat frozen, shocked by the wave of pure hatred she felt.

  Nate turned nonchalantly towards the sound of the bike. Seeing who was riding it, his expression changed. For a second, he let go of the girl as if she was hot. Which Tess had to admit she was. Then he draped an arm back around her shoulders.

  ‘Tess,’ he said. The what the hell are you doing here was unvoiced, but it was clear.

  ‘Sorry, I – I was just driving past and I—’ Jesus. Tess strove to get a grip. ‘I saw your truck and I thought …yesterday you said to drop by …’

  ‘Did you want to have a look at the boat?’ Nate said matter-of-factly.

  ‘I’ll come back later.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ the girl smiled. ‘I was just leaving.’ She reached up to kiss Nate’s cheek.

  Tess averted her eyes. Through the open window of the cottage, she could see the jumble of sheets on the bed. She stared down at the gas tank instead, desperate for some way to just turn around and ride out of there, all the things she’d wanted to say to Nate a hopeless knot in her stomach. She heard the car door open and shut. The engine started, and she forced herself to look up and wave as the girl – Gina, for god’s sake, she knew her name – drove past. Gina waved back politely. Tess watched the sedan disappear down the drive.

  When she turned her head, Nate had gone. Through the bedroom window, she saw him grab a singlet from the floor and pull it over his head.

  ‘The boat’s in the shed.’ Sauntering out again, he walked past her, padding barefoot across the half-circle of lawn to heave open the tilt-a-door of the narrow weatherboard garage. With an effort of will, Tess got off the quad bike at last. She felt like she was moving through water. As she reached the shed, Nate stood aside to let her in.

  ‘What do you think?’

  What did she think? She thought he should put some more clothes on. And have a shower. That’s what she thought. Tess blinked, trying to concentrate on what she was looking at. Not his body behind her. The tangled sheets on his bed. Trying not to think about the fact that the closest thing she’d had to sex in she didn’t care to remember how long had been with him. His hands, his mouth, his breath on her skin, the same way they’d just been on Gina’s.

  ‘Will it do?’ Nate said. ‘Is it presidential enough?’

  ‘It’s great,’ Tess managed. He’d repaired the gouges, resprayed the paintwork, cleaned up the seats. The boat looked as good as new. She nodded, trying to build up the impetus to power through the rest of this conversation. ‘Wow. I didn’t think it was going to come up that well.’ She patted the new paint dutifully. ‘You’ve done an amazing job.’ She paused. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Tess.’

  She felt like groaning. For god’s sake, just let her out of there.

  ‘Are you …’ Nate stopped. ‘Are we okay?’

  Oh, she was so far south of okay it wasn’t even on the horizon right now.

  ‘Of course.’ Bolting a smile to her face, Tess turned and looked him in the eye. ‘We’re good.’

  Nine

  ‘Something’s happened,’ her mother insisted. ‘You don’t sound like yourself. You’ve gone all … I don’t know. Flat.’

  Tess sat on the bench, staring out at the light moving over the hills. She did feel a bit like she was crawling out from under something. She took a firmer grip on the receiver. ‘I’m fine,’ she said.

  ‘Is work not going well?’

  ‘It’s not that.’ Her plan to convert Broken Creek to dairy support was proceeding all too fast. Tess screwed up her face, realising what she’d just admitted.

  ‘So it is something,’ Elaine said.

  Tess was silent.

  ‘You’re feeling lonely,’ her mother guessed, coming frighteningly close to the truth. ‘Of course you are. Who wouldn’t be, stuck way out there?’

  Tess shoved
aside yet another vision of Gina’s hands sliding over Nate’s back.

  ‘Never mind, sweetheart. Not long to go now and it’ll all be over.’

  ‘I don’t want it to be over,’ she found herself blurting. Shit. Where had that come from? Tess squeezed her eyes shut. ‘I’m not lonely.’ Not in the way her mother meant, anyway. ‘I like it here. I like this place.’

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line. ‘I’ve never heard you say that before.’ Her mother sounded almost shocked.

  Come on, she must have … Mustn’t she? Tess cast her mind back.

  ‘Sweetheart,’ Elaine said slowly, ‘you do understand that it’s okay to want to stay somewhere, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course,’ Tess snapped.

  ‘Tess …’ Elaine sighed. ‘Just because of what happened to your father and me all those years ago, it doesn’t mean … Well, getting attached to a place doesn’t have to end in tears.’

  ‘I know that, Mum.’

  ‘What happened to us won’t happen to you. You won’t let things get on top of you the way we did. You’re too smart.’

  Yeah, and she needed to stay that way. Tess turned her back on the view.

  ‘I have to go, Mum.’

  ‘Tess …’

  ‘I’ve got a meeting with the irrigation designer.’

  •

  The helicopter bearing C.J. Mackersey touched down on Tuesday morning, raising a small cloud of grit from the paddock beside the homestead. The pilot waited for the dust to settle before he got out and opened the doors.

  Standing back on the fence line, Tess watched Mark climb down from the rear seat and make his way across the dry grass towards her. She hadn’t seen him for over four months, and her first thought was that he looked older. The silver that had begun to dust his temples was now flecking the rest of his close-cropped dark hair, and although he was joking with Mackersey, his sharp grey eyes crinkling as they always did when he smiled that way, a way that felt like a gift, something told her it wasn’t an expression he’d had on his face very often of late. There was tiredness in the way that he moved. He usually carried himself with a top-order batsman’s grace, but today he looked match-weary. Tense.

  Were things not going well? Was Carnarvon in trouble? Half the farms in Australasia were – more so than usual – but so far that had been an opportunity for a company like theirs. Had it become a problem? Was that why C.J. Mackersey was here? To shore up a sinking ship?

  Reluctantly, Tess turned her attention to the man Mark was ushering her way. Bloody hell. He looked like an extra from The Flying Doctors. Minus the akubra. Nope, there it was in his other hand. As they drew closer, she readied her smile.

  C.J. Mackersey looked all of Stan’s age, tall and leggy, his white, swept-back hair dwindling into a widow’s peak on top, his broad face well-creased and sporting an outdoorsman’s leathery tan. He was wearing ironed jeans hoisted high with a rodeo belt, a checked shirt, and what looked like a brand new fishing vest.

  ‘Tess.’ Mark’s eyes met hers. He’d dressed down for the day in jeans and a polo shirt, but it wouldn’t have mattered if he hadn’t. No matter how expensive a suit he put on, Mark still managed to look a bit rugged, like a general forced out of the field and into his dress blues.

  ‘I’d like you to meet C.J. Mackersey,’ Mark said. ‘This is Tess Drummond, our manager here.’

  ‘Gidday, Jess,’ Mackersey said. ‘Good to meet you. Thanks for having me here.’

  ‘Tess,’ Mark told him, ‘is one of our greatest assets. She’s got some exciting plans for Broken Creek – she’s going to talk us through them while she shows us around.’

  ‘I’m excited to hear them.’ Mackersey gave her a nod.

  ‘Mr Mackersey.’ Tess held out her hand to him, pleased to feel him shake it properly, with a man-on-man grip. ‘We’re glad you could join us. If it’s okay with you, I thought we’d start by heading across to the house. There’s some morning tea waiting for us.’

  If C.J. Mackersey was surprised to be served a cream tea by a blind man his own age, or had noticed the homestead’s faded walls and peeling boards, he was too polite to show it.

  The rest of the tour went well, Tess’s confidence growing as she chauffeured them over the ground she was coming to know. Checking Mark’s face every now and then for reassurance, she was pleased with what she saw. He was looking more relaxed now – happier, she was tempted to say – and on the occasions he took over, elaborating on the potential her irrigation plan was going to unlock, it was with his usual straightforward, infectious energy. He had Mackersey seeing chest-high lucerne and dairy cows, she was pretty sure.

  ‘That’s a smart plan,’ Mackersey said, when they were done. ‘Smart,’ he repeated, nodding at Tess. ‘Not too many people would look at this place and think of a plan like that.’ His attention shifted to the window.

  They’d pulled up at the last gate onto the river flat, the easiest access to the river where Nate was waiting for them with the boat, and the view from here was of skeletal hills, the brown of the landscape broken only by rock. Tess smiled, but she knew she didn’t deserve Mackersey’s praise. The way things were now, there weren’t too many people who wouldn’t have thought of a plan like hers, in some form or another. The only wonder was that it had taken her as long as it had.

  ‘That’s a cracker of a bull you’ve got over there,’ Mackersey said.

  Tess followed his gaze. On the other side of the road, her friend from a few weeks ago stood looking at them over the fence, a brown and white acre of muscle. ‘He’s a beauty,’ she agreed, ‘isn’t he?’

  As Mark opened the door to get the gate, the bull turned, ambling regally back into the scrub.

  ‘A real cracker,’ Mackersey said.

  Tess guided the HiLux along the bumpy track, trying not to bounce her passengers off the walls as they crested the bank and descended to shingle.

  ‘That went well,’ Mark said, a few minutes later, as they watched the jet boat disappear sedately upstream. She’d ordered Nate to take it slowly. ‘You impressed him, I think.’ He smothered a yawn. ‘I’m glad something did. I’ve had him for two days now. The only thing he’s got excited about was buying that vest.’

  ‘Is everything okay?’ Tess looked at him.

  ‘With him?’ Mark shrugged. ‘Yeah, I think he’s having an alright time. He hasn’t fired me yet, anyway.’

  ‘With you,’ she said, resisting the urge to touch his arm. ‘Is everything okay with you?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Mark looked away.

  Well, that was convincing. ‘You seem,’ Tess pressed gently, ‘a bit …’

  ‘A bit what?’ His voice was rough. She had a horrible thought that he was trying to stop it shaking.

  ‘Down,’ she concluded, softly.

  For what felt like the longest time, there was only the sound of water on shingle. ‘Rachel and I are getting a divorce,’ Mark said.

  Oh god. This time, she did touch him. ‘I’m so sorry, Mark.’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s probably for the best.’

  ‘If there’s anything I can do …’ Like what? Idiot.

  They both looked down at her hand on his forearm. Tess removed it delicately.

  ‘Stan’s got lunch for us back at the house,’ she said.

  Wordlessly, they turned and walked back to the HiLux.

  •

  Five hours later, Tess stood fidgeting in the hallway, watching the hand of the grandfather clock move around the dial. There was a helicopter burning dollars out there, but instead of getting in it, C.J. Mackersey remained shut up in the dining room with Mark.

  She and Mark had been sitting at the table going over the figures for what was shaping up to be Tess’s next job when Mackersey strode in, bright-eyed and windswept, to commandeer the head of the table as if he owned the place – which she supposed, strictly speaking, he did. For a moment, she thought they’d lost track of time and forgotten to pick him up. But he was ahead of sc
hedule. Realising Nate must have brought him back on the tractor, Tess cringed. That had hardly been in the script.

  ‘Give us a moment, will you, Jess.’ Mackersey spread his hands on the old mahogany, clearing her paperwork out of the way. ‘Close the door on your way out.’

  That had been twenty minutes ago. What the hell was going on in there?

  Abruptly, the door reopened. Mark stood there, stony-faced. ‘Send Jess in, will you, please,’ she heard Mackersey order.

  ‘Jess.’ Rolling his eyes, Mark pulled the door to behind him. ‘C.J. would like to see you.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘He wants to tell you himself.’ He gave her a meaningful look. ‘And what C.J. Mackersey wants, C.J. Mackersey gets. Okay?’ Mark held the door open for her.

  Pulse racing, Tess walked past him, into what had suddenly begun to feel a lot like the headmaster’s office. Only worse. Cautiously, she looked the chairman of Carnarvon in the eye. His face was serious.

  ‘Now I’m going to say this,’ he began, ‘so nobody gets the wrong idea. You’re a smart girl, Jess. I’m glad to have you on the team. You’re busting a gut to make me money, and I want you to know I appreciate that. I do. But you can slow down. I’m not about to run out of it anytime soon.’ He paused. ‘Take your time here. Build up that beef herd of yours, get it back where it belongs.’

  Tess opened her mouth. But Mackersey hadn’t finished.

  ‘We’re going to leave that river alone,’ he said. ‘I want stock here that can handle the ground, and stock this ground can handle. Historical rates, no more and no less. There aren’t too many places like this left in the world. We can’t afford to lose one.’

  She stared at him, dumbfounded.

  ‘Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. He seemed to be waiting for more. ‘Very clear,’ she added.

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ he smiled, getting to his feet. ‘Now I’d better get going.’ As Tess followed him to the door, Mackersey nodded thoughtfully. ‘You know, you should think about putting in a fishing lodge here. You’ve already got a cracker of a guide.’