Alice and Jeremy bumped along the road in the late afternoon sun and looked out at a world washed with warm golds, pinks and browns. The harshness of the dried-out land was softened by the slanting rays of the setting sun, and hidden hues emerged in the landscape that was largely bleached of colour in the full daylight. The two spoke little as they drove, the long blue shadows of the trees and termite mounds lying across their way.
‘Could do with some bloody rain,’ was all Jeremy said for the first five kilometres.
The only radio station that the ute could pick up crackled in and out of reception, at times startlingly clear. But Alice wasn’t listening. The facts and figures she’d spent the afternoon perusing with her grandmother were swimming before her eyes as she stared ahead at the road. Profit and loss, overheads, direct and indirect costs were running through her mind and she frowned slightly. With her grandmother’s blessing, over the weeks since Alice had returned she had added onto the computer ingoing and outgoing cattle numbers for each paddock. It had involved a great deal of ruffling through her grandfather’s haphazard pocket record-keeping books. Alice now intended to begin recording calving percentages for each paddock and to develop a table for predicted weaning and branding times. She’d also been working on some files of her own, listing new ideas and ventures for the property.
She came out of her reverie and looked across to see Jeremy watching her as she drove. He smiled at her and she felt surprisingly comforted and reassured.
‘How did your secret women’s business go today?’ he asked, as though he’d read her mind.
Suddenly Alice found herself spilling out her thoughts to him. All her dreams and plans for Redstone. Jeremy listened with his head slightly cocked, unusually quiet.
She told him about her plan to introduce seasonal mating. This would mean that instead of keeping bulls in with the cows all year round, they would be given a season to do their work with the cows, then removed to rest and recharge their batteries. Initially it would mean fewer calves, as the cows that had calved at the wrong time the previous year would fail to cycle when the bulls were on hand. However, after a few years the cows would be synchronised, and those that weren’t would stand out as the less fertile and be culled.
She confided in Jeremy her concern that her grandfather was only focused on the short term. It was understandable: while she was thinking twenty years down the track, Pa, at his age, was concentrating only on surviving a day at a time. He had the bank manager breathing down his neck and regular interest payments to meet. Anything that meant a reduction in calf numbers, even in the short term, appeared madness to him. But Alice had done her homework. She’d calculated the exact figures using the worst-case scenario. There were losses in the short term, yes, but when all the calves were born at the same time the cattle workload would be cut by more than half, with only one annual round of branding and weaning for each paddock. Until now there had been haphazard branding and weaning all year round; there was always a drizzle of multi-sized weaners needing to be taken off at any time, and a drizzle of musters to match. These small mobs of weaners didn’t get proper handling before being sent bush. As a result, they were flighty, slower to gain weight, harder on fences and difficult to muster.
Realising how long she’d been talking, Alice stopped and looked at Jeremy, but he just nodded for her to go on.
Alice explained that with perdictable numbers of a uniform size she believed they would be able to meet forward contracts for beef orders. Transporting bulk loads, less often, was a huge saving for a station as out of the way as Redstone. Of course, any plans were always subject to the weather, and extended dry spells were part of life at Redstone. But from her time at ag college Alice knew all about feed supplementation; loose dry-powder licks and molasses-urea wet licks were genuine options. Yes, another cost, but one that would pay for itself tenfold as the breeding cows would no longer need so many months to return to fertility after every dry.
They reached Jeremy’s ute, and Alice pulled up behind it. But they continued to sit in the cab while Alice, her face shining, described her strategy of splitting the larger paddocks and starting rotational grazing. ‘I’m sure we could nearly double our carrying capacity,’ she said eagerly.
‘It will mean loads of fencing, and new watering points,’ Jeremy observed. ‘But don’t get me wrong, I think it’s a top idea. The way to go. My brother John has been trying to convince Dad to do the same thing for a few years now.’
There was a short pause and they sat, listening to the hum of the crickets. Alice was pleased that Jeremy approved of her ideas, but she was still troubled by the thought of hurting her grandparents. Redstone was their home. What right did she have to tell them how to run it?
Looking across at Jeremy again, she explained her dilemma. ‘They’ve done so much for me. More than grandparents should ever have to.’
‘Excuse me for saying so, but I think it’s paid off for them in spades if you know what I mean.’ Jeremy looked at her, his eyes smiling.
Alice felt herself relax a little. Some of the weight had lifted from her shoulders with the relief of having confided in someone.
They climbed out of the ute and Alice examined the damaged ironbark while Jeremy refuelled his vehicle from the drum. Bits of Maurie’s paint were embedded in the splintered bark of the tree. The farm ute radio was still playing. It sounded tinny and out of place in the isolation. The presenter was talking about fungal infections. He finished his spiel and then both Alice and Jeremy recognised the opening notes of the soppily romantic seventies hit, ‘Could I Have this Dance’. Jeremy hurled the empty fuel drum into the back of his ute and bounded over to Alice.
Before she knew it, she was firmly in his arms and he was waltzing her in an exaggerated slow dance, their feet making patterns in the bulldust. He mouthed the words while Anne Murray crooned, ‘ . . . Could I have this dance for the rest of my life? Would you be my partner every night? When we’re together it feels soooo right . . .’
After a slight struggle, Alice laughed and allowed Jeremy to manoeuvre her. She couldn’t help being aware of the strength of his arms holding her. She could feel the life and energy humming inside this man. Her forehead rested for a moment on his chin and a tingling warmth travelled from his body into hers.
The spell lasted as long as the song, then the presenter’s conversational voice irreverently cut off the last few notes, still talking about tinea. Jeremy released Alice and they stood looking at each other in the fading light, breathing quickly. The stress of her afternoon in the office was forgotten. She even wondered if, in another time and place, they could have loved one another.
But Alice was well aware of the kind of man that Jeremy had become, and all too familiar with his kind of girl. Jeremy had no place in her own special country. Hers was a solitary world of the outdoors, peace, and simple, rugged beauty. She had no use for Jeremy’s life of rodeos, egos, drunken revelry, and promiscuity. And this world had claimed him. She’d been invited into it repeatedly at ag college and had consciously withdrawn from it. Alice knew that she didn’t fit Jeremy’s life any more than he fitted hers. As much as she liked him and enjoyed working with him, she had no intention of becoming another notch on his belt.
Jeremy, standing opposite Alice in the dusk, was experiencing a disconcerting absence of the self-assurance he usually felt around women.
‘Are you blushing under that tan?’ he asked hopefully.
‘No,’ Alice answered, and he knew that it was true.
There it was again. Jeremy marvelled at the strange absence of self-consciousness in this girl. She was so certain of herself. None of the usual rules applied here. His typical moves were obsolete; Alice was so different to other girls.
‘You’re lucky that wasn’t “Eagle Rock”,’ he joked, trying to ease the intensity. ‘You know the tradition for that song.’
She smiled up at him, then looked down, her eyelashes concealing her thoughts from him. There was another silence while Jeremy panicked inwardly. He wanted to kiss her, but some dormant instinct inside him rose up in warning against that course of action. He was surprised when, looking up at him again, it was she who broke the silence.
‘Thank you for the dance, kind sir.’ She spoke with dignity.
He realised that she was gently concluding the incident and relieving him of the option of any further action. On an impulse, he took her small brown hand in his big rough one and kissed the back of it.
And then it was all over. They climbed into their vehicles. Alice waited to make sure Jeremy’s engine started and then followed him, keeping a distance behind to avoid his dust. Jeremy squirmed in his seat and swore quietly, cursing the uncomfortable turmoil he was experiencing. He’d really stuffed up big time. This girl had got under his skin; and yet she hadn’t seemed like the dangerous type. Becoming involved in a serious relationship was something he’d resolved against doing long ago. He decided he’d soon get over her. If not, he’d have to shoot through. But the truth was, Alice’s description of her plans for Redstone had excited and stimulated him. At last, it was something he could really sink his teeth into.
It was dark when they crossed the grid before the homestead. Jeremy honked loudly at the sight of Olive’s fretting face in the kitchen window. He swept past much too quickly, skidding to a halt in the shed. Alice pulled up alongside. After a brief goodnight, she disappeared into the house.