Red Dust

by Fleur McDonald

  Pat raised his eyebrows. 'Bloody oath.'

  They were both quiet for a while, mulling over what she'd said.

  'So,' Pat said finally, 'why do you think there were a thousand wether lambs dumped on Billbinya? That's the most concerning thing. I mean, giving Adam the benefit of the doubt, he might have just annoyed the TAB man or something. He might not have done anything too wrong – although knowing Adam he'd have been into something. But the wethers on Billbinya puts you in a pretty nasty spot. Are they still here? Did you tell the stock squad guy?'

  'Well, no and no. And what do you mean "knowing Adam", anyway? Bulla went back out to Reimer's paddock the next morning to bring the wethers into the yards and they were gone. I was going to tell the stock squad guy tomorrow.'

  'Have you told Mum and Dad?'

  'No, I've really only realised that something weird is going on since Dad got crook. They were stolen the night of Dad's heart attack.'

  'I think you need a lawyer.'

  Gemma looked at Pat in horror. 'I haven't done anything wrong!' she exclaimed.

  Pat shook his head. 'Doesn't matter, sis; you've had stolen stock on your property. They could put you away for aiding and abetting or something, I don't know.' Pat stood up and started to pace the room. 'I don't think you understand how serious this could be.' He stopped and looked at her.

  'I haven't done anything wrong,' she said again in a smaller voice.

  'Doesn't matter – unless you can prove that then you're in deep manure. Do you know a lawyer?'

  'No! I've never needed one. Believe it or not, I'm usually reasonably law-abiding.'

  'Okay, well Jess will. Give her a call in the morning before this stock squad guy gets here, and don't talk to him until you've had some legal advice.' He looked at his watch. 'I'll stay tonight and we'll sort out a plan in the morning. Can I sleep in the spare room?'

  'Yeah, of course. I don't think I'll sleep though.'

  'Me neither, but we should try.' Pat looked at Gemma. 'Don't worry, sis, we'll get it sorted.' He patted her on the shoulder as he left the room.

  Later, in Gemma's spare room, Pat sat on the edge of the bed and thought. Adam was a funny bugger. It wasn't that Pat hadn't got along with him; he had, especially on nights that they had pub crawls planned, or some sort of party in mind. But after he'd moved to Queensland permanently, he really had lost touch with Adam – and when he did come home, the pub crawls and partying weren't the same. Gemma and Adam were married, and up to their ears in debt. Debt was a killer, especially with interest rates as high as they were and stock and wool prices low. The last time he was back at Hayelle and Billbinya, some twelve months earlier, Patrick had sensed a subtle change in Adam. He couldn't really put his finger on it, but it was as if he was slightly cockier than usual. Like he knew something no one else did. Jess had mentioned something about it as well, he remembered. He hadn't taken her concerns seriously at the time. Jess got along with Adam for Gemma's sake, but hadn't ever liked him. Now he wondered if he should have paid more attention.

  * * *

  The next day Patrick was up bright and early. He and Gemma had breakfast together before Patrick headed back to Hayelle, promising to be back before the stock squad arrived.

  As soon as he was gone Gemma bolted for the kennels and then the ute. She had to get away from the house, into the wide open space. She checked the calving cows, then drove out to check the ewes and lambs that they had marked in previous weeks, before heading to the creek. There she sat on a rock in silence, thoughts racing around her head. Patrick and Kate, weddings, Adam, wether lambs and the stock squad. None of these thoughts made any sense to her, they were all too jumbled.

  'But Adam. Adam, what had he been involved in?' Gemma looked at the scenery without seeing. Her eyes narrowed, deep in thought. Had he given any clues? Not that she could think of. He was still the caring, loving husband he had always been. Busy? Yeah, they all were. Distracted? Maybe a bit. Trustworthy? Yes. He returned stock to neighbours and always rang if an animal had got through a fence – even if it was a tiny lamb. Gemma shook her head. She hadn't noticed any change in him. He couldn't have been involved with anything illegal. He was too honest.

  But soon the fresh air and peaceful surrounds worked their magic, and she could hear the magpies singing and the sheep calling to their lambs. Feeling the sun on her skin, she leaned back gratefully and closed her eyes, letting the warmth seep right through her.

  When Gemma arrived back at the sheds at lunchtime, she was surprised to find Bulla waiting for her.

  'G'day, I thought you were over on the top part of the place getting cattle in for marking,' said Gemma.

  'Haven't seen much of you since before you went away, so I thought I'd better see how things were. Heard anything from the police?'

  'Yeah, they rang yesterday evening. Some guy from the stock squad is coming out today at about four, so I'll tell him about the wethers then.'

  'Well, Gaz and me will be in the shed if he wants to talk to us. Do you want Jack around?'

  'Yeah, I s'pose he'd better be in case this guy wants to ask him where he was on the night of blah at such-and-such a time.' Gemma smiled, trying to make a joke of things.

  'No worries. Are you coming up to the yards? We could do with a hand.'

  'I'll just grab a sandwich and be right with you.'

  Gemma spent the rest of the afternoon chasing calves up into a raceway to where Bulla would push them into a calf-marking crush. The calves were pinned so they couldn't move or kick, then Gaz would deftly slip a rubber ring around the testicles – so they couldn't reproduce – and then earmark them, claiming them as Billbinya bred and owned. Jack then pulled the calf crush open and the calves would jump out with a bawl, then scurry towards the mums who were standing in a big yard bellowing loudly, waiting for their babies to return.

  At last the mob was finished and Gemma looked at her watch. 'Shit,' she swore. 'I'm going to be late. See you all back at the homestead.' It was only as she was driving back that she remembered she hadn't rung Jess to find out about a lawyer. She shrugged. Surely she didn't really need one.

  She arrived back at the house to find a muddy white four-wheel-drive wagon and a guy leaning up against it. She drove through the gate and stopped behind his car. Jumping out of the ute, she held out her hand as she walked towards him.

  'Sorry I'm late. I'm Gemma Sinclair.'

  The tall man shook her hand and said, 'No problem. Dave Burrows from the stock squad. Thanks for seeing me.'

  'So you found me okay? I did mean to ask if you needed directions. Come on inside.' They turned and walked towards the house.

  'Geoff and Ian, the two officers who came to see you last week, gave me the heads up as to where everyone was. It's always hard going into a new area. You learn to read maps pretty quick.' He flashed her a smile.

  Making coffee, Gemma glanced at the man sitting at her table. He was wearing a light-blue shirt with the stock squad emblem on it and denim jeans, and he'd left his dark brown R.M. boots at the door. His dark hair was cut short in an army style and his skin was tanned, as if he spent a lot of time in the sun. His notepad lay on the table in front of him and Gemma could see it was full of scribbles from other interviews with her neighbours today. She could see a name written in capital letters and underlined, and as she put the coffee down she was shocked to read, upside down, ADAM SINCLAIR.

  Shit shit shit, she thought. Where the hell was Patrick? Gemma pasted a smile on her face and said, 'Would you excuse me a minute?', then headed towards the office. Frantically she dialled Pat's mobile, but there was no answer. Then she noticed the answering machine light flashing. She hit the play button and Pat's voice filled the room.

  'G'day, sis. Been held up, had to pull a calf. See you as soon as I can.'

  Gemma swore under her breath.

  An uncertain female voice followed Pat's message. 'Um, hi Gemma, it's Paige here. I was wondering if you might have time to catch up for lunch or somethi
ng. Anyway, you've got my number. I just thought I'd say hi. Um, seeya.'

  Gemma made a mental note to call her back later and headed back to the kitchen.

  'So, how can I help?' asked Gemma, sitting down at the kitchen table and picking up her coffee mug.

  'Well, I've just been talking to a few people in the

  area and getting some information. Just thought I'd see if you've got anything to add. Really, I'm just here to help everyone and see if we can get to the bottom of what's going on.'

  Gemma smiled weakly.

  'So, the guys that were here talking to you before said that you were on the road the night that all these wethers disappeared, is that right?'

  'Yep, I had a phone call from my mum saying Dad had had a heart attack, so I drove in to the hospital at Port Pirie. I really wasn't concentrating on what was happening around me, so I don't think I can tell you anything more about that night.'

  'Is your dad okay now?'

  'Yeah, but he'll be in Adelaide for a while. My brother Patrick is over giving us a hand on Dad's farm, Hayelle, so that helps me with my workload.'

  'How long have you been living on Billbinya?'

  'Oh, coming up nine years. I moved out here when Adam and I were married, and I decided I wouldn't sell when he died. I don't really know anything else other than farming; I need the space. And I'm a local through and through. My parents' farm is about fifty k to the south of here.'

  Dave smiled. 'I can understand that. It must be hard though, out here by yourself – and it's not like stock prices are great, and wool prices are in the doldrums.'

  Dave was very friendly and Gemma was beginning to relax in his presence. 'No, it's not easy, but it's my life. I was taught that you don't give up just because things are a bit tough. I'm still here, and I hope I will be in years to come.'

  'So you've been in the area for a while – have you ever heard of any stock stealing going on around here before?'

  Gemma shook her head. 'No, this is a first. I feel so sorry for everyone involved; it would be devastating to lose some of your livelihood that way. And I know the people who have had the stock stolen – they're nice families.'

  'Do you know them well?'

  'Well, I have known the Kettles ever since I was small. We're not close, but we're neighbourly, if that makes sense. We've had them over for tea occasionally.'

  'How recently?'

  'Oh, last year I think. I can look in my diary and see if it's written there, but if it was impromptu it won't be. Sometimes Adam used to run into people on the road and would invite them back or just call in to see them and they would end up back here. It was my worst nightmare – I'm not a great cook and never have a huge amount of food in the house.'

  'So you'd have socialised with local station owners pretty regularly?'

  'Well, about a year and a half ago Adam started up a Best Farmers group. It involved quite a lot of farmers around this area. We used to get together once a month or so and talk about what we were doing on the stations and if someone had a good idea we would look at the pros and cons of it and see if it was worth implementing on other places. So yeah, we had a fair bit of contact with our neighbours.'

  'Could I grab your diaries and take them back to the station to have a look at? I'd really appreciate it.'

  Gemma shrugged, not really seeing the point of it. 'Sure.'

  'So can you think of any information that might help us?'

  Gemma shifted in her seat. 'Well, actually I think I may have something. I rang the police about it but no one returned my call.'

  Dave looked up from his notes expectantly.

  'After I got back from the hospital in Pirie, one of my stockmen, Bulla, told me that there were about a thousand wether lambs in one of our back paddocks.' Dave's eyebrows shot up. 'But when we went to run them they were gone. Like I said, I did try to get in contact with the Port Pirie police – and I want to stress that there is no way anyone on Billbinya could have been invol–'

  Dave broke in over the top of her. 'Were they the stolen sheep?'

  'I don't think anyone could say. We didn't get them in the yards, so we weren't close enough to see the earmarks. They weren't ours because Bulla would have known our sheep.'

  'I'd like to talk to Bulla.'

  'Okay, all the fellas should be over in the sheds

  by now. We were marking calves this afternoon and they just had to put the mob back into the paddock.'

  'Okay, first things first. Do you have a map of Billbinya?'

  Gemma went into the office and brought one out. She showed Dave which paddock the sheep had been in and how far away from the houses they were. At his request, she then fetched a district map to point out where the other farms were in relation to Billbinya.

  They refilled their coffee mugs and, as the sun went down, Gemma answered a barrage of questions as truthfully as she could.

  Finally Dave said, 'Well, I think that's about it. Let me just recap. Three employees and you've given me their names. All three of these guys have access to keys that open the padlocks on your external gates; they also have access to every paddock on the station. You don't know if Jack has a criminal record, but the others definitely don't. Ned Jones from Hawkins and Jones Stock Agents and Merchandise is your stock agent, and there is a new guy, Ben Daylee, who has started coming out a bit with Ned. Now, Gemma, I do need to ask: is there any chance that Adam could have been involved, or known someone who's involved in stock stealing? I'm sorry I have to ask, but surely you can see that Billbinya is going to be a place of interest to us now. I'm not saying you had anything to do with it – I'm not even saying that someone who works here had anything to do with it – but I have to consider every possibility.'

  Gemma took a deep breath. 'No,' she replied. 'There's no way Adam would have stolen from his neighbours.'

  'Okay, let's go and talk to the others.'

  Over in the shed the men were tinkering with vehicles.

  After introducing Dave to Garry and Bulla, Gemma looked around.

  'Where's Jack?' she asked.

  'Crook. He looked like he was about to spew. He went off to the loo.'

  'Just what we need, a vomiting bug,' Gemma groaned. 'Well, Dave, I'll leave you to talk to the guys. I guess you don't want me here in case they feel they can't talk freely.'

  Dave grinned. 'You watch too many TV shows. I'm not really interviewing, just asking a couple of questions.' He focused on Bulla. 'I'd like to see the paddock the sheep were found in. Is it far?'

  'It's too far to go tonight. It's dark and you won't see anything.'

  'Okay, how 'bout tomorrow?'

  'Fine,' Bulla said shortly.

  'What can you tell me about the sheep? Could you see whose they were?'

  'Nah, I didn't get close enough. I drove around them, but sheep don't stand still, so I couldn't tell what earmark they had. I do know they weren't Billbinya's.'

  'How could you tell?'

  'I guess I just know what our sheep look like. I dunno.'

  'Okay, why don't I come back tomorrow – I can talk to Jack and we can see the paddock.' Dave looked at Gemma for confirmation.

  'Yep, no problem. I'll walk you to your car.'

  'See you tomorrow, guys.' Dave waved a hand at them.

  Bulla and Garry nodded at him and turned away.

  'Thanks for your cooperation, Gemma. It makes all the difference if people are helpful,' Dave said.

  'No worries – like I said to Bulla, I haven't done anything wrong, so I have nothing to hide.'

  They reached the car and Dave turned to look closely at her. It still amazed him how much a face could give away when you were skilled at reading expressions. Something niggled in the back of his brain. Was she being too helpful? Dave made a snap decision. 'On second thoughts, I might have to give tomorrow a miss. I've got so many notes to write up from today. I might leave it a few days, get my thoughts headed in the right direction, and then give you a call. Would that be okay?'

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