boy, Angus.’ Lee stuffed his wooden pipe with the tobacco, clamped it between the remains of his teeth and looked at Boxer. ‘He is not. There is another.’ He sighed heavily. ‘There is always another.’
Boxer’s wide forehead halved in size as the whites of his eyes increased.
The Landcruiser lurched across the paddock. Matt never did mind the odd bump and Sarah found herself clutching at the hand bar on the dash as the vehicle found its way into every pothole on the rough track. A heavy dew was only just starting to dissipate and silvery cobwebs crisscrossed the grass. Beneath the tufts the soil was almost bare. Thanks to the lack of rain there was no clover or herbage, winter feed coveted by both cattle and sheep. From the branches of scattered trees, birds fluffed and preened themselves, silver-crested cockatoos competed with the brilliant red and blue plumage of bush parrots, while small bush budgies darted for insects. Sarah smiled, despite the drying countryside. Ahead the road forked into two. One track led to the creek and the family cemetery, with a wider road diverging off it towards the cavernous woolshed and sheep yards. The other bypassed the ridge and paddock where Cameron had been killed, to circumnavigate the boundary of Wangallon. Matt turned down the latter and stopped at the first of many gates, grinning cheekily. ‘It’s the first of twelve.’
Sarah wasn’t surprised when she guessed their destination. She just hoped that the overstocking problem she’d envisioned had not decimated the block too much. Boxer’s Plains had been the last property purchased by the Gordons. For that reason it retained a special place in the family’s collective history. When her father, Ronald, suggested purchasing more land in the late 70s, Angus made it clear he wasn’t interested in following the expansionary vision of his own father, choosing instead to embark on a major improvement plan. Money was spent on renewing ageing fences, building cattle yards and renovating staff accommodation; trees were thinned out to allow an increase in natural pasture growth and in turn the stock-carrying capacity of the country increased. Angus Gordon’s legacy was that of a highly efficient property, with excellent infrastructure and a stock-per-acre ratio that was envied by neighbours, especially during periods of drought when his management skills weeded out the men from the boys.
Finally reaching the Wangallon River, they crossed the army bridge Angus purchased and erected in the fifties. A wide stream of muddy water moved sluggishly beneath them as they rattled over the wooden boards, disturbing two grey kangaroos on the bank below. Old box trees marked the line of past floods, while a track leading down the steep bank to the water and reappearing on the other side was a reminder that this waterway could easily be crossed in times of severe drought.
It was unlike Matt to be quiet for so long. Although a person of uncommon calm, Sarah knew that prolonged silence in the man usually meant something significant was weighing on his mind. She settled into a guise of steely resolve that she’d been told on occasion was expected by a Gordon. Frankly she didn’t quite think those characteristics were particularly well developed in her.
They drove through a stretch of lignum, the thick, woody plants cloaking their view both left and right. As always, Sarah felt unsettled visiting this part of Wangallon. It was as if she were entering another country, one cut off from the world, and imagined it was the wide river boundary that set the block apart. Then the road broadened out to run beneath a canopy of trees before revealing an open expanse of sky and land. Sarah heard the metallic hum of machinery as Matt pulled up under the shade of a box tree and handed Sarah a pair of binoculars.
‘You’ll get a better view of things if you stand in the back,’ he suggested.
Stepping up into the Landcruiser’s tray, Sarah raised the binoculars to her eyes. For a moment she felt she was part of a dream. Two large tractors were pulling heavy discs behind them, cutting and turning the rich black soil beneath. To their left a shimmer of metal caught her attention. ‘My God!’
‘Yep.’ Matt joined her and together they stared out across the wrecked paddock in the direction of the two D9 bulldozers. Sarah heard a crack and then a second later a tree tumbled to the ground.
‘They started two days ago,’ Matt volunteered. ‘They reckon we’ll get about 2000