Hope's Road Read online

  ‘I don’t know what to think, Tammy.’ He ducked down to check on Billy again. ‘Look, how about we take a break?’ To his credit, he sounded almost apologetic. It was the gentleman in him again. ‘She won’t stay long.’ She had never heard him sound so bitter. ‘I just don’t want Billy hurt. And I don’t want him blaming you.’

  His hand came from nowhere to lightly stroke her cheek. The strong but gentle fingers tracing patterns on her skin. What emotions other than anger were travelling through him? In the darkness she couldn’t read his face.

  But there was one thing she did know with certainty. He’d made up his mind to concentrate on his son and she couldn’t fault him for that. Anything she said now was unlikely to move him. Damn Katrina to hell for coming back.

  ‘I understand,’ said Tammy. The words came out stiff and stilted. She tried again, ‘I understand, Trav. I really do.’ And she did. She didn’t want to understand but she did.

  ‘You do?’ He dropped his hand from her cheek.

  ‘Of course. Guess I’ll just be seeing you around then.’

  She wanted to jump into his arms and yell, ‘Don’t go, don’t leave me, even for a minute. Tell Billy the truth and start building him a real family!’ but instead she turned towards the gate. ‘Thanks for the ride in and out.’

  Even though she knew he was just asking for time, she felt as rejected as she had by Shon, by Old Joe back when she was a kid . . . by Mae, for whom she could never replace the lost daughter. C’mon, McCauley, keep walking, you can do it. Goddamn it. One foot after the other. Just get the hell inside and let the man do what he has to do.

  ‘I’ll still be staking out the dog,’ he called down the path. ‘I’ll give you a yell if I see anything.’

  She threw out a hand in acknowledgement but didn’t turn round. Not until she heard the car engine crank over and the set of tyres crunching on the gravel. He drove off, down the long drive, out onto Hope’s Road and towards McCauley’s Hill.

  Only then did she finally allow herself to cry.

  Chapter 41

  ‘Billy wants me and Katrina to try again,’ said Trav, cradling a mug of coffee and listening to the rain on the corrugated iron roof.

  Joe gave a snort.

  ‘I told him it doesn’t work like that,’ he continued, ‘but he wouldn’t listen. The kid is so bloody excited he’s finally found his mum.’

  ‘Yes, but for how long?’

  ‘That’s what Tammy said.’

  ‘Mmm . . . that’s interesting.’

  ‘You reckon? You’re both cut from the same cynical cloth.’

  ‘Us? Hardly.’ Joe gave another snort.

  There was silence for a while as Trav blew on then slurped at his coffee. Cripes, the old man made the stuff hot. A bit like Billy’s newfound temper.

  No! Today, not tomorrow! Take me to see her now!

  Joe cleared his throat, breaking into Trav’s reverie.

  ‘Look, I know I’m a negative old bastard . . . and you don’t have to nod your head. But, Hunter, these are the facts, short and curly. She up and walked out on you. Left a toddler in its bed, for fuck’s sake. She’s not fit to have a pet, let alone a kid like yours.’

  ‘She might have changed.’

  ‘She might,’ said Joe, nodding, but his tone was disbelieving.

  ‘I don’t need to try again with her, do I?’ said Trav quietly. ‘For Billy’s sake?’

  ‘Don’t be so bloody stupid. Can’t you get it through your thick skull? Marriage is hard enough when you’re in love. And anyway, she did it once, she’s perfectly capable of doing it again.’

  ‘You didn’t hear him, Joe.’ Or see the look of utter determination in the child’s eyes. She’s my mum. You owe me. I want my family back.

  ‘Where does Tammy fit into all this then?’

  Trav’s eyes snapped towards the old man. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, you’ve been keeping company with her a fair bit.’

  Trav’s sharp intake of breath must have been audible.

  ‘C’mon, Hunter. What do you think, an old man can’t see things?’

  ‘I didn’t realise it was that obvious.’

  Joe gave another snort and looked away.

  Trav sighed. He didn’t want Katrina. He could never trust let alone love her again. He had been so hurt last time. And now there was this thing with Tammy. ‘Tammy was good last night. Said she understood. I guess she meant about Billy.’

  Joe nodded. ‘She’d sure know all about that. Was probably wishing it was Natalie returned from the dead.’

  Trav moved uncomfortably, remembering how in his anger he’d thrown Tammy’s own loss at her. She didn’t even know he knew Natalie was dead.

  ‘What did you say about you and her?’

  ‘That we’d better give it a break. See what happened.’

  Joe rocked his chair a bit. His thoughts sheltered behind an impassive old face. Eventually he said, ‘Women. They’re a different breed,’ and he reached a hand down to stroke Boots, who was leaning against his knee. ‘I’m not concerned about you and Tammy, so much as the boy. You’re both big and ugly enough to make your own mistakes, but that child is special.’

  ‘Yeah, he is.’ And he really meant it. He gazed out across the verandah rail. Mount Cullen and the Burdekin Gap were shrouded in grey; the whole valley was drowning in water. The bloody rain had started after they’d all got home from the disastrous opening and just wouldn’t let up.

  ‘How long’s she stayin’?’asked Joe.

  ‘Not sure. She didn’t say.’

  ‘I’ll bet she didn’t.’

  ‘What do you mean by that exactly?’

  ‘You be careful’s all I’m saying. And take care with that child. Now, what are you doin’ about the attacks on them calves?’

  The change of subject threw Trav for a moment. ‘I’ll keep staking the paddocks out even in this rain. I reckon the dog might have gone for a wander around its patch. That, or it’s just laying low, waiting for a chance. They’re sneaky bastards and clever enough to wait it out until you’re gone.’

  ‘You be out early tomorrow? Want me to have Billy?’

  Trav was surprised at how eager Joe sounded. Damn it, he was going to have to disappoint him again. Trav cleared his throat. ‘Ummm . . .’

  ‘Well, c’mon. If you got somethin’ to say, say it,’ said Joe.

  Geez, why did it all have to be so hard? It was a lot easier when it was just him and the kid. ‘Billy and me are going into town this arvie. We’re picking up Katrina. Probably bring her out here, show her around, take her back and have some tea somewhere. The boy’s at home now sorting out his stuff to show her. I’ll be late home, and Billy’ll be with me so I won’t go out in the morning.’ Trav stopped. Joe’s face was scrunched into a frown. ‘The kid wants to know his mother, Joe, and I have to run with that, regardless.’

  ‘Since when did you develop a conscience?’

  Fuck it! Joe could hardly bloody talk. How dare he be so judgemental? Trav stood up, put down his cup and turned on the old man. ‘I’ve always had a goddamned conscience. That’s why I brought the kid here, to a place where he could set down roots, have a place he could call home. And that’s why I brought my mother back where she belonged. My brother was going to put her in a nursing home in Adelaide. Wanted me to send Billy to a hostel for kids whose parents lived remote. I wasn’t going to do it. So I left my job on the fence and came back here.’

  ‘You neglect your kid and then, just when you realise what a good father you can be, when your life’s just getting on track, you welcome his shitty mother back? Yeah right, that’s not a conscience. That’s just fuckin’ stupidity.’

  ‘You bastard!’ spat Trav. ‘I’m not welcoming her back!’

  Joe tried to stand up, couldn’t. But that didn’t stop his ti
rade. ‘Yes, you are – you want to be the man – to fix what you broke back then – and you can’t. You’re only thinking about yourself. You’ve only ever thought about yourself. That child’s going to get hurt, Hunter, and it’s your bloody job to make sure it doesn’t happen.’

  Trav didn’t want to hear any more. He shot Joe a look of near hatred, turned on his heels and walked off, headed for his ute.

  He could hear the old man shouting from behind him. ‘That woman is trouble with a capital T. She’ll just cut and run for the hills. You’ll see!’

  Chapter 42

  Hours later and Joe McCauley was still pissed off. He’d been having trouble seeing through the rain, which had got even heavier since Hunter had left in a huff.

  The bloody stuff had been coming down all morning with hardly a break in between showers. He wasn’t going to be able to pick any bunnies off in this fuckin’ weather. A rabbit would have to be mad to be out in it. And what’s more, it looked like the rain was coming in from the east, which meant it could be here for a while. Them buggers that forecast the weather very rarely managed to predict this sort of stuff.

  He spotted a flash of white, way off in the distance. It seemed to be coming towards the Hill. He grabbed his gun and brought the scope to his eye. Hunter. Comin’ back from town. And there was a red-haired woman in the passenger seat. Joe snorted, wondering what the high-falutin artist would think of Hunter’s shack at Belaren. It wasn’t what this woman would be used to. Darn it, he was feeling a bit edgy this mornin’. Must be all the rain. At least an inch had come down since yesterday. He sat a while, looking out across the flats. They weren’t their normal emerald green today, that’s for sure. More grey, with wisps of white around the edges where the low clouds were skimming the tops of the foothills that rimmed the valley.

  It was still beautiful. But in a different sort of way. It made his home on top of the hill seem almost cosy, especially with the fire going in the kitchen, and it wasn’t often he could say that. Usually the old shack was as uncomfortable as a twisted gumboot, especially now Nellie was gone. Not as cold as Montmorency used to be though. With that thought his mind floated to places he usually preferred not to visit. Tom and Mae. More Tom than Mae, really. Lately he’d been thinking a lot about his brother. Even wished he could see him again. Maybe have a yarn, bury a hatchet or two, or three. It was funny how time and age made you see things in a different light.

  He put down the gun and rubbed his hands together to get the blood running through his fingers. They were numb from sitting out here in the moist, cool air. He didn’t want to go inside though. Four walls felt encroaching even on a day like today. Maybe a cup of tea would be the answer, to settle both the edginess and the cold.

  Joe staggered to his feet and slowly shuffled his way into the house. Placed a worn old black cast-iron kettle on the kitchen stove. While the water boiled he took a milk coffee biscuit from an old Arnotts tin, with its Rosella parrot emblazoned on the lid. Nellie had loved that tin.

  A wisp of air seemed to pass by his cheek. An angel’s kiss, maybe? It was a nice thought, and he found himself strangely comforted by the idea his wife might be in the room.

  Filling his mug, he grabbed another couple of biscuits to share with the dogs, and shuffled back to the verandah.

  Digger was nowhere to be seen, but Boots put his shaggy head up and thumped his tail. At least someone was good company today, even if it was only a dog who’d spied a biscuit in his hand. Maybe the radio would be a help. Joe leaned over and flicked the knob on the old Bakelite radio he had sitting beside him.

  ‘Heavy rainfall is expected over Gippsland during the weekend. Falls of one hundred to two hundred millimetres are expected, with higher totals likely in East Gippsland and across the ranges. There is a minor flood warning current for the Narree River downstream of Narree . . .’

  Well, that was hardly surprising with all this shit bucketing down. Joe brought the mug of tea up to his lips and felt the warmth of the liquid fill his mouth, his throat and then slowly, ever so slowly, seep into his stomach. The warmth of it was comforting, soothing even. As was the dog at his feet, chewing happily on the biscuit he’d been given. Joe dunked his own into the dark brown brew and munched away. He felt the tendrils of contentment seep into his bones, his muscles relaxing. Finally his edginess seemed to melt away.

  His mind drifted, flitting from one thing to the next. He fed Boots another biscuit. Thank God for Lucy Granger. She’d left him and Boots enough tucker to sink the boat that would be needed to get out of here if this wet stuff didn’t ease up.

  Joe chuckled as he brought his cuppa back up to his lips. Miss Granger sure was a square peg in a round hole. He wondered if she’d go through with her new idea for her ideal partner. He mentally shook himself. Why was he even pondering the wherefores of these people who’d snuck into his life? But then he recalled the scene on his verandah the night before and that gave him another little chuckle. Poor Deano. He hadn’t known which way to jump when Jacinta Greenaway had started making a play for him. Although to be honest, Joe was happy enough to see Gibson taken off the market. He didn’t want him to come sniffing around Tammy again. Not while Travis Hunter was available.

  But he’s not available, Joseph. And there she was. Old Nellie. Infallible as always. Telling him what he didn’t want to hear.

  Course he’s available. This woman will piss off like they always do and it’ll all be right as rain. Back to the way we were.

  Whatever that was.

  Joseph, you are a cynical old man. This is the mother of his child!

  Nellie had always been a bit touchy when it came to mothers and their kids. That’s why she’d wanted him to make up with Tom and Mae, especially after they lost Natalie. But he didn’t want to. Not then.

  A waft of icy air came spilling across the verandah, upsetting the plastic dog bowl near the screen door. The dish went skittering across the wooden boards, rattling its way down the steps to land in the mud at the bottom. Boots jumped at the sudden noise, whimpered and then huddled into Joe’s legs, coming to rest on the man’s socks.

  Joe grabbed at his mug, seeking the comfort of its now fading warmth.

  Crikey, Nellie. You’re scaring the shit out of us.

  But there were no answers coming from his late wife. All the old man could hear was the rhythmic sound of raindrops falling on tin. Joe finished his cuppa and biscuit, then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. A nap might be in order. Nothing much else was going on. Boots, sprawled at his master’s feet, agreed.

  Joe woke to the sound of a ute roaring towards the T intersection. What the hell? He must have dozed off. He glanced at his watch. Even though the sky was getting darker it was just going on a quarter past four. He grabbed his gun and took a look through the scope at the vehicle. Hunter. It was a bit early to be heading back into town for tea. Maybe they were coming to see him? Hardly. Not after this morning’s little effort. Perhaps they were just going for a drive? But where to in this weather?

  The ute headed steadily past the front gate of Montmorency and continued on into the gloom. In the grey smudges of misty water he could just make out an amber-coloured blinker light. They were going right, heading towards Narree. Well I’ll be darned, he thought. So much for Billy showing her around.

  Hang on. There was another amber light in the glass. It was coming this way though. Dang it, what a busy place Hope’s Road was today. Joe settled back into his chair, scope still glued to his eyeball. This one was creeping up the tar towards the hill, stealth like. Slowly it moved along until it traversed the whole road, past Montmorency, through the low-level, up to the T intersection and then it disappeared from view. Joe hoped to hell it hadn’t turned in his direction. If it headed right, the only place it could come was to his driveway. He strained to hear a motor over the rain pounding on his tin roof. Nope. He couldn’t hear a darn thing. But then the vehicle
reappeared. Obviously hadn’t gone towards Hunter’s Belaren either. It had a whole load of stuff in the back. Big yellow boards. Some star pickets. What was it doing? It had gone right back to the start of Hope’s Road. Stopped on the corner. Two blokes got out, dressed in a big black Akubras and Driza-Bone coats. One pulled some pickets out of the ute tub, another a ­sledgehammer.

  Joe pulled the sight back from his eye – things were blurring in the wet. He blinked a few times then had another go. By now both blokes had wrestled one of the big signs out. They were putting a frame of some sort together. The star pickets came next, hammered in nice and easy with the soft ground.

  Joe strained his eyes to see what the sign said, but it was no good. The angle wasn’t right as the words were facing the main road. Maybe it was one of those seed company signs advertising their wares on Montmorency, although he hadn’t seen any paddocks worked up of recent times. Perhaps it was a fertiliser mob instead?

  He continued to watch with interest as the men piled all their tools into the ute tray and drove back towards McCauley’s Hill. They stopped a second time right in front of the main gate leading into Montmorency. Out came the tools again, star-pickets and another big yellow sign. Joe pulled the sight back and blinked again, desperately wanting his vision to clear so he could see what the hell these men were up to.

  He pulled the gun sight up to his eyeball just as the sign was being hauled into the air on its frame.

  AUCTION PENDING

  MONTMORENCY DOWNS

  Historic Homestead

  First time offered.

  That was as far as he got.

  No!

  Joe tipped himself forwards in the chair violently and staggered to his feet. Threw the gun to the ground, not caring what damage that might do to his precious rifle. The bitch was selling up!

  He snatched at the rifle again, intent on a second look, but missed in his agitation and went sprawling, his out-of-kilter body taking little time to thump onto the boards.