A Changing Land - By Nicole Alexander Page 0,67

are no longer welcome at Wangallon.’

‘Sarah!’ Anthony said loudly.

She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Get your things and get out.’

Jim stood. What did she intend to do? Leave him under a tree? ‘I’ll be staying until I meet my father, Ronald.’

‘Ronald has no interest in meeting you,’ Sarah seethed.

‘Mate, look,’ Anthony began. ‘Why don’t you move into the pub?’

‘Don’t mate me.’ The one thing Jim knew he would not be able to tolerate was any interference from Anthony.

‘Fine, work it out yourself,’ Anthony retaliated.

‘You can bunk over in the jackeroo’s quarters,’ Sarah finally relented. ‘I’ll telephone Jack and let him know you’re coming. When you walk out the back door, you’ll see the lights in the distance. It’s about a mile. You Scots are used to walking across the hills and dales, should be a doddle for you.’

‘Was that really necessary?’ Anthony asked when they were alone.

They were sitting in the kitchen, eating a hastily prepared dinner of leftover steamed chicken with lettuce and tomato. Sarah speared a piece of chicken and chewed on it sullenly. She was in no mood to justify her actions. ‘I hear the work is still going on over at Boxer’s Plains.’

Anthony, finishing his own meal, drained his beer. ‘I don’t think tonight is the time to be discussing this.’

‘And when should we be discussing it, Anthony? When you have succeeded in wiping out some of our prime grazing country or when our costs escalate from your broadacre farming enterprise and the bank telephones and says, “I’m sorry, but we have a problem”?’

Anthony tried not to take offence at the curt anger in her voice. ‘Jim is going to be the problem.’

Sarah shook her head. ‘You think?’ She carried their plates to the sink.

‘Hey, I am on your side, Sarah. The Boxer’s Plains project is being done specifically so that we can increase our productivity and therefore our income. Jim is legally entitled to his share and when that happens we will have less country and the same amount of debt to service.’

Sarah dropped the plates loudly in the sink. ‘Unlike you, I don’t consider Jim’s claim to be a done deal.’

Anthony sighed. ‘Legally and morally it’s the right thing to do.’

‘And when did you decide to become a beacon for human rights?’

Jim walked through the kitchen in stony silence, his bag thrust over his shoulder. They listened as the back door slammed shut with a bang that shook the plate of chicken on the sink.

‘Where are my bloody boots?’ Jim questioned angrily, his voice loud.

Bullet’s bark answered. Sarah allowed a grim smile to settle on her lips.

‘This is turning into a debacle.’ Anthony shoved a split piece of wood into the Aga’s firebox.

‘You’re telling me. I’m sorry but I don’t understand what I’ve done to deserve your sneaking around with the Boxer’s Plains thing. While I’m starting to understand the reasons for the new development, I’m hurt and disappointed in the way you handled it.’

‘I know,’ Anthony brushed his hands free of dirt. ‘I just couldn’t see any other way of doing it. Wangallon has always been predominantly grazing and I knew you would want to keep it that way.’

‘Of course I want to keep it that way. We’re not bloody farmers, we never have been. I don’t know the arse-end of a scarifier from a set of harrows. And I’m not inclined to learn.’

‘Change can be good.’

‘Not if it’s not required,’ Sarah replied quickly.

‘You can’t stop Jim, you know.’ Anthony drew his eyebrows together. ‘The law is the law, Sarah.’

She stared back at him with the stirrings of the flinty gaze he’d grown accustomed to seeing in her grandfather. ‘Maybe if you’d strained yourself to come home at a decent hour last night we could have had some sort of a plan worked out. Instead you deserted me.’ The hot water splurted into the sink where it bubbled with dishwashing liquid. Sarah began washing their few dinner things.

Anthony recalled the comforting fug of the hotel with its billow of cold air every time the door opened to allow another stray in. Anastasia cooked him up some sausages for dinner and he’d managed to snavel the corner seat near the wood-fire heater. Later she’d joined him and they’d shared a glass each of rum and warm milk. The evening reminded him of what his life had become and what it could have been and now he felt guilty for it. He wanted to wrap his arms around Sarah, tell her he cared, ask

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