The Long Paddock, page 31
Will’s needles clicked again.
Denham chuckled softly behind her. ‘No wonder that bin is full. Check out how many chairs there are.’
Cressy looked around the large room. From the amount of available seats the mystery-knitters had quite an underground knitting club.
She went over to sit beside Judith who sat in a rocking chair knitting something round and pink. She smiled at Cressy. ‘That’s usually Edna’s seat.’
‘Edna?’
‘Yes,’ Meredith said from the doorway. ‘You’d be surprised how well Edna Galloway can keep a secret.’
‘I won’t be surprised ever again.’ Cressy looked around the cosy room. ‘Who do I talk to about joining up and learning to knit?’
Will grinned. ‘That’s the spirit.’
Beside Cressy, Judith shook her head with a small smile. ‘Will wasn’t always so enthusiastic. You should have heard him when the counsellor suggested knitting as a stress release.’
‘Well, I like it now. You know all those cowboy hats on the Main Street poles, I’m proud to say they’re mine.’
Cressy smiled and looked at his bandaged ankle that was elevated on the armchair’s footrest. ‘So I guess there’ll be lots more yarn-bombing in Woodlea while you’re off your feet?’
‘You bet. Dr Sam said it was a bad sprain and to keep off it. But I won’t be out of action long. Judith and I have some new things we’d like to do on the farm.’
‘That’s so wonderful to hear.’ Cressy realised Denham and Meredith were no longer in the room. She stood. ‘I’d better go and get Miss Tippy from Ella’s before she thinks she’s a pampered town dog.’
Will looked up from his knitting. ‘Bring her out to see us next week and stay for dinner.’
‘I’d love to.’
‘Good.’ Will winked. ‘Make sure Denham comes as well. I’ll be teaching those little bull riders of yours to knit as well as to crack whips, you know.’
Cressy smiled and headed to the kitchen to find Denham and Meredith. As she entered, the seriousness of their faces and their quiet words suggested they’d been having a heart-to-heart talk. She walked over to Denham and he slid an arm around her waist. Their no-public-display-of-affection rule was long gone.
‘Meredith has something she wants to tell us,’ Denham said, voice solemn.
Cressy nodded and looked across at the older woman. Meredith’s expression wasn’t only grave but her usually tanned skin looked pale. Lines of strain made her appear years older.
Meredith cleared her throat. ‘It’s time to have no more secrets between any of us.’ She paused as if unable to continue before turning to open a high cupboard. She took out a small white box she placed with unsteady hands on the kitchen bench. ‘This is why I knit.’
She slowly took the lid off to reveal a small set of blue baby booties and matching cardigan.
‘Meredith …’ Cressy’s voice broke. ‘You had a son.’
Denham left Cressy’s side to hug his aunt. She hugged him back and then moved away to touch the tiny powder-blue cardigan.
‘I did.’ Tears slipped over her cheeks. ‘I called him Simon, after his father who was the gentlest and kindest man.’
‘Is that why you go away?’ Denham asked softly. ‘It’s your son’s birthday.’
‘Yes. I only held him for a brief while but he’s still a part of me no matter what my parents said. Simon might have been a jackaroo, and from a socially unacceptable family, but he was more of a man than my father.’ Bitterness hardened Meredith’s words. ‘When I realised I was expecting I sent Simon a message but I never heard from him again. It wasn’t his fault, I later found out he’d been killed in a fall from a horse.’
Cressy bit her lip. No wonder she used to sense such a deep sadness in the woman before her.
‘I was desperate to keep our child but back in those days it wasn’t an option. I had no money of my own or even someone I could turn to for help. So I agreed to go to Sydney to board with a family before it became obvious I was with child. The story my parents made up was that I was away at teacher’s college.’
‘And that family was my mother’s,’ Denham said quietly.
‘Yes. She’s always been a dear friend and was with me the day … they took Simon away.’
‘Oh, Meredith.’ Cressy didn’t try and hide her sadness. ‘My heart breaks for you … You’ve never seen him again?’
‘No. If I could I’d find him but all the details died with my parents and no-one’s come looking for me. I just pray that perhaps something, a snippet of my life, would have stayed with him, along with the name I’d given him.’
‘He has …’ Denham’s low voice echoed in the sudden silence as Cressy and Meredith stared at him. ‘He has come looking.’
Meredith’s fingers hovered over her mouth. ‘He has?’
Denham pulled out a kitchen chair for his aunt to sink into. He sat opposite her and took her hand. ‘Who did you see at the rodeo dinner? Was it someone that looked like Simon?’
She swallowed and then nodded.
‘Did he have longish blond hair and wear a red shirt?’
Meredith nodded again.
Stunned, Cressy sat in the spare seat. ‘The man you saw had to be … Tanner.’
‘But that’s not the right name.’ Meredith’s voice was a mere whisper.
‘I know,’ Cressy said. ‘But he’s always reminded me of someone … it’s you. He has your eyes. He’s also just had a birthday hasn’t he?’ Cressy glanced across at Denham. ‘Didn’t you owe him a birthday drink?’
‘I did and do you know what the initials are on the monogrammed belt buckle he wore to the dinner … STC. People often use their middle name as their first name.’ Denham came to his feet. ‘There’s only one way to know for sure, I’ll call him.’
Cressy held Meredith’s shaking hand in silence as Denham seemed to be gone for a lifetime. When he returned, the smile in his eyes confirmed the truth before his words did. ‘It’s him and he wants to see you.’
***
The drive out to old man Collins’s farm was heavy with emotion and unvoiced fears.
‘It will be okay.’ Denham turned to Meredith after he’d parked in front of the weatherboard farmhouse. ‘Tanner’s a kind, decent man just like his father. He’ll understand why you couldn’t keep him.’
The front door opened and Tanner stepped out onto the veranda. Tall and broad-shouldered, Cressy could now see what else had appeared familiar about the drover. He and Denham carried themselves the same way.
Meredith pushed open the ute door and slowly walked over to where Tanner waited for her on the garden path. Cressy and Denham remained in the car to give mother and son their privacy. As Meredith touched Tanner’s face, Cressy sniffled. Denham drew her close and kissed her. When Cressy next looked, Tanner and Meredith had their arms linked and were walking inside.
She blinked away her tears and turned to Denham. ‘How did you know Tanner stopped here at Woodlea not just to lease a farm but also to look for his mother?’
‘It was just a hunch. I noticed at the rodeo dinner he’d scan the crowd as if looking for someone. Then when I called him I knew for sure. He said the only information he had about his birth mother was that she’d come from a small country town with a church bell tower.’
‘Which thankfully was all he needed to know to bring him here. In the kitchen … you almost seemed to know Meredith had a son?’
‘Yes.’ Denham’s arm tightened around her. ‘I must have been about six when I went with Mum to see her. Meredith had a fever and when I hugged her she called me Simon and said a day hasn’t passed when she hadn’t missed me or loved me. As a child her words didn’t make any sense. But they stayed with me.’ A grin chased away his pain at what his aunt had suffered being separated from her child. ‘How about we leave them to get to know each other? This day has been a long time coming. We’ll get Tippy and head home.’
‘Yes. Let’s.’ Cressy smiled and curled a hand around Denham’s shoulder as he started the ute engine. ‘It’s been a busy day.’
She took a last look at the farmhouse as the sun slowly set, streaking the horizon in wide bands of crimson and gold. The new day they’d seen in at Will and Judith’s had been busy. But it’d been a new day that had brought with it many precious new beginnings.
EPILOGUE
The murmur of the river merged with Ella’s soft laughter as the vet skimmed rocks with Denham and Tanner. Cressy sat on the riverbank and watched as the trio took turns to skip the flat stones across the flowing water. She’d join them but she was on puppy-sitting duty. She wriggled her boot and a brown, fluffy puppy pounced on her foot.
‘You definitely take after your kelpie father, Juno, whoever he was. Your white poodle mother would never get so dirty.’
Cressy smiled as the puppy stilled, lowered himself to the ground and then bolted over to where Tippy sniffed at the water’s edge. Mrs Knox mightn’t know it but it looked like she’d bred a prize working dog. Juno’s herding instincts were already obvious and Denham would need a good dog to work those rodeo cattle of his. A second puppy had gone to Will and Judith and he too showed the same potential. Will had started knitting the pups two warm woollen coats for winter.
Since Tanner and Denham had discovered they were cousins their mutual friendship and respect had grown into a business partnership. Denham handled the breeding of the rodeo bulls and Tanner the horse training. The first of Reggie’s offspring were soon due to arrive and Meredith had planted a bed in Claremont’s vegetable garden full of carrots. Reggie remained contented with his rodeo harem and there’d been no more attempts to ride him.
Cressy glanced over to where Meredith and Phil sat close together on a picnic rug. Phil continued to fight for the long paddock and was hopeful a solution to the future management of the travelling stock routes would be achieved. No longer did Cressy glimpse the sadness Meredith had worked so hard to hide. Instead, when she and Tanner smiled at each other, Cressy only saw the older woman’s deep happiness. Phil, Meredith and Tanner now lived in the main homestead on Claremont. Denham had moved into Glenmore the night they’d picked Tippy up from Ella’s and had never left.
Cressy whistled to Juno as he strayed too near the horses tied at the fallen tree where she’d hitched her ponies as a child. Flame, Jazz and Arrow wouldn’t care if the inquisitive puppy played beneath their feet. She looked a little further to the left where Bandit gave the puppy a warning look. The buckskin gelding wouldn’t be so tolerant.
She whistled again and the puppy bounced to her side, dragging a stick along with him. He lay against her leg to chew the wooden end. An eagle floated overhead and she followed its flight over the river flats towards Glenmore. No longer did the landscape turn from a lush green to a parched brown. Instead the hills of her beloved home rippled with pasture and a garden now surrounded the homestead. When she’d signed the papers to rejoin the river flats to Glenmore it’d been as though the lifeblood of the historic property had been restored. The rains came and then kept on coming.
The old bank statements had provided the answer as to why the river flats had been sold. Her father had been a gambler whose addiction had spiralled out of control. All the years he visited her and Fliss at their Sydney school had been an excuse to attend the city races. The irony hadn’t been lost on Cressy. Her father had appeared to care and yet had almost lost everything. Denham’s father had appeared to not care and yet he’d been the one to safeguard her and Denham’s futures.
As much as Glenmore was no longer in a pocket drought, Fliss’s man drought continued. She used the excuse she was too busy organising Cressy and Denham’s wedding for a relationship. Cressy looked over at Ella who now stood apart from Denham and Tanner to stare into the river. Ella too remained single and it would take a special man to help her move past her broken heart. No longer did Shaun’s life revolve around the blonde vet, instead he and Brooke were tipped to be the next couple the church bell would ring out in celebration for.
Denham turned to smile at her and her breathing quickened. She still hadn’t mastered being near her bull-riding cowboy and remaining unaffected. Their life together couldn’t be any sweeter and it would only get better. The secrets and darkness that had eaten away at the core of the Rigby family had lost their power.
Each week she went to town with Denham. They took fresh flowers and visited the cemetery to pay their respects to the family members who’d come before them. Denham would have a quiet moment by his father’s and brother’s graves and the sight would always make her heart swell. Out of so much loss and heartache had come so much hope and happiness.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The Long Paddock is a story that has been woven from the scents, sights and sounds of my everyday life. While Woodlea, the town of windmills, is fictitious, the landscape surrounding the town and the experiences of the community who live there are grounded in reality.
I love living in the central west of New South Wales and can’t imagine raising my family anywhere else. We live on a small farm where we grow winter oats and graze cattle. Our menagerie of animals, and the natural beauty around us, never fails to inspire me — even though one brown snake swimming in our pool is enough for inspiration, along with one grassfire. I hope never to see smoke in our front paddock again.
Last summer, rain was scarce and as the pastures withered and faded, I’d often drive through mobs of cattle grazing on the roadside verges. It was from such a sight that The Long Paddock took shape. Concern has grown over the management and future of the 6,500 travelling stock routes that criss-cross New South Wales. In the nineteenth century the corridors of crown land were used to walk herds to interstate markets or in between properties. Now the livestock highways sustain stock during tough times, provide valuable habitats for native wildlife, contain a historical significance plus cater for recreational activities. In Dubbo a lobby group has been established to address their long-term management as well as to ensure their longevity. A further local concern centres on rural mental health and this too was an issue I wanted to touch upon. Droughts can parch more than the earth and bushfires can burn more than windmill grass.
Once I had my story idea, other aspects of my country life entwined themselves with the central plot. On a drive back from Molong, I visited the local cemetery, as well as the nearby campdraft, and I knew my hero would be a cowboy returning to the town he’d left behind. Yarn bombers had decorated trees in Dubbo’s main street and the colours and textures soon found their way into my story.
There really is a Dinner Under the Stars, held in the small town of Gulargambone as a local fundraiser. The evening is a beautiful one, complete with fairy lights and a warm sense of community. Further down the road there is the town of Coonamble, where their rodeo and campdraft draws a colourful crowd and a car park full of dusty utes. On a Sunday, the cowboys do wear pink to raise money for breast cancer.
The mini-tornado that features at the end of my story did take place in Dubbo. I happened to be in a small aeroplane, coming back from a writers’ conference, and will never forget the air turbulence or the brooding black horizon.
As for Reggie, the Brahman bull abandoned as a calf, it warms my heart to say that after I wrote The Long Paddock I discovered such a bull does exist. His story may be different, and he may snore at night, but there are real people who have given a misjudged bull a forever home just like Cressy did.
Happy reading and I hope you enjoyed spending time in Woodlea as much as I enjoyed bringing this small, close-knit, rural community to life.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
It is often said it takes a village to raise a child. It is also true it takes a village to bring a book to life. I’d like to thank Sue Brockhoff, Rachael Donovan, Laurie Ormond, Julia Knapman and the talented team at Harlequin Australia, for all of their wisdom, hard work and expertise. It has been such a pleasure working with everyone. I’d also like to thank my writing buddies, Allison Butler, Rachael Johns and Mel Teshco for always being there at the end of an email. Writing can be a solitary pursuit and your friendship is always much appreciated. Thanks also to my four children, Adeline, Angus, Callum and Bryana, who have accompanied me on countless research road trips. And finally thanks to my husband, Luke, whose support and encouragement provides constant hero inspiration.
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First Published 2017
First Australian Paperback Edition 2017
ISBN 9781489214560
The Long Paddock
© 2017 by Alissa Callen
Australian Copyright 2017
New Zealand Copyright 2017
Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilisation of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
