acres of cultivation where these offset discs are working. No trees to knock down so it’s pretty cost-effective.’
‘Cost-effective,’ Sarah repeated. All she could think about was the beautiful grassland that was being ruined and the trees on the horizon that had provided shade in the summer and protection in the winter for their sheep and cattle. ‘Where are the ewes? The cows?’
‘Out there somewhere,’ Matt waved a hand in a vague northerly direction. ‘Pushed up against the far boundary, I reckon, trying to escape the intrusion.’
‘It was overstocked.’ It was more a statement than a question but when Matt nodded Sarah couldn’t help herself. ‘Why didn’t you say something to me?’
Matt frowned. ‘I queried Anthony on two occasions about the stock numbers. And I’ve been out here the last couple of Sundays to check on things. Actually I intended to tell him today that we would have to start moving stock out, and then I saw this.’
‘But Matt, this is too much. Are you telling me Anthony did this?’ What a stupid question. Who else would it be?
Matt studied the moonscape before them, avoiding the ticklish situation of an emotional woman. He began the painstaking process of rolling a cigarette. He could crack a snake’s back like a stockwhip and hang onto a snarling wild cat by the tail, but a slow discharge of sadness was beyond him. ‘I couldn’t go to you on a hunch, Sarah. Nor can I play favourites. I’m a hired hand.’
‘Jesus, Matt, first and foremost you work for Wangallon.’ Sarah jumped out of the back of the vehicle. ‘Drive over. I want this to stop immediately.’
They moved slowly across the uneven ground, once or twice bogging down in the freshly turned earth, Matt accelerating to bring them clear. Only when they drew level with the dozers did Sarah see the extent of their work; great trees and stringy saplings all bowed down between the great lumbering chain linking the dozers together. The metal links, each as large as a football, crawled across the ground collecting everything in their wake.
‘The country will be far more valuable once it’s cleared, Sarah.’
‘Not everything is about money,’ she snapped back, instantly regretting her tone.
‘Maybe not, but even if Anthony didn’t intend to farm it, imagine the increased stock numbers we would be able to run once the dozers get into that heavily timbered country. He is doing very selective clearing. Once the trees are gone the grasses will grow back tenfold.’
Sarah considered Matt’s comments. He was not one to speak idly. ‘Well, Matt, I don’t agree with this, especially considering the way it’s been handled. Besides which, it’s being ploughed up. Where the hell are we meant to run the cattle and sheep that usually graze here?’ She ran irritated fingers through her hair. ‘Then there is the monetary side. How much is this going to cost?’
‘Upwards of two hundred thousand dollars, with the work to be done in two stages. At least that’s what the contractor tells me. I haven’t spoken to Anthony about it.’
Sarah felt physically ill.
‘His intention is to clear all of Boxer’s Plains eventually. Personally I don’t think it’s a good idea. Farming is costly. You’ve got spraying and machinery and the vagaries of the weather. Then there is the infrastructure: you need silos to store seed, trucks for cartage to the rail lines at harvest …’
‘The list goes on.’
‘Pretty much.’ Matt drew up to the side of the one of the dozers and got out to speak to the driver.
In an hour these men would be hunting down Anthony, querying him furiously as to why a stop-work mandate had been suddenly imposed on them. ‘This is going to be difficult,’ Sarah admitted as they headed back to the homestead. ‘Can we get those cows from Boxer’s Plains out on the stock route pronto?’
‘Sure thing, Sarah.’
‘Good. And the sheep?’ They drove through the house paddock gate.
‘They’ll be right. We can feed them out there.’ Matt’s knuckles were white, gripping the steering wheel.
‘I’ll get the corn delivered asap. We can store it in the portable 25 tonne silo and then fill up the sheep feeder when needed.’ Sarah knew that like her, Matt was mad as hell. Yet beyond her anger lay something far more distressing; there was a terrible unravelling within her. Anthony had broken her trust.
Jim Macken finished reading the file and closed the manila folder. He glanced uneasily at his mother, who smiled at him nervously. He knew her opinion. She believed he