Valley of the White Gold

by Tony Parsons

  ‘Splendid effort, young man,’ Mayor Cox said as he shook Rod’s hand.

  ‘Thank you,’ Rod said. ‘And thank you for visiting and telling me about your family. I’m very interested in that sort of thing.’

  ‘Come and see me some time and we’ll talk some more,’ Cox said.

  ‘I’ll certainly do that. Are you sure you don’t have even a pet sheep? I mean, a Cox without a sheep is like a dog without a bark,’ Rod said.

  ‘No sheep, Rod. I keep poultry,’ Cox replied with a smile.

  ‘Then I’ll certainly come and see you. I want some decent chooks for Glengarry,’ Rod said.

  William Cox trundled away and Rod walked up and down the room while he waited for Alec.

  ‘Thank goodness,’ Rod said when he and Alec were out of town and heading for Glengarry. ‘Everything all right at home?’

  ‘Everything is fine,’ Alec said.

  ‘Will you be okay to look after things?’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’

  Rod always marvelled at how unflappable this lean, quietly spoken man was. ‘I should be back in time for the Sesqui-Centenary Show,’ he said.

  ‘I reckon you wouldn’t want to miss it. You’ve got some great sheep to show,’ Alec remarked.

  ‘Dan lost about a third of his young rams and a couple of hundred ewes, Alec.’

  ‘So I heard.’

  ‘I want to try and help them in some way.’

  ‘I reckon you already have.’

  ‘Sheep-wise, I mean.’

  ‘The Staffords wouldn’t be expecting any more help from you, Rod. Everyone in the Half Moon knows what you did on Mattai. All the details were on the front page of the paper.’

  ‘That shouldn’t stop me from helping them. I might need their help one day,’ Rod said.

  ‘Dan Stafford has never been noted for his generosity. There’s those that would tell you that what Dan’s given away, he’s still got,’ Alec said with a wry grin.

  ‘No matter. I want to help him in some way.’

  ‘Well, you’re the boss.’ Alec didn’t doubt that his employer would find some way to help Dan. He knew Rod was tough when he had to be but he was absolutely fair too, and generous. He was pleased that Rod and Dan seemed to have settled their differences because neighbours needed to pull together, and because he knew how keen Beth Stafford was on Rod. Jenny Hannaford reckoned that Beth was just the girl for him. Beth and Bella were two great girls. He’d known them since they were little tots and had seen them develop into fine young women. He reckoned that Rod ought to get cracking and put a ring on Beth’s finger before some other fellow got under his guard. Girls like Beth didn’t grow on trees.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  The dance at Gulgong took place the weekend following the fire. Beth had debated whether she should go. They had been very busy at Mattai all that week and she wasn’t really in the mood for a night out. Rod’s absence took any pleasure out of the usual anticipation she felt before a dance. Bella didn’t feel like going either and was anti-men for the time being. Jim and Helen were going, but they’d be so engrossed in each other that they wouldn’t be much company.

  ‘I really think you should go, Beth. A night out will do you good,’ Dorothy urged.

  ‘I’d go like a shot if Rod were here, but my heart really isn’t in it otherwise,’ Beth replied dejectedly.

  ‘Has anyone else asked you?’

  ‘Both Drew and Wes. I told Drew that if I went, I’d go with him. Then Wes rang up and asked me as well. To tell you the truth, I’d prefer to go with Wes as he’s much better company and isn’t sleazy, but I don’t like to break my word to Drew,’ Beth said.

  ‘Sleazy, dear?’ Dorothy asked, raising her eyebrows.

  ‘I just know that one day, or night, Drew is going to put the hard word on me, Mum. Wes would never do that. He’s so sweet and considerate. Maybe too sweet. I know Dad thinks so.’

  ‘Jane Saunders put all her love into Wes because she doesn’t get much from Henry. He’s one of the district’s hardest men. Henry thinks of nothing but the property and he works from daylight to dusk. Wes clearly isn’t cut out to be a farmer, and probably has no desire to be,’ Dorothy observed.

  ‘He told me he wants to be a photographer but of course his father won’t have a bar of that,’ Beth said. ‘Anyway, Drew can take me this time but that’ll be the last. He thinks he’s God’s gift to women. Rod would eat him for breakfast.’ Beth looked wistful.

  ‘Ah, Rod. As soon as he comes back from Sydney we must invite him for dinner,’ Dorothy said. ‘We owe him a dinner and more, and it wouldn’t hurt to progress the friendship now that your father has come to his senses.’

  ‘That’s a great idea,’ Beth agreed. ‘We could lay on a big dinner for him. I’ll ask Jenny Hannaford to find out, discreetly, what sort of food Rod especially likes.’

  The dance at Gulgong was quite fun in the end but Beth felt a little guilty that Wes hadn’t shown up. She hoped he wasn’t angry at her for accepting Drew’s invitation over his, just because Drew had asked first. She enjoyed Wes’s company and considered him a good friend, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt his feelings. Though she did already suspect he had guessed how she felt about Rod.

  Drew was an enthusiastic dancer who liked to get very close to his partner. Too close, Beth decided. He had begun the evening by telling her that she looked terrific. Dorothy had told her the same thing before she left the house. She was wearing a new wine-red dress that Bella had made for her for the occasion and she’d put her hair up at the back. She looked stunning and drew many admiring glances.

  It was late when Drew and Beth left Gulgong. Not far out of town, Beth’s worst fears were realised when Drew put to her the question she’d been anticipating.

  ‘How would you feel about stopping for a while?’ he asked.

  ‘I suppose you mean on the back seat?’ Beth replied.

  Drew took this question as acquiescence and his voice thickened in anticipation of what was to come. Beth Stafford was the most beautiful girl he had ever been out with and her figure was unreal. ‘Mmm, you can do it quite easily in the car if you draw your knees up. You don’t even need the door open,’ Drew said, moving towards her.

  Beth shuddered. The thought of being another scalp on Drew’s belt, especially on the back seat of his car, repulsed her. She had a momentary flash of Rod driving his tractor through the fire and knew better than ever that Drew Stevens simply didn’t rate.

  ‘I’ve got protection, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ Drew said, sensing her aversion. He had found that being prepared in this way made all the difference with some girls.

  ‘Sorry, Drew. I’m just not that sort of girl,’ Beth said primly.

  ‘I see,’ Drew said, clearly stopped in his tracks. He was disappointed but his natural arrogance soon reasserted itself. ‘You don’t know if you don’t ask,’ he added with a grin. ‘I’d be a lot better than that other soppy bloke you’ve been seeing sometimes. What’s his name? Wes Saunders?’

  ‘Wes is a wonderful person,’ Beth fired back defensively.

  ‘Have you ever done it with anyone else?’ Drew asked. ‘You must have been out with lots of fellows before me.’

  ‘That’s none of your business,’ Beth said.

  ‘I suppose not. But I bet Wes isn’t man enough to even ask you.’

  ‘Wes is man enough not to put any pressure on me.’

  ‘Oh well, some girls are hot for it and some aren’t. Like I said, you don’t know if you don’t ask.’

  ‘Drop it, Drew,’ Beth said. This was definitely the last time she’d be going out with him. At least that would be one less complication in her life.

  Wes Saunders had grown up with no love for his domineering father, whom he could never please. By the time he was in his late teens, he’d decided that he didn’t want to stay on the property all his life. His heart lay in photography; he loved to get away into the bush and photograph animals a
nd birds and dramatic landscapes. But Henry Saunders wasn’t willing to support his son’s move in any artistic direction. He ensured that Wes stayed on the property by paying him a pittance for all the work he did, leaving him without the means to pursue his photography seriously.

  Wes thought that Beth Stafford was the loveliest girl in the entire world, though he hadn’t had much experience with women. He felt that if Beth were his girlfriend he could put up with his father and life on the property, for the time being at least. But when Beth hinted to Wes that she couldn’t be his girlfriend because she loved someone else, he became very depressed about his future. Beth did tell him that she liked him a lot, but that wasn’t the same. He hit rock bottom when his father shot the collie cross dog who’d been his constant companion since his early teens. The dog, Ben, had loved Wes as much as he’d loved it. Ben had gone with him whenever he went away into the hills to take photos.

  ‘Where’s Ben?’ Wes had asked his father when he came back from shifting sheep to another paddock.

  ‘I shot the bugger. He wasn’t a worker and there’s no point keeping dogs that don’t work,’ Saunders said, snorting contemptuously.

  ‘You shot him? How could you? Ben was my dog. You didn’t have to shoot him. You could have taken his food out of what you don’t pay me,’ Wes shouted. He had never even dared raise his voice to his father before, but he was now the angriest he’d ever been.

  ‘It’s my place and I say what goes and what doesn’t,’ Saunders said harshly.

  ‘You can have your place. I’ve had enough of it and of you too!’ Wes yelled as he turned on his heel and stormed down the track, away from the homestead.

  When Wes didn’t turn up for lunch, Jane Saunders went looking for him. She was aware that her husband had shot Ben, even though she had pleaded with him not to because she knew how her son treasured his dog. But just as most of her previous entreaties had come to naught, it had been no use. Jane knew that Wes would be very upset and would need comforting. She knew he had to be somewhere on the property because the vehicles were all in the shed.

  Wes had been dead for hours when she found him. He had shot himself, leaving a note saying that nobody really understood him. For a young man of Wes’s gentle nature the prospect of more of the same treatment that was dished out by his father was so daunting that he wanted no more of it.

  Jane phoned Beth that evening. She couldn’t say much because she was too broken-hearted to talk coherently, but Beth managed to make out that Wes had committed suicide.

  Beth was devastated. Why hadn’t Wes spoken to her about how depressed he was? Had her head been so high up in the clouds about Rod that she hadn’t noticed how low he felt?

  At Wes’s funeral, Beth asked Jane if there had been anything that had made Wes more depressed than usual.

  ‘Henry shot Ben. I believe that was the last straw for him,’ Jane said. Her face seemed to have aged incredibly in the last week.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Jane,’ Beth said. ‘I wish he’d spoken to me.’

  ‘Wes was very fond of you, Beth. I think he hoped you’d be his girlfriend one day. He felt comfortable with you – he felt you understood him, although he guessed your heart lay somewhere else. Of course Henry never understood Wes. He was far too hard on him. If he’d let him do his photography, Wes would still be alive,’ Jane said, unable to hold back her tears. She knew she’d given in to her husband far too much and felt she was partly to blame for her son’s death.

  The day after the funeral, Jane packed two bags and carried them out to the Holden. There was a lot more she could have taken but none of it mattered now. She left a note on the kitchen table that Henry Saunders found when he returned from the paddocks.

  I’ve left you and I’m not coming back. You can buy yourself another car as I’ve done enough for you during our marriage to own this one. You wrecked Wes’s life but you’re not going to wreck the rest of mine. There’s got to be more to life than you and this cursed property. Jane

  Beth wasn’t aware of Jane’s departure until some weeks later, when she received a letter from Sydney. Jane was living there in a flat temporarily and had found herself a job. It was the closing lines of her letter that touched Beth most deeply.

  Wes was very fond of you, Beth. If you two had been closer, perhaps things would have worked out differently. But please don’t think I am blaming you for his death. He needed someone other than me to love him. He was that kind of boy. You and your sister were always so nice to Wes. I hope that we can get together some time in the future.

  Yours very sincerely Jane Saunders

  Beth held Jane’s letter out to her mother, who read it and handed it back to her. ‘It’s very sad, but you mustn’t feel responsible,’ Dorothy said. ‘He was a lovely young man but so insecure. And far too soft for the land and for the father he had.’

  ‘I feel awful, but I didn’t love him, Mum. He was just a boy who took me to some dances. He was more of a gentleman than some of the others, and I kissed him goodnight a couple of times, but that’s all there was to it,’ Beth said.

  ‘I know all that, dear. Wes’s death was very unfortunate. But some people seem too sensitive for this life, which can be so cruel, and there was nothing you could have done. At least you were some company for him,’ Dorothy said.

  ‘You’re so lucky if you know where you’re going in life,’ Beth said. ‘I couldn’t imagine Rod taking his life. He’s got too much to live for, too much he wants to do.’

  ‘He’s certainly working towards a vision,’ said Dorothy. ‘He knows where he’s going, and I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.’

  ‘What do you mean, Mum?’

  ‘You just wait and see.’

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Rod paced up and down the lounge room of Sheilagh Lane’s apartment while she sat in her Eames chair and watched him closely. The lounge, like the remainder of Sheilagh’s unit, was furnished sparsely but expensively. The furniture was ultra modern, with a black, white and red colour scheme, and there was a bright, multicoloured abstract painting on one wall. It was only in Sheilagh’s study that there was dis-order of any kind – overstacked shelves of books and a large desk on which lay huge piles of manuscripts.

  ‘Ease up, for goodness sake. You’re wearing out my carpet,’ Sheilagh said sharply.

  Rod ceased his pacing and looked down at her. He’d had enough of Sydney and was ready to go back to Glengarry after his hospital stay and a few days of recuperation at Sheilagh’s. He was a little on edge because he’d decided that he had to settle things with Sheilagh so he could get on with his life. He wasn’t at all sure how she’d react.

  Sheilagh knew that something was troubling Rod. For Love Alone had earned a packet of money and made it possible for him to buy Glengarry, but she was aware that the property was only the foundation for all that he wanted to achieve. She was also aware that he couldn’t do it without a partner, a female partner.

  Rod walked around behind Sheilagh and gently placed one of his large hands on her shoulder. ‘You’ve made it all possible, Sheilagh. The life I’ve always dreamt of leading.’

  Sheilagh looked up at him affectionately. She was very fond of Rod but she didn’t love him. She had never truly loved a man; each man she’d been in a relationship with had been merely an interlude in her life. Her passion was her work. But Rod had certainly been the most interesting and by far the best of her lovers.

  ‘Now, look here, Roddy. I don’t want you to go overboard about my contribution to your success. Finding new authors and successful books is my business and I’ve made money from yours – enough to keep me happy for a long time yet. You might feel you’re in some sort of debt to me, but you aren’t. I’m glad you’ve got Glengarry now but I really can’t relate to that part of your life. I couldn’t live in the bush and I’m sure I wouldn’t relate to your sheepy people. This is where I belong.’

  Rod was silent; his mind was spinning. Was she really letting him off the h
ook?

  ‘I’m forty-one, ten years older than you. I’m too old to begin a family and I get the feeling you want to start quite a dynasty at Glengarry! You want children and I’m not the woman to give them to you. I don’t even like children. We’ve had some great moments, but I think it’s time for you to move on, Roddy,’ Sheilagh said softly.

  A great wave of relief washed over Rod. Sheilagh had just set him free. He knew that he’d remember her for the rest of his life. She didn’t look her forty-one years, and her naturally wavy hair was touched up to keep it blonde. Her skin had a kind of glow about it, but it was what she had up top that made her so special. She was truly the most perceptive and intelligent woman he had ever met and he would always be grateful for the influence she had had on his life.

  Sheilagh also had a lot of commonsense.

  ‘Anyway, what’s she like?’ she asked him now.

  ‘What’s who like?’ he countered.

  ‘This girl you’ve met. You have met one, haven’t you?’

  Rod nodded. He wasn’t going to deny Beth’s existence. He had done nothing to be ashamed of and he hadn’t made any sort of commitment to Beth. He’d held her at arm’s length while he’d waited to sort things out with Sheilagh.

  ‘Yes, I have. She’s twenty-one. Nothing serious, so far. Just friends. Beth’s probably very disappointed in me because I’ve kept things very cool between us.’

  ‘So what’s she like?’

  ‘She’s nowhere near as worldly or sophisticated as you, but she’s the most beautiful and capable girl I’ve ever met. She rides very well and trains sheepdogs. She can also shear a sheep and class wool.’

  ‘Good heavens, what are you waiting for? She sounds like just the woman you need. Do you love her?’