Bilgarra Springs (14 page)

She heard the noise of the gates opening and closing and when she turned back she noticed that the cow had gone through into the yards with the ones that they were keeping and whilst the flow of blood has eased down, it hadn’t completely stopped and was landing on the cattle around the cow. Aurora turned her attention back to what she was doing. Her stomach was positively rolling and if what was in there stayed in there, she would be very surprised. She certainly didn’t feel too well.

Eventually the last one was put through and the ones staying let out into the large paddock beside the yards. Apparently, Matt was going to ride out after lunch and open the gate on the other side of the paddock and let them into another much larger paddock. The truck for the ones that they were selling was due straight after lunch, and as it was almost lunch time now, the whole group wandered in to the courtyard. Aurora did her best to try and avoid Keith and headed for the kitchen figuring that was one place he probably wouldn’t follow.

Lunch turned out to be a noisy affair, as usual. Aurora was finding that she was getting used to the noise and activity of being surrounded by a lot of people. If someone had told her that she would enjoy it a couple of weeks ago she would have laughed at them. She figured she would adapt to her solitary life again when she went home.

When the truck for the cattle arrived after lunch she went and sat on the top rail of one of the yards, out of the way, to watch them load. Only Rick and Callan were needed and the others had wandered off to do their own thing for a while. Mike had come and perched beside her, not talking a lot, but throwing in the odd comment here and there. Aurora hadn’t had much to do with him so far. He was really young, she guessed early twenties, and seemed genuinely nice, but he wasn’t an extrovert and in a group that already had a few of those, he seemed to get lost.

Very quickly it seemed to Aurora the cattle were loaded, both decks full and the truck departing. She felt a twinge of guilt knowing that they were destined to be eaten, but logically thinking, meat didn’t just appear on the supermarket shelves or in the butchers, so it had to come from somewhere. As the truck departed, Mike had wandered off, and Rick and Callan had disappeared into the shed, so Aurora made her way back to the kitchen. She hoped she was feeling a little less sore tomorrow.

She found Trudy in the kitchen alone, head back against the back of the chair, eyes closed, a cup of tea on the table. Trudy opened her eyes and lifted her head as Aurora walked in.

‘They already finished out there?’

‘Sure have. It was quicker than I thought it would be.’

‘This lot of cattle obviously did what they were supposed to. Sometimes you get the odd one that gives the boys merry hell.’

After this morning’s antics, Aurora could well imagine but said nothing.

‘I s’pose Rick has gone over to the shed to hide.’

By Trudy’s raised eyebrow Aurora guessed that this was a regular occurrence. She simply smiled and nodded.

‘That’s his hidey-hole. Any spare time and that is where you will find him. Usually Cal as well.’

Aurora’s smirk gave away the fact that Trudy was spot-on in her guess.

‘That pair are workaholics. Any time off and they scuttle over there.’

Trudy sat up and rested her arms on the edge of the table. Aurora eased herself down onto one of the chairs.

‘The crew worked through the two weekends before you arrived. We had a heap to do and it had to be done then, but it has worked out well as the Calvin wedding is on Saturday, a couple of properties over, which is where Theresa has disappeared to. They are furiously fitting and sewing her bridesmaid dress, along with the other one, today and tomorrow. This arvo everybody is pottering around doing their own thing and tomorrow we are going over there for the pre-wedding barbecue...’

Trudy’s mouth flattened a little and she shook her head a tiny bit, rolling her eyes.

‘The barbecue will become a drinking fest, a sort of combined buck’s and hen’s night, which if prior experience is anything to go by, will probably pull up just before dawn. All of us and one of the other neighbouring stations are staying Friday and Saturday nights, the other guests will arrive some time Saturday. The wedding itself is late afternoon on Saturday, and the process will be repeated again that night. We will start wandering home on Sunday, subject of course to sore heads etc. ‘

Trudy could see the apprehension on Aurora’s face.

‘You should enjoy it. They are a fun group of people and we have known them forever.’

Trudy smiled. Aurora didn’t look convinced. Trudy wrapped both hands around the mug of tea.

‘If there is something that you want to do this afternoon, feel free. You are welcome to stay out here if you want. I intend to sit around and do absolutely nothing until dinner.’

Trudy doubted that Aurora would hang around. She had that restless look about her, leading Trudy to think that she had something that she wanted to be doing and it wasn’t sitting around doing nothing.

‘I think I might go and lie down and read for a bit. That doesn’t require too much movement.’

Trudy laughed.

‘No worries. I will be around here somewhere if you get bored.’

Aurora pushed herself up out of the chair, grimacing as her muscles protested. Trudy smirked and Aurora couldn’t help but smile at her.

Aurora made her way down the hallway. Once inside her room she sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed. It had been a tiring day so far. Her muscles were sore and she was uncomfortable. Then there had been the incidents with the cattle. Having to side-step Cal’s questions at lunch time had taken a lot out of her too. For probably the thousandth time she wondered why she couldn’t have had the usual, run-of-the-mill, type past. For her, answering questions in a way that didn’t invite more questions was an art form. As far as she was concerned it had been a day full of near misses.

ten

B
lack
&
W
hite

Time to herself during the day out here was a luxury and Aurora thought that she would definitely make the most of it. She very awkwardly moved from the bed over to the chest of drawers and pulled out the
journal. She repositioned herself on the bed, this time sitting propped up against the pillows, and opened it up to the last entry that she had read. It was the entry where her grandmother was sore from riding. She could understand well what her grandmother had meant when she said ‘each time I move, sit or walk at the moment they are paining me. The thought of getting back on for more of the same tomorrow fills me with dread’
.
Fortunately for Aurora there was no question of having to get back on today or tomorrow. For small mercies she was thankful.

She turned the page to the next entry, dated three days after the last.

20
^th
January 1946

What exhilaration. I do not know what could possibly compare to the feeling once I return home. The freedom of being on horseback, the vastness of the land and the knowledge that I am experiencing the world of the infamous and celebrated drovers, albeit on a much smaller scale. We didn’t have to move the cattle great distances and we were only out there for days and not weeks, but I cannot adequately describe it. Words simply cannot do justice to the feeling of complete and unfettered liberty. Three days of heaven. My legs and backside were still intolerably sore but that small discomfort was more than outweighed by the pleasure of the experience. I was amazed at the agility and the courage of the riders. They took off at a gallop through country thick with trees full of low limbs, dodging and weaving. Nothing was an obstacle over
rocks or fallen trees, straight over the edge of long drops. They were amazing to watch. The intelligence of the horses surprised me as they anticipated and predicted the movements of the cattle. The rider and the horse form a formidable team borne from years of experience. I was content to trail along at the rear and observe. I have not the same fearlessness that they possess. Hellequin, with whom I have formed an unlikely alliance, was straining at the bit, quite literally, to be amongst the action. I was very much not inclined to join in and it took considerable amounts of concentration on my part to keep him firmly under control. I would have laughed at anybody that had told me that I would enjoy sleeping on the ground under the stars. It quite simply would not have been within the wildest imaginings of our acquaintances and friends in Sydney. Yes, the ground is harder than the lovely mattress on my bed at my parent’s house, but the stars...the stars were something else. An uninterrupted view as far as the eye can see of twinkling sequins set in velvet. It was absolutely breathtaking. The camaraderie and fellowship around the campfire was enjoyable. The yarns and poetry were far more enjoyable than some of the most lavish productions that have been put
on at Her Majesty’s Theatre. The talk may well have been more bawdy had Fiona and I not been there. Normally just the men head out, but they thought that being a city dweller I may enjoy the experience, so Fiona came along, as otherwise, I would have been the only female in the group and as a married woman that would not have been appropriate. It was the most enjoyable experience that I have been blessed to have. The dust, the flies, the sore muscles, the hot sun it was all very much worth the effort and it is an experience that I will treasure until the day that I die.

The last few words brought Aurora thumpingly back to the present. She couldn’t help but wonder if it actually was an experience that Gran had clung to until the last. She could well understand the sentiments. Her own mustering experience, albeit one day, had provoked a similar reaction in her. She hadn’t had occasion to look at the stars yet, but would make the effort before she went back. She moved onto the next entry.

21
^st
January 1946

Today has been complete drudgery compared to yesterday and the two days before. I never realised before this what efforts the domestic staff have had to make on our behalf at home. Today was a full day of mending. Until today, I was unaware that collars were reversed to prolong the life of the shirt. Fortunately, I was fully educated in the delights of embroidery when I was younger, so sewing is not difficult, but the job of mending itself is beyond my experience. Hooks and eyes on skirts, repairs to the plackets that cover them, removing buttons for later use, darning we had a day full of it and after the enchantment of the mustering trip it feels rather dull. Still, it is a job that needs to be done and it would be unfair to only expect to be given the jobs that I like. I do long to be back outside...

Aurora was thankful that she lived in a more affluent time when it wasn’t necessary to prolong the life of clothing as long as possible and that since Gran’s younger days, the zipper has become commonplace. She found touching the delight and fascination that her grandmother had for the aspects of life out here that included the horses and cattle. Thinking about it in perspective, it would have been a dramatic change from what Gran had been used to, knowing now what she did about Gran’s early life.

The word ‘Hellequin’ jumped out from the next entry, capturing Aurora’s attention. She smiled. Gran had obviously found a way to get back outside. She always had been a very determined woman. It wasn’t a character trait that Aurora had seemed to have inherited, and she wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not.

22
^nd
January 1946

Hellequin, despite his unfortunate name, really is a rather special horse. I had some time this afternoon and snuck out to the house paddock to see him. As far as the others are concerned, the horses are working horses and not pets as such, as are the dogs. I know that they probably would not approve of what I am doing, especially Will, who would have no doubt laughed long and hard about my softness, but I could not help it. It became very clear during the three days that we were mustering, why the ancient scholars made such profound exclamations about the beauty and majesty of the horses. I was fascinated by the way the muscle moved as we were moving along, both with what I could see of Hellequin and the other horses, particularly when sweaty, the shine made
the movement more pronounced. I often ran my hand along Hellequin’s neck from the saddle, giving in to the longing to touch him and feel the muscle and contained power within. I am guilty of fussing the horse probably way too much, but it could not be helped. After a day spent indoors yesterday, I felt somehow caged, needing to escape the confines of the house. As embarrassed as I am to admit it, I also missed the contact with Hellequin. With the express purpose of avoiding everybody, I left my room by the side French doors and skirted the house until I came to the house paddock where the working horses are. As quiet as I tried to be, my feet still made noise on the dry grass and although he had his back to me grazing, Hellequin raised his head, his ears moving ever so slightly to locate the sound. By that stage I had made it to the fence, my arms resting on top of the heavy, timber fence post. I did not want to call out to him as I was trying to remain undetected by the others, but as it turned out there was no need, as he heard me and came to investigate. I climbed through the fence to be with him. He really is glorious – so dark he is almost black but the sun glints off the dark brown making the edges glow. He cannot help himself now. He was unaccustomed to the attention to begin with, but he gently nuzzles and nudges me now, prompting my arm into action. I really will miss him when the time comes to go home. I tried not to stay out too long and was only missing for about fifteen minutes but I am glad that I did.

Aurora could imagine the heartache that her grandmother had felt on returning to Sydney. She was going to miss this place and the people herself and her reactions didn’t seem to be as strong as those written by Gran. How sad to want one way of life but be trapped in another. At least nowadays people could choose where they wanted to live and had the freedom to choose their own career or life path. Things would have been very different for her grandmother. She felt a deep gratitude for the choices open to her.

Aurora turned the page of the journal
.
As she did, what appeared to be a photo, fell face down onto the facing page. Aurora picked it up and turned it over. She was startled to see her grandmother’s face staring back at her, only younger than she remembered. She was mesmerised by the image, her eyes roving over the lines of the young Isabella’s face, looking for the links to what she had looked like many years later. A lump formed in Aurora’s throat. Gran had been beautiful, an absolute stunner. She had still been a handsome woman in her old age, but this was completely different. Aurora spent a long while holding the photo and simply gazing at it, unable to draw her eyes away.

Eventually she placed it on the bed beside her, running her finger along it as if to stroke her grandmother’s face, and returned her attention to the journal and the next diary entry. She smiled as she read through another stolen encounter with Hellequin. This time the horse had been too busy eating to bother to come over straight away and Isabella had sat on the ground inside the fence, hoping and waiting for him to come. He had come, and rather than standing she had stayed sitting, and the horse had nuzzled a lot, eventually licking Isabella’s hands, arms and shirt.

Her grandmother had been in raptures over the attention from Hellequin. Aurora wasn’t so sure herself that she would have been that calm about it or even enjoyed it. There was always that nagging worry about being bitten, and as far as she was concerned, being covered in horse slobber wasn’t high on her to-do list. Good on Gran though...

She closed the journal
,
suddenly restless, and gingerly raised herself up off the bed trying not to jar her aching muscles too much, and picked up the photo. She screwed her face up in discomfort as she wiggled her way over to the edge of the bed, hoping that she was less sore the next day, or it would be mighty embarrassing to meet a whole stack of new people while she was moving with the speed and grace of an arthritic snail. Not to mention the fact that it would make her the butt of a whole lot of jokes.

She thought that she might track down Fiona and show her the photo. They hadn’t spoken about her grandmother’s trip to Bilgarra Springs and Aurora had now arrived at the stage where she wanted to talk about it. It might be nice to find out about a time in her grandmother’s life that she hadn’t been a part of, from someone who was.

She paused in the doorway to her bedroom, listening to see if she could hear Fiona’s voice coming from the kitchen, or possibly the courtyard. Instead it appeared to be coming from the front verandah. She was probably sitting out there with Arthur as they sometimes did. Aurora hobbled down the hall and popped her head around the front door, looking to the left where the Adirondack chairs were. Sure enough Fiona and Arthur were there.

Aurora had thought that she had been quiet, obviously not quiet enough, as Arthur’s head came around to investigate and Fiona’s face lit up with a smile. Arthur was usually a man of few words and Aurora wasn’t surprised when it was Fiona who spoke.

‘Are you looking for us?’

Aurora came fully through the doorway.

‘I was. I found this photo in Gran’s journal.’