by Patrick Ford
“Did Sarah tell you she is a good bookkeeper and administrator?” said Susan. “She used to run a childcare centre at home in Worcester.”
“Gee, that will be handy.”
Sarah and Peter went off for a walk in the garden. They came back with naked happiness on their faces. Sarah was wearing an engagement ring. Susan said, “Oh, Sarah, we are so happy for you. When will you get married?”
Denni said, “If you want to, you could be married in our garden. How would that be?” Thus, it was arranged that Peter and Sarah would marry on a Saturday, in five weeks’ time.
The phone rang. Denni answered. “It’s for you Jack; it’s Ollie. He says it’s important.”
Jack took the phone. When he came back to the table he said, “Ollie says there has been a good fall of rain, and we will need to begin planting in a couple of days. But he said that Robyn has had a fall from her horse. It looks as though she has a broken arm and concussion. Ken will have his hands full with her, so I will have to get home tomorrow or the next day to help.” He continued, “Helen, why don’t you stay and have your break. Susan and I will have to go home. The kids will have to be in school on Monday. Two days later, they set off for home.
Chapter 26
Finale
It was barely dawn when Jack and Susan turned into the road to the homestead at Emu Ridge. There, spread out before them, seemingly to the horizon, were endless fields of green. They had planted eight thousand acres at Emu Ridge this year, and two thousand at Ballinrobe. The crop looked spectacular and Jack was expecting another bumper year.
They were driving in Jack’s pride and joy, a new Land Rover 110 with a tray back and a diesel engine. Jack had had a succession of Toyotas after Land Rover disappeared from the marketplace. They were good vehicles, as good as the Land Rover, and with better resale value. However, Jack indulged his boyhood infatuation with Land Rover.
The Land Rover his father had bought almost thirty years ago still resided in its special shed at Ballinrobe, preserved in its original condition. He and Susan often used it to visit their special thinking place. Three of their children had learned to drive in it. Michael, now almost seven, had had his first lesson just a few days ago. Jack would never sell that vehicle; he always pictured Paddy in the driver’s seat. It sometimes brought tears to his eyes.
Today, they drove up the steep track and arrived at the top of Emu Ridge. Ken and Robyn had bulldozed a flat area here to serve as a lookout, for they loved to sit there and survey their domain as well. Jack stopped the Land Rover and cut the engine. It was a cold day, so they sat in the vehicle, listening to the southwesterly swirling across the ridge, rocking the vehicle and bringing the frigid air all the way from Antarctica. For several minutes, they sat in silence. Susan moved across the seats to Jack and put her head on his shoulder. She stroked his arm. The old electricity began to tingle again. “Darling,” he said, “We have our very own lookout now. Do you remember Armidale in February, 1964?”
“Like yesterday,” she said. “I loved you at first sight. I wanted you to kiss me so much.”
“Well, I did eventually; remember I was only a little bush kid.”
“Oh, Jack, despite our lost years, we have had a wonderful life. How lucky we have been.”
Jack thought of those lost years, of how the grief of separation had pushed him into achieving his aim of becoming an army officer. He remembered the horrors of Vietnam, the men he had killed, the eventual discovery of Susan’s whereabouts and the untold joy of reunion. There had been the joy of his children, the hard years as wool and cattle prices had crashed, when drought had tormented them as the sun burned down and crops and pastures shriveled and blew away.
However, while the land is cruel and heartless, it can be kind. The rains always come in the end, and their crops flourished, their cattle grew fat. Now, they were well established, had money invested in shares and real estate. Some might regard them as rich, but Jack had been well schooled by Paddy on the fine Australian tradition of equality, of mateship. He was proud to call all kinds of people his mates. Therein lay his true wealth. He looked at his wife. She was approaching forty and she looked ten years younger. Age and motherhood had taken away her model’s figure, but only just. She was still trim and fit, and she loved him more than ever. How lucky can one man be?
Susan saw a lean strong man, with a few streaks of grey in his dark hair, his once wide and innocent green eyes now shadowed by twenty years of sun and wind, dust and rain. He had had his share of suffering, of action and hard work, but with his family, he was gentle and loving.
They had prospered. Their strong love had made that so much easier. Their love and support for each other had made them unbeatable.
Their two properties stood transformed. Jack had been right about chemical weed control. He had visited Canada and America twice in recent years, taking his family to see their Grandmother. Marci, now sixty-five, remained in good health. However, she still refused to visit Australia. Sarah and Peter had visited her on their honeymoon. She had been happy for them, but Sarah felt there was sadness in her, knowing that both her daughters were married and lived so far away. She felt abandoned; this was just what she had been so afraid of twenty-one years ago.
Now, Ballinrobe was devoted almost entirely to cropping, with a small area Jack used to hold cattle in transit. Here they grew a variety of crops, for no-till farming demands a rotation of different crops to avoid the build-up of disease. Wheat dominated, but there were crops of Sorghum and Chickpeas and fodder crops for the cattle.
At Emu Ridge, as well as the eight thousand acres of crop. Jack’s favourite breeding cows grazed the balance of the property, two thousand acres. Today, he and Susan would engage in their favourite pastime at this time of year for the cows had begun to have their calves. They loved an early morning ride through the mob, in the bracing wind, as their horses’ breath rose like steam into the cold air, their hooves crunching the frosted grass, seeing little red and white bundles scattered across the pasture.
Jacqui was in her third year of medicine at Queensland University. As Jacqui had done, Genevieve had taken up residence with Duncan and Denni for her final two years schooling. She wanted to be a Vet.
Patrick was undecided about his future. There was no doubt that he would come back to the farm, but he had taken a gap year. He had been at home working for six months. He was about to join some friends for a backpacking tour of Europe.
Michael had become Jack’s best mate, his constant companion.
In Brisbane, Denni’s girls were working hard at their studies, Grace at the University, Roseanne about to join her. They were interested in Economics and Business studies.
Peter and Sarah had discovered a love like Jack and Susan’s. The twins, now nineteen years old, were about to finish apprenticeships as electricians under their father’s tutelage and would help him expand his already thriving business, with four branches and twelve staff. Sarah had been a good administrator indeed.
Helen, now approaching seventy, was still Queen of Ballinrobe. Mick was still her gardening partner
Ollie was still at work, but Jack had given him a coordinator’s job. He made regular inspections of Emu Ridge and Ballinrobe and organised the permanent and casual staff. Modern language would describe him as a Human Resources Manager. He would have scoffed at the term. Jack called him his RSM.
Susan broke into his reverie. “Jack Riordan, the sun has been up for more than an hour. Ken will have the horses ready. Let’s go see our newest crop of babies.” He took her in his arms and kissed her with the old passion. Tonight they would make love again as they had done thousands of times before, and it would be just as good, probably better, than any other time.
Jack and Susan had built a fine house indeed.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Patrick Ford
I have lived in Goondiwindi, Queensland, for most of my life. I have been a farmer for most of this time, but also worked as a farm consultant and
an accountant for many years. I have travelled extensively in North America, the UK, Ireland, Western Europe, Malaysia, Vanuatu, and New Zealand. I have always had a love of history, particularly military history. As a youth, I had an ambition to become a regular army officer, but commitments to the family farm precluded this.
I have had a colourful and varied career. As a farmer, I learned about life and death, jubilation and sorrow, success and failure, from an early age as I experienced good seasons and crops, but also drought, flood, fire, and market crashes. As a soldier, I learned about duty, commitment, and honour, along with planning and man-management. As a student of history, and a traveller, I gained important information and learned to appreciate different cultures. I am a voracious reader of both fiction and non-fiction and that, along with my life experiences has delivered me a deep well of knowledge from which to draw my stories.
I began writing in 2012 and my first book, ‘Drowning in Her Eyes’, reflects a part of my early life that has been imprinted in my memory for more than fifty years. It tells a story of young love and the joy and sorrow it can bring. That part of my life did not turn out well for me, but I was able to gift to my characters the happy conclusion I did not have.
Sometimes I feel that I have learnt so much in my life, and that it is unfair people should die with so much unsaid or unrecorded. I am determined that will not happen with me, and I use history, and even family history, to produce novels sometimes based on actual events.
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