Page 9 of A Home Among the Snow Gums
Families buy pies and fuel and fodder. Kids feed the ducks on the lake and spend their pocket money on ice-creams and kayak hire. The motels book out rooms and the casual hospitality workers add another weekend of good wages to their savings. Holding the annual auction of stockhorses and cattle the same weekend as a well-run, prize-rich campdraft has traditionally brought the crowds into Hanrahan in the first week of October, year in and year out.
But The Chatter is hearing rumours that the campdraft has been pulled from the Southern District Campdrafters’ calendar this year again. That’s two years running. Town Mayor Barry O’Malley was asked if he’d heard any news: ‘Now don’t quote me in your infernal article again, Maureen. My blood pressure’s bad enough without you adding to it. Besides, old Bruno’s crook. You can’t pick a bloke to shreds in the bloody paper when he’s crook.’
Maybe that’s true. But old Bruno’s not the only Krauss living up there at Ironbark Station this year, is he?
Seems to me it might be time his long-lost son got off his arse at the back corner table of The Billy Button Café (where he hangs out all day hogging the crossword, mind you!), and remembered why Hanrahan is the finest country town in the Snowy Mountains. Might be time he stepped up.
Tradition matters here.
A healthy off season for our small business owners matters, too.
Far out. He was here in Hanrahan to brood, not to get involved. Graeme was right—he was going to need another scone.
‘What’s got you looking so grim?’ Josh Cody swung himself into the chair opposite.
‘Hey, mate. Come to collect your slug of a dog, have you?’
Josh’s face went all smiley and sappy-looking. ‘Jane Doe. She likes to keep an eye on Vera, so she nicks out through the back office window when we’re all busy.’
Tom rolled his eyes. ‘You are so under the thumb.’
‘And loving it.’
‘If you can drag your mind off the ladies in your life for one second, have you seen this?’ He turned the paper so Josh could read the article.
His mate grimaced. ‘Maureen Plover. Up to her old tricks, is she?’
‘Is it true?’
‘Is what true? Give me the short version. I’ve got a cattle dog with a medial patella luxation coming in for a consult in ten.’
‘With a what?’
‘A dicky knee.’
‘Riiight. Let me ask you a question instead, then. Does the local community miss out if the Ironbark Campdraft doesn’t get held each year? Because Bruno’s not up to it.’
‘I’m the wrong guy to ask, Tom. I’ve not been back in Hanrahan much longer than you, and I was never into the sport the way you and your dad were.’
Tom frowned. Those days were painful to remember: the good days because they’d ended, and the bad days because they’d been spectacularly, family-breakingly bad. He’d been a kid the last time he’d helped out at an event held at Ironbark; his duties had been limited to manning the gates on the cattle chutes. He was pretty sure he’d spent the whole time flirting with girls in fringed jackets and tight-as jeans, rather than taking notes on the economic impacts of campdrafting on rural communities.
‘Did he ever apologise for … you know? Stupid question, it’s Bruno we’re talking about. Never met a bloke so stubborn. What was the pup’s name again?’
Huh. Seems Tom wasn’t the only one who’d never forgotten the bad days. ‘We didn’t get around to names.’
‘Look, I know it caused a ruckus. And I’m not condoning his actions—far from it. He’d get charged for that sort of carry on these days, and I’d report him to the police in a heartbeat. But in farming communities back in your old man’s heyday, where there were no vets and neutering animals wasn’t common, it was considered a quick and merciful solution to a problem.’
Tom just grunted and Josh must have clued in that it was time to change the subject. ‘I can tell you where you might find an answer to your campdraft question, though.’
‘Yeah?’ he said, not sure whether he really wanted to know. ‘Where’s that?’
‘Dalgety. There’s an event on this coming weekend. Nothing as flash as the Ironbark one used to be, and no rodeo events or horse auctions, but it’s local enough that you’d know people. Why not check it out, ask around, get a feel for what’s involved?’
‘I guess I could drive down and take a look.’ Not that Bruno would have the least interest in entrusting his beloved campdraft to Tom’s worthless hands, but still. It’d kill a day, and he’d be able to tell the doctor next week that he’dconsidereda special project, so—simple as that—he couldn’t be depressed.
‘Hannah’ll be there, I expect,’ said Josh, in the blandest voice possible. ‘Her and Kev have been very secret squirrel the last few weeks, but my keen eye for detail, based on the filthy riding clothes Hannah dumps in the clinic laundry and the alarmed eyes of the steers over Kev’s back fence whenever they see the clinic ute, makes me think she wasn’t joking about taking campdraft up as a hobby.’
Tom blinked, kept his face equally bland, despite his surprise at Hannah’s new hobby.Say nothing. You promised.
