A Changing Land(46)
Sarah crunched brittle lawn under her riding boots as Bullet completed a triple roll on the grass. He trotted back to where Ferret limped slowly from around the corner of the house, gave an encouraging bark and rushed back to Sarah. The grass, fragile from three consecutive frosts, was now pale. Like the surrounding countryside, most of the plant life was dormant. Sarah walked to the far end of the garden where the fence was bordered by towering cacti. Bullet trailed her, snapping at imaginary insects and sniffing at the base of peeling lattice which, in the warmer months, provided support for a trailing potato vine. Turning from the paddock, she looked back towards the homestead. Sarah could imagine her great-grandfather, Hamish, reclining on the verandah. At the thought, her gaze was drawn to the oldest part of the house, the original bedrooms. She shook her head. Only she would imagine a shadow at a window. As if agreeing, Bullet barked and then busied himself snuffling at a group of geranium-filled pots clumped next to a wooden garden seat.
There was no breeze and the trees were quite still. She held her palm millimetres from the surface of a lemon-scented gum and, closing her eyes, sensed the energy hovering beneath her skin. Beneath the ground the tree’s roots travelled for many metres, spreading out like tentacles to suck up every available millimetre of water around them. She gazed through the shrubs and hedges, imagining the gravel drive that, up until fifty years ago, had been the main entrance into the homestead. What, she wondered, would her ancestors have made of Anthony’s project? Certainly they cleared Wangallon. With teams of men, axes in hand, they had cut a swathe through the more heavily timbered areas allowing grasses to grow, homes, yards and fences to be built, and in return the country became more productive, more fertile.
Sarah’s grandfather had referred to this massive undertaking as the civilising of the bush, yet in the same breath he’d laughed at his use of the word. The Gordons knew no one could tame this land. It was intimately tied to the vagaries of the weather. After a small flood in low-lying areas, the belahs would grow up thickly across paddocks already selectively cleared maybe twice in this decade alone. The cost of keeping such paddocks clear of regrowth was both costly and time consuming and if left unattended, would render a paddock useless: The woody plants would decrease natural pasture, decrease stocking rates and ultimately become a breeding ground for feral pigs and the kangaroos that could eat out a paddock in months if they were not culled annually.
Yet the large scale clearing of Boxer’s Plains did not sit easily with her. She could see the benefits Matt pointed out, but apart from the all-consuming and limiting factor of cost, large scale cropping wasn’t in their blood; conservative grazing was and had been since the property’s settlement. That was the reason for Wangallon’s longevity. Boxer’s Plains was also the last property the Gordons had ever purchased and that made it important in the family’s history, although for some inexplicable reason Sarah also knew it was a special place. It just shouldn’t be touched. Her stomach knotted. All these thoughts were compounded by Anthony’s actions. He’d kept the proposed plan from her and in doing so fractured the basis of their love by destroying the trust between them. Through the fence two wallabies were nibbling grass. They were timid, reclusive creatures, preferring the scrub to the open. For a moment Sarah wished that she too could duck back into the bush to hide.
Anthony walked around the corner of the homestead. His arrival was heralded by Bullet who barked twice.
‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you,’ Anthony said with a touch of annoyance in his voice.
He looked harassed. His hat was cocked back on his head and there were hollows beneath his usually clear eyes. Sarah readied herself for an argument as she walked towards him, aware that by now Anthony would know that she had stopped the clearing. They met halfway near an orange tree, the silence magnified as Bullet scruffed the lawn before sitting next to Sarah, his paw resting on her riding boot. Anthony stared at her strangely.
Sarah folded her arms across her chest, all thoughts of discussing the situation rationally disappearing. ‘How long did you actually think you would be able to keep your new project a secret?’
‘New project?’
Sarah let out an agitated sigh. ‘The dozers at Boxer’s Plains? Did you honestly think you could get away with such a major undertaking without discussing it with me first, and what the hell would make you launch off and do something like that? Did you not give any consideration as to how it will affect Wangallon? We can’t afford such a massive undertaking, apart from the fact I’m not interested in growing bloody wheat!’