Novels 02 Red Dust (6 page)

Chapter 9

Gemma looked at Bulla and Garry aghast. 'What do you mean you think the stolen sheep were here and now they're not?' They stood at the entrance to the shed, where they met every morning to talk about the day's work before heading off in different directions. But it wasn't often Gemma was dealt such bizarre news.

Bulla scratched his head. 'Well, I spotted a mob of about a thousand wether lambs yesterday just before lunch out in Reimer's paddock. We had things that were urgent to do yesterday out in other paddocks and when I went back this morning, the sheep were nowhere in sight.'

Gemma started to shake. She took a couple of deep breaths and tried to pull herself together. 'Right, I'll need to ring the police and let them know. We didn't have anything to do with it, so we have nothing to fear, right?'

'Yeah, right you are,' said Bulla doubtfully.

Neither of the policemen were available, so Gemma left a message and hung up. She was just about to head back outside when the phone rang.

'Hello?'

'Hello, lovely, what's happening?' asked Jess's happy voice.

'Jess, you wouldn't believe what's going on here. You always ring at the right time.' Gemma's voice cracked.

'What's wrong? It's not your dad, is it?'

'Not this time.' Gemma proceeded to fill her in on all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

Jess was silent for a while and then said, 'Right, this weekend you're coming to town. That festival Taste of the Outback is on and there's a jazz concert over at one of the wineries. We'll have a meal out under the stars, drink some wine and listen to some music. And on Saturday we can watch Brad play footy. It'll do you good to watch some guys running around in footy shorts.'

'I don't know, Jess . . .' Gemma's voice petered out. 'I can't leave unless Bulla and Garry are around to look after everything. You know that.' As an afterthought she added, 'Maybe Jack can.'

'That's sorted then. See you Friday . . . No arguments. See you at my house at five thirty. Don't be late!'

Gemma put the phone down and it rang again immediately, startling her.

'Gemma Sinclair?' she answered, expecting it to be the police returning her call.

'G'day, sis, you're sounding very professional there. What's up?' It was her brother's familiar voice.

'Patrick, oh it's so great to hear from you. Are you in Adelaide yet?'

'Not yet, but I'll be there late tonight. I've talked to Mum and everything seems okay. The hospital is just running more tests and Dad is comfy so all's good.'

'How're you getting up here?'

'I was thinking I'd hire a car, but now I reckon I'll catch the bus up to Pirie. I'll use a farm ute when I get there anyway. Can you meet me?'

'Yeah, no worries. Actually that'll fit in well. Jess has just talked me into going to a concert over at a winery, so I'll be in town already. When?'

'Probably Sund'y. I want to spend a bit of time with the folks, ya know?'

Gemma smiled as she hung up the phone. Despite the worry that shadowed her, the thought of having Patrick and his happy-go-lucky nature around was cheering.

Jack's mobile phone rang just as he was emptying the last of the rum into his glass. 'Bugger,' he swore as he spilt the amber liquid onto his jeans.

''Lo?'

'How's it going, Jack?'

'Great. I was gonna ring ya tonight. The widow's away for the weekend. I'm looking after everything on Billbinya and the other two are doing 'er old man's place so they'll be out of the way. Good time to get into the house, I reckon.'

'Good. Talk to you after you've done it. You know what you're looking for, don't ya?'

'I ain't stupid.' He skolled the rest of his drink and pulled another bottle from the cupboard.

Jack's bender lasted for the weekend. He had visited Gemma's house on Friday after the girls had left but hadn't gone in. Scoota had growled and then barked furiously as Jack had turned the handle. With a quarter of a bottle of rum already inside him, his urge to see the young jillaroo who could match him drink for drink grew. Jack and responsibility didn't go together and without thinking, he left the homestead and Billbinya and made the hour drive north to see her. He didn't return until Monday morning.

Chapter 10

Gemma and Jess were having a lovely night. The winery, set on the bank of a creek, was beautiful. Camp fires had been lit along the creek's edge, and next to the fires were old wine barrels that had been cut in half and filled with poinsettias and other flowering plants. Further out into the creek, spotlights had been placed beneath two old gum trees, and their ghostly limbs gave the scene an enchanted air.

The stage where the jazz band was setting up was covered in fairy lights.

'Wow,' Gemma breathed when she saw it.

'C'mon,' called Jess. 'Let's get set up.'

There were heaps of people milling around, setting up their picnic blankets or chairs; some carrying hampers, others going back and forth from the food and beer tents. The atmosphere buzzed with the anticipation of a special evening.

They had just set up their deckchairs next to a huge boulder and were taking the first sip of wine when they heard a voice behind them.

'Gem, Jess, hi!'

They turned to see Paige Nicholls clutching the arm of a tall blond man.

Gemma smiled warmly. 'Hello, Paige, enjoying a night off?'

'Yep, Daniel and I are looking forward to the concert. We used to see a lot of jazz bands when we lived in Melbourne, so this is a real treat. This is Daniel McDavis, by the way.' She snuggled in closer to the man, who nodded without smiling. 'How are you, Jess?' asked Paige.

'Fine thanks,' Jess said coldly.

Paige's smile faltered. 'Well, good to see you both. I guess we'll go find a spot.' She gave a small wave, and they were gone.

'I don't know how she has the guts to show her face around here,' said Jess furiously. 'After Claire's accident and Tim's suicide. I still can't believe she had an affair with Tim, right beneath our noses while pretending to be Claire's friend. I cannot stand that woman.'

'Jess, it was a long time ago,' Gemma said gently, 'and I'm sure if Paige had known what the outcome would be, she wouldn't have started the affair. And don't forget, she said she loved Tim too. I miss Claire and I hate what happened – but imagine what Paige must have suffered.'

Jess smiled. 'You always were a lot more forgiving than me.'

'I wasn't at the time, remember? I called her a harlot and all sorts of names. But I guess when you lose someone you love, it puts things in a different perspective.'

'Do you know what she's doing now?'

'Didn't I tell you? Sorry. She's a nurse. She was on duty at the hospital when I went in to see Dad.'

'Well, I don't know if leopards really can change their spots,' Jess said, standing. 'I'm off to find a loo. Can you get more drinks?'

Struck by a thought she turned back to Gemma and asked, 'Hey, did the cops call you back?'

Gemma shook her head. 'I don't know what's going on there. Not a sound from them. Maybe they've found the sheep and everything is okay. Who knows?'

Gemma weaved through the crowd to the bar, not stopping to talk to anyone, but nodding and smiling at people she knew. On the way back to their seats, she stopped off at the food tent and loaded up plates full of pork from the spit with vegies.

'Need a hand to carry that?'

Gemma turned to see Ned and his wife Rose. 'What are you doing here, Ned? Looking for some culture?' Gemma leaned forward to kiss Rose on the cheek. 'How are you, Rose?'

'Culture yourself. You're the one who never goes anywhere. Who dragged you along?' Ned asked gruffly.

Rose smacked his arm gently. 'Ned, mind your manners. How are you, Gemma? It's lovely to see you out and about.'

'It's looking like a great night. I'm here with Jess Rawlings, my friend from school. She thought I should get out more, so she dragged me along. Not really like the B & S's we used to go to, but I guess you have to grow out of them sometime!'

Bidding them farewell, Gemma hurried back to Jess. She handed Jess her plate, then moaned with delight through a mouthful of pork. 'I haven't eaten like this in so long.'

'That's 'cos you don't eat,' Jess retorted as the spotlights flashed on and off to signal the start of the show.

The chatter of the audience died away as the jazz band started to play. Gemma felt all the worries of the last few months begin to disappear as the musicians' fingers flew over keyboards and guitar strings.

At the interval, Gemma volunteered to refresh their drinks. While she waited for the queue at the bar to lessen, she stood looking into the embers of a dying fire, lost in the memory of the music. She didn't realise Ben was behind her until he spoke.

'Didn't recognise you without your work clobber on,' he said quietly. She spun around, and found herself staring straight at his chest. Looking up, she found his brown eyes regarding her curiously.

'G'day,' she managed. 'What are you doing here? Do you like jazz?'

'Not really, but I thought it would be a good place to meet people.'

'Definitely is. Most of the town is here, plus a heap from Adelaide and other towns by the looks. I guess these concerts are pretty big these days. People from the city seem to enjoy a country fix.'

'That they do.' Ben's eyes moved to look over her shoulder and Gemma felt a nudge.

'Hi,' Jess said around Gemma's shoulder. 'Who are you?'

Ben looked quizzically at Gemma, who just smiled blandly.

'Uh, I'm Ben.' He looked a little taken aback. 'Who are you?'

'I'm Jess Rawlings, Gemma's best friend, party partner and confidante. Nice to meet you.'

'Ah, I've heard about you. I met Brad at the pub a few nights ago. He managed to rope me into playing footy tomorrow.'

'That's wonderful, they need some people with talent – I hope you have some. They're the most dismal team I've ever seen. I don't think they've won a game this season. Can you kick goals?'

Gemma watched Jess with amusement. It was no wonder that she drew people to her; she had such an open and friendly manner.

Jess grabbed Gemma's arm. 'I've just had the best idea. Since we three know each other and Gem hasn't met Brad yet, let's all go out to dinner tomorrow night. We could check out the new bistro down on the seafront. Someone told me they serve the best pasta, and I haven't had a chance to try it yet. Apparently it's really hip.'

'Something is really "hip" in Pirie? I'd like to see that!' said Ben, laughing at Jess's enthusiasm.

Gemma smiled and said, 'Me too!'

'Right! That's settled. Tomorrow night it is. What?' asked Jess when she saw Ben shaking his head.

'I have plans tomorrow night. How about next weekend?'

'Sounds brilliant. Now I really have to drag Gem to the bar or I'll die of thirst and I won't make it to the footy tomor row, let alone next weekend. Enjoy the rest of the evening, Ben.'

'I'll talk to you during the week, Gemma, if I don't see you at the game tomorrow,' Ben said as he waved and moved into the crowd.

With light footsteps Gemma and Jess headed for the bar, Jess bombarding Gemma with questions. 'Who is he? Where's he from? How come I haven't heard about him? Man, he's a dream boat!'

Gemma let her friend rattle on, her gaze raking over the crowds of people, hoping to catch another glimpse of Ben – who had looked rather gorgeous in his moleskins, R.M. Williams boots, blue shirt and dark leather jacket – but he seemed to have disappeared into the smoke of the camp fires. Her gaze rested on two people and, before glancing away, she recognised them as Ned and Paige. Ned stood in the shadow cast by a tree. She couldn't see the look on his face, but Paige looked angry. Gemma watched them for a minute longer, wondering how Ned and Paige knew each other. Then she shrugged. It was a small town. Turning to Jess she told her that if she wanted to know about Ben then it was time to shut up and listen!

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur of fun and laughter. Eating out felt like a new experience to Gemma, it had been so long since she last had. The footy on Saturday brought back memories too. The cars were all parked around the oval, and Gemma found herself remembering things she'd long forgotten, like how everyone beeped their horns whenever someone kicked a goal, or how the teenage girls got so dressed up and hung over the rails of the oval waiting for the guys to notice them. The friendliness of the people who were there also startled Gemma. There were farmers and a lot of townspeople who remembered her and asked how she was, but no one pried or asked if she was going to sell her land.

She met the famous Brad, who was everything Jess had said he was. 'Brad, this is my very best friend, Gemma Sinclair. Gem, this is Brad – the best man in my life at the moment!'

'I've heard a lot about you, Brad – it's great to finally meet you.'

'The same goes, Gemma.' Brad shook her hand, smiling. 'I hear you're doing an amazing job out on Billbinya. I've been meaning to call in and say g'day, but there isn't a lot of call for an agro out your way. So we're off out to tea next Saturday? It'll be great to get to know you a bit better.'

On Sunday afternoon, Gemma went to the bus station to pick up Patrick. He alighted looking rather cramped up. 'Small seats for a big fella like me, sis,' he groaned in greeting, and gave her a hug.

Gemma looked up at his six-and-a-half-foot frame and the floppy blond hair he was always brushing out of his blue eyes. 'I always said you were too tall.'

'I always said you were too short.' He grinned in anticipation of the next line of their childhood game.

'I'm not short,' Gemma said huffily. 'I'm medium!' They laughed and hugged again.

Driving through the green-tinged hills of the Flinders Ranges, Gemma and Patrick talked about Pat's work breaking in horses in Queensland. They fell silent as Gemma turned down Rochden Road and they approached Hayelle, where Patrick would stay for the next few nights. Patrick smiled as he glimpsed the front gate. 'Home sweet home,' he murmured. As Gemma turned into the driveway, the old homestead came into view with the front dam and hills behind it. The gentle sloping hills were often brown and dry but, with this season's good rains, now glowed a bright green, with purple Salvation Jane flowers blooming and the occasional red of the hops weed.

They pulled up next to the small stone building that held the garage and laundry. The winding path to the house went past the laundry and across a rambling lawn to the sunroom built off the kitchen.

Patrick threw his bag on the floor of the kitchen and opened the fridge. Gemma smiled. That had been Pat's routine from the minute he'd been old enough to walk. The fridge was always full of Sarah's homemade goodies and Patrick had an appetite to match. He quickly moved from the fridge to the cupboard to the cake tin on top of the bench.

'So what's the go?' asked Patrick after establishing there wasn't much to eat. 'What can I do to help?'

'Well, I guess if you could just keep a bit of an eye on every thing here it means I can concentrate on what's going on at home.'

'No worries. Hows about we go for a drive now and you can tell me what's going on with everything?'

'Yep, righto. How long can you stay for, Pat?'

'Well, I'm my own boss, so I can basically have as much time as I need. But I won't be getting any money in either. Guess we'll just see how it goes, okay? We'll see what happens with Dad, make some more decisions then. I'm not staying forever, though, sis.' He gave her a long look.

Gemma nodded her understanding.

'Great. Okay, let's have a look around.'

* * *

It had been a while since she'd gone on a farm tour with her dad, and Gemma could see that things had gone downhill in the last few months. Fences weren't as tidy as usual, calves not marked when they should be, and it seemed that there was some work to do on the catchments of the dams. It was important to keep catchments up to scratch so any little rain that fell ran into dams to keep the precious water supplies up. Cattle drank a lot more than sheep. Gemma was lucky not to have water problems on Billbinya as she had underground water. Her main problem in dry times was feed for the animals.

It was quite strange to see Hayelle a bit rundown. Jake was a perfectionist, especially when it came to his stud bulls, and Gemma knew there was definitely something wrong when she came to the young bull paddock and saw there weren't any tags in their ears. There wasn't anything to say who the sire or dams of the young bulls were, and no identification numbers.

'This is a bit weird, Pat,' remarked Gemma. 'Dad is usually a bit more on top of things than this.'

'Yeah,' agreed Pat. 'I wasn't expecting this. There's a fair bit of work to do here.'

'Well, let's go back to the house and have a cuppa, and make a plan.'

Gemma drove back to Billbinya wondering what fresh horrors she might find waiting for her. But there weren't any messages on the answering machine, no new emails and no notes from Bulla or Garry to say that anything had gone wrong. Gemma sighed with relief, made herself some toast for tea and went to bed.

What a wonderful weekend, she reflected. No pressure, no back-breaking work. She wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to be able to farm a smaller place without any debt and pressure.

She also wondered why Hayelle was as far behind in the stock work. Couldn't her dad manage anymore? Was he sicker than she had been told? It was all a bit strange. The other strange thing was that the police had never returned her call. It looked like the whole problem was going to go away.