Family Farm

by Palmer, Fiona

  ‘Mate, how lucky was it that there was no wind? It could have been a bloody big blaze, and right near the reserve too. Could have been really bad,’ said Travis, who was standing a metre away, his dreadlocks bouncing as he shook his head.

  Old Pete perked up. ‘I know. That header was sizzling away like a snag on the barbie!’

  ‘Bloody oath,’ Muzza added. ‘The smell when the tyres went up – whew!’

  Izzy’s phone rang. She moved away to a quiet spot among the cars to answer it.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hi, darling. Where are you?’ Jean’s tired voice was faint over the mobile phone.

  ‘Just at the Tree. I’ve put on some beer to say thanks. How’s Dad?’ Izzy asked anxiously.

  ‘Oh, good idea. Your father would have done the same.’ Jean sighed loudly. ‘Well, they’ve transferred him to the Royal Perth Hospital. He’s settled into the ICU for the moment. They say he has burns to thirty-six per cent of his body. He’s on a drip and they’ve got him on antibiotics and pain medication. They’ve dressed the burns on his hands as they’re not as bad, but his legs are going to need some grafts. Looks like we could be here for a month or more, Izzy, so I’ve called your Aunt Sarah and I’m going to stay with her.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’ Izzy’s hand was on her forehead as she strained to hear her mum’s words.

  ‘No, not really. Just keep the place going until your father’s up to sorting stuff out. He’s on a lot of meds, so it’ll be a day or two before his head will be clear enough to think about the farm. Well, honey, I’ve gotta go. Sarah has just turned up.’

  ‘Okay, Mum. Take it easy. Tell Dad I love him.’

  ‘Will do. Bye.’

  Izzy snapped the phone shut and slipped it into her shirt pocket, then headed back to her seat next to Jess.

  ‘Here,’ said Jess, handing Izzy her can.

  Izzy’s hand was shaking as she took her drink and she quickly had another sip to ease her jitters. ‘Thanks, Jess. They’re saying Dad’ll need skin grafts on his legs.’

  Jess’s lips went tight and her forehead scrunched. ‘Ewww … ouch. Your poor dad. But he’s tough. He’ll be fine, Izzy.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. Better pass on the news, I guess.’ Izzy stood up and whistled loudly. The hum of voices died down. ‘Hey, guys, I’ve just had word from Mum that Dad’s in the ICU but he’ll be okay. Oh, and maybe give it a few days before calling as he’ll be a bit spaced out. While I’m at it, we want to thank you for your help today. Can’t find a better bunch of fellas to have around when you’re stuck. So drink up. The beer’s on us.’

  A cheer went up and a few blokes nearby slapped Izzy on the shoulder.

  Izzy knew the bush telegraph still worked well – those who weren’t at the Tree would soon know the latest on her dad and hopefully Izzy would be saved from having to answer lots of phone calls from concerned friends tomorrow.

  Izzy spotted Brian and Will through the crowd, their faces lit by the glow of the pink sunset, and decided to go and thank them personally. Brian’s thick bushy eyebrows stood out prominently and Will’s face looked tired but his eyes were bright, probably still burning with the adrenaline from earlier. He was in jeans and a red and black T-shirt, with his sunnies perched up on his head. He was the cleanest of them all. His mum had probably been fussing over his burnt hands.

  ‘Hey, Mr Timmins,’ Izzy said, reaching up into his tall frame and returning his embrace.

  ‘Hi, Izzy. How you holding up, love? And it’s Brian, okay,’ he added.

  ‘Thanks, Brian. I’m doing all right, I guess.’ Izzy stepped back but left her hand on his arm and glanced at Will too. ‘I wanted to thank you both again for getting there when you did, and for doing so much. I’d hate to think what would’ve … You know. I really appreciate it,’ Izzy croaked as her throat began to tighten.

  Will put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘Just doing what you and Bill would’ve done, kiddo.’

  As Will pulled his hand away, Izzy quickly held it so she could study the burns on his knuckles. ‘How are they?’ she asked. They looked red and sore even with the white of the cream over them.

  ‘They’ll be fine. The cream seems to be working, or it could just be the cold beer,’ he laughed.

  His hands still looked painful to her, and she bet he’d have trouble using them for a while. Suddenly she realised he was watching her and quickly let go of his hand. ‘Anyway, thanks again.’

  Brian nodded his head and raised his beer in return. For an old bloke he was still ruggedly handsome. Short stubble covered his strong chin and his hairline wasn’t receding like most. Will and his dad made a striking pair. The blue of their eyes kept you mesmerised in such a way that the hairs on the back of your neck would stand on end. Izzy had never seen a blue like it. It was as if their eyes were full of electric currents that gave off little sparks. Silver glittery flecks among a deep sea of blue. As a young kid, those eyes had fascinated her.

  ‘Don’t forget, we’re just over the fence if you need anything, okay?’ Will offered, breaking her train of thought.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she replied, her determination to keep things afloat coming to the fore. ‘But if by chance I do get stuck, I’ll give you a holler.’

  ‘We could spare one of our headers and Will could help you finish the harvest,’ said Brian. ‘We’re not far from finishing up, and I don’t mind jumping on to free Will up. I don’t get to do much these days with Will and our new worker running around.’

  ‘Cheers, Brian, but there’s no need. Thanks anyway. Mike’s offered us his.’ Mike Littlemore only had a small amount of crop in this year, so he was already finished. She’d rung him that afternoon and tried to hire his header from him, but Mike wouldn’t hear of it. She’d had offers all night from others who’d wanted to help her harvest, but she’d thanked them all and declined. It was something she could handle herself. It was a chance to prove to her dad that she could run the farm.

  The crowd’s combined voices boomed and echoed in the clear night air and it was after ten when Izzy finally headed home. Tom ran around barking and trying to get Izzy to play but she was completely bushed. She tapped her waist, indicating that Tom should jump up and rest his front paws on her belly. She scratched his ears and said, ‘Not tonight, Tom. Tomorrow we’ll go chase some rabbits.’

  There were so many messages on the answering machine from people in the district wondering how Bill was and offering their help. Betty had suggested – well, informed her, really – that she was going to make some casseroles in case Izzy didn’t feel like cooking. This was wonderful news; Izzy was going to have some late nights until the harvesting was finished.

  Just as he’d promised, Mike delivered his header not long after Izzy got up the following morning. Izzy told him she had a contract driver coming later that day. She didn’t need it getting back to her dad just yet that she’d be doing the harvesting herself.

  Once Mike had left, she fuelled up the header and made a start on the unfinished paddock. It was hard going. Every time she passed the burnt-out header, with the black charcoal ring around it, her stomach gave a lurch and the memories flashed back. Thankfully she finished that particular paddock by nightfall, and wouldn’t have to pass it again. But, for the most part, the work gave her an escape from dwelling on her dad. For once, she could relax back into the seat for the long haul. She dug out a box with old tapes in it that must have been Mike’s. It contained the likes of Slim Dusty, Kenny Rogers and John Williamson, but the tapes were old and wound too tightly so they wouldn’t play. The amount of wheat dust in the tape deck probably didn’t help either.

  ‘I guess we won’t be listening to that, hey, Tom?’ Tom lifted his head from his paws at the sound of his name. ‘We’ll try the radio.’ Izzy flicked onto an old Roxette song, ‘It Must Have Been Love’, which had been a favourite when she was younger. She joined in with the words, bouncing up and down in her seat. As she sang, she gazed ou
t at the contrast of the bright blue sky and the golden tips of the wheat. She loved the way the wheat heads fell into the comb after being cut and were munched up by the header reel. And the way the stubble that was left behind looked like a crew cut, all straight and short with lines running through it from the header tyres. She loved everything about farming – you got to watch Mother Nature as she moved through the seasons. One day it was gloriously sunny and eucalyptus floated through the air, and the next it could be raining and you could smell the dirt as it got wet. It was pure heaven and she couldn’t imagine living without witnessing the changing seasons, experiencing the way of the land. It was definitely her way of life.

  The next morning before the birds were awake, Izzy downed her cuppa and placed it in the sink. It was time to start work – the header didn’t drive itself.

  She made her way to the top paddock, which bordered the Timmins’ farm. Izzy loved the morning starts, when the air was still crisp and fresh before the day got too hot. Tom usually loved it too, but he was curled up by her feet and snoozing soundly. He’d spend all day there happily by her side. She was bouncing along in the header listening to Katy Perry’s ‘Hot and Cold’ on her MP3 player when she heard Will’s voice across the two-way.

  ‘You on channel, Izzy?’

  Tom tilted his head and growled. ‘I know how you feel, mate, but we have to cut him a little slack after the other day,’ she said, giving Tom a reassuring pat.

  Izzy picked up the microphone handpiece. ‘Yeah, Will. What’s up?’

  ‘Hey, I was just wondering how the harvesting was going. What are you up to at the moment?’ his voice crackled back.

  ‘Nothing much,’ she replied evasively. ‘Why?’ This wasn’t sounding good.

  ‘I was going to come over and see if anything needed doing,’ replied Will.

  ‘Uh … you don’t have to do that. Um … everything’s fine, Will. I’ve got it all under control.’ The last thing she needed was Will catching her out and blabbing to her old man, especially now that they were so chummy.

  Izzy slowed down the header as she made her way towards the field bin. Reaching beside her chair, she pulled the hydraulic lever to extend the auger and then lined it up with the small opening in the field bin. She’d started to unload the grain into the bin when she heard Will’s voice again.

  ‘Ah, it looks to me like someone’s telling porkies.’

  What the …? Frantically, she looked around and spotted Will’s ute parked not far from the header. He stood near the open door with the two-way mic in his hand, and a huge stupid grin on his face as if he’d just caught her skinny-dipping.

  Damn it, Izzy thought.

  Muscles rippled in his bronzed arms as he jogged over to the header and hauled himself up the steps, letting himself into the small cab. His tanned face made his teeth look extra white as he smiled, and the stubble along his strong narrow jaw held her attention for just a second too long.

  ‘What’s going on here, eh?’ Izzy could feel his breath as he talked, towering over her in the confined space of the cab. ‘I came over to have a stickybeak at this new contractor Mike said you’d hired, just to make sure he knew what he was doing. Must say I’m surprised. He’s much better looking than I anticipated.’

  ‘Very funny. So you caught me out.’ Izzy rolled her eyes. ‘Why pay someone else when I can do it myself? We couldn’t afford it anyway.’ Quickly she put up her hand. ‘And I’m not taking any more handouts.’ She sighed. ‘Just don’t tell my old man, or I’ll have your guts for garters!’

  Will raised his hand. ‘Scouts honour!’

  ‘Yeah, when were you ever a scout?’ she scoffed. She wondered how trustworthy he was. It was too hard to tell, looking at his cheeky smile. Izzy now wished she had more on than her blue singlet, especially with him looming over her. Why couldn’t he squat down? She resisted the urge to put her hand over the gape of her singlet across her chest, even though he’d be able to see right down it. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he could unnerve her. Suddenly the header began to rock slightly, signalling that the box was just about empty. Will turned and stopped the auger for her.

  ‘Well, what are you doing? Leaving or staying? I have a paddock to strip,’ said Izzy. Tom looked up, as if to mimic the same thoughts.

  ‘I’ll do a boxful with you, seeing as you asked so nicely.’ With that, he moved in a bit and slammed the door behind him. With some manoeuvring he squished his narrow butt between the door of the cab and her chair, seating himself on her esky. Izzy was trying to be more tolerant of Will – she thought she owed him that much. What he’d done yesterday was pretty darn amazing in her books. Izzy hadn’t forgotten how she’d been rooted to the spot, unable to move as she watched her father falling into the flames. She was a little ashamed and wished she could have been as quick as Will.

  ‘Okay then,’ came her reply as he made himself comfortable, although ‘Crap!’ was what she really wanted to say.

  Izzy moved the header forward. Trying hard not to touch Will, she reached across and moved the hydraulic lever that swung the auger back into position. The last thing she needed was him getting any funny ideas – things were awkward enough already.

  Putting the long comb into the crop again, she lined it up with the edge of the remaining wheat heads and watched as the comb munched its way through. Staring straight ahead, she tried to concentrate, but it was fairly difficult when she could feel Will’s eyes on her, assessing her ability. Half a lap later, Will eventually broke the silence between them.

  ‘You know, I can drive for you if you like. Dad’s just finishing the last of ours today.’

  ‘Thanks, but no thanks, Will. Besides, I don’t think you could handle this old girl. She’s not what you’re used to, I’m sure,’ said Izzy, teasing him. ‘A yellow header is more your style. Say a New Holland TC with a forty-foot comb. Would I be right?’ Izzy looked him in the eyes, waiting for a reaction.

  ‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Will said, nodding with a wry smile. ‘Dad loves his New Holland headers. But I’m sure I could still handle this,’ he said, as he tried to shift his numb backside in the narrow cabin.

  ‘Ha,’ laughed Izzy. ‘Mike’s header is pure luxury after our old John Deere. Now that was a header! If it hadn’t gone up in flames, it would have fallen to bits. At least Dad will be able to upgrade for next year now with the insurance money, and especially with the crops doing so well this year.’

  ‘Bill was telling me about it. It’s lucky he never got that bad frost that came through in September. A few in the district lost a fair bit to it.’

  ‘It’s depressing – all your hard work can turn to shit and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it,’ she replied. When farming was your livelihood, you could lose so much from things outside your control like floods, droughts, fire, frost or hail. Farming sure was a hard, stressful way of life. You were always waiting. Waiting for rain or waiting for the wind to stop. It was a game of guessing and more waiting. She sometimes wondered why she longed for it so badly. The need to feel the clean air on her skin. To get up with the sun and follow it through the day till it sets. The thrill of driving for ten minutes and still being on your own land. To know your small community would do anything for you in a heartbeat. It was just in her blood, she guessed.

  ‘How is Bill going, anyway?’ Will said, changing the subject. ‘I’ve been meaning to give him a call.’

  Izzy thought she detected a note of sincerity. Will actually sounded as if he gave a damn about someone. ‘He’s doing okay. They gotta take some skin from his back, I think, and use it for grafts on his legs. It’s gonna be a while before he can come home. Even then, he’s going to have to keep the wounds dressed and clean. Mum said he’s being a tough old brute, but he’s relying on the painkillers at the moment.’ Izzy’s voice almost broke. She was finding it hard to talk about. She worried about her dad constantly.

  Will could almost feel the lump he knew was building in her thro
at. Resting his hand on her leg, he gave it a friendly squeeze. Just a quick one – he didn’t want to push it. He knew she was grateful that he’d pulled Bill out of the fire. It was funny how, at that moment when Bill fell, Will had just run in after him. No second thought, only the adrenaline pumping and the feeling that he wasn’t going to lose another person close to him. He could remember the way he’d almost gone deaf; he couldn’t hear the pumps or the crackling of the fire. His legs had just taken off and carried him into the smoke. He remembered his arms flapping about feeling their way through the smoke, banging into the metal steps and then the soft shoulder of Bill as he lay on the ground. Then he was dragging him out and away from the destruction. He remembered the look of relief on Izzy’s face.

  The emotion he now saw in Izzy’s eyes softened him. Her blue eyes had the slightest hint of tears and looked so large and vulnerable. She nibbled on her bottom lip, trying to keep her composure. Will had an urge to put his hand up to her olive skin, caress her face and run his thumb along her high cheekbone. He liked seeing this side of her, the loving and gentle side that showed her femininity. It made a nice change.

  ‘Try not to worry, kiddo.’ He watched as his words caused her to regain her composure and shut him out. She really was a breed of her own. He had never known another girl like her. ‘I can’t imagine Bill sitting down for too long. He’s like a fart in a bottle.’ Will suppressed a laugh. He could just imagine Bill fighting off the nurses and trying to get out of bed. ‘You can’t keep a good man down and your dad’s an old battler. They broke the mould when they made him.’ He smiled as he spoke.

  Izzy couldn’t help but smile at this either. ‘I’d love to go see him, but it takes nearly half a day to get there and, realistically, I can’t go until harvest is done. I know he’s in good hands and I think I’m needed here more. There’s a lot to do. After harvesting we need the shearers, so I’ll have to get my act into gear.’ Looking back to the rows of straight golden heads, Izzy adjusted the steering wheel slightly.