the man who was his real father. Now he knew the reality was very different. Ronald Gordon had known of Jim’s existence for years and he hadn’t bothered to make his acquaintance before this. The death of Sarah’s mother was unlikely to change Ronald’s attitude. The real barrier between them, Jim guessed, wasn’t time and absence. It was Wangallon. Sarah was obsessed with the property and she was her father’s daughter, and Jim Macken was the unwanted lad from Scotland who could ruin a close family’s heritage.
There was a young busker standing only a few feet away from where Jim sat. He was singing along to music from a tape recorder. His voice verged on the ordinary, yet any coin that came his way was greeted with such a wondrous smile that he invariably found the donation doubled. There was a person, Jim decided, who was happy in his own skin. He was making his own way in the world and not taking anything that he hadn’t made himself. Jim thought of his Scottish parents and wished he was back home. Next week, he promised himself. Next week, after the tests are back he’d book his return flight home. He wasn’t going to stay here with no friends to support him. He was paying his lawyer a fortune so Woodbridge could handle everything in his absence.
Sarah approached the busker and dropped coins in the hat at his feet. The man stopped singing and spoke to her for long minutes. Jim watched as Sarah laughed and then walked away. He followed her once again, trying to rehearse in his mind what he might say. He would like to talk to her one more time, yet somehow the words wouldn’t come and instead he found himself thinking of the eerie night he’d spent in Wangallon Homestead with the sprawling paddocks beyond. When Sarah crossed at the lights, Jim didn’t follow. He knew that not only did he not belong in her world, he was unwanted. He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets as the early afternoon shoppers and hurrying office workers milled around him. He should never have come to Australia at Robert Macken’s urging, he decided. He should have listened to his mother.
Hamish looked intently from the dark current of the river to the trees on the far bank, willing the cattle to show themselves. Removing a rope from his saddle, he borrowed both Harry’s and Angus’s and tied all three ropes together, securing one end to a thick-trunked gum.
Mungo shook his head. ‘Better stay, Boss, mebbe cattle not cross here.’
‘When they cross I want you to return with the cattle,’ Hamish ordered. ‘Join them up with the droving mob on the far boundary. I’ve got Wetherly in charge of them until you arrive, then you’re in charge, Mungo. You’re boss drover.’
‘Me, Boss? What about Luke?’
‘Luke no longer works here.’
Coiling the length of rope, Hamish walked his horse towards the water. The animal shied and reared up, begrudgingly entering the water under tightened reins and the prick of spurs. The horse found its feet on the sandy bottom and cautiously walked out into the deepening swirl. The water inched up Hamish’s thighs and then the bottom of the river slipped away and the water was running over the horse’s back. Hamish urged the animal onwards as his mount swam across, whispering to him, coaxing to him to keep going while simultaneously wondering how fast the water was rising. The rope was still feeding out behind them and although the current carried them diagonally, they landed on the far bank without injury. Hamish egged the horse up the sandy slope and tied the rope around a box tree, ensuring his return. The unmistakeable sound of crunching branches and a rushing tearing sound reverberated along the riverbank. His horse’s ears twitched nervously. Hamish signalled to Mungo. The cattle were moving too fast. Something had gone wrong.
He managed to gallop his horse along the sandy riverbank just as the first of the cattle hurtled towards the water. The leaders ran directly into the glassy surface, while others slowed on approach. Some were pushed into the river by the weight of those behind; others thought better of the task ahead and turned either left or right to run along the bank. Casualties were immediate. Two carcasses were floating downstream while a third animal lay on its side on the opposite bank, the animal’s hind legs kicking at the sand as cattle scrambled over the