‘Ross, where’s Hugh?’ Darcey leant against the wooden pillar on the veranda, framed by a spray of bougainvillea that trailed around the bannister.
He looked up from the pocketknife he was sharpening, the blade worn thin from hours of rubbing. ‘I have no idea. Now he’s got the idea into his head that he wants to fight for the Chinese, in China. Ridiculous idea. Why Maria would condone it when she spent the time I knew her trying to disassociate herself from them.’ Ross stopped talking. He did his best not to mention Maria in Darcey’s company. ‘The Empire of Japan’s invaded Nanking,’ he finished more evenly.
‘I was just reading about that in the newspaper Hugh brought with him. Do you think it will affect us?’ asked Darcey, sitting next to him on the step.
‘No. I’m more worried about Hugh and this childish scheme of his,’ answered Ross.
‘He’s only testing you, Ross.’
‘Is he? If I’d had the chance to go at his age I would have. Anyway, Hugh’s leaving tomorrow. Apparently he’s had enough of Waybell. He’s worried he’ll be stuck here for the duration of the wet season. And he hates me.’
She stroked his arm. ‘Give him time, Ross.’
‘Time? The boy’s been coming to Waybell for the last three years. I still barely know him. The moment Hugh arrives he takes off and camps out for days, and when he is here he barely talks. Today was the most conversation I’ve had with him since he arrived.’
‘I seem to recall someone else who was like that,’ said Darcey. She rested her head on his shoulder.
‘You on the other hand must have been born patient.’
‘Don’t you mean long-suffering?’ she replied.
He squeezed her leg just above the knee and she let out a small squeal of complaint accompanied by a titter of laughter.
Their delicate courtship had been a renewal of faith that stretched the better part of two years before the night came when they finally lay together. The first time, it had been a clumsy reunion. Having succeeded in claiming his wife in every way but physically, Ross feared stepping back into the world of passion. Not only because he remained unsure of his ability to do the expected but because of where love once took him to, beyond the boundaries of reason. There was no mad desire. Instead, a mutual appreciation strengthened the growing bond between them until he understood how gentle and kind love could be.
‘Truly, Ross, Hugh will come around eventually. He hasn’t had the easiest of beginnings.’ She interlaced her fingers with his.
‘I hope you’re right.’ He worried for Hugh. In putting his life down on paper and giving the document to him to read, he’d run out of conversation to share with his son. Talk was difficult at times. There weren’t any incidents from his own childhood that Ross could draw on and portion out when advice appeared to be required. At least, not the kind that showed how a boy became a man. Detailing his life, thus giving Hugh ammunition to throw back at him, now seemed a poor decision.
‘Well, with our child you’ll have more opportunity for fathering,’ said Darcey.
Ross folded the knife. ‘What?’
‘A baby, Ross. We’re going to be parents.’
Ross looked from Darcey’s face to her stomach. ‘How is that possible?’
‘Ross …’ she teased.
‘I mean. I thought –’
‘What?’ She wagged a finger at him. ‘That I’m too old? I’m not yet fifty, Ross. It’s rare but it’s not impossible.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Be pleased. I am.’
‘Of course I’m pleased. I’m overwhelmed.’ He took her in his arms and hugged her tightly and then released her carefully. ‘How do you know?’
Darcey laid a hand on her stomach. ‘There are signs, Ross. And I’ve put on weight. Didn’t you notice?’
‘It seems to me everyone swells with age.’
‘Well, this swelling comes with a child.’
‘Is it safe? I mean … why now? After everything that’s happened. After all this time?’ asked Ross.
‘I have no idea.’ She smiled.
Ross took her hand and squeezed. ‘How long?’ he asked.
‘Maybe five or six months.’
‘We should go to Darwin. It’d be better if you’re near the hospital. We can stay in your old house until the monsoon’s over.’
‘No, I don’t want to go to Darwin. I want the child to be born here at Waybell.’ She tapped his cheek. ‘I want you to carry our little one outside as soon as he’s born and show him this marvellous property. Let him breathe the air and feel the space about him.’ She lifted her face to the sky.
‘Just as well the child will be born in the dry season,’ said Ross solemnly. ‘I wouldn’t like him to spend his first few months staring out at the rain. Wait. You said “him” – a son?’
‘Yes. I just feel as if I’m carrying a boy.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Women’s intuition.’
Ross didn’t query his wife. It was far beyond his capabilities to know the workings of a woman’s mind.
‘Once Hugh hears the news you may well find him a bit more amenable, Ross. Competition can do that to a person.’
‘How’s that?’
‘Our child will be your legitimate heir, male or female.’ Darcey gave Ross a cheerful wink. ‘I’m going to tell Annie about the baby.’
Darcey touched his head on passing, an old dog keeping tight on her heels as she headed towards the camp. Ross observed the gentle sway of her movements, the mother of his unborn child. The children from the camp raced towards her, circling Darcey and running around her excitedly. Ross was grateful for her support of his relationship with Hugh, particularly as his wife had lived in Maria’s shadow for years. If he could be granted anything at that very moment, Ross hoped that, with a child of her own, Darcey would finally enjoy the complete fulfilment he so wanted for her.
He speared the pocketknife into the ground, looking towards the heavens, trying to contain his smile. ‘There you go, Father. Two heirs,’ he announced loudly. ‘Two male heirs,’ he repeated slowly, contemplating what the birth of another child meant. Hugh wouldn’t be happy about the news and Ross worried for the boy’s sake. He didn’t want his firstborn to experience any sense of inferiority, but how to ensure that would be difficult. Hugh carried an entitlement to inherit of which he was aware, however with this new child Hugh’s share would decrease substantially. There was no other way.
Chapter 61
1938
Hugh lifted the rifle and pointed the barrel at the wedge-tailed eagle gliding on the air current. A loud crack rang out. The bird hung in the sky for the slightest of seconds and began to fall. Ross closed his eyes in disbelief as the eagle plummeted to the ground, and then busied himself with remounting the old mare he’d taken to riding. They’d been out hunting for dingos and, having only shot three of the feral canines, Hugh had grown bored, resorting to shooting anything that moved. Wallabies, snakes and rats, geese and ducks all fell under his aim.
‘We don’t usually shoot the wedge-tails,’ said Ross.
‘Why not?’ replied Hugh.
‘They’re beautiful birds, don’t you think?’
‘Not really. I’ve seen them pecking the innards out of kangaroos and other dead animals,’ said Hugh. He holstered the rifle and swung up into the saddle.
‘Well, that’s how they live. It doesn’t mean they deserve to die.’ Reminding the boy that a person should only kill when necessary, and usually then only what they could eat, was futile. Hugh wasn’t worried about droughts or floods or where a next meal might come from, nor was he particularly concerned about the wildlife. ‘So how’s that horse of yours going? Mick’s been riding him while you were away,’ said Ross.
Hugh flicked the gelding’s mane. ‘You can tell. He’s too hard in the mouth. I’ve got to yank the reins to make him take any notice. I don’t think he’ll make much of a horse.’
The boy’s opinion of th
e gelding reminded Ross of another young man, nearly eighteen years ago. A brash know-all who’d doubted the ability of a piece of horse-flesh bartered for tobacco.
‘Maybe you should name him,’ suggested Ross. ‘“Horse” isn’t particularly original.’
‘It’ll do.’ Hugh ran his knuckles lightly between the horse’s ears.
‘How’s the roping coming along?’ he asked.
‘Fine,’ said Hugh.
They rode through the woodlands towards the homestead. Hugh hadn’t once mentioned Darcey since his arrival five days earlier. Having explained that his wife was in bed suffering from exhaustion, Ross waited for the right time to tell Hugh about the imminent birth of the child. He knew the news must be shared, and soon, but the occasion never seemed to arise and Ross began to grow angry at his procrastination. It was a task he dreaded. Hugh’s last visit had been fleeting and awkward, so it was with a pleased wariness that he greeted his son’s recent return.
This was Hugh’s second visit to Waybell in six months following three years of being cajoled into undertaking an annual trip south to the property. Hugh’s arrival, unrequested and unannounced, timed to coincide with the commencement of the mustering season, only served to make Ross more concerned about their relationship with the coming of another child. In the past, Ross contemplated if there was some greater power at work apportioning out difficulties that were weighed unfavourably against him. Now he was convinced of it. Hugh, having returned to help for the duration of the dry, was about to discover the existence of a soon-to-be legitimate heir.
‘I won’t be going on the muster,’ Ross told him.
‘I know. Mick said you can’t do much anymore,’ answered Hugh, supporting the rifle across his thighs.
Ross thought of the days he’d ridden across the plains. The wind glassing his eyes, foam from Nugget speckling his face. In another time he may have been offended by the comment. ‘I still do a bit. It’s my legs. I can ride for three hours or so but any more and I’m useless the next day.’
‘You really buggered yourself, didn’t you?’ said Hugh.
‘It was an accident.’
‘Except that there was drink involved.’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Ross. ‘There was a lot of that. So you decided against going to Nanking?’
‘There’ll be other wars,’ replied Hugh casually. ‘Besides, it didn’t feel right leaving my mother. She’s been abandoned too many times already.’
Ross wanted to tell Hugh that it was time to move on. That reliving the past only served to pull a man down until he was bogged in a drying waterhole like a failing beast. However he was not the one to give the boy a lecture on the subject.
The boy rammed the rifle in its holster, a stricken look on his face. ‘You don’t care, do you?’
Ross drew the mare to a halting stop. ‘I wouldn’t have made a point of making sure you knew about me if I didn’t,’ he answered carefully, at a loss as to where the outburst came from.
‘But that was before this new baby,’ countered Hugh.
Ross was furious. He vowed to have strong words with whoever had told the boy. He didn’t reply immediately. Ross was used to conversations where Hugh would complain about something and he would give an ineffectual answer, but on this occasion he doubted any response would improve things.
‘I’d intended to tell you, Hugh, but most of the time you’re either too disinterested or angry. It doesn’t make a person inclined towards conversation. Anyway, don’t worry, you won’t be cut out of my will.’ Ross set off at a quicker pace.
‘Don’t you have anything else to say?’ Hugh called out.
Ross pulled hard on the reins and rode back to face his son. ‘You’ve been here for five days and not once have you asked after Darcey. Not once. If you’d cared just a little, I would have told you immediately about the baby. That the child was not planned and that Darcey has had a hard time of it lately. Instead I waited, hoping you might show some kindness towards her. That this visit might be easier with you making the decision to come here without my asking and offering to be involved.’ Ross rode closer to Hugh. ‘You know why I didn’t say anything? Because we were getting on better and I hoped that things might be stronger between us. If not as father and son, at least as two men trying to make the best of things.’
‘You’re just making excuses,’ accused Hugh.
‘This isn’t a damned boarding house. It’s my home and my wife’s. If you can’t show respect to Darcey and the half-brother or-sister she’s about to bring into the world, then you should return to your mother!’ yelled Ross.
‘I never really wanted to come back here, anyway!’ Hugh yelled back.
‘Then why the hell did you?’
‘I needed a job.’ His knuckles grew white as he clutched the reins.
‘You can get work in Darwin or on someone else’s property.’
‘No. I don’t want that,’ said Hugh. The words caught in his throat as he looked intently at Ross.
‘Why not? You don’t like it here. You argue and whinge. Arrive for a week and then clear off again. What’s the point of coming, Hugh, if you don’t want to be here? You’re wasting both our time.’
‘Because you’re my father! You’re the person who wrote to me every month for years! Who taught me about life and how not to live it. I took to keeping a calendar so that I’d know roughly when a letter from you might arrive, and I’d run back from school to check the mail, sure of eventually hearing from you again. I’d reread them at night when everyone was asleep, and I still have them. Every one of them.’
Ross felt something inside him begin to break.
‘I know more about you than the man who raised me. I know more about horses and buffalo and this whole damn territory because of you. I know where to find water in a dry time when there’s none worth finding, how to rope a bull calf come branding season, and I dream of owning a coal-black horse that can race across the plains. I know how much a person can live through before they go bad from the inside out, and I understand that some families can hurt. You’ve done everything a person possibly can do and more, and all I’ve ever dreamt about is one day being like you.’
The boy’s eyes were wet with tears. Ross swallowed. He slowly got down from his horse and shuffled to Hugh’s side. He tried to speak but nothing came to him. He simply looked up at his son and then he rested his forehead on the boy’s leg. He thought of what Hugh had said and what it meant to him, and eventually Hugh’s hand settled on the back of his hair and they stayed that way. Hugh in the saddle and Ross leaning against him.
Overhead, the escarpment bore down hard and glittered in the noon light. The boy would grow to be a man unafraid to speak the truth of things. He would know right from wrong. And Ross had helped forge that, as the boy had made him realise that his own life was not without purpose. It was the strangest sensation, being a father who had been saved by his son.
Chapter 62
Darcey lay on the bed, a number of pillows supporting her. The shutters were closed, the room darkened to combat the heat. Her eyes were ringed with tiredness. Annie had taken over her care, making her eat small meals of soup, and this appeared to restore her energy for a few weeks until her growing size and the increasing heat worsened her lethargy. Ross sat by her side, the springs making pinging noises under his weight, then he lifted his legs and lay down beside her, boots and all.
‘Has something happened? You look concerned.’
He rested a hand on her exhausted body. ‘How are you?’
‘Tired and ready to have your baby. I look like a whale.’
‘Never. I had a talk with Hugh.’
‘Oh.’
‘Actually, he was the one that spoke. I listened.’
‘And it didn’t go very well? I suppose he’s angry about the baby.’
From somewhere in the house came the sound of whistling. It was Hugh, readying his gear for the muster.
‘He admires me, Darcey. Me? We had a fight a
nd I told him to go back to Darwin and it all came out. How he’d read my letters and kept them. It was –’ He broke off, conscious of the tremors rising from the very centre of his body.
‘Oh, Ross. Of course he admires you. You’re his father.’
Ross struggled to his feet and at the window he opened the shutters and lifted the sash. Hot, dry air pushed into the room, along with the slight scent of land burning in the east. ‘I didn’t expect him to say what he did, Darcey. After everything –’
‘You don’t believe you’re deserving of his love?’ she asked.
He turned to her. ‘I don’t think I deserve much at all. I still can’t understand how I earnt you.’
‘Come here, Ross.’
He walked to her side reluctantly. A well of emotion remained bottled within, as he feared making a fool of himself in front of the woman he loved.
‘Don’t you think you’ve punished yourself enough?’
‘You don’t understand.’
‘What? That you’ve spent your life fighting the desires of others, until you ended up fighting yourself. Look at you, standing there in that unbreakable body, days away from being a father again, unable to see what I saw from the very beginning, that you’re a strong man. The man who I grew to love, against the odds, but a man who still hasn’t managed to absolve himself from the errors of the past. It’s time to do that, Ross. It’s time to forgive yourself. It’s time to let go and move forward.’ She patted the bed and he sat next to her once again.
‘How does a person ever excuse himself for the bad choices he’s made?’
She gripped his fingers. ‘The first step is recognising the wrongness of those decisions.’
‘And the second?’ he asked.
‘Is letting go of the past and learning how to love yourself again.’
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