A Farmer's Choice Read online

  He hadn’t been able to stay in the house another minute and Carlene had followed him out and said, ‘Don’t worry about it, Dave. He doesn’t mean it.’

  But Dave was worried. His sense of what was right and what wasn’t had always been strong, even as a little boy. He’d never tolerated bullies or little boys pulling girls’ pigtails. What his father had done that night was both bullying and mean. He’d done it before and Dave was sure he’d do it again.

  His mother was right, however. If they didn’t start pulling together it could mean that the business might be lost. They’d learned about succession planning at ag college and he knew how important it was, but it looked like Sam wasn’t going to be entertaining that route anytime soon.

  Dave had been home for two years now. He’d arrived back on Wind Valley Farm in the December after he’d finished ag college. Harvest had already started and both Dean and Adam were already working at home and being paid a meagre wage. Dean handled the seeding and Adam ran around behind him.

  Dave hadn’t been sure where he fitted in, so he did what he thought was right—improve the farm, which included the stock. Both brothers seemed happy to leave the sheep and cattle to Dave as they much preferred the cool air-conditioned cabs of the tractor and header. The yards weren’t much fun in the middle of summer or in the winter when the freezing, dry wind howled around the hills and into the valley.

  The animal work hadn’t bothered Dave—he liked anything to do with farming. It didn’t matter what job he was given or how hard or easy it was. As long as he was outside and had his hands in the soil, he was happy. It showed. He’d been awarded the Graduate of Excellence award at his graduation. Only his mum had been there to see that. Everyone else had been busy with the harvest.

  By the time the harvest had finished in 1988, Dave had completed the drenching program, weaned the calves and started to change the water system so it was more reliable than waiting for water to siphon down from tank to tank to tank, and then into the troughs in the paddocks. More often than not, he’d been out checking the animals and paddocks and found troughs near empty and, in forty-plus heat, that wasn’t an option.

  Maybe he should have asked his dad’s approval before buying a solar pump worth two thousand dollars, but they could afford it and it had been hard to track down. His dad had been keeping crazy hours, working sometimes eighteen hours a day to beat the summer storms, which usually arrived in January.

  Peace of mind when it came to water, in Dave’s opinion, was a no-brainer.

  He’d rerun the wires of the more rundown fences and cleaned out the sheep feeders ready for the hand-feeding, which would start once the sheep had finished on the stubbles. He’d spent hours walking the land of Wind Valley Farm, working out where soils changed and marking where soil tests would be best taken from. He’d revelled in the clear air, open spaces and creating a strong and viable farming enterprise. Flocks of galahs and white cockatoos had kept him company, as had his kelpie, Jip.

  At first, when the harvest had finished, his father, Dean and Adam had been full of praise for him. His brothers could now have January off, which meant a potential holiday to the beach. All the stock work had already been finished. And Dave had done it all single-handedly. There was nothing left to do at all, other than normal stock checks.

  But then his father had gone into the office and seen the invoices for the pumps and soil tests. ‘You’ve made management decisions without speaking to me,’ his father had said with suppressed anger. ‘This is my farm. I’m in charge. Not you. Not your brothers. Me. I’ve worked hard to get here and just because you’ve got some fancy piece of paper saying you think you’re shit hot doesn’t give you any right to come in here and take over. You have to start at the bottom and work your way up.’

  Dave didn’t disagree with him—he knew a farmer needed to know how to do every job on a farm and, of course, the youngest son coming home from ag college wasn’t going to be given the best jobs.

  ‘Never ask a man to do a job you wouldn’t do yourself,’ his grandfather had told him.

  But even understanding his father’s way of thinking, surely Sam could see what he’d done, the improvements he’d made. Now there was never any chance of the stock running out of water. The fences were in tip-top condition and everyone knew what fertiliser was needed for the soil. These changes he’d made—small as they were—weren’t they beneficial for everyone?

  From then on, their relationship had never been the same and every time Sam was able to give out a crappy job, it was Dave who got it. At first, Dean and Adam had been supportive of Dave, offering to do some of the jobs and standing up to their father. Their help, however, had only made their lives difficult.

  ‘Stay out of it,’ Sam had told the two brothers. ‘I’ll get who I want to do what I want.’

  As time had gone on, they’d liked not having to get under the shearing shed and shovel the shit out and, even though they’d both confessed to Dave over a beer that they felt uncomfortable seeing him get into silos and clean out rotten grain, they were pleased not to have to do it themselves. Over time, they’d started to see Dave as the ‘shit-kicker’, not their brother.

  Sighing, Dave flopped on his bed and stared at the ceiling, his hands behind his head. He wondered if things would change much once Mandy moved out to Wind Valley into the cottage on the other side of the property that she and Dean had been gradually renovating and painting. In reality, he didn’t think so. Perhaps her sunny nature might help lighten the atmosphere in the main house, as well as Dean’s personality—which always seemed to be dark and brooding, like their father. Or maybe the Burrows family would rub off on Mandy. He hoped not.

  Glancing outside, he realised the shadows were beginning to lengthen. The sheep would be out grazing now, so he knew he should go and muster the last paddock of ewes that hadn’t been drenched. He could do them first thing in the morning, in the cool.

  Pulling himself up, he turned off the air-conditioner and grabbed his helmet, before slamming the door behind him and calling to Jip.

  Chapter 3

  When Dave pushed open the door, the pub was noisy with roaring laughter and smelled like spilled beer and sweat.

  It had only taken him thirty minutes to get the sheep in the yards, with the help of Jip, and he’d decided to reward himself with a beer and a Sunday evening feed at the local pub in Northam. Being only twenty minutes drive away, he thought he could use the company of the customers. He needed a break from Wind Valley Farm.

  When he’d called in past the house to tell his mum he wouldn’t be there for dinner, he’d seen his dad’s ute parked outside. While he’d been there, Dave had asked his mum where Sam had been and why he’d missed lunch. She had just raised her shoulders in a shrug. Then he’d emptied two wheelbarrows full of cuttings into the rubbish bins and asked if there was anything more he could do before he left. She’d said no.

  He hated seeing his mum slaving away in the house and the garden without any help and seeing her spoken to as if she were dirt, but he felt powerless to change anything.

  ‘Davo, how goes?’ asked Jack, one of the blokes on his cricket team. ‘Harvest all done?’

  ‘Yeah, mate. Finished a couple of weeks ago. What about you?’

  ‘Done and dusted for another year. Good yields. Should help keep the wolf from door. Not like last year. Hope I never see another harvest like that again. Hardly got our seed back.’ He took a long pull of his beer as if he were trying to wash away any memories of the drought which had hit hard, over three long years. Rain clouds had taunted them as they’d scurried over the sky, carried along by the strong, cold wind, but they hadn’t dropped much rain. A few millimetres, every month or so, at best.

  Selling stock had been the first thing his father had done—and Dave hadn’t agreed with his decision. Sam had wanted to sell the core breeding ewes, rather than the lambs and wethers. Dave had argued with his father that it would cost too much to buy ewes back in and it would be
best to keep them for as long as they could. Sam had ignored Dave’s comments, and the other brothers had gone along with what their father had chosen to do.

  Dave handed over a ten dollar note to the bartender and got a beer in return with some change. ‘I hear you. Farming’s easy when you get the rain and the sun at the right time.’

  ‘And a shit of a profession to be in when it’s not! Are you on the countdown to the big day?’

  ‘Five days tomorrow. Things are mad. Mum is still snipping away at the garden and I think tomorrow is when all the people helping start turning up—caterers doing all the prep work and such.’

  ‘Yeah, all the CWA ladies are going there first thing in the morning. Must be carting all the tables and so on out tomorrow. Anyways, Georgie wants to know if Mandy will join the CWA when she gets here. Can you make sure Mandy knows? Need to make her feel welcome, don’t we?’ ‘I guess so. Still she’s met a few of us over the past couple of years. She should fit in pretty easily.’ Dave was about to ask if Jack had noticed any signs of worm burden in his sheep when his friend spoke again.

  ‘Hoping to catch Dean for a beer before he ties the knot. Reckon we should organise a few with the team?’

  ‘Probably wouldn’t be a bad idea.’ He glanced around and saw Adam was sitting in the dining room with Tiffany and her family. Unexpectedly, Dave felt a sense of loneliness envelope him. Life was changing quickly. Dean was about to be married and Adam seemed to be moving more towards his girlfriend’s family. And with the harvest finished and all of the marriage arrangements happening, Dean hadn’t been around much.

  The three brothers had been close as kids but, somehow, as they’d got older and drifted in different directions, they’d grown apart. It saddened Dave; he missed the camaraderie he’d had with Dean and Adam. He was also positive that the breakdown in relations between the brothers and their father upset his mum more than she ever let on.

  He shook himself out of his reverie. As his grandfather had often said to him, there was no use wallowing in self-pity as no one ever took any notice. He turned back and looked at Jack. ‘We’d better get on with it if we’re going to make this happen in time.’

  ‘Leave it with me,’ Jack answered. ‘I’ll be able to work something out.’ He gave a wink and ordered another beer.

  Dave took his drink into the restaurant and grabbed a seat at a table set for two. He half hoped Adam and Tiffany would invite him to join them, but they were sitting with their backs to him and hadn’t seen Dave come in.

  Listening as Adam laughed and talked, Dave took another sip of his beer. He really needed to be the one to pull them all together, he decided. They couldn’t lose their family and Wind Valley Farm just because of in-house fighting. Or, rather, Sam fighting with Dave.

  Grabbing the notepad and pen that he always kept in his pocket, he jotted some ideas down:

  Weekly meetings.

  Everyone able to speak without being interrupted.

  Include Mum and Mandy so everyone feels involved. Ownership.

  Enterprise planning so everyone knows what is going on. An enterprise each??? Dad—hay making, Dean—cropping, Adam—cattle, Me—sheep??

  Mediation????

  He was sure his dad wouldn’t agree to either the idea of an enterprise each or the mediation, but it was worth throwing out there. He thought about the time frames—Dean and Mandy would be back from their honeymoon by the middle of January, which was an ideal time for everyone to have this discussion. When they got back, the budgets would need to be done and planning completed for the twelve months ahead. The bank would be wanting to do a review of their finances and would need all this information.

  ‘What can I get you, love?’ Katrina, the waitress interrupted his note-taking. He moved his hand over the writing, not wanting her to see it. Katrina was the biggest gossip the town had known and she was friends with Tiffany’s mother.

  As he looked up, he could see by the expression on her face that she’d already read some of it.

  ‘How are you, Katrina?’ he asked, hoping if he engaged her, she might forget.

  ‘Busy.’ She looked over her shoulder at the filling restaurant. ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘Steak. Medium rare, chips and salad. Thanks.’

  ‘Bring it out to you.’ She nodded and gave him another hard stare before going back to the kitchen.

  ‘Hey Mum,’ Dave said as he breezed through the kitchen the next morning. He stopped at the smell of chocolate cake and leaned over and put his finger in the bowl. ‘Yum, raw mixture. My fav. Where’s Dad?’

  ‘Stop that or I’ll give your knuckles a rap,’ Carlene answered mildly. ‘I need all the mixture I can get to feed the hordes arriving.’

  ‘Everyone will be here tomorrow?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah.’

  Dave looked at the piles of sheets and blankets on the kitchen table and realised she was cooking and still had to make up beds for all the relatives. ‘Do you want me to take any of these down to the rooms for you?’ he offered. ‘Have the extra beds been made up in the shearers’ quarters?’

  ‘Yep, they’re all done. I did them while you were out last night.’

  Carlene looked up and he saw the beads of sweat on her brow. She looked tired, too. ‘Can I do anything for you, Mum?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, love. I’ve got everything under control. Your Aunty Peg will be here tomorrow and she’ll be able to give me a hand. Once all the CWA ladies get here . . . well, you won’t know the place.’

  Dave paused. ‘What about Mandy’s family?’

  ‘The morning of the wedding. I think she and Dean decided not to see each other the week leading up to it.’

  Dave didn’t respond to that. There were too many things he could say: how about a bit of help was the first one which came to mind.

  ‘And the CWA ladies will be here tomorrow as well. We’ll start setting the tables up on the lawn, but we won’t put out any of the decorations until the morning of the ceremony. Don’t want them getting dusty or faded.’

  ‘Are you doing all of this by yourself?’

  ‘No, no, like I said the CWA ladies and Aunty Peg will be here. I’ve got everything all organised. The tablecloths and decorations are in the other lounge room, which we never use. I’ve already got five beds made up, only another four to go. The caterers . . .’

  ‘So, in other words you are doing this all by yourself, Mum. You’ve organised everything.’ Frustration coursed through him. His brother was nowhere in sight. If it had been his own wedding, Dave would be around as much as he could, helping tidy the garden and lug tables and chairs around, not expecting his mother to do it all. Instead, it seemed Dean had disappeared not only from the farm work, but everything else.

  ‘Where’s Dean?’ he asked.

  ‘I guess he’s still in the cottage. He has to get the painting finished so they can stay there on Saturday night. He’s still got three rooms to go, from what he said last night.’

  ‘Should dry pretty easily,’ Dave commented. ‘Maybe once he’s finished, he can come and help here.’

  His mum fixed him with a pleading stare, but didn’t say anything.

  He was thrown back to his grandfather’s words, once again: ‘Be aware of your actions and words, because someone is always watching.’ He wondered what his maternal grandfather would’ve made of the way life was on Wind Valley Farm now? Having lived here very briefly before his death, he’d spent hours when Dave was younger, telling stories and wandering the paddocks together. Dave missed him and knew his mum did too.

  Both Dean and Adam spoke to Carlene the way Sam did. They’d learned it from their father. He briefly wondered why he hadn’t done the same. But that thought wasn’t relevant because he was nothing like his dad and didn’t want to be.

  ‘Dave,’ his mother put down the wooden spoon and looked at him, ‘this is going to be such a special time. Dean’s only going to get married once and I want to make sure it’s perfect for him and Man
dy.’

  ‘They could have helped you.’

  ‘They’re busy. At least this way I can make sure everything is done properly. There are only thirty people coming to the wedding—it’s not a big one. Hell! I’ve cooked for larger shearing teams than that in my time!’

  ‘I can see you’re tired.’

  ‘I’m fine. Now what did you want with your father?’

  Dave shook his head. His mother was stubborn and he knew he wasn’t going to win with her. ‘I had some ideas,’ he said. ‘Thought I’d run them past him.’

  ‘Oh, Dave,’ his mother groaned. ‘Can it wait until after the wedding? I don’t want any more issues. Please?’

  ‘But I’m not going to cause any more issues,’ he answered, frowning. ‘I’m going to solve them.’

  ‘That’s what you think. Come on!’

  ‘I’m joking, Mum! I promise.’ He decided to file his ideas for the moment, not wanting to upset her. ‘I’ve finished drenching all the sheep. I just wanted to know if he’d prefer me to put them into a different paddock.’

  ‘We always need to change the paddock after they’ve been drenched. You know that.’

  Mother’s and son’s eyes caught and they looked at each other for a moment.

  ‘I know,’ Dave finally said, turning towards the voice of his father. ‘I just wasn’t sure which one.’

  ‘Where did they come from? The hill paddock?’

  ‘No, these are the three-year-old yellow tags from the valley paddock.’

  ‘Right. They can go into the one against the eastern boundary. I’ve got to go into town and pick up some oil, so wait until I go before moving them down the road, okay? Otherwise you’ll hold me up.’

  ‘Probably too hot to shift them now anyway. I’ll wait until this evening.’

  ‘Better to get them out and on water again,’ Sam said, looking hard at Dave.