them. Taking a step back, she glanced from her great-grandfather’s room across the hallway to where Jim was. She needed a plan. Any plan. She wondered what Angus would do.
Hamish and Angus walked through the yard of rams. An easterly kept the sheep-refined dirt flying. It sneaked into crevices, swirling into the whorls of ears so that it took a persistent finger to clean out the sweat-moistened gluck. Angus breathed hot air through the handkerchief tied about his nose and mouth and glared defiantly at every ram turning towards him in interest. Having been knocked over last year, he knew the pain of a broken rib. At the gate, he stamped his foot in reply to a ram’s cloven-hoofed annoyance and was relieved when they finally approached the drafting race.
A row of peppercorn trees overhung the race, providing some shade, and beneath the largest tree on a rotted stump sat Boxer, sweat running down his face. Boxer swiped his arm across his mouth, took a swig of water from the canvas bag hanging off a branch above him and greeted Hamish with a broken-toothed excuse for a smile. Wetherly jumped the race easily and met Hamish halfway across the yard. Another Aboriginal stockman, Harry and the Scottish boy, McKenzie, waited nearby. Andrew Duff barely tipped his hat.
Hamish studied the rams pushed tight in the narrow race. The vibe from the men was strained. It was to be expected with the recent changes, however he wouldn’t tolerate any attitude – no one was indispensable.
‘An ordinary day for classing,’ Wetherly noted.
Hamish ignored him. ‘No need for you to be here, Boxer,’ he said kindly.
Boxer looked around the yard. ‘Long time dead, Boss, and mebbe you still need old fella.’
Hamish nodded. ‘Maybe.’
‘I’ve always been a firm believer in keeping sheep out of the yards on days such as this,’ Wetherly persevered. ‘It does a fleece no good to be subjected to such dusty conditions.’
‘Then you won’t find it a problem ensuring the rams are taken back to their paddock as soon as possible,’ Hamish answered curtly. Already the big animals panted and snorted, their curly horned heads catching on their neighbours or becoming wedged over the top of the wooden rails of the race. Hamish walked to the lead.
‘I’d be happy to do that,’ Wetherly offered, shadowing Hamish as he parted wool over a ram’s shoulder.
Hamish brushed the wool closed gently with the palm of his hand. ‘I’m classing out thirty of the better rams to be joined with a mob of maiden ewes.’
Angus regarded Wetherly with a doubtful incline to his head and repeated what his father had recently told him. ‘They’re a particularly good drop.’
‘And you’re figuring on some growthy lambs by the spring after the ewes are shorn,’ announced Wetherly, inserting his foot between father and son so that he slipped in beside Hamish.
Hamish spat dust from his mouth. ‘Keep your head clear, Angus. Plenty of men have been injured in the past, either having been knocked over in the yards, as you well know, or headbutted while leaning over the race.’ Behind Hamish, McKenzie followed with the raddle. ‘Give it to Wetherly,’ Hamish barked. That would take the new stud master down a peg or two. Wetherly marked a line of blue down the muzzle of the selected animal. Hamish parted the wool on the side of a large ram and beckoned Angus closer. ‘Good staple length and colour. See that whiteness?’
‘Good growthy size and height about him too,’ Wetherly added.
Hamish continued on down the race to the end. Boxer then drafted the classed rams out the top end through a pivoting gate, sending the selected rams to a yard on the left and the remainder to the right. Once the race was empty, McKenzie, Andrew and Harry filled it from the adjoining yard at the other end. Hamish classed six pens of rams and, finally satisfied with his selection, ordered them to be walked back to their new paddock at dust. He didn’t intend joining them until March but was a stickler for rotating mobs of sheep. He believed rotational grazing assisted with nutrition, disease prevention and stopped paddocks being eaten out.
The men moved the selected rams into another yard. There was little talk between them as they whistled their dogs up, pushing the disgruntled rams through a narrow gateway. The last twenty head ran in the opposite direction, stamping their feet in a combined show of anger and agitation. McKenzie walked in the opposite direction to the