Page 97 of A Home Among the Snow Gums
‘I just switched it on.’
‘Harper’s poultice hasn’t been changed yet.’
‘I can do that.’
‘Feed’s done, water’s done, paddock gates are locked.’
Tom clapped Bill on the back. ‘Go home, mother hen. I know I’ve not been around much, but I was shovelling shit in these stables when I was three.’
Bill handed him the brush. ‘Yes, boss.’
Boss. Huh. That was the first time any of the ringers had called him that. It felt a little odd after all those years being addressed as sir or lieutenant commander. It also felt like acceptance.
He was heating the poultice when his phone buzzed.
‘Boss? It’s Bill.’
‘You still here? I thought I told you to go home.’
‘I’m trying. Got to the turn-off from the mountain and there’s a lot of debris on the road. Dead wood’s come down and the wind’s blowing it every which way.’
‘We’ll get a crew out in the morning.’
‘Yeah, but that ain’t the worst of it.’
‘Yes?’
‘There’s an oak down over the main gate out to Gorge Road. It’ll need a tractor and chainsaw to clear it, so I went cross country aways to Barker Road, but the stream’s up. I got through, but I shouldn’t have tried. Even in the big Ford I slid sideways so bad I was wondering what my wife would be telling everyone about me in her eulogy. Road musta been washed out beneath the water. There’s no-one getting through that until this rain’s done.’
‘Bill, are you okay? Is your truck okay?’
‘I’m fine, but the road up to Ironbark is blocked every which way.’
Hell. Please, god, don’t let Buttercup go into an early labour tonight.
‘Thanks, Bill. You get home safe before anything else goes wrong. Call me when you get there, all right?’
‘You got it, boss.’
Tucking up the horses took longer than Tom had expected; the wind had unsettled them, so he lingered, stroked a few ears, gave a few reassuring words as he tidied everything away. By the time he made his way out of the stables, the trees beyond the home paddock were being whipped by the wind and leaf fall scudded over the gravel paths. The horses would be restless, but they’d be safe.
The wind carried the first bullets of rain with it, which stung his face. When he got back, he’d do some work then sit by the fire and think through the mad idea of setting up a legal practice. A small-town country practice: wills and conveyances and estate planning. He’d need to do a lot of reading, maybe some courses to bring his knowledge up to date, and that sounded the opposite of exciting. Which, actually, made it just about perfect. Excitement was overrated.
A flicker and a crack like automatic gunfire made his heart nearly leap out of his chest when he was halfway between the stables and the house. What the hell? He spun awkwardly on his bad leg just as sheet lightning flickered, showing him the old gum tree in the home paddock alight. If it had been dry, the lightning strike could have set off a bushfire that would threaten the whole mountain, but there was no chance of that tonight.
He kept his eyes on the paddock as he went up the homestead steps. The fire was doused already by the rain that was icy and sharp and almost, but not quite, snow. He shook off his oilskin and hung it on the hooks by the door, but before he could get his hand on the latch, the door opened.
‘Tom? Honey?’
Mrs L must have been on the watch for him, and her voice had a quaver in it that wasn’t just age, but also alarm. The housekeeper’s face was in shadow against the light of the hall and she was clutching her cardigan close against the wind that was whipping past him down the hall.
‘Everything’s fine, Mrs L. Lightning took out a tree, that’s all. Let’s get this door closed,’ he said.
‘I’ve messed up,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Now he’d shut the wind out and his eyes were no longer stinging from the whip of ice and leaf litter, he could see she was crying. He held her plump hand in his. ‘Mrs L! You could never mess up. What’s wrong?’
‘It’s your father.’
