A Changing Land(39)
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 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.’