by Sasha Wasley
But Willow knew it was a good plan. It was the culmination of her years of research into the best modern pastoral strategies in the world, and her calculations showed it would work financially. This business plan was a work of art, dammit. She printed it, put it into a folder and presented it to Hegney.
While he sat in the office and read it, she went to talk to the stockmen getting ready for a muster at the end of the week. The droving manager was Vern Yannapinga, a quiet bloke whom she liked. He wasn’t showy or risk-taking like some of the other guys. He seemed pretty accepting of her ideas on low-stress cattle handling, too. She’d expected resistance at the stockman level and figured Hegney would have to help her bring them on board, or maybe even do some hiring and firing. She sure didn’t expect Hegney to call her back into the office while Barry was napping, sit her down opposite where he was seated at her desk and tell her that her business plan needed ‘a lot of work’.
‘I’ve had a good look through the document,’ he said, frowning down at her printout as though he were a teacher breaking bad news about a poor exam result. ‘I can see some problems. A lot of problems, actually.’
‘Oh!’ Willow was too surprised to say anything else so she lapsed into silence.
Over the next two hours, Hegney challenged her on every single item in her plan. He started with her pasture strategy, insisting it would take much longer – over three years to establish the foraging crops, he thought, plus another year to train cattle to eat things they didn’t normally eat. Willow had read dozens of papers and visited stations where these strategies had been implemented, as well as doing her own scientific study on the topic, so she knew better. She started to argue but he moved quickly onto her muster techniques and weaning methods. Bemused, Willow sat and listened.
‘And now the biggie. The no-antibiotics thing. I don’t even know where we can get decent feed like that.’
‘I’ve got contacts —’
‘Have you seen what happens when cattle don’t get regular anti-B treatment? They all carry diseases and if you don’t keep the bacteria under control it spreads like wildfire. It can wipe out whole herds. I don’t think your family would be too pleased if you threw away the next two years’ income.’
Did he think she was a complete moron? ‘There’s very little evidence to suggest that preventative antibiotic treatment is any more likely to keep a herd healthy than non-tainted feed.’
‘Tainted?’ Hegney sat back in his chair. ‘With all due respect, Miss Paterson, antibiotics are a development in agriculture, not a bloody danger.’
Was he trying to rile her with that condescending ‘Miss Paterson’? ‘Liam, we won’t be able to become an organic operation at all if we don’t start by removing chemicals and additives from our feed.’
‘I think I’d better talk to Barry about this —’
‘No!’ Now she was pissed off. ‘You won’t be talking to Dad. He’s passed the reins to me and that’s how it’s going to be, like it or not.’
Hegney dropped his eyes to her printed plan and twisted his mouth in discomfort – or annoyance. She wondered if this was about her comparative youth, the woman-running-a-station thing, or just that Hegney was generally resistant to change. Willow took a breath. The last thing she needed was the assistant manager walking out, followed by possible staff revolt.
‘Look, you and I obviously aren’t going to see eye to eye on everything, Liam. That’s okay. It’s expected, right? It would be kind of strange if we did.’ She attempted a winning smile. ‘Regardless of our opinions and backgrounds, I can understand why you’d want to talk to my father about what’s happening. However, as I said to you before, I’d like to be the one who first talks to Dad about any changes or decisions.’
Hegney still didn’t look happy, although his posture had relaxed slightly.
‘You say you’re worried some of these things won’t work. You know the Forrests are already using some of these methods, right? Maybe you could chat to Bob and Tom to find out more about how they’re doing things and any problems they’ve had?’
He gazed at her evenly. ‘I know you’re a smart young lady, Willow. I know you’ve done a lot of study. I’ve been working on cattle stations for twenty-five years. If you’re going to send me over to talk to the Forrests about how successful their techniques have been, I think the least you can do is come along, too. You might learn something about organic beef farming that’s not in a book.’
She kept her head up. ‘If the Forrests are comfortable with meeting us both, I’ll gladly submit the business plan to their scrutiny.’ She tried not to think about how many levels of uncomfortable such a meeting would be. But the meeting would probably never come off anyway, not if Tom had a say in it.
‘Okay, that’s a deal then. I’ve got a lot of respect for the Forrests and if they can show me they’ve made any of these things work, then I’ll definitely be willing to give it a shot.’ He shuffled the printout of the plan back into order. ‘As for low-stress muster methods, I’d suggest you go along on the weekend’s muster so you can see exactly what you’re up against. Some of these blokes are from a long line of stockmen and it runs in their blood. It’s not a matter of just saying, Hey, no more bull-buggies. You’re going to have to change the way they think about the animals altogether. You might get some deciding to quit when they hear what you want.’
Willow nodded. ‘I understand and accept that.’
Hegney hesitated. ‘You’d sacrifice reliable, competent staff for your vision? You know how hard they are to find, don’t you?’
This was a little close to Tom’s accusation that she had more compassion for animals than humans and she faltered. ‘I’d prefer not to, obviously, but if there are any staff who simply can’t support what we’re trying to do, or who actively undermine it, then they might be better off seeking other employment.’
Hegney raised his eyebrows.
‘And yes, I will go on muster this weekend if I can get Beth out to look after Dad.’
‘The boys are leaving Saturday and they reckon they’ll be back here Monday if all goes well.’
‘Okay.’ Willow paused. ‘Are you coming, too?’
‘I can’t ride these days,’ he said. ‘Bad back. But I asked Tom if I can borrow the heli so I can check on the water levels and pastures.’
‘You can fly a helicopter?’
‘I can, but Tom’s flying this time so I can do the recon and photos. We’re heading out on Sunday morning, so we’ll probably stop and join muster camp for a feed around sunset before heading home.’
So much for avoiding the Forrests. Only a few hours had passed since she’d made the decision and already she’d been cornered into a meeting as well as a muster in Tom’s company. When Hegney finally left her alone, she reviewed her emails, tension aching through her shoulders. Tanya had written again.
Hi Willow,
How are things up there? Wow, it’s been three weeks since you left already. Kevin’s still running around like a headless chook but at least Prof. Dale is back to normal. He’s got his eye on Gwen Parry now, can you believe? He always liked the high-achiever postgrads (sound familiar?) and he’s certainly taking her ‘under his wing’. Cradle snatcher, much?
Bryan and I are getting a puppy! We visited the breeder on the weekend and picked one out. She’s a little black-and-white cavalier King Charles spaniel and OMG so adorable. Cannot wait! Bryan wanted a staffy but I talked him into this one. I’m going to call her Daisy.
You must be so busy milking the cows. When do you reckon you might come back for a visit? You need to stay with me and meet Daisy.
Love, Tanya
Willow contemplated replying but her head was too full of Hegney’s pessimism. She didn’t want to spill that onto Tanya. She filed the email, deciding to reply later when she was feeling brighter. Right now, she had to work out how the hell she was going to survive a three-day muster.
The afternoon Willow had spent on horseback with the stockmen w
hen she first arrived home had been nothing compared to what she was about to put herself through. She rode for a couple of hours every day for the rest of the week, trying to condition herself for the weekend. She was sore as hell each night but by Friday she felt more comfortable with the idea of muster. Peanut was a responsive, well-behaved mount with a bit of get-up-and-go, but he still didn’t feel quite the same as Tuffie – there wasn’t that sense of being one with an animal like she’d always had with her little pony. Like a centaur, Tom had written. That was exactly what she and Tuffie had been like. She stroked his hairy nose the night before she was to head off. He seemed restless, like he knew she was going on a muster and wanted to come too.
On Friday afternoon, Beth arrived at the homestead to stay with Barry. She used the monitor that now lived in her old room to check his blood pressure, and then sat down with him at the kitchen table.
‘Are you getting any breathlessness?’
‘A little bit,’ he admitted. ‘If I walk around for a bit too long.’
‘That’s pretty normal, at this stage. Let me know if it gets any worse, though.’ She watched him shrewdly. ‘What have you been getting up to during the day, Dad? Have you got much to do? Are you feeling bored or a bit blue?’
‘Willow’s looking after me,’ he said. ‘She makes me breaky, lunch and dinner.’
‘It’s the only way I can stop him from going out to the staff kitchen for a fry-up,’ Willow joked, handing out cups of tea as she joined them.
‘No fry-ups,’ Beth said, and their father lifted his eyes to the ceiling.
‘I know, I know. I’m doing everything right.’
‘Do you get lonely, with Willow out working all day?’
Willow opened her mouth to defend herself but Barry got in first. ‘She’s not out all day. She’s in here with me, working in the office for a good part of the day, then she goes out for an hour or two at a time but she always sends Jean in to have a chat and a catch up, and bring me a cuppa. She’s taking good care of me, Beth, believe you me. She gets me newspapers and magazines, and she’s shown me how to use the tablet thingo to play Yahtzee online. And every arvo we go for a bit of a hobble around the yards. Don’t we, sweetheart?’
‘Dad’s really following the rules, Beth.’
‘I meant what I said,’ he added. ‘I know exactly how wound up I get when I’m working, so I’m steering well clear. No hard yakka.’
‘Or even soft yakka, right Dad?’
He smiled at Willow. ‘You know I’m here if you need me, sweetheart, but I’m not about to get in your way. I think that’s best for you and me.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’ Beth put her hand on his arm, looking relieved. ‘I have to admit, I’ve been worried you might renege on your promise to retire and relax. I thought you’d get too bored.’
‘I’m in for the long haul,’ he assured her. ‘Free’ll be home next week and she’ll keep me company when Willow’s busy.’
‘How long will she stay, do you think?’ Willow asked. ‘Has she mentioned any more travel plans?’
‘She’s applied for some sort of art job in town, at the school, I think,’ Barry said.
‘Yes, a residency at the high school,’ said Beth. ‘It’s an arts grant thing, but that’s for next year and I don’t think she’s heard back about it yet. As far as I know, she’ll stay home now till at least next year.’
‘Perfect,’ said Willow. ‘We’ve got Free for ages this time. That means there will be two of us to keep you busy, Dad.’
Beth prepared dinner that night, chopping herbs efficiently for a stir-fry, a glass of wine at her elbow. Willow tried to help but Beth just told her she should rest while she could.
‘I still think you’re insane,’ Beth said. ‘You want to ride for ten hours a day and then sleep on the hard ground at night? For two nights?’ She shook her head. ‘I always thought you’d grow out of enjoying muster.’
‘Thanks for dropping your plans to come help with Dad.’
‘I didn’t have any plans, really.’ Beth paused to sip her wine and gave Willow an ironic smile. ‘No hot dates this weekend. I was planning to go running in the morning but that can wait till Monday.’
‘Do you still play netball?’
‘Too busy.’ Beth chopped fast, like a television chef. Willow was impressed. ‘Whenever they run short of doctors at the hospital they call me in. Just to do routine jobs, but it’s usually in the evenings or on the weekends, so it clashed with netball. I kept letting the team down because of work so I gave up my spot.’
Willow examined her sister. Beth seemed happier than when Willow had first come home. The worry lines had receded and she looked more elegant and pretty than she ever had, with her intelligent dark eyes and high cheekbones. Beth had been offered modelling work when she was at university – she’d declined, but Willow was willing to bet she’d had guys falling all over themselves to get to her. She wondered, not for the first time, why her sister was single. Maybe there was no one stylish enough for Beth in Mount Clair.
‘You can’t have much of a social life, with all that work going on,’ Willow hinted.
Beth shot her an amused look. ‘This, from you? At least I’m not going on a muster tomorrow.’
‘I need to do this.’ Willow dropped her voice and checked the lounge room door to make sure their father couldn’t hear. ‘Hegney’s sceptical about my plans for the station. He suggested I go along to see how the boys manage the cattle. This is a good opportunity, since it’s a short muster.’
‘Hegney’s giving you trouble?’ Beth bristled slightly, and Willow wouldn’t have been surprised if her sister had stormed outside to give Hegney an earful.
‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ she said.
Beth relaxed. ‘To say your line of work is male-centric would be an understatement. It’s got to be a challenge to hold your own, especially while looking after Dad.’ She went back to chopping. ‘I’m bloody glad you’re back, Willow. Even if you are a crazy woman who’s going on muster tomorrow.’
The crew of eight departed in the morning darkness on Saturday and Willow was treated to a spectacular sunrise over the gorges. Her heart swelled at the sight of the peach-coloured light chasing away the last few stars before the sun edged its way up the horizon. She’d missed these moments of breathtaking natural beauty while she was in the city. But the mellow, orange-lit dawn soon faded, and the glare of Kimberley daylight brought oven-like heat and choking dust. Willow tied a bandanna across her mouth whenever she needed a break from breathing in the orange haze. Her ponytail was coated in a fine layer of red dust.
Beth was right about how hard it was. By lunchtime, Willow wondered how she was going to go on. She was barely keeping up with the other stockmen on their horses and motorbikes. Vern fell back, shooting her a sympathetic look.
‘Bit out of practice, boss?’ he asked, bringing his lively mount around.
She laughed ruefully. ‘Just a bit!’
‘We’ll stop for some tucker in ten minutes, give your bones a rest.’
She was dismayed to find Jean hadn’t sent any vegetarian food, and even when she dropped the roast beef out of her buttered roll, all she could taste was meat. She gave up after one bite and grabbed a handful of biscuits and an apple. Thanks, Jean. After lunch, it was even harder to get back in the saddle for more hours of riding over flat, scrubby land with only the occasional interruption of a rocky outcrop. Finally they reached the mob they were seeking – and then the real mustering started.
Willow was so busy she forgot about her aching body. She didn’t have much time to notice the boys’ stock-driving methods, either, focused as she was on bringing up the unruly bullocks at the rear of the mob. She saw a few things she liked and a few she didn’t, but she’d think about that later. Sunglasses on, bandanna secured around her face so she could see and breathe, she rode hard at the back with three other stockmen. Willow zigzagged sharply on Peanut to stop the skittish adolescent bullocks from breaking away fr
om the main group whenever they sniffed out a source of water or food in the opposite direction from which they were heading. She was relieved to find she hadn’t forgotten how to predict a cow’s next move, and performed her role respectably. She even caught a couple of admiring glances from the team through the billowing dust.
They made camp near a half-empty waterhole – a cracked red bowl with a muddy puddle in its centre. To Willow’s relief, there were some tins of baked beans along with the billies of beef stew that the boys were eating, so she was able to get some protein into her body. If she’d thought she’d get an opportunity to make notes on her observations from the day’s ride, she was wrong. Exhausted, she slipped away from where the men were poking at a small campfire, chatting and joking, and unrolled her swag. She climbed inside and fell into a dead slumber. She woke several times during the night because it was a damn uncomfortable bed, and was roused by Vern at four-thirty, well before the sun crept into the sky.
‘There’s not even one muscle that’s not bloody killing me,’ she told him, and he gave a good-natured chuckle.
The stockmen had built another fire but she was too sore to fuss around with making herself a cuppa. She lowered herself gingerly onto her rolled swag nearby and spooned more baked beans from a can into her mouth as breakfast. The stockmen were all grinning at her but it wasn’t malicious and she smiled back bravely. Willow was incredibly grateful when Vern sent a teenaged stockman over with a cup of tea.
They set off as soon as everyone had eaten, driving the cattle towards a source of water on the western side of the property, closer to the river. Willow was pleased to note that there was a good amount of pasture by the water source, too. It was late morning when the Forrest helicopter came into sight from time to time, in the distance – a dot in the bright-blue sky. The team reached their destination early afternoon, got the cattle through the gate, and stopped to make camp for the night. There was a sense of achievement now the cattle were safely in their new pasture, enjoying long drinks at the bore-filled dam. The team found spindly trees to offer a little shade and rested up against swags, rocks and fallen logs. Willow sipped her water, listening as they discussed the events of the day. Surrounded by the scent of sweat and sunscreen, she was close to falling asleep from exhaustion.
