by Tony Parsons
‘So you see, Catriona, our families trace back together a very long way. There are ties that bind us together over many generations, and I dare say these bonds will only be strengthened in the future,’ Anne said with a glimmer in her eye.
Later in the evening, when David saw Catriona to her car, she took his arm and held him close to her. ‘I will wait for you, David,’ she said. ‘You are the only man in the world for me. You win that National Trial and I’ll prove it.’
‘Time will tell, Cat,’ he said. He didn’t want her to leave, yet he couldn’t ask her to stay. There was a price to pay for everything. His father had almost paid the supreme price. Winning the National for his father might mean losing Catriona, but he had to take that risk. Time was running out for his father. He had to put everything he could into winning. No matter what, David wanted to be able to hand the big cup and sash over to his father, acknowledging Andy’s outstanding expertise in kelpie breeding, for all the world to see.
Catriona kissed David on the cheek and gently touched the scar above his right eye.
‘Get going, Cat. Get going to your old uni,’ he said gruffly. It was all he could manage to say.
Chapter Twenty-two
While Catriona was away at university, David and High Peaks saw about as much of her as they had when she had been away at boarding school. Not that they had much time to lament her absence. There was always so much to do.
It was fortunate that after some years of low prices the wool market had risen considerably and cattle prices had also strengthened, allowing David to go out shearing and crutching a little less. And at this time the MacLeods were able, at last, to pay off the remaining money owing on Poitrel.
But what was most important in David’s mind was the pending return of his splendid dog Nap. During the three years that Nap had been away begetting many fine pups, David had had to take a rather low-key role with his dogs. He had attended the local trial each year, enjoying great success every time. He had bred and kept a few young dogs from his father’s old bitches, the best of which would have suited many people. Yet none of them had been exactly what David was looking for. They had not possessed the almost magical qualities that he knew should be present in a truly outstanding dog.
Bruce McClymont kept his word and David received a phone call to say that he would return Nap three years to the day from when he had left High Peaks. Anne, who realised what a wrench it had been for her son to let Nap go, sensed how excited David was about the dog’s imminent return. She had hardly seen him so worked up as when he waited for Mr McClymont to arrive. This time it was a new green Ford utility that pulled up in the driveway, and its driver was marginally older and a little greyer than he had been three years earlier.
It was then that something quite remarkable happened, something that neither Bruce McClymont nor David would ever forget. McClymont unlocked the padlock on the dog crate and called Nap out. The big red and tan dog jumped down, sniffed the air and then raced across to where David was standing a little distance away. Nap stood before David, wagging his tail, and then turned and trotted across to his old log kennel. He jumped up on the log and then lay down with his eyes fixed on David. It was as if the intervening three years since his departure from High Peaks had never happened. For Nap, Bruce McClymont had ceased to exist.
‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ McClymont said. ‘Nap sure knows where he is. It’s as if he’s never been away.’
David walked across and patted the dog’s head before snapping the chain on his collar. Except for a slight greyness about his muzzle, it was the Nap he knew so well.
‘Did he do the job for you?’ David asked.
‘Best sire dog I ever used,’ McClymont said enthusiastically. ‘I’ve got some very good dogs by him, thank you. I took your advice and put him over his best daughter, and there’s a male that is Nap all over again for looks. Started real well, too.’
‘That’s great. I’ve got a pup for you. We mated Belle twice and this pup is from her latest litter.’
He took McClymont across to the concrete-floored shed beneath the giant pepperina tree where all the MacLeod pups were reared. There were six pups in the pen. David bent over and picked up a dark-blue and tan bitch pup and handed her to McClymont.
‘This pup is very like Belle except that she hasn’t got her short tail. If she’s as good as her mother, you won’t have any reason to complain.’
‘Terrific, David. What do I owe you?’
‘Nothing at all. You honoured our agreement and brought Nap back in good order. We should work together to keep these strains going. It’s hard for one person to do it on his own.’
‘I’m very grateful to you, David. Any time you want something from me, it’s yours.’
David nodded his acknowledgement of the offer.
‘So you’re going to mate Nap to Belle and work on those pups?’ McClymont asked.
‘Yes, I am. We’ve paid off our debt, and now I can concentrate one hundred per cent on the dogs.’
‘That’s great, David. You’ve waited a long time for this. The day you go to Canberra, I want to be there, too.’
‘I’ll be sure to let you know. I don’t expect to be working dogs there for another three years, though.’
‘I guess not,’ McClymont agreed. ‘Belle has just had this litter so it will be some time before her pups develop. Your dogs will still be young ’uns in three years’ time.’
‘But old enough if good enough,’ David said. ‘And I’m going to take Belle, too.’
‘She’s a top dog, all right. I don’t think there’s been a real top kelpie bitch working in trials since Kanimbla Betty. They tell me she was a real eye-catcher.’
‘I didn’t see her so I wouldn’t know. She was too lively early on, by all accounts, but when she won the Open at the Queensland Championships in ’54, she was the only dog in the Open final to pen her sheep. Belle has the same cover and footwork that Betty was supposed to have had.’
‘How is your father?’ McClymont asked.
‘Miles better. He has his voice back now and can even do odd jobs around the place. He’ll enjoy talking to you.’
So Andy, David and Mr McClymont spent several hours yarning about kelpies, and when McClymont left for his Riverina property, he was possessed of a great deal more knowledge than he had thought possible to acquire in one day.
Later that afternoon, once McClymont had left, David and Andy walked down to the dog yards to have a look at Nap. ‘He knew the place straight off, Dad. Just trotted away and jumped up on his old kennel.’
‘An intelligent dog like him would never forget where he came from. When you boil everything down, it’s brains that really matters most in a stock dog. You can breed plenty of dogs with eye, and with eye and cast, but you need brains and heart to make a top dog. I know you realise that, and you were very wise not sell Nap outright. I wouldn’t wait for Belle. Use Nap on the first bitch that comes on season. That way, if anything happens to Nap, you’ll have some of his progeny to go on with. You could have dogs going before Belle’s pups are old enough to assess. If you lose Nap before he has pups, then you’ve lost everything. You know what can happen to stock dogs,’ Andy said.
‘I suppose if Molly comes on, I could mate her to Nap.’
‘That’s the stuff. The sooner you get that trial out of your system, the sooner you can settle down.’
‘You’re as bad as Mum.’
‘Life’s short, Davie. That Catriona is a bonzer girl. Don’t lose her for anything.’
‘You’ve sure changed your tune. I still reckon Angus wouldn’t want me for his son-in-law.’
‘Times are changing, mate. I reckon Catriona will do whatever she wants to do. Sure, Angus is a hard, shrewd bloke. He’ll play the game right to the final bell; but if Catriona puts her foot down, he won’t risk losing her. You see if I’m not right.’
Catriona hadn’t changed her feelings in the slightest. During her breaks from university she worked Ki
ng intensively, and the year after she went away she won her first Champion Hack award with him. And in every holiday break she came to High Peaks and rode the hills with David. It seemed to Anne and Kate to be a strange sort of relationship, more like that of a brother and sister working together than a passionate love affair. David appeared to have no romantic interest in Catriona, but the girl still had stars in her eyes when she looked at him. The two women wondered how long Catriona would be prepared to play the waiting game. They were aware that she had several other suitors, and that Angus favoured at least two of them.
‘If David loses her, it will be his own fault,’ Anne complained to her sister one day.
‘Damned right,’ Kate agreed. ‘If Catriona puts up with this state of affairs, she’s a girl in a million.’
Even the matter of Susan Cartwright’s wedding did not provide sufficient impetus to spur David into action. Susan had finally given up on David and had become engaged to a young grazier from Coolah by the name of Michael Hunter.
Catriona was a bridesmaid at the wedding, and even the MacLeods were invited. This could have been because of Catriona’s friendship with David, but was more likely due to what David had done the night Roger and Catriona were assaulted. David had little time for weddings but finally agreed to attend at Catriona’s behest.
David was the biggest and best-looking young man there, and Anne took great pleasure in observing the attention he received. David thought it was a boring and wasteful afternoon. Most of the young men were only interested in getting plastered. He put up a cheerful front, though, and even danced with the bride.
‘You look lovely,’ he said as he danced Susan across the floor.
‘Thank you,’ she replied.
‘I hope everything works out well for you,’ he said.
‘Thank you, David. So do I,’ Susan said.
He was pleased when their dance came to an end because he could see Catriona watching them. She looked absolutely stunning. She always did.
‘Poor Susan,’ Catriona said when they were finally dancing together.
‘Why do you say that?’ he asked.
‘You know she really wanted you,’ Catriona said.
‘Well, I never wanted her. Susan must love Michael enough to marry him,’ David said.
‘There’s a lot more to it than that. Not everybody gets exactly what they want.’
‘You’re doing exactly what you want,’ David said.
‘No I’m not. I’m waiting for you to get this dog business out of your system.’
David didn’t know what to say in reply to that, and was thankful when the music came to an end.
The next morning he was up in the hills very early. He was riding a young horse called Gilt, which he had bred from one of Wilf White’s old brood mares. He had ridden better horses, but they weren’t all crackerjacks. It was exhilarating to ride across the top of the range country and feel the early morning breeze on his face. He sat with his leg thrown across the pommel of the saddle and drank in the vista that was spread out before him. Nap sat beside the horse and seemed to be enjoying the view just as much as David. There might be grander and more picturesque mountains in the south, but this range was David’s country. One day he would be buried on the hill above High Peaks homestead. His grandparents were buried there and his parents would be buried there, too. He did not think very often of the afterlife. He was more attracted to his father’s practical philosophy of being honest and keeping your word. His mother had tried to teach him Christian values, and he understood that Christians believed the soul lived on forever, but he did not give the matter a great deal of his attention, although he did like to think that the souls of his parents would remain forever in those ancient hills.
When he returned from his ride, he found his father waiting for him by the horse yard.
‘Tim Sparkes has sent us a message, David,’ he said without preamble. ‘Seems he is real crook in Rockhampton Hospital. He had a bad fall and he wants to see us both. He told us to bring a horse float.’
‘Hell, that’s terrible, Dad. I didn’t think there was a horse that could throw Tim.’
‘There’s always a horse that can throw you, David.’
‘Why the float?’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a horse for you. Trust Tim to think of horses even while he’s on his back.’
‘Dad, can you manage it? It’s a long way.’
‘I have to go, Davie. Can’t let my old mate down. He wouldn’t ask us up there without a good reason.’
‘Okay, but take it easy. Let me do the driving. Can Mum handle things here?’
‘Kate’s going to take a few days off and stay with her. Jean’ll stay on at Poitrel. The sheep are crutched so they should be right, and Lucky is a good watchdog.’
They left at five a.m. the next morning and made it to Toowoomba that night. David insisted that they stay at a motel, as his mother had laid down the law about not getting Andy over-tired. The next night they got as far as Biloela after crossing the palm-lined Dawson River. It was only a short run into Rockhampton next morning, and they were at the hospital by nine o’clock. When they asked for Mr Sparkes they were introduced to one of the hospital’s resident doctors, who took them into his office and asked them to sit down.
‘I understand that you are very close friends of Mr Sparkes and have come up from New South Wales to see him. I should warn you that you’re in for a shock. He was very badly hurt when the horse threw him. He has severe spinal injuries and will never walk again. And that is not his only injury. He is lucky to be alive. You will find him completely immobilised. Try not to look too surprised when you see him. He has great spirit and has been looking forward to your visit. Ready to see him now?’
They followed the doctor to the intensive care unit, which brought back unpleasant memories of Andy’s stroke.
The unit Tim was in was larger than the one at their own hospital. A nurse was sitting beside a bed in which a man lay with a collar of some kind about his neck and a number of tubes attached to his body. They never would have recognised that man as Tim Sparkes. But then he spoke and there was no doubt. Although huskier, the voice was unmistakable.
‘Hi ya, Andy, Davie. How’s my old mates? Gee, it’s good to see ya. When did ya leave?’
‘The morning after we got your message,’ Andrew answered.
‘I just knew you’d drop everything to get here. Some blokes you can put your wallet on and some you can’t. I was talking to Anne some weeks ago and she said you’d made a terrific recovery, Andy. Hell, who’d have believed it, eh, mate? Jeez, look at the size of young Davie. You’re a bloody giant. And I hear you’ve been handing out hidings.’
‘Nah. Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ David said.
‘Don’t try and bullshit me. Anne sent me up the bloody paper!’
David hadn’t been aware that Tim and his mother had been swapping news regularly. Tim was no letter writer, but he had rung every few months to find out how things were going, even more frequently following Andrew’s stroke.
‘Should you be talking so much?’ David asked and glanced at the nurse.
‘You can have ten minutes with him now and another ten minutes this afternoon,’ she said. ‘I will be just outside the door.’
‘Stuff ten minutes,’ Tim said. ‘These are my mates and they’ve come twelve hundred miles to see me. You come back when I ring for you.’
The nurse threw up her hands and left.
‘Bloody Hitlers, these nurses. It’s bad enough having them hold a man’s dick in a bottle without them tellin’ ya how long ya can talk to your mates. Listen. I’m real glad you could get up here. I want to lay something on the line now you’re here. I’m done for. My spine is buggered and I’ll never walk again, let alone ride a horse. I’ve got the station and plenty of money in the bank, so I can afford the medical expenses … full-time nurse and all that crap. I asked you to bring a horse float because I want you fellas to ha
ve the stallion. He’s the best stock-horse sire in Queensland and I know that you both want to breed. Take him, and a good mare with him.’
‘Tim, that’s very generous, but won’t you need the stallion? You sell young horses,’ Andy said.
‘I’ve got several good colts by him, Andy. I don’t need him any more. There’s still plenty of years and foals in him. Look, there’s a map in the drawer there. That’s how you get to the station from here. My overseer knows all about it. Grab those horses and some feed and head off for the high country. It will be a big relief to know the horse is with you fellas. Say, how is that mother of yours, Davie? And Kate?’
Tim was more keen to hear what had happened at High Peaks since his last visit than to discuss the business of his stallion any further – and it took a lot longer than ten minutes to tell him! The nurse fluttered in and out, but she did not have the heart or the courage to ask Andy and David to leave. It was obvious how much her patient was enjoying the visit.
‘Look, Tim, we mustn’t stay too long. We’ll have some lunch and come back later, eh?’
‘Great, but don’t hang about on my account. You grab those horses and clear out.’
‘We aren’t going to do that,’ Andy said. ‘There’s a lot to talk about. We don’t have to bolt back.’
Andrew and David stayed in Rockhampton for two days before going out to Tim’s station. It was about a hundred miles north of Rockhampton, and not difficult to locate using Tim’s map.