‘Well, I’m giving it away after this muster.’ He forced out the words.
‘Oh, Stretch, what will you do?’
‘I don’t need much money now that the missus has shot through. The kids are all set up down south, they don’t need me no more. Henry Finlayson wants me to caretake for a while at Blackwood Downs. I’m still plaiting whips and there’s a demand for the smaller roo-hide ones, for kids and that. Don’t go worrying about me, Alice.’
‘Has Jill really gone for good? She’s done this before, hasn’t she?’
‘Ain’t coming back this time, love. She’s found another fella and they’re – what’s the blinking word? – grey nomads.’
Alice patted his arm comfortingly, her eyes full of the sorrow she felt for him. And at the thought that this would be his last muster on Redstone. She’d miss old Stretch. For the first time she wondered what his real name was. She was on the point of asking when her grandmother rang the dinner bell on the veranda and everyone headed towards the homestead.
It was breezy and cool the next morning. Alice was out of bed before dawn.
‘Good day for branding,’ her grandfather commented at breakfast.
They were starting with the paddocks closest to the house so they set out on horseback from the yards. Alice looked at Mushgang’s new horse doubtfully. Before they had gone half a kilometre the Arab mare had shied repeatedly, spun and finally bucked in earnest. Mushgang rode the buck until his brittle old girth strap snapped and he was flung several metres, landing hard in the dust, still seated in the saddle. Its tail high, the fiery creature thundered away and out of sight. Alice leapt off her horse and ran to Mushgang. Although in his sixties, the ringer was still an exceptional horseman, trained as a boy by his father’s Aboriginal stockmen. His real name had been forgotten long ago and he had taken instead the one given to him by his Murri nanny. Alice had always thought of him as an uncle, and knew that in recent years he had been suffering greatly from arthritis. Now Alice sat with him and made him have a drink from her saddle bag.
‘I’ll be fine after a bit of a blow,’ he insisted, resting in the shade while Jeremy trotted back to the yards to get the ringer’s other horse and a spare saddle. Once he was mounted again, although his face was still a ghastly grey, his usual good spirits returned and the rest of the day went without a hitch.
Despite complaining about Rita, the ‘pensioner’ horse he’d been given again to ride, Jeremy thoroughly enjoyed the day. It was very different to mustering with his father and brothers, which always involved a lot of shouting, galloping, barking dogs and cracking whips. By contrast, the four old men and Alice hardly raised their voices at all except to communicate with the dogs. The only yapping came from Ace. However, the stout canine soon discovered that barking wasn’t the go on Redstone and hung insecurely near Jeremy.
Jeremy watched Alice with admiration. She was in her element. She rode lightly and didn’t appear to be giving the horse any aids. Yet Bingley changed direction or speed exactly when required. With an uncanny ability to predict what the cattle were going to do, Alice was always in position or sent a dog before any real trouble occurred. Back in the yard, too, the cattle flowed smoothly and the men weaved around each other without conflict. There were no flying accusations or arguments.
‘So what do you think of my new employee?’ Sam asked the three ringers at morning smoko. They were all sitting in the shade of some kurrajong trees on the far side of the yards, away from the bellowing of the calves that had just been weaned.
‘Hope old Sam’s paying you double,’ Dan remarked by way of answering, lifting his hat and wiping his sweaty bald head with his handkerchief.
‘Knew what he was doing when he took you on, I reckon,’ Mushgang added.
‘Yeah, I can retire with a clear conscience now, thanks, mate. Worth three of me – on one o’ my good days,’ said Stretch.
They all laughed and Alice beamed her congratulations at Jeremy. It was her smile more than anything that made his chest swell with pride, and he couldn’t help grinning back.
‘Stop it, the lot of you,’ he said. ‘All this talk’ll swell me noggin. I wanna be able to put me hat on again before we go back out in the sun.’
They munched on Anzac biscuits and sipped tea in silence for a few minutes.
‘What’re you gonna do about your filly?’ Dan asked, looking at Mushgang.
‘You mean that cow of a horse or me missus?’ They all chuckled again. Mushgang went on, ‘She can keep running to China for all I care. I’m just glad she ditched my saddle, otherwise I might’ve bothered to try and track her down.’
With smoko over, Jeremy went to fix one of the slide gates while Alice and Sam took the first lot of cows back to their paddock. He watched them leaving with a smile. The Bennet sisters had their work cut out for them. A few cranky cows repeatedly tried to break back to their weaned calves, which were still locked in the yard. Ace, who had tagged along, came into his own at this point, showing the Bennet ladies how to use a bit more clout.
On their return to the yards half an hour later, Alice and Sam were trailed by the disgraced filly, who seemed to be trying to look inconspicuous. Mushgang ran her through the gate on his other horse.
‘Hey, Jeremy, you’re the buck-jump rider. Why don’t you have a crack at her?’ he suggested.
Jeremy suspected that Mushgang was joking, but he wasn’t one to refuse a challenge. By the time Dan and Stretch were mounted again, he’d cornered the animal and saddled her.
He hunted her round and round the small forcing yard, then mounted her and bulged her some more. The others watched, and Jeremy noticed that Alice was looking dubious. Eventually, on Jeremy’s signal, Mushgang opened the heavy wooden gates and the pair exploded from the yard. The agitated filly had already developed a lather of foamy sweat on her dark belly and flanks, but by the time she’d finished bucking she was wet all over and trembling. However, she hadn’t been able to shake Jeremy. They all set off for the next paddock to be mustered, Jeremy still on the Arab mare. Now she walked like a zombie, completely dominated.
They mustered Hazelbrae, and Jeremy was on top of the mare at every moment. His heavy-handed control kept her in line and they yarded the cattle smoothly. While they were eating lunch, Sam told them that he wanted to draft some fat, ‘empty’ cows out of the mob waiting in the cooler. Anything that wasn’t in calf had to be culled. Jeremy and Alice went to get their horses, leaving the older men sitting in the shade.
Bingley was loose in the little side yard, but the mare was tied securely; judging by the state of the reins, she had obviously been pulling back. She stood frozen and rigid as Jeremy approached, then, fast as lightning, spun her rump towards him and kicked out, high and hard, double-barrelling with her rear feet. He felt the wind of her hooves passing his ear as he jumped back out of the way. The second time he approached more warily, a short piece of poly pipe in his hand, but she attempted nothing further.
She saved her next bucking session until they were out in the cooler trying to draft off the fats. Again she was unsuccessful, but even once she’d given up on trying to dislodge Jeremy, her erratic, jerky movements stirred up the cows. This made Alice’s job of blocking all but the required cows at the gate nearly impossible and the drafting process took longer than it should have.
By mid-afternoon the last little calf had been branded and the last big calf weaned from its mother. The sound of bellowing was deafening as the cattle called for their lost loved ones. Sam left Alice and Jeremy the job of returning the cows to Hazelbrae, and the four old men hobbled from the yards back to the house, each nursing his own set of aches and pains. Alice watched them go, a look of disappointment on her face. She explained to Jeremy that the slow dusk ride had been her and Sam’s special tradition. She’d never done it without her pa before.
‘Jeez, and I’m not much of a replacement,’ Jeremy said.
They mounted their horses for the last time that day, Jeremy back on Rita. Bo
th rode in silence, enjoying the satisfaction that comes from a good day’s work. They had mustered, branded and weaned two paddocks in one day, a feat that hadn’t been accomplished in recent years. Jeremy was aware of a bursting feeling of happiness such as he’d never experienced before. He tried to put his finger on it. Was it from the encouragement and praise he’d received today? The feeling of being valued? Was it the acceptance he felt here at Redstone, without the pressure to perform and entertain? Was it the quiet company of four true old bush gentlemen? Or was it the presence of the girl who was riding alongside him?
He decided he didn’t need to diagnose the cause, and broke out instead into a cheery whistling rendition of ‘Yellow Submarine’. Alice smiled at him as he finished mid-verse. He smiled back at her and felt his heart pounding in his chest. Alice seemed to shrink a little under the intensity of his gaze and called to Lydia, who was rolling on a dead thing.
‘How’d you learn to ride like that, Alice?’ Jeremy was genuinely interested.
‘Like what? I barely got out of a walk today. I should be the one asking you.’
‘You know what I’m getting at. I know a fair dinkum horseman . . . woman when I see one.’
Alice grinned, openly showing her pleasure at his praise. ‘It was Eddy.’
‘That your dad’s name? The rogue stockman?’
‘No, Eddy was my first pony.’ Alice laughed, then added seriously, ‘I’ve only spoken to my dad once. But Pa says I get it from him – my way with animals.’
‘Sounds like he would’ve been worth meeting. Where is he now, your old man?’
Alice’s face fell. ‘I don’t know. I wish I did.’ She looked away and there was a note of sadness in her voice as she went on, ‘There’s so much I’d like to know about him. Pa says he was amazing.’
Jeremy decided it was time to change the subject. ‘D’you train your own dogs? They’re bloody rippers. Poor old Ace was out of his depth there today.’
‘Those dogs are born knowing what to do,’ Alice explained modestly. ‘All I do is attach commands to their natural instincts so that I can tell them when and where to do it.’
‘I’ve never had much to do with kelpies and collies. We always had the boofhead kind at home.’ He threw Ace a disparaging look. The blue dog had his head poked into a hollow log which was lying on the ground, his chubby hindquarters wriggling with excitement. ‘Goes with the type of owner, I guess.’ Jeremy tried to keep the bitterness out of his laugh.
‘Now, what about you?’ Alice asked. ‘You were the one doing all the stunt riding today.’ She turned in her saddle to look at him and waited expectantly. Jeremy was a little reluctant to explain, but after a pause said, ‘My dad’s rule was, we only got a saddle once we’d stopped falling off bareback.’
‘Wow.’ Alice raised her eyebrows.
Jeremy continued, ‘And . . . you know how it is. Big brothers think it’s a laugh to put their smart-arse baby brother on horses that are way too goey for him. A few broken bones later, you learn how to ride.’ He spoke in a flat, matter-of-fact tone.
‘Or get killed,’ said Alice disapprovingly. She knew Jeremy’s five brothers by sight but had never had much to do with them.
Jeremy shrugged. ‘It was all worth it, but. If I hadn’t known how to stick on a beast I wouldn’t have won my most prized possession in the calf riding when I was ten.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yep. My little leather riding boots. All carved with patterns and that. I loved those boots like nothing on earth. It nearly broke my heart when I grew out of them.’
The cattle flowed through the gate into Hazelbrae and meandered away, some of them stopping just inside the gate to eat. The older, wiser cows had already forgotten their weaners, but the first-calf heifers still looked around anxiously, occasionally bellowing, before eventually dropping their heads to graze as well. Once the cattle were all safely in the paddock, Jeremy and Alice rode home in silence, enjoying the evening glow on a landscape tinctured with colour that it lacked by day. They listened to the soft thudding of their horses’ hooves in the dust and the low musical chatter of birds settling down for the night.
The old trio, Mushgang, Dan and Stretch, stayed for three weeks, during which time they helped to wean over a thousand calves. From the second day of mustering onwards, there was extra work in the afternoons to deal with the swelling mob of new weaners, who had to be worked through the yards in small groups to be quietened. Round hay bales had to be replaced regularly, and to make their first experience of the yards a pleasant one, Alice also insisted on giving them just a smell of copra meal. By the time they had weaned the large sappy calves and branded the few out-of-season ones, the old men were usually well and truly done in, so most days it was left to Alice and Jeremy to return the cows to their paddocks and work the weaners in the late afternoons.
After the first few days, Alice began to let some of the weaners out into one of the four ‘weaner fields’ at daybreak each morning. Her grandfather argued that it was too early for them to be out and that they’d break fences to get back to their home paddocks. But Alice had worked them thoroughly in the yards and was confident that if she yarded them again at nightfall, they would benefit more from the tailing and dog work in the paddock than they would from being confined in the yards.
‘Happy cattle gain weight faster, Pa,’ she said. ‘It’s been proven.’
The three old ringers stayed on for a few days after the mustering was finished and spent a good deal of time yarning on the veranda with Sam. Before they left Redstone, Mushgang asked Jeremy if he wanted the Arab filly. Alice pricked up her ears immediately. She’d been watching the horse closely over the last few days. The filly looked nervous, yes, but also highly intelligent. Alice suspected the little mare could be full of potential and wondered what had been done to her in the past.
Jeremy suggested that he could get a good price for her as a buck jumper at the rodeos. But before Mushgang was able to consider Jeremy’s offer, Alice surprised them all by asking if she could take the unwanted animal. Mushgang hesitated, and Alice could tell he was worried.
After some discussion, it was decided that he’d take the mare home again for his son Troy to work on for a while. Alice was pleased; she knew Troy well, they were almost the same age and had been childhood friends. She knew he’d be gentle with the filly. Troy had been away at the mines for six months, but the talented young horseman had been utterly miserable there; Mushgang had told Alice that Troy had come to the conclusion he’d rather be broke and happy than cashed up and caged in. He’d just arrived back in town.
‘Troy wouldn’t be too impressed if a horse of mine harmed you, Alice.’ Mushgang winked at her. Alice felt the same awkwardness she always did when Mushgang mentioned Troy’s feelings for her, and pretended she hadn’t heard.
But Jeremy hadn’t missed the insinuation. ‘Bit sweet on old Ali, your Troy Boy?’
‘Oh, just a bit.’ Mushgang chuckled.
Chapter 13
Alice’s favourite event of the year – the bush run – had come around.
When Sam was a boy the national park that backed on to Redstone had been Crown land. The land had since been preserved because of the patches of rare forest, the spectacular rock cliffs and gorges, and also because of the existence of several sacred and significant Aboriginal sites. But sixty years ago it was in the interest of the government to allow Sam’s father to release weaner cattle into the untamed region. The grazing kept the dense bush accessible and helped to control the enormous fire hazard that the area presented. Each year in late April a group of riders and packhorses would venture into the rugged terrain to collect the cattle again. George Day and his Aboriginal stockmen had built four rough huts and holding yards at strategic points throughout the area. The ‘bush run’ had become a treasured yearly ritual and the nights by the camp fire were filled with yarns and song.
Once the area was declared a national park, however, this all changed. The cattle were fo
rbidden entry and the land grew a huge bulk of weeds and fuel. For ten years it was a constant worry to Sam, then a young farmer, and the firebreaks on the Redstone boundary had to be constantly maintained. Wild dogs, goats, brumbies and pigs also bred up in numbers and began to make their presence felt. Sam repeatedly sought permission to burn areas of the park near his boundary, but for reasons he couldn’t fathom it was never granted.
Eventually the bushfire that Sam had been dreading occurred. The national park, the plants and animals were cooked by a fire so fast and hot that it created its own whirling storms of flame. In spite of his firebreaks, Sam lost kilometres of fencing and the winter feed from a third of Redstone.
After this fire, Sam had demanded a meeting with the National Parks department. Another young ranger, higher up the ladder than the one Sam usually dealt with, came to Redstone. He was a practical and sensible man and had experience with fires, having grown up in the high country of New South Wales. He indicated to Sam that if some of his cattle were to ‘unofficially’ wander into the national park, as they had done in the past, he’d not be prosecuted. So the bush run was reborn, and had continued ever since. It was one of the things Alice had missed the most during her absence from Redstone. Stretch, Mushgang and Dan had done the bush run with Sam during that time, but it was hard on their ageing bodies and now they gladly handed over the honours to Jeremy and Alice. In preparation, Sam oiled the old military packsaddles and checked all the canvas bags and tarps. Alice packed all the provisions and ran in from the Brigalow paddock the two hairy ponies that they used as packhorses.
Alice could tell that the excitement she and her grandfather were feeling had even infected Jeremy, when, on a sunny morning in late April, they opened the gate in the boundary fence and headed into the national park. He was quieter than usual, and Alice wondered whether he was pondering the privilege of his inclusion in the long-held tradition.
Redstone Station Page 9