by Tony Parsons
‘Aw, all right, I guess. There’s more kids and more teachers, and a lot more sport.’
‘Do your best, Davie. I know you will.’
‘Don’t worry about us. We’ll manage.’
‘I know. I have a lot of faith in you.’
‘Thanks, Dad. I wish you didn’t have to go, but I know you do.’
There were tears in Anne’s eyes when she kissed her husband goodbye. ‘I’ll miss you an awful lot, you know,’ she said as he held her close.
Andrew nodded. ‘I hate like hell to have to go but there’s no other way.’
‘Promise me you won’t overdo things trying to ring every shed. Let the younger shearers do that.’
Anne and David stood together at the bottom of the steps as Andy MacLeod drove away for the Queensland shearing sheds. Andy’s departure would leave a big hole in Anne’s life: they had lived and worked together as closely as any couple could. Anne knew that Andy had never looked at another woman from the day he had met her, and she was sure he never would.
Although David wished that his father did not have to go away, he welcomed the extra responsibility that had come his way. If he didn’t have to go to school during the week, he would be the happiest boy in the country. The teachers and some of the kids took a lot of putting up with, as they had no idea of what his life entailed.
He sighed and then put one arm around his mother’s waist. Anne’s eyes were still fixed on the road down which her husband had driven.
‘We’ll be right, Mum. You’ve got me now.’
She bent over and gently kissed the top of his head. ‘Thank God for that,’ she said.
In town, the cat was out of the bag. The news that the MacLeods had bought Poitrel had spread. Angus Campbell was ropable, not just because he had missed out on the land but because Wilf White had chosen Andy MacLeod over him. What’s more, the MacLeods now had under their control the best lot of thoroughbred mares in the district. He was under no illusions about that. That old fool White did know thoroughbreds. And he had also given his top mare to young David. Angus appreciated that he had never bred a mare as good as Ajana, and he knew for a fact that a six-figure offer had been made for her. If the MacLeods wanted to race her locally, she would wipe the floor with everything else. And what was David doing with her? Riding her about to look at cows? A mare worth six figures being used as a stock horse. It was incredible.
The whole set-up was unbelievable. The question was on everybody’s lips: How could a kid and two women run over 7000 acres of range country? It was ridiculous.
Chapter Fourteen
The next few years were very tough for the MacLeods. They were years of constant effort for Andrew, Anne and David, and Kate threw her weight behind the others, too. They were years that saw David develop from a boy to a young man, the transition beginning the day his father drove out of the driveway at High Peaks away to the shearing sheds of Queensland. David followed his father’s example every way he could in the management of the two properties. He revelled in the extra responsibility and in the extra stock work, which was meat and drink to him.
At sixteen, David was as big as his father – perhaps three inches over six feet, and with shoulders the width of a door. He was, according to all the local girls – and especially Catriona Campbell’s bosom friend, Susan Cartwright – the best-looking boy in the district. But David still showed little interest in girls. He was diffident about saying much at all, but no boy at the high school took him lightly.
Despite preoccupation with weekend work at High Peaks and Poitrel, David had worked Lad in two local trials and broken in one of his sons. This son David considered to be the best dog of all three that he had owned. His name was Nap.
At the first of the two local sheepdog trials he had entered while his father was away, David won the Novice with Lad and ran second in the Open, beaten by a point by an experienced border collie. Although his father had always taught him to cast a dog to the head of sheep, in the Open Trial he hadn’t done that. The sheep were walking into a westerly wind and he thought Lad might stop short and thereby lose casting points. So David cast Lad around to the right, and by the time the dog got around, the sheep were well off course and he had lost several points for it. He learned that day that he simply had to have more confidence in his dog.
The following year he did win the Open with Lad, but, tragically, a fortnight later the dog was killed. Lad used to love to sit with his head through the horse yard while David educated a young horse. The tragedy happened when one of these horses kicked backwards and split Lad’s head open. David looked down at his faithful friend, whom he knew was dying, and felt as if his heart would burst. Lad was the first dog he had won an Open Trial with and he’d been his loyal companion for the past five years. He remembered his father’s admonition about losing his heart to a dog, so he kept his grief locked up inside. Even Anne was not aware that Lad had died until several days later. David laid him to rest alongside the dog’s father and carried on his training with Lad’s son, Nap.
High school was just as much of a trial for David as primary school had been, only more so because he was away from home longer each day. Sport was compulsory, and although he had asked his mother several times if he could be excused, she always turned him down. She felt that David should have a normal education. He had more to do at home than any other boy in the district, and she did not consider it fair that he should have to work while other children were playing. She knew that David wasn’t keen on sport, but it was an important part of his education. He had his own sport, whip-cracking, at which he was now considered to be without equal. He appeared as a guest turn at almost every travelling ‘Wild West’ show staged in the district.
David had developed a reputation as a young man not to be trifled with on any account. He could crack two whips simultaneously and could cut leaves in two with both. By the time he was fourteen, he was able to use a ten-foot whip with ease, although he preferred shorter whips for exhibition work. One feat was to cut a single leaf from a tree. His twice daily exhibitions at the local show always pulled in a big crowd. And when he asked for volunteers to hold things for him, there was usually a rush of girls anxious to be noticed by him. David practised constantly and was always adding new things to his routine.
School subjects bored him to tears. He hated mathematics and loathed algebra. He found them totally irrelevant and a complete waste of time. The only lesson he really liked was Australian bush poetry. He came to memorise every bush poem he read, but, to his regret, there was not much time devoted to the likes of Henry Lawson and Banjo Paterson.
There was continuing argument between himself and his mother over what he should do after Year 10. Anne – and Kate, too, for that matter – felt that he should stay the extra two years so he could get into a course such as agricultural science – just in case things didn’t work out for them on the land. But David said that it was silly for him to stay another two years when there was so much to do at home.
During the four years since Catriona Campbell had finished primary school, she continued her schooling in Sydney. David saw her very seldom, perhaps only four or five times while he was at high school. After one of her rare visits home, Anne remarked that Catriona grew ‘prettier and prettier’, but David was still indifferent to Catriona, and her looks.
Despite her enforced absence from David, Catriona still seemed to be anything but indifferent to him. She was also aware that she faced competition from Susan Cartwright. Not that the Cartwright family was any more keen on a liaison between their daughter and David MacLeod than the Campbell family was. Both families had much grander matrimonial plans for their daughters.
One Sunday morning towards the end of David’s final week of Year 10, he was driving some cows and calves along the road from High Peaks to Poitrel. They were still building cattle numbers at Poitrel, having culled some of the poorer quality beasts they had inherited with the property.
A grey utility was coming
down the other side of the road. It was travelling very fast, too fast by far for the gravel surface, and much too fast in the presence of stock. David immediately recognised the vehicle and the two men in it. The one driving was Bill Missen, and the other was his younger brother, Wade.
The ute made no attempt to slow down as it drew closer to the little bunch of cows and vealers. A white-faced steer vealer plunged sideways from the mob and the ute slammed into it and didn’t even try to stop. There was no way that the driver could have failed to realise he had hit the vealer. David cantered his horse to where the poor vealer lay injured on the road. He realised with desperation that there was no way he could save it.
David pulled the dying calf off the road and saw the mob into the nearest paddock. It was only half a mile or so on to the Poitrel homestead which was his destination. Kate was working in the vegetable garden and she rested one foot on her spade when she saw David riding up the driveway.
‘Can you drive me down to the Missen place, please? And would you also bring me the .410 from the house?’
‘David, what’s the matter?’
‘You’ll see,’ he said.
‘Do I need to change my clothes?’ Kate asked.
‘No, I just want you to drive.’
‘Pull up here for a moment,’ he said when they reached the stricken calf. He took the gun and shot the animal in the head, then cut its throat with his stock knife so that it would be bled by the time they returned. He hated losing good calves, whatever the reason, but to lose one to two hoons like the Missen boys was simply not on.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘On to the Missen place.’
The Missen property was a few miles past Inverlochy on the road to Merriwa. David knew Roy Missen slightly, as he had accompanied Andy to the Missens’ property on horse business on a couple of occasions. Roy was acknowledged to be a decent fellow and a good worker on his place, but his two boys were wild. They had been in trouble with the police, and many people thought that it was because Roy had been too easy on them. Bessie Missen thought her boys could do no wrong, and because Roy loved his wife he went along with her.
Kate parked the Falcon at the front steps of the homestead and David picked up his whip and got out. ‘You want any help?’ Kate asked, pointing to the gun.
David gave her a tight grin. ‘I hope not. Roy’s a decent fellow. He won’t want to see his boys cut about.’
‘Is that what you’re going to do?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Only if Roy doesn’t pay for the vealer,’ David said.
He turned and walked up the steps. The butt of the whip applied to the front door made a fair enough clatter to rouse anyone.
When Roy appeared, David said pleasantly enough, ‘Good morning, Mr Missen.’
‘Hello, David. What can I do for you?’
‘I’ve come to get a cheque from you for a steer calf.’
‘What did you say?’ Missen replied sharply.
David repeated his request and Missen frowned. ‘Would you mind explaining that?’
‘About half an hour ago, Bill and Wade drove past me on the Poitrel road where I was shifting a mob of cattle. Bill was driving like a maniac and he hit one of our vealers, which I had to destroy. They didn’t stop, although they knew what they had done, so I want you to pay for the vealer.’
‘You do, eh? Well, what if I don’t?’
‘Then I’ll flog your two boys until they can’t stand up any more. We aren’t busting our guts to pay off a property so your boys can get away with killing one of our animals.’
‘Now, hang on there. You can’t go about the country threatening that sort of thing. I won’t have it,’ Missen said heatedly.
‘Then you should teach your boys to respect other people’s property. If you don’t believe what I’m telling you, get them out here and ask them yourself.’
‘Bill, Wade, get out here,’ Missen thundered.
The boys emerged from the house looking anxiously towards their father and the grim-faced young giant holding a coiled whip. David MacLeod had a fearsome reputation with his fists, but an even more fearsome reputation with stockwhips. Their eyes dropped to the roo-hide whip which he held loosely in his right hand. Then their glances took in Kate leaning against her red car.
‘Did you fellas drive past David while he was driving cattle this morning?’ he asked.
Bill and Wade dropped their eyes and Wade licked his lips nervously.
‘Well, did you?’ his father demanded.
‘Yes, Pa,’ Bill answered.
‘Did you hit one of his vealers?’
‘Well, we weren’t sure, Pa,’ Bill said.
‘You weren’t sure? Did you stop to make sure?’
‘No, Pa,’ Bill said for both boys. Wade couldn’t tear his eyes away from the whip in David’s hand.
‘David says you were driving too fast, hit a vealer and kept going. If that’s what happened, there’ll be some evidence of it on the utility. We’ll go and have a look,’ Missen said.
David followed the three Missens down the front steps and around to the back of the house where the grey Holden utility was parked under a big old gum tree. Blind Freddie could have seen the smashed front light and the red hair adhering to it. Roy looked from his sons to the tall figure of David MacLeod. His mind went back to the last district show when he had seen this young man do things with stockwhips that he had not imagined possible. There was little doubt that David was quite capable of giving Bill and Wade a flogging. The MacLeods were like that: nobody ever messed with Big Andy, and from what Roy had heard, David was going to be even tougher.
‘How much are you wanting for the vealer?’
‘Market value for a steer vealer. Same as you’d get for one of yours. No more, no less.’
‘Come up to the house and I’ll give you a cheque. Bill, Wade, wait here. I’ll be back to talk to you shortly.’
Roy went into his office and wrote out a cheque for the dead calf. David glanced at the figure, nodded and put the cheque in his pocket. Missen held out his hand and David shook it.
‘I’m sorry about your calf, David,’ he said, sounding genuine.
‘So am I, Mr Missen.’
‘You’re a hard young fella, David. Anyone ever tell you that?’ Missen said, looking up into David’s serious face.
‘No, but nobody has ever killed a calf on me before. I hope for your sake that Bill and Wade never do anything like that again. Good morning.’
Roy watched the tall young man as he walked down the front steps and out to the red Falcon. You had to hand it to him – he was only a boy in age yet he was more of a man than most.
Later that day, Kate took enormous pride in recounting the details of her morning to Anne. David had only given her the bare details when he had handed over the cheque. Anne decided to let the matter drop. But a week or so later there was an even more dramatic confrontation involving her son, and this time Anne was a spectator. School had finished for the year and Anne was taking David to town to have him fitted out with new clothes. He had virtually grown out of his others. They were driving along the main Merriwa-Cassilis road when they came upon a droving plant. There was a long line of sheep feeding out down the road and a droving plant stationary in the shade of a few box trees. David’s eyes flicked across the scene and locked on to something that made his blood run cold. ‘Quick, Mum, drive over there. See, where those men are.’
‘David, what is it?’ Anne asked in alarm as she spun the car off the road towards the plant.
‘Don’t you see?’ he said grimly.
He bent to the tool box on the floor and took from it a pair of fencing pliers. There were two whips on the seat beside him and he snatched them up and was out of the vehicle before it had even stopped moving completely. He was half conscious that another vehicle had pulled up behind them. Just then, Anne gasped as she saw what had attracted her son’s attention. Her breath caught in her throat.
Hanging from the branch of a tree by a l
ength of fencing wire was a thin black and tan kelpie. A noose of wire was around the dog’s neck and it was slowly choking to death. The dog’s tongue was abnormally swollen and it was making terrible gasping sounds as it fought for breath. As if this was not enough for the dog to endure, one of the three men near the plant was belting it with a piece of stick. Anne felt physically sick.
David shouldered the dog’s tormentor to one side and, holding the dog up with one arm, he cut the wire just above its head. It was a good kelpie head, despite its fearfully distorted eyes.
‘Hey, you, what the hell do ya think ya doin’ with that dog?’ the drover yelled at him. The man advanced towards David with his stick. The next moment he stopped dead in his tracks as his right ear exploded in white-hot agony. David recoiled the right-hand whip and looked across at the three men. One was a boy, perhaps his own age but nowhere near his size. David didn’t reckon he would interfere. The head drover, the one who had yelled at David, was of medium height and thick build and had a very red face. He had been wearing an old wide-brimmed hat which now lay on the ground while he nursed his ear. The man was very bowed in the legs and looked as if he had never done anything but ride horses. The third man was younger, probably in his mid-thirties. His skin was very brown and he looked capable enough, although not formidable.
David glanced down at the choking dog at his feet and then across to the other dogs lying nearby. They were all pathetically thin, with hipbones jutting out sharply from their skinny frames. Their coats were turned up and they looked as if they had never had a decent feed in their lives. Cold anger ran right through David. He had never felt such fury in his life.