The Call of the High Country

by Tony Parsons

‘She looks a beauty,’ McClymont agreed. ‘As good as Nap.’

  ‘Better, in some ways, although she doesn’t have his strength and push. She is all class and would be a great bitch on fast-breaking western Queensland-type sheep.’

  ‘Would you sell her to me?’ McClymont asked.

  David shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, no. Not to you nor to anyone else. Belle is not for sale.’

  ‘Put a price on her.’

  ‘No, Mr McClymont, I won’t. When you bring Nap back to me I’m going to mate him to Belle and breed a kelpie to win the National.’

  McClymont looked at MacLeod in amazement. Was this young fellow for real? Certainly MacLeod had shown him the two best kelpies he had seen in a long while, but surely he was having himself on now.

  ‘No kelpie has won the National since Johnny’s last win in 1952,’ McClymont pointed out.

  ‘I’m aware of that,’ David said. ‘However, we have the dogs here that can do it. You’ve seen two of them. Have you ever seen any border collies any better than Nap and Belle?’

  ‘Now you put it that way, I haven’t. The problem is that kelpies don’t seem to perform as well at trials as they do at home. They get too stirry.’

  ‘Mine won’t,’ David said calmly.

  ‘One thing I can promise you – if you ever win the National, I’ll be there to see it. And I’ll be offering you more money for your winning dog than any kelpie has ever been sold for and then some. Can I order a pup from Belle?’ he asked.

  ‘You might have to wait a while. We may not breed from her without Nap here, and I’d like to run her at our local trial.’

  McClymont had a sudden thought. ‘Tell me, why do you think you can breed your National winner from Belle by Nap?’

  David smiled enigmatically. ‘Practical reasons, to begin with, and my own intuition. Now, you’ll have lunch with us, won’t you?’

  ‘If it’s no trouble,’ McClymont replied.

  ‘It’s no trouble. My aunt Kate is with Mum today. She’s a director of the partnership and she’s also a nursing sister. She’s been a big help with Dad.’

  McClymont nodded in sympathy. ‘It was tough him getting hit like that. I was looking forward to talking to your dad. I’ve heard the MacLeod name mentioned ever since I started in this business. You must have learnt a lot from him.’

  ‘Everything I know,’ David said. ‘Dad is the best dog and horse man in the district, and a fair way beyond that, but I doubt he’ll ever work a dog again. Come on, let’s go down to the house.’

  When they had finished lunch, McClymont took out his cheque book and wrote out a cheque for $3000. David looked at it and then handed it straight to his mother. Andy was sitting nearby, propped up in a big lounge chair.

  ‘This is the cheque for Nap, Andy,’ she said.

  Andrew looked at the cheque and his eyes widened. He made a valiant effort to speak and, after several unsuccessful croaks, they all heard him speak the words, ‘Good dog, Nap.’ They were the first decipherable words he had spoken since his stroke.

  ‘Andy!’ Anne said with a lovely smile. David had not seen her smile much at all these past few months.

  ‘Look here, David, I won’t hold you up any longer,’ McClymont said. ‘I want to be home in the morning. We’ve got crutching coming up and there’s a South Australian chap coming to look at a dog.’

  David and Mr McClymont walked back to the kennels and David unhooked Nap to let him have a quick run around before jumping him up into the utility. He patted him on the head and then stood back while McClymont closed and locked the door of the crate.

  ‘I’ll look after him, David. When I bring him back here he’ll look just as he does now, barring accidents, of course. You can never tell what will go wrong but I’ll sure do my best by him and watch him closely. I’ve got plenty of dogs, as you know, so I won’t work the tripe out of him. I want Nap for a sire and to show off to my clients. Have you any special advice?’

  ‘Show him off in the open on a few wild sheep. Nap should cast out of sight in your country,’ David said.

  ‘Any hints on the breeding side?’ McClymont knew that for all his money and the name he had built up for himself, what he lacked was MacLeod’s innate ability.

  ‘It would be worth putting Nap back over his best daughter before you bring him back. You could put a son of that mating with a bitch from Belle and that should give you a top breeding family. But don’t sell the inbred pups to anyone else. If the mating works, you could get anything. You should keep them and use them to stay on top.’

  ‘I might try it. Never done a close mating like that before. Never had a dog as good as Nap before.’

  David handed him an envelope. ‘This is Nap’s pedigree.’

  ‘Thanks, David, I’ll have him back here three years to the day.’

  ‘I’ll expect you to. If you have any trouble with him, give us a ring. Have a safe trip and good luck with him. You might let me know how you get on with him and how his pups are shaping.’

  ‘I’ll do that. It’s been a real pleasure meeting you.’ He waved to Anne and Kate, who were standing beside Andrew’s chair on the front verandah.

  ‘I sure hope your father improves. I would like to have a yarn to him one day,’ McClymont said as he got into his car.

  David watched him pull away. Nap was standing at the back of the crate with his nose pressed through the wire. He watched the dog until he could no longer see him, a deep ache burning inside his chest. He felt terrible about letting the dog go. Nap wouldn’t understand why he’d been sent away. And what David feared most was that Nap would never return. Snakes were deadly on dogs. Yet when he thought again of how his father had sacrificed himself so that the MacLeod family could have a more secure future, it was small of him to feel guilty about Nap. A bloke had to be a man about these things. His decision had been made, and that was that. At least McClymont would promote the hell out of Nap, and his owner.

  ‘He was a nice man, David,’ Anne said as he walked back up the steps to the house.

  ‘Yeah, he seemed all right. Dad say anything more?’ he asked.

  ‘Just a word or two,’ Anne said. ‘It’s a start.’

  David sat on a chair beside his father and told him what he had done and where Nap was headed. When he had finished, David distinctly heard his father say, ‘Good boy.’

  Those words cheered him up a little. Andrew had never been known to hand out praise lightly. Although people always said that his father was a hard man, they also said he was a fair one. David did not want to be known as a hard man. A fair man and an honest man, yes. But sometimes you had to be hard to survive. He knew he had not done the right thing by Nap. The dog loved him and he had sent him away. Animals often suffered for humans; they were regarded as expendable. Nap had trusted him and he had let him down. It was as simple as that.

  His father had once told him that he should never lose his heart to a dog, but the problem was that Nap was alive, and tonight – and every other night – that good, brainy dog would be wondering why he wasn’t back at his log kennel. Life was damned hard.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Life at High Peaks and Poitrel went on in much the same way as it had always done. There were good seasons, fair seasons and poor seasons, and High Peaks Pastoral Company weathered the troughs and moved closer to financial independence. The wool market climbed out of its lethargy, the cattle market picked up, and the governor-general kicked out Gough Whitlam in favour of Victorian grazier–politician Malcolm Fraser. For people on the land, it was a time of rejoicing.

  David had sowed fifty additional acres of lucerne and was now able to make hay on both High Peaks and Poitrel. Angus Campbell had the equipment for haymaking, and his men cut and baled David’s lucerne. In return, David had taken the place of his father in breaking-in the Campbell horses. Having a shedful of good hay had been a real bonus: there were always horses in feed, and in the poor seasons they were able to utilise some of the hay to feed their
cows.

  Andrew had made a remarkable, although partial, recovery. His speech had developed so that he could speak in halting sentences, which often took some understanding. He had also gained some mobility and could even do odd light jobs, like feeding the fowls and the dogs, but he did tire easily and he could not use his right arm well. Still, as Anne said, he was improving.

  David seemed to take everything in his stride. Andy’s stroke put the kybosh on David staying at school. He left at the end of Year 11. He never wanted to leave the two properties, and except for local shearing and crutching jobs – and the local show and sheepdog trials – he almost never did. He had worked Belle at the local trial and had won both the Maiden and the Open Trials with her at her first outing. His father had performed this feat three times and David was the first person since his father to take out the double.

  The following year, David again won the Open with Belle and scored 99 with her in the final – the highest score anyone could remember being awarded at that venue. When he came off the ground, his father, who had been watching quietly from the sidelines, clapped him on the back with his good left hand. This was the first gesture of its kind from Andy, and David felt that he was beginning to get somewhere.

  Bruce McClymont had written to David and informed him that Nap had settled down quite well and was receiving positive comment from anyone who saw him work. One of Nap’s sons had won a trial at Narrandera, and several other of his pups had been exported. Needless to say, Bruce McClymont was over the moon when David told him how Belle had done in the local trial.

  Catriona Campbell had finally come home from boarding school. She was now eighteen and an extremely beautiful young woman.

  One day not long after she had arrived back at Inverlochy, she took a drive to High Peaks in the new car her father had promised her. It was a yellow Holden and she was very proud of it.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Mac, Mr Mac,’ she said as she pulled up in the driveway. She greeted them warmly and then kissed them both.

  ‘Catriona, it’s lovely to see you,’ Anne replied. ‘I heard that you were home. Finished with boarding school at long last?’

  ‘At long last. It seemed to go on forever,’ Catriona said.

  ‘What are you going to do with yourself now?’ Anne asked as she scrutinised the girl. Catriona now spoke, walked and behaved quite beautifully.

  ‘I’m not sure. Daddy is keen for me to go to university, but I don’t fancy going just for the sake of it. I should go because I really want to. I once thought about doing vet science but my marks weren’t high enough. I may take a trip overseas and see how I feel when I get back. Daddy suggested that as an option, and I think it’s a good idea to go before I have too many other commitments.’

  ‘I see. Where would you go?’

  ‘Oh, Britain and Europe, I think. Daddy has relatives in Scotland and I could stay with them for a while. I’d like to have a look at the Western Isles and the Scottish Highlands. Daddy said that he and Mummy might come over and join me for a little while. I believe Daddy is thinking of importing another border collie and he wants to see a trial or two. By the way, where is David?’

  ‘Out looking at sheep. He’ll be here for lunch, though. Can you stay? Would you like to come inside?’

  ‘I told Mummy I might. I thought David might show me the black horse. I understand he’s been gelded. If I like him, Daddy will buy him for me for a show horse,’ Catriona said, looking out towards the horse yard. ‘Does he still think the black will make a show horse?’

  ‘You’ll have to talk to David about his plans for the horse. I don’t interfere at all with that side of things. David is more than capable. He hasn’t put a foot wrong since his father’s been laid low.’

  ‘Mrs Mac, I think Mr Mac is trying to say something,’ Catriona said.

  Anne saw her husband signalling to her from his big leather chair which had been placed on the front verandah with a perfect view over High Peaks.

  ‘What is it, Andy?’ she asked.

  ‘David … black horse … bottom paddock,’ he croaked.

  ‘David has taken the black gelding down to the bottom paddock where the breeding ewes are,’ Anne translated. ‘What do you say we take a little walk and see if we can catch him coming up the slope? Andy, will you be all right here?’

  Andrew gave a slow nod and a wise little smile.

  ‘Okay, I’ll go and get my hat,’ Anne said.

  Together Anne and Catriona walked out past the horse yard and down the track that led to the front gate. The track forked there and the left path led down past the foal paddock to the bottom country. It was a downhill slope all the way to the Inverlochy–Poitrel road. Once past the foal paddock there was an uninterrupted view where a rider could be seen for well over a mile.

  ‘David shouldn’t be long,’ Anne said. ‘He told me he would be back for early lunch.’

  ‘It’s all right, Mrs Mac. I don’t mind waiting.’ Catriona would have waited forever if she had thought he was interested in her. What made it worse was that somewhere, deep down, she felt that David did like her – if only he would let on to her. There had to be some reason for David’s indifference and she meant to find out what it was.

  Anne took Catriona’s arm and pointed down the slope. She could just pick out a small black speck that grew marginally larger as she watched.

  ‘David’s on his way. You’ll see a great sight very shortly. That black horse is really an eye-catcher.’

  Catriona watched horse and rider as they came up the slope.

  ‘Did you ever see anything like the canter on that?’ Anne asked. The black horse was on a fairly loose rein but moving with a slow, rocking canter just as if he were parading for a judge in the show ring. He had grown a lot since Catriona had seen him last, and now looked magnificent. By the way the horse was moving, David must have put in a lot of work on him. She had never seen a finer combination.

  ‘Isn’t he splendid?’ Catriona said with her eyes aglow.

  ‘Splendid,’ Anne agreed, but it seemed to her that Catriona’s eyes were focused more on David than the black gelding. And then in one easy movement David was on the ground and standing beside them. Catriona hardly recognised him.

  ‘Hello, Cat,’ he said casually.

  ‘Hello yourself,’ she replied. ‘Do you know you are still the only person who calls me Cat, mountain man?’

  ‘You will always be Cat to me,’ he said. ‘Why aren’t you in riding clobber?’

  ‘What, you want to go riding? I thought you were far too busy to devote any time to me,’ she said and nudged Anne.

  ‘Do they teach sarcasm at boarding school along with a swanky voice?’

  ‘Sorry, David, but you never once asked me to go riding with you.’

  ‘Since when have I had to?’

  ‘I don’t go anywhere unless I am asked,’ Catriona said very firmly. ‘Besides, as you may have noticed, I am not a little girl any more.’

  ‘I’m not blind, and I’m not asking you to go riding with me. I asked why you weren’t dressed to go riding. I thought you wanted to try the black horse. Your father has pestered the daylight out of me about him. Anyway, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?’

  ‘Who is being sarcastic now? And condescending?’

  ‘Hey, you two,’ Anne cut in sharply. ‘You haven’t seen each other for months and you’re sparring like Kilkenny cats. David, when you’ve finished with your horse, would you come up to the house? Catriona is staying for lunch. Please don’t be long.’

  ‘Righto.’ David walked off leading the black horse, and the two women watched him all the way to the horse yard.

  ‘My goodness, David has grown since I saw him last, and he certainly has his wits about him,’ Catriona said.

  ‘Never underestimate him, Catriona. He is very much his own man. He’s had to be. Come on, let’s go eat.’

  After lunch – during which David had shown more interest in what was on his plate than on who
was sitting beside him – Catriona asked if she could have another look at the horse.

  ‘Having second thoughts, Cat?’ David asked. ‘Something about him you don’t like?’

  ‘Not at all. I’d just like to see him unsaddled,’ Catriona said.

  Anne looked at her from across the table and then at her son. She was sure Catriona didn’t want to look at the horse – she wanted to get David on his own.

  As they walked down to the horse yard, Catriona turned and walked past the stables and on to the wool shed.

  ‘You won’t find the black horse there, Cat,’ David said.

  ‘I don’t want to see the horse, David. I don’t have to. He’s magnificent. I want to ask you something else. It’s a favour.’

  ‘All this doubletalk to ask me a favour. What is it?’ he asked bluntly.

  ‘David, would you escort me to the Debutantes’ Ball?’

  David looked at her as if she had asked him to destroy one of his dogs. ‘Why ever would you ask me to escort you to that kind of function?’

  ‘Because I have known you longer than almost any other boy. And, besides, I thought you might like to.’

  ‘Is there something particularly important about this ball? I mean, other than the fact that you and some other girls will be coming out, or whatever the term is?’

  ‘It’s a very big occasion for a girl. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Susan Cartwright has also asked me,’ he said.

  ‘You’re escorting Susan?’ Catriona asked. She couldn’t believe it.

  ‘No, I’m not. And I won’t escort you either.’

  ‘Why not? I don’t have two heads, do I?’

  ‘Don’t fish for compliments, Cat. Your appearance has nothing to do with it. I’ve no doubt you’ll be the best-looking girl on show. Susan won’t be far behind.’

  ‘Then why won’t you escort me?’

  ‘Have you discussed this with your family?’ David asked.

  ‘No, not yet.’

  ‘I thought not. Beats me what you learned at that fancy boarding school. Let’s get a few things straight. You people – and that includes the Cartwrights – move in a different social circle to us. That doesn’t mean I think we’re inferior. The thing is, your parents didn’t send you away to boarding school for years so that you would come home and ask David MacLeod to escort you to the Debs’ Ball. They would hit the roof. Now, I understand that making your debut is important for you, and it should be a very happy occasion, but it wouldn’t be if I was insensitive enough to say yes to your invitation. So I am sorry, Cat, but I must decline.’