Valley of the White Gold

by Tony Parsons

  ‘Where did they come from?’ Dan asked. ‘They’ve got a different tip to our sheep.’

  ‘Yes, they would have. Rod hasn’t had them up here very long. They were running on my place at Yass until he shifted them to Glengarry,’ Berryman explained.

  ‘Why isn’t Rod here?’ Jim asked.

  ‘He thought it best if I handled his sheep. It appears that you people have some funny ideas about Rod and he didn’t want any unpleasantness to surface here. Pity, really. He’s a top fellow. I can’t imagine why anyone would think otherwise,’ Berryman said bluntly. Dan chose not to reply, staring grimly into the distance instead.

  This interchange set the atmosphere for the judging of the Supreme Merino Exhibit. Dan’s ram and Rod’s ewe came out and, after an examination of both sheep, the judge decided in favour of the ewe. Dan was so disappointed that he could hardly speak. It wasn’t that he disagreed with the judge’s opinion; he was a judge himself and he had to admit that the ewe was almost faultless. And it wasn’t that his ram was a poor specimen, because he wasn’t. It was the fact that Rod Cameron had beaten Dan’s best sheep the very first time they had competed against each other.

  Later, after Dan had consumed two biggish slugs of whisky to console himself, he went back to the shed to talk sheep. The Saxon ewe was in a raised pen with the Supreme ribbon stretched across it and a number of the district’s best woolgrowers were admiring her. Charlie Dillon was val0002413 outside the pen, proclaiming to all and sundry that she was the best ewe he’d ever seen in that pavilion and that the younger ewe would be just as good as her the following year.

  Dan’s mood deteriorated from disappointment to depression. He stood and listened to the local sheepmen praise Rod’s ewes, while his own Grand Champion Ram occupied a minor role in the discussion. It was clear that Rod’s two prestigious awards on top of his acquisition of Glengarry had made a huge impression on local growers. Dan now realised that Rod was going to be a very tough competitor. He had seen from what Rod did with the Mattai clip that he knew fine wool but it was clear that he also knew the sheep side of the business. That made him a very real threat to Dan’s own standing as the premier fine-wool stud breeder of the Mudgee district.

  ‘Rod’s going to push us really hard, Dad,’ Jim said solemnly, returning to his father’s side after inspecting the prize-winning ewe more closely. ‘He knows what he’s doing. You can’t deny that.’ Although he wouldn’t admit it to his father, Jim reckoned that having Rod to show and sell against was going to liven things up considerably.

  ‘Yes, he knows what he’s doing, I’ll give him that. He’s damned lucky, too,’ Dan growled. What really worried him, although he hadn’t voiced it to Jim yet, was that in twelve months’ time there would be a special sheep show in Mudgee to commemorate 150 years of white settlement and sheep breeding in the district. Foremost in Dan’s mind were the two special trophies to be awarded for Grand Champion Fleece and the best sheep exhibited by a Central Tablelands stud. For a long time he’d believed that he was in with a big chance to win one or both of these awards and have Mattai entrenched as the district’s leading merino stud. That was before today when Rod had cleaned him up in the competition with both sheep and wool. Dan knew that he didn’t have a ewe that would develop well enough in time, so it would depend on whether one of his current two-tooth rams would come up well enough to win. Dan reckoned there were only two of these rams that showed real promise and they would need special attention to ensure that they developed well. What also worried Dan was that, although he didn’t know exactly what Rod had in the way of young rams, Alec Hannaford had told him that Rod had brought some good young rams up from Yass. After seeing the result of Rod’s efforts today, Dan was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be messing about with second-raters. Jim was right: Rod was going to make the going a lot tougher for them.

  ‘I wouldn’t say that Rod is simply lucky. He makes his own luck, Dad. We’ll just have to try a bit harder. How about we pick out three or four of the best two-tooth rams and feed them a special mix with milk powder in it?’ Jim suggested. He knew that some horse cranks fed it to their show horses. There was a growth factor in milk powder that made it especially valuable for feeding to animals. It was too costly to include in the rations of all their housed sheep but perhaps they could use it for a few special ones.

  ‘Good idea. Let’s put a few straight onto it,’ Dan agreed. He’d need a super ram to beat either of Rod’s ewes but he’d have to give it a go. His reputation was at stake and he certainly didn’t want to lose out to someone like Rod.

  Wally had had mixed feelings about going to the Mudgee Show. If Rod Cameron hadn’t been in the vicinity, he wouldn’t have hesitated, but he was apprehensive about meeting him face to face. Wally realised that Rod saw right through him. Yet it seemed grossly unfair that one man should stand in his way. He had entered wool in the flock classes and he wanted to see how it flared fared.

  Wally wasn’t an outstanding specimen of the human race but he did know fine wool and he was full of admiration for Rod’s winning fleece. He looked at it for a long time before checking on his own entries. He found he had won a couple of prizes for flock sheep but he knew that his fleeces were well below Rod’s winning fleece in weight and quality. That was only to be expected, as wool from housed stud sheep nearly always weighed much more than wool from paddock-grazed sheep.

  In the pavilion Wally and Bella sat and watched the sheep-judging that culminated with the award for Supreme Exhibit. Wally wasn’t surprised when Rod’s ewe took the honour. ‘Come on,’ he said roughly to Bella when the Supreme sash was placed on Rod’s ewe.

  ‘Aren’t we going to have a look at her?’ Bella asked. Real sheep enthusiasts always inspected the wool of the winning sheep. She had been disappointed to discover that Rod wasn’t in the pavilion, even though she had no desire to witness another confrontation between him and Wally.

  ‘I know what she’ll be like,’ Wally said. He was fed up with hearing about Rod, and his latest successes soured him even more. All he wanted to do was get to the bar and forget all about him. ‘I’m going to have a drink. Dorothy and Beth are in the other aisle so you can join them. I’ll meet you back here at four o’clock.’

  Bella had a few words with her mother and sister and then left the wool pavilion. She sat for a blissful two hours watching the ring events and was able to forget about her problems briefly. She loved having some time to herself, with all her attention focused on horses. If only she didn’t have to go back to Wally, she sighed. Or, better still, could go back to a husband she really loved, someone who would sit and watch the horse events together with her for a while.

  Bella met up with her family again for afternoon tea. Wally was with them, loud and belligerent and flushed with booze. ‘The big fellow gave you a caning, Dan. Wiped the floor with you,’ he said.

  ‘You can say that again,’ Dan said moodily.

  ‘Bloody good effort for a writer, eh, Dan?’ Wally said with a smirk. He had to take his grudge out on someone and Dan happened to be the nearest available target.

  ‘That’s enough, Wally,’ Bella whispered to him.

  ‘I wonder what Cameron will do when he really gets going. Take all your ram clients?’ Wally continued, ignoring his wife.

  Dan knew that there was no way he’d lose all his clients but he probably stood to lose some and that was a concern. ‘Cameron won’t take many from me,’ he growled.

  ‘You better buy a good ram from him,’ Wally continued, and laughed loudly.

  ‘That’ll be the day,’ Dan said. He’d had enough of Wally. Losing to Rod was bad enough but for his son-in-law to rib him about it was too much. If the women hadn’t been with him, he would have told Wally to shove off, but for Bella’s sake he didn’t want to start a row. She looked very uncomfortable.

  ‘Don’t you worry, Dan. If Cameron writes another hot book, he can buy you out and then you won’t have to worry about him.’ Wally lurched to his feet, pulled B
ella up by the arm and together they walked out of the pavilion. The stricken look on Bella’s face was not lost on Dorothy.

  Dan watched Wally and Bella leave and then turned back to his second cup of tea. Wally had always presented his best side to Dan but he had now seen his mongrel side and he didn’t like what he saw. He reckoned that perhaps Beth was right about Bella being unhappy with Wally. That is certainly how it had seemed today.

  Not so very many miles away from the showground, and oblivious of the success of his sheep, Rod Cameron was watching water pouring from the six-inch pipe his boring contractor had put down. When measured, it looked as if they’d get 8000 gallons an hour, which was more than sufficient for him to be able to run sprinklers on his newly subdivided paddocks. This water would assure him of a plentiful year-round supply of green feed.

  Rod had divining skills. He had discovered them some years ago when he’d been playing about with a piece of wire and found it quivering and dipping in his hand. page_251, he’d had success in locating water in several different locations for various farmers. A day or two after taking up residence at Glengarry, Rod walked the paddocks adjacent to the homestead in search of underground water. It seemed that nobody in the area had ever looked concertedly for a large water supply because they simply reckoned it wasn’t there. Rod couldn’t see why there wouldn’t be water, given the hills behind him. When he saw his piece of wire jerk downwards, he believed he was right. He hired a drilling team who were carting about a new type of rotary drilling machinery that was much faster than the old-style percussion unit. Some of the locals heard about it and said he was crazy and that it would be a waste of his money, but Rod stuck to his guns. The wire had indicated there was a good supply below the house, and that’s where they drilled.

  What Rod needed to truly establish Glengarry as a stud-breeding establishment was a supply of water plentiful enough to service his stud paddocks and also irrigate a stand of lucerne that would provide hay and chaff for his sheep. What he got was the best supply anyone could have hoped for in the valley of the Half Moon.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Charlie Dillon’s was the most remote property in the Half Moon valley. It had been the last of the land taken up by the early settlers, as it had been regarded as the least valuable. A lot of Charlie’s land was ridgy and light (outsiders were less charitable and described it as poor), but it produced very fine wool and excellent honey. Most of Charlie’s earnings had been made from shearing, but he earned a quid wherever he could. He had split posts, trapped rabbits, shot foxes and broken in and shod horses for the people of the valley, just as his father and grandfather had done before him. Charlie was now an old man and, up to this point, still owed no man a favour. Charlie and Dolly were a very respected couple because they lived hard but honestly. If Charlie owed someone five cents, he would walk five miles to give it back and he expected the same honesty in return. Even the most illustrious graziers in the district respected Charlie.

  Charlie’s main claim to fame was his prowess as a shearer. He was a good shearer with the handpiece but he was an absolute artist with the blades and very much sought after by several of the big merino studs.

  There was no doubt that Charlie had his peculiar ways and especially so when it came to the sheep business. Now, he had just pulled off what he regarded as a very satisfactory coup. Through a Dubbo source known only to himself, he had learned that a certain well-known fine-wool breeder was about to sell some old ewes because he was getting short of feed. To prevent any of the local sheepbreeders getting hold of these well-bred ewes, their owner had trucked them to the Dubbo saleyards where he was confident they wouldn’t be recognised. Charlie drove to Dubbo and because he knew exactly the breeding and the value of these old ewes, he was able to pick up a good draft of them for a very reasonable price. What gave Charlie enormous satisfaction was that the ewes would be trucked back past their old property on their way to him. Their breeder never discovered that Charlie had obtained a draft of his ewes and that they gave him a fresh line of fine-wool sheep.

  Driving back from Dubbo that evening, Charlie was feeling very pleased with himself. But he was an old man and the drive home was tiring after an early start that morning. It was almost dark when the big grey roo bounded out of the scrub that lined the Half Moon Creek. Charlie was a fraction of a second too late when he saw it. He swerved in an attempt to miss it and when the Holden’s wheels touched the gravel at the edge of the bitumen, he lost control of the vehicle. The car veered sharply down the slope, smashing through some low scrub and landing on its side with an enormous bang. This was followed by an eerie silence.

  Rod Cameron had been to Sydney for a couple of days to see Sheilagh Lane and to discuss some publishing matters. He had gone down with the firm intention of ending their affair but things hadn’t worked out as he’d intended. He owed Sheilagh so much that he hadn’t the heart to tell her about Beth. It was unlike him to procrastinate and he realised he would have to tell her but he had put it off once again, not wanting to hurt Sheilagh.

  Rod was lost in his dilemma with Beth and Sheilagh when he saw the other car in his headlights. It was lying on its side almost at the end of the bitumen, only a short distance from the Glengarry turn-off.

  There was a strong smell of petrol in the air as Rod stepped out of his ute. He had parked it so that its headlights illuminated the scene. Taking a torch from the glove box, he ran down the slope to the car. The smell of petrol became stronger as he drew closer, which worried him greatly. The torch’s beam revealed a single occupant slumped across the steering wheel. The man appeared to be either unconscious or dead. The driver’s door creaked open reluctantly as Rod tugged at it frantically before reaching in and turning off the ignition. Placing his left arm around the man, who uttered a feeble groan, he used his right hand to release the seat belt. Holding the victim firmly, he quickly weighed up the situation now that he knew the man was alive. He could leave him where he was while he drove to Glengarry to report the accident, or he could remove him and take him directly to hospital. Rod realised that there was a risk involved in moving the victim but also knew that leaving him there was even more dangerous – judging by the fumes, the car could explode at any moment.

  It wasn’t until he’d got the man as gently as possible out of the vehicle and was carrying him up the slope towards the beam of his headlights that he realised, with shock, that it was Charlie Dillon. ‘Poor old cuss,’ he muttered. He took a rug from the front of the ute and laid it on the straw in the back. He put Charlie on part of the rug and wrapped the other half of it around him. Then he reversed the ute up the slope and headed back towards the main road to Mudgee.

  Rod was speeding through the town limits so fast that Constables Burke and Lee, who’d had a fairly uneventful evening so far, thought all their Christmases had come at once. They’d been on the lookout for hoons but none had shown up tonight. Until now.

  The constables waved down the ute and Rod pulled up but didn’t turn off the ignition. ‘Sorry, but I’ve got old Charlie Dillon unconscious in the back,’ he called urgently out his window. ‘He had an accident on the Mattai Road. Can you go ahead and clear the way for me?’

  Senior Constable Burke looked in at the unconscious man and then jerked his thumb towards his partner. The police car shot ahead with its siren wailing and Rod followed in its wake. The two vehicles pulled up at the front of the hospital with a scream of brakes and Rod was running into casualty before the two constables had even opened their doors. They stood by while Charlie was placed on a stretcher and wheeled inside.

  Once Rod had given the desk sister the details she requested, he rejoined the two officers.

  ‘I hope I did the right thing. It was a dicey situation,’ Rod said anxiously. He gave the officers a few more details before they left to check Charlie’s vehicle. He then went back to the desk sister.

  ‘Would you mind ringing Mr Dillon’s wife so she knows what’s happened? Tell her I’m on my way. I
’ll go out now and get her so she can be with her husband. I’m not sure that they have a second car,’ Rod said.

  On his way back out of Mudgee, Rod called in at the motel and told them what had happened. He wrote out a cheque for two nights’ accommodation. ‘Tell Mrs Dillon the room is paid for two nights. She can stay here while they find out what’s what with Charlie,’ he instructed.

  It was the first time Rod had travelled to the end of the Mattai Road, and it took him about fifty minutes to reach the Dillon property at the far end of the valley. The property was marked by a gate with the name ‘Killarney’ painted on a strip of tin. Cameron opened the gate and drove up a rough gravelled track to the old weatherboard house. There was a light over the front steps that gave access to a wide verandah. The front door was open and he was met by a small, grey-haired woman. ‘I’m Rod Cameron, Mrs Dillon. Are you ready to leave?’ he asked.

  ‘I am and many thanks to you for coming. Is my Charlie all right? The sister said he’d regained consciousness but that it had been a serious accident.’

  Rod could tell that Dolly was a strong old woman, but she was clearly shaken and looking for reassurance. He gave her a reassuring hug. ‘He’s in good hands, Mrs Dillon, and I’ll have you by his bedside as soon as possible.’

  ‘It’s very kind of you, and please, call me Dolly,’ she said.

  Once at the hospital, Rod carried Dolly’s bag inside and left her with a night sister. ‘Can someone see that she gets to the motel when she’s ready to leave? If there’s any more I can do for her, have someone ring me at Glengarry, please. Now, what’s the score on Mr Dillon?’

  ‘Mr Dillon has severe concussion, cracked ribs and a dislocated left shoulder. That’s what we’ve ascertained at this early stage. It doesn’t seem to be any more serious, fortunately.’

  Rod nodded. It could have been so much worse. Charlie had been very lucky and he would live to shear more sheep and win more prizes with his wool.