The two men stood up, thanked the Days for their hospitality and departed. From the window, Olive watched them drive away, and shook her head. More worry. Just what Sam needed.
Early the next morning, Sam took the paperwork into town to the local solicitor, Fred Campbell.
Fed up with the pace of city life, Fred had come to the area ten years before, bringing his family and business with him, and was now a valued member of the little community and a trusted source of advice. The old cattleman sat silently sipping tea while the portly solicitor perused the fourteen pages of fine print. Towards the end, Fred found what he was looking for.
‘Ah yes.’ He nodded slowly, then continued to read until the end. At this point he sat back and took off his glasses to look at Sam. ‘Most of this is harmless waffle. But here, I’ve found the sting.’ Fred indicated a small paragraph on page twelve. ‘By signing this you would be giving the company unlimited access to Redstone without prior notification to you for a period of nine months from the date of the signature. Don’t sign. You’re not legally obliged to, and without this they’ll be required to notify you each time they enter your property if they want to return for follow-up work.’
Sam’s eyes were wide as he listened. ‘Struth, Fred, I’m glad I came to you.’
‘I would also suggest insisting that they obtain a council certificate of proof that any machinery and vehicles they bring onto your place have been thoroughly cleaned of seeds and foreign soils. It’s not much, but it’s just a little something that you’re legally entitled to do. Making it slightly more difficult for them will show them that you’re not a pushover.’
‘I will certainly do that,’ said Sam, getting up and shaking hands with the lawyer. ‘Many thanks for your valuable advice, Fred. I’ll be bringing you an esky of meat on Sunday.’
‘Any time, Sam. Let me know what happens, eh? And refer them to me if they keep pestering you to sign.’
During the next few weeks, two separate employees of the mining company were sent to collect the signed documentation. Both eventually left empty-handed. Finally, Fred Campbell contacted the Australian head of the company in Sydney with a complaint, only to be told that the firm had been unaware of the situation.
At last, once the company had obtained council certificates, a small fleet of foreign machinery marched across the face of Redstone. There were two utes, a backhoe, and a large drilling rig pulling a dog trailer. The small gang of men set about boring deep holes at strategic points across the property, and digging shallow pits to contain the water that was extracted from the holes. Jeremy and Alice were required to open gates and move cattle in the path of the drilling crew.
Sam was withdrawn and surly for the six days of the invasion. When at last the geologists declared themselves satisfied with the samples they had obtained, it was with a sense of great relief that all the Redstoners watched the rig departing. In their wake, though, they left a lingering anxiety. Despite all Jeremy’s best efforts at inducing them to talk, the drilling crew had been cagey about what they were finding and a fortnight later there was still no word from the coal company. Sam telephoned Lionel Schuster.
The man greeted him urbanely. ‘Ah, Mr Day, you’ll be pleased to know we’re not planning any further drilling in your region for the time being. The coal was very “dirty” – in other words, low grade. It’s more suitable for sequestration than mining. Also, the site is too remote to be of any practical interest to us in the short term.’
‘The “site” you’re talking about is our home and livelihood.’ Sam’s voice was full of quiet fury. ‘My family have worked this land for over a century, Mr Schuster. The Day family settled this spot. This bit of soil turns off some of the best-quality bullocks in the country. Make for better eating than your blooming black gold. You fellas eat beef, do you?’
‘Yes, well, as I said, we have no further interest in the property for now. We’ll be in touch if anything changes.’
‘That’s bloody comforting, that is,’ Sam said vehemently. ‘We have plans for this place, Mr Schuster. Alice has a list of new developments longer than your arm. So do we go ahead, busting a gut trying to improve this place, or are you fellas going to pull the rug out from under us a few years down the track?’
Schuster sighed patiently. ‘There is absolutely no cause for panic. We have numerous other sites more attractive to us for development at the present time.’
‘Some other poor bugger has been given his walking ticket then. I can only hope that by the time you’re ready to dig us up, Australia might’ve woken up to the fact that they aren’t making any more food-producing land. By then, so much of it will have been sold off to foreign investors that a few people might be starting to go hungry. Maybe then they’ll back off and let the few mugs that have stuck at this game alone.’ With that, Sam hung up.
That night, when Sam went to bed, he lay awake thinking of the ‘chosen ones’, all the farmers who were unfortunate enough to be situated over ‘suitable sites’. The old man’s pillow was damp with angry tears when at last he drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 15
It was Sunday morning and Jeremy had woken up clear-headed. It was all wrong. He should have been feeling like death warmed up after a night of partying. And so he would have been if it wasn’t for that new bugger of a senior constable.
The long-serving town policeman, Constable Aaron Hill, had recently moved away. A fair-minded and friendly middle-aged officer, Aaron had known when to bend the rules to common sense. His replacement was one Senior Constable Justin Glover, a tall stern man in his late twenties and a stickler for the rules. He had no interest in gaining friends in the town, and Jeremy reckoned he was using his remote placement merely as a stepping stone to greater glory.
Within his first fortnight, Glover had had Jed O’Donnell earmarked. He easily identified Jeremy’s weekend drinking routine and habit of heading back to Redstone early in the morning, once he’d sobered up. It wasn’t long before Jeremy had lost his driver’s licence for being slightly over the limit, three times in a row. He knew Senior Constable Glover would be on the lookout to catch him driving again, so things were looking grim.
Olive was clearly pleased; Jeremy supposed she was happy to have him confined to Redstone and safe from the evils of town. She lectured him about the ‘wholesome’ forms of entertainment that had been popular when she was a girl. Many homesteads still had the remains of makeshift tennis courts, usually consisting of a fenced rectangle with a playing surface of crushed termite mound. These days, the Redstone tennis court was used as a nursery for the poddy calves, the old netting fence keeping them safe from dingoes. Olive also told him how the young men of her day had ridden their horses for hours, sometimes days, to attend dances at the local halls. Then there were Sunday cricket matches, where batters and fielders ranged in age from the very young to the very old. Some of the high-society ladies had even tried to hold English-style garden parties, complete with bone china cups and saucers and polished silver cutlery.
‘Jeez, I wish I was around when you were a girl, Mrs Day,’ Jeremy had responded cheekily.
For a few weeks Jeremy hadn’t minded the change to his routine. He certainly didn’t miss the start-of-the-week disease. But everyone seemed to be occupied on weekends except for himself. Alice was always busy poring over the books in the office, or handling her animals. Sometimes he helped her work the weaners, but she and her dogs seemed to have some sort of telepathy, to the point where he and Ace often felt they were intruding.
Sam had adopted the habit of resting more on weekends, dozing at the table or stretched out in the old squatter’s chair on the veranda; Jeremy didn’t like to wake him. And, of course, Olive was always busy with some consuming task, doing the books, cleaning, sewing or cooking.
To while away the time, Jeremy began to do some solitary weekend fencing. He also tinkered with the machines in the shed, and even tried doing the morning milking for Olive on Saturdays and Sundays. But the
house cow always seemed miffed at the sight of him and never let her milk down properly. Sometimes he went hunting for pigs and other vermin, but these occasions lacked the thrill of his wild pig-chasing weekends with beer-drinking friends. He also began to miss the attention of his girls, his adoring fans who were always so easily impressed.
This Sunday, as he lay there thinking of the day ahead and listening to Alice hosing the windscreen of the ‘town car’ in preparation for the weekly pilgrimage to church, he came to a decision. He jumped out of bed and pulled on some jeans and a shirt. He’d catch a ride to town. There was bound to be someone still about.
Alice drove and Sam sat in the back with Jeremy. Sitting in the front passenger seat, Olive worked on her crochet, and sniffed with disapproval when Jeremy asked to be dropped off at the pub.
‘Come in and get me when you’re ready, Alice,’ he called happily over his shoulder as he headed for the dilapidated building on the main street.
He swung the heavy door open wide. The Swiss cowbell on the lintel announcing his arrival, he walked in like a conquering hero returning from a crusade, and was greeted as such by a mob of hung-over youths who were partaking in the hair of the dog. It was their usual Sunday morning service, and Jed hadn’t been keeping the Sabbath. A few of them cheered and he received several congratulatory slaps on the back.
In no time he was seated on his usual barstool with four shouted drinks lined up in front of him. He gulped down two immediately, trying not to notice how dingy the smoky room looked to him now. The place was a dive.
Jeremy sat for over half an hour listening to his mates talk and doing his best to join in. Somehow their usual mindless chatter didn’t interest him today. He downed another drink. Nothing worse than being sober in a mob of drunk people.
‘Where’s Hammerhead?’ he asked, looking around for old Martin Hammerli, the Swiss publican. The sight of the calm old man and his quizzical smile was always reassuring. Then he remembered. ‘What am I thinking? He never works Sundays.’
The most attractive of the girls, Brandi Hogan, soon began trying to get his attention by kissing the back of his neck and running her fingers through his hair. When this failed, she used the rung of the barstool like a stirrup to mount him. Straddling his lap and facing him, she engulfed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Then she kissed his forehead, presenting him with her overflowing cleavage.
Then Brandi leaned back unsteadily and put one hand on Jeremy’s cheek. The other pressed a cold can onto the nape of his neck. She giggled as he half caught her, preventing the backwards topple. Lurching back towards him, she breathed hot rum and smoke into his face and he looked at the caked and smeared make-up that obscured her naturally pretty features. Her almond-shaped blue eyes were bloodshot. She screeched and wobbled again, then, suddenly serious, looked into his eyes seductively.
‘I’ve missed you, Jeddy.’
Unable to honestly return the sentiment, he said evasively, ‘Yeah, it’s a dry old camp out at Redstone.’
All the company laughed excessively at his weak jest.
Brandi tossed her long blonde hair and threw back her head, taking a large slurp of her drink. Then, the alcohol still in her mouth, she kissed Jeremy, prising his lips apart with her tongue so that some of it spurted into his mouth and dribbled down his chin. They all cheered.
‘King Jed’s back!’ announced Wombat, triumphantly, raising a beer with his chubby sunburnt hand.
Jeremy half stood, helping Brandi back onto her feet, then bowed to his fans.
‘What, you and Brandi leaving already?’ Glen asked in mock outrage.
‘Don’t be too tough on him, mate. I reckon he’s been through a bit of a drought out there.’ It was Spook, one of Jeremy’s boarding school mates. ‘Only two geriatrics and that half-black piece.’
There was more laughter, but for once Jeremy was lost for words. The ridiculous irony of it took his breath away – these fools were mocking someone like Alice.
‘Who says our Jed hasn’t been getting some?’ Nev piped up from where he was sitting at the far end of the bar. ‘That Alice’s pretty hot for a Murri chick.’ Melissa and Brandi tittered.
‘Don’t get me wrong, mate,’ grinned Spook. ‘I wouldn’t turn her down.’
Jeremy remained silent so Spook tried again. ‘But Jed could have every girl in town if he wanted, I reckon.’
‘Already has, hasn’t he?’ It was Max, another rodeo clown; Jeremy knew Max resented the way he always stole the show.
‘All the good sorts, at least.’ Wombat elbowed Brandi in the ribs. Brandi laughed along with all the others, giving Wombat a special flirty smile.
Then Max spoke again. ‘You’re not saying much, Jed. Look at his face. I reckon he’s had her! Needed a bit of spice in your life, eh, Jed?’ Jeremy could see Max was thoroughly enjoying himself now.
They all roared with laughter again, and Jeremy did his best to smile along with them, but he found he was suddenly nauseous. He sat back down again, trying to look unperturbed. This was all Alice’s fault, he told himself. He couldn’t even enjoy himself out with his mates anymore. And he was disgusted with himself for not having the guts to defend her – he, Jeremy O’Donnell, the bloke who feared nobody, who said whatever he liked. Jed the fearless was being gutless.
His train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the cowbell over the pub door and there was Alice’s silhouette, the daylight flooding in around her little frame. She peered into the gloom, blinking at the sudden contrast.
‘Speak of the devil! Hey, Jed, it’s your boss!’ Max really was in fine form today.
‘How was church?’ Melissa addressed Alice, giggling.
‘Have your ears been burning, Alice?’ Brandi asked.
‘Can’t tell by looking, she’s pretty dark all over!’ Max roared at his own joke.
‘Can’t see anything properly anyway in this dim pisshole.’ Jeremy’s voice was testy.
Alice looked unruffled. She stepped lightly inside and the heavy door banged shut behind her, the cowbell clanging wildly.
‘Come and join us for a drink,’ Melissa said invitingly. Jeremy saw Brandi run her eyes over the newcomer.
Alice spoke with quiet self-assurance. ‘I just came to tell Jeremy that we’re heading home now.’
‘That’s my summons!’ Jeremy drained his glass and stood up.
Brandi clung to his arm like a limpet. ‘Don’t go, Jeddy! Mel and me will drive you back this arv.’
‘Thanks for the offer, Brand, but it’s two hours each way.’
‘We feel like a drive, don’t we, Mel? Anyway, there’s gotta be somewhere out there where we can crash for the night.’
‘Yeah, in Jed’s bed!’ Spook exclaimed.
They all laughed, except for Brandi, who looked close to tears, and Alice, who was looking out the window.
‘Afraid not, Brand. Against house rules.’ Jeremy pried her fingers off his arm.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’ Brandi screeched.
Wombat was sympathetic. ‘How much longer do you reckon you’ll stick it out?’
‘Dunno, mate. Might see you fellas at the rodeo. If not before.’
There was a chorus of raucous goodbyes and another busty embrace from Brandi. As he walked towards Alice, Jeremy was aware that all eyes were on them. He opened the door for her, then stood aside to let her pass through, before following behind her. It was the least he could do.
Chapter 16
Alice and Jeremy were bumping through the paddock on Bald Hill, looking for a bull they had treated some weeks ago for tail rot. At the time they had cut off his tail well above the infected section. Since then, the offended creature seemed to have disappeared, and they were concerned about whether the infection had spread up into his spine.
As they drove, Alice told Jeremy that her school friend Bonnie was coming to Redstone for a long-overdue visit; she promised him that this event would be certain to liven everyone up a little. In former years, the
extroverted and slightly eccentric Bonnie had been a regular presence at Redstone. She’d made a tradition of spending a large part of every school holiday at the homestead. During these trips to Redstone, Bonnie had been patiently tolerated by Olive and Sam for Alice’s sake. However, during Alice’s ag college years, Bonnie hadn’t come to stay, and the two old Days had suddenly realised how much they had come to take her visits for granted. Sam even went so far as to say that he missed the crazy girl.
When Alice arrived home from college they had all believed that a visit from Bonnie would be imminent. Unlike Alice, Bonnie had stayed on at boarding school until year twelve and was now launching herself into a course in social work. In true Bonnie style, she’d also committed herself to hours of volunteer work with drug-addicted youths, and as a result she hadn’t been able to get away until June.
Now, at last, the long-awaited arrival of Bonnie was on the cards. When Alice told Jeremy, he was immensely pleased. ‘A young single bird rocking up at Redstone? Best news I’ve heard all year! You never let on to me whether she’s a good sort?’
‘Bonnie is the best and most beautiful person you could ever meet.’ Alice answered him without taking her eyes off the rough cattle pad along which they were driving.
‘This is sounding better by the minute.’ In celebration, Jeremy began to whistle ‘Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush’, then paused suddenly, an idea occurring to him. ‘Hang on a tick, she’s not that hefty red-headed thing I saw in town with you a few years back?’
‘Bonnie has red hair.’ Alice took a moment to eye him coldly. ‘But she’s certainly not fat.’
‘Not fat, no, but if I remember right, she was built like a brick sh—’
‘Jeremy!’ Alice interrupted. ‘I won’t have you criticising Bonnie. And I’m amazed that someone as intelligent as you insists on placing so much importance on what people look like.’
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