Valley of the White Gold

by Tony Parsons

  After the morning smoko and after they had counted out the shorn sheep, Dan and Jim went back to watching Rod at the wool table. Any wool that wasn’t of warp or good length and exceptionally fine, or showing too much colour and tip, was thrown into one of the standard bins. When a really good fleece came onto the table, and there were many such fleeces, the shoulder wool was skirted out and thrown into the big basket. That wool, Rod told them, would have to be resorted.

  During the course of the day, Dan and Jim kept going back to inspect the wool in the special stack. It looked so even and so lovely in quality that it seemed unrealistic to consider resorting. Dan suggested it was even good enough to be baled as it was.

  Rod shook his head. ‘It only needs a few stronger runners in a top line to kill the price. You need to sort it thoroughly. It’s called fleaing it. When I’ve finished with that stack, there won’t be a single runner in it. The only thing we might have to decide is whether to go for one bale of very special wool or a five-bale line a shade stronger. It will depend on how your sheep come up. Sometimes older ewes produce finer wool. And the year makes a difference. Some years a clip is finer than usual and sometimes it’s stronger. Then there’s your wether wool and whether it matches this stuff. What I’d suggest is that you bring your wethers in after these lines of young ewes and leave the oldest ewes for us to finish on. Can you do that?’

  ‘I suppose I could. The wethers take the most mustering because they’re in the roughest country,’ Dan said. It wasn’t the way they usually mustered but he could see that what Rod suggested made sense. Beth was going to be kept very busy out in the hills.

  By the close of the third day’s shearing, the stack had grown substantially and Rod had shaped it into a big square. It appeared spectacularly consistent and snow-white, and even the usually blasé shearers inspected it from time to time.

  The first visitors, Hector McLeod and his son, Dougal, arrived the following morning after smoko. Dan escorted them in and stood back with a grin as Hector and Rod shook hands. By the look on Hector’s face, Dan reckoned his friend had got more than he bargained for with this particular handshake.

  Father and son walked over to the big stack and ran their eyes over it. Hector was dressed in dark-green gaberdine trousers and a green-and-grey flannelette shirt. Dougal, a younger version of his father down to the slightly hooked nose, was wearing white moleskins and a blue shirt.

  ‘What do you think, Hector?’ Dan asked.

  ‘That’s a great stack. I’d like to see it when it’s sorted through,’ Hector said in his gruff voice.

  ‘Me too,’ Dan agreed.

  On their way back to Glengarry, Hector and Dougal met Wally and Bella Osborne, who were on their way to Mudgee. Hector didn’t have much time for Wally – he had disliked him at first sight. But he had a lot of time for Bella, and the Stafford family generally, so, if he wasn’t exactly affable, he wasn’t as aloof as he could be on occasion.

  ‘Looks like Dan is going to have a smashing top line this year,’ McLeod remarked by way of opening the conversation. The comment stirred Wally’s curiosity and he decided to call in at Mattai on their way back from town.

  The day had promised to be a bit better than most for Bella because Wally had told her they would be having lunch in Mudgee. That was the sort of thing Wally did to make up for his errant behaviour. Of course, it didn’t make up for it at all, as far as Bella was concerned, but she supposed it was better than nothing.

  And so, after lunching in Mudgee, Wally and Bella dropped in to Mattai. Wally stood in front of the big superfine stack and drank in the beauty of it. The stack stirred him like women stirred him. It was so pure and white, like the naked body of a woman. And the wool’s staples with their neat tips were like the small nipples of a young girl. What Osborne realised, albeit with envy, was that the man who had built this stack, selected the wool for it, was a real wool man, an artist in his field. He moved from the stack to the wool bins and then, as if drawn by a magnet, came back to the stack. His eyes roved over it as he searched for a piece of wool that was out of place. Yet he could not find a single piece of stronger wool.

  Bella, too, had a look at the wool in the bins and stood for a while, admiring the lovely big white stack. She then concentrated her attention on the tall man at the wool table. Never had she seen a man like him in the Half Moon.

  Rod, busy dissecting shoulder wool from the fleeces, looked across at the visitors as they appeared from the wool room. He saw a sandy-haired man of medium height whom he guessed would be in his late twenties. He sensed he might be a boozer from his slightly florid face. Beside him was a tall, very good-looking woman who looked several years younger than the man. Rod nodded at her and was rewarded with a quick, furtive smile. She continued to watch him at work. Rod noted the momentary scowl on the man’s face and, at that moment, registered an immediate dislike for the fellow. Osborne turned on his heel and walked out of the shed and down to the yards to talk to Dan.

  Rod watched the striking woman from the corner of an eye as she went out to the wool room. He found her sitting on a bale of wool when the gong rang for the end of the run and also the end of the day’s shearing.

  ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I’m Rod Cameron.’

  ‘I’m Bella Osborne,’ she said, flashing a beautiful smile. ‘I used to be Bella Stafford. Dan is my father. I live just down the road at Glen Avon.’

  Rod nodded. ‘Are you a fine-wool crank, too?’ he asked.

  ‘Not really. Not like Dad and my brother Jim and my husband and most of the others around here. Of course, I was brought up on a diet of fine wool, I guess you could say, and I do realise how important it is to everyone in the Half Moon. But I’ve heard little else discussed since I was a girl, and there are other things in life, I reckon. Like books and music. Fashion and travel. All sorts of things.’

  ‘I’m keen on books and music, too,’ Rod said. He was intrigued by this woman, not having seen anyone as stunning for a very long time.

  They were deep in discussion and she was laughing when Wally came back into the shed.

  Wally hated to see Bella talking with other men and obviously enjoying their company. He was perturbed to find his wife so animated in the company of Cameron, a man she had only just met. He’d heard all about Cameron from Jim, including his sporting achievements. To be good and throw it all away, as Cameron had reportedly done, was unforgivable, as far as Wally was concerned.

  As soon as Wally had seen what Cameron was doing with the Mattai wool, he’d realised that here was a man superior in knowledge to him. Cameron was also quite good-looking, and had a certain style about him – Wally could imagine that women might fall over each other in their rush to be noticed. As proof of this there was his wife talking and laughing with Cameron as if she’d known him all her life. He would make her pay for that.

  ‘Come on, Bella. We’ll have to be getting back,’ Wally said icily, placing his hand possessively on her shoulder.

  Rod felt he saw a shadow cross Bella’s face and wondered what the couple’s relationship was like behind closed doors.

  ‘Coming, Wally,’ she said. ‘Bye for now, Rod. I hope we’ll meet again.’

  Rod nodded and watched her follow her husband down the steps of the wool room. She was wearing navy slacks and an aqua blouse and she looked a million dollars. Bella was a lovely young woman and it was clear that she hungered for friendly conversation. He thought she would be worth talking to once you got to know her. When he encountered an ill-matched couple like Wally and Bella, he always wondered what had brought them together. Surely it was not love or even money? Perhaps escape. But escape from what?

  Chapter Eight

  Back at Glen Avon, dinner had been a rather dour affair. Bella had made a couple of attempts at conversation but Wally had answered only briefly. They had been late home after leaving the Mattai shearing shed because Bella had dropped off bread and some groceries they had bought in Mudgee for her mother. Wally told Bella
that he’d feed the dogs after dinner so she’d thrown on some steak and tomatoes and cooked chips in the frypan. Wally had had one whisky before dinner and then another afterwards, before going outside to feed his dogs.

  Bella dashed for the phone as soon as she heard the back door bang shut. It was Beth who answered at Mattai. ‘Have you seen him yet?’ Bella asked excitedly.

  ‘Seen who?’

  ‘Dad’s new classer.’

  ‘No, not yet. I’ve only heard what Dad and Jim have been saying about him. I’ve heard, though, that Hector McLeod gave him the thumbs-up,’ Beth said.

  ‘Go and have a look at him, Beth. He’s gorgeous.’ Bella took a quick look over her shoulder to check that Wally wasn’t within earshot.

  ‘He’s probably married. All the good ones are,’ Beth said despondently.

  ‘I have a feeling he isn’t. Go and have a look anyway,’ Bella urged.

  ‘I will when I get time.’ It was too much to expect that Mr Wonderful would turn up to class their clip and be unmarried into the bargain. Right now Beth had a lot on her plate, as it was her job to bring in the woolly sheep and take them back after they’d been shorn. She also had a young dog she was working on because there was a local trial coming up in a few weeks and she wanted to have Trump ready for it.

  Bella and Beth talked for a little while longer until Bella heard Wally at the back door. She bade her sister a hasty good night and fled for the kitchen. She was expecting some repercussions from her encounter with Rod Cameron earlier in the day. She knew that Wally hated her talking with other men but she wasn’t going to be dictated to. She’d always been a friendly, outgoing person and being married to Wally wasn’t going to change her.

  But even one glass of whisky made him rougher than usual in bed and occasionally even ended with Bella bitten and bruised. The more he drank, the worse it was.

  In the lounge room, Wally poured himself another full glass of whisky. He had been brooding over things all afternoon. He couldn’t forbid Bella from talking with Dan’s new classer because that might get back to Dan and make him look foolish, but he could certainly make Bella pay.

  Bella came into the room, regarding the drink in his hand. ‘You’ve had enough to drink, Wally. You don’t need all that to get warmed up. It’s not that cold outside,’ she said boldly.

  Nagging woman, Wally thought as he looked at her. But what a great-looking woman. His woman. ‘All right, all right. Don’t nag. I want to go to bed now,’ he said.

  ‘What? It’s only eight o’clock,’ Bella protested.

  ‘I want to go to bed,’ Wally said stubbornly.

  ‘I was going to watch some TV.’

  Wally raised his voice. ‘Bella, I want to go to bed. NOW.’

  Bella knew it was useless arguing with him when he’d been drinking. Thankfully, the drink usually put him to sleep fairly quickly.

  She got undressed and pulled on her dressing-gown. She never felt comfortable about Wally seeing her naked. Conversely, he seemed to love flaunting his nakedness. He came into the bedroom where Bella was sitting on one side of the double bed, waiting apprehensively. He reached down and, with one grab, had her gown over her head. He threw it on the floor and then turned and pushed her face-down across the bed. His mind went back to a night when he’d enjoyed two hours of ecstasy with a prostitute before she fled into the night.

  Wally felt the satiny smoothness of Bella’s skin. His excitement mounted but, as usual, Bella simply lay inert beneath him. In frustration that had been building for some time, he pulled back and smacked his wife’s side with the flat of his hand.

  Bella had been trying to black out her husband’s lovemaking by thinking about the man she’d met a few hours earlier. There, she thought, might be a real man. Rod Cameron might be just the man for Beth. She was brought back to earth by Wally’s sharp smack and made an attempt to lift herself off the bed.

  ‘Wally, what are you doing?’ Her cry was muffled as she was lying with her face pressed against the bed clothes.

  Wally’s answer was to give her another slap, which made him feel even better. And then another.

  ‘Stop it, Wally. You’re hurting me,’ Bella protested, unsure of whether this was some kind of game to him.

  ‘I’m sick of you just lying there doing nothing. It’s always the same,’ Wally said.

  Bella lifted herself up and made an effort for Wally in the hope that she could soon have some peace. Although it was a cool night, sweat began to run down between her breasts. As if from a long way away, she could hear Wally shouting at her and she felt exhausted. At last he collapsed in ecstasy, and Bella moved to one side of him and hid her face in the pillow.

  ‘Just shows what you can do when you put a bit of effort into it,’ Wally gloated.

  ‘You’re cruel, Wally. I think you need to… to get some kind of treatment,’ Bella said defiantly. She had just about had enough.

  Wally sat up in the bed and looked down at her angrily. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me. If you ever say anything like that again, I’ll thump you good and proper.’

  ‘I’m your wife. I’m committed to you and I want to make things work. Surely you feel the same.’

  Wally grabbed a handful of Bella’s long dark hair and pulled her up until her face was close to his own, then slapped her hard across one cheek. ‘Don’t talk back to me,’ he shouted.

  Bella fell back on the bed and burst into tears. It was too much. She got out of bed, put on her gown and walked out of the room, then spent the rest of the night on the sofa. When she woke up, it was morning and Wally was nowhere to be found. What on earth had she done to find herself in this situation?

  Bella took off her gown and looked at herself in the mirror. Part of one buttock and thigh were discoloured. One side of her face was inflamed – she would have to cover it with makeup. Feeling emotionally drained, she prayed that nobody from Mattai would visit her for the next couple of days. How many more nights would she have to endure this, she wondered? Immediately she answered her own question. None. If Wally was going to behave like this every time he drank, she was out. She went to the bathroom and turned on the bath taps. As she soaked herself in the tub, she pondered the change that had come over her life with marriage. She had never experienced any violence at Mattai. She had been part of a close family and a much admired member of it. There was love in that home but there was no love at Glen Avon. She imagined how different life could be with the right partner.

  She realised that she and Wally were poles apart. There was something amiss with him. He had a streak of cruelty that she could not condone. And there was no love in him. Not even a tiny bit. She’d seen him belt his dogs before and now he had started on her. She couldn’t live with a man like that. And she certainly couldn’t contemplate having children with him unless he made efforts to change. How would he treat them?

  Bella wished she could confide in her mother or Beth, but how could she? She couldn’t admit that she’d made the wrong decision in agreeing to marry Wally. For the time being she would have to deal with the situation herself.

  As she got out of the bath, Bella determined that she would give Wally one last chance. He was bearable if he stayed off the grog and surely he could give that up for the sake of his marriage.

  Wally didn’t return to the house until late in the afternoon. Bella was having a cup of tea when he walked in. He put a small red velvet case on the table beside her. She looked up at him questioningly and then back at the case.

  ‘You’d better open it,’ he said.

  Bella unclipped the case and received a momentary shock. She was looking at a sapphire brooch and matching bracelet that she had admired in a jeweller’s shop the last time she and Wally had been to Orange. Wally must have driven there and back to buy them. She knew what they were worth, but it didn’t sway her from what she had to say.

  ‘This is a very generous gift, Wally. You didn’t have to do it, and I thank you. I hope it’s your way of saying sorry.
But if you think it compensates for what you did last night, it doesn’t. When you drink, you’re to stay away from me. You’ll sleep on your own. I’m not going to put up with that kind of treatment ever again, or I swear I’ll leave you. I mean it. Do you understand?’ she demanded.

  Wally didn’t really imagine that Bella would leave him. She might be threatening to, but she would never actually go through with it. He’d given her a half share in a property, jewellery galore and a good home done up to suit her. It was enough to keep any woman happy, he assured himself. But as much as Bella tried to tell herself the same thing, she wasn’t so sure, and had no idea where to turn.

  Chapter Nine

  At Mattai, Beth hadn’t seen much of the shearing for the first week of Rod Cameron’s stay because she was mustering woollies, droving them to the shed and then taking the shornies back to their paddocks. She was out on the property all day, her sandwiches and a thermos in her saddle bag for any brief breaks she could afford. Jim helped her from time to time while Dan looked after things around the shed and kept an eye on how the wool was coming off. Beth had also stopped short of visiting the shed because she was selfconscious about making an appearance there. Jim had told her that the men were always making comments about her. She was flattered by the attention, but wasn’t keen to show herself in front of them. There were always the weekends for her to inspect the wool.

  By the end of the first week of shearing, most of the local woolgrowers had visited Mattai to check out the wool. What Rod Cameron was doing with Dan’s clip was the main talking point in the valley. The stack had grown considerably and every visitor gazed at it in astonishment. None of them had ever seen such a wondrous pile of wool. It looked so lovely it was hard to believe that it still needed to be resorted.