by Tony Parsons
‘I reckon we should try and get some sleep,’ Andrew said when the conversation began to wane. ‘We’ll need to be up and about fairly early.’
David replenished the fires and lay down a few feet from Catriona. He stretched out an arm and touched her reaching fingers. When he felt her hands relax he tucked her arm back under the warmth of her blanket. Kate’s eyes were still open and David bent down and kissed her. ‘Sleep well, Kate,’ he said.
‘God love you, David,’ she replied softly.
Despite Kate’s predicament and the rough nature of their camp, they had all experienced a magical night on Wallaby Rocks.
Soon the whole camp was asleep. The fires gradually burned down until David, waking at around four a.m., threw more logs on each heap. He went back to his blanket but did not sleep again and was up and about before daylight. He had the billy boiling when his father got up. It was very chilly and they stood and warmed their backsides until David said he would go and water the horses.
They took a couple of horses each and David led the way to the spring beside the cave. The water bubbled into a small trough of sand and rock.
‘I didn’t know about this,’ Andrew said as he looked into the mouth of the big cave.
‘Beauty, isn’t it? Cat and I sheltered in there – and the horses, too – all through the storm.’
When the others got up they had to go and inspect the cave as well. ‘It’s almost worth the effort to get here just for the view and that cave,’ Eric said. He was stiff in every joint and hoping like hell that he wouldn’t have to ride again. With a bit of luck there would be a chopper and he could go back with Sister Gilmour.
Tom gave Kate another injection and while the horses were being saddled Catriona shared out the remaining food.
Shortly after, Andrew’s keen ears picked up the characteristic beat of a helicopter’s engine. ‘Quick, throw some more green branches on the fire. I can hear the chopper,’ he said urgently.
There was a furious burst of activity as his instructions were carried out. There was no wind at all and the smoke spiralled clear above the crest. The pilot couldn’t miss it. The chopper was a mile or two south of them when it crossed the range and it soon veered around in a wide arc.
‘Where will it be able to land?’ Eric asked. ‘Will we have to carry her a bit?’
‘Over here,’ David said, cantering off on his horse back along the ridge to the one spot that was clear of timber and rocks. The pilot knew where he had to land. David went back to the others, who were all standing with their faces upturned as they watched the chopper lose height right above them. It came down very slowly and seemed to almost kiss the ground it landed so gently.
The pilot was a lean, long-jawed young man wearing a red and yellow peaked cap, blue jeans and a cowboy shirt.
‘Wes Moran,’ he said, waving to the group. ‘Sorry I couldn’t be here last night.’
‘G’day, Wes. I’m Sergeant Hooper from Merriwa. Where did you come from this morning?’
‘Tamworth, Sarge. I didn’t hear about this until after ten last night and it was too risky trying anything in the dark.’
‘Would you like some tea, Wes?’ Andrew asked.
‘I’d love some. I had a dingo’s breakfast this morning. But I’d better not, best press on. I reckon this lady here has been waiting long enough. You ready to go? I can take someone else along with us if you like.’
‘Better take Eric,’ Andrew suggested. ‘He’s sworn off horses for life.’
‘Okay. If we put a blanket under the patient, we can carry her up to the chopper. Bring the pillow and some more blankets and we’ll make her nice and snug. You want me to take her to Merriwa or Tamworth?’ Moran asked.
‘Merriwa,’ Kate said sleepily. ‘Merriwa, please.’
They placed the blanket under Kate and four men took a corner each, stretching it tight. Kate was carried up to the helicopter and positioned on the machine’s floor. A pillow was put under her leg and a blanket was folded up under her head.
‘Thanks for everything, David,’ Kate whispered in his ear. ‘Look after Chief, won’t you?’ were the last words David heard as the door of the chopper was slammed shut.
‘I’ll see that he never shies again,’ he growled.
They watched as the chopper rose into the sky above them. It circled them once and then surged away towards Merriwa.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The party’s descent to Poitrel was accomplished in little over an hour. When they rode into the house paddock they were surprised to see several four-wheel drive vehicles parked about the homestead. There were people everywhere: some in their vehicles and others with Jean on the verandah. There were cameras set up on tripods and they flashed wildly as the party neared the house.
‘The newshounds are here,’ Hooper growled.
Jean had heard the helicopter as it passed overhead towards Merriwa and she had a big breakfast waiting for the rescue party. There were sausages galore, eggs, tomatoes and plenty of tea and toast. They had never had a breakfast that tasted so good.
The reporters all wanted to see Nap and photograph him with his owner. They wanted to take David over to High Peaks for this purpose. He had been looking forward to a quiet ride home with Catriona, but he knew they would find no peace until the reporters got what they wanted so he shrugged his shoulders and agreed.
Before heading off to High Peaks, Sergeant Hooper called David aside and said, ‘Next time you’re in town, come and see me.’
‘I don’t get to town often, Sergeant, but I reckon I’ll be visiting Kate in the next couple of days.’
‘Make sure you do, or I’ll come back and see you. There’s something you should know about. It would be a good excuse to have a look at that stallion of yours.’
David looked curiously at Sergeant Hooper, his eyes asking for more information.
‘I don’t want to say anything in front of Miss Campbell,’ Hooper whispered.
‘Okay. If I come in, I’ll look you up. Thanks again for all your help.’
As soon as the procession of vehicles had left Poitrel, Jean rang Anne to advise her that Kate had been safely lifted off Wallaby Rocks and that the news crews were now headed for High Peaks.
Anne walked out on to the front verandah and soon enough a stream of cars came through their front entrance. She saw David get out of one vehicle and walk down to the dog yard. He was trailed by a score of men and women, half of whom were carrying cameras of some description.
Nap was found lying on his log kennel enjoying the morning sunshine. David had to demonstrate how he had attached the handkerchief to Nap’s collar. Nap was photographed from every angle, with and without David, and then all attention was turned to Yellow Rock and the homestead. David had to retrieve the message he had written and this, too, was photographed. Anne was also photographed with David, and then at last the media representatives roared back to Poitrel, taking David with them at his request.
When he got back there David put Chief in his horse trailer and took Catriona and King back to Inverlochy. He didn’t stay long, and drove straight on to High Peaks. He rightly judged that his mother would be anxious to leave for town to see Kate.
Anne had already rung the hospital and learned that Kate was in good shape.
‘So that’s that,’ David said. ‘It could have been a whole lot worse for Kate … and getting her back. Kate was wonderful through it all.’
‘Getting Nap to bring your message back was incredible.’
‘I didn’t fancy leaving Kate. Will you go in and visit her later?’
‘I certainly will. If Andy’s back in time, he might come with me. Though on second thoughts it might be too much for him. He’s had a big couple of days. Would you like to ask Catriona up for dinner? There might be something about you on the telly.’
David spent the afternoon handling a horse and pressing a bale of crutchings. He then gave the dogs a run before feeding them. When he had finished he stood fo
r a few minutes with Nap. ‘You’re a brainy fella, aren’t you?’
Nap looked up at him and wagged his tail.
‘I should never have let you leave here. Sorry about that, old dog, but we needed the money real bad at the time. I cheated on you and I still feel bad about it. Kate will probably spoil you rotten when she gets out of hospital. There’ll be cooked lamb’s fry and steak galore, if I know her. You did a great job, and tonight I reckon you’re going to be famous.’ He patted Nap on the head and went back inside.
That night he and Catriona saw themselves on television for the first time. Most of the footage centred around Nap and what he had done. They had expected to have a quiet night to themselves, but were quickly disillusioned because the news story generated one phone call after the other. The first caller was Bruce McClymont, who was overjoyed to see ‘his’ Nap in the news. Then came calls from David’s grandparents in Sydney and Shaun Covers – and then there were the neighbours. After the fifth call David said he would take the phone off the hook.
‘You can’t do that,’ Catriona protested. ‘There might be an important call.’
‘I’m sick of talking to people,’ he growled. ‘Why can’t I just have a quiet night? I’ve been up since dawn.’
‘Because you’re in the news, darling. It will all be over tomorrow.’
Catriona was wrong. The next day there were more callers and special-feature writers wanting to do stories on the MacLeods and their dogs. The last call came from two representatives of a film company who wanted to sound David out about making a film. They were so serious about the idea that they even paid a visit to High Peaks a few days later, returning to Sydney with an enthusiastic recommendation. A research assistant and producer were then sent to make a more detailed assessment of the situation. The producer, like his earlier colleagues, became very excited once he had seen the spectacular scenery and the amazing feats of the dogs in action. The animals, especially the dogs, were simply magnificent.
But the producer, Laurence Singer, knew he needed more than just great dogs and horses to make a memorable film, so the research assistant, Helen Gray, set about digging out every bit of available information on the MacLeod family. She discovered how David had had to send Nap away for three years to help the family pay off its debt, and she even found out about his run-ins with Stanley Masters and the Missen brothers. The fact that David was a wizard with a stockwhip also added to his appeal.
A few weeks after their first visit, the film company began to make more ambitious plans. They formulated a rough script, which was posted up to David for approval. His initial reaction was not enthusiastic. He envisaged a lot of problems, mainly concerning how much time he and Catriona would be required to devote to the project, him coaching the actors and Catriona doing some of the more high-risk horse work, like up Yellow Rock. There had been a television commercial for drenching filmed on Inverlochy and the cameramen had insisted on about twenty takes before they were satisfied. This might have made for good TV but it exhausted people and dogs. David was adamant that if he consented to do the film, he would not ask his dogs to repeat scenes. He doubted very much that he could spare the time to put into the film. He had three properties to oversee, plus dogs and young horses to handle. Moreover, his most important project was the next year’s National Trial.
The producer said that the company would make the family’s involvement well worth their while. He even increased his initial offer, which was a sum not to be sneezed at.
‘I don’t have time to stand on a hill and get a dog to do twenty casts,’ David said. ‘If I agree to do this film, I have to be given the right to tell you when I think a dog’s work is satisfactory. I won’t be dictated to by cameramen. These are my conditions.’
‘You must understand that cameramen are very fussy people. They have to be – they’re working with investors’ money. Not only that but their work is looked at critically throughout the world. If we think a scene isn’t good enough, it’s done again until we’re satisfied.’
‘Mr Singer, I don’t much care whether I do this film or not. If I do it, you will get authentic work that meets my standards. If you aren’t happy with that, you’ll have to forget the whole thing.’
‘You’re a hard man, Mr MacLeod,’ Singer said. ‘A lot of people would jump at the chance we’re giving you.’
‘Then you should go and talk to them. Perhaps they’re not as busy as I am. And another thing – I couldn’t do much until well into next year, and I would want you to include in your script the buildup to the National Trial.’
‘We’ll have to think about it, Mr MacLeod. We’ll get back to you.’
So that was that, and David went back to handling his dogs and young horses.
That afternoon he was in the horse yard when a police car pulled up beside him.
‘Hello, Sergeant. Did you get tired of waiting for me?’ he called as the big policeman climbed out of his Falcon. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you yet. I’ve only visited Kate at night,’ he said by way of apology.
‘I was out this way anyway so I thought it was a good chance to come and see you,’ Hooper said.
‘Got time for a drink?’
‘I don’t see why not. How’s your dad?’
‘Going well. He’s over at Poitrel right now. We’re upgrading the existing shed that Wilf let fall to pieces. Between you and me, Sergeant, we’ve also got our eyes on the place opposite. It’s nearly all good breeding country and we could breed our replacement wethers there instead of buying them.’
Anne looked up in surprise when she heard voices on the verandah.
‘Hey, Mum, we’ve got a visitor.’
‘Well, bring him in, dear,’ the imperturbable Anne said.
But Sergeant Hooper’s entry to her lounge room did induce a feeling of alarm. The arrival of a police officer seemed to signify bad news. ‘It’s not Andy?’ she asked in a strangled kind of voice.
‘Nothing like that, Mrs MacLeod. Just some news I thought you people should know about.’
‘Sit down, please,’ Anne said. ‘I’ll just go and get some afternoon smoko.’
The big man sat down and looked about the room. It was the first time he had been inside the High Peaks homestead. There were photographs of dogs and horses on the walls, and the dresser was surmounted by large silver cups.
‘I hear there’s a film company chasing you to make a picture,’ Hooper said, making conversation.
‘How did you know?’ David asked, knowing full well that you couldn’t spit in town without someone knowing about it.
Anne came back into the room and placed a tray of tea and cake on the table.
‘There was a young woman doing some research on you, David,’ Hooper said with a big grin. ‘She came to see me. Smart young woman. Really on the ball.’
‘Oh, did she? What did you tell her?’ David asked.
‘Only the truth, David.’
David groaned. ‘I wondered where they got their information.’
‘Great cake, Mrs MacLeod,’ Hooper said, taking a bite of Anne’s lemon sponge. He hadn’t tasted one like it for years.
‘You said you had something to tell us,’ David urged.
‘Yes. We heard that Roy Missen had employed a top firm of Sydney solicitors to take up the matter of his boys getting early release from prison.’ What the sergeant didn’t say was that Roy Missen had mortgaged his property to find the money for the legal expenses.
There was silence in the room while David and his mother digested this information.
‘Do you think it can be done, Sergeant?’ Anne asked.
‘I wouldn’t have thought so. If a judge sets a nonparole term, then that is the minimum period an offender is required to serve in custody unless new evidence is brought forward. And a person is not necessarily released after the judge’s stipulated period. Nothing may come of this, but there is mention of a QC being briefed so I expect that it will be taken to the highest level.’
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br /> ‘Are the Missens likely to be dangerous if they’re released?’ Anne asked.
‘I can’t answer that. But it pays to be prepared.’
‘I’m not worried for my own sake, Sergeant,’ David said, ‘but Cat gets around a lot on her own, to town and to Tamworth – even to Sydney.’
‘I don’t want to cause alarm, but she might want to be careful.’ Hooper got up and nodded to Anne. ‘Thanks for the cuppa and the bonzer cake, Mrs MacLeod.’
‘Thanks for calling, Sergeant. We appreciate it,’ she replied.
‘You reckon I could have a look at your stallion?’ Hooper asked.
‘You keen on horses?’ David asked.
‘Always have been. I was in the mounted police for a while. I’ve got a yen to buy a small place and breed a few thoroughbreds.’
‘We aren’t thoroughbred people. We took over some very good blood mares from Wilf White and we’re using the best of them to breed stock horses. That black horse Catriona got Champion Hack with a year or so ago was bred from one of Wilf’s old mares. Course, Cat did a great job with him. She’s a good show rider – been winning awards in the show ring since she was a kid.’
‘He’s a bottler, old Wilf,’ Hooper said. ‘I saw him at the show. I used to go out and talk to him when I first came here. He had a terrific memory for pedigrees and race performances.’
‘Wilf gave his mare Ajana to me as a present before we bought the place. I reckon this stallion mated with her should produce something. The stallion is just below the house. I’d be pleased to let you see him.’
They walked down the track towards the foal-rearing paddock and came to the big stallion yard they had built especially for Tim’s stallion. It was more of a small paddock than a big yard because it was large enough for the horse to run around in and it included a stable and shade trees.
David climbed through the fence and walked up to the bay horse. ‘He’s as quiet as a kitten, Sergeant, but you never know with stallions and bulls. Wait there until I catch him.’ He took a dog lead from his trouser pocket and clipped it to the stallion’s halter. The horse rubbed its head against David’s chest and David stroked its forehead in return.