A Changing Land(90)
‘Righto. Just make sure they shut the gates behind them as they walk them through. I don’t want those young heifers getting out of their paddock in case one of the bulls gets in with them.’
‘I’ll double-check them myself. I heard about the clearing job.’
Anthony’s mouth hardened into a thick immovable line. ‘That was quick.’
‘Well Bruce was up at the pub last night talking about running out of fuel.’ Matt took a puff of his cigarette, shoved his spare hand in his pocket. ‘We both know that’s a tall one.’
Anthony shrugged and looked blankly at his head stockman. He wasn’t inclined to fill Matt in. He was only staff after all.
Matt grimaced, dropped his cigarette on the path and ground it flat. ‘Anyway, I just wanted to give you a piece of advice, mate.’
Anthony recalled Neville’s words from the day before; something about delusions of grandeur.
‘Just let things lie for a week or so, wait till this inheritance thing is cleared up. The Gordons are a rare breed, mate, and once they have a bee in their bonnet, well –’
‘I think I know the Gordons better than you.’
Matt looked at him with an air of disbelief. ‘It’s nothing personal, but you haven’t been around for as long as I have, Anthony. Geez, some of the stories I’ve heard.’
‘Yeah and in some of them,’ Anthony reminded him, ‘I’ve played a leading role.’
The expression on the older man’s face didn’t vary. ‘Not eighty years ago, not one hundred years ago. You don’t get it, do you? It’s all about the land. It’s only ever been about the land and their control of it. Sarah can’t help it.’ Matt sorted through the words in his brain. ‘It’s genetic.’
‘And you’re the expert?’ At this point all Anthony wanted to do was shut the door on both Matt and Wangallon.
‘You own a share, Anthony. But you’ll never own Wangallon, not the way Sarah does, because the property owns her. It’s in her. Look, I’m trying to help. It’s not my place to take sides.’
‘But you bloody well have, haven’t you?’
Matt looked at him for a long minute. He was starting to get pissed off. ‘If you’re asking me where my allegiance lies, then yes, it is to the Gordons: To Angus Gordon particularly.’
Anthony drew his eyebrows together. ‘He’s dead.’ He watched Matt walk away. He reckoned Neville was probably right about Mrs Kelly. Matt would have been the type of kid you needed to tie a chop bone to his ankle to get a dog to play with him.
Matt walked down the cracked cement path shaking his head as he went. He was annoyed with himself for the way he handled things, but even more surprised at Anthony. He knew Anthony was in an ordinary situation, but if he had a few brains he’d let sleeping dogs lie. Take off for a couple of days until Sarah got things sorted in Sydney. Yeah, that would be the smart thing to do.
Hooking the chain around the back gate, Matt called to Whisky. The dog was camped under the back tyre of his Landcruiser. He stretched and whined before falling in beside Matt like a well-trained foot soldier. ‘Things are starting to get a bit interesting,’ Matt commented to his dog, opening the driver’s side door. Whisky jumped in first.
‘You right?’
The dog positioned himself in the passenger seat, looked briefly at Matt before facing the windscreen.
‘Seems everyone has a bit of attitude today,’ Matt commented as he drove down towards the cattle yards. The new loading ramp had arrived yesterday and not before time. The previous one had seen thousands of head through it and been in need of an upgrade. The timber structure was so old that recently a charging steer managed to crash though one of the railings and one of the forcing gates that could be slid behind beasts to stop them backing up had broken off its hinges. Matt drove past the yards, admiring the shiny new metal. A good loading ramp was vital. It allowed the ease of movement of cattle in and out of the large road trains that transported them to market and also to various parts of the property when the distance to be covered was too far to walk.
Matt scratched his head, wondering what he’d really signed himself up for when he’d accepted this job. It sure wasn’t quite what he’d imagined. Whisky wangled himself across the seat of the Landcruiser, nuzzled in the crook of his arm.
‘Righto, mate. We’re off.’ Despite the situation Matt couldn’t stop a smile edging at the corner of his mouth. In a couple of days Edward Truss was due out to inspect some sale steers and tomorrow Jack and one of the contractors were helping to bring in the lambs. Matt wanted them drafted up and moved to a different oat paddock a good six weeks before they were to be sold. This time round he didn’t need to have a kitchen table conference about the proposed lamb sale or wait down at the yards until the ram buyer finished his cup of tea at the homestead. Reporting to a couple of young ones almost half his age and taking orders from Anthony remained a daily pain in the arse. Things would be a whole heap easier if Sarah was in charge.