Valley of the White Gold

by Tony Parsons

  ‘I expected good prices as it was such nice wool. I’m pleased for Dan, as it gets his season off to a great start. Hey, did you get a leave pass today or something?’

  ‘Oh, Wally will be here later. He was giving a dog a run on sheep before he left. Beth picked me up,’ Bella replied, somewhat guardedly.

  Rod shook his head. ‘I think it might be a good idea if I cleared out before Wally arrives. He’s probably still crooked on me for splitting his finger at the nets.’

  ‘I’ve got to tell you, he wasn’t happy. I heard him and Jim talking and he said you were the fastest bowler he’d ever faced. One of Wally’s dreams was to be good enough to play big-time cricket so it peeves him that you had the ability to do that but didn’t take advantage of it,’ Bella explained.

  Beth broke in. ‘Rod, this is Helen Blake.’

  ‘Hello, Helen. I’ve heard a little about you,’ he said, shaking her hand.

  ‘And I’ve certainly heard about you, Rod. In spades,’ Helen smiled.

  Tall with long legs and straight blonde hair, Helen had a low, musical voice with a lilt that suggested a sense of humour. She had an open, smiley face and showed an immediate appreciation of the situation at hand by moving along the seat so that Rod could sit beside Beth.

  ‘You shouldn’t believe all you hear, Helen,’ Rod said, grinning. ‘Anyway, how did Jim go?’

  ‘Time beat him, unfortunately. Meg was rung off before she could get to the pen,’ Beth replied, her hand brushing against his as she spoke. ‘They had one bad wether and it cost them a lot of time.’

  Rod turned and looked at Bella. He didn’t know her very well but he instinctively liked her and wanted to continue their discussion about Wally because he still felt uncomfortable about the prospect of seeing him again. ‘So Wally works dogs, too. How well does he work them, Beth?’

  Beth looked at her sister before answering. ‘Wally’s about middling. He’s too hard on his dogs. They’re scared stiff of doing the wrong thing and copping a hiding.’

  Rod looked across the ground before speaking again. He didn’t want to offend Bella, but equally he couldn’t suppress the contempt he was feeling. ‘I have no time for people who are cruel to animals. Or for men who beat up their wives and kids. In fact, I don’t call them men at all.’

  Bella looked at Rod and shuddered. It was as if he knew her situation exactly.

  ‘What should I do, Bella? Is it going to make things difficult for you if I stay? I’m in your hands–’

  ‘You didn’t drive up here only to leave because of Wally,’ Beth interjected angrily. ‘I’ll be very cross if you clear out.’

  ‘I certainly don’t want to see you leave, Rod. And Beth, especially, has been so looking forward to you being here. The ground ought to be large enough to hold you and Wally,’ Bella said, a little hesitantly.

  ‘It’s just that I don’t want any unpleasantness. Wally turned that net session into a confrontation between us. I don’t want the same thing to happen here.’

  ‘Why don’t we have a cuppa and something to eat when Jim comes back?’ Helen suggested, seeing the need to change the subject.

  ‘Great idea,’ Beth agreed. She didn’t want to talk about Wally any longer and was feeling a little disappointed Rod had even thought about leaving, after only spending a few minutes with them.

  ‘Sounds good to me. My shout,’ Rod said, smiling at Beth in particular. She started to feel a bit better.

  Jim arrived a few minutes later. He had tied up Meg and was ready for smoko. He shook hands with Rod and reported that they’d scored 71. His face was despondent under his dark-grey wide-brimmed hat.

  ‘It wasn’t a bad run considering you had that bad wether, Jim,’ Beth said reassuringly.

  ‘I suppose not,’ he conceded.

  They drank tea and ate buttered scones at one of the tables that had been erected under a large eucalypt. There was still no sign of Wally, Cameron noted with relief. A cool breeze tempered the warmth of the day as they sat in the filtered shade of the tree. Jim brushed away a fly as he bit into a scone. ‘How are you, Bee?’ he asked, turning to his sister. It was the name he had given Bella when she was a small, energetic girl because, as he said, ‘she’s always buzzing around like a blooming bee’.

  ‘Oh, not too bad,’ Bella answered flatly.

  Jim looked at her long and hard, trying to interpret what she actually meant. He had always been proud of his two beautiful sisters because they rated so much attention wherever they went. It was also really something to have Bella and Beth holding sheep with him at their local shows. Not that Bella managed to do that very often because she was usually attracting attention for her horseriding abilities in the ring. But Jim had the feeling that Bella wasn’t very happy these days. She wasn’t the same vivacious girl she used to be and there were always faint shadows under her eyes. His sisters had been very close until Bella’s marriage. Now Beth only visited Glen Avon when she knew Wally was elsewhere.

  ‘Hmm,’ Jim muttered, not quite sure how to deal with his sister’s response in front of everybody else. He would have to try to catch her alone later. As for his other sister, well. He knew Beth was nuts about Rod and uptight because he was keeping her at arm’s length. He just hoped that his relationship with Helen would be less complicated than the relationships each of his sisters was involved in.

  Just prior to lunch Beth worked her first dog – her younger kelpie, Trump. Beth had told Rod earlier that Trump was a very good sheepdog but needed to settle down before he could be a worthwhile trial dog. This proved to be the case today because although Trump did a good cast and picked up the wethers nicely, subsequently he worked a little too close, which made them run off-course, causing a loss of points. Rod’s eyes were glued to the scene as Trump got the three wethers through the race and then over the bridge, but, as with Jim’s run, the over-eager dog missed the pen by being too close to the sheep.

  Beth and Trump finished working the wethers off the ground and into the holding yard before she began walking over to where Rod was sitting with Jim and Helen. Just as she reached them, she noticed Wally standing with two other men beside the oval’s wire fence. It was his loud, belligerent voice that first alerted her to his presence.

  ‘You’d think these kelpie people would get the message that their dogs are no good for trials.’

  Beth’s first reaction to Wally’s words was one of disbelief. She had never heard such criticism voiced at any of the trials she’d attended, nor expected that any sheepdog person would even hold this opinion. They were cruel words, calculated to hurt because Wally knew she disliked him. They were unjustified, too, because other dogs, not kelpies, had also failed to pen their sheep.

  Jim felt Rod stiffen beside him. Here’s a go, was his immediate thought. He was glad Bella had excused herself earlier to go and help with the catering. He didn’t want his sister to experience all of this tension. As Beth turned to face Wally, with the intention of telling him precisely what she thought of his uncalled-for remark, they were interrupted.

  ‘That’s a very good young dog, Beth. I reckon he’d be a real good sheepdog.’ This comment came across just as loudly and clearly as Wally’s, but in a dignified manner, and stopped Beth in her tracks. There was only one man in the Half Moon with a voice like that and he lived at the far end of the valley.

  ‘Charlie… Charlie Dillon,’ Beth said, and her face lit up as the man walked over to her. It had been Charlie who had started her with dogs and shown her how to blade shear a sheep. ‘Where have you been? We haven’t seen you for ages.’

  ‘I’ve been away shearing stud rams,’ Dillon said. ‘Look here, don’t take any notice of that clown over there. You’ve got a good young dog in Trump. All he needs is a bit more control on him. Any fool can see that the dog has got a lot of good work in him. He’d earn his tucker anywhere.’

  ‘Yeah, Trump’s very willing. Troy’s a better trial dog but he’s older, too.’ Beth’s anger temporarily subsided w
ith her pleasure at seeing Charlie. He was regarded everywhere as a tough and cunning old bushman but he had been unfailingly kind to her. ‘Charlie, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.’ She took Dillon’s arm and led him over to where Rod, Jim and Helen were sitting. ‘Charlie, this is Rod Cameron. Rod classed our wool this year. Rod, this is Charlie Dillon. And Charlie, this is Helen Blake.’

  Charlie greeted Helen but Rod noticed that he didn’t look at Jim. Rod stood up and shook hands warmly with the legendary bushman and blade shearer. ‘Good to meet you, Charlie.’

  ‘I’ve heard a lot about you, Rod.’ Charlie looked intently at him.

  ‘I hope it’s been good,’ Rod answered.

  Beth looked on as the two men sized each other up. Charlie was tall and lean and, despite his age and the vast number of sheep he had shorn in his lifetime, he was still as straight as a Pilliga pine tree. ‘Long, lean and leathery’ was how Dorothy Stafford described him. Yet beside Rod he appeared almost fragile. Beth sensed that Rod and Charlie had immediate respect for each other. Charlie Dillon didn’t make friends easily and she was aware that he had no time at all for Wally Osborne.

  Charlie screwed up his brown, leathery face, and his sharp eyes looked past Rod and rested on Wally, momentarily but scathingly.

  ‘You must have done a good job with Dan’s wool,’ Charlie said. ‘That was a pretty good price, the way the market is right now.’ And, in the next breath, ‘Has Osborne worked a dog yet?’

  ‘Not yet. Why?’ Beth asked.

  ‘It’s just that I can hardly wait.’

  ‘Did you bring a dog, Charlie?’

  ‘Only old Clem. I haven’t had any time to put into young dogs. Been away too much.’ The old bushman looked around and waved to another acquaintance, before taking his leave. ‘Nice to meet you, Rod. I’ll see you later.’

  After farewelling Charlie, Beth told the others she’d take Trump back to her ute. When she had left them, Rod looked at Jim and frowned. ‘Don’t you and Charlie get on?’ he asked.

  ‘Is it that obvious?’ Jim asked.

  ‘It’s that obvious. He didn’t even say hello to you.’

  ‘I don’t have anything against him. It’s just that Charlie has very, very strict morals. He knows something about Wally Osborne that I don’t and he thought I’d teamed up with him. He gave me a hell of a dressing down and told me I should be ashamed of myself. Anyway, I didn’t know what he was on about and I was pretty angry so I told Charlie to mind his own business and I’d look after mine. He told me if I wasn’t Dan’s son he’d give me a damned good hiding because it might do me a lot of good. And that’s about it,’ Jim explained. ‘He hasn’t had the time of day for me since.’

  ‘You’ve certainly queered your pitch there,’ Rod said. ‘I like the old chap. It’s funny how that happens. You meet someone and you either like them or you don’t. Charlie looked me in the eye and he had a good strong handshake. There are a lot of blokes you can’t say that for.’

  ‘I hope you didn’t wreck his hand. He needs it to work the blades,’ Jim said with a grin.

  ‘Ah, so you’re a comedian as well as a halfway decent cricketer.’ Rod nudged him jokingly.

  ‘I’m pleased you used the word decent. Charlie obviously thinks I’m far from decent because of something Wally must have done.’

  ‘I think you’re decent, Jim,’ Helen said softly, taking his hand. ‘I’m sure this misunderstanding will sort itself out.’

  ‘Well, I’d have to agree that there is something disturbing about Wally,’ Rod said firmly.

  ‘Unfortunately, he’s my brother-in-law and, for Bella’s sake, I have to try and get on with him.’

  Rod nodded. ‘How on earth did she fall for a fellow like him?’

  ‘You should ask her, Rod. She had her reasons, which seemed practical at the time, but I don’t think she and Wally are getting on very well just now. I know my sister and she’s not the happy person she used to be.’ A worried frown creased Jim’s forehead.

  ‘That’s a pity. I liked Bella at our first meeting. She’s a fine young woman and she deserves much better than Osborne.’

  ‘Wally’s a funny bloke. He can be charming, but he’s got a nasty side when he drinks,’ Jim said.

  ‘I reckon he’s got a nasty side when he doesn’t drink, Jim. I get the feeling he’s a nasty piece of work generally.’

  Beth returned to the group and as they walked into the shed for lunch she saw that Wally was listed to work his young bitch, Bonny, third dog after the resumption. The story going around the district was that Wally had given a fair bit of money for Bonny, who was regarded as a very promising trial dog.

  Wally and Bella had already taken steak sandwiches away from the shed to eat at one of the outside tables. Beth sighed, and her stomach wrenched at not being able to sit with her sister. She, Rod, Jim and Helen sat at another table and presently Charlie Dillon joined them. ‘Mind if I sit with you?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course not,’ Beth said. She could sense her brother’s discomfort but didn’t want to refuse her old friend.

  Charlie chewed a mouthful of sandwich and then looked sideways at Rod. ‘I heard you did a bit of bowling around these parts not so long ago.’

  ‘It was more than two months ago, Charlie,’ Rod said.

  ‘I used to bowl a bit meself. Medium pacers,’ Charlie said. ‘I heard there was a bit of excitement the day you played.’ There was a glint in the old bushman’s sharp grey eyes.

  ‘Nothing much, really. Just a fellow trying to be a smart-arse,’ Rod said, his tone extremely measured.

  ‘Is that all?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘That’s all.’

  Charlie looked at the big man and reckoned he’d said enough. He sensed that Rod was not the kind of man to play games with. He’d mixed it with a few tough fellows in his time and he reckoned that Rod might be tougher than anyone he’d encountered. He changed the subject. ‘Do you know what’s happening with Glengarry yet, Beth?’

  ‘No, we don’t. Evidently one of Hector’s nephews wants the place but he can’t raise anywhere near enough money to buy the others out. That’s what’s holding things up.’

  ‘Good place, Charlie?’ Rod asked casually.

  ‘A damned good place. There’s a good flock of sheep there, too. They’re not as fine as I’d have them but they cut a fair bit of wool.’

  ‘What do you reckon it will bring on the market?’

  ‘Very hard to say. The wool market is way down, as you know, but properties like Glengarry don’t come up for sale every day. And it doesn’t need any money spent on it. There’s not many around here who could afford it. John Stevens, maybe…’

  The conversation moved on to other things and Charlie studiously ignored Jim, which Rod felt didn’t make for an ideal atmosphere. There was an unspoken but palpable tension at the table and it was a relief when Charlie finally left them.

  ‘I like Charlie but I’d be the first to admit that he’s a strange old bloke at times. He has a very long memory and he certainly holds a grudge,’ Beth noted.

  ‘What you really mean is that he’s a pain in the butt at times,’ Jim said, grimacing. ‘Anyway, it’s time to go and watch more dogs.’

  The first dog to work after lunch was a blue-and-white collie with a walleye and it penned for a score of 73. The next dog crossed, so this brought Wally Osborne and his collie bitch on to the oval. Wally led Bonny out, unclipped her chain and took up his position beside the casting peg. When the bell rang to begin the round, Wally cast Bonny to the right and she swung out in what appeared to be a nice wide cast. However, when she came up level with the sheep and was supposed to turn in to the left to get behind them, she kept going, bounded through the oval fence and raced right away.

  Wally was left standing at the peg with the three wethers at the far end of the ground and no dog to work them. He had no recourse but to walk off carrying Bonny’s chain. There was absolute silence as he left the ground. Having your dog clear
out on you was about the worst thing that could happen to a sheepdog trialler.

  ‘Too much stick,’ Jim said to his sister.

  ‘Too much Wally,’ Beth agreed. ‘Bella told me that Bonny looked very good when Wally bought her. She’s obviously been stood over too much.’

  During this exchange, Rod left them to visit the amenities, which were situated at the far end of the ground. As he came out of the block, he heard a thump and then a muffied yelp. The first yelp was followed by several more. He walked around to the back of the block and saw, perhaps thirty yards away, a white Holden ute with a mesh crate. There were dogs inside but they weren’t what attracted his attention. Behind the ute, a man was bent over, whacking a thick piece of gum stick to something that squirmed and yelped in a chaff bag. Rod wasn’t a dog man but he didn’t need to be to realise that the dog in the bag was Bonny, the bitch that had cleared out on Wally during the trial.

  Rod was instantly outraged, but he wasn’t surprised that someone like Wally would put his dog in a sack so he could flog it without risk to himself. Rod wondered how many times this had happened before. A sheepdog that was born to work sheep, that loved to work sheep, wouldn’t have bolted away from its owner if it was being well treated.

  Wally didn’t hear Rod come up behind him because Bonny was yelping and he was huffing and panting from the belting. In the act of directing another hefty blow at the helpless dog, he felt his right wrist gripped by something that felt like an iron band. ‘What the–’ he shouted. His next words were choked off as he was spun about, picked up and thrown into a heap several yards away. At the same time, Rod roared at the top of his voice, ‘Jim, Beth, get over here.’

  Rod’s shout attracted not only Jim, Beth, Bella and Helen but also several others, including Charlie Dillon. Rod pointed to the chaff bag and then to Osborne, who had struggled to his feet. ‘This rotten mongrel was giving his dog a hiding with that piece of stick. Just the sort of thing a coward would do, eh? What an absolutely pitiful thing to do. Some sportsman,’ he spat contemptuously and turned his back on Wally to give his attention to the dog in the sack.