Redstone Station

by Therese Creed

  ‘Haven’t had a dust storm this thick in years,’ observed Sam. ‘Always reminds me of Judgement Day. This is what it’ll be like for the ones who get left behind.’

  Jeremy made an expression of exaggerated panic at Alice. ‘Struth, that’ll be me!’ he said.

  The dusty air did nothing to help Sam’s chesty cough. As always he didn’t complain, but his quiet listlessness worried Alice. He seemed dull and distant, and Alice knew that during his waking hours he never stopped thinking about her grandmother. They shut up the house as much as possible and Sam stayed inside. The taste of dust was in everyone’s mouth and they had the constant sensation of grit between their teeth. Jeremy and Alice blew brown smudges onto their handkerchiefs and their eyes were red and irritated. Every surface was blanketed with a thin layer of fine chalky dirt.

  On the third day the wind changed and the air gradually became clearer. Alice wiped down all the surfaces inside the house and Jeremy did a hurried job of his cottage. The vehicles, saddles and tools in the shed were all covered in a thick pale layer, which was removed in stages as each item was used over the weeks that followed.

  Then, in late August, winter inflicted its last bitterly cold spell for the year on Redstone. Making the most of the lingering coolness, Alice and Jeremy decided to spend the day fencing. Sam, under the weather again, had agreed to stay home and do some odd jobs around the house. Alice knew he was also planning to duck out and check the calves in Windlass Gully from yesterday’s branding, to make sure they had all made it through the chilly night. Out-of-season calves always did it tough, and the old man had admitted to Alice at breakfast that he was beginning to see the logic of seasonal mating.

  When Alice and Jeremy arrived home late in the afternoon, Alice was quietly concerned to see an empty spot in the shed where her grandfather’s paddock ute should have been parked. While she yarded the weaners, she anxiously listened for the sound of the vehicle returning. It was after five when she finished and checked the clock. Her grandfather never stayed out so late anymore, especially when he was crook. She took the motorbike and let her dogs off the chains again to follow her.

  She found two sets of tracks at the gate into Windlass Gully paddock. Her grandfather had been and gone. From where she’d pulled up at the gate, Alice could see the cattle huddled in the gidgee camp for the night; everything looked in order. On closer inspection, the treadmarks in the dust revealed that instead of going home, he’d headed west, away from the house. She rode in that direction but soon lost his tracks on the hard-packed dirt of the road. As she checked one paddock after another, Alice fought to control her rising panic. By now she’d left the dogs far behind and the sun was going down.

  Finally she spotted the ute, its silver roll bar catching the rays of the setting sun. She’d ridden up to Eagle Tor to get a better vantage point. The ute was parked alongside a stretch of barely stock-proof fence line that her grandfather had been worrying over. While she squinted towards the distant vehicle, the idling motorbike engine spluttered and died. Out of fuel. She threw the bike down in disgust and started to run, her feet pounding the rocky slope as she descended towards where her pa must be.

  She jogged until the ute came into view again and then slowed for a moment to a walk, trying to see her grandfather. In the dying light she spotted a sitting figure, slumped sideways onto a post further along the fence. With a strangled cry she broke back into a run. Well before she reached him, she could see that the life had departed from his worn old body. He looked so small and grey, like a withered scarecrow. His frail arm hung from the fence, hand still grasping the pliers that were partway through a figure-eight tie in the wires. Alice unclenched the pliers and gently prised his cold knobbly fingers from the steel handles. She folded his arms and, kneeling beside him, half lifted his body onto her lap. Then she cradled him like a big rag doll, rocking him and humming a soft croon of agony.

  Jeremy found them there like that an hour later, the headlights from the old ute illuminating the scene with shocking brilliance. He dimmed the lights, left the engine running and walked over slowly.

  ‘C’mon, mate, let’s get you in out of the cold.’

  He gently disentangled the two, then lifted Sam’s limp form and carried it to the ute, placing it carefully into the tray. He took off his own oilskin coat and laid it over the old man’s body. Such a small crumpled heap. Was such a man.

  He walked back to Alice who was still sitting in the same spot, bowed over. He stooped and picked her up as though she were a child, then carried her to the ute. She grasped his shoulders with frozen fingers and buried her face in his neck. He held her for a while, just like that, before lifting her into the passenger seat.

  ‘Where’s Pa?’ It came out as a sob.

  ‘He’s in the tray. You know him, always happy to ride in the back if a lady needs a seat.’

  She nodded. Her face in the darkness frightened him. Her eyes so stricken and huge. He reached over and pulled her close to him as they drove away.

  ‘Poor old bugger.’ Jeremy’s voice was husky. ‘Just like him to pop off without causing anyone any hassle.’

  Chapter 38

  ‘Is this Campbell fellow really a practising solicitor?’ Conrad said into Lara’s ear in a low voice, but still loud enough so that Alice and Jeremy could hear. Alice’s mother and stepfather had made the long trek to Redstone for the second time in the space of a few months, to attend Sam’s funeral. This time, much to Alice’s disappointment, they had left the kids in Brisbane with Conrad’s elderly parents.

  Now they were all sitting in the shabby waiting room of the only solicitor in town, and Conrad was looking around contemptuously.

  ‘He’s not a city toff like your lot, if that’s what you mean,’ Jeremy said genially in answer to Conrad’s question.

  Ignoring him, Conrad continued to address Lara. ‘It just strikes me as bizarre that, having a barrister for a son-in-law, your father didn’t use my services.’

  ‘Shows he didn’t trust ya, eh?’ Jeremy observed.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll dignify that with a response,’ said Conrad.

  ‘Bloody hell, I wasn’t trying to sound dignified, poor dumb ringer like me!’ Jeremy hung his head. Alice elbowed him in the ribs, starting to wonder whether bringing him along had been such a good idea. She’d wanted him there for moral support but she was now thinking that one of the ladies from church might have been better.

  The plump middle-aged woman behind the desk had been listening with her lips pursed, but she took advantage of the brief silence to say, ‘I think you’ll be more than satisfied with Mr Campbell’s standards. He is highly regarded in this town and an excellent boss too.’ She glared at Conrad, then looked back down at the form she was filling out.

  ‘Well, it would be a damn shame if you didn’t think so, Heidi, being his wife ’n’ all,’ Jeremy piped up. ‘And who’s gonna tell you any different in this two-faced town?’ He snorted.

  ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t hesitate to say so, Jeremy O’Donnell, if you thought any different.’ Heidi had developed a red spot at the centre of each cheek and now Jeremy was being inflicted with the glare.

  ‘Thanks for the compliment, Heidi – I mean Ms Campbell. Now, let’s all just settle down. You need to keep up your professional front for these good people.’

  To Alice’s relief, the office door opened and they were ushered in by the jovial Mr Campbell. Alice noticed Lara looking with distaste at his pot belly and the redness of the burst capillaries in his cheeks.

  They all sat in silence after the will was read. It was quite simple: everything had been left to Alice.

  ‘I don’t understand it.’ Lara spoke bitterly. ‘Dad must have changed it after Mum died.’

  ‘They last updated it just after your mother was diagnosed with cancer,’ Fred said gently. ‘The date’s here, next to their signatures.’

  ‘But why? Why would they cut me out?’ Lara’s eyes were full of resentment.

&nb
sp; Alice, who had been sitting there speechless with shock, now cringed as she felt Jeremy beside her prepare to speak.

  ‘Maybe they just thought you were all sorted, down in the city with Conrad here,’ he offered.

  ‘What gives you the authority to comment?’ Conrad said heatedly.

  ‘Yes, what on earth would you know about it?’ Lara nearly spat the words at Jeremy. ‘Just because you’re in with my daughter —’

  ‘Mum!’ Alice interrupted.

  Jeremy let out a low whistle. ‘Jeez. I should be so lucky,’ he said ruefully to himself.

  Lara looked incredulous. ‘Do you really expect me to believe that you two aren’t . . . ?’

  ‘I know, it’s rough on a man,’ Jeremy agreed sadly. ‘But no, I don’t expect you to believe it. Not with your history.’

  There was a brief stunned pause, then everyone began talking at once. Conrad jumped out of his seat and strode across the room towards Jeremy, but Fred Campbell quickly intervened and Conrad allowed himself to be persuaded to sit back down again. Alice felt utterly miserable. Jeremy, on the contrary, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. Finally, a red-faced Mr Campbell managed to restore order.

  Unbelievably, the silence was again broken by Jeremy. ‘Anyone else have a theory?’ he asked conspiratorially, looking around at all their faces.

  ‘We don’t need to hear any more of your base ideas, thank you.’ It was Conrad, still on the warpath.

  But Jeremy was clearly not intimidated. He shrugged. ‘It’s a free country after all. And I’ll tell you what I really think, now you’ve pushed me to it.’

  ‘Please don’t!’ said Alice weakly.

  Jeremy stopped. There was a short pause before Conrad said, ‘Carry on then, let’s have it. I want to hear what this ignorant git has to say. I might need some amusement one day and I’ll be able to think back to this occasion and have a jolly good laugh.’

  ‘Righto, Conman old boy. Since you insist.’ Jeremy cleared his throat importantly. ‘I think Sam and Mrs Day finally twigged. A few crows came home to roost, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Chickens,’ muttered Fred.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘No matter,’ Fred said hurriedly and Jeremy went on.

  ‘Anyway, like I said, the old folks worked out, God bless ’em, that if Lara got Redstone, she’d sell up. They knew Alice lives and breathes the place, and they also knew that knowing that wouldn’t stop Lara from cashing it in first chance she got. ’Cause she’s never cared two hoots for Ali or lifted a bloody finger to help her in any way.’

  There was another stunned silence. Then Alice decided it was time to speak. ‘Redstone was your home just as much as it is mine, Mum. I think it’s only fair that you should have a share in it. Just as long as you let me stay there to run it.’

  ‘Yes, I think we should contest the will,’ Conrad agreed heartily.

  Jeremy made a noise of disgust in his throat. ‘Course you do, Conman.’

  ‘You’ve said enough, Jeremy,’ Fred warned.

  For a moment no one spoke, then Lara said, ‘No. We’ll respect their wishes. Leave it the way it is.’

  ‘Good girl!’ Fred clasped his hands and beamed at Lara but she scowled and looked away.

  ‘Now, darling, we shouldn’t rush into anything.’ Conrad spoke in his most soothing voice. ‘We need some time to think it over.’

  ‘No, Conrad,’ said Lara again, her tone slightly threatening. ‘It’s decided. Discussion over.’ She stood up and walked over to where Alice was perched on the edge of her chair. She gave her daughter an awkward hug and a kiss on top of her head. ‘I hope you will be happy at Redstone, Alice. I never was. They must have known that.’

  Alice took Lara’s hand and looked up into her face. ‘Thanks, Mum.’

  Chapter 39

  The dust that had settled over the land like a grey-brown blanket in the dust storm before Sam’s passing remained largely undisturbed for many weeks. The erratic breezes that came during September weren’t enough to dislodge the dull gritty layer that had cemented itself to the light dew on the leaves and grass of Redstone.

  The last decent rain had been in early April, but the grass had hung on well, thanks to the good moisture that had remained in the ground from summer’s drenching. But now, at last, the pasture began to look spent and parched and the dust coating did nothing to improve the effect. The condition of the cows was also beginning to slip, and Alice and Jeremy had resurrected the molasses truck.

  Since her grandfather’s death, Alice had thrown herself into her work with unrelenting determination. It seemed to Jeremy that she was continually moving, always on her way to the next job or preoccupied. When she sat, it was only to analyse lists of important figures. Her smoko breaks were more often than not held in front of the computer. This was hard on Jeremy, who was an essentially social being. He instinctively understood that she’d withdrawn into an inner world of grief and he tried repeatedly to draw her into conversation. But she continued to shut him out.

  In an attempt to find some relief from the sombre atmosphere at Redstone, he started making more regular weekend trips to town again. However, he spent most of the time away thinking of Alice, all alone back at the station. He tried talking horses and dogs with her, and on one occasion he desperately resorted to Jane Austen. But even this topic failed to raise the slightest hint of a spark in Alice’s solemn dark eyes. Next Jeremy turned to his old standby of taunting and teasing, but Alice reacted only with a patient tolerance that made him feel like a naughty schoolboy.

  Just when Jeremy thought things couldn’t get any grimmer, Alice got a call from the bank. The Redstone loan had come up for review. The new manager, Carl Trent, said he needed to arrange a meeting with her to discuss the future of the property. He confirmed with Alice that she’d taken up the station’s management since her grandfather’s death, and then checked her age and years of experience. After indicating that the bank had some new concerns about the size of the debt, he fixed a date for a visit the following week.

  Alice’s scones weren’t nearly as good as her grandmother’s and she’d made them at dawn, so they were quite heavy and cold by the time Carl Trent arrived. He was younger and more serious than his predecessor, Phillip Kift, and to Alice’s disappointment he insisted on meeting with her in private; despite Jeremy’s tendency to be inappropriate, Alice would have drawn strength from his presence.

  The anxiety she’d been suffering over the prospect of the visit had taken its toll, she looked tired and gaunt and she was unable to put on a show of confidence. Carl seemed to sense her uncertainty, and commented, not unkindly, on how alone she was in the world. Looking at the figures, he pointed out the way they’d been stretched by Kift in order to maintain the loan. Even with Alice’s grandparents at the helm, Redstone had barely been able to meet the repayments. He went on to suggest that, considering the circumstances, the only realistic course of action for Alice was to put the property on the market. The bright side, or so he said, was that even after the debt was cleared she’d walk away from the place a very wealthy young woman.

  Alice quietly informed him that she had no intention of selling and assured him she’d continue to meet the repayments and oversee the improvements. ‘Mr Kift was confident that with all the changes we are making here, Redstone will become profitable again in the future,’ she explained. ‘The innovations he approved were mostly mine. They are costing money now, but it won’t be long before they start to pay off.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Trent said doubtfully. ‘But it may reach the point where the decision is taken out of your hands, Alice. I’m certain that in a short time you’ll come around to my way of thinking. A station of this size is an enormous concern for someone like you to handle alone.’ He drained his cup before adding, ‘It’s not what I’d call feasible.’

  Then, assuring her that he’d be in touch again soon, the bank manager departed. He had barely touched his scone.

  Alice found that she co
uldn’t talk to Jeremy about the new problem with the bank. His ranting and raving over the loan would only make the threat seem more real. Instead she kept it to herself and became even more withdrawn and uncommunicative. She was aware that he was worried about her and becoming daily more frustrated by her silence. She also knew how dependent on his company she’d become, but somehow she couldn’t find the words or opportunity to tell him.

  One day in early November, the pair were driving out to Hazelbrae paddock to ‘pull’ a windmill that had been failing to pump properly for some months. They took a detour on the way to check a troublesome new solar bore in Summerlea. In June this large paddock had been divided into three smaller paddocks. Unfortunately, the only watering point in Upper Summerlea was proving to be less than reliable.

  With the bore in sight, Alice took a sip from her water bottle, only to discover that Jeremy had stealthily filled it with gin that morning. He looked sideways at her as he drove, obviously hoping for a reaction, but after a small splutter she merely emptied it out the window without saying a word. Jeremy turned away and glared at the track ahead.

  Shortly afterwards they arrived at the trough. The tank’s overflow pipe was dripping, which meant the bore was currently working well. There was no need to stop, but Jeremy had clearly lost his temper. He slammed on the brakes, got out and walked around to Alice’s door. After wrenching it open, he grabbed her arms and pulled her out of the vehicle. Looking up in bewildered surprise she met his stormy frown. She quickly looked away, twisting her wrists free of his grip. But Jeremy grabbed her again, this time by the shoulders, and shook her until she looked him in the eye.