Hope's Road (18 page)

‘Nothing.' Tammy slammed the paper bag down on the wide verandah rail and turned away to calm herself. It wouldn't do any good for Joe to see how upset she was. She gazed out across the mountains and drank in the view. She looked down below McCauley's Hill and saw Montmorency Downs, her beautiful and historic farm. What was the old saying? One generation to make it, the next to use it, the following to lose it. Damn it, she couldn't lose the farm. What would she do?

‘Got to get home. Jock's milking for me. Do you need anything else this week? Luce delivered your groceries, didn't she?'

‘Yes. The batty Ms Granger has been and gone.'

‘Lucy is not batty. She's just different.'

‘Argh,' Joe snorted. ‘
We're
different.
She's
a veritable fruitcake.'

Despite herself Tammy couldn't help but smile. ‘A nice fruitcake though.'

Joe paused and peered out across the flats below, as if thinking of something to say. Eventually, ‘Yes, well, I suppose you could say that – one with plenty of nuts. You seen Hunter lately?'

Tammy quickly turned, not quite subduing the blush she could feel blooming on her cheeks. She caught a funny look in the old man's eyes before he flicked his gaze away. A knowing sort of look. ‘No, why?' she asked.

‘No reason. Just wonderin'.'

Chapter 28

It was four o'clock when Trav finally drove out of Grayden Horton's front gate, heading for home. It'd been a busy week trying to juggle everything. This morning he'd been up before daylight and he'd hoped to be home by now, but unfortunately duty called. Grayden ran a sheep property above Lake Grace and he'd lost six pure-bred ewes to a dog over the past week. He wasn't a happy man.

The dog they were tracking was grabbing the sheep on the left shoulder, going for the throat, barrelling the animal down, and then eating the fat off the brisket, leaving the maimed sheep to die a horrible death.

A dog usually didn't live too far from what they were attacking, and Trav should have been able to track it reasonably easily. But this one was doing his head in. Just when he thought he had the bastard all worked out, it would evade him and Trav was back to square one. However, as he swung the ute towards home, he had to admit to himself this was why he loved being a dog trapper. Here it wasn't about maintaining a fence, it was about pitting his skills against an animal's. A wily and clever dog.

Beside him the mobile phone rang suddenly. He pulled to the side of the gravel road and picked it up. ‘Hunter speaking.'

‘Trav?'

He drew in a deep breath. It was the unmistakable voice of the woman who didn't want to have anything to do with him. He cleared his throat, ‘Speaking.'

‘Thank heavens I got you. I've been trying all day,' said Tammy.

‘What's up?'

There was something desperate in her tone. An edge he'd never heard before, not even on that God-awful night in the Lake Grace hall.

‘I've lost two calves, Trav. Heifer calves. I think it was a dog. You should see the mess! It's terrible . . .' Her voice trailed off. Then a soft plea. ‘Can you come?'

That morning Tammy had swung the motorbike into the calving paddock. She was desperate to get these calves on the ground, and hoping for a good drop of heifers. She had her eyes on the dairy heifer export market, where they were making really good money. And thinking of her discussion with the solicitor, she knew she needed every cent she could get.

The sight that greeted her in the paddock was extraordinary. Two cows, out on their own, one bellowing and carrying on, the other standing over what looked like a lump of red raw meat in the lush grass.

Tammy pulled up in front of the animal that was now nudging at the mound, only to stop and gag. The lump of raw meat was a baby calf. Completely skinned.

The mother was standing over her baby, lowing softly, nudging the sinewy mess, trying to get it to move. Then, as Tammy watched, she took a last deeply mournful bellow, stepped away from the remains of her baby and ambled across the paddock towards the rest of the herd.

Tammy got off the bike and peered at the body, tears pouring down her cheeks. The perfectly formed little hooves were completely clean. Not a mark of grass or dirt. The poor little sod hadn't even hit the ground. The dog had been waiting for it as it left its mother's uterus.
The bastard!

Tammy spun around and kicked out at the motorbike tyre in frustration. Only to spot another bloody carcass. But this one was still moving, which explained why the other cow was going berserk.

The newborn Friesian heifer had been skinned too. Bite marks punctured the area around its neck, and the hide had been peeled back like a jumper. The poor little baby was still alive.

Running back to the bike, Tammy gunned the engine and sped back towards the dairy to where she kept the gun safe. Grabbing her .22 rifle and some ammunition she roared back to the paddock and the tortured animal. It was still trying to live without a skin. She loaded the gun, pointed it, pulled the trigger.

‘So what's happened here is the dog has come in and gone for the neck. See the bite marks?' said Trav dispassionately as he walked around the pitiful remains. ‘It's then stood on the back end to hold the calf and skinned it. It's started to eat the poor little bugger straight away but I'd say you've disturbed it and it's taken off.'

Tammy shuddered. It was appalling. And she still had at least thirty cows to calve down. ‘So what are you going to do about it?' she asked, trying to stop the slight sound of hysteria she knew was threaded through her voice. She'd been telling herself to remain cool and calm but her vocal chords weren't listening to her brain. She felt like she wanted to murder someone or something! It had certainly driven worries about Shon and the property out of her mind. There was that.

‘By the way it's attacking, I'm guessing this isn't the same dog having a crack at Grayden Horton's ewes.'

Tammy gasped. There was more than one dog killing?!

Trav looked up at her with his vivid blue eyes. ‘You okay?'

Tammy nearly came undone at the kindness in his gaze. Damn it! Just when she needed him to be prickly so she could hate him, he went all caring and George Clooney on her. All she needed now was that half-smile and –

Trav gave a half-smile in sympathy. ‘We'll get him, Tammy. Don't worry. Are you sure you're okay?'

‘I'm fine,' she muttered roughly. ‘I've had a difficult week and this just tops it right off.'

‘Mmm . . . yes, well, you get that.' His voice was flat, the half-smile gone in a flash. The stern look had returned with a vengeance.

Aha! So the wild man was back. Bring it on.

‘I reckon he's come from that long ridge line up there past old Joe's place,' said Trav. He waved an arm out towards McCauley's Hill. ‘Dogs are lazy like humans so they travel the easiest route. Long spurs are a favourite entry point. The breeze would be coming up on either side of that ridge so he could smell what's around.'

‘I haven't noticed anything amiss. What sort of stuff should I be looking for?' Tammy was desperately trying to match Trav's matter-of-fact tone.

‘Dog prints, turds, scratches, drag marks. I'll go for a wander and see if I can spot anything along your boundary. Billy said he saw a dog the other week when he stayed at Joe's, the night of the dance.'

Tammy dropped her gaze, dug a few divots in the dirt with the toe of her boot. She didn't want Trav to see the disappointment and the need, which she knew would be blazing in her eyes. God, she wished she could have said yes to whatever it was he'd been offering that night. How often over the past week had she flogged herself for pushing him away? Round and round her reasoning would go, like a Ferris wheel, until it was all-out war between her brain and her heart. The problem was this
thing
between them wasn't something tangible she could reason with or reject. It was a need. A raw desire for this man that confounded and frightened her.

‘So what now?' she asked, trying to keep to the point at hand.

Trav looked down at the meaty lump at his feet. Gave it a shove with the side of his leather boot. ‘We need to think like a dog. How would I come in? How would I do this?'

‘Will he kill again?'

‘Possibly. Depends if he's still around or whether he's taken off to patrol his territory.'

‘His territory?'

Trav flung a hand up to scruff at his hair. ‘Every wild dog has their own discrete area or territory which they mark with urine. On trees, tussocks, clumps of grass, whatever. They piss on everything to let other dogs know not to cross into their patch. It remains that particular dog's territory until he dies or moves on due to lack of food.'

‘How big an area?'

‘It varies. Every dog is different. Sometimes it could be twenty to thirty square kilometres or so.'

‘Crikey. That's a lot of travelling for one dog.'

‘Not really. He could do that in a couple of hours if he really wanted.'

‘Should I shift the stock nearer to the house? Would that help protect them?'

‘Wouldn't be a bad idea,' said Trav. ‘Once a dog's inside the boundaries and killing, you know they've learned the lay of the land. That makes them twenty times harder to catch.'

‘So, what can
you
do to help me?'

Trav turned and took in the ridges leading down to Montmorency. ‘I reckon I'll try staking him out. Maybe head down here before dawn. If I don't get him, I'll try setting a few traps along Boundary Track and thereabouts.'

‘Can I come?' She needed to get onto this right away, tomorrow preferably.

‘Sure,' he said, looking surprised.

‘I'll meet you at your place in the morning,' she said.

Chapter 29

They were out on Boundary Track past where old Joe's place met the bush. Travis drove his ute with one hand on the wheel, head out the driver's-side window checking for tracks.

‘What're you looking for exactly?' said Tammy, breaking the uneasy silence. They hadn't spoken since they'd left her paddock after staking it out until the sun was well up. The dog hadn't appeared so Travis wanted to set some traps.

‘The ground is sandy in these parts so it's easy enough to pick out the different spoor. See these tracks?'

Tammy leaned over to look out of Trav's window, acutely aware of the man as she did so. She tried really hard not to touch him but the warmth emanating from his body, his scent of earth and male were intoxicating. They drew her in like a lure. Get your mind on the job, McCauley, she reprimanded herself, pushing back towards her own seat.

Travis, in the meantime, was leaning out the window, completely oblivious, staring at spoor on the ground. ‘That's a wombat, and that's a deer. There's a roo,' he pointed to a longer track, ‘and that's a –' Trav suddenly stopped the ute. Got out and crouched on the ground.

He glanced up at Tammy who was lying across the seat again, looking out the doorway at what he was pointing to. ‘That's a dog. The thing is, where has it gone?'

He stood up, looked around a bit then went to hop back in the ute, watching as she scrambled to reach her own side once again. He gave a small grin. ‘I'm not contagious. In fact, I hardly ever bite.'

Tammy's brain went into meltdown imagining Travis Hunter biting her all over. ‘Right,' she said, not knowing what else to say. She could feel a red-hot flush claiming her face at the way her thoughts were heading.

‘Let's follow these tracks and see where they go.' Travis was back in the ute and had the vehicle moving, eyes focused on the ground outside his window.

Just as well he's distracted by that spoor, thought Tammy. She'd have a tough time explaining this furious blush away.

Travis tracked the dog to an intersection of Boundary Track and Tin Pot Creek Track. There he lost the spoor. He got out again and walked around.

Tammy bailed out of the ute with him this time but stayed a respectful – and respectable – distance away. ‘What're you looking for?'

‘Any sign, like prints, dog shit and scratches in the earth where the ground had been torn up by a dog's back feet,' said Travis as he wandered around. ‘The idea is to look and
see
, not just look.'

He was so intent on his job, Tammy couldn't stop herself watching him as he poked around. His body looked at one with the bush, his worn and crumpled clothes blending in among the scrub. His head was down, eyes focused on the dirt as he gracefully moved to this spot then that. It reminded her of the way he danced, movements that were methodical but with a hint of unexploded energy, some wild passion held in check. She was so attuned to what he was doing she knew immediately when he'd noticed something amiss. ‘What? What is it?'

He pointed to an old gum, its lower trunk a bright lime green, wizened and wrinkled at the base like a giant elephant's foot. ‘That's a marker tree. Wild dogs mark their territory and the constant spray of dog piss turns the exposed root green.'

He strode back to the ute and let one of his dogs – the male, Tommy – off the back. The mutt ran around and she could see Trav clock that Tommy paid particular attention to the tree, spraying the root with his own piss and then a nearby clump of tussock as well.

Travis called the dog back onto the ute, locked him up. He returned to Tammy, a wicked little grin playing across his face. ‘Tracking a wild dog without a dog of your own is like going into a whorehouse without a dick, if you'll pardon my French.'

He looked so contrite at being impolite, Tammy chuckled. The man was an incredible mix of contradictions. Inside that hard body of muscle, which seemed to repeatedly send erotic thoughts skidding through her mind, a wild caveman clashed with a refined gentleman. Maybe one man was what he really was, the other what he thought he should be.

‘Have I offended you?' His eyes and brow were now crink­ling with concern.

‘Hey, I'm a dairy farmer. I think I can handle it.' She was really laughing now. ‘Obviously you've never spent time at Montmorency. A choice swear word or two always helps relieve the stress in the cattle-yards.'

Travis gave a half-grin in return, his watchful gaze pausing to take in her laughing face as if he'd never seen it properly before. His eyes skimmed over her pert nose, high cheekbones and lightly dimpled chin. The intensity of his stare made her stomach do somersaults, while her brain dived into her pants. That hungry look of his made her feel like she was the most desirable woman in the world.

Tammy found herself looking down, suddenly self-conscious. ‘What now, Mr Boundary Rider?' she mumbled to the ground.

He moved towards the ute. ‘We have something to eat, Ms McCauley. I'm starving.'

I am too, was her immediate and traitorous thought. Just not for food.

‘So, where were you working on the dog fence?' she asked, a tentative note to her voice. They were both munching on sandwiches; Tammy had just poured two cuppas from a Thermos she'd stashed in the ute. He noticed she didn't ask anything else, just looked around, giving him time to decide whether he wanted to answer or not.

He sat and thought about what to say. How much to share? Above their small clearing, where they sat perched on fallen logs, the sun was bright and warm. The swish of a nearby fern told him some little marsupial was abroad. And still she sat there patient and silent. It all felt so intimate he found himself wanting to say something.

‘We started out at Broughams Gate in western New South Wales. It was fine while I was out there by myself. I loved it. It's so isolated being on the edges of the Strzelecki Desert . . .' Travis paused and took another bite of his sandwich. ‘But then I met Kat, we got married and all she wanted was a baby. She wouldn't let up, even though I worried that we weren't ready – anyway, she got her way and Billy was born.'

He heard Tammy suck in a soft breath, but she stayed quiet.

‘Well, Kat didn't cope so well out on her own. At Broughams there's only one house, so we moved to Smithville. There are four houses there, so she had a bit more company. I thought she'd be busy with the baby to care for and with a few others around . . .' His voice trailed off then started again, ‘But that didn't work either. She just got more and more resentful of being out bush. She was a country girl. I had no idea she wanted to go to the city, though she was saying by then that she always had . . . Anyway. So as a compromise we got a house in Broken Hill for her and Billy, and I tried to make it home every second weekend, even though it was an eight-hour round trip.' Travis sighed, tossed the dregs of his cuppa into the bush.

Beside him Tammy waited, wondering what was coming next.

‘I got home one weekend . . . It was a Friday night.'

The lights in Chloride Street were just blinking on as Trav swung his LandCruiser tray into the driveway of the little house crouched on the corner. He got out, swung the canvas kit bag over his shoulder and loped towards the back door. The house was silent.

The paper lay curled like a snake on the table. A series of small oblong Post-It notes, stuck on the laminate in a snail-shell-like spiral. The trail of paper looked like it was heading out of control, fighting for space among the slashes and chips in the laminate.

Butter

Vegemite

Toothpaste

Baby formula

Nappies

Bread

Milk

Trav let out the breath he'd been unconsciously holding. A shopping list written by a bored, artistically minded housewife. That wasn't so bad.

‘Kat?' he called.

He moved to the lounge door and yelled again, ‘Kat, I'm home.'

The house wasn't big and his deep voice came back at him, rebounding off the high, tongue-in-groove ceilings.

‘
Katrina?!
'

‘Whaaa . . .
whaaa
 . . .' A child. Woken by the sudden disturbance.

Trav strode into the nursery, decorated in a soft blue. A big old wooden cot was secluded in the corner, a carousel of bright clowns spinning gently in the breeze coming from the idly turning fan overhead.

In the cot lay a toddler. A screaming toddler.

‘Billy, mate. Hey, c'mon little fella. No need for that, little man.' And he awkwardly picked up the little boy, taking in his red, tearsodden face. The swollen eyes had come from more than a few minutes of crying. ‘Where's Mum, mate? Hey, c'mon.'

Not knowing what else to do, he lifted the two-year-old up against his broad, warm chest, patted Billy's little back. The boy snuggled in, comforted and lulled by the security.

Now he was really worried. Kat wouldn't have left the toddler. Sure, she'd been a bit weird lately but that was just because she was still struggling with the adjustment to being a mum.

‘Trav?'

He swung around.

‘Travis?' The voice moved down the passage.

‘I'm in here.'

‘Oh, thank heavens you're home.' The next-door neighbour, Beverley Spencer, looked relieved as she met him at the nursery door. ‘I heard the baby. I'd just come out into the garden and I ignored it to start out with. Then I started thinking I'd seen Katrina heading off down into town a while ago and I realised the crying was coming from here and, well . . .' Bev's voice bumped to a halt as she took in Trav's expression of horror.

‘Kat left the child here? By himself? What the –?'

The phone started ringing in the kitchen.

‘Here. Let me take the little man. You go answer the phone.' Bev grabbed at the toddler, ducking her head so he couldn't see her face. But Trav had seen a glimpse. Horror, pity, sorrow all blended together.

‘Travis Hunter speaking.'

‘Trav?'

‘Kat! What the fuck –'

‘Just stop and listen to me.'

‘Kat, you've just walked off and left Billy –'

‘I can't do it, Trav. I just can't do it any more.'

‘What?'

‘I can't be a mother, a wife . . .' Trav could hear her breaking into sobs.

‘Kat! C'mon. Come home. We'll sort it out,' he pleaded, wildly searching for something to say to hold her. ‘We'll get some help, talk to someone. We'll work it out! Kat.'

A loudspeaker came over the phone announcing a departure of something to somewhere. Trav couldn't hear it properly. ‘Where are you, Kat? I'll come get you, hon. Let me come get you and we'll talk this –'

‘
No! No, Travis!
'

Trav was shocked into silence. Kat never screamed, never yelled, not even when Bev accidentally sprayed glyphosate over her organic vegetable garden.

‘I'm going. There's nothing you can do to stop me. I don't want you coming after me Trav. I'm not coming back.'

And Trav could hear her crying. He went to interrupt – to say what? He didn't know. Anything to stop her from doing this to herself, to him, to Billy. She overrode him, speaking loudly to stop his begging.

‘Look after our baby. One day . . . one day tell Billy his mummy loved him . . . But I have to go. I have to leave to save myself, Trav. Can't you see? I've lost
me
. So many hopes, so many dreams . . . all gone.'

Trav could feel his legs starting to give way under him. Such a strong man, people said. Such a strong, devoted man who adored his wife so much. A lovely thing to see, especially these days with so much divorce going on. ‘Kat?'

‘I'm sorry, Trav. I'm really, really sorry.' The phone went clunk.

And she was gone.