An Uncommon Woman

by Nicole Alexander

  ‘You’re to sit in on this meeting, Aiden, and learn. And what you hear is not to be repeated, especially to your sister. Edwina is impressionable. I am taking you into my confidence, into the workings of my business.’

  ‘Yes, sir. What a marvellous room,’ replied Aiden, distracted by the furnishings and the long sideboard which was crowded with bottles of alcohol. ‘So, this all belongs to the son. Lucky guy.’

  Hamilton nodded.

  ‘Good morning, I’m Charles Ridgeway.’

  Turning, Hamilton shook the outstretched hand of the young man who had appeared. The heir to an indebted forty thousand acres, Charles was tall, well-bred by his symmetrical looks, but not at all what he expected. He’d thought to meet a well-dressed citified type, with the kind of healthy countenance that suggested he’d been good at sports at school. But the man before him was nut-brown and hard-muscled with a handgrip that brought tears to the eyes. ‘Hamilton Baker,’ he announced, rubbing briefly at his hand. ‘And my son, Aiden.’

  The man gave a disarming smile. ‘Welcome, Mr Baker, Aiden.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ a female voice called from outside.

  Hamilton followed Charles’ gaze out the window to where three women and a man of similar age reclined on blankets in the sun.

  ‘My friends,’ he explained. ‘Donella, can you please take out a round of drinks before they start throwing things.’ The maid went straight to the cabinet and began lining up crystal glasses. ‘I think they expected a little more excitement, but I’m afraid I’ve only had the circus to offer as entertainment. Although the theft of that lion cub provided some conversation.’

  ‘An unfortunate happening,’ replied Hamilton, noting the casualness of Charles’ attire, a shirt and open waistcoat.

  ‘We’ve been taking bets on who would give up first, the girl or her partner. You haven’t heard anything, have you?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Hamilton discreetly elbowed Aiden, drawing his son away from the picture window framing the pretty young women clustered outside. ‘I expect they’ll be found soon.’

  ‘We heard the circus owner posted a reward for the safe return of the cub. Apparently they’re worth a fortune,’ explained Charles. ‘Of course, the thieves have to get it somewhere where it can be sold first. I would have thought that would be a problem in itself.’

  Expecting to be led to the comfortable settee and matching cane chairs, Hamilton was a little amused to find the young cove playing Lord of the Manor. Charles sat behind the large leather desk in the corner, gesturing to the seats opposite. A good sign perhaps, Hamilton considered. Does the boy know the difference between business and pleasure, or is he just trying on his new role as heir for size? Hamilton settled back in the chair and crossed his legs, noticing the filthy wide-brimmed Akubra sitting on the desk.

  ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Charles. You’re here with your wife?’

  ‘No, friends, Mr Baker. It’s been some time since my sister and I came home. I’ve only just returned from the Territory.’

  ‘I thought you were based in Brisbane.’

  ‘Not for some years. The outback beckoned.’

  ‘That would have been an experience,’ said Hamilton, impressed by the man’s fortitude. Would that his own son had the ability.

  ‘Yes. It’s a big country. Anyway, I coerced my friends to join us with promises of adventure. My mistake and their boredom. I’m afraid I never was a great partygoer, but I forgot how much they are.’

  ‘Nothing like travel, hey what?’ Hamilton responded agreeably. So the young man was unmarried. The loan document was in his top pocket should an examination of the outstanding debt be required, and if it wasn’t? If Charles had funds at his disposal, well then, that was quite another matter. Here then was what Hamilton had been searching for – a young man of good breeding who would very soon be debt free and cash rich. There were possibilities here if Charles proved amiable. The boy would be thankful for Worth’s offer to buy the property, and then there was Edwina. A good marriage was in the offing. That’s how dynasties were made.

  Charles made a point of offering them morning tea and when the maid returned from carrying the drinks outside to his companions, he asked her to fetch the beverage for the three of them.

  ‘I knew your parents, Charles. We met on a number of occasions. I was sorry to hear of the accident.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Baker. My father loved automobiles as much as he loved a party. Anyway, it’s a good twelve years ago now and I rather think that if he’d not been turned down by the army for being too old he would have been killed over there anyway, considering the casualties.’

  ‘A harsh assessment,’ answered Hamilton.

  Charles shrugged. ‘I was fourteen when they died. I barely remember what they were like. They loved Ridgeway Station though. As did Louise and I. When we arrived here the other day it really was like coming home.’

  ‘It’s a bit different to the Northern Territory I’d imagine,’ said Aiden.

  ‘It is, mate, yes. There’s so much potential up there. So much space. So many opportunities. It’s quite a thing to be walking alongside thousands of head of cattle bringing them into the nearest yards. Makes this sheep business boring in comparison. Anyway, I believe, Mr Baker, that you and Mr Fernleigh are having some difficulties. That’s why you’re here, I gather.’

  So much for niceties. Hamilton’s eyebrows drew together. ‘Boundary problems, yes.’ The manager was clearly on good terms with the family, his presence inside the house on their arrival evidence of this.

  Charles drew a ledger from a drawer and flipped the pages until he’d located the information required. ‘Substantial problems, I’d say. We seem to be missing some sheep.’

  Hamilton wasn’t here to discuss lamb roasts, but he was prepared. ‘And I am missing income from the damage done to my crops. I have noted the loss over the years in terms of yield and done my best to seek compensation as Mr Fernleigh refuses to oblige.’ Hamilton opened the notebook showing the dates and numbers of sheep that had wandered onto his property.

  Charles tapped the page. ‘I see. And these numbers are?’

  ‘The acres damaged each year and the sheep I have kept as payment for the destruction. I suspect that Fernleigh keeps cutting the boundary fence in order to feed your livestock. In your absence of course.’

  ‘Really?’ Charles sounded unconvinced.

  ‘Your manager threatened me yesterday, which is one of the reasons for my visit this morning.’

  Donella arrived, setting a cup and saucer before each of them and pouring strong black tea.

  ‘Thank you, Donella.’ Charles waited until the maid left the room. ‘Yes, Mr Fernleigh did mention the incident. He’s obsessive in his role, but harmless.’

  ‘It didn’t feel harmless,’ countered Hamilton, wondering how the lad could have the slightest idea of his employee’s ability or personality. ‘And with due respect, Charles, with no family member here on the station to keep an eye on things, the man has been allowed to run quite unchecked.’

  ‘But you weren’t the one who had a native pointing a rifle at your back, were you, Mr Baker?’ stated Charles.

  They eyeballed each other across the desk. ‘No, Fernleigh’s rifle was pointed at my chest, but I’m sure he didn’t bother to share that with you.’ Hamilton didn’t wait for a response. ‘The best fertiliser is provided by the footprints of the owner, Charles; management of staff is imperative to the running of a business, and a manager is a manager, after all. Fernleigh should remember his place.’

  Charles appeared entertained. He leant back in the chair, crossing his leg so that an ankle rested on a knee. ‘And you’re here to offer me some friendly advice as to the management of my staff?’

  ‘Your property is overstocked. That’s the reason your sheep are hungry. And I don’t see any of your staff out there patching up the fence. It’s always us that must tend to it. We are the ones suffering damage and it has gone on far too long.�
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  ‘I see.’

  ‘The incident will be reported to the authorities. But I trust that while you are here visiting you will instil in Fernleigh the necessity to behave like an enlightened human being.’ He stopped momentarily, pleased to see Charles’ irritated expression. ‘In the meantime I am here to discuss the substantial monies owed me by the Ridgeway family. As I am aware you have now come of age regarding the estate and with your uncle’s illness,’ Hamilton lifted his hands, palms up, ‘unfortunately it falls to us to discuss such matters.’

  Charles closed the ledger, replacing it in the desk drawer, his movements brisk. ‘I am aware of the outstanding loan. I would like to extend it.’

  ‘It is with regret that I am unable to do so.’

  ‘Why not?’ Withdrawing a tin of tobacco from his breast pocket Charles crushed the leaf between large palms before deftly rolling it in paper. Hamilton caught sight of the man’s hard-skinned hands as he tapped the end of the cigarette on the table, lit it and exhaled the smoke thoughtfully.

  ‘The contract clearly stipulates –’

  ‘Contracts can be amended,’ Charles answered, ‘we both know that. Don’t take me for some schoolboy, Mr Baker.’

  ‘Not a single interest payment has been made over the term of the loan and the amount outstanding is very large.’

  Charles inhaled deeply.

  ‘And nor was the possibility of an extension noted in the terms of the agreement,’ explained Hamilton. ‘I’m sorry, but I have been informing your family for a number of years now. You have sighted the correspondence forwarded to your solicitor?’

  ‘Recently, yes. As I explained, I’ve been away.’

  ‘So you said,’ Hamilton replied equally crisply, ‘running after someone else’s livestock.’

  Charles crumpled the cigarette in an ashtray. ‘You should be able to relate to that.’

  Hamilton didn’t appreciate the implication. He could only conclude that the wilds of the north had been the fatherless lad’s undoing. Studying him now he could clearly see the rough-and-ready stockman barely hidden behind the remains of a private school education and the chance of being born into a well-known pastoral family. If this was the new breed of landowner, the likes of Peter Worth had their work cut out in the future. ‘You know that you have until the end of the week to make good on the transaction.’

  ‘The end of the week? But I thought … And if I can’t?’ responded Charles, a definite edge to his voice.

  ‘Then unfortunately you will need to dispose of some asset in order to meet your legal obligations,’ said Hamilton carefully. ‘You understand that I don’t want to force a sale but time is up. In any case I would have thought your solicitor would have advised you accordingly, no matter where you were.’

  ‘My uncle handled our family’s affairs.’

  Hamilton considered the limited options available. He could suggest a partial sale of the station but Peter Worth wanted the entire property. Besides, the situation presented the perfect transaction. Hamilton would have the loan repaid to him in full and benefit from doing business with the Guild’s President. And eventually the monies received would go towards enlarging his share portfolio.

  ‘And you really won’t consider an extension?’ asked Charles.

  Hamilton dipped his chin. ‘My hands are tied.’

  Charles, distinctly unimpressed, pushed his chair backwards, the timber striking the window behind. ‘I did wonder why my uncle didn’t approach a bank,’ he said, standing, ‘instead of using your services. I suppose he wanted to keep things private but your interest terms are pure highway robbery. If that’s all, Mr Baker?’ he said dismissively.

  Hamilton wasn’t prepared to be spoken to like that. ‘Charles, I do understand the difficulty this presents but I was under the impression from your uncle that there was unlikely to be another generation of Ridgeways here on the property. That being the case and with this matter pressing then may I offer some advice? If you have no other saleable assets then you must consider selling Ridgeway Station.’

  ‘No.’ His voice was firm.

  Hamilton tried to remain calm. Years of grovelling to the Guild members, of trying to better his place in society, of being accepted, and it all came down to this moment and the young man opposite him behind his father’s desk. He had to close this deal. ‘So then we return to the question of how you intend to repay the loan.’ Careful, Hamilton warned himself. Debtors could turn skittish in an instant. It was time for a little fact finding. ‘Have you received any expressions of interest?’

  Charles remained standing. ‘No. I’m not selling.’

  Hamilton paused. ‘Aiden saw an automobile on the property last week and –’

  ‘So that was you?’ commented Charles to Aiden.

  Aiden looked over the rim of his teacup. ‘Yes, my sister and I were out riding.’

  ‘Well, don’t worry, Mr Baker, it was me, on my land.’

  Hamilton ignored the proprietorial air. Had he been less of a gentleman he would have plugged young Ridgeway in the nose. ‘So you can either place a mortgage on the property to repay the debt owed or sell and recoup. If you do choose to sell I have an interested party. Do think carefully, Charles. As a friend of your father’s I am trying to do my best for you and you know what they say, pride cometh before a fall.’

  ‘Are you threatening me, Mr Baker?’ Charles’ fist curled.

  Hamilton hoped something could be salvaged from the meeting, but that now appeared unlikely. ‘I’m simply a businessman stating the obvious.’ He waited, hoping Charles would see reason.

  ‘You could extend the loan if you wanted to,’ argued Charles.

  Yes, he could; however, Hamilton made it a practice never to delay settlement and only in the most extraordinary of situations did he extend credit beyond the initial agreement. He drank the now cold tea in three gulps. ‘Well, I can see that you’re not interested in discussing options. Please be advised that the monies are due by 5 pm this Friday. If not received by this time you will be in default and I will commence legal proceedings immediately.’ Hamilton stood; Aiden followed his lead. ‘It’s probably worthwhile remembering that it was your family that came to me for the loan, Charles. Take that under advisement the next time we speak. This is Queensland. Not the Northern Territory. We’re civilised here.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Am I disturbing you?’ A young woman appeared, smiling prettily.

  Hamilton observed his son as Aiden, standing next to him, stood a little straighter.

  ‘My sister, Louise,’ introduced Charles. ‘Mr Baker and Aiden were just leaving.’

  ‘Oh, from next door, but you must come over and visit us. We’re starved for company, aren’t we?’ Louise didn’t wait for an answer as she walked forwards, resting a hand briefly on Aiden’s arm.

  Hamilton cleared his throat as laughter streamed in from outside. ‘Thank you, but unfortunately we must be on our way.’

  The girl pouted charmingly, looking to her brother for support.

  ‘We mustn’t keep Mr Baker from what he does best,’ replied Charles sarcastically.

  ‘Then if the mountain won’t come to Mohammed.’

  ‘This is Queensland, Louise,’ Charles said sternly to his sister, ‘a most civilised part of the world. One must wait to be invited.’

  Hamilton noted Louise’s questioning expression, when the expected invitation to visit the Bakers’ property did not materialise. Their leave-taking was stilted, and as they walked through the house Louise could be heard cross-examining her brother.

  ‘I didn’t know you lent money to people like the Ridgeways,’ whispered Aiden.

  Hamilton looked at his son’s gaping mouth and prayed he’d not been staring at Charles with that same shocked expression for the entire time. ‘Well, now you do. And you will keep this matter to yourself, Aiden. Remember what I said earlier.’

  ‘Yes, Father. I thought he may have reached over the desk and grabbed you by the collar at one stage
. Are all your meetings like that?’

  ‘Not usually, no.’

  ‘Is it a lot of money that’s owed?’ asked Aiden.

  ‘Enough.’

  ‘Do you think you’ll get it?’

  ‘I have the law on my side.’ His son didn’t respond and Hamilton wondered if he thought as he did – that with Charles and Fernleigh in a similar frame of mind, the law might not be enough. They were quite a handful to have brooding on the other side of a boundary fence.

  Outside, little was altered between the men. Davidson still sat astride his horse with the rifle directed at the manager, while Mr Fernleigh was his mirror image, although the hairy stockman lounged in the squatter’s chair as if his spine was incapable of supporting his body.

  ‘Come on,’ said Hamilton gruffly to the waiting men, mounting his horse and ignoring the manager’s unsavoury comments.

  ‘Don’t come back again unless you’ve an invitation!’ the manager yelled.

  This time Hamilton didn’t have a suitable retort. Fury blinded him. Everything he’d worked for lay in ruins thanks to the Ridgeway upstart, unless Charles had no other option but to sell. He’d not said he intended to stay on; however, with his experience up north he would probably be more than capable of running the station. Either way it would become unpleasant now. He could feel it in his gut. When he had arrived at the property, Hamilton had appeased himself with the knowledge that, no matter what happened, Peter Worth would get the land, he would get his monies and the unqualified friendship of his latest client, and Fernleigh would undoubtedly be out of a job. Now, as Hamilton spurred his horse, he wasn’t so sure. The financial laws were one thing; Charles Ridgeway quite another. He was sorry he’d even considered his daughter’s union with such a man.