Matai Valley Magic

by Mary Moore

  As they went out to the car Mr. Alexander called to Brett, 'How about coming with us?'

  Brett, who had been on his way to the woolshed, retraced his steps. 'You've had a sudden change of heart. Early this week you were adamant that I wasn't allowed to go with you. Now I'm invited. Don't tell me that Fern's flattering attention is beginning to flag?'

  Mr. Alexander slammed his door shut. 'If that's how you feel you can stay home. There's no need to be insulting. Drive on, Fern.'

  Fern did so, and felt her heart lift. She was right, Brett had no part or knowledge of the old man's scheme. The astonish­ment on his face when invited to join them was genuine, and genuine also was the quick opportunity taken to say some­thing detrimental about her. Well, that was a relief.

  'I'll show you the place where the biggest manhunt in the Dominion's history took place, then we'll go on up to the swing-bridge over the Gorge.'

  Fern was quite happy driving, and followed directions until Mr. Alexander indicated that she should park in front of the Kowhiterangi Hall.

  'See across the road there, Fern, a neat tidy farm, a bit of a hedge and a square of cement - that's all the visible remains of a house, farm buildings belonging to a man named Stan Graham. He was a fantastic shot and knew the hills and bush around here as well as he knew his own farm, and was fanatical about his physical fitness. It was in 1941 -yes, October '41, that he took his gun and shot four police-men and a chap Ridley who was over at the School. Ridley qas Chief Agricultural Instructor for the Canterbury Edu­cation Board.'

  'Why did he do it? Do you know?' Fern demanded.

  'He became mentally unbalanced. Years before the shooting he did several peculiar things, and in the months prior to the shooting he began to believe there was a conspiracy against him. His pedigree bull died and he blamed his neighbour . Anyone who didn't believe his stories became an enemy too. Then he started threatening people with a gun, and that's how the police came into it. After complaints were laid against Graham, Constable Best, who was stationed at Kaniere , and who, by the way, was one of the most popular policemen the district had ever known, came out to see Stan. He tried to reason with him, but was ordered off with a Winchester ...'

  'What did he do then?'

  'He went to Hokitika to report to his senior officer, and then those two plus two constables went out to interview Graham. When they arrived he was quite rational, so the police went to see his neighbours to clear up the point about the poisoned cattle. The sergeant was satisfied that Graham was dangerous, so he took his party back to the farm, to confiscate the guns. That must have been the final straw, them wanting to take his guns, so he shot them all, including Ridley, who had come over to see what all the shooting was about.'

  'But did he get caught?'

  'Oh, yes, they got him all right, but not before he'd shot to death two local Home Guardsmen. For, straight after the first shooting, he packed food, guns and ammunition, and cleared for the hills. For thirteen days he eluded the police, the Army, the Home Guard and local farmers, but then he had all the advantages. He was unknown to most of the hunters, he knew every inch of the country, and he was a first-rate bushman, and a deadly shot. It was dangerous work trying to hunt him down, and it took a while to get all the helpers organized into a co- ordinated unit. Graham came and went in the darkness, and even though he was wounded twice during those days, through the shoulder and through the hand; both turned badly septic - so he must have suffered torment - but he was carrying two fully loaded guns when they shot him down. He was a tough man.'

  Fern said, 'It seems funny I've never heard about it before.'

  Mr. Alexander replied, 'Well, don't forget it happened during the war, and before you were born, and people don't talk about it much, preferring to forget it happened. All sorts of myths and stories sprang up afterwards, some even trying to make a hero out of him, sort of one man pitting himself against organized society, but he wasn't that, he was deranged and a killer.

  'They even say Lord Haw-Haw from Germany an­nounced that a cable had been sent to Graham saying, "You hold the South Island. Hitler sending another man to hold the North." I suppose it sounds funny, but to people liv­ing here at the time, there wasn't much humour in the situ­ation.'

  'Sounds a bit like Ned Kelly, or Jesse James,’ Fern suggested.

  'Maybe, but let's drive on to the Gorge now. I'll sit in the car while you climb the bush track to the swing-bridge. It's not far, and the colour of the water sixty feet below the bridge defies description.'

  On Sunday Fern went to church with the family, and they were joined by Smithy. Brett drove and the three women sat

  in the back. Fern, being on the opposite side of the car to Brett, for the first time studied him objectively. He had a good profile, a strong face; add to that his thick dark hair and neat sideburns, and she had to admit that he wasn't all that unattractive ... all right then, he was attractive ... but definitely not her type. Fern wore the tunic top of her brown crimplene trouser suit, and highly polished boots on her slim legs. She had had to reduce the bandage to get them on, but it wouldn't hurt for one hour. With her hair caught back with a brown chiffon scarf, she had presented herself for Kirsty's inspec­tion before leaving. The tunic was very mini indeed, and Fern felt Kirsty wavering between 'indecent' and 'neat and tidy', and was quite elated when 'Neat and tidy' prevailed, If she stayed long enough she might get Kirsty into a mini, for maybe - no, she wouldn't. Kirsty looked every inch a lady

  in her midi-length navy blue dress, with a froth of lace at the

  neck. Fern wouldn't like to change her.

  The week passed very quickly. Fern was busy learning to work in the milking shed. She now rose at five and enjoyed the hour and a half with Ross and Robbie. Robbie was a real nut, always doing the wrong thing. The comical grin he wore when bawled out by Ross amused Fern, but only added to Ross's rage.

  On Thursday morning as she was going home from the cowshed, Brett caught up with her. 'Can I have a word with you, Fern?'

  'Sure,' Fern answered. She was in a happy mood this morning, and Brett's request had been unusually politely spoken ... that is, for him.

  He did look a bit diffident, which was also unusual, being normally so sure of himself that it verged on actual arro­gance. 'Please put the milk billy down. This will take a few minutes.'

  Fern did as she was asked and waited.

  'You're supposed to be leaving tomorrow?'

  'Not supposed to be leaving, I am leaving tomorrow,' Fern said flatly.

  'Would you reconsider your decision? I would like you to stay on for a while, if it doesn't interrupt your plans too much.'

  'Why?' Fern asked suspiciously.

  'I know I've got a neck asking you for a favour , Fern, but I have to ask.' He was embarrassed.

  'Why?' Fern was determined to be unhelpful. 'Don't tell me you can't do without my charming company?'

  'I could do very nicely without you. Whoops - sorry, that wasn't very diplomatic. I'll come straight out with it. My uncle has taken a great fancy to you. He hasn't long to live. Since you've been here it's as if he'd found a new lease of life. I know it's temporary, but I would do a lot to keep him happy, if only for another couple of weeks. Then there's Kirsty. She's devoted to the old devil, and she's been feeling the strain of these past few months a great deal. She flatly refused to let me get her help in the house, not even Smithy for an hour a day, and yet she quite likes Smithy. But she actually seems to enjoy sharing her work with you.'

  'Incredible! Fancy anyone enjoying being with me!' Fern snapped.

  'Well, will you stay for their sakes?'

  'Not for yours? Oh, I am disappointed!' Fern teased wickedly.

  'Yes, in a way for me, because if they improve because you're here, it's all I want.'

  Fern suddenly relented. It must be hard for him to beg a favour from her. 'Very well. Nobody is going to be waiting for me anywhere, so I might as well be here. If it comes down to tintacks, I've grown rather fon
d of Mr. Alexander and Kirsty myself. I'll stay another two weeks.'

  'Thank you very much. I'll make it worth your while,' Brett said gratefully.

  Fern bent down and picked up the billy . She was so angry she could hardly speak. 'You mean money, I presume?'

  Brett, walking beside her, was unaware of the storm he had unwittingly stirred up. 'Yes, of course. You said you take odd jobs here and there. Well, I'd be happy to put you on the payroll.'

  'How much?' Fern snapped.

  He looked at her in surprise. 'I don't mind how much, just as long as you'll stay. Say a hundred dollars?'

  'Say three hundred,' Fern hissed. 'What price do you put on the comfort of your family?'

  Shocked, Brett stopped. 'Why, you cheap little chippie ... well, not cheap! Lord, I'd love Uncle to see his pet hippie putting on the squeeze!'

  Fern's normally brown eyes were nearly a black-brown. 'And as you don't trust me an inch, and I don't trust you, I'll have it in advance, today.'

  'You can damn well have a cheque right now!' Brett stalked ahead of her.

  By the time she had put the billy on the table and had a wash, he was waiting for her, cheque in hand. He thrust it out. Fern took it and examined it carefully, while Kirsty watched the two of them in surprise.

  Fern looked him straight in the eye. 'I guess it won't bounce.'

  'You sweet little ...' He stopped himself by sheer will­power. 'It will be honoured at the bank.'

  Fern took the cheque in both hands, and carefully ripped it into tiny shreds, then threw them in the incinerator. 'I don't take pay for helping my friends. To me, friendship is priceless. How dare you offer me money?' The tears spilled over. 'Don't keep breakfast for me, Kirsty, I've lost my appetite. I'm going for a ride on Gypsy.'

  Fern rode along the ridge in front of the house, then gal­loped along the farm road to the creek at the back of the farm. She lay on the bank and cried her heart out. This must be the 'blues' that the staff nurse had warned her about. She just felt terrible and didn't know why. When she was sure Brett would have left the house she cantered home, and let Gypsy go, glad that she had found a lump of sugar in her pocket.

  She turned around to go into the house, and there was Brett standing directly in front of her. She went white and moved to pass him.

  'No, you don't.' His hands gripped her shoulders. 'You'll stay here while I apologize.'

  'To hell with your apologies!'

  'Fern, listen to me.' He spoke forcefully. 'I'm deeply sorry that I offended you. It was quite unintentional, and not meant to insult you. I was a crass idiot.'

  'And damned stupid to boot!'

  'I agree. Insensitive and stupid. Will you accept my sin­cere apology?'

  Fern sighed wearily. 'Yes.'

  His hands dropped from her shoulders. 'I'm glad. You're a strange girl, Fern. I've never met anyone quite like you.'

  'I'll buy that, there isn't anyone quite like me.' It was a feeble attempt at a joke to show that the quarrel was over.

  He smiled at her. 'Generous, too. You will stay?'

  Fern felt her colour rise at the compliment. 'Yes, I said I would. I'll go inside now. Too much drama on an empty stomach isn't good for one.'

  She was conscious of his eyes watching her until she en­tered the house.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  AS Fern entered the roomy kitchen Kirsty put her rejected meal on the table. 'Eat it!' she was ordered brusquely. 'I've had enough trouble with Brett. I'm not here to cook meals that are not eaten. I'm thinking you two should spend some

  time in a country where people are starving. It would give you some appreciation of good food.'

  Fern set to the meal with a will. The ride had given her a rare appetite, and strangely she felt much happier than she had done when she had been up at the far creek.

  'What about Mr. Alexander's breakfast?' she asked.

  'Are you thinking that I would let him starve while you two are gallivanting over the countryside?'

  Fern saw that Kirsty had also been badly upset by the performance in the kitchen. Perhaps she was still worried. 'I'm sorry about this morning, Kirsty. I misunderstood Brett, and thought he'd been rude to me. He met me when I came back from my ride, and apologized. It's all fixed up now.'

  Kirsty's face relaxed, and she smiled, just a little. 'I'm glad; Brett apologized? I'm thinking that must have been a new experience for him.'

  Fern laughed with her. 'Now what can I do? The polishing?'

  'No, I've got an important task for you. One of my hens is laying away from the henhouse. I'm fairly sure her nest is in the barn, but I can't find it. There are quite a few bales left over from the winter feeding, and each time I go in the wretched bird sets up such a clamour and squawking that I don't know where she's appeared from. Now if you go over and crawl on top of the haybales and be very quiet, you'll find what I'm missing, maybe. It will be a long wait, perhaps.'

  Fern grinned, 'I've always wanted to be a private eye, now I have my chance! I'll stalk her with all the stealth of a professional shadower .'.

  'Just lie still and quiet. That's all that's required, but no doubt that will be hard on such a restless body as your­self .'

  Fern went over to the barn and climbed to the top of a stack of bales. It was cool and dark out of the sun, in this high, spacious barn, and Fern lay full length so that she could see Kirsty's wandering chook when she appeared, yet would not be seen herself.

  She had been there quite a long time when Brett and Mr. Alexander walked in. She did not say anything because she thought Kirsty would have told the old man what she was doing, and as she didn't know from which direction the hen would come she didn't want to scare it off. To her dismay she saw Mr. Alexander take a seat on a box by the doorway in the sunshine. She wished they'd get going, or they'd make her job impossible. It wasn't until they had been talking a while together that she realized she was eavesdropping on a very confidential conversation, and by then it was too late to move.

  'It was hard. I don't think you young ones have any con­ception of the sheer physical hard grind that farming was in those years. No tractors, all the work done by horses, no front end loader and trailer, just pick and shovel, no insec­ticide to kill the gorse, but a grubber and an aching back; that, my boy, is the way your father and I cleared this land.' He waved his hand impatiently as Brett went to speak.

  ‘I know you've heard this all before, time and again, but listen now. You know I've a short time left, and it will be all your's , and I'm well pleased that it should be so. It's always made me proud to have you with me, and to know what your father and I sweated and worked for isn't going to be lost. But when you get to my age, who are you going to pass it on j to? You're twenty- nine, most of the boys you grew up with are married and have children about them. Are you going to live single all your life?'

  Brett squatted down beside his uncle. 'Look, we've been over this before. I'll marry when I'm ready and not before.'

  'Have you anyone in mind?'

  'No.'

  'Are you still fretting about that silly boy-girl affair you had with Lisa?'

  Fern heard the weariness in Brett's voice. 'You know I'm not.'

  Mr. Alexander relentlessly pursued his goal. 'She's a widow now. If she's the only one for you ,I wouldn't stand in your way. She would be welcome here with her children.'

  There was pain and anger in Brett's response. 'Lay off, can't you. It was more than a boy-girl affair, as you call it, and you damned well know it. I loved Lisa for ten years, I trusted her, I thought I knew her as well as I knew myself. Do you think I'd have her back again? I'm not stupid. Once mist is gone, there can be no question of love.'

  'Well then, marry Fern.'

  Fern gave a startled gasp.

  Brett shouted, 'Now I know you must be mad! Why should I want to marry Fern? We've nothing in common.'

  'Does that matter? You say you'll marry some day. You're getting on. There's no one in the district to suit you. You can't have Lisa,
or don't want her. Then why not Fern?'

  'Because, for one thing, she wouldn't have me.'

  Mr. Alexander snorted impatiently. 'How do you know she wouldn't have you? You haven't asked her, have you? You haven't even been decent to her. If you set out to win Fern, I'm sure you'd succeed.'

  'But I don't want to. It's as simple as that, get it. I don't know one reason that would make me want to marry her, or anyone else, for that matter.'

  'That's the whole point of this argument. It doesn't matter to you which girl you marry, so why not Fern? I want to see you married before I go. I won't put it more strongly than that. And if you do choose Fern, I'd be very happy, and somehow I think you would be too.'

  Brett stood up and stretched. 'What makes you say that?'

  'Because I know Fern, I know her a lot better than she thinks I do. She's like your own mother in character. If you managed to win her love, you'd have a wife in a thousand. She's a fine girl, and will grow into a fine woman. She has integrity, and a loving heart, and if you don't take up the challenge, you're a damned fool.'

  Brett helped the old man to his feet, and had one last word. 'You call her a girl? She's a woman, she's twenty-four, so that's how well you know her. I saw it the day I checked on her driver's licence .'

  'Will you promise to think about it?' The old man had lost his aggressiveness and was pleading now.

  'I'll promise to give it some thought, and that's all.' Brett left the barn, and after a few minutes so did Mr. Alexan­der.

  Fern lay quite still. Poor old man, he wasn't going to get his last wish. Poor Brett! To have lost the girl he loved, and yet could not bear to think of taking anyone else for his wife.

  Suddenly a hen squawked right beneath her, almost start­ling the life out of her. She watched the cunning chook come out from a hole between two bales. Fern hopped down to find the nest of eggs, then she set off triumphantly to tell Kirsty, 'Mission accomplished.'