only just discovering he was injured. ‘Smacked it in the yards.’
‘Oh.’ She took another bite. ‘Well, I visited Dad.’ The moistened dough clung to her gums and she ran her tongue across her teeth to free the sodden clumps. ‘Mum died.’ She rubbed her eyes, surprised that after so many years she felt so sad.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s for the best.’ Sarah left the remaining sandwich on her plate. ‘She was pretty sick at the end. It’s hard to reconcile the person in the hospital bed with the woman who used to stand in the West Wangallon kitchen ordering me about.’
‘Some people are just different, I guess.’
‘Everyone seems to think we should pay out Jim.’
‘Well, it looks like my opinion didn’t count for much.’
‘Maybe you should have listened to mine, or at least asked it. It cuts both ways, Anthony.’
Anthony wet his finger and dabbed at the crumbs on his plate. Sarah knew it was a waste of time trying to discuss Jim or the development at the moment. ‘How’s everything going?’ There were dirty plates and coffee mugs on the sink and a trail of sugar ants tracking their way towards the toaster.
‘Ask Matt.’
‘I’m asking you.’
Anthony lifted his plate and carried it to the sink. Their eyes met briefly. ‘I’m not much interested.’
Sarah swallowed the remains of the bread and mutton. ‘What do you mean you’re not much interested?’ Tension fizzed between them. ‘Well?’
‘As I said, ask Matt. Your precious stockman has taken to giving me advice in your absence. Bloody hide of him.’ Anthony squeezed his thumb and forefinger together. ‘He’s this close to getting booted off the property.’
Sarah gasped. ‘What? You can’t fire Matt.’
‘Why the hell not?’
‘Because.’
Anthony shook his head. ‘Not good enough. He seems to be swinging on your grandfather’s coat-tails. I had to remind him that the bloody old master and commander had kicked the bucket.’
What was she going to do now? She could hardly reveal Matt’s role on the property without acknowledging she’d kept it a secret from Anthony, and he wouldn’t give a squat if she argued that the terms of Matt’s employment were part of her grandfather’s will. ‘You two aren’t getting on?’ she asked.
‘Let’s just say that we’re not cogging too well. Matt’s down at the yards about to weigh the steers. Now you’re here you can give him a hand.’
Slightly miffed by the abruptness of his tone, Sarah covered the mutton in plastic wrap and gathered the bread, meat and butter in her arms. ‘You coming?’
Anthony picked up the newspaper from the kitchen table. ‘Now why the hell would you need me?’
Sarah walked through the side gate of the cattle yards. Bullet greeted her with an excited yelp and she ruffled his coat. ‘Good to see you too.’
Bullet gave a low whine.
‘I’ll tell you all about it later. Now you stay here boy,’ she cautioned. Bullet slid beneath the bottom steel railing and took up his front seat position between Whisky, Moses and Rust. They were itching to get into the yards although they were trained sufficiently to know that unless they were called by name, the cattle yards were off limits. Sarah marvelled at the dogs’ resolve. Climbing over the rails into the next yard, she waved as she approached Matt and Jack. They were standing at an aluminium table, checking the digital readout on the monitor attached to the portable scales. If Matt was surprised by her unexpected return, he didn’t show it. Nor did he mention Anthony’s absence.
‘G’day Sarah. Nice day for it.’
‘Tops,’ Sarah answered. There was a biting southerly ripping into their faces.
Jack reattached the leads to the battery. ‘Hi Sarah. Is that better, Matt?’
Sarah looked over Matt’s shoulder. ‘Hi Jack.’ The monitor showed minus five. ‘It’s out 5 kgs,’ Matt answered. ‘How much do you weigh, Sarah? Jack here put on 3 kgs from the two meat pies he scoffed down.’
‘About 62 plus a stale mutton and tomato sauce sandwich.’
‘Tasty,’ Jack grinned.
Matt cleared the monitor to zero, walked over to the race and opened the side panel. On the ground inside sat the heavy metal scales. ‘Hop on.’
Once she was standing in the centre of the scales Matt checked the monitor. ‘Spot on 62 kgs. Seems to be weighing okay now. Do you want to do the pencilling, Sarah?’
‘Sure.’ Sarah slammed shut the side gate and cleared the monitor to zero again, looking down at the clipboard on the dusty table. There were forty-four steers already weighed, a handful of which were bordering on being a bit