THE CALL OF THE HIGH COUNTRY


TONY PARSONS



In the heart of Australia's rugged high country,
three generations of the MacLeod family battle
to make a living on the land.

As a young married couple, Andrew and Anne
work together to make the very best of their
property, High Peaks, but at what cost to their
happiness?

In time the property will pass to their son, David.
Handsome and hardworking, he is determined to
become the best sheepdog handler in the land.
Nothing is going to stand in his way - not even
the beautiful Catriona Campbell, daughter of the
wealthy graziers next door.

An inspiring and heartwarming saga of a family
battling through hard times, of a love that defies
all odds, and of dreams that won't be broken.

'A true-blue Aussie saga of family trials and tribulations,
success and sheepdogs, love and luck. Outback romance
addicts will find it just right.'
Australian Woman's WeeklyPENGUIN BOOKS The Call of the High Country


A. D. (Tony) Parsons, OAM, has worked as a professional
sheep and wool classer, an agricultural journalist,
a news editor and rural commentator on radio, a
consultant to major agricultural companies, and an
award-winning stud breeder of animals and poultry.
He owned his first kelpie dog in 1944, and in 1950 he
established 'Karrawarra', one of the top kelpie studs
in Australia. In 1992 he was awarded the Order of
Australia Medal for his contribution to the propagation
of the Australian kelpie sheepdog.
Since 1947 Tony has written hundreds of articles,
many in international publications. His technical publications
include Understanding Ostertagia Infections in
Cattle, The Australian Kelpie, The Working Kelpie and Training the Working Kelpie, now regarded as classic
works on the breed. His novels, The Call of the High
Country, Return to the High Country, Valley of the
White Gold and Silver in the Sun, are bestsellers.
Tony lives with his wife not far from Toowoomba in
Queensland and successfully showed merino sheep and
wool until 2005. He still maintains a stud of kelpies.
Praise for Tony Parsons' bestsellers

'Everything a good Australian novel should be - a bit of believable
outback, a bit of local community angst, some intrigue, and
past lives . . . keeps the reader guessing all the way through.'
Newcastle Herald

'... heroism in adversity, romance and the good old Aussie
bush, with an added dash of contemporary flavour. An armchair
alternative to McLeod's Daughters, with greater depth.'
Bendigo Advertiser

'This bestselling author delivers the goods again. Silver in the
Sun will transport you to an outback Queensland sheep station
where the river runs through the wide brown land and silver
trees gleam in the sun. I couldn't put it down.'
South Coast Register

'With each new book, Tony Parsons' rural readership grows.
It is easy to see why. Not only is the writing informed but it
will have readers edgy with expectation.'
Weekly Times

'Tony Parsons comes across as a very intelligent man hugely
experienced in Australian country life, and an incurable
romantic who likes happy endings. His many fans won't be
' disappointed with this new offering.'
South Australian Life
'Set in contemporary rural Australia, Parsons' books combine
an old-fashioned sensibility with a hard-nosed look at
the reality of farming in Australia today.'
The Age

'Anyone who is a fan of McLeod's Daughters will love this
novel. If you've ever wanted to experience life on an Australian
sheep station, this book will take you there.'
South Coast Register

'A story of love and triumph against adversity that will transport
you to the heartland of Australia's high country and keep you
spellbound until the very last page.'
Living Magazine

'A heart-warming saga of family tribulations, an intensely
powerful and moving story with a true-blue Aussie flavour.'
Country News

'This book comes from the heart of country Australia in
more ways than one. There is much to be said for listening
to a genuine voice of rural Australia.'
Courier Mail
The Call of the High Country


Tony Parsons






















Penguin Books

The publishers would like to thank Ian and Jill Watson
of Watson's Mountain Country Trail Rides in Mansfield,
Victoria, for their assistance with the cover photography.

PENGUIN BOOKS
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (Australia)
250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia
(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London, WC2R 0RL, England
First published by Penguin Books Australia Ltd 1999
24 23 22 21 20 19 18
Copyright © Anthony Parsons 1999
The moral right of the author has been asserted
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part
of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system,
or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright
owner and the above publisher of this book.

Cover photography by Alan Morgans
Typeset by Midland Typesetters, Maryborough, Victoria
Printed and bound in Australia by McPherson's Printing Group, Maryborough, Victoria
National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication data:
Parsons, A.D. (Anthony David), 1931The
call of the high country
9780140264616
I. Title.

A823.3

penguin.com.auTo my mother, Evelyn Margaret Parsons, who
was thrilled that this book was on the way, but
who did not live to see its publication.
Author's Note



It was once suggested to me by a visiting American friend
that I should write a work of fiction in which the working
kelpie played a prominent role. The suggestion stayed in
my mind for several years; in fact, through all the years
in which I was heavily engaged in writing three technical
books on the working kelpie. I kept thinking back to my
early years in the sheep and wool business when I had
spent a lot of time in the Liverpool Range region of New
South Wales. It was there that I met the sheepdog breeders
and handlers and saw the dogs that would shape my
future thinking on sheepdogs.
Nearly all of the great dog men who lived in the country
at the head of Half Moon Creek and Jimmy's Creek have
gone. The incomparable Quirindi master, Frank Scanlon,
has gone, and I doubt that we shall see his like again, or
the likes of the dogs he and his contemporaries worked
with in the high country of this story.
The she-oaks still sigh along Half Moon Creek but the
great stations like Collaroy and Brindley Creek are miniscule
in area compared with what they were in the early
days.


ix

There are no such places as Yellow Rock or Wallaby
Rocks but there are places just like them. I know because
I have ridden over them and I have watched the eagles
soaring above the peaks.
David and Andrew MacLeod are composites of several
men I came to know and call my friends, and Anne
MacLeod is an amalgam of several dozen women who
put up with me and fed me while their menfolk passed on
the knowledge and information that I sought with such
zeal. Even Sister Kate Gilmour had her counterpart in my
travels.
In truth, this book is a blend of fact and fiction. There
are names in it, surnames specifically, which are well
known in some country districts, but in no instance do
such names represent any person, living or dead. Other
things have been altered to suit the purposes of fiction,
such as the size and procedures of the Merriwa Hospital.
A lot of Merriwa people were very kind to me in many
ways. It is a long while since I rode a borrowed black
mare up onto the tops, and saw for the first time the kind
of country that Tom Bower and the Cronins worked their
dogs over. I regret that it has taken me close to fifty years
to do something worthwhile to acknowledge the kindnesses
of these people.
And of course we should not forget the late Athol Butler,
who worked the legendary Johnny and scored the
possible 100 points at the National in 1952. I was there
when they did it. A colour picture of Johnny hangs beside
my work table as a reminder of that dog and the genius
who handled him. Perhaps we shall one day again see
someone achieve what he did. It is something to think
about and to dream about.


X

The details I have given for the National Trials are not
precisely accurate, but have been changed to suit the story.
I am sure that I will be forgiven for the licence I have
taken. It is a long time now since those first trials were
held at the lovely Manuka Oval, and many great handlers
and their dogs are now only memories. I look back on
those early days of the National with real affection.
And who could forget the day Queen Elizabeth II and
the Duke of Edinburgh honoured the National and the
Australian sheepdog fraternity by attending the National
Trials? It was 1970, held up as the centenary of sheepdog
trials, and one of my kelpies, Karrawarra Sergeant,
obtained the highest score for a kelpie. A grand day and
a grand trial. I hope that all of those people associated
with the National draw some pleasure from what I have
written about it.
What I have sought to do is present a background that
represents the kind of environment that is reasonably
typical of the high country. Horses play a major part in
the handling of stock in hill country and some of the top
sheepdog men, notably Frank Scanlon (to mention only
one), were also outstanding horsemen. The same applies
today.
I hope that this book fulfils the hopes of that first
American who suggested it and also of the many other
people who encouraged me to give its writing first priority.
I loved writing it because so much of it is close to my
heart and took me back to my early years when everything
associated with the working kelpie was full of wonder.

Tony Parsons, OAM
East Greenmount, QueenslandPrologue





High, high above the top country of the Liverpool
Range a wedge-tailed eagle hung in suspended animation.
It was so high in the sky that it was nothing
more than a speck, lost from time to time in the white
fleecy clouds that drifted across the range. The eagle's
nest was on Oxley's Peak, but its wonderful soaring
flight carried it way beyond the Peak and it was now
directly above High Peaks, where, among the broken,
lightning-riven rocks and the caves, rock wallabies and rabbits found sanctuary.
Sitting on his pony on Yellow Rock, the highest
point of Andy and Anne MacLeod's High Peaks
property, David MacLeod watched the eagle and
envied it. From up there in the sky, the eagle would
be able to see all of High Peaks and much, much
more. Some bushmen said that eagles were bad news
because they killed lambs, though David had never
seen this. To him the eagles were wild and free andthey belonged to the high country, just as he felt he
did, As always when he watched the flight of an eagle,
his spirits lifted. He never tired of watching the great
birds. He knew where all their nests were on High
Peaks and the eagles' secret places were safe with him.
David had never wanted to live anywhere other
than High Peaks, except, perhaps, for the Whites'
place next door. It ran right to the top of the range,
like their own property, but it also had a wonderful,
grassy valley where Will White ran his brood mares
and yearlings. In this valley lucerne grew so well that
you could get several cuts a year without irrigation.
As David watched, the eagle dropped like a stone
towards Wallaby Rocks on the Whites' place. He lost
sight of it momentarily and then it rose, clumsily, appearing with a rabbit hooked in its claws. Its huge
wings propelled it upwards and then it banked, just
like an aeroplane, and flew towards Oxley's Peak. It
crossed the creek, genesis of the Hunter River, and
was lost to sight.
David knew he was going to be late home for lunch, but that was nothing new. He was always late
when he rode off into the hills with a kelpie running
beside his pony. The range country of High Peaks
seemed to cast a spell over him; a spell so powerful
he could not resist it. He was content to simply sit
and gaze at the landscape around him, to watch the
creatures and birds that inhabited it. At other times he put his pony to feats which, if his mother had known about them, would have brought grey hairs toher head and probably resulted in his confinement to
the homestead area. There was no fun in riding down
an established track; the real fun was making your own.
David MacLeod was not very old when he realised
that he had a special feeling for High Peaks. He had
heard his mother telling people that her son 'loved'
High Peaks. He wasn't sure he knew the meaning of
the word love, but he did know that there could be
no place else like High Peaks - and he was part of it.
He didn't like leaving the property for even half a
day, so the times he spent away from it at school were
almost intolerable. But at least he could see the range
through the windows of his classroom. And at lunchtime
he could sit and look at the peaks and remind
himself that come the weekend he would be riding
them.
What David really lived for was the day when he
would be finished with school and could spend all his
time at home. He didn't need to know all the things
they were trying to stuff into him. It wouldn't make
him a better stockman or judge of stock. .
'No, David, it won't make you a better stockman,
but it will make you a better man,' his mother chided.
'There are more things in life than properties and
dogs and horses. The sooner you realise that fact, the
better it will be for you. Besides, there is more to
being a successful property owner than you imagine.
Keeping a good set of books and records is also
important. Even your father went to school,' Anne
reminded him.'Not for long,' David replied.
'That was a great pity. Your father is a very intelligent
man and it was a real shame that circumstances
forced him to leave school prematurely.'
'Well, I want to be just like Dad. That's good
enough for me,' David said with as much conviction
as a ten-year-old boy could put into words.
There was another good reason why David
MacLeod virtually haunted the high country - it gave
him the chance to work one of his father's kelpies. It was very difficult country to muster; so difficult that
odd sheep missed out on getting mustered when they
needed crutching, drenching and shearing. Crutching
kept the britch end of the sheep free of stains and
dags, but flies also struck sheep on the body, especially
after rain in spring and autumn. Old hands told
of fly seasons so bad that flies would strike sweaty
saddlecloths and even crushed thistle leaves. A sheep
struck by flies and left untreated will eventually lie
down and die. So if you saw a struck sheep you first
of all had to catch it, which was not always easy in
the high country, and you then had to cut the wool
away with dagging shears to expose the maggots. Fly
dressing was applied to the affected area and the sheep
was released. Catching and holding a big range wether
was no easy task for David, although he was much
stronger than most boys his age. He had done his
share of axe work, helping out when his father was
'ringing' trees.
The trick in catching a wether was to try and workit into a blind gully. This was difficult to do if a sheep
was on its own, but quite often the 'rogue' sheep ran
in twos and threes. The first thing they would do
when they sighted boy and horse was to bolt for the
most inaccessible spot they could find. The job of
winkling them out then had to be left to a hill-wise
dog.
As David sat watching the eagle, he saw movement
in the scrub below him. It was a very rough hill,
covered with low scrub and odd kurrajong trees. He
thought it was probably either a wallaby or a roo, but
patient watching revealed it to be not one but three
wethers. Two were crutched so would have been
drenched at the home yards, but the third sheep had
been neither crutched nor shorn. It had missed last
shearing, which suggested that it could be a pea-eater.
These were sheep that ate a weed called the Darling
Pea and became quite mad, virtually impossible for a
dog to handle. They didn't survive very long. The
problem was that in dry times the Pea was often the
only green plant on the hills and some sheep wouldn't
leave it alone. On the other hand, the unshorn sheep
might be a pure and simple rogue which had hidden
in the scrub when mustering was in progress and could
not be flushed out with whip cracks.
David considered the situation and resolved to try
and take the sheep back to the shed. It was a long
way to pull three sheep, but if he let the woolly one
go, it would probably get struck and they would lose
it. His father hated losing sheep.It was lucky that he had old King with him. King
was an old blue and tan kelpie his father had won a
lot of trials with over the years, and he was considered
to be one of the best and brainiest dogs Andy MacLeod
had ever handled. David looked down at the dog and
hissed, but he need not have worried - King had seen
the wethers and was watching them intently.
'Keep out, King,' he said softly, so as not to
disturb the sheep. He wanted King behind them
before they realised there was a dog around, King slipped away up the hill, knowing, from
all his years of experience in the hills, that as soon
as the sheep saw him they would bolt for the tops.
That usually meant a lot more hard work to get
them back.
David took up the reins of his pony and waited
for King to make his lift. The two crutched wethers
saw him first because they had been 'wigged' and had
better vision than the woolly. They milled and were
undecided what to do. David soon realised that the
woolly wether was a rogue. Its first instinct was to
bolt. King blocked it several times and turned it back
to the other two wethers. It was then that David witnessed
a wonderful piece of dog work. As King drove
the sheep down the hill and away from the scrub, the
rogue turned and jumped for the gully which ran
right up to the tops. King leapt and snapped his teeth
not six inches from the wether's head. It crashed to
the ground, got up, and meekly joined the other two.
David rode down the hill after King and the sheepand then took up point position ahead of them. In
this fashion he eventually brought the three sheep
back to the home yards. There, the tall figure of his
father was waiting for him.
'Mum's worried as hell about you, Davie. Can't
you ever get home on time for meals?'
'Sorry, Dad. I found this unshorn wether and I
reckoned the best thing I could do was bring him
back. He's a bit of a rogue and took some handling.'
'Where did you find him?' Andy asked.
'The Whites' side of Yellow Rock,' David said.
'That's some trip. How did you keep them clear
of the other sheep?'
'It wasn't easy. I had to make a few detours. That's
why it took so long. Did I do the right thing in
bringing this woolly in?'
'I reckon you did, but I don't know how you
managed it.'
David grinned. It really hadn't been all that difficult.
Not with King to do most of the work.
'King did an amazing thing up at Yellow Rock..'
He's still a beaut dog, Dad.'
Andy nodded. 'He knows it all, Davie. Dogs get
better with age. They know all the short-cuts and
learn to outguess sheep. They get to know what sheep
will do in certain paddocks. Now, you'd better scoot
for the house. Tell your mother you're sorry you're
late and explain what you did.'
Andy shook his head as his son ran off. He found
it hard to believe that even David could have broughtthree wethers a distance of three miles, most of it
rough country and grazed by a couple of thousand
sheep. He had thought the boy was too young to
work at the local sheepdog trial, but it was clear that
he was wrong. He would have to let him have a go.
The boy was a freak. He could be a pain in the arse
the way he worried his mother, but he was a hell of
a kid for all that. He reckoned he'd been damned
lucky to have one like him. And damned lucky to get
a wife like Anne, for that matter. She could have done
& lot better for herself than marry him. Anne and
David. Andy could do anything, face anything, with
them to come home to.
He thought about shearing the woolly straightaway,
but knew that David would be back to see him
take its wool off as soon as he had bolted down his
lunch. He pushed the three sheep up the race and
then went inside the shed and loaded up his handpiece.
Yes, he would definitely enter David in the
local trial. The locals would reckon he had gone off
his rocker, but his boy would make them eat their
words. What a joke it would be if a kid beat Angus
Campbell. Wouldn't he blow a gasket! Angus thought
he was God Almighty where stock and dogs were concerned.
In fact, he thought he was God Almighty
where everything was concerned. But that was the
Campbells. They thought they were better than
anyone.
For all his snobbish ways, Angus Campbell had his
good points, as had his father before him. Old Angussenior had helped Andy in various ways, but he had
never been his mate. And Angus junior would never
be a mate either. Not in the way Will White was. You
lived your life and you let Campbells live theirs. You
helped out when you were needed, and sometimes the
favours were returned. That was the way life was in
the bush, and that was what made it so worthwhile.
It could be a hard life, but the good things certainly
made up for the hardships. Especially when you had
a son like David. Yes, he reckoned he had been
damned lucky the day he met David's mother.Chapter One





Merriwa was, by nature of its location, a place where
people took a good deal of interest in other people's
affairs. Somebody had once described Merriwa as
'landlocked'. Muswellbrook, three-quarters of an hour
away by road, was the town's closest large neighbour
and it was the favoured place for a day's shopping.
Over the range there was the village of Willow Tree
on the New England Highway, just a few miles on the
Sydney side of Quirindi. Forty miles north of Quirindi
was the city of Tamworth. To the north-west there was
the village of Cassilis and from there the road led on
to Coolah and the Warrumbungles. To the south-west
lay the town of Mudgee, the second-oldest settled town
west of the Blue Mountains, and north of it was
Gulgong, with its narrow, crooked streets which were
a reminder of the roaring days when the town was a
magnet for people everywhere and 'gold' was the word
on everyone's lips.Back in the early days when Merriwa was a small
hamlet off the beaten track, most of the surrounding
countryside had been divided between two very large
properties, Collaroy and Brindley Park. Little by
little these properties were whittled away by settlement
so that the area that was once occupied by
two owners was now owned by scores of farmers
and graziers.
Like a lot of towns, Merriwa thrived on gossip.
It was difficult to hide anything. So when Anne
Gilmour had first arrived there it did not take long
for the news of her to spread. Anne was, if not
exactly beautiful, very nice looking and, according
to those who made early contact with her, a bonzer
girl into the bargain. Her posting at the local school
was regarded as one of the major events of the
postwar years.
Everyone in the district knew that Andy
MacLeod was working his guts out on High Peaks.
So when news came that he was to marry the
good-looking teacher, Anne Gilmour, it made quit©,,
an impact. A couple of the more prosperous young
graziers reckoned they had the inside running with
Anne. That might have been partly true for a while,
but only until the night Anne met Andy at the local
dance.
The first time she had seen him, something turned
over inside her. Andy was a big man, ruggedly good
looking, and there was an aura of strength about him.
But for all his strong, silent image, Andy liked to

dance - and he danced very well. He was light on his
feet in the manner of all top horsemen, but Anne
could feel the hardness of his shoulder muscles as he
guided her about the dance floor. They danced
together for most of the night, with nobody daring
to cut in on Andy MacLeod.
The following weekend there had been another
dance, and when Andy didn't turn up, Anne nearly
made up her mind to leave the hall. She didn't realise
that Andy was a long way from Merriwa on a shearing
,job. She hadn't yet learned the full story of Andrew
MacLeod's struggle to hold High Peaks. She had
made some discreet enquiries - as discreetly as was
possible in Merriwa - about the big quiet young man
who was responsible for the strange emotions inside
her, and had learned, in bush jargon, that Andy was
a 'battler', a 'gun' shearer, a hell of a man in a fight,
and a top bloke with a horse or a sheepdog. She also
learned that Andy's father had been a little too fond
of whisky and had allowed the family property to sink
into debt, and later had been killed while coming
down off Yellow Rock on his horse.
Anne came to learn of Andy MacLeod's background
by degrees. MacLeod himself was not a man
to talk much, and most of her information came from
Jane Campbell, who was wife to Young Angus.
Nobody in the district - other than Angus
Campbell, of course - was in a better position to
discuss Andrew than Jane. Not only did the Campbell
property adjoin High Peaks, but Andrew often shore

Inverlochy rams and handled the odd horse for
them. He was also viewed by some as one of the most
eligible bachelors in the district, simply because he
was, to use Fiona Cartwright's words, 'such a hunk
of man'.
For upper-crust graziers like the Campbells, tennis
was one of the main social pastimes. Most of the
Merriwa set had splendid tennis courts. A few
outsiders were admitted to join their social events,
the most notable being local bank managers and
their wives - even some of the top graziers had big
overdrafts. The fact that Anne Gilmour was both
attractive and single made her a prime subject for
conversation at such gatherings.
Not long after she had met Andrew at the local
hop dance, Anne was invited to a tennis party at
Inverlochy. This was considered something of an
honour, and it signified that she had been given initial
approval. The invitation might have been inspired by
the fact that some of Anne's pupils had carried home
rave reports about their new teacher.
During Anne's first visit to Inverlochy, her mind
was consumed with the image of Andy MacLeod. She
had not seen him since the night of the dance and
that fact had been gnawing away inside her when she
accepted the invitation to Inverlochy. She knew that
his property adjoined the Campbells'.
After her first game of tennis, Anne sat down on
a white cane chair in the shade of a massive jacaranda
tree, looking up towards the range. The tops toweredaway into the distance, not as grandly or as high as
the mountains of Europe and western Scotland she
had seen on her memorable overseas trip, yet there
was something wild and wonderful about the Australian
mountain country.
'A penny, Anne,' Jane Campbell said, presenting
her with a cold glass of lemonade.
'I was thinking how grand the mountains are.
There seems to be a kind of magic about high places.'
'The mountains can be very dangerous too, Anne,'
Jane said as she sat down beside her.
'Is yours the last property on the road, Jane?' Anne
asked, knowing full well it wasn't. They had very
quickly assumed first-name status and Jane was
discovering that she liked Anne very much.
'No, there are four properties up the road to our
right, but the MacLeod place is the only one at the
end of this road. Andrew MacLeod joins us a mile or
so up, and then along our eastern boundary until you
get to the White place. Wilfred White is a rather
eccentric fellow who breeds thoroughbreds. Races
them, too. His twin brother was killed in the war,
and Wilfred was never the same again.'
'Do you see much of Mr MacLeod?' Anne asked.
'Oh, now and again. Andy has been shearing our
rams for some time and he handles all our horses.'
'Does he? Someone was telling me he is a wizard
with sheepdogs. I used to love watching the sheepdog
trials at the Sydney Sheep Show.' This was a slight
exaggeration because she had been only once.Jane looked at her and put her fingers to her lips.
'Shhh, I'll let you in on a secret. Angus and Andrew
are deadly rivals at the local sheepdog trials. Well, I'm
not sure whether Andy looks at it in that light, but
Angus sure enough does.'
'How far is the house from here?'
About three miles. When you turn the bend you
can see High Peaks homestead standing on a slight
rise.'
'Do you go up there very often?'
'To tell you the truth, I haven't been there at all. I've never had any reason to go. Andy doesn't
entertain, you see. He's not like that. He is not a
social person. A real bushman, Angus says. Angus
goes up there now and again. It's a wild place and
when it rains - rains a lot, I mean - the low-level
bridge gets covered and High Peaks is cut off by road.
Sometimes artists go there to paint. Apparently there
are some wonderful views from up on top - that's
the highest part of the range up there. I said that
mountains could be dangerous places and that's true
of High Peaks.' Jane pointed to where one peak
overshadowed all the rest. 'That's Yellow Rock.
Andy's father came off his horse there. I believe Andy
climbed down the side to recover his father's body.
Angus and Grandfather Campbell were with him. It
was the talk of the district. But that is Andrew. Pity
he's such a bushie.'
'What do you mean, "bushie"?' Anne asked.
'Andy is hard. I think he would be hard on

women, too. It's the way he's lived. He doesn't realise
there is more to life than work. Work is all he knows.'
Jane Campbell was blonde and very pretty. She
was also just starting to show her pregnancy. She was
a tall young woman with lovely manners, which was
to be expected of a person with her schooling.
'When is the baby due?' Anne asked.
'In August. I am going back to Mother's in Sydney
before then. Angus is hoping the first one will be a
boy. Carry on the line and all that. The Campbells
go back a long way. It's funny, you know, but back
in Scotland the Campbells and the MacLeods were on
opposite sides of the fence. The Campbells sided with
the English and were hated by the Highland clans.'
Jane went on to explain that Old Angus was the
son of a Lowland Scot and, although not as tall and
powerfully built as Andrew MacLeod, he was a man
of formidable presence. Both he and his son, Young
Angus, were of similar complexion, being a shade on
the florid side. They had the same piercing light-blue
eyes, and where the younger man had sandy, reddish
hair, his father's was now a silvery grey. Old Angus
had a real parrot's beak nose, which was less pronounced
on his son. It was said of Old Angus that he
still had the first penny he earned and that his bark was
worse than his bite. It took some people a few years to
discover that Old Angus had a softer side to his nature,
but nobody took him lightly. Old Angus was chairman
of the Pastures Protection Board and president of the
local branch of the Country Party.

Young Angus was a marginally sorter man, and
although a few years older than Andrew MacLeod,
the two got along well enough. It was a rather peculiar
relationship because although Young Angus considered
himself top of the grazier pile, he had the
greatest possible respect for Andy's ability with
sheepdogs and stock horses. He had never managed
to beat MacLeod at a single trial, which was a source
of mortification to him, as Angus believed he owned
the best of everything. He couldn't understand how
his border collies got walloped by MacLeod's kelpies
every time he came up against Andy at a sheepdog
trial.
There had been many arguments over dogs
between Andy and Angus in the past. Andy was a
kelpie man through and through while Angus
favoured the border collie, as his father had before
him. Angus could never understand how a man with
Andy's Scottish lineage could prefer kelpies to collies,
but could not very well criticise - at least not
openly - a man who had beaten him so often and so
convincingly. It would look like sour grapes.
Angus was one of the most successful graziers in
the whole Liverpool Plains region. He owned one of
the best horned Hereford studs to be found anywhere,
as good a flock of merino sheep as money and good
sheep classers could make it, and three times the area
of land owned by Andy MacLeod. Angus also owned
a lot more good bottom land on which he could
fatten cattle and run breeding ewes.

As Jane told her all this, Anne began to warm to
her. Fantastic a thought as it probably was, she hoped
the two of them could share a neighbourly friendship.
Her reverie was broken when Jane asked, 'Have
you met him?'
'Who?'
'Andrew MacLeod.'
'Oh, only once. I had a few dances with him. He
told me he had a property in the hills.'
'I see,' Jane said and gave Anne a quick smile. 'I
believe there are several young women, and one or
two older ones, who wouldn't mind dancing with
Andy MacLeod.'
'Is that so? And what does Mr MacLeod think of
that?'
'Andy is far from being a ladies' man. My
impression is that he doesn't know they exist at all.
I predict that he'd want someone very special. His
mother was a rare gem, I believe. They lived up on
High Peaks all through the war while Andrew's
father was overseas. She could do almost anything.
She milked the cows and had a lovely vegetable
garden. She was killed when her husband crashed
his car into the creek. It was up there at the bridge.
I am told Andy hardly spoke to his father again.'
'It must be hard on him, having to cross that
bridge all the time,' Anne suggested.
'I agree, but fortunately Andy is a very practical
person. By the way, is he a good dancer?'
'Very good indeed, but after all you've told me I

find it a little strange that a man like that would go
anywhere near a dance hall.'
'A lot of hardworking men like to dance. Where
else can they go to meet women? Andrew isn't any
different in that regard. He is one of those rare
people who is good at almost everything he takes
on. His mother taught him to dance when he was
quite young,' Jane said. Then, coming closer and
whispering in Anne's ear, she added, 'Just between
you and me, I think Angus is rather jealous of
Andy's sheer ability, especially when it comes to
sheepdogs.'
'But I thought that Angus was the livestock king
of the district.'
Jane laughed in her musical, tinkly way. 'Yes, but
when you've spent a lot of money importing a
dog from Scotland only to see it beaten by your
neighbour's homebred kelpies, it can affect you quite
deeply,' Jane said.
'Well, well. That's something I've learned today,'
Anne said and laughed.
'What have you learned?' Angus said, surprising
her from behind.
'That that peak up there is the highest point of
the Great Dividing Range for a fair way north and
south,' Anne replied, thinking very quickly.
Yes, it is, and a dangerous place it is, too.'
Anne made a mental vow that she would make it
to the top of Yellow Rock even if she had to do it
on foot - the most likely possibility anyway, as she

had never ridden a horse. That was something she
was going to have to correct.
It had been a most enjoyable afternoon at
Inverlochy, but it could have been so much better if
only she had found some excuse to visit High Peaks.
Anne sighed as she opened the door of her little car.
She took a last lingering look at the tops, purple now,
before she headed the Morris back towards town. He
is up there in those wonderful hills; a little empire all
to himself, she thought. The more she heard about
Andrew MacLeod, the more he fascinated her. It
seemed that he was perhaps the only real man she
had ever met. Damn him, she thought. The yearning
for him was still there. There had to be some way
she could meet him again without compromising her
reputation. There just had to be.Chapter Two





It was a warm, steamy night and some of the men
had drunk too much before coming to the dance.
Johnny Miller was one of a few men who had beer
in his car and would slip outside periodically. Normally
he didn't drink so much, but it was a hot night
and he had a thirst up.
Johnny was employed at the local post office when
he wasn't chasing young women in Muswellbrook
and Mudgee. He was a good-looking young man with
dark, wavy hair and blue eyes. Anne's mother would
have called them come-to-bed eyes. They had lit up
the first time Anne Gilmour came into the post office.
She was easily the best-looking woman he had ever
seen in Merriwa. Only Angus Campbell's missus
came anywhere near her. Johnny had an enormous
ego to go with his looks, and his many victories with
women had imbued him with the belief that he was
irresistible.

Anne thought that Johnny looked quite presentable,
but it only took her half a dance to discover what he
was really after. They were near the back verandah of
the hall when the music stopped and Johnny quickly
had her through the door and outside. One hand
came round and cupped a breast while he kissed her
neck. She could smell the beer on his breath.
'Johnny, stop it! Let me go.'
Johnny's ego ignored Anne's words as he reached
down and put one hand on her thigh. She was just
about to kick him when she heard a deep voice
coming from the direction of the doorway.
'Let her go,' it said.
'Piss off and mind your own business,' Johnny
said, without even glancing to see who was speaking.
He continued to bury his face in Anne's hair and kiss
her.
The next moment, he felt a pair of hands like steel
bands on his arms lift him bodily into the air. Despite
his struggles he was powerless to do anything. He was
carried down the back stairs and then sat down hard
on the ground. Then a stream of water was being
sprayed all over him.
Johnny got to his feet with fists flailing, but there
was nobody there to hit. He made out a large figure
heading up the back stairs two or three at a time but
he couldn't see who it was. He raced after his assailant
and was almost at the top of the stairs when the big
man turned and looked at him. 'Go home, Johnny.
Go home before you get hurt,' the deep voice advised.

Johnny quailed. There were only a couple of
men in the district who really frightened him and
one of them was staring him straight in the face.
Andrew MacLeod. Nobody in their right mind
antagonised Andy MacLeod. There were less painful
ways of committing suicide than at the hands of
Big Andy.
'Sorry, Andy. I didn't know she was your girl,'
Johnny said meekly.
'She isn't. But that doesn't mean she wants to be
mauled by you. Now go on home and everything will
be all right.'
Johnny backed down the stairs and disappeared
into the darkness. Anne was standing by the back
door of the hall when Andy turned from watching
Johnny's sudden departure.
'You didn't, did you?' he asked.
'Didn't what?' she asked.
'Didn't want to be mauled by him?'
'Of course not. And thank you for your timely
appearance.'
'Johnny Miller thinks he's God's gift to women.
I doubt that he will worry you again. Would you like
to dance?'
'I would now,' she said with a slight emphasis on
the last word.
'Good,' he said, taking one of her hands and
leading her out onto the floor.
Anne closed her eyes and let him guide her about
the room, feeling that while she was with Andrew

MacLeod she did not have a worry in the world.
'I was up near your place recently,' she said after
they had danced together for some time. She had lost
count of exactly how many dances there had been,
but it did not matter in the slightest while Andrew
held her in his strong arms.
'Were you?' he asked with his dark-grey eyes
looking down into hers.
Anne shivered. 'Yes. The Campbells told me
you're great with animals.'
'Did they indeed? Do you know much about livestock?'
he asked.
'Not a thing. But one of my current objectives is
to learn to ride a horse.'
'I see. Would you like me to teach you?'
'Could I have a better teacher?' she asked, with her
nerves tingling.
'That's a matter of opinion. If you would like to
learn to ride, I'll teach you. However, I'm a bachelor
and I live alone. If you don't want to risk your reputation,
you might choose to bring an escort.'
'You mean to your property?'
'That's where the horses are, Miss Gilmour,' he
said with a smile.
'Anne,' she said, trying hard to control her breathing.
'I will come on my own and I will bring a picnic
basket,' she said with a rush of words. 'When?'
'It will have to wait until I finish my shearing run.
That's a few weeks away.'
'Oh.'

'I'll contact you when I am finished. Sundays are
best for me.'
'You won't put me on anything too fierce, will
you?'
'Of course not. My mother's old mare will be ideal
for you. She is a real lady.'
'What should I wear?'
'Trousers of some kind. Jodhpurs might be best.
Have you got any boots?'
She shook her head. 'No boots.'
'You'll need something stronger than shoes. If you
can afford a pair of elastic-sided boots, I suggest that
you buy Baxter's or R. M. Williams, depending on
your pocket. And you should wear a wide-brimmed
hat.'
'You mean a sombrero?'
'A sombrero is a Yank or a Mexican hat. Any old
wide-brimmed felt hat will do. Don't want you
getting sunburned straight off.'
'Will we be going up Yellow Rock?' she asked with
much trepidation.
He grinned. 'That's not likely. We'll just have a
gentle hour or so about the lower country. If you
aren't used to riding, your bottom gets a bit sore, and
more so if you're climbing. You'll want to get
hardened up well and truly before you venture into
the high country.'
Thank you,' she said, smiling up into his warm,
open face.



The weeks dragged by as Anne waited for Andy to
contact her. To fill in the time, she visited the local
emporium. She had no trouble purchasing the items Andy had suggested. Later, when she tried them on,
she was quite satisfied, even pleased, with their
practicality and appearance. Please, please, God, make
me a natural rider, she thought. She also blew some
of her savings on a picnic basket, which she planned
to fill with tasty treats for the big day - if it ever
eventuated.
When Andy finally rang and made arrangements
for her to visit him the following Sunday, Anne
almost wept with relief.
The real excitement came on the actual day when
she passed Inverlochy and drove on towards High
Peaks. The bend in the road appeared and then she
was heading for the big homestead which stood on a
rise on the other side of the creek. The road dipped
rather sharply to the wooden bridge that spanned it.
Anne wondered if this was where Andrew's father had
run his car off the road. The creek was lined with
she-oaks and looked tranquil enough right then.
The Morris rattled across the boards of the bridge
and pulled up in front of a high mesh fence which
surrounded the homestead. Andrew came down the
front steps off the wide verandah and walked out to
greet her. Anne's heart skipped a beat when she saw
him. He was dressed in grey gaberdine trousers, a plain
blue shirt and his wide-brimmed hat, which had seen
decidedly better days. Yet he looked - well, just right.

'Welcome to High Peaks, Anne,' he said with a
broad smile. 'And I must say you certainly look like
a rider.'
'Thank you, Andrew. Boy, what a wonderful spot.
Can I have a look around or do we head straight off?'
'Whatever you like,' he said.
He took her around the house and showed her the
area his mother had devoted to the vegetable garden.
Anne also noted the trees and shrubs she had planted.
In the vegie garden there was silver beet mainly, some
lettuces and a row of healthy-looking tomatoes.
'I don't get much time to look after the garden,'
he said.
'What do you mean? It all looks to be doing well,'
she observed.
'Sheep manure. I bring it across from the grating
floor where the sheep stand behind the shearing board
in the shed.'
They toured the house next, and Anne wandered
from room to room in a state of subdued excitement
because deep down she wondered if this would be her house one day. She tried not to look too
interested and certainly not too nosy as her eyes took
in the kitchen. In the middle of the room there was
a huge and well-scrubbed pine-board table which she
guessed was about eight feet long. From a large
dresser cups hung on hooks and shelves were stacked
with plates. Two drawers probably held cutlery and,
in the deeper drawer, tablecloths. At the far end of
the room there was an enormous recessed range,

beside which was a box containing split firewood.
No doubt Andrew had plenty of dead wood to keep
this monster going in winter. But she was pleased
to see a kettle and a toaster next to a power point.
Jane Campbell had explained to her that because
bulk electricity hadn't yet reached this end of the
road, power and light were supplied by generators.
A wide verandah led off the kitchen and beside
the door to this verandah there was a rather elderly
refrigerator. Whether it was run by the generator or
kerosene she didn't like to ask. Outside, at the far
end of the back verandah, there was an old meatsafe
and another great stack of split firewood. When
they left the kitchen and walked up a wide hall she
counted three bedrooms. A quick peep was all she
allowed herself. The furniture was older in style and
solid and she thought it would come up beautifully
with some loving polish. Anne was sure it had seen
none since Andy's mother had died. One bedroom
was papered in cream and gold and the other two
were simply tongue-and-groove pine like the big
lounge room.
'It's a lovely house, Andrew,' she said, 'and you
have kept it very tidy.'
'For a man, you mean?' he said, grinning.
They came at last to the lounge room with its
massive fireplace, over which hung a large oval
mirror. Its base rested on a mantel shelf. Years of fires had darkened the mirror's surface but a touch
of gold frost and a good clean would do wonders,

Anne thought. To one side there was a sideboard
of dark wood. In the centre a woman's picture held
pride of place. She was handsome with a wonderful
head of dark hair, but it was her eyes and smile
that held Anne. She could see Andrew in that face.
There was a smaller picture, of a quite good-looking
man in military uniform. He had to be Andrew's
father. There were two other framed pictures of a
small boy, taken some years apart, which she was
sure were of Andrew. In between these photos and
on the mantelpiece were cups and other silverware.
They were all prizes won by Andrew with his dogs
and horses. Scattered about the room were big easy
chairs.
Anne turned from reading the inscriptions on the
trophies and said, 'I must go and see your dogs. I
really must, before we do anything else.'
'Do you like dogs?' he asked.
'I think I do. We had a dog in Sydney. It was
Father's dog really; a wire-haired foxie. Dad used to
get it clipped. I went to the Sydney Sheep Show and
the best part was the sheepdog trials. Some didn't
seem to be very well looked after and were awfully
scrawny, but when they worked they were so clever
you forgot about their appearance.'
'You can't keep working-dogs in fat condition,' he
said. 'They wouldn't be able to do the job. Sheepdogs
need to be in hardworking condition; if you've got
them in good shape, they will run all day. It's hard
work mustering sheep in these hills on a hot day, butat least here they have plenty of water close by. Out
on the plains, you can be a long way from water for
a long time. There's times you need to carry water
with you or else the dogs will overheat.'
They walked down the front path, out through the
gate in the high fence that surrounded the house, and
then down a slight slope towards a thick belt of trees.
'The high fence is to keep the chooks and guineafowl
out of the garden,' Andrew explained. 'Mum was
great for chooks and I still have a few ... they keep
me in eggs 'cause I sure hate shop eggs. Will White
gave Mum the guineafowl.'
There were large, hollow log kennels beneath the
pepperinas and kurrajong trees. Tied by a long chain
to each log was a prick-eared, short-coated kelpie.
Some were black and tan, others a kind of slate-blue,
and one was a red or brown with tan markings. A
little distance away from the adult dogs was a low
mesh pen in which several pups were playing with a
much chewed bone.
'Oh, the darlings. Andrew, can I pick them up?'
Anne pleaded.
'If you want to. They'll probably get you dirty.'
'What's a bit of dirt?' she said.
He registered the remark in his mind. It gained
Anne her first tick of approval.
The pups wriggled and tried to lick her face as she
held each in turn. 'I like the black ones with the tan
markings the best,' she said after she had held each
pup.

'That was the original kelpie colour,' he explained.
'The bitch that made the breed famous was called
Kelpie and she was a black and tan. Colour doesn't
mean anything so far as working ability goes, but the
black and tans are the easiest colour to keep looking
right. Them and solid blacks.'
'Can I see one work?' she asked.
'I thought you came to learn to ride,' he said.
'I've heard so much about your dogs I feel I must
see one in action. Then can we ride?'
'You're not getting chicken, are you?' he said, by
way of testing her mettle.
'Andrew MacLeod, when you know me better you
will learn that I don't scare easily.'
'All right, I'll show you a dog in action and then
it will be time for smoko. I've got the horses saddled
and all we'll have to do is pack the saddlebags.'
'Why are we doing that?'
'I thought we'd boil the billy and have lunch down
the creek a bit. What do you reckon?'
'That sounds very nice. I brought a fair bit of stuff
and it might not all fit in your saddlebags.'
'Not to worry. We'll fit enough.'
He went across to where a blue dog with tan spots
over its eyes was standing on top of its log. 'This is
King. I won the local trial with him last year. He's a
pretty fair dog in the hills. We'll walk up the hill a
bit to where I keep a few sheep for the purpose.'
Beyond the dog area with its shady trees there was
a small paddock which adjoined the homestead and

its outbuildings. 'This is what I call the cow paddock.
Mum used to keep her house cows here and we also
run the killer sheep for the table in it. There's a few
here now.'
Anne couldn't see any sheep because of the dips
in the ground.
'How big is it?' she asked. She was trying to come
to grips with acres in relation to properties.
'About twenty-five acres. I've been trying some
fertiliser on it. Looks like it's working, too. Here,
King. Way out!'
The blue and tan dog left Andrew's side and ran
out in a wide arc to the right. He reached the far
fence and raced up beside it, disappearing every now
and again in the dips and gullies.
'Will he find the sheep?' Anne asked.
'No trouble in this little paddock, not for King.'
Presently a dozen or so sheep appeared from
nowhere, and after them Anne could just see the
dog. He was directly behind the sheep and seemed
to be pointing them back towards where she and
Andrew were standing. The dog kept them coming
in what was virtually a straight line, standing far
enough off them so that they did not gallop but
came at a steady walk. It was as if the dog had the
sheep on a string. King brought the little mob right
up to within a few feet of where they were
standing, and held them together so well that
Andrew was able to catch one. He held it and
invited Anne to open its wool.

'Is that a male sheep?' she asked, noting its small
horns.
Andrew laughed. 'Half and half, Anne. It's a male
sheep that was castrated as a lamb. It's called a wether.
I run mostly wethers because a lot of this country is
not suitable for ewes and lambs. These hills are
regarded as purely wether country. I do run some
ewes on the lower country that adjoins Inverlochy.
Most of my cattle are there, too.'
'No bulls, I hope.'
'Only one at the moment, and he's a quiet old
fellow. I call him Bob after Bob Menzies.'
Anne patted King on his broad head. The dog had
never for a moment taken his eyes off the sheep and
still held them in a tight bunch. 'He's a lovely dog.
Will they all do what he just did?'
'They will when I've finished training them. That
wasn't a very difficult job for King. He can do a lot
better than that. What I like about King is that he is
such a sensible dog; he reads my mind. Really good
dogs are like that. He's never been a fussy dog. What
I mean is that he isn't all over you like a rash, as my
mother used to say. He's there beside you like a
shadow and, fair dinkum, you'd think he was a dopey
old dog, but the moment there's something to be
done, he's into it. Smart as paint, too. Look here.'
He dropped King's leather lead on the ground and
walked away a few yards. 'Crikey, where's that lead?
Must have lost the damned thing. King, you seen that
lead?'The dog was standing above the lead with his head
half turned towards Andrew. 'Well, pick it up, King,'
he said.
King picked up one end of the lead and walked
towards them. Then he stood on his hind legs and
presented the redhide lead to Andrew.
'Why, Andrew, that's wonderful,' Anne said. 'He
seems almost human.'
'He's probably more human than some people,
Anne. Comes a lot from having so much to do with
me. I talk to my dogs all the time, treat 'em like mates.
Some people never do. The more you talk to them, the
more they come to know. Lazy people never make dog
trainers. You tie a dog up all the time and forget about
him and you'll never have a smart dog. I can put a
saddle, a hat and a whip on the ground and King will
sit beside each when I tell him. What it gets down to
is that you've got to work with a dog. Course, some
dogs are smarter than others. You look for the smart
ones right from the time they're pups. You pick those
fellas out and start developing them. Come on back to
the house and we'll have a drink of tea.'
Anne produced some fruitcake and cream cakes,
at which Andrew whistled. 'You'll spoil me with this
tucker. I only get this sort of thing occasionally when
I go to Campbell's. And sometimes Gertie - she's
Wilf's sister - brings me a slab of cake. She and her
husband come up from Sydney once or twice a year
to see Will. I wouldn't have time to do any fancy
cooking even if I knew how. I buy a bit of cake when

I see it, but otherwise I stick to biscuits and bread.
Mum used to be great on cake. She won a lot of prizes
with her cooking.'
'Do you find it at all lonely here on your own?' Anne
asked when they were sitting at the big kitchen table
with their tea. 'After you lost your mother, it must have
been quite hard for you,' she said rather boldly.
'It was lonely at first, but I always keep busy. I
don't have time to think about it.'
This wasn't the answer Anne had sought, but she
pressed on. 'Who feeds your animals when you're
away shearing?' she asked.
'There's a young chap by the name of Shaun
Covers on the back road who comes up here and does
that. I pay him to keep an eye on things. He likes
the dogs and is good with them. In fact, I gave him
a dog to get him started in trials. It works out pretty
well. Now, want to ride?' he asked, after draining his
cup.
'Sure, Tex, bring on them cayuses.'
He grinned and nodded. It seemed she had a good
sense of humour. That earned her a second tick of
approval.
He led the way out to the horse yard where two
horses were already saddled and bridled. One was a
big old chestnut mare with a kind eye, something like
that of a Jersey cow. The other was a younger-looking
bay mare. Andrew buckled two saddlebags onto the
bay's saddle and then led the chestnut up to Anne.
'This is Lady. She is a lady so don't be scared of her.'

'She's so tall,' Anne protested. 'I couldn't get up
there.'
'Nonsense. Just put your left foot in the stirrup
and pull up with your arm. Like this.'
Andy was up in the saddle and looking down at
her in a flash. Then, in a second fluid motion, he was
on the ground again beside her.
Anne made two ineffectual attempts to climb into
the saddle but failed miserably each time.
'Once more,' Andrew urged.
She felt the firm pressure of one large hand on her
leg just above the ankle as she was lifted up and over
into the saddle. 'See, nothing to it,' he said, grinning.
'Huh, not with a man mountain helping you.
What do I do now?'
'Gather the reins like so and hold them down low.
Now, place your feet so that the balls are taking your
weight. Keep your heels down and your feet parallel
to the mare's sides. That's the shot.'
He moved over to his own mare and vaulted into
the saddle so quickly and smoothly that it seemed to
be done in the blink of an eye. 'Okay, now just put
a little pressure on your rein to turn her. Use your
leg against her side when you do it. All good horses
are broken in to respond to leg as well as rein
pressure. All right, let's go.'
'Not too fast, Andrew, please,' she protested.
He took a length of redhide from his back pocket
and, leaning across, clipped the end of it to the old
mare's bridle. 'That should ease your mind. She can't

get away. Keep your back straight and your elbows
close to your sides. They shouldn't flap about.'
They walked the horses past the dog yards and
down to the first gate, which led towards the high
country beyond the homestead. Andrew bent across
his mare to open the gate, led Lady through and then
turned and shut the gate. 'Now, where would you
like to go?' he asked.
'Nowhere too difficult. Can we just go to the
creek? It doesn't look too rough.'
'Sure we can. If we follow the creek down far
enough we come up against Angus Campbell's
boundary fence.'
'How far is that?' Anne asked fearfully.
'Not real far. Maybe two miles.'
'Two miles. I don't think I could last two miles.
Then there's two miles back.'
'We don't have to go so far. And I'm sure you can
make it.'
When indeed they did reach the boundary, Andrew
unclipped the lead. 'You don't need that any more.'
Apart from the strain on her legs and a slight
soreness in her rear end, Anne found that she was
coping quite well. After a while she began to loosen
up and could even take an interest in the surrounding
countryside.
They turned back from the boundary fence and
retraced the route they had taken. It was roughly
parallel with the creek, which was lined for most of its distance with she-oaks. In several places the creek

deepened and widened and Andrew said that he had
often swum in those holes.
When Anne looked at her watch she found that
they had been riding for about three hours. Time had
simply flown. Whether Andrew had sensed that she
was tiring or whether he had always meant to stop
under the big apple gum Anne did not know, but the
next moment she felt herself being lifted from the
saddle and placed gently on the ground. It felt a little
strange for a few moments, although after she had
walked up and down a few times, the stiffness almost
left her.
'You'll feel it later on,' Andrew said as he watched
her. He had gathered sticks and started a small fire
while she was trying to ease the stiffness from her legs.
He took a billy from the chaff bag on his saddle, filled
it from the creek and set it against the fire. He then
unsaddled the horses and spread Lady's saddle blanket
beside the trunk of the gum. 'Sit yourself down on
that,' he said.
Anne gratefully sank to the ground.
'Once you get used to riding, you won't have a
problem. It's just that your muscles are being used in
different ways. If you rode a bit each day for a week
or so, you'd be right as rain. Have a bath as soon as
you get back to the house. That will ease a lot of the
stiffness.'
Anne considered this suggestion. Taking a bath in
the home of a man you were going out with for the
first time seemed a rather intimate course of action.

She enjoyed the lunch and was pleased she had
gone to the trouble of selecting some nice ham to go
with the lettuce and tomatoes. She had also included
some cold baked potatoes, which she noted Andrew
seemed to fancy. The tea, laced with condensed milk,
was something else. There was more fruitcake to go
with the tea. Andrew ate every crumb, and so did she.
She hadn't felt so hungry in years.
'Do you do this often?' she asked.
'My mother and I used to have a lot of picnics.
I can remember coming here from when I was a very
small boy. I had a pony that my grandfather bought
for me as a birthday present. She was my first pony
and a real beauty.'
'What happened to her?' she asked.
A rotten snake killed her. A big brown. She was
too quiet and got too close to the mongrel. Why
anyone ever put snakes on earth God only knows.'
'God must have had a reason,' she said. 'Perhaps
it was to eat mice.'
'They wouldn't eat enough mice to make a
difference. One minute you've got a horse or dog
worth a lot of money and the next they're dead. I'm
real crooked on snakes. Snakes, foxes and rabbits.
They're all rubbish, in Australia at least. On one
property between here and Cassilis I heard they killed
two hundred and fifty thousand rabbits in six months.
The trappers were running traps three times a day.'
I suppose nobody knew how much they would
multiply,' Anne said as she accepted a second cup of

steaming tea. 'They probably thought rabbits would
be useful as food,' she suggested.
'More likely they brought them for sport, like they
brought the mongrel foxes.'
'I've read that some people think sheep have
caused problems, too. They say they've contributed
to erosion,' Anne said.
'Maybe there has been some erosion through
overstocking, especially when the rabbits were bad,
but sheep are very useful animals,' he said as he settled
himself against a log. 'Sheep would be one of the most
useful animals you could have. They'll clothe you,
feed you and you can even make cheese from their
milk. No kidding. Cattle are good too but they are
damned expensive things to feed.'
Anne sat back, enjoying hearing Andrew talk
about his thoughts and feelings. She sensed that there
was so much under his big, rough exterior.
'Sheep put this country on its feet,' he continued.
'Some people would say it's queer me being so keen
on sheep after what happened in Scotland.'
'What happened in Scotland?' Anne asked. She
knew from her history lectures that a great many
Scots had been executed, imprisoned and deported
after Culloden. Surely that was too long ago to affect
the feelings of a bushman like Andrew MacLeod?
'Between the English and the great and noble
clan chieftains, the Scottish countryside - or at least
large areas of it - was cleared of people to make way
for sheep, mostly Cheviot sheep. Crofts and houses

were destroyed and people were either left to starve
or forced to accept deportation. People who had
depended on their lairds for a thousand years or more
were simply told to leave. And when sheep didn't
return enough money, many ancestral areas were sold
to wealthy Englishmen. What do you think they did
with those ancient holdings? Used them as game
parks for their English friends. Game parks! They
even kept tallies of their kills. These ran into
thousands. And the new owners donned the kilt and
strutted like the lairds they replaced.
'People trumpet about British justice but there was
very little evidence of it where the Scots and the Irish
were concerned. There was very little justice and very little prosperity for the average person in Britain, and
conditions didn't improve until the royalty lost most
of its powers. Not that many politicians are much
better - they're only interested in short-term solutions
which make them look good. At least we can throw
them out every few years.'
'You do have some strong views, Andrew,' Anne
said.
'Sorry. I don't usually sound off. People say I don't
talk much. Grandfather Tormid used to say that what
a man did counted for more than what he said. That's
my thinking, too.'
Having sheep also gives you plenty of opportunities for working your sheepdogs,' Anne
suggested, keen to keep Andy talking.
That too. But there's more to it than that.

Owning a piece of land gives a fellow a kind of
independence. Maybe it is there in the MacLeod
blood because the family were great landowners in
Scotland. Some people would say that High Peaks is
just a rough hill-country property, but it's my rough
hill-country property, and while I keep paying back
the bank nobody can take it away from me. I can do
as I like on it, within reason anyway.'
'It really is lovely up here, Andrew,' Anne said with
a smile. 'What are we going to do now?'
He grinned in the way she was coming to like very
much. 'If it was dark we could go eel-bashing. You
ever been eel-bashing?'
'Eel-bashing! What in heaven's name is eel
bashing?' she asked, raising her long eyebrows.
'There's eels in this creek. Lots of eels. They're like
short snakes. You walk into the creek with a torch or
a lantern and belt them with a piece of steel. You can
use a twenty-two calibre rifle with the barrel under
the surface, but it doesn't do much for the rifle.
When you catch your eel, you pull the skin off like
a glove and cut it into short pieces for cooking. You
can fry them, with or without batter, or steam them.
They make a change from mutton and beef
'I don't think I'd like to "bash" anything, Andy,
but it sounds like the sort of thing my young sister
would like. She's coming to stay with me for a few
days, in only a couple of weeks now. Can we leave
the eel-bashing until then?'
'Sure we can. Is your sister like you?' he asked with

his eyes fixed on hers. Anne thought she had never
met anyone with such honest, direct eyes.
She shook her head vigorously. 'Oh no. Kate is
much more outgoing than I am. She is a double
certificate nursing sister and is doing her third
certificate right now. I can just see her eel-bashing. If
she fell in a deep hole she would only laugh. I'm an
old sobersides in comparison with her.'
'I think you're just right the way you are,' he
said with such candour that she was momentarily
overwhelmed.
'Why, thank you, sir,' she said, flashing him a
dazzling smile.
'You're a lot like my mother,' he added. 'She was
a doer, not a talker. It might sound silly to an outsider,
but I think her spirit is still here. Sometimes I can
hear her voice.'
'It is good to remember if the memories are
precious,' Anne replied, and in the next breath, 'I'm
sure I am taking up a lot of your time. Is there
anything you have to do?'
'Well,' he said, and hesitated. 'If you feel up to it,
perhaps we could ride into the next paddock and
have a look at the sheep in there. You need to keep
a close watch on them at this time of the year. Flies
are the problem.'
Despite her stiffness, Anne consented with a show
of enthusiasm. 'Of course I'm all right. Let's pack up
and go.'
But by midafternoon, Anne was feeling very stiff

indeed. Andrew must have noticed her wince because
he suddenly turned his horse and headed back
towards the creek.
'Where are we going?' she asked.
'Home,' he answered. 'I've seen enough.'
Anne did not want the day to end. For the first
time in her life, she was in the company of a man
she really liked. And she had a very good idea that
he liked her in just the same way.

A fortnight later, Anne found herself back at High
Peaks for another day's riding, this time in the
company of her visiting sister, Kate. The pair had
been invited to spend a few nights on Andrew's
property. Kate, who had ridden horses in several
countries and considered herself to be an adequate
rider, had jumped at the chance to spend a day in
the saddle in hill country - and she was equally
thrilled by the prospect of eel-bashing.
The trio rode and rested in turns, and Anne was
pleased to discover she was not quite so stiff on this
occasion. They ate lunch in a clearing up by Yellow
Rock, which Kate was eager to tackle on horseback.
Andrew had had to put his foot down because, although
he could see that Kate was a fair rider, only the most
experienced riders were up to handling Yellow Rock.
'You're a spoilsport, Andrew MacLeod.' Kate
taunted him in a way Anne would not have dared.
'I've been in much higher and rougher country than
this.'

'I don't want to spoil the day by having to go
down Yellow Rock to pick up your pieces,' Andrew
replied. And despite the jocular tone in his voice,
Anne - and indeed Kate - knew that his words were
not to be taken lightly.
They rode back to the homestead in the soft
enchantment of a perfect early summer evening.
Andrew left the women to enjoy the setting while he
fed the dogs and horses.
After dinner, when the sun had set, he hooked up
a trailer to the grey Fergie tractor he had swapped for
a shearing job, threw in a bale of straw for Anne and
Kate to sit on, and headed for the creek. It was a
bumpy ride and there were a lot of squeals before
they reached the creek.
'Andrew MacLeod, I'm sure you put us over those
bumps on purpose,' Anne said.
Andrew grinned. 'Just trying you out, Anne.'
'Where are these eels, Andrew?' Kate asked.
'All in good time,' he said and began to strip off
his clothes down to a pair of green swimming
trunks. Anne and Kate had changed into shorts and
brief blouses. Andrew took up his torch and handed
them each a length of flat steel with a makeshift
handle.
You'll want to take it in turns so you don't hit
each other,' he said as he waded out into the creek.
Anne and Kate followed in his wake. The water was clear in the light of the torch and Kate screamed with
excitement when she saw the first dark shape undulate

through the water. Andrew chopped at it with a
powerful downward slash, tucked the basher under
his left arm and thrust his right arm down into the
water. It came up holding a wriggling eel. He stuffed
it into a sugar bag he had tied round his waist and
then waded out into slightly deeper water. Kate made
an enormous swipe at the next eel, missed entirely,
lost her footing and fell into the creek. She came up
spluttering and laughing. She recovered sufficiently
to eventually claim one eel. Anne made several
ineffectual swipes and finally opted for holding the
torch while Andrew did the bashing. When he had
put half a dozen in the sugar bag, he suggested they'd
had enough. They retired to the bank where he lit a
fire and boiled the billy. The warm night and the
warmth of the fire soon partially dried their clothes
and induced the young women to feel relaxed and
sleepy. It had, after all, been a long day. 'It would be
good to sleep here by the fire,' Kate suggested.
'Maybe next time,' Andrew replied.
'We could have a barbecue here by the creek,'
Anne said.
'But I won't be here then,' Kate protested.
'You'll return eventually,' Anne said, wondering
how anyone could resist the allure of the high
country.
The next morning Anne and Kate were still asleep
when Andrew came back to the house after doing the
outside jobs. He was having his breakfast when Anne
and Kate appeared in the kitchen.

'We were going to get breakfast for you,' they said,
almost in unison.
'Then you'll need to get up a lot earlier than this,'
he joked.
'What is that in front of you?' Anne asked,
pointing to the brown jug on the table.
'Milk, fresh from the cow this morning.'
'You didn't tell me you milked.'
'You didn't ask. As it happens, I don't, generally.
Maybe once or twice a week, if I have time, but I
thought you would appreciate some fresh milk. I can
show you how it's done tomorrow morning, if you
like - if you can get out of bed early enough, that is,'
he said.
'It would have to be very early indeed,' Anne
replied. 'I have to be at school by eight-thirty.'
So the following morning, Andrew roused them
out just before five and, after an early morning cup
of tea, they made their way out to the cowshed where
a Hereford and Jersey-cross cow was chewing on some
hay. 'She's bred from my mother's old pure Jersey by
my Hereford bull. The old cow was a better milker
and gave more cream, but this one is good enough
for me and the pups.'
'Wow, look at those horns, Kate,' Anne said as she
eyed the cow with concern.
'She's as quiet as a lamb and, anyway, her head
goes in that stall so she can't move it very much,'
Andrew explained.
He put some feed in a tub and the cow put its

head through and began eating the meal. Andrew
secured her by pushing a piece of timber against her
neck and holding it in place with a steel pin. That
done, he pulled the near side rear leg back with a
length of cord and tied it to a post. He sat down on
a round stump about a foot off the ground and
washed the cow's teats with warm water. The steel
bucket was placed under the udder and he began to
milk.
'See, nothing to it,' he said as the milk frothed up
in the bucket. 'Who wants a go?'
Anne and Kate took a teat each and began to pull.
Between them they managed no more than about a
thimbleful of milk.
'No, like this,' Andrew said, pulling up and down
on the near teats. Fortunately, it was a very quiet and
tolerant cow, and while Andrew kept adding small
quantities of meal to her trough, she endured the
milking quite happily. It took over half an hour for
Anne and Kate to get half a bucket. They felt a little
deflated when Andrew told them that his mother had
been able to fill a two-gallon bucket in under ten
minutes.
'Practice, that's all it is,' he said. 'Practice gives
you the right technique. If you had to milk every
morning, you'd soon get it right.'
He put aside some of the milk for the pups and
took the remainder back to the house. 'My mother
used to separate every couple of days so we had our
own butter during the war when most people were

on rations. That's one advantage of being on a
property. You need never go hungry, if you're willing
to put in a bit of effort. A lot of people couldn't be
bothered as it's so much easier to buy everything at
a shop. No shops close by here, so I milk.'
'I wouldn't mind making my -' Anne began and
stopped suddenly. She blushed and looked away. She
hadn't meant to push herself but the words had just
slipped out.
'No, I shouldn't think you'd be lazy,' Andrew said.
'Either of you,' he added.
'I get the impression that hard work ranks very
highly on your list of priorities, Andrew,' Kate
suggested rather audaciously.
'Got no time for slackers and bludgers, Kate. I had
enough of that with my father and everything went
down the drain. If you don't want to work, you
shouldn't be on the land. Some, like Angus Campbell,
can afford to employ people so they can act the part
of squire, but most of us have to work damn hard to
keep things going. And you've got to want to do it.'
Will you whip your wife if she won't work?' Kate
asked even more audaciously.
The big man grinned. Anne relaxed. Andrew could
take a joke.
I don't even whip my animals, Kate. And I
wouldn't expect my wife to be a slave. I'd just expect
her to pull her weight.'
And what would you be offering her?' Kate
quickly replied.

'Me, and this place, a place to call your own... and
a good, clean life. The chance to build a decent
future. Something to pass on to your children. Is that
enough?'
'I reckon it is,' Kate said, and looked sideways at
Anne. There was a prior claim on Andrew MacLeod
and she realised she should say no more.
As a thankyou for letting them stay, Anne and
Kate made Andy a massive breakfast, which he ate
with little effort before helping them carry their bags
out to Anne's car.
'Thank you for everything,' Anne said.
'And especially for the eel-bashing,' Kate added as
the car drove away.
Andrew lifted his hand to his hat and walked back
to the house.
Kate sighed. 'Now that is a real piece of man,' she
said as the Morris crossed the bridge over the creek.
'And he certainly likes you.'
'You think so?'
'Of course. I can tell just by the way he looks at
you. Bet you ten bob he asks you to marry him.'
'It would be worth losing ten bob for that,' Anne
said very softly.
'You mean you like him enough to marry him?'
Kate asked.
'I love the big devil,' she confessed. 'And it's
making me miserable. I have wanted him from the
first night we met. I just wish to God he would make
up his mind what he wants.'Chapter Three





The following year was one of the happiest Anne
Gilmour experienced in her life. Years later, as she
looked back on this period, she realised that Andrew
MacLeod had been a much wiser person than had
been apparent at the time. She was so concerned that
Andrew wasn't really serious about her that she failed
to realise he was actually preparing her for a life on
High Peaks.
While they continued to go to dances, more and
more time was spent on High Peaks, out on the
bills on horses. Anne found herself enjoying her
greater mastery of the old mare. There were also
many trips together to sheepdog trials and camp
drafts, which are similar to sheepdog trials except a
horse is used instead of a dog. In the dog trials,
Andrew won the Maiden and Open Trial with a
black and tan kelpie called Ned, and in the final of the Open, Ned was the only dog who penned

his sheep. Angus Campbell ran fifth, and his dog
didn't even seem in the same class.
The weekend after the trial, Andrew picked Anne
up in his old truck and they headed out to
Murrurundi for the Hunter River championship
campdrafts. Anne was full of interest in the drafts,
but at the end of the day she decided that the dog
trials appealed to her more. She did like horses, but
it seemed to her that there was more science in
working a dog in trials.
She said as much to Andrew on the way home.
'You're right, Anne,' he said. 'There's more to dog
mailing than campdrafting, and anyone who has ever
tried the two would agree with you. An old hand once
said to me that having two reins in your hand to
control your horse is an easier option than trying to
control a dog a hundred yards away. You can exert a
positive influence on your horse by your own actions,
but if you haven't trained your dog well enough to
be able to stop him at a distance, you won't win a
sheepdog trial.'
The next time Anne went out to High Peaks she
found a new grey gelding in the horse yard. 'Where
did you get this fellow, Andy?' she asked immediately.
'He was going to waste so I cut him out by
shearing; got the horse in return for his value in
labour,' he said. 'I reckon you're ready for a bit more
horse than the old mare. He's yours.'
'What? You mean he's really mine? A present?'
'I reckon,' Andy said.

Anne turned around and couldn't resist kissing
him. 'You're so sweet,' she said.
'You just going to look at him all day or are you
going to try him out?'
'I reckon I'll try him out,' Anne said, imitating
Andy's deep voice and bush drawl.
'Right. Get a saddle on him and let's be off. The
day is nearly done.' It was only nine a.m. but by then
Andy had usually put in a couple of hours' work.
'Yes, sir. Right away, sir,' she said, bowing her
head in the fashion of an obedient servant. She was
going to try taking the mickey out of him just to see
how he would take it.
'I didn't mean it like that,' he said gruffly.
'That's all right, Andy,' she said softly. 'I know
you didn't. If I thought you did I would tell you what
you could do with your horse and with High Peaks.
As it is, thank you very much. A few months ago I
couldn't even get on a horse and now I own one.
I can't thank you enough.'
She named the gelding Turk, and in time she
came to truly love him. He was a very calm horse
with lovely manners and he could handle the hills
just about as well as the homebred horses. On Turk,
Anne could ride almost anywhere - except up Yellow
Rock.
The day she mastered Yellow Rock was memorable
in many ways. It came about three months after Andy
had presented her with Turk and marked the day she
passed Andy's test of horsemanship. At the time, there

was no indication that this day would be different
from any other. It was a delightful autumn morning
with a crispness in the air that presaged the coming
winter. The hills were green from the autumn rains
and there was not a cloud in the sky.
'Better pack for the day,' Andrew said when they
had finished breakfast. 'It might be a long one.'
Anne nodded. They were often out all day, especially
when mustering for crutching and drenching. She
could now handle these long days without a twinge in
her body. Moreover, she could take one of Andy's older
dogs and muster sheep on her own. The sheep she
collected would then be taken to Andy and together
they would inspect them for flies or, alternatively, drive
them down to the shearing shed.
This time the day began very much as usual,
except that when they reached the foot of Yellow
Rock they did not ride to right or left of the big
mountain. Andy looked across at her and smiled.
Anne thought that when he smiled he was as
handsome as any film star. 'I reckon it's time you
tackled Yellow Rock,' he said casually.
Anne caught her breath and looked up at the side
of the mountain. 'If you say so, Andy,' she said, with
absolute faith in his judgement.
'It's not all that bad going until you hit the last
third or so. Of course it's not that easy either. But
the real test is near the top. The track becomes very
narrow and if you take a wrong step you can go over
the side. What makes it worse is that the last part of

the mountain is pretty thick with big carpet snakes.
A lot of horses can't handle snakes. It's the only thing
I am not sure of with your grey horse. When we get
up a bit I'm going to put a rope round your waist.
If the worst comes to the worst and the horse goes
over the side, I'll have hold of you. You'll see why
when we get up there. Still want to give it a try?'
Anne nodded. She couldn't possibly let on how
scared she was really feeling. She sensed that this was
Andy's ultimate test of her.
'Andy, I'd follow you to hell and back,' she
confessed. 'Let's do it.'
He nodded and smiled again. 'Good girl. Just do
as I tell you and pay attention to your horse.'
The first pan of the climb was steep enough,
although the track was reasonably wide. But the higher
they climbed the narrower it became. It was much
rougher, too, because they were climbing through a
maze of broken rocks, some massive and some partly
worn away by erosion. They also passed caves and
dense pockets of scrub.
After climbing for around half an hour they came to a small grassy clearing edged by scrub and stunted
gums. Andrew dismounted and uncoiled the rope that
was tied to his saddle. He looped the end and handed it up to her. 'Put this over your head and round your
waist,' he said.
Anne did as he asked and he tied the rope so that
would not slip.
I want you to go first,' he said. 'That way I can

watch you and I'll have time to react. If you're behind
me, you could be over the edge before I have the
chance to do anything.'
'That's comforting,' she said nervously.
'Keep a firm pressure on the reins, but if anything
happens and you feel the horse going over, kick your
feet out of the stirrups and leave the rest to me.'
'It just gets better and better,' she said grimly.
'Want to turn back?'
'Not on your sweet life ... not if it kills me.' God,
the things a girl does for the love of a man, she
thought.
'Okay, away you go,' he said.
The grassy plateau gave way almost immediately
to a grotesquely angled track that reared skywards and
was perhaps three feet wide. The confusion of rocks
became greater as they climbed.
'Landslides,' Andy called from behind, by way of
explanation.
Two dark-furred wallabies spun away from a tiny
patch of grass beside the track and with wonderful
agility jumped from boulder to boulder and
disappeared into the labyrinth of rocks and caverns.
Anne noticed there were lots of smashed trees and
big splintered branches littered around them, and
Andy, as if reading her thoughts, said, 'Those trees
were smashed by lightning. The ironstone rocks up
here act like a magnet.'
'Remind me never to be here during a storm,' she
said.

%
The track dipped a little and then narrowed. The
mountain plunged away to the left and just ahead
Anne could see where there had obviously been a
considerable landslide. Tons and tons of earth, shale
and rocks had poured down off the uppermost section
of the mountain and across the track. Over the years
this had built up into a huge deposit across a steeply
plunging gully.
'We found my father just beyond that slide,' Andy

said.
'You mean you went down there?' she said,
looking over her shoulder at him.
'Don't look back. Keep your eyes on the track.
Are you okay?'
'I'm petrified, but I guess I'm okay.'
'Once we get past this bit of track the going gets
slightly better. The track turns back to the right.'
'Andy, don't tell me you can bring sheep down
from here?'
'I've taken a few down this way, but mostly we
cut the fence into Wilf's and take them down the
hill to the bottom country and in through the lower
gate.'

But there's no grass up here.'
There is on the other face, and that's where most of them feed. They come up here in the evening to
camp.'
Whew,' Anne breathed to herself. The words of the poem The Man from Snowy River kept coming back to her. She began to have some idea of what it

would be like to ride the Monaro Range.
Turk twitched his ears and looked to the right.
'He's smelling the snakes, Anne. Pull his head back
and keep him pointed up the track.'
Anne's heart skipped a beat and then, almost
miraculously, she found that they were over the very
steep section of track and were turning away from the
actual face of the mountain. She was now riding
through a narrow gully that seemed to bisect the very
peak itself. Water was trickling down the ravine and
Turk lowered his head to drink.
'Keep him going, Anne,' Andy called.
She nudged the grey and he responded
immediately. They rode on through the gully until it
widened into a very small clearing seemingly gouged
out of the mountainside. There was no track there,
only a steep slope of shale and rocks.
'We'll have to leave the horses here, Anne. We'll
go the rest of the way on foot.'
Andy was beside her knee and untying the rope
from around her waist. He helped her out of the
saddle. She had thought her legs were well
conditioned for riding but they still shook as she felt
the ground beneath her. They were unsteady from
the continual pressure of having kept her legs tight
against the horse as they had climbed.
Andy collected the saddlebags and handed the
empty billy to her. 'There's a spring behind that rock,
Anne. Why don't you fill the billy and then we'll
attack this slope?'

Anne found a tiny spring bubbling clear water,
which she used to fill the billy.
As they set off, Andy cautioned her, 'Don't try to
climb straight up the slope. Climb across. If you get
into trouble, I'll be right behind you.'
It was with this security in mind that Anne managed
to climb to the top. She could hardly believe she had
made it there, right to the top of Yellow Rock. She
pulled herself to her feet and looked around.
'Wow,' she said, with wonder in her voice.
'It's quite a view, isn't it?' Andy said as he came
up to her.
The immensity of the view stunned her. It was as
if they were in another world, the only two people
for miles around.
To their right was another peak, equal in height
to the one on which they stood, and farther away still
was another big peak, showing darkly against the
horizon. Andy caught Anne's gaze and pointed.
That's Mount Oxley. It's four and a half thousand
feet high,' he said. 'And right across there is
Murrurundi and Wingen, where we went to the
campdrafts. Now, if you look away to the left, you'll see the homestead. It's just a speck from here.
And back behind us in that haze is Merriwa.'
Is that Wallaby Rocks across there?' she asked.
It sure is. The boundary fence is between here and
that peak. Will White owns all that country down
through there. That's his house there by the dark
green patch. It's his lucerne paddock, see?'

She nodded. 'And one day you would like to add
all that land to High Peaks?'
'I sure would. It would make a very decent
property then. Wilf's lower country is pretty good
and I could run more cattle and also make a fair bit
of hay. I'm not geared to making hay on High Peaks
because I haven't the equipment to do it. Will has
some farming plant and he's got that fairly level bit
of country, which I don't have. Now, are you ready
to eat?'
'I've never been more ready in my life,' she said.
There were pieces of storm-hit trees even on the
peak, and in his wonderfully dexterous bushman's
way Andy soon had a fire going and the billy
boiling.
'This is heaven,' Anne said as she sat eating her
sandwiches and sipping tea. 'The view is absolutely
unreal.'
'Worth the effort?'
'Oh, yes, worth the effort. Mind you, I wouldn't
want to do it every day of the week.'
'I can understand that.'
'Today was just the right day for the climb, and
Turk was a perfect gentleman. Lady wouldn't have
made it, would she?' Anne asked.
'Not now. She used to do it years ago when
Mother would come up here on her own.'
'I dips me lid to your mother,' Anne said gravely.
'You two would have got on very well,' Andy said.
He looked down into the valley of the White

property for a few moments before turning back to
her.
'Have you ever thought about becoming Mrs
Andrew MacLeod?' he asked.
'Oh, once or twice,' Anne said with a smile. If he
had meant to surprise her, he had succeeded, but up
there in that world beyond the world, could anything
be surprising?
'You have, eh? What do you think of the idea?'
'Well, I've never heard you say that you love me.
Do you?'
'I don't know,' he said with surprising candour.
'If what I feel about you is love, then I love you,' he
said. 'You're the only woman I've met who I want to
have with me on High Peaks. I feel differently about
everything when you're with me. The place seems
empty when you're gone. If that's not love then I
don't know what it is. I sure like you an awful lot.'
'But you've never even kissed me, not even when
I've kissed you.'
'I didn't want to risk losing you ... didn't want
you to think I was someone like Johnny Miller.'
'There was never any danger of me thinking that,
big fella. You could have tried to kiss me any time
you liked. You know a hell of a lot about the bush,
but you know very little about women.'
'Maybe you could teach me,' he suggested.
'Perhaps I will,' she said.
'Does that mean you'll marry me?'
'Does that mean you're asking?'

'What?'
'Ask me properly.'
'Ask you what?'
'Ask me to marry you.'
'Anne Gilmour, will you marry me?'
'There, that wasn't so hard, was it?'
'No, it wasn't too hard. So what do you say?'
'Of course I'll marry you. I'd nearly given up
waiting for you to ask. Are you ready to kiss me
now?'
Andrew's response was immediate and overwhelming.
Anne felt herself being lifted off the ground so
that her eyes were several inches higher than his and
he gazed up at her. Then she was lowered until their
lips met and she surrendered to his passionate kiss.
'Wow, that was worth waiting for,' she said
afterwards, regaining her breath.
Andrew held her crushed to him for an eternity
until she took his hand and held it tightly. 'Try it
again,' she said. So he did and it was even better the
second time.
'We are going to be very happy here on High
Peaks, aren't we, darling?' she said.
The look of joy on Andy's face gave her the
answer.
A little later he sat with his arms around her while
they surveyed their kingdom. Andrew had his back
wedged against a large piece of rock. He was feeling
very pleased with himself, having won the woman he
had wanted since the first time he saw her, the

woman he had thought might be out of his reach.
'I wonder what it would be like to stay up here all
night,' Anne said with her lips close to his left ear.
'Perhaps it would be a bit like looking down from
heaven and watching one side of the world fade into
darkness,' he said.
'That's a thought,' she said. 'I'd like to try it
sometime.'
'Try what?' he asked.
'Staying the night up here.'
'I think we ought to leave that until after we are
married,' he said. 'It might be more than a man could
stand.'
She blushed and he pressed her closely to him.
'Speaking of which, when is the marriage to be?'
he asked. 'I can't guarantee my impeccable conduct
for too much longer.'
'I was beginning to think you only wanted me for
my domestic value,' she said and chuckled.
'You're having me on. I don't give a damn for all
that. I've always managed on my own. I just want
you.'
She reached up and ran her fingers through his
thick brown hair. 'We've never talked about children.
I suppose you do want children?' she asked.
Of course. No good a man busting himself to
make a good life and then have nobody to leave it to.
I reckon three or four kids would be great. This is a good, clean, healthy place to rear children, and I think
you'd make a great mother. But enough of that. We'd

better get going if we want to make it down the
mountain before nightfall.'
So they came down off the peak of Yellow Rock,
both in a kind of daze.
'How on earth am I going to concentrate on
getting down this slope now that I'm engaged?' she
said.
'You'd better,' he replied. 'I don't want to lose you
now.'
Chapter Four





Anne and Andrew had a very brief engagement.
They were married three months after Andy's proposal
in the small church near where Anne had been
brought up. It was the second trip to Sydney for
Andrew. After Anne had agreed to marry him, he had
driven down to meet her parents, Jack and Mavis
Gilmour. Jack was a no-nonsense fellow who ran a
small printing business. His hobbies were fishing and
following the St George rugby league team. The two
men hit it off immediately. Jack was impressed by
Andrew's honesty, and admired the fact that he didn't
make out he was better than anyone else simply
because he owned a sheep property.
Looking back later, Anne thought it was a lovely
wedding. It was not large in terms of numbers, but
those who were there were all dear friends and close
relatives. Andrew looked terrific, big and strong and even more ruggedly good-looking in his smart attire.Paddy Covers was Andrew's best man. Paddy, old
now, was Andrew's automatic choice, having been more
a father to him than his own father had been. Paddy
was the greatest man he knew - apart from Tim Sparkes,
who was away to blazes on the rodeo circuit.
Andrew couldn't believe how beautiful Anne
looked as she came down the aisle on the arm of her
father. He reckoned the night he met her at that
dance was the luckiest night of his life. Later, with
Anne dressed in her going-away outfit, he thought it
seemed incredible that she had become his wife.
Andrew and Anne had had a couple of minor
differences of opinion about the wedding arrangements.
Andrew agreed to have the wedding in Sydney
as he felt it was the bride's prerogative to choose. He
demurred about going away for a honeymoon because
of the cost, not only of the honeymoon itself but also
because he would have to pay someone to look after
High Peaks while they were away for the three weeks
Anne proposed. When it got down to the money,
Anne shamed him by offering to pay for half. This
he could not countenance.
For her part, Anne, while very much looking
forward to becoming mistress of High Peaks, realised
full well that this was probably the only time she
would be able to have a decent holiday with Andrew.
His idea of a break was a day at a sheepdog trial or
campdraft, but she finally got him to agree to a
honeymoon in Queensland with the lure of a visit to
the Sparkes property north of Rockhampton.So as she left the wedding reception on Andrew's
arm her heart was singing. There were to be three
lovely weeks in Queensland and then it would be
back to High Peaks. What more could a girl ask of
life?
Tim Sparkes was a horsebreaker who followed the
rodeo circuit and was regarded as one of the best all
round cowboys in the country. When he wasn't
attending rodeos and breaking in horses, Tim was
helping out on his Uncle Bob's cattle property near
Rockhampton. Bob Sparkes maintained a top stud of
stock horses, and Andy reckoned that as they were
within a bull's roar of Rockhampton it would be
downright bad manners not to drop in on Tim - and
have a look at the horses Tim was always raving on
about.
Bob Sparkes was a bachelor who ran a heap of
cattle and had time for only three things in life stock
horses, whisky and his nephew, Tim. He was a
lean, sandy-haired bushman with grey eyes that
seemed to bore right through you. Tim had told his
uncle a lot about Andrew MacLeod, and Bob reckoned
his nephew wouldn't have been laying it on.
For all Andy's size, Bob thought MacLeod sat a horse
as well as anyone he had ever seen. He was even more
surprised to find that Anne, originally a city girl,
could sit a horse pretty well, too.
Bob insisted on taking the newlyweds to see the
whole property. Bearing in mind the size of the place,
this was something of an undertaking, especially forAnne. Andrew had shorn and broken in horses on
some very big properties, but Anne had never been
on a property so large, nor had she seen so many
cattle. By the end of the day she was feeling very
rocky. And that was not the end of it. After dinner which
Bob and Tim threw together and was mostly
comprised of pieces of steak as large as a plate - there
was the warning. Over several glasses of whisky, Anne
heard so many wild and often improbable stories that
her head was spinning. She whispered in Andrew's
ear that if she didn't get to bed soon, she would fall
asleep right there in her chair.
The next day Bob ran in about thirty steers so they
could have an on-the-spot campdraft between Andrew
and Tim with himself as judge. Andy cleaned up Tim
and won the unofficial 'championship'. Bob told
Anne, who had sat on a horse beside him for the
whole time, that it was one of the best days he had
ever put in.
'You've got a great lot of horses here, Bob,' Andy
said when they had been at it for most of the
following day. 'A real even lot of horses. Some of
those mares are the best I've ever seen, and there's a
couple of colts that could be real bottlers. That bay
colt could make anything. They're such a good
tempered lot, too. There's good horses in our Hunter
River Radiums but some are a bit hyper and cattle
mad. Whatever else you put in them has done the
job.'
Bob grinned. The big man knew his horses all

right. 'Next time Tim is heading down your way I'll
send you something along with him,' he said.
'Better let me know what you want for it, Bob.
Money isn't real plentiful back home. I'm still paying
off the bank and blasted death duties.'
'You send him a good horse and I'll pay for it,'
Anne said. 'It will be my wedding present to Andy.'
'Forget the money, young woman,' Bob said
gruffly. 'I can tell a man who appreciates good horses,
and let me tell you that I've never seen a better
horseman than your new husband. Besides, Tim tells
me he can stay at your place any time. The horse will
be a wedding present from Tim and me.'
So that was how Andy came to get his first Sparkes
colt. Maybe now he would be on the road to breeding
the kind of horses he had always set his heart on.
'Good old bloke, that Bob,' Andy said as he and
Anne drove away from the Sparkes property that
afternoon. 'Got a big lump of country with a heap of
second-rate cattle yet he's got as good a lot of horses
as there is in the country. I'm afraid that the property
is going downhill, though. Did you see the fences?
Needs a young, active bloke to pull it into shape.
You'd think Bob would get Tim to stay and run the
place. Either that or employ a good man. The old
fella must be worth a heap. The blasted whisky has
got the best of him and he doesn't care any more .. . except about his horses. If only Tim could
stop chasing rodeos around the country.'
They sure are a pair,' Anne said. 'I heard Bob

telling Tim that you were strong enough to hold a
bull out to piss and yet you had hands like a feather
on a horse.'
'I'm shocked, Anne. I never thought I would hear
you say something like that.'
'Only repeating what I heard,' she laughed.
'Well, I hope you never hear some of Tim's yarns.
You wouldn't believe the stories he tells from life on
the circuit.'
Andy and Anne talked and laughed all the way
back to High Peaks.
'I must say it's been a lovely three weeks,' Anne
said when they finally arrived home. 'Now it's time
to do some work before school starts again.'
And work she did. Most of her goods had been
moved up to High Peaks from the house she had been
renting in town. It had been decided, mainly for
financial reasons, that Anne would carry on teaching
for the time being. She had only another three weeks
before that came around. She loved teaching and, as
much as she wanted to spend time at High Peaks,
she didn't want to give it up. She worked ferociously
those first three weeks, because after school began she
would have only weekends and holidays to get High
Peaks homestead and its surrounds the way she
envisaged it all could be. There was so much she
wanted to do that she almost didn't know where to
begin. The vegetable garden had languished for years,
and she set aside two hours every morning to extend
Andy's limited efforts. There was plenty of water

because Andy had installed a petrol engine down by
the creek which pumped water into an overhead tank
and provided good pressure for quite an area of
garden. Andy carted in sheep manure and dug it into
the soil, and Anne planted more silver beet, tomatoes
and lettuce, and added a variety of herbs, such as
thyme, sage, parsley and mint. The rest of the garden
was in something of a mess, too, but the vegetables
were given priority. 'They will save us some money
and there's nothing like eating your own home-grown
produce,' she said as she surveyed the fruits of her
first week's toil. Andy looked at her admiringly. She
was dressed in a pair of brief shorts, a blouse and a
wide-brimmed straw hat. She certainly looked a
picture.
Anne also mastered milking the cow, and in a
matter of weeks she had reduced her milking time to
just over ten minutes. She was determined to get it
under ten minutes, and before the next school
holidays came around she had achieved that goal.
After she finished in the garden she would cook
and sew in the big, cool house. All the curtains
needed replacing and some of the rooms needed
repainting. Andy repaired the poultry pens and yards
to keep the foxes out and Anne purchased a new lot of chickens. There were not many of the old brood
left and Anne wanted to have her own fresh eggs and
cockerels for the table. She would never kill a fowl
but didn't mind the plucking and cleaning. She also
took over the care of the kelpie litters. If there were

horses in work or being prepared for campdrafting,
she fed and watered them, too.
When Andy came home from a day in the hills or
from shearing or horsebreaking somewhere in the
district, Anne had usually taken care of most of the
outside chores. This gave Andy more time to handle his
young dogs or to work a horse. Anne loved to watch him
at work with his dogs. There were two paddocks set
aside for this, and fresh sheep were kept on hand in both
for when overworked sheep needed resting.
What with all this work on top of her teaching,
Anne had no trouble sleeping. Sleep had often eluded
her before she and Andy were married because she
had been so excited with the anticipation of marrying
the man of her dreams. It had been even worse before
they were engaged because she would lie awake for
hours wondering whether Andy really wanted her.
Now she slept right through the night and often
didn't even wake when Andy got up. She requested
that he wake her when he rose, even though that was
always before sunrise. Andy could never be found
guilty of being in bed when the sun came up.
Andy soon realised that he needed Anne to be able
to look after High Peaks when he went away shearing.
She would not entertain the idea of getting anyone
in to look after the place. She knew it would be lonely
without Andy, especially at night when the wind
made the she-oaks moan right along the creek and
the mopokes called from high up in the hills, but it
would have to be endured.

One of the really scary things about living on High
Peaks, and, Anne realised, the land generally, was that
you had to keep your eyes open all the time for
snakes. The brutes were plentiful throughout the
district, especially along the creeks. There were browns and blacks and even, way up on the peaks,
carpet snakes. Blacks were bad enough but seemed to
get out of your way quicker than the browns. These,
Andy drummed into her, were deadly mongrels. He
had lost several good dogs to snakes, mostly browns,
and, despite what the National Park rangers and
others said, he reckoned the only good snake was a
dead one. So Andy bought Anne a .410 shotgun and
taught her how to use it. He cut up pieces of an old
hose and got her to shoot at those. But shooting a
snake in a real-life situation was quite another matter.
Anne's first confrontation came one Saturday
when she was on her own and Andy was away up in
the hills. She walked out the back door to bring in
some washing and there, stretched out on the lawn,
was a very large brown snake. Her heart missed a beat.
She had been just about to step off the verandah. She
stopped and slowly backed into the house. Oh, God,
don't let it move, she thought. If it moves and goes
under the house, I will die.
She took down the gun and rammed in a shell.
On tiptoe she walked back out to the verandah. The
snake was still there, stretched out in the sun. Its
tongue was flicking in and out and its head was
moving slowly from side to side. Anne lined the gun's

sight up just behind the head and pulled the trigger.
The explosion was followed by a violent thrashing
from the snake. It coiled itself into knots and still
seemed very much alive. Anne pushed in another shell
and, walking a little closer, fired again. She leant
against the wall of the house for support. Her heart
was racing. She was between crying and laughing. The
shock of seeing a big snake so close still affected her,
and now she had killed it! This, she reflected later
that day, was just another test she had to pass on her
way to becoming a real country woman.
When the snake had stopped thrashing about, she
picked it up on the rake and hung it over the back
fence. Andy saw it there that evening. 'Well done,'
he said as he came into the house. 'Did he give you
any trouble?'
'No trouble, Andy,' Anne answered easily. She
wasn't going to tell him about the glass of brandy
she'd had to drink to calm her nerves. 'Just lined up
on the brute and fired.'
Andy nodded. It was what he had expected of
her.
Before the summer was over Anne had killed two
more browns and a massive goanna which had been
taking eggs from some of the hidden nests the hens
had made outside their yards. The second big brown
had been coiled up in the sun near the water trough
in the horse yard and was still there when Anne crept
back with the shotgun. When Andy returned from
the hills that evening, the snake was hanging over the

fence of the horse yard. After that episode he was sure
that his new wife was going to be okay. But it took
much longer than that for Anne to overcome her fear
of snakes.
When Anne went back to teaching there was no
time to do more than a couple of early jobs - like
milking and feeding the pups and chickens - before
breakfast, and then it was time to drive into Merriwa.
The evenings were better, especially in summer when
it was light until after seven. Later, as the days closed
in and it was dark not much after five-thirty, there
was little time to do much else outside feeding-up
after driving home from Merriwa. In winter, it was
sometimes pitch-dark when she finished her jobs with
the aid of a lantern. When Andy was home, things
were much more manageable.
Although summer could be trying with its heat
and flies and snakes, it was winter that really tested
her. This was when Andy went away shearing at his
Queensland sheds and did not come home for
months at a time.
She hated him being away. She missed him so
much, and she knew how hard he worked to earn
money. He had to 'ring' all the sheds he worked in,
and he worked like the devil to do it. It was hard
coming home to a house with no Andy in it. When
he was away, the kelpies had to be let off for exercise.
They loved the weekends, when Anne would take
them along with her for big gallops. Sometimes they
would go as far as the creek where Andy had first

introduced her and Kate to eel-bashing. The young
dogs would charge into the water then swim around
in tight little circles before emerging, water dripping
everywhere, to roll around in the grass. The older
dogs would stand halfway into the water, lapping
sedately. Ben drank like a dingo, submerging his
snout in the water and dashing up water in quick
grabs. But Ben was a law unto himself. Sometimes,
Anne thought, he was more human than dog.
She would sit on a log and after the dogs had finished
their splashings in the creek they would all sit nearby
and watch her with their agate-coloured eyes. At her
first movement they were up and ready for anything.
She also tried to watch the sheep for flies, and she often
rode out to inspect their small Hereford herd. One
thing Anne never did was ride up Yellow Rock alone:
Andy had expressly forbidden it.
'I would sooner lose every wether on High Peaks
than have you ride up there without me,' he had told
her.
There were several people prepared to help Anne
out while she was on her own and who called in
regularly to see her. Paddy Covers was now a very
old man, but he was still quite sprightly and was
sometimes accompanied by his son, Shaun. Paddy
had been the manager of High Peaks when Andy was
a small boy. He came from a pioneer family and lived
on a small area of country just the other side of the
turn-off to Poitrel, the Whites' property. Paddy had
reared a large family, mostly daughters. Shaun was his

youngest son. Andy owed most of what he knew
about sheepdogs, horses and stock generally to Paddy.
Paddy's youngest daughter, Eileen, had had her eye on Andy for years and nothing would have pleased
old Paddy more than to have her marry his protege
before he passed on. But it hadn't happened, and Eileen
was looking elsewhere. Shaun was the only one of the
boys who had any real aptitude with sheepdogs and he
worked dogs at the local trial. Shaun was always looking
to earn extra money, so Andy employed him when he
needed another hand. He reckoned he owed it to old
Paddy to help any of the Covers.
The Campbells, Young Angus and Jane also came
to see Anne, together at first, but as time progressed
Jane began to come on her own. The two women
had become very friendly since Anne had first invited
Jane up to see her. She had waited until the interior
of the house was repainted and the new curtains were
in place along with some new furniture and rugs she
had purchased from her savings. The once neglected
gardens had been tidied up, and in some cases new
shrubs had replaced ailing specimens. The vegetable
garden drew special praise from Jane.
Old Angus and Sarah had retired to the coast and
Young Angus now 'reigned' in his place. That was
what Anne wrote to Andy: He always carries on as
though he is a lord of the realm.
That is Angus, Andy wrote in his reply. He's a
mite big for his boots and regards himself as the kingpin
grazier of the district. Perhaps he is. He's certainly

got the best cattle, probably the best flock of sheep a) one of the best properties for miles around. He's regarded by some as a silvertail who's had it all handed) to him on a plate. I will say this for Young Angus: snob he may be, but he's always there when the whips are cracking.
Will White was another caller who often turned
up when Anne needed a hand with the animals. Will
had a special kind of relationship with Andy, which
stemmed back to the time when Will had been very
kind to Andy's mother during the war years. But after
his twin brother was killed in New Guinea, Will
became a real recluse. Andy never charged him a cent
for breaking in his young thoroughbreds, and when
Andy did his crutching, Will paid him in sheep.
Will would never visit High Peaks without a box
of chocolates or some beef for Anne. In return, she
would always send him away with a chocolate cake
or a cream sponge because she knew he had such a
sweet tooth.
The best times of all were the weekends when
Andy was home. Sometimes he didn't come home for
long periods at a time, because as soon as one shed
was cut out he would have to go on to the next. These
were a long way from High Peaks and he couldn't
get there and back in a weekend. But when he was
home, if he was not working in the hills, he and Anne
would get up very early and drive off together to a
sheepdog trial or campdraft. More often than not they
would come home with a nice bonus cheque.

Anne did not have much spare time to consider
the changes that had taken place in her life, and when
she did it amazed her how smoothly they seemed to have
happened. She had been reared in a Sydney suburb and
her only contact with animals had been the family dog and a few laying hens. Yet now, at times, she found she
was running an entire sheep property.
Andy had often told her that 'farming is the
beginning of everything', and Anne found herself
agreeing with this view more and more. He said that
life on the land could be damned hard but also
damned satisfying. For him, one of the most
satisfying aspects of it was looking at good livestock
in prime condition. But Anne knew that what really
drove Andy was, primarily, his determination to free
High Peaks of its debt and then, ultimately, to
acquire Wilf's property next door. If added together,
High Peaks and Poitrel would give Andy the area
of country he was seeking, not just for him and
Anne, but for the children they hoped to have.
Moreover, he was principally a real MacLeod: a
descendant of the MacLeods of western Scotland;
and he felt he had a duty, like the other MacLeods
scattered around the world, to show that he could
prosper in a new land. Andy's father had been one
or the few MacLeods who had not bettered himself,
and Andy still retained a lot of bitterness about it.
Nearly all the proceeds Andy earned from wool
and, to a lesser extent, cattle, went to pay off the bank
loan. What Andy earned was paid into a special

account that helped to run High Peaks. Anne's
teaching money went towards buying their clothes,
food and things for the house.
Their first year together was like one long
honeymoon and it seemed to fly as quickly as most
honeymoons do. Anne did not take any precautions
against pregnancy because she did not see any reason
for postponing a family. They would lose her salary
if she fell pregnant, but things would be manageable.
Andy earned quite a lot of money, but he needed
to with the size of his debt. What's more, there were
the iniquitous death duties. A farmer paid taxes all
his life and then, when he died, his family had to pay
additional taxes. It seemed so unfair.
'Andy, what would you say if I told you I was
going to have a baby?' Anne asked him one night as
they sat in the lounge after dinner. He was reading Country Life newspaper and she was attempting to
check school papers.
He put down the paper and looked at her. 'Well,
Anne, I would say that you probably are, you being
a straight-up-and-down young woman.'
'Well, I am. Are you pleased?'
He got up and came across to her. 'Stand up,' he
said.
She stood up and locked her gaze with his. Slowly,
he bent down and kissed her, with all the passion of
his first kiss on top of Yellow Rock.
'I'm awful pleased, Anne. Have you been to see
the doctor yet?'

'No, but I don't think there's any doubt.'
Andy sat down on a chair and put Anne on his
knees.
'What did I ever do to deserve you?' she asked and
kissed him on the cheek.
'Other way round, Anne. Couldn't believe my eyes
the first time I saw you. There, I thought, is the girl
for me. I was right, too. I'm the lucky fellow.'
'I disagree, but we won't argue about it. And now
I'm going to have a baby. Can we manage? I mean,
you might not be able to go away as much, at least
until I've had the baby.'
'And not for a while after, either. I'll try and do a
bit more locally and maybe up the horse and dog
sales. We'll manage, and you're not to worry your
head about money. We aren't broke.'
The fact that Anne was going to have a baby was
the best bit of news Andy had heard for a long time.
Now there was going to be a child on High Peaks.
Having children on the place would make everything
worthwhile. He wished his mother were alive to see
it. She and Anne would have got on so well. Boy or
girl, it didn't matter, although if he were given the
choice, he would like a son first. A son and then a
daughter.Chapter Five





According to Jane Campbell, Anne had had a good pregnancy. Jane had been very sick when she was carrying Stuart. If it hadn't been for her strong desire
to have a daughter, she might never have tried to become pregnant again. As fate had it, Jane fell pregnant
just a couple of months after Anne.
Andy had not gone away shearing that year, not ;
to the big Queensland sheds. He had stayed close
to home and was there with Anne every night.)
Towards the end of the pregnancy, Anne had trouble
convincing him to go away for even a day at a time. ;
She assured him that if the pains started she would
ring Angus or Jane who would come for her at any notice.
At this time, Andy had an outstanding blue and tan male dog called Ring which he reckoned might
be the best trial dog he had owned. There was a big trial at Forbes, and Andy thought Ring was plenty

good enough to at least take out the Maiden award
if not win the double of the Maiden and the Open.
If he left very early in the morning, he could work the Maiden and be home the same night. Anne
pressed him to go. The baby was not due for another
fortnight and Shaun Covers had assured them that he
would feed up that day.
Andy was in two minds because although he
wanted to win the trial for the kudos it would bring
him and his dogs - and the money would come in
handy - he was very reluctant to leave home with the
baby so close. He was also concerned about the location
of a low-pressure system off the New South
Wales coast. He listened to the weather forecasts and
reckoned there might be a fair bit of rain due.
It had actually started to rain when he left - not
heavily, but the sky was leaden and he thought it
would probably set in. The rain followed him to
Forbes, and when he arrived he found that there were
so many dogs entered in the big Maiden event he
would not be working until the next morning. He
almost decided to scratch Ring then and there and
drive back home. Instead he went down the town and
rang Anne with the news that if he wanted to work
Ring he would have to stay the night, as they would
be starting at seven-thirty the next morning in order
to get all the dogs through. Anne assured Andrew that
she would be fine and that she would get Shaun to
stay the night.
He rang again that evening and Anne told him

that she was quite well, but a bit worried about the
rain. It had been raining quite heavily all day and it
was forecast to continue doing so. Shaun would stay
and milk the cow and do the other morning jobs
before going home.
Andy was camping at the showground and the rain
was coming down fairly heavily. He again almost
decided to give the trials away and drive home through
the night. The creek at High Peaks was a horror in
big rain. Several times it had covered the bridge and
on two occasions they had been cut off for a couple
of days. If that should happen this time and the baby
decided it was time to be born, there could be real
trouble. He finally decided that seeing he had stayed
the day he might as well see the trial through.
It was a wet, gloomy showground when the handlers
who had camped there got up next morning.
Andy had not come prepared to camp, except that he
always carried his swag with him. He reckoned he'd
work Ring and then have breakfast down the town
before heading off. The other handlers wouldn't hear
of that, and he was soon set up with steak and eggs
and a big pint of tea. He loved the friendliness of
sheepdog workers. It made mailing a very satisfying
sport. They really are a great bunch of fellows, he
thought.
Ring was the second dog to work that morning
and fourth last of the Maiden dogs. He took the dog
for a run in the rain, thankful that he had brought
his wet-weather gear. Ring was a real show-off dog.

It was as if he knew he was a king-pin trial dog. It
was a sin, having made the trip to Forbes, not to allow
such a dog to display his talents. Ring didn't give a
fig for the rain. Once he sighted sheep he was majestic.
A man would be a heel not to let him work. Yet
deep down he realised he should get the hell out of
Forbes. There would always be another trial but there
was only one Anne.
The sheep were a bit doughy and disinclined to
run in the rain. This didn't give Ring the best chance
to show off his footwork and holding ability. It was
really a very easy trial for him after the touchy hill
country wethers he had worked on High Peaks. He
still managed to come out with a score of 96, which
was seven points higher than the other leading dog.
'A great run, Andy. You've got a dog there you
could take to Canberra,' Hugh Shorter said as Andy
and Ring came off the ground. Hugh worked kelpie
and border collie-cross dogs and owned a property
east of Goulburn.
'Don't know that I will ever get to Canberra,
Hugh. I've got a lot of commitments at home.'
'That's a real shame. You're the best kelpie handler
around. You should give it a go.'
'Right now I've got to head for home. Our first
baby is getting close and we've got a bugger of a
bridge to cross. I sure don't like the look of this rain.'
'Congratulations, mate. I hope it all works out.
Pity you have to leave, though. Ring would have been
a good chance to take the double.'

'I'll be happy to win the Maiden this time,' Andy
said.
Of the last three dogs, one was disqualified for
crossing and the other two didn't score very well, so
Ring came out the winner.
Delighted as he was with his success, Andy
couldn't get away quickly enough. The rain was
belting down and he was as worried as he could be
about it. He had been a fool to leave Anne even for
a minute.
He called her before he left Forbes and heard that
it was absolutely pouring at High Peaks. The creek
seemed to be up and it was roaring worse than she
had ever heard it.
Andy didn't like the sound of that. 'Listen to me,
Anne. You get out of there! Get Shaun to drive you
into town and take a room at the Federal. Stay there
and I'll see you tonight.'
'Jane rang and suggested I go over to Inverlochy,'
Anne replied.
Andy did a quick mental check of the creeks
between Inverlochy and Merriwa. 'No, it's too risky.
The only place for you is in town. If that creek comes
up and you need to get to the hospital in town, you
won't get in from Inverlochy. Is Shaun still there?'
'He's down looking at the creek now,' she said.
'Tell him I said he's to take you to town. Pack up
now. Tell him to come back when he can and feed
up. If not tonight, tomorrow. I might get stuck in
town for a day or so. This could be flood rain.'

'All right, Andy. Now tell me, how did you go at
the trials?'
'Ring won the Maiden, but I'll tell you all about
that later. I have to leave now.'
Anne hung up the phone and went out on to the
front verandah. It didn't take long for the first big
gust to hit her. She shivered and looked first at the
road that led out the front gate and down to the
creek, and then she turned her eyes towards Yellow
Rock. She could see the road as far as the dip to the
creek but beyond that everything was hidden by mist
and rain. Yellow Rock was completely obscured,
hidden by an impenetrable curtain of mist. There was
so little visibility it looked as if there were no mountains
at all.
Presently Shaun appeared through the rain.
Although he had driven down to the creek, he now
returned on foot.
'Where's your ute, Shaun?' Anne asked as he came
up the front path.
'Down near the creek. I'm afraid it's stuck down
there. I just couldn't get it to start.'
'Oh, dear. I really needed you to get me to town.
I was going to stay at the Federal.'
'We could always take the truck, except it might
be a bit rough for you,' he said.
'How is the creek?' she asked.
'The water is just running over the bridge, but I
reckon it's rising. This is the heaviest rain I've seen
here.'

'Let's go and get the truck then, quickly.'
But the battery of the truck was dead flat. 'Bugger
it,' Shaun said vehemently. 'Missus, we've got a
problem. I reckon you had better ring Angus and see
if he can come and get you.'
'Wait a tick and I'll see what he says,' she said,
heading towards the house. She reappeared a few
minutes later and Shaun could tell from the frown
on her face that it was bad news. 'I can't make it out.
The phone is dead. It was quite all right when Andy
rang a while ago.'
'The wind has got a lot stronger since then. It's
either twisted the wires or else they've come down
completely,' Shaun suggested.
He looked up at the heavily pregnant woman, the
wife of the man he most admired and respected in all
the district. 'Not to worry, Mrs Mac. I'll saddle a
horse and scoot down to Inverlochy,' he said with a
quick smile to try and ease her obvious concern.
'Would you, Shaun? It will be a nasty ride in this
rain,' she pointed out.
'I've got good rainskins.'
'What will you do after that?' she asked.
'It might be best if I come back here while you're
gone,' he said. 'If this rain keeps up, Andy might not
get back here for a couple of days. There's dogs and
horses to feed and Moss has a big litter of valuable
pups on her.'
'Thank you, Shaun. We really do appreciate this.
There's plenty of food for you and the dogs. You

know where it all is, just help yourself.'
'Righto, Mrs Mac. Well, I'll saddle up and be on
my way. We'll be back inside an hour, so you just sit
tight.'
He put a saddle on one of Andy's mares and cantered
her down to the creek. There was now more
than a foot of water over the bridge. The creek was
definitely rising - and fast. Shaun rode the mare into
the water and was immediately thankful for the
quality of Andy's horse. The water was rushing across
the bridge at frightening speed, and nobody could
have crossed away from the bridge. The mare's legs
did not create too much resistance in the water so he
simply had to keep her in the middle of the bridge
to make his way across. When he reached the far side
he turned and looked back at the crossing. Soon no
car would be able to make it over. Angus would need
to bring his truck quickly. Shaun turned and put the
mare to a fast canter, with the rain beating endlessly
into his face.

Angus Campbell had been trying to raise Anne
MacLeod by telephone but her phone line was dead.
He walked out on to the front verandah and looked
up the road towards High Peaks. All he could see now
was a grey wall of rain. As he watched and worried
about what he should do, a single horseman appeared
out of the mist and deluge.
Seeing Angus on his front verandah, Shaun rode
up the drive and dismounted at the front steps.

'G'day, Mr Campbell. Jeez, what a bugger of a
day. Talk about rain. Never seen anything like it.'
'G'day, Shaun. What are you doing here? Is there
trouble up at High Peaks?'
'I reckon. My ute's on the blink and the truck has
a flat battery. The creek is running like hell, must be
getting close to two feet over the bridge by now.
I need to get Mrs Mac to town. Andy reckons it isn't
even safe to bring her here, in her condition.'
Angus Campbell knew what was required of him.
As he turned away, Shaun added a final caution.
'You'll never cross the bridge in a car.'
Angus turned back to him. 'It's that bad?'
Shaun nodded. 'I reckon you could do it okay in
your truck, but come maybe a couple more hours and
even that wouldn't make it.'
Angus nodded his acknowledgement. 'I'll get the
truck. We can look after your horse here and you
come back with me. That all right?'
'Sounds like we've got ourselves a plan.'

Anne had all her things packed and ready to go. She
had actually been packed for days and had only to
add a toothbrush and extra clothes for her stay at the
Federal. She filled the combustion stove and then
went back to the front verandah to wait for Angus.
It was then that she heard the pup crying. Perhaps
Mossy had heard the horse leaving and had climbed
out of her kennel to investigate. Sometimes a pup
attached to a teat could get dropped outside the

kennel and left there. A small pup would die of exposure
in this weather. She could not possibly leave it.
She donned her coat, stowing a towel beneath it,
and put on her galoshes and wide-brimmed hat. This
was not easy in her condition. The rain hit her in
great welts as she plodded towards the dog yard. The
dogs were all in their logs and kennels except for
Moss, who was standing over one of her pups. The
rain was streaming off her sides down onto the shivering,
crying pup.
Anne pulled the towel from beneath her coat and
rubbed the pup as dry as she was able. It was a little
black and tan bitch, between two and three weeks of
age. She put it back with the other pups and then
tried to rub Moss dry. It was too hard for her to bend
over and she dropped down on her knees. 'You'll
make your pups as wet as you are,' she said as she
rubbed her. Moss didn't wait long and jumped back
into her kennel. There was a board across the front
and it was high enough to keep the small pups
inside.
Anne made it to her feet and turned to go back
to the house. The ground was very slippery and she
felt momentarily light-headed. Her feet slid away and
then she was falling, falling. She put out her right
arm to try and cushion the fall and felt pain shoot
up into her shoulder. Her whole body shook as she
fell. Her stomach heaved, and as she lay with the rain
beating down at her, a sudden pain gripped her. 'Oh,
God. Not now. Not here,' she groaned. She realised

she had to get up and somehow make it to the house.
She pushed herself to her feet and found that she had
a job to stand upright. Something was wrong inside
her. 'Can't stay here,' she muttered to herself through
clenched teeth.
Slowly and painfully Anne pushed herself back to
the front verandah. It was all she could do to get up
the stairs and collapse into a big cane chair.
It was there that Angus and Shaun found her.
Between them they managed to get her into the truck.
The creek was now a frightening prospect and even
the big truck felt the force of the water as it inched
across the bridge. Anne was too far gone in her pain
to fully comprehend the scene around her and Angus
did not mention just how concerned he really was.
Instead he concentrated on getting her across safely.
Anne's head was on his shoulder and she was trying
hard not to cry out. The pains were coming and going
with a severity she had not expected.
The truck inched up the far bank and Angus
lowered the window and waved goodbye to Shaun on
the opposite bank. Rain and wind beat at the windscreen
and he could feel the truck tremble. Visibility
was no more than about thirty yards. He looked
down at Anne and she gave him a weak smile.
'I took a fall, Angus, and now I think the baby is
coming. Something happened when I fell, and it hurts
a lot.' She winced as a spasm of pain hit her. Angus
tried to console her by putting his arm around her
shoulders.

'Hang on there, old girl. We'll soon have you in
hospital. I'll change you over to the car when we get
to Inverlochy, which will be a lot more comfortable
for you. You'll soon be in good shape.'
Anne wanted to believe him but she had her
doubts. 'Andy won't know what's happened to me,'
she said. 'He's on his way home from Forbes.'
'Don't you worry about that. We'll leave a message
for him at the Federal. He'll find you,' Angus said.
There was water spreading across the road below
Inverlochy. The dip below the house was filled with
water. It formed a cowal like a mini-billabong in
flush times. Angus wondered how much more water
was across the road on the way to town. If this
rain kept up, nobody would be able to get to town.
He debated whether to take Jane in with them. She
was a couple of months behind Anne in her pregnancy,
but Angus didn't want to risk her having a
similar sort of fall. What's more, there was no time
for her to pack.
He backed the big truck alongside the garage and
looked down at Anne. 'Can you make it inside or
would you prefer to wait here while I run and talk to
Jane?' he asked anxiously.
She saw the concern on his face, even through her
pain. 'I think I'll stay here, thank you, Angus. You
won't be long, will you?'
'No, I'll just tell Jane to call the ambulance and
then we'll get you into the car,' he said, and raced off
towards the homestead.

As he came into the house without waiting to
remove his dripping oilskins, Jane asked, 'Where have
you been, Angus? What's happened?'
'Anne is in the truck,' he replied. 'She's had a fall
and the baby is on the way. Will you ring the ambulance
and get them to meet us on the road?'
'Oh, Angus,' she said with alarm in her eyes. 'Will
you get Anne to the hospital in time?'
'How should I know? I'm not a doctor. I'm more
worried about getting her there at all. You should
have seen the creek. And our cowal is overflowing.
I'm inclined to think you should come with us.
Andy's out of town and I think Anne could use some
support. No - on second thoughts, it could be a
tough trip. I want you to stay here. Don't want you
going into labour, too. I'll get back somehow.'

Andy was in trouble. The faithful Chev utility that
had transported him to sheds all over Queensland had
finally rolled to a stop in Bathurst. The nearest garage
had towed it under cover and he had been assured
that they could fit a new carbie.
'It's like this, mate,' the garage foreman said.
'There's this cocky who's a bit of a nut on Chevs.
He's got a bloody great stack of Chev spare parts.
I reckon he'd probably have fifty carbies out there.'
'Has he got one to fit my ute?' Andy asked, trying
to keep his temper in check.
'Haven't a clue. He's out looking at his stock.
Shifting them, his missus said.'

'I don't want to pressure you, but my wife is due
to have a baby any tick of the clock and I can't get
through to her by phone. She could be in big trouble.'
'That's tough, mate. Look, I'll send the young fella
out straightaway. If Joe's got a carbie, we can fit it
real quick. No sweat. You go and have a feed so
you're ready to hit the track. Will your dog be right
in the back?' Ring was sitting in the mesh crate with
canvas roof and sides which Andy used for carrying
his dogs around in.
'He'll be okay.'
Andy tried to call High Peaks again, but the phone
was still dead. The Inverlochy phone sounded okay
and he was relieved when Jane answered. But not for
long. When she gave him the news about Anne, he
was left temporarily speechless.
'Had a fall? And the baby's on the way? Hell.
Look, I'll ring the ambulance.'
The ambulance station answered his call at the
third ring. He knew all the staff there and recognised
Tom Stratton's voice.
'It's Andy MacLeod here, Tom. I'm stuck in Bathurst
with car trouble. Do you know what's happened
with my wife?'
'Sure, Andy. We've already picked Mrs MacLeod
up. She's in the hospital at the moment. She made it
in time.'
'Thank heavens. I'll ring the hospital now.'
The hospital receptionist was not very informative.
'Mrs MacLeod was operated on not long after she was

brought in,' she said. Andy had a job hearing her
through the rain beating on the iron roof.
'Is she all right?'
'I believe so, but you would have to talk to Dr
Ramsay yourself.'
'Look, I'm stuck in Bathurst and I can't get there
yet. I'm Mrs MacLeod's husband. Surely I have a
right to know what's going on.'
'Mrs MacLeod is in a satisfactory condition and
the baby is doing fine,' the woman said almost
grudgingly.
'God Almighty, you could have told me that five
minutes ago!' Andy exploded. 'If it would not be too
much trouble, would you mind telling my wife that
I have had a breakdown in Bathurst and I hope to be
back some time late this afternoon.'
'Very well, I will pass that message on.'
The line went dead and Andy put the phone
down with his heart still beating wildly. Anne had
had the baby and they were all right. A huge wave
of relief swept over him. It was only then that he
realised he had not enquired whether he had a son
or a daughter. He swore under his breath and redialled
the hospital.
'This is Andrew MacLeod again. Did my wife have
a boy or a girl?'
'A boy, Mr MacLeod,' the receptionist said.
'A boy. Thank you. Thank you very much,' he
said in something of a daze. Anne had had a boy.
A boy. That was terrific. He walked down the street

to the first cafe he came to. It was still raining cats
and dogs. What did that matter? He had a son.

Andy MacLeod was a very relieved man when he
finally parked his ute outside Merriwa Hospital. All
he had been able to think about on the long drive
over was Anne and the baby. The Chev hummed
along through the rain and crossed every water-filled
dip on the road back to Merriwa. He could have been
stopped several times but he put the old canvas screen
over the front and ploughed on through.
Anne was asleep when he entered her room. He
looked down at her as she lay there, the woman who
had transformed his life. He asked himself for the
hundredth time why on earth Anne had chosen him.
She looked tired and there were dark smudges under
her eyes that he'd never seen before. For all that, he
thought she'd never looked so beautiful. He stood
gazing at her for some time before sitting down beside
her bed. He lost track of how long he sat watching
her before she eventually opened her eyes. They lit
up when she saw him and she opened her arms out
wide. He kissed her and buried his face in her hair.
'I'm sorry, Anne. I was a fool to go to Forbes.
A damned fool. They say you've been operated on.
Are you all right? What about the baby?'
Anne had never seen her husband so concerned.
What would he think when she gave him the news?
'Oh, Andy, I am afraid there is both good and bad
news. The good news is that we have a ten-pound

son, and he is just beautiful. You'll love him.'
'A son. That's terrific, Anne. Can I see him?
Where is he? Ten pounds. Isn't that rather heavy?'
'Heavy enough, dear, and you'll see for yourself in
just a minute. But I'm afraid the bad news is that
there aren't going to be any more babies. Something
went wrong, and I'm sorry to say that the factory has
been closed down.'
Andy bent and kissed her again. 'We couldn't
want for any more than the two of us together and a
child of our own. The main thing is that you're all
right and so is the baby. Nothing else matters.'
'Oh, Andy.' She knew he must have been as disappointed
as she was. They had both been so keen to
have more children. She was determined not to cry
in front of him, but his calm acceptance of her news
broke down her resolution. He really was a man and
a half.
'Please don't cry,' he said, taking her hands in his.
'It doesn't matter that we can't have more children.
I've got you and I've got a son, so I'm a long way
ahead of where I was a couple of years ago. But, tell
me, how did you fall?'
'I slipped on the verandah, dear - top-heavy,' she
told him, not wanting to let on what she'd really
done. 'I had to have a Caesarean.'
'Oh, my poor Anne. I'm so sorry I was stuck in
Bathurst.'
A young nurse came into the room and Anne
whispered in her ear. She nodded and left the room,

returning soon after carrying a bundle swathed in a
blue and white blanket. A pudgy red face and some
dark hair was all that could be discerned through the
wrappings. The nurse handed the bundle to Anne and
she placed her baby beside her. 'Say hello to your son,
Andy.'
Andy gazed with wonderment at the small figure
cradled against his wife's body. He didn't know what
to say. Never before had he had anything to do with
a day-old baby.
'You can nurse him, Daddy,' Anne said with her
eyes shining.
Andy reached down and picked up the next
generation MacLeod. 'Ten pounds, eh? Reckon he
might end up a big fella,' Andy said proudly.
'I reckon he might, if he's anything like his father.'
'And if he's got his mother's looks, the girls will
drive him mad,' Andy said.
And the minutes passed into hours as together
Anne and Andy sat staring in delight at the miracle
in their arms.

The rain began to ease during the night and Andy
decided to head out to High Peaks. First he had to
call in at Inverlochy to thank Angus for everything
he had done. Andy always felt uncomfortable about
being beholden to Angus, but he never took anything
for nothing. If a fellow did him a good turn, he
always tried to reciprocate. It was hard to do that with
Angus because he was so well-off financially. And

despite the fact that he knew Angus respected him
for his ability with dogs and horses, he did not accept
Andy socially. Likewise, Andy didn't have much time
for some of Angus's friends, who were out and out
snobs. Angus fitted in with them well enough, but he
did believe himself to be public-minded, a district
benefactor. The thing was that whenever Angus did
anything to help the community, it was always frontpage
news in the local paper. There were others who
did good things but never got any publicity, and
never looked for it.
Then there were the little incidents that had built
up between Angus and Andrew over the years. Once,
Andy had called in to collect a cheque from Angus,
who had come out of his office with Rob Cartwright
beside him. Rob had a glass of whisky in his hand
but Andrew had not been asked into the office to join
them. A similar thing had happened at the local show,
on more than one occasion. Angus would be drinking
with some of his cronies and would never ask Andrew
over with them.
So it was with a little reservation that Andy
approached Inverlochy. Angus came out on to the
front verandah when he heard Andy's utility pull up
on the drive. 'G'day, Andy. Going to try the bridge?'
'Have a look anyway, Angus. It usually falls pretty
fast. What a season we should have after this rain.
You'll have fat cattle for miles.'
Angus allowed a faint smile to cross his rather
bleak countenance. 'Well, you need a few good

seasons to make up for the ordinary ones. How is
Anne?'
'That's why I've dropped over. I want to thank
you for what you did.'
'Well, it's a bad show if neighbours can't help each
other out in times like that. You'll help me next time,
not that you haven't done so in the past,' he added.
'I'm obliged, anyway, Angus. You need any help,
you just ask me.'
Angus nodded. He knew the calibre of Andy
MacLeod. 'How did the trial go?'
'It wasn't worth the trip, but Ring did win the
Maiden. Hugh reckons I should take him to Canberra,
but it's damned hard for me to get away.
There'll be other trials, and other dogs.'
Angus was a little resentful about the easy way
Andy tossed off the news that he had won the
Maiden. Winning trials all the time seemed to come
so easily to Andy. The closest Angus had ever come
to winning a trial was obtaining a third place. He
wondered whether he should try for another imported
dog. Perhaps a broken-in Wilson dog, if he could still
get one out of him.
'You didn't tell me how Anne is doing,' Angus
said.
'She's doing quite well, thanks again to you,
Angus,' Andy said as he walked back to his utility.
'And I hope things work out well for you and Jane,
too.'



Things did work out for the Campbells.
Two months later, Jane gave birth to a baby
daughter, Catriona. If Anne felt any jealousy at seeing
Jane with a daughter, she didn't let on to anyone. She
was totally immersed in caring for her baby son, who
had been given the name of David, or Davie for short.
When Andy went to collect Anne and David from
the hospital to bring them home, his heart beat a
shade faster than usual. And when he handed the
baby up to Anne on their front verandah, he felt like
a king coming home to his kingdom. The kingdom
was High Peaks and David MacLeod was its prince.
Chapter Six





David MacLeod was indeed a great joy to his
parents. If Andy MacLeod was the provider, manager
and general factotum of High Peaks and Anne was
the calm, capable homemaker - and, when required,
stockperson - David was the heart and soul of the
property. There was never a boy who loved his home
more than David loved High Peaks. He had ridden
over every inch of it before he was five years of age,
and could crack his first whip some time before that.
Anne realised quite early on that her son was
somehow different from other boys. He never sought
the company of others and was perfectly content to
roam the hills on his own, with a kelpie or two
running beside his pony. For another thing, David
was never going to be dux of the school as she had
been before going to teachers' college. The genes that
David had inherited from his father seemed to have
swamped her own. Although he was as smart as paint,

David had no interest in anything but the bush and
his animals. In the beginning it was all animals, but
as he grew towards his teens, David's major passions
became kelpies and stock horses. And his dogs loved
him in return. There was a rapport between them that
amazed many people. This was no surprise, since
Andy was by far the best local dog man.
Anne was smart enough to be grateful that she had
a fine boy. If she could not make her son a great
student, she could at least make him a decent human
being.
There were times, such as horse sports days, when
David's activities caused her great anxiety. From a
very early age David had exhibited a fanatical desire
to ride horses with his father. When he was only two
years old he had been given a rather rare red roan
pony by a neighbour, Pat Metcalfe, in return for a
week of Andy's shearing. For a while Andy led this
pony from his own mount, until, at his small son's
urging, he dispensed with the lead and together they
rode the highest peaks of the land. But the lead was
always clipped on again before they came in sight of
the homestead. Andy knew full well what Anne would
say about her son being let loose in wallaby country.
It took a fair rider to handle a horse in the high
country. To some extent you had to rely on your
horse, but you couldn't go to sleep on the job. There
were steep upthrusts of rock with deep gullies and
shifty stones. Yet David's pony had the agility of a
goat and never once came to grief. Moreover, his

small rider could cling to him like a monkey as he
rode the most dangerous places on High Peaks on his
own.
Anne never ceased to worry about her son. When
he was absent in the hills she would make many trips
to the back gate to watch for the first sight of him
emerging from the top country. She had a pair of
field glasses, which hung on a hook at the back step.
Anxious eyes scanned the high slopes until the pony
came into view. Yet she never let on to David about
her concerns. She had to be careful not to coddle her
son. This would never do for Big Andy's boy.
The red roan pony was replaced by a Welsh pony
gelding called Chips when David was six years old.
He was a grey with lovely manners but with a pony's
tricks. David soon had him under his spell. The pony
used to follow its small owner up the path to the
homestead where he would wait patiently until given
bread or sugar. Once, David even rode Chips into
the house - but he never made that mistake again.
The most important development in David's
animal training happened when Tim Sparkes, the old
horsebreaker mate of his father's, came to the district.
Andy had reduced his own horsebreaking and recommended
Tim take over these clients. When work
was over for the day, Tim would head up to High
Peaks for a drink and a yarn with Andy. He sometimes
even stayed for a day or two between jobs. Tim
was a horseman through and through, and could not
help but be impressed with young David. He had

never seen a child of his age so proficient with dogs
and horses. In no time at all he had David performing
even more sophisticated tricks with his pony. And
from that time on Tim kept his eye open for David's
next horse - a bigger horse.
It was Tim, too, who gave David his first lessons
in self-defence. At school, David had gone for a bigger
boy who had kicked a dog seeking titbits from
sympathetic children - only some had not been so
sympathetic. Tim noticed David's black eye and,
when told that David had lost the fight, he set about
training him in self-defence. Tim was no slouch. He
had spent a season with Jimmy Sharman's troupe and
knew his way round a boxing ring all right. It was
grounding that would stand David in good stead.

The MacLeod name was famous throughout Australia,
but this fame mostly concerned another branch
of the family. There had been a famous partnership
of kelpie breeders by the name of King and McLeod.
The King brothers had been two of the original
breeders of the kelpie. Indeed, King's Kelpie was universally
regarded as the bitch from which the breed
took its name. They later merged with McLeod to
breed some of the greatest sheepdogs ever seen in
Australia. The legendary Coil, who won the Sydney
trials in 1898 with two faultless scores of 100 in each
round, was passed from John Quinn's ownership to
King and McLeod. The name 'King and McLeod'
was held in such high repute that the owners kept on

selling dogs for many years after their best days had
passed.
Andrew MacLeod was not an immediate member
of that McLeod family, though he was descended
from the same clan in western Scotland, but his
success with kelpies more or less ensured him of association
with the McLeod of King and McLeod.
Andrew began to trial dogs with the progeny of the
first two kelpies presented to him by his mother's old
manager, Paddy Covers. The proceeds of some of
these trials, as with the campdraft events, helped Andy
to pay off some of his debts. He was also able to sell
quite a few pups and started dogs for good prices.
When Andrew took over High Peaks, he was so
preoccupied with getting the property in order and
reducing its debt burden that he was seldom able to
travel very far to compete in the bigger sheepdog trials
and campdrafts. His attendance at trials was virtually
limited to the local ones, with a very occasional foray
farther afield. Deep down, however, he had one great
ambition, and that was to win the National Trials
with one of his kelpies. These trials had only ever
once been won by a kelpie, but that dog had won it
five times.
Although Andy no longer journeyed away to trial
dogs, he was not forgotten among breeding circles.
Dog men, mostly kelpie enthusiasts, came from all
over the country to meet and talk with him. Some
stayed the night and talked dogs until the small hours,
while others worked their dogs for Andy to pass

judgement on. All of this was pure heaven to young
David. The wisdom that flowed from Andy and his
visitors penetrated David's young brain and was
stored there for future reference. He carried this
knowledge like an extra sense, with information stacking up, always available when he required it.
David soon learned the importance of 'eye' in a ;
dog and the power this exerted over sheep. Some dogs
had too much eye. They were called 'hard-eyed' or
'sticky-eyed'. Their 'eye' tied them up so much that
they were either ineffective in moving sheep or they
took too much time to do it. Dogs who had no eye
were fairly useless in some situations, like when it
came to mustering stragglers in the high country. Yet
dogs with the right amount of eye could handle wild,
fast-breaking sheep.
David also learned the value of natural casting
dogs. His father always rammed home the importance
of cast; he would not breed from a dog who was not
a naturally good caster. David learned of the folly of
teaching a dog to cast 'blind' when there were no
sheep for it to locate. Andy never cast a dog blind
unless he knew there were sheep over the hill.
David understood why his father preferred kelpies
to border collies where many handlers did not. It was,
his father averred, because of the way a top kelpie
worked its sheep. The legendary old kelpies like Coil,
Wallace, Biddy Blue and Blue King had wonderful
anticipation and could judge when sheep were going
to move. They were always ready in position before

the sheep were. These dogs had the power to drive
and hold, often only needing to move a few inches
to cover and move sheep, so they didn't swing sheep
all over the place. It was this attribute that Andy
prized so highly in the best kelpies, and it was a characteristic
of the best of the MacLeod dogs.
Andy did not worry too greatly about the colour
of his dogs; this was secondary to the way they
worked. King was a blue and tan, Ben was a solid
blue, Bess and Lottie were blue and tan, Queen was
jet black with just a tiny spot of white on her chest,
and Dawn was a red and tan, or two-tone. Young
David soon learned that although there had been
some very great blue dogs like Coil and Wallace, some
blues were poor-coated dogs and as they got older
they were liable to suffer from kidney trouble. This
was because they had little or no hair over the loins.
Such dogs also had problems in the heat, because with
so little coat, their skins heated up too much.
Occasionally, there was a pale, light-coloured or
creamy pup. These dogs resembled dingoes and many
bushmen claimed there was in fact dingo blood in the
kelpie. Andy told David that the dingo story was just
nonsense: people might have used the dingo, but it
had never helped 'make' the kelpie. Angus Campbell
had told him there were cream or lemon-coloured
collies in Scotland and that they were the source of
the light-coloured kelpies, not the dingo. David
learned, most importantly, that the light-coloured
dogs 'drew' sheep to them. This could be a good or

a bad thing, depending on the sheep being worked.
If sheep were a bit wild and 'stirry', the light-coloured
dogs sometimes calmed them down, but if sheep were
bold and aggressive, they would often take on a light
coloured dog more than they would a darker one.
All of these things were absorbed by David so that
before he went to high school he knew as much about
sheepdogs and the handling of them as most sheepdog
handlers three times his age.
Then there was the rearing of the pups. This was
a time of pure joy for young David. He would sit on
the wood heap with his father while the latest litter
of pups played with their mother. Together they
would look for the boldest pup, the shyest pup
(shyness not being a positive trait) and the smartest
pup, but most importantly, the pup they might keep
to carry on the line.
Queen was David's favourite bitch. She was big
and black and shiny and always produced top pups.
They were the best coloured of the MacLeod dogs
and were marginally better natured. David was nine
years old when his father presented him with his first
very own kelpie. They had picked him out of Queen's
litter as the one who stood right out from his mates.
He was a big black and tan who David came to call
Glen. He now owned two ponies and a dog - well,
a pup - and life was wonderful.
Glen was bred down from many of the great
kelpies past. He was bred to cast and to hold wild
sheep, and that is just what he did. Before Glen was

twelve months of age, David could rely on him to
muster the highest parts of the property and to
retrieve all but the most cunning sheep. Glen was not
yet in King's class, and might never be, but he was
still a class dog and a very good one for his age. David
was given plenty of advice by all and sundry about
the best way to handle his first dog, but when he won
the Novice event at the local sheepdog trial - he was
the youngest person by several years ever to achieve
such a win - there was general agreement that young
David was a chip off the old block. After all, who
had ever heard of a ten-year-old boy winning a sheepdog
trial?
In this event David worked against Angus Campbell,
who entered two dogs and didn't make the
final with either. Andy won the Open Trial, so
father and son had joint reason to be happy. Everyone
who knew Angus Campbell reckoned he would
slip away before the presentation of prizes, but
Angus was not too proud to come across and shake
hands with Andy and David. Yet the defeat rankled.
It was surely something to be beaten by Andy
MacLeod, who could win anywhere, but to be
beaten by his young son was pretty shattering for
a fellow like Angus.
David took the win in his stride and listened
carefully while his father pointed out where he had
lost points. (Glen had scored 89 points from the
possible 100.)
'If you work at a big trial, the gun handlers will

beat you if you lose that many points. You must keep
your dog on a tighter course and not let him veer
sheep to the left. And Glen still comes on to them a
bit quick. Keep him back more,' Andy said.
David nodded. He knew Glen wasn't perfect, but
he would get him right. And he did. Glen became so
good that Andy said he was ready to win an Open
Trial. He also thought they might try a litter or two
by him. The MacLeod sires were getting on in years
because Andy had had to sell the good young ones to
help with their debt. They now had to look to
keeping some top-class younger dogs. Glen was especially
attractive as a potential sire because he carried
two strains of the Blue King blood that was now virtually
unattainable anywhere else. So Glen was mated
with the red and tan bitch, Dawn.
Then tragedy struck. Three weeks later a big
brown snake bit Glen as he was working sheep
between two massive rocks in the high country. David
knew there was little chance of saving him; he'd seen
others die the same way. Tears coursed down his face
as he savagely smashed his whip across the snake. It
was a long ride back to the homestead and Glen was
already in a bad way by the time he got there. Andy
and David took him in to the vet but there was no
anti-venom at that time and Glen died a couple of
hours later.
David was completely shattered. Glen had been
his very first dog, his first trial winner, and he had
been a beauty. Anne had always been able to nurse

her son through bad periods, but this time David was
inconsolable. He lay on his bed with his face pressed
into the pillow and refused to come out for meals.
The following day David saddled his pony and
rode to the top of Yellow Rock. Well, almost to the
top of Yellow Rock. It was impossible to ride to the
very top; the last section had to be climbed by foot.
This was the highest point of the range, next to
Mount Oxley, and from its vantage point he could
look down over a huge stretch of country. He could
see both Half Moon and Jimmy's Creeks stretching
like silvery snakes towards Merriwa, while high above
him a brown falcon soared in majestic flight.
David could understand why his father had
worked so hard to retain High Peaks. It was not really
for the money, for the promise that once clear of
debt the property would provide a good living. There
was no great fortune to be made from the wool
industry - which had slumped in 1970 and barely
recovered - nor from the small herd of cattle they ran
on the bottom country. What made High Peaks so
special was that it was theirs and theirs alone. They
knew every rock and tree on the property. David was
sure he could never be happy away from there. Where
else could a sheepdog so convincingly demonstrate
its mastery over sheep as on the range country? And
where else was there country so exhilarating to ride
over?
And so David sat and mourned the loss of Glen,
trying to adjust to the fact that he was gone. Finally,

hunger drove him down off Yellow Rock. David was
a boy with a very good appetite, and he had already
missed two meals. He also knew that his mother
would be particularly anxious about his return. Yellow
Rock was a very dangerous place for the unwary rider.
It was where his grandfather had died, as his mother
never ceased to remind him.
It was late afternoon when he finally rode back
into the horse yard at the homestead. He unsaddled
his pony and hosed him down before walking slowly
across to the house. His father was sitting on the
front steps.
'Feeling pretty bad about Glen, eh, Davie?' he
asked.
'Pretty bad, Dad.'
'Been up to Yellow Rock, I suppose?'
'Yes.'
'I think it's time you and I had a talk.'
'What about, Dad?'
'There's one thing you're going to have to come
to grips with, Davie. While there's live dogs, there's
going to be dead dogs. Things happen to dogs. You
can look after them real well and things can still go
wrong. Nobody can prevent that because you can't
wrap a working dog up in cotton wool.
'Look, I know Glen was your first dog and you
did a great job with him. But Glen won't be the last
dog you'll lose. I've lost a lot, and some of them were
better dogs than Glen. Never give your heart to a dog.
Not completely. You understand me? If you like a

dog too much, you'll be heartbroken every time you
lose one. You hear me?'
'I hear you, but it doesn't make me feel any better.'
'Son, when you're an animal person you've got to
understand that there are always going to be highs
and lows in your life. Dogs don't live all that long
and some have shorter lives than others. If you can't
handle the fact that you're going to lose some, you'd
be better to forget about them. The same goes for
horses. The one you like best is the one that stakes
itself or gets ripped up in barbed wire. You have to
be big enough to forget the losses and keep going.
The important thing is to have enough good breeding
stock on hand so you can carry on.'
'Yes, Dad, you've told me that before.'
'Then remember it. Now, I'll tell you what we'll
do. When Dawn whelps you can have the pick of her
male pups. He won't be the same as Glen but he will
be his son. How's that?'
'That's great, Dad. I'd really like a Glen pup,'
David said with something like his usual enthusiasm.
'Good. Feeling like something to eat?'
'I reckon I am.'
'Your mother has kept your lunch. One other
thing - if you ever ride off again without telling us
where you're going, I'll wallop the daylights out of
you. Is that understood?'
'Real clear, Dad,' he replied, heading up the steps
in slightly better spirits. He was going to get a new dog. He had already decided that he would call him

Lad. Short names were best for sheepdogs. As soon
as the pups' eyes were opened, he would start watching
them. When they were about three weeks old his
father would fire several shots close by so they would
learn not to be whip-shy. His father hated whip-shy
dogs.
It had looked like being a very bleak Christmas
without Glen, but at least now there was a pup to
look forward to.Chapter Seven





It was high summer and the Christmas holidays. Up
on High Peaks, Andrew and David MacLeod rode
the hills looking for flyblown sheep. There had been
a succession of storms and the muggy conditions were
proving ideal for blowflies.
At the foot of the high country, Catriona
Campbell was putting her new pony through its
paces. It had been a Christmas present from her
father, schooled by a top horseman and costing a great
deal of money. Not that money meant much to
Angus Campbell where his daughter was concerned.
Catriona had been born three years after her brother,
Stuart, and she was the apple of Angus's eye. Catriona
was a few months younger than David, but in some
ways a hundred years older in the head.
By the time she was ten years of age, Catriona,
daughter of the district's leading grazier, was a very
assured young lady. She was also remarkably pretty;

the prettiest girl for miles around. Her hair was
golden and naturally wavy and her eyes were soft and
brown, just like her mother's. Yet they could flash fire
and often did. Catriona was the kind of girl who drew
every eye. Fortunately, both Angus and Jane Campbell
were sensible people who did not spoil her too
much. Angus spent a lot of money on her horses and
riding equipment, but for all that, Catriona had to
toe the line.
One of the few boys who was not affected by
Catriona's looks was David MacLeod. He, it seemed,
always had more important things to do. The two
children had begun school the same day. It was a
small school at the foot of the range and was staffed
by two teachers. Although they sat in the same classroom
and played in the same playground, David
would seldom acknowledge Catriona's presence.
Catriona had visited High Peaks many times
before starting at school. Coming from very different
social circles, Jane Campbell and Anne MacLeod
shared an odd kind of friendship. Jane could be rather
superior in her ways but she did like Anne. Everybody
liked Anne MacLeod. Jane had known her before she
married Andrew and valued her obvious intelligence
and commonsense. Angus Campbell had never had
to do the kind of manual labour Andy was used to and
could never beat him at a sheepdog trial. Both
men helped each other out when it was needed, but
neither man thought of the other as a real friend.
Like a lot of young station-reared girls, Catriona

was very fond of horses and riding, and she had been
told many times how good at it she was - her pony
club triumphs attested to that. David would never go
to a pony club meet and was only ever seen at gymkhanas
and the local show. It seemed to Catriona that
David was by far the best young rider she had ever
encountered. He could do things that she had never
seen anyone do before, like standing bareback on his
pony and cracking a whip. He could also ride over
country that she was not even allowed to attempt.
What's more, he was beginning to develop into a very
handsome young man. Tall for his age, with wavy
brown hair that never seemed to blow about or look
untidy, David had inherited his father's captivating
grey eyes, although Catriona had once heard her
mother remark that David would be much better
looking than his father.
Throughout Catriona's childhood, David had
always been there. This was not just because the
MacLeods were the Campbells' closest neighbours,
but because David's exceptional ability with ponies
and stockwhips was becoming known across the high
country. But he lived his life oblivious to Catriona,
consumed as he was with his dogs and horses.
Although Angus was practically unbeatable with beef
cattle, sheep and wool, David had beaten him with a
dog. This turn of events caused David's popularity to
skyrocket, particularly in the eyes of Catriona.
It was a three-mile ride from the Campbell homestead
up the road to High Peaks and, in company

with Stuart, Catriona began making more regular
trips, ostensibly to exercise her ponies and visit
Anne MacLeod. Catriona already possessed the curiosity
of most girls where boys were concerned,
although her attraction towards David was more
stirred by his disregard for her than for anything
physical she might have felt. The ride to High
Peaks was a safe one, because for the first half of
the distance the road was visible from Inverlochy
and for the second half it was visible from High
Peaks homestead.
Catriona had her new grey show pony which she
wanted David to see, so she told her mother she
would ride to High Peaks to see Mrs MacLeod.
'Very well, Catriona. I'll call Anne and ask her if
it's convenient,' Jane Campbell said. 'I know she likes
to give you lunch when you visit.'
'I can take something to eat in a saddlebag,'
Catriona said.
'Not in this hot weather you can't. Anyway, Anne
looks after you very well.'
'But David goes out all day in the hills with what
he carries in his saddlebag,' Catriona said.
'David is David. You are not. I know you're a
good enough rider to get to High Peaks, but what
will you do when you get there?' Jane was beginning
to get suspicious of Catriona's constant desire to visit
the MacLeods.
'I talk to Mrs MacLeod about lots of things. I help
her make scones and cakes and other things David

likes. And sometimes she rides with me up to the high
places to meet David. I've been to most places except
Yellow Rock. Why did they call it Yellow Rock
anyway?' Catriona asked.
'I understand that it was because of all the broken
yellow rock on the slopes. The big rocks have become
eroded and cracked and when the sun shines on them
they appear very bright,' Jane explained.
'Mr MacLeod says it's too dangerous for me to
ride up there.'
'Very sensible of him, too. David's grandfather was
killed there,' Jane reminded her.
'Yes, I know. It's funny it isn't too dangerous for
David. He has been going up Yellow Rock for years
and he's the same age as me,' Catriona said petulantly.
'If the MacLeods choose to risk their only child,
that's their business. However, they are absolutely
right not to let you ride up it,' Jane said with some
asperity.
'Which only goes to show how much better a rider
they consider David to be,' Catriona said.
'Catriona, don't be tiresome. There's more to it
than you imagine. The MacLeod horses have all been
reared in that kind of country. They're very surefooted
and they are also used to carpet snakes. There
are quite a lot of those up there. Horses bred on flat
country don't handle the rough country as well. I've
heard your father say so on several occasions. The
track up to Yellow Rock is only three feet wide in
places. Have some sense, Catriona.'

Catriona was delighted that her mother was letting
her visit High Peaks, so she was content to let the
argument rest there - for the time being anyway.
Catriona set off on her journey after breakfast next
morning. Jane watched her until she was out of sight.
The grey pony had a good walking pace and handled
the rise to High Peaks very comfortably. It was just
on ten a.m. when Catriona rode into the house yard.
Anne was standing on the front verandah with a pair
of binoculars in her hand.
'Hello, Catriona. Is this the new pony?'
'Good morning, Mrs MacLeod. Yes, this is Princess.
Do you like her?'
'She is very pretty,' Anne said diplomatically.
'Very pretty indeed.' Anne had learned a lot about
horses since her marriage to Andrew. The first thing
she had learned was that the best-looking horses were
not necessarily the best horses overall. Not that she
doubted the quality of the grey pony. Angus Campbell
wouldn't waste money on inferior stock.
'I'm sure you're ready for some morning tea. I've
some fresh cake and scones inside. And what about a
cold orange drink?'
'That would be lovely, thank you,' Catriona said
with her usual impeccable manners, and in the next breath: 'Is David close by?'
'No, I'm afraid he isn't. He went to look at sheep
on Yellow Rock. And Andy is up on Jimmy's Mountain.
They saw a couple of flyblown sheep yesterday
and missed them. I doubt that either will be home

before late afternoon,' Anne explained.
'Oh,' Catriona sighed. 'I did want David to see
Princess. Do you think I could ride up towards
Yellow Rock?'
'Well, I don't know. How far would you go?'
'Up to the first big rocks. Mr MacLeod has never
let me go beyond there.'
'I know. I have ridden right up Yellow Rock a few
times and I always have my heart in my mouth. It's
a very dangerous ride, but if you only go as far as the
big rocks, that should be all right. David may see you
crossing the creek and come down to you. If you
don't meet up with him, you must come back here.'
'Very well, Mrs Mac,' Catriona agreed.
So after morning tea Catriona rode out of the
house yard and down past the kennels that housed
the MacLeod kelpies to the first gate. This opened
into what the MacLeods called their holding paddock.
Here sheep were turned in while waiting to be
crutched or shorn or before being taken back to the
old paddocks. This paddock opened into the first hill
paddock, which was well grassed and not as steep as
on the range proper. The further slope ran down to
the creek, which she crossed before ascending into
higher country. Half Moon Creek bisected the hills
on either side of her. It was a favourite place for
picnics and she had been there several times. A few
wethers and some horned Hereford cows grazed
along the creek. The peak of Yellow Rock towered
majestically above her, dominating the rest of the

countryside. From the creek it was a long, slow climb
to the first big rocks. These were a collection of rocks
of many different shapes and sizes which were scattered
about over perhaps half an acre of hillside. Anne
once said the rocks had probably been distributed as
the result of some monstrous disturbance, like an
earthquake. David, more romantically, had said that
it looked as if a giant with a bad temper had flung
them about.
This part of the climb, though steep, was not too
rough, but from the big rocks on, the going became
increasingly tough. Catriona dismounted and let her
pony have a breather. Princess had been watered
down at the creek and she was still quite fresh. She
immediately began to crop the short grass between
the rocks. Her small owner climbed up on top of one
of the big rocks to get a better look at the mountain.
There was no sign of David or his horse. That settled
it - if David could ride up Yellow Rock, so could
she! What a surprise he would get when she appeared
near the top of the mountain.
Having made up her mind, Catriona remounted
and pointed her pony up the track that led through
the scattered rocks up one side of the mountain. The
going got more difficult as the gradient grew steeper
and the short grass gave way to crumbled rock and
dead timber. The track grew narrower; in places it
was no more than three or four feet wide. On her left
the mountainside plunged away steeply. Slowly, very
slowly, Catriona let her pony pick her way up the

mountain. They came to one particularly narrow
section which showed obvious evidence of past landslides.
Water rushing off the mountain had scoured
out rock and shale and pushed it into a ravine below
the track. There was a great mound of soil, sand and
fine rock that had built up over countless years. It
was at that moment that she saw David silhouetted
against the skyline. He was not on horseback and she
remembered that Anne had told her it was impossible
for anyone to ride right to the top of Yellow Rock.
The last section of the mountain had to be climbed
on foot.
David caught sight of the small rider on the grey
pony just as Catriona saw him appear at the rim of
the plateau that was the peak of Yellow Rock. His
surprise was great, but it did not last long.
'Cat, don't come any higher! Get off and back
your pony,' he shouted at the top of his voice. 'Don't
try and turn her. The track's too narrow.'
Catriona had been on the verge of doing exactly
what David had screamed at her. It was just that,
having come so far, she couldn't bear to turn back
and miss the chance to really surprise David.
Catriona took up the reins and gave the command
to back. Princess took one obedient step backwards,
but right at that critical moment she saw, smelt or
sensed the big carpet snake in the small cave above
the track. The side of the mountain was so steep that
the cave was just above her head. Perfectly mannered
and tutored though she was, Princess, like most

horses, had an innate fear of snakes. She reacted to
the snake's presence by taking one step sideways. Her
near side front and back feet went over the ledge and
she fell away down the slope.
David heard Catriona's scream as pony and rider
fell over the ledge. He watched in horror as they hit
the rubble and slid down the gully, finally coming to
rest on the mound of sand and shale. Catriona had
been thrown clear of Princess, who had somehow
managed to get back onto her feet. Her legs had sunk
several inches deep in the mound, which had halted
the pony's descent down the mountain. But Catriona
was lying prostrate.
David rushed down off the peak, leading his own
pony as fast as he could, until he came to a section
of track wide enough for him to tether it. He then
lay on his stomach and looked down to where
Catriona and her pony had fallen.
Catriona was trying to get up but there seemed
to be something wrong with one of her legs. Her
blouse had ripped away from one shoulder and a
leg of her jodhpurs was hanging loose. Blood was
running down one side of her face and dripping onto
the front of her blouse. The pony seemed to have
fared better than her rider. She had hair missing
from two large areas, a shoulder and just below her
rump. A small trickle of blood dropped onto the
sand.
'Cat, are you okay?' David called anxiously.
'I don't think so. My leg hurts awfully and so does

my shoulder.' He heard her voice weakly, as if it were
coming from a great distance.
'Can you stand up?' he asked.
'I don't know. I'm too sore and everything hurts.
Everything.' Catriona was crying and in deep shock.
Her tears were flowing in little runnels through the
dirt on her face. It was the most terrifying thing that
had ever happened in her short life.
She had been temporarily stunned by the fall,
though partly cushioned from full impact with the
ground by the pony's body. One leg and shoulder
had taken the weight of the landing. Now that the
impact of the fall was wearing off, Catriona became
aware of pain in several places. David was the only
person within miles of her, and she realised instinctively
that he could do very little to help her.
David squatted on his heels and examined the
crying girl and her pony. He studied the slide and
the position of the sun and came to a quick decision.
Taking his handkerchief from his pocket, he knotted
it around the neck of the blue kelpie at his side. Ben
was one of Andy's old dogs, but David had worked
him up until he'd been given Glen. Since Glen's
death, David had gone back to using Ben. 'Here, Ben,
get down.'
He pushed the dog over the ledge and watched
him slide down the gully to where Catriona lay on
the heap of rubble. The dog looked up at the boy
and wagged his tail gently.
'Cat, untie the handkerchief from around Ben's

neck and lay it on the ground. Can you do that?'
He watched as Catriona untied the knot and
spread the hankie out beside her.
'Stay, Ben. Stay,' he called down to the dog. Ben
lay down on the square of cloth with his head pointing
up to the ledge. The boy knew that his dog
would not move from the handkerchief until commanded
to do so. Ben would guard a saddle, a
bridle, a stockwhip or any item of clothing. 'Watch
it, Ben.'
'What are we going to do?' Catriona wailed. She
was hurting, and very, very frightened.
'Cat, I'm going to have to leave you and go for
help. Ben will stay with you until we get back. Is your
watch still working?'
She looked down at her wrist and nodded. 'It
seems to be.'
'What time is it?' he asked.
'Ten past one,' she called through her sobs.
'We'll be back here between two and three. I'll
have to ride one of Dad's horses to make it quicker.
Don't be scared. I'll bring ropes and a blanket for the
other fellas to use. We'll have you up in no time. You
thirsty?'
'A little bit,' Catriona sobbed. The prospect of
David leaving her brought renewed misery.
David went back to his pony and unstrapped his
water bottle. It was an unbreakable ex-army bottle
which he threw down beside her.
'See you soon, Cat,' he called over his shoulder.

And then he was gone, leaving Catriona and Ben
alone on the mountain.

Anne MacLeod was standing on the verandah with
the binoculars glued to her eyes when she saw her son
appear through the opening that led up into the
steeper part of the property. He was alone and
pushing his pony hard. David would never ride his
pony in such a fashion unless something was wrong.
She walked down the steps and stood by the gate,
holding it open so David would not have to stop.
The pony was lathered and heaving and David was
off in a flash. He took the bridle and saddle across to
the stables that housed the working horses. Anne
closed the gate and hurried after him, sure now that
something awful had happened.
'David, stop. What's the matter?' she asked
anxiously.
'Can't stop, Mum. Catriona is hurt. Maybe real
bad. She and her pony went over the track on Yellow
Rock. They landed on the sand pile. The pony is
missing a bit of skin but doesn't look too bad. Cat
doesn't seem to be able to get up. There's something
wrong with one of her legs, and her shoulder is hurt,
too.' He was panting as he threw the saddle on his
father's mare, Jess.
'Oh, my God. What are you doing with that
horse?'
'I'm going back to her. I'll take some throwing
ropes, a blanket and another bottle of water. Mum,

put the sheet out for Dad. When he gets here tell
him we're near the place where he found Grandfather.
Just a bit this side. He knows the spot. You'll have
to ring Mr Campbell and get him and Stuart up here.
They'd better bring saddled horses on their truck.
Dad will need to show them the way. And, Mum,
you'd better ring for the ambulance.'
'David, you aren't going on Jess?'
Jess was one of Andy's camp horses and much
bigger than David's ponies. Unbeknown to Anne,
Andy had let David try her out during their mustering
trips.
'I've ridden her in the yard and I know I can
manage her,' he fibbed. 'I need to get back to Cat in
a hurry. She's crying a lot.'
Anne looked at her son in astonishment. He was
only ten, yet here he was taking charge of a very
serious situation and telling her what to do into the
bargain. He was for all the world like a seasoned
campaigner.
'Mum, tell Dad I've taken three throwing ropes.
He had better bring his rifle in case we have to
destroy Cat's pony. I don't think we can get her up
the slope.'
'I thought you said the pony seemed all right,'
Anne said with a frown.
'It would need a lot of men to get her up, and she
might go crazy.'
'David, you must wait up top until Andy arrives.
Don't try and do anything on your own. Promise me.'

'Cat is hurt, Mum. Hurt and scared. I have to get
down to her. Don't worry. If Dad asks about Ben,
tell him I left him with Cat.'
He rolled a blanket into a tight bundle and tied it
neatly to the cantle of the saddle. He then used a
piece of doubled binder twine to tie the throwing
ropes through the saddle Ds. The last item to be
added was a water canteen, which he filled from a tap
in the horse yard.
'Put the sheet out quick, Mum,' he said as he
climbed into the saddle.
With her heart in her mouth, Anne watched
David lean over the mare's neck and send her racing
up the track into the hills. He rode that horse as if
he had been born on her back. It was only after Anne
had lost sight of him that she hurried to the house
for the sheet. There had been a longstanding arrangement
between Anne and her husband that in an emergency
a white sheet would be hung over the back
fence or the fence into the holding paddock. This
could be seen from most vantage points about the
property.
Anne knew that Andy was up on Jimmy's Mountain
and would have no trouble seeing the signal. She
just prayed he would see it soon enough. It sounded
as if Catriona were seriously injured. That was the
only reason Anne had not raised stronger objections
to David's rescue plans. In Andy's absence, David was
the only person able to get back to Catriona in a
hurry.

The sheet in place, she hurried back to the house
and rang the Inverlochy number.
'Is that you, Jane? It's Anne MacLeod. Is Angus
there?'
'He's in the study going over his books. Is something
wrong?' There was a sharp edge to Jane's voice.
'Please get Angus, Jane. Get him quickly,' she said
urgently.
'There is something wrong. Oh, Angus. Quickly.
It's Anne.'
Angus came on the phone almost immediately.
'What is it, Anne?'
'There's been an accident. Catriona and her pony
have gone over the ledge at Yellow Rock. She is conscious,
but there's something wrong with her leg or
ankle. David said she can't stand up. He's taken ropes
and a blanket back with him, but he won't be able
to get her up on his own. I've put out a signal for
Andy. Can you bring a saddled horse on your truck?
I'll ring the ambulance to save time.'
'Anything else?'
'I don't think so. Oh, it might be an idea to bring
another man with you in case Andy doesn't turn up.
I can take you up there, but you might need some
more muscle.'
'I'll bring Stuart. Be there soon.'
Anne put the phone down with relief and hurried
down to the horse yard to saddle a fresh horse for
Andy as well as her own mare. That would save some
time. As much as she was concerned for Catriona and

her parents, Anne's mind was consumed with concern
for her small son.
Her eyes searched the heights above her for the
first sign of her husband. Please, God, let him see the
sheet quickly.Chapter Eight





Upon Jimmy's Mountain, Andy MacLeod finished
his sandwiches and downed the last dregs of tea from
his enamel mug. He scuffed earth over the small fire
he had lit to boil his billy and then stretched out with
his back against a log. From where he lay he had a
clear view down the mountain. The homestead was
at its base. It was the centre of Andy's life more than
ever with Anne and David there.
Suddenly, he jumped to his feet in one movement.
Something was wrong: there was a white sheet laid
over the back fence. There must be an emergency.
Andy turned and strode to where the brown
gelding was hitched to a sapling. He tightened the
saddle girth and was in the saddle and moving down
the mountain in a matter of seconds. If there was an
emergency, it was likely to involve David.
On her umpteenth trip to the back gate Anne saw
her husband coming down the mountain as fast as

his horse could handle the slope. She went round to
the horse yard where David's pony stood munching
the hay she had fed it.
Andy approached and leapt off his horse in a flash.
'What's wrong, Anne? Is it David?'
She shook her head and as briefly as possible
explained how Catriona had come to be stuck up on
Yellow Rock.
Andy looked across at the two saddled horses and
Anne responded to his unspoken question. 'A fresh
horse for you and one for me so I can either go with
you or guide Angus up.'
'Yes,' he said. He looked down the road past the
homestead and saw a cream utility tearing up the road
towards High Peaks. It was Jane Campbell at the
wheel with Stuart sitting beside her.
'Dad's not far behind,' Stuart said as soon as he
got out of the car. 'We'd turned the horses out into
another paddock and they took a while to collect.'
Anne went to Jane and put an arm around her
shoulders. 'It'll be all right, Jane. They'll get her up.'
A few minutes later the red International truck
came up the road as fast as it could. Angus nodded
a quick greeting and without further discussion he
and Stuart had the ramp of the truck down and their
two horses on the ground. Anne noted how much
Stuart had grown since she'd last seen him. He was
a big boy for thirteen.
Anne and Jane watched them as they mounted.
There was a rifle in the scabbard of Andy's saddle

and he had added an extra coil of rope.
'Time to go,' he said. Angus and Stuart followed
him out of the horse yard and down to the first gate.
Then they were through and riding fast for the hills
and Yellow Rock.
Jane was crying as she watched the men leave. She
had heard terrible stories about Yellow Rock and how
dangerous it was. It was the very same mountain that
had claimed the life of Andrew's father. Now her
small daughter was lying injured somewhere up there.
'Don't worry, Jane, Andy will know what to do,'
Anne said as she took Jane's hand, at the same time
trying to keep her eyes trained on the three riders.
'She's only a little girl and that would have been
a terrible fall. She could be hurt internally.'
'She wasn't knocked out, so she couldn't have hit
her head too badly,' Anne said in as confident a voice
as she could muster.
'How long do you think they'll be?'
'If they don't have any trouble, they should be
back here within, say, two and a half hours. While
we're waiting, I'll make some fresh scones and sandwiches.
Perhaps the ambulancemen would like something
while they wait. Why don't you come and help
me?' Anne wanted to get Jane involved and keep her
mind off what was happening on the mountain as
much as possible.
Andy pushed his horse hard on the lower hill
country. He made fair pace until he reached Yellow
Rock and from then on it was all hard slogging. Stuart

Campbell had ridden over some of High Peaks, while
Angus had not been up the mountain since the day
they had recovered the body of Andy's father. When
they came out of the valley and began to climb, the
horses could not travel faster than a walk.
The steepness of Yellow Rock shook Angus up a
little. That last time he had accompanied his father
and had been anxious to prove his mettle. He'd had
the notion that the danger posed by Yellow Rock was
overrated. That first ride up the mountain had disabused
him of that idea. Now older and wiser, he fully
appreciated the danger of the place. He found it hard
to understand why his small daughter would have tried
to climb the mountain in the first place, especially on
her own. What motivation could Catriona have had to
attempt such a ride on her new pony, a pony that had
not been reared in this country?
The going got steeper and rougher before they
came to a small grassy clearing. It was not much more
than five or six yards across and there were kurrajong
trees growing quite thickly on the slopes above the
clearing. The mare David had ridden was tethered to
a gum sapling. She nickered softly when the other
horses came into view.
'We'll leave the horses here and go the last bit on
foot,' Andrew said as he dismounted. He took the
rope and rifle from the saddle and tethered his horse
alongside Jess. The Campbells followed his example
and then they all set off up the slope. The track narrowed
quickly and became much steeper, and Angus

had to push himself to keep up with the others.
'There's the spot!' Andy said suddenly as they
came up over a small rise. Here they had an almost
clear view of the mountain's side. And there below
them were the two children, the grey pony and Ben.
Andrew took in the scene at a quick glance. David
had tied the throwing ropes together and one end was
anchored to a half-grown kurrajong on the slope
above the track. He had gone down hand over hand
and he was standing beside a prostrate Catriona.
David had made a pillow from a blanket and had
placed it under her head. It looked as if he had given
her a drink of water and washed her face, too, because
there were two canteens on the ground beside her.
David waved and called out when he spotted his
father on the ledge above.
Andrew did not waste any time. He turned
towards Angus and Stuart and proceeded to tell them
what had to be done. The big rope had to be tied to
the tree around which David had anchored his rope.
The blanket under Catriona's head would be passed
beneath her so it acted as a kind of sled. A loop of
rope, protected by the blanket, would have to go
under her armpits so that Angus and Stuart could pull
her back up the slope. When they had done that, he
would come back hand over hand with David on his
back.
'What's to be done with the pony, Andy?' Angus
asked.
'I'll have a look at her when I get down there.

I don't think there's a hope in hell of getting her back
up the slope without equipment, and there's no room
to use it anyway. Maybe a dozen men could pull her
up, but we haven't got that sort of manpower.'
'Do what you think is best, Andy,' Angus said
grimly.
Andrew nodded and, taking up the rope, he went
down over the side. It did not take long for his mind
to flash back to the day he had done the same thing
to recover his father's body. When he reached the
mound of rubble, he put one big hand on his son's
head. 'You should have waited up top, Davie,' he
said.
'Cat was crying and it was hot so I came down
and washed her face and gave her a drink. I couldn't
leave her down here, Dad,' he replied.
'Well, no point worrying about that now. Miss
Catriona, how are you feeling? Where do you hurt?'
'Everywhere,' she wailed.
'Anywhere in particular?'
'My ankle hurts a lot and my shoulder. Everywhere.'
Her shirt and riding breeches were torn and
there were some nasty patches of scraped skin.
'Have you tried to stand up?' Andy asked.
'Mmm,' she mumbled through her tears. 'Once.
My left ankle hurts a lot. Does Mummy know?'
'Your mother is with David's mother back at the
house. You'll be with her before long. Your daddy
and Stuart are up on the ledge, too.'
'Yes, I can see them.'

'Good. You can't have concussion. Looks like your
shoulder and left side took most of the shock.'
He examined Catriona's left ankle and frowned.
It was very swollen and, if not broken, severely
bruised.
Andy realised that he could not proceed with
his original plan of putting a loop under the girl's
shoulders. That would put too much strain on the
damaged shoulder. He would have to double the
blanket and cut holes through it for the rope and he
would put a second rope around her waist as a precautionary
measure in case the blanket tore.
'I'll tell you what we are going to do, young lady.
I'm going to use this blanket as a sled and your daddy
and Stuart will pull you up the slope. When they pull
you up the slide, you must keep very still and not
struggle. If you do that, it won't take very long to get
you up to your dad. You can do that, can't you?'
'I think so.'
'Good girl. Remember, keep very still.'
Andrew spread the blanket and then doubled it
before cutting two holes to take the rope. A loop of his
own big rope was then knotted about the girl's waist.
'Keep your arms close to your sides, on the
blanket, and keep your legs dead straight. That way
you won't get rubbed. Do you understand?'
Catriona nodded in reply.
'Okay, away we go.' He looked up to the ledge
where Angus and Stuart were anxiously waiting for
instructions.

'Righto, up top. You can start pulling. Easy does
it, no jerks, just keep a steady strain on the big rope.'
Angus and Stuart began pulling. Andrew watched
critically as Catriona was pulled closer and closer to
the track above. Then she was there and he saw Angus
bend over and pick her up.
Now that Catriona was safe enough, she thought
about her pony.
'You won't shoot Princess, will you, Daddy? It
wasn't her fault. It was the snake that frightened her
over the edge.'
'I don't know, sweetheart. We are not sure we can
get her up the slope.'
'Oh, you mustn't shoot her, Daddy, you mustn't,'
she cried.
'It's up to Mr MacLeod, Catriona. He will do what's best. Here, you sit with me for a little while
until we're ready to go back.'
Andrew was looking over the grey pony. Except
for the missing areas of skin, he could not find anything
seriously wrong with her. She was standing
fetlock-deep in the rubble and waiting very patiently,
like the lovely mannered thing she was, for someone
to guide her away.
'Right, that's one down, or up, Davie. Now it's
your turn. You could go up on my back, or we could
put a loop round you and pull you up.'
Neither suggestion found any favour with David.
He had other ideas. Catriona had pleaded with him
not to let them destroy her pony and he was not

going to have that happen if he could help it. He had
a lot of time to think about the pony and he reckoned
he knew how to save her.
'What about the pony, Dad?' he asked.
'I think we'll have to put her down, I'm afraid.
We can't get her up that slope on our own.'
'Dad, there's no need to shoot her. I think I can
ride her out.'
Andy looked at his son in amazement. 'Ride her
out? No way. You'd kill yourself.'
'No I won't. I worked it out while I was waiting
for you. There's a ledge under this rubble that runs
away to the left. We could push some more rubble
down to make a better slide down to it. If I lead the
pony by the reins and you push her, she'll slide down
to the next ledge. I can lead her for a bit and then
ride her down the mountain and meet you at the
bottom.'
'Davie, it's just too dangerous. I can't let you do it.'
'Dad, Cat doesn't want her pony to die. It was a
present and she thinks the world of her. I promised
her I would get her pony down off here. I can do it.
I know I can.'
'What do you reckon, Andy?' Angus called down
from above.
'Angus, you take Catriona back to the house.
Stuart had better stay where he is. We're going to try
and save the pony. Tell the women you came on
ahead. Just get Catriona back to the house. Can you
manage it?'

'I reckon so.'
'If you can't manage her on your horse, stop and
wait for us.'
'Okay. Thanks, Andy. I'll be seeing you,' Angus
called down.
Andy MacLeod knew he had made a decision he
might live to regret, but David had made a promise
to Catriona and he couldn't let her down. If anyone
could get the pony off the mountain, David could.
Commonsense told him that it would be wiser to put
the pony down, but he had to admit that what David
suggested might just work.
Andy looked over the edge of the rubble pile and
noted that it might be possible to get the pony down
to that secondary ledge and from there find a way
across the face of the mountain. But would the pony
be up to it? She'd had a bad shaking-up and would
get another fright when they pushed her down the
side.
'We'll give it a go, Davie. Let's start shoving some
of this rubble.'
They sat down and began pushing with their legs.
Andrew marvelled at his son's spirit. The sand started
to run and then the flow increased so it poured down
the slope to the ledge below. In half an hour they
had a ramp made of the rubble and a fairly substantial
heap on the bottom ledge.
'Davie, you slide down on to that mound and I'll
see if I can get the pony down to you. You'll have to
be quick and try to catch the reins so she can't swing

about and go overboard. Understand?'
'I understand, Dad.'
'Be careful.'
David slid on his bottom down the slope. Andrew
took up the pony's bridle and she followed him like
a dog. But she did not like the ramp and backed
away.
'Stuart,' Andrew called up to the young man who
had waited patiently on the track above him, 'pull
those throwing ropes up and undo them. Then throw
one down to me.'
When the rope came thudding down, Andrew put
a loop under the pony's back legs. He was going to
pull the legs from under her so that she would come
down on her rump and slide down the makeshift slide
to the next mound. It took a bit of doing, but at last
Andy managed it and the grey pony slid down to
where David stood waiting for her. She landed beside
him and he grabbed her bridle and held it fast. He
rubbed the pony's forehead and talked softly to her
until she settled down. She had lost some more skin
but it was a miracle she was still alive. David now
had to persuade her to jump off the mound on to
the solid ground of the slope, which, though grassy,
was very steep.
'Give her a whack with the end of the rope when
I jump across, Dad,' David called to his father. He
took the bridle in his right hand and slid, then
jumped to the slope. His father gave the rope a big
overhead swing and brought it down across the pony's

rump. Princess took off. She half stumbled and
almost went down before recovering her footing.
Finally she stood upright beside David on the steep
slope of the face of Yellow Rock.
David's grin almost split his face in half. 'See you
down the track, Dad.'
'You be careful, Davie. Don't try and ride her yet,
just lead her until you get down a bit further. I'll wait
for you.'
Wait? He'd wait forever. What David had done
was madness, but it was magnificent. Yet he knew
that Anne would have a very different view. There
would be fireworks when she found out.
Ben had stood patiently beside them all the while
they worked on getting Princess down. Now he
looked up at Andrew with a knowing expression in
his big brown eyes. He seemed to know it was time
to go. 'I haven't forgotten you, old fellow,' Andrew
said to the dog, and stroked him lightly on his head.
Andrew and Stuart made their way down the
mountain to where their horses were tethered and
then rode to the base of Yellow Rock. There was still
no sign of David, but Andrew did not expect him for
some time. They had a track to come down, whereas
David would have to pick his way carefully across that
steep face.
'I wouldn't like to be riding down there,' Stuart
said and shivered. 'It would have been better to put
the pony down. No horse is worth a person's life.'
Andrew had a very good idea that his wife would

agree. He appreciated what Stuart was saying but
Davie was an extraordinary boy. He was a bugger of
a boy in some ways, self-willed, sometimes disobedient
and overconfident of his talents, but, for all that,
he was a bottler.
'He's only a kid ... ten years old,' Stuart said.
'Almost eleven. And that's David,' Andrew said.
They sat their horses for a few minutes and then
dismounted.
Time continued to pass slowly. After a while
Andrew began to worry. Really worry. And then at
last he saw boy and pony come into view away to
their left. The first thing Andy noticed was that David
was holding the pony with a very short rein, and with
his right hand - something David never did. As they
drew closer, Andrew's keen eyes picked up the blood
running down the boy's face.
'I think,' he said very slowly, 'he has come a
cropper.'
But David still managed a grin as he came up to
them.
'You came off?' Andrew asked, not able to recall
the last time that had happened.
'It wasn't the pony's fault, Dad. Even Jess would
have had a job to stay on her feet back there. She's a
good pony, not just a pretty one. She's done really
well.'
'What about you? Your face is a mess. We'll have
to clean that up when we get to the creek or your
mother will have a fit. I reckon that pony must be

busting for a drink, too. And why are you riding with
your right hand?'
'Oh, it's nothing much, Dad.' He wasn't going to
let on about his shoulder in front of Stuart Campbell,
the schoolboy football star.
'Do you want to rest for a while?' Andrew asked.
'No, but you could let me ride Jess and you could
lead the pony,' David suggested.
Andrew nodded. He watched critically as the boy
mounted the bigger horse. It was obvious that there
was something wrong with his left shoulder: he had
trouble pulling himself into the saddle.
When they got to the creek, the water tasted wonderful
but it stung David's face. 'You'll have a nasty
cut there,' Andrew observed.
'It'll be okay,' David said. 'It couldn't be as bad
as the one I had on my leg.'
'Maybe not, but it's more visible. All right, let's
go and face the music'
They rode back to the homestead just as the sun
was going down behind the range. Surprisingly, Angus
Campbell was standing with Anne at the gate of the
horse yard. Anne's eyes were on her son and they
widened when she noted the raw wound on his face.
'David, are you all right? What happened? How
come you have Catriona's pony?' Anne turned to her
husband. 'Andrew MacLeod, you didn't allow David
to ride down that face?'
'There's jobs to do, Anne. We'll talk about it later,'
Andrew said. He was watching David closely. If his

suspicions were correct, the boy would not be able to
unsaddle and carry Jess's gear. He wanted Anne out
of the way so that she would not notice it, too. He
turned to Angus. 'What's the news on Catriona?'
'The ambulance men said she has a broken ankle
and could have a broken rib or two. She has severe
bruising, but they don't know yet whether there is
any internal damage. I'll go to town when we get the
horses back. I wanted to be sure everything turned
out okay with you people.'
'Yes, everything is fine and Catriona still has her
pony. In a few weeks, when the skin grows, she'll be
right as rain.'
'Andy, you go and feed the dogs, and David and
I will look after the horses,' Anne said. 'Dinner is
ready and I am sure David, at least, is ready for it
after the day he has had.'
David stood and looked appealingly towards his
father.
Angus looked on, an unwilling spectator. He realised
Anne was about ready to explode. It was an
awkward situation and he felt rotten about it.
Anne was very smart. When David did not immediately
reach to unsaddle Jess, she realised there was
something amiss. 'What is it, David? Is there something
else wrong with you? Something you haven't
told me?'
David shrugged. He knew it would come out
sooner or later so he might as well get it over with.
There was no way he could carry the big saddle and

that's all there was to it. 'I hurt my shoulder, Mum.
I can't carry the saddle.'
'My God. How bad is it?'
'It's not too bad. I just can't use it.'
'You just can't use it? Right, I'm taking you
straight into town. It's the doctor for you, young
man.'
'There's no need for that, Mum. If we have to go,
tomorrow will do. Can't you just put my arm in a
sling?'
'Is it hurting much?'
'Not too much.'
Anne turned around and glared at her husband.
'Andrew, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. How
could you risk your son's life for a horse?'
'I asked Dad to let me do it. Cat begged me not
to let them put the pony down. Mr Campbell, please
tell her that her pony is okay.'
'Go straight inside, David. I'll have a look at you
in a moment. Andrew, you fix the horses.'
'Can we do anything, Anne?' Angus asked.
'No, Angus, thanks all the same. You and Stuart
get your horses loaded and head off. That pony looks
as if she needs some treatment. And no doubt Jane
will be expecting you at the hospital. If there's any
news on Catriona, please ring us.'
Angus nodded. 'Thank you, Andrew and David,
for what you did. I don't know how Catriona got
herself into that mess but I plan to find out. I can
assure you that she won't do it again.'

'I wouldn't be too hard on her, Angus,' Anne said
with a knowing smile.
Angus held out his hand. 'A man couldn't have
better neighbours. Thank you all. I'll find a way to
thank you.'
'No call for that,' Andrew said. 'Neighbours ought
to help each other. That's the way it's always been.'
'Hmph. Anne, if there are any medical costs with
young David, you let me know. Can't have you
people out of pocket.'
Andrew helped them load the three horses and
then went off to feed his dogs. Anne went back to
the house.
David was inside lying on the sofa. He looked all in.
Anne unbuttoned his shirt, took it off and then began
to slip his singlet over his head. She noted that his
mouth was clamped shut. There was a large red mark
on the point of his left shoulder and he could not raise
his arm. He would have a huge bruise in the morning.
'Commonsense tells me I should take you in to
town tonight but perhaps you are more in need of
some food and a sleep. Ill take you in first thing
tomorrow. Are you hungry?'
'Too right,' he said.
'Good. I'll give you a wash-down since I can't get
that singlet off. Then we'll have dinner.'
She didn't say much through the meal and David
knew that she was very angry with his father. She had
told him many times that he was a hard bushman
who expected too much of his son. David always felt

that his mother made too much of a fuss about such
things. A fellow had to take some risks. Living on
High Peaks wasn't the same as living in a back yard
in town. Having a buster off a horse wasn't really
much different to being bashed up playing footy. But
he knew that as soon as he was asleep his mother
would argue with his father. Such arguments didn't
occur very often, nearly always concerned him and,
though fiery, were usually over in a day or so.
David's aunt Kate had explained to him once why
his mother got so uptight about his 'adventures'.
'You see, David, your parents really wanted three
or four children, but just before you were born, your
mum had an accident. What it meant was that she
couldn't have any more children. So, Davie, you're
it. That's why you're so precious. Don't be too hard
on your mum. If you were my son, I would feel
exactly the same way she does.'
That evening, while the three of them were eating
dessert, the telephone rang. Anne took the call and
listened carefully. When she came back to the dinner
table she spoke directly to David and wouldn't so
much as look at her husband.
'That was Mrs Campbell. Catriona is spending a
little time in hospital. She would like you to go and
see her tomorrow. I told her I would be taking you
in to the doctor first thing in the morning.'
'Aw, Mum, do I have to? I hate hospitals and I
wouldn't know what to say to Cat. Couldn't you go
on and see her on your own?'

David looked pleadingly towards his father but got
no help there. Andy knew that the best and quickest
way to bring one of these rare domestic arguments to
an end was to let Anne have her way.
'No. I'm sure that Catriona intends to thank you
for what you did. If you choose to play the hero, you
must be gracious when people offer their thanks.'
'Fool of a girl,' David muttered under his breath.
'What did you say?' Anne asked sharply.
'I said she's a fool of a girl,' David answered
sulkily.
'Really. What makes you say that?'
'She should never have tried to ride up that mountain.
She was told not to but, no, she had to try and
show off her new pony and prove it was as good as
ours, and that she could ride wherever we ride. That's
just like the Campbells. They hate to think that
anyone owns anything better than they do. Everyone
knows what they are like. It's common knowledge,
even at school, that Mr Campbell has a burr in his
pants because he can't beat Dad at the dog trials.'
'I don't approve of that remark, David,' Anne
replied. 'I think that there was more to Catriona
riding up Yellow Rock than you imagine. I think
perhaps she rather likes you, David. I know she is
only young, but she is a very grown-up little miss for
her age.'
David groaned. 'I don't want to have anything to
do with girls, thank you very much.'
'But it is nice to have good friends - boys and

girls. I'm actually thinking of inviting Catriona up
here for your eleventh birthday.'
David screwed up his face and groaned again. 'Aw,
Mum, you wouldn't? It would spoil the whole day.
I rode up to Yellow Rock to get away from her. I saw
her coming through the gate of Creek Paddock and
shot off. Jeez
'David, mind your language, please. I happen to
think it's time you mixed a bit more with children
your own age. There is more to growing up than
training dogs, riding horses and cracking whips.'
David realised it was no good trying to argue with
his mother while she was in that frame of mind.
There were times when he could get her thinking his
way but this wasn't one of them. She was crooked on
his father for letting him rescue the pony and she
wasn't going to let up.
Later that night Anne gave David an aspirin for
the pain in his shoulder and he fell asleep almost
immediately.
The next morning his shoulder was very stiff and
sore and his mother had to help him to dress. They
had an early breakfast, which was a silent affair as
his mother and father were still hardly speaking to
each other. As David got into the car his father
gave him a secret wink and he knew he had him
onside.
At the surgery, Dr Fuller examined David's shoulder
closely then turned to him and said, 'You are a
very lucky boy from all accounts. There is nothing

serious to worry about, but there is a good deal of
bruising and your shoulder will be sore for a few days.
It will help if you keep it in a sling, and your mother
can make up some ice packs.'
David was extremely accommodating with Dr
Fuller, in an attempt to get out of the surgery as
quickly as possible.
At the hospital, a very subdued Catriona was lying
quietly in bed with her mother sitting by her side.
Her eyes brightened when she saw Anne and David
enter the room.
Anne had warned David to be especially nice to
Catriona as she was feeling down. She had some skin
off her face, although David's face was in far worse
shape.
'How are you feeling, Cat?' he asked.
'Better, thank you,' she replied. 'Still sore in some
places. I hear you had a buster getting Princess down
the mountain.'
'Aw, it was nothing much,' he said.
'Then why have you got your arm in a sling and
such an awful bruise on your face?' she asked.
'The shoulder is just a bit sore,' he said. He hated
being sick in any shape or form.
'You were very brave to rescue me and even braver
to get Princess down. Daddy says it was very bad of
me to ask you to try and save her, but I knew they
would shoot her if you didn't try something.'
'The pony's okay, Cat. You would have been
proud of her.'

'Daddy has had the vet out to look at her. He says
she's going to be fine and the hair will grow again. I am
so pleased you like her. I won't be able to ride her for a
little while, but when I'm well again, I'd like to bring
Princess up and show you what she can do.'
'Aw, well, we'll see,' he stuttered. Jeez, was there
no getting away from her any more? Couldn't they
leave now?
'David is just a little bit shy with girls,' Anne
explained. 'What he didn't say was that he would like
you to come up for his birthday,' she said sweetly.
David groaned inwardly.
'Anne, how sweet of you,' Jane Campbell said
quickly. 'Catriona, you'd like that, wouldn't you? And
you should be back to your old self by then.'
'We mustn't tire Catriona, David,' Anne said.
'Your mother will let me know when you are back
home and perhaps we could come and see you there.'
'Will you, David?' Catriona asked.
'Mmm,' David muttered. He was furious with his
mother for suggesting another visit.
'Goodbye, Cat,' he said as he made for the door,
and as soon as he was outside he muttered, 'Thank
goodness that's over.'
'Really, David, you do go on. It wasn't so hard,
was it?'
'Mum, I hate talking to girls. You had to go and
bring me in here when Susan Cartwright broke her
leg. She and Cat have got all their snobby friends.
They don't need me.'

'You will have to learn that you can't always do
exactly as you like. Now, would you like me to buy
you something special? What about some of that
three-coloured ice-cream?' Anne asked as they got in
the car.
'It's okay, thanks. Can't we just go back home?
I want to talk to Dad about letting me have a bigger
horse. Jess is so much better than my pony.'
Anne threw up her hands in disgust. 'You come off
one horse yesterday and want another today. I give up.'
'Does that mean I can have a bigger horse?'
'It seems that nothing I say makes any difference.
By the way, I understand that Mr Campbell is going
to recommend you for a bravery award.'
'Why would he do that?'
'For what you did on the mountain, silly boy.'
'Why should I get a bravery award for that? Dad
was the one who went down the rope and got Cat up.'
'He had two other men up top. You were on your
own, and what you did must have meant a great deal
to Catriona at the time. You kept her company until
help arrived. I am going to ride up and look at that slide so I can see for myself how foolhardy you were.'
'Well, it's over and done with now. There's more
to think about than that - like Dawn's pups, for
instance. Dad says I can have the male pick of the
litter. I'll have to study those pups very carefully.'
Anne sighed. 'There are more things to life than
dogs and horses.'
'Not for me, Mum. Dad says you can spend your

whole life and never know all there is to know about
those animals, so it looks like I'll be busy for a long
time.'
Anne sighed again as she ruffled his hair. 'It looks
like you will.'






























Chapter Nine





The long Christmas holidays were over and David
had gone back to school. This would be the last year
he would spend at the little school at the foot of the
range. The following year he would travel by bus each
day to the high school in town. David had recovered
from his injury after a couple of weeks of enforced
idleness. The most his mother had allowed him to do
was crack a whip using his good arm.
During this time Dawn had her pups. There were
six in all, three of each sex. They were now over six
weeks of age and had reached the mischievous stage.
Two of the male pups were black and tan and one
was red and tan. Of the females, two were blue and
tan and one was black and tan.
The pups had grown a lot in the last week. David
had not had much time to watch them after school
because he had been so busy with his other chores.
He fed the chooks, fed and watered the horses and

then let the dogs off for a run before feeding them,
too. Andy seldom arrived home before dark and he
was often away for days at a time, either shearing or
breaking in horses. His mother milked a cow in the
morning so the calf had to be penned each night. His
mother also spent days, sometimes weeks, back teaching,
which augmented the family income.
It was Saturday morning and David had wolfed
down his breakfast so he could get out to the pups
as fast as he could. Also, today was his eleventh birthday
and his worst fears were about to be realised:
Catriona would be arriving for lunch. He could not
understand why his mother seemed so pleased about
Catriona's visit. She was humming and singing a
treat.
The truth was that Anne loved her son to distraction,
but at times it was a relief for her to turn
to another female for companionship; and, lately,
Catriona had come to be like a daughter to her.
David's concern was not just about the few tedious
hours he would have to spend with her at lunchtime,
but also about the strong possibility that the Campbells
would reciprocate the invitation and that he
would have to attend Catriona's birthday party. He
had seen some of Catriona's girlfriends at the show
and they were a silly, giggly lot who chattered on
about nothing. He simply had to think up some
excuse to get out of that.
The day was very special in more ways than one.
Not only was it David's birthday, but his father, who

usually had only the weekends to do stock work,
would be close by. On days such as this, Andy
repaired things about the house and sheds and even,
to David's greatest delight, worked on a whip. Andy
MacLeod had quite a name as a whip-maker, so it
was no wonder young David had learned to crack one
almost as soon as he could walk.
David sat down on a big block of box timber
beside the wood heap and watched the pups. He
was particularly taken with the bigger black and tan
male. He was the first pup to negotiate the woodpile
and now sat on the uppermost block of wood with
his head cocked to one side as he watched the other
pups. He had an old-dog way about him, or, as his
father would say, he had 'dogality' written all over
him.
David knew he had to make his choice soon
because two male pups had already been booked. He
knew his father intended to keep one of the bitches,
probably the blue and tan with the peculiar rosette of
hair on her forehead.
Time flew by as he watched the pups. He was
mostly looking for early evidence of 'eye'. One pup
would crouch down behind a block of wood and 'eye'
off a mate. Some pups would show this eye at a very
early age. It didn't necessarily mean they were the best
pups, but it did often indicate that they were more
focused than those which wandered aimlessly about.
David was so engrossed in watching their antics that
he didn't even notice his father approach.

'Made your selection yet, Davie?'
'I like the big black and tan male best. He reminds
me of Glen but he's even bigger than Glen was at the
same age. What do you think, Dad?'
'It's a gamble, but I prefer the biggest pups. I
thought I would keep that blue and tan bitch,' he
said, pointing to the pup David had suspected he
would choose.
David nodded sagely. He could have bet his last
year's pocketknife that his father would have chosen
her. He was getting to know the way Andy's mind
worked.
Father and son sat side by side on blocks of wood,
watching the pups contentedly. Presently, the pup
David had had his eye on climbed down off the top
of the woodheap and began 'eyeing' the other pups.
He ran from one block of wood to the other and
crouched down like an old dog.
'That pup has got something,' Andrew said at last.
'Yes, he's the one I want. Can I have him today
so he's a real birthday present?'
'Okay. We'll let the others go,' Andrew said as he
noticed the sudden arrival of Angus Campbell's red
truck. It made its way down the track and stopped
just near the horse yard.
'Now, what on earth is Angus doing up here?'
They went down to the horse yard and were surprised
to find that there was a very large Hereford
bull on the back of the truck.
"Day, Angus, what brings you up here?' Andrew

asked. He thought Angus might have been delivering
Catriona on his way to taking the bull to a client, but
Catriona was not with her father and was not due to
arrive until midday. 'And what's that you've got
there?'
'G'day, Andy, David, it's a bull.'
'I can see it's a bull, Angus. What are you doing
with it?'
'I thought you might be able to use it. I've been
using it myself, but he's past the age I sell working
bulls. Got a fair bit of Vern blood in him. I know
you're trying to get a decent little herd together and,
begging your pardon, that bull you're using leaves a
lot to be desired.'
'Now, look here, Angus, if you're doing this
because of what happened with Catriona, forget it.
I told you that any man worth his salt would have
done just the same as we did. I can't afford a bull as
good as that fellow, and until I can, I'll get by with
what I can afford.'
'I'm not asking you to buy the bull. You can use
him for a couple of seasons to upgrade your females
and then put another good bull over them,' Angus
suggested in a conciliatory tone. He was aware how
thin-skinned Andy was when it came to money
matters.
'I don't like taking things for nothing. It's very
decent of you to offer me the bull, but I like to pay
my way.'
'Don't be so stiff-necked, Andy. If you want to

pay for the bull, you can either help me out with
breaking in some of my horses or you can swap me
a horse or shear some of my rams. Tim seems to be
too busy to handle our horses any longer.'
'How many horses have you got to handle?'
Andrew asked.
'Six or seven. The best of the crop,' Angus
answered.
'How much is the bull worth?'
'Well, now, that's hard to say. He's an old fella.'
'How much, Angus?' Andrew persisted. 'A thousand,
two thousand, three?'
'Somewhere about that,' Angus said airily. The
bull was actually worth three times that amount, but
he wasn't going to tell Andy that.
'I'd still be in your debt. I don't like being in debt.
The bank was bad enough.'
'If you would take a horse on and draft it, maybe
win a Maiden draft, that would suit me,' Angus suggested.
It was what he'd had in mind all along. He
had been trying to build a name for his horses for
years, but not being the horseman Andrew was - or
that a lot of other stockmen were - he hadn't
achieved the status he'd been looking for.
Andrew looked up at the bull and considered the
proposition with his usual care. There was no doubt
that the bull was a clinker, worth a lot of money.
Angus only ever used the best bulls in his stud herd.
The Inverlochy herd was by far the best in the district.
It was full of Colly Creek and South Boorook

blood with some extra Vern blood tossed in. On
the one hand, Angus had made a very neighbourly
gesture and Andy would look small if he refused it.
On the other hand, he did not want to owe Angus
any favours.
David listened to this interplay between his father
and Angus Campbell with great interest. He was well
aware how fiercely independent Andy was, and for
one long, horrible moment he thought his father
might refuse Mr Campbell's offer of this wonderful
bull. And it was a wonderful bull: as long as a wet
week with terrific hindquarters and a great bull's
head. David could picture it standing among the cows
down on their bottom country, and he knew it would
sire great calves.
'All right, I'll accept your offer,' Andrew said. 'But
I'll work the bull out to my value. Agreed?'
'If that's what you want,' Angus said as they shook
hands on it. 'Can we take him off?'
'Back your truck up to the ramp. Will he lead?'
'Oh, yes. We taught him to lead as a calf. He's
been to the shows,' Angus said.
Andrew nodded. He thought he had seen the bull
before today and he was definitely worth more than
Angus had suggested. The only factor that pulled his
price back a bit was his age. Still, Angus must be
going soft.
They walked the bull off the truck and Andrew
put a headstall on him. Close up, the bull was even
bigger than he had appeared on the truck.

'Colly Creek would have been proud to offer this
fellow,' Andrew said. It was a compliment that he knew
would impress Angus. Colly Creek had been a famous
name in the Hereford world before its dispersal.
Angus nodded. 'He's a fair bull and we've got
some good young stock by him. He should do the
job for you. Now I must be going, but I'll be back
with Catriona in a little while.'
'Wow,' David exclaimed excitedly, as soon as
Angus had driven away. 'Can I tell Mum?'
'Tell away.'
David shot off to give his mother the news about
the bull and to urge her to inspect it immediately.
'My God, it's a monster,' she exclaimed when she
laid eyes on the animal at the end of the halter.
'He's been to the shows, that's why he's so quiet,'
David explained. He walked up to the bull's head and
began scratching the short white hair in the dish of
his head.
'David, get away from him,' Anne yelled. 'If that
bull wanted to, it could toss you to kingdom come.
Those horns would go right through you.'
'He's as quiet as a lamb, Mum,' David said as he
went on scratching the great head.
'Famous last words, David. You are not to go near
it. You can't trust bulls. Isn't that right, Andy?'
'Mum's right, Davie. Never take a bull or a stallion
for granted and never turn your back on them. This
fellow is too big to meddle with. Quiet he may be,
but a bull can do anything.'

'Andy, you surely didn't buy him?' Anne asked.
'No, Anne. It seems that Angus feels he is in debt
to us, so I told him I would work off the bull's cost.
He makes our old bull look very ordinary.'
After a somewhat closer, albeit cautious, examination
of the bull, Anne retreated to the house with
a reminder that smoko would be ready in a few
minutes. 'You should have asked Angus to stay for
it,' she said.
'He was in a hurry, Anne. He had something else
to do before he brings Catriona back.'
There was a very good reason why Angus had had
to leave in a hurry, and that reason was contained in
a large cardboard box which had been delivered from
Tamworth that morning.
This box was on the back seat of Angus's car when
he delivered Catriona to High Peaks just after
midday. Angus managed to carry it into the house
unseen by David and his father, who were out taking
the bull down to his new paddock. Angus left
Catriona with Anne and drove back to Inverlochy.
He was well pleased with his efforts that morning.
'I must say, you've made a remarkable recovery,
Catriona,' Anne said as she inspected her.
'I did have a little mark on my face but thankfully
it has healed up now.'
Anne never looked at Catriona without regretting
the fact that she had been unable to have a daughter.
Catriona really was an enchanting child, with her
beautiful golden curls and brown eyes. Her clothes

were always of lovely quality and seemed as if they
were made for her. That day, she was wearing a
cotton frock of tartan pattern in soft blues and her
hair was set off with a matching tartan ribbon.
'And how is your pony?'
'She's very well, thank you. Her hair has grown
again and you wouldn't know anything had happened
to her,' Catriona said.
'You must be pleased about that. David told me
she is a very nice pony.'
'I am pleased, yes. Where is David, Mrs Mac?'
'Oh, he and his father took their horses and have
gone off with the new bull. But of course you would
know about the new bull.'
'Daddy did say something about it. Will they be
long?'
'They were warned not to be, and they knew you
would be here at twelve. They'd better not be late.
How is school?'
'School is school. This is my last year at home. I'll
be going to school in Sydney next year.'
'What do you think about that?'
'I'm not too keen on the idea, but Stuart goes to
Scots and I have to go to PLC. It's expected of me,'
Catriona said.
'Oh, dear,' Anne said with reserve, holding her
tongue about what she really thought of sending children
away to boarding school.
'There isn't a suitable school in town, you see,'
Catriona added.

Anne understood why Jane Campbell might have
given her daughter this message. Although government
schools provided a good education, they did not
provide the polish that the Campbells demanded for
their children. Anne believed, however, that children
paid a price for their years away, their very important
formative years. She certainly wouldn't like to lose
David for six years. He was too much of a free spirit
to transplant into what would be a totally foreign
environment for him. There were people who said
the MacLeods were ruining their son by not making
him do other things, such as taking him to sports
practice on weekends, but Anne knew that her son
was not cast in the mould of other boys. He was
immensely gifted with animals, and one day he would
inherit High Peaks, which was his whole life. True,
she would like David to mix more with other
children, something he had always shied away from
doing. At least today was a start, with Catriona
coming to his birthday.
As if reading Anne's mind, Catriona asked, 'Why
doesn't David have other boys here for his birthday?
I have several girls over for my parties.'
'David doesn't make many friends. He gets on well
enough with most children, but there's nobody very
special. You see, Catriona, David spends most of his
time here on the property. I just can't tear him away'
'It's a wonder that he bothers with me,' Catriona
said in her curious young grown-up way.
'Well, you have a common interest of horses. And

your father is keen on sheepdogs, so that's something
else you share.'
'I see,' Catriona replied, stealing glances around
the room to see if David was on his way. 'Why have
you set the table for five people, Mrs Mac? Shouldn't
there only be four places?'
'My younger sister is due here any minute. She
was leaving Sydney early this morning. Katie always
tries to be here for David's birthdays as he is her only
nephew and she is very fond of him.'
'Have I met her before?'
'Not for some years, since the very bad bushfire
that went through part of Inverlochy. You were all
evacuated to the school. I think it may have been the
year you began school. You may not remember Katie,
but you probably remember the fire.'
'My word I do. Thankfully, the wind changed or
we would have lost the house. But no, I don't remember
your sister. Is she like you?'
'Katie is a little like me, although more of a
tomboy. She has been all over the world and done
some extraordinary things, like hiking through the
Himalayas and climbing the Swiss Alps. When she
comes to High Peaks she spends more time outdoors
with Andy and David than she does inside with me.'
'Is she a teacher like you were?' Catriona asked.
'No, she's a theatre sister at one of Sydney's biggest
hospitals. And a very good one, too.'
'Is she married?'
'No, she has never married. She came very close

to it once, but the young man she liked married
someone else. She has never found the right person
since.'
One thing Catriona liked about David's mother
was the fact that she treated her more like a grownup
than a little girl.
'Every couple of years Katie goes overseas to see
some new place, and every other year she comes and
stays with us.'
'What does David think of her?' Catriona asked
with real interest.
'He likes her a lot. She's such a down-to-earth
person and she doesn't make a fuss of him. They get
on famously.'
'Mummy says that David is just like Mr MacLeod,
or at least he will be when he gets older. Do you
think so too, Mrs Mac?'
'I don't know what Andy was like as a boy. His
father was in the army for five years and Andy only
had his mother to depend on. He grew up a very
quiet, self-sufficient young man. David takes after
him in a lot of ways. I've tried to show David that
there are other things in life outside High Peaks,
although so far I haven't made much headway. David
is rather keen on reading, though, whereas Andy only
reads the rural papers.'
At that moment they were interrupted by the
sound of a car approaching outside. Katie Gilmour
had arrived. She was driving a new red Falcon and
although she had wanted to announce her arrival by

blowing the horn several times, she knew better.
A few years earlier she had been given a dressing
down by Andy. He had been breaking in a young
horse and the sound of the horn nearly put the colt
over the top of the horse yard.
'Kate!' Anne screamed with delight as she flew
down the path to greet her sister.
'Anne!' Kate shrieked in reply and threw her arms
around her older sister.
'You look wonderful,' Anne said as she inspected
her.
Kate Gilmour was taller than her sister (as a child
she had often been described as gawky) but she did
not have Anne's striking looks. She was not unattractive,
except that she had a rather long nose in a
longish face. Her eyes were a shade lighter brown than
her sister's and full of mischief. They alternately
flashed and glowed. Her hair was dark and lustrous
like Anne's, and when out riding she often tied it in
a ponytail with a piece of string or baler twine.
Dressed now in yellow slacks and a cream silk blouse,
Kate looked anything but the tomboy Anne knew she
would become before the day was out.
'Come on in - lunch is ready. You always arrive
on time. I'll ring the bell for the others.'
Andy and David were cantering up the horse
paddock, having delivered the new bull to his harem.
They had inspected him with approval for a final
time. Their old bull had been cut out and turned into
another paddock for the time being. They had seen

the red vehicle arrive and, from a distance, thought
at first it was Will White's utility. Kate had driven a
green car on her last trip.
David's face lit up when he saw his aunt and his
smile made Kate feel warm inside. If there was any
person outside her parents and Anne for whom she
had a special love, it was her nephew.
'Hello, Andy. Hi, David,' she called to them as
they rode into the house yard. Both riders dismounted
with the ease born of long practice.
Kate envied them their closeness with horses. She
wanted to get on a horse right now and canter away
down to the creek and then up into the hills.
'My, you have grown so much since I saw you
last,' Kate said as she hugged David and kissed him. 'And I've been hearing some wonderful things about
you ... rescuing a damsel in distress and saving her
pony.'
'Aw, Dad did the rescuing,' David muttered,
'I just rode her pony.'
'Yes, I heard all about that, too. I mean to go and
look at that spot. How are you, Andy?' She gave her
brother-in-law a kiss on his cheek and a pat on the
arm. She admired Andrew for what he had done on High Peaks. He had worked himself into the ground
and it showed in the lines of his face and the grey
streaks in his hair.
'Not too bad, Kate. The season is fair and prices
are reasonable. Looks like the Vietnam business has
fizzled out. Don't see why we had to be involved

anyway. It's their business, not ours. It didn't help
our wool prices. Not like the Korean show. Got
yourself a new Ford?'
'Yes, I thought I would invest in a new car, and
maybe do a few longer trips around Australia.'
'Come on, you lot. Let's talk inside. We're keeping
our other guest waiting,' Anne said.
David rolled his eyes and Kate caught his gesture.
She waited until Anne had turned away and then bent
and whispered in David's ear, "Who is it, Davie?'
'Catriona Campbell,' he growled.
'So this is the girl you and Andy rescued, is it?'
'That's her. I don't know why Mum had to invite
her here for my birthday. I asked her not to.'
But when Kate got an eyeful of Catriona she had
a very good idea why Anne had invited the little girl.
Catriona was very well spoken with lovely manners,
and she was quite at ease in the presence of three
adults. She was still a little in awe of Andy, but after
that day on the mountain he had assumed an almost
god-like stature in her mind and, unlike David, he
even talked to her.
This day was turning out to be no different in that
regard. David virtually ignored her. He had more
important things to concentrate on, like doing justice
to the lunch his mother had set out, and after lunch
there would be presents. That was always exciting.
Because of the hot summer weather, Anne had
settled for a salad lunch rather than a hot meal. The
only concession to this was a dish of small potatoes

baked in their jackets, which both Andy and David
liked a lot, especially with butter and cream. There
was cold turkey, fowl and ham, and their own homegrown
tomatoes and lettuce in a special tossed salad
with Anne's own mayonnaise. This was followed by
a dessert of fruit salad and ice-cream, small slices of
cold watermelon, and nuts, and the special treat of
jellied sweets.
In the centre of the big table stood David's
birthday cake, complete with eleven candles. It was a
double-decker cake filled with jam and cream. All in
all it was a meal calculated to satisfy even David's
appetite.
Throughout the meal Anne noticed that Andy's
eyes kept flicking to the clock on the mantelpiece.
Her husband's preoccupation with the clock began to
get on her nerves, and at last she could restrain herself
no longer.
'Andy, are you in a hurry to go somewhere, somewhere
more important than your son's birthday
lunch?'
'Not at all. What makes you think that?' Andy
asked pleasantly.
'Because you can't keep your eyes off the clock.
Are you expecting someone?'
'Now, why would you ask that?'
'You can't fool me, Andy, you've got '
Anne's words were halted in mid-sentence by the
sound of a vehicle outside. She went to the front door
and looked out. 'Who do we know who owns a green

truck and a yellow horse float?' she asked.
'Wow, it's Tim Sparkes,' David yelled.
'David, we aren't in the paddock and none of us
is deaf,' Anne scolded. 'Sit where you are, please. If
Tim hasn't eaten, he can have lunch with us.'
Tim hadn't. The tall, lean Queenslander explained
that he should have arrived earlier but he had been
held up by a puncture.
'Hi, everyone. Hi, Kate,' he said. 'How are you,
young lady?' he added to Catriona. Tim had known
Catriona since she was a baby, as he had been
breaking in the Inverlochy horses for years.
'What are you doing down this way, Tim?' Anne
asked. 'We heard you were busy running the big
station with your uncle so sick.'
'I was. I am. Uncle Bob died and left the place to
me. I've been flat-out trying to round up micky bulls
and cleanskins. The place had been going backwards for
years, but Uncle was making enough money not to
worry about it. When he got crook, the place really went
downhill. I've been trying to pull it back into shape.'
'So what are you doing here?' Anne persisted.
'Delivering a horse, actually,' Tim said, giving a
wink to Andy.
'I wouldn't have thought you'd have time for that,'
Anne said. 'Now, please sit down and help yourself
to whatever you fancy, Tim. David, I can see that
you're bursting to ask questions but they can wait
until after lunch. I think that while Tim is eating we
can start giving out your presents.'

'Wow, what a day,' David said excitedly. Tim's
arrival had put a whole new perspective on things. He
was sure to stay at least a day and they would be able
to have a long yarn about his property and its horses.
His father had told him a lot about the Sparkes
horses.
The first present David opened was a roo-hide
whip made by his father. It was plaited in black and
tan leather with a six-foot thong. The whip was an
absolute work of art and fell beautifully.
'Gee, thanks, Dad. It's a beauty,' David said as he
ran his fingers down it.
'If you look after it, that whip should last you for
years,' Andy said.
'Yeah, I've got one of your father's whips and it
must be twelve years old,' Tim said. 'Could have sold
it over and over again but money wouldn't buy it.'
There was a new pair of riding boots from Anne,
who liked to give practical presents, and a wide
brimmed hat from Kate. Kate also presented him with
two books on sheepdogs that she had picked up in
Britain and put by for this day. And there were even
more surprises in store.
Anne went into her bedroom and came back with
the big box Angus Campbell had deposited earlier.
'This is a present from the Campbell family, David,'
Catriona said. 'Daddy said you more than earned it.'
David's excitement level rose several notches.
What could be in that big box? What would the
Campbells give him?

He took out his penknife and cut the adhesive tape
that bound the box together. When the flaps fell
open, he could not believe what he saw inside - a
fully mounted saddle.
He lifted it out and placed it over the arm of the
sofa. Embossed quite clearly on both saddle flaps were
the words David MacLeod Foley Special.
There was absolute silence in the room while
everyone but Catriona stared at the saddle.
'It was handmade in Tamworth,' Catriona explained.
'Daddy ordered it some time ago and it was
delivered just this morning. He says that one day people
will be ordering saddles in your name. This is the first.
It has a fifteen-inch seat so it should be big enough for
a few years to come.'
The enormity of the gift left even David speechless.
His very own brand of saddle. It was too much,
and all for riding a pony down Yellow Rock.
'It's too much, Cat, far too much. I don't deserve
a present like this,' David said with surprising
maturity.
'Well, Daddy says you do and so do I. My pony is
worth a lot more than that saddle.'
David shook his head. 'It is too much,' he repeated.
The adults inspected the saddle with clinical
thoroughness.
'It's a lovely job,' Andrew said at last.
'A real beaut,' Tim agreed. 'Seems to me you need
a bigger horse than your pony to do this saddle
justice.'

'David would be the first to agree with you,' Anne
said. 'He drives us mad about it.'
'Hmmm,' Tim sat back in his chair. 'After that
great lunch I'd better go and walk about for a while.
Andy, do ya reckon I could let the mare off for a bit?'
'Not at all. She won't come to any harm in the horse
yard,' Andy said, smiling quickly in Kate's direction.
Outside, Tim let down the ramp, unhooked the
horse inside and led her out. She was a beautifully
put together bay with a white strip on her nose and
two white stockings on her hind legs. David climbed
up on a post of the horse yard and inspected the new
arrival. He reckoned she was a shade under fourteen
point two hands and a very impressive mare.
'What is she, Tim?' Anne asked, trying to keep her
voice under control. It was all clear to her now. Andy
had been watching the clock because his old mate was
overdue with the mare. The pair of them had hatched
up this second surprise.
'Well, now, Anne,' Tim drawled, 'she's a cross of
stock horse and quarter horse. She's a mite small for
most stockmen up our way because they like a horse
about fifteen hands or a bit taller. Our cattle go like
blazes and you need a real fast horse to catch them.
Not that this mare isn't fast. She's a good one, terrific
on her feet and lovely tempered. She's a winner in
the show ring, too.'
'Where are you taking her, Tim?' David asked.
'Where am I taking her? I'm not taking her anywhere.
I'm leaving her here,' Tim said with a grin.

Andy took hold of the mare's halter and led her
across to his son.
'Happy birthday, Davie. I reckon you're up to this
mare now.'
David nearly fell of his post. He couldn't believe
his ears. First, his very own brand of saddle, and now
his first big horse, his very own big horse. And what
a ripper.
'Do you mean it, Dad?' he asked in a kind of daze.
'Of course he means it, Davie. We worked it out
between us,' Tim said. 'I didn't bring the mare all
this way just to be looked at. Now, it seems to me
that if I was a young fellow and had just been given
my own saddle and a new horse, I'd be putting the
two together real quick. I'd be charging back to the
house for that saddle and I would have it on this mare
as quick as I could. Hell, Davie, I want to see what
you think of her.'
'Wow,' David yelled as he fell off the post and
raced back to the house for the new saddle.
Andy had a bridle on the mare when his son
returned with the saddle. Miraculously, there was now
a new blue and white saddle blanket with the letters
D.M. inscribed on it sitting on the mare's back. Andy
and Tim watched critically as David saddled the
mare. The leather was still stiff and it took a little
longer than usual. David led the mare round the yard
before pulling the girth up a notch. Then he was in
the saddle, and in heaven. A touch on the rein and
ribs and the mare spun to one side.

'Take her up the paddock, David,' Tim said. 'If
you can get her down to a real slow canter you will
find she's like a rocking horse.'
David did as he was instructed and found that the
mare was absolutely foursquare and smooth as silk.
She was like a cat on her feet and very quick to
respond to any signal. When David brought her back
to the others, there was a huge smile on his face.
'She's terrific, Tim, just terrific. Thank you.'
Tim nodded. 'Yeah, she's not bad. She'll be big
enough for you for a few years. If you put a bigger
horse over her later on, she'll breed ya good-sized
stock horses.'
'She is just fantastic, and so is the saddle,' David
said, looking up at Catriona who was now sitting on
his post.
'Thank goodness,' Anne said under her breath to
Kate. She had wondered if the enormity of the gift
of the horse would override the gift of the saddle.
'You had better whack some oil onto the saddle.
Those buckles are pretty stiff. New saddlery always
needs plenty of dressing,' Andrew said.
'I'll do it, Dad. Gee, what can I say? Thanks again,
Dad, and Tim. What a birthday.'
'I reckon you're worth it, Davie. If you don't win
a junior draft or two on that mare, I'll be very
surprised,' Tim said.
'I reckon he's just about ready to handle a junior draft,' Andy agreed.
Anne didn't know whether to feel pleased or

angry. Admittedly, Andy was a very deep fellow who
did not always confide in her. Perhaps he had decided
to keep Tim's gift of a bigger horse secret so they
didn't argue about it. She felt that there shouldn't be
any need for secrets between husband and wife. After
fourteen years of marriage Andy still kept some things
to himself, and it did rankle a little.
Just then David said something that surprised and
pleased her very much. 'Mum, when you take Cat
back to Inverlochy, I'd like to go with you so I can
thank Mr and Mrs Campbell for the saddle in
person.'
Anne nodded. 'I think that's a splendid idea. Now,
what about a cuppa, everyone? I believe I could use
one.'
'Good idea,' Andy replied. 'Leave your mare here
with a slab of hay, Davie. We'll probably put her in
the old stallion stable later on.'
Inside, Catriona informed everyone that her father
was importing a new border collie by the name of
Toss. If the dog was as good as it was supposed to
be, Angus proposed to work him in the local trial.
When Catriona said this, David had just taken a
gulp of tea and he almost choked on it. He looked
across to where his father sat and noted the gleam in
his eye. He was about to make a comment but the
tiny shake of his father's head stopped him dead.
David was quite confident that no matter how good
this Toss was - and that remained to be seen - he
would not be as good as their dogs, especially on

merino sheep. But Mr Campbell had to try and beat
them.
After he had finished his tea, David, at Anne's
whispered entreaty, took Catriona to show her the
pups. More specifically, to show her his new pup.
On his way out the door, Kate asked him what he
would do if Catriona tried to kiss him goodbye. He
blushed but said that he reckoned he could put up
with it as it was a pretty small price to pay for a
fantastic new saddle. After all, what was a kiss? It
might mean something to a girl but it didn't mean
much to him. He was more interested in whether
a pup tried to kiss him when he blew into its nose.
If a pup didn't try to kiss you, it was a safe bet
that it would have a bad nature. His father had
read that in a dog training book and it had proved
to be correct.
But when they left Catriona at Inverlochy, she
didn't try to kiss him. She merely said goodbye to
him in her well-mannered way. She was very pleased
he liked the new saddle and was happy to see how
good it looked on his new horse.
As they were driving back to High Peaks after
dropping Catriona home, David said to Anne, 'That
was a great birthday, Mum. The best ever.'
'Well, there's still a hot dinner to come tonight,'
she said. 'And I know you'll want to sit up and listen
to Tim tell his yarns.'
'You bet,' he agreed.
'You can stay up an hour later but not one minute

longer. And by the way, I think you behaved quite
well with Catriona. I know you're not mad on girls
right now, but I'm sure you'll change your mind in
a few years. Catriona is a lovely child. If boarding
school doesn't turn her into a snob, she might grow
up into a very nice young woman.'
'Dad says that she will marry some rich grazier.'
'You do have some interesting discussions with
your father, don't you? Let me tell you that I predict
nobody will tell Catriona who she is to marry. Your
father might be good at a lot of things, but he is no
authority on ladies.'
'He sure knew the right one to marry, though,'
David said calmly.
This remark so stunned Anne that she was left
speechless all the way back to High Peaks.
But nothing could keep David quiet. 'Mum, you
know very well that the Campbells are snobs. They
never invite you and Dad to their parties. When
Catriona is older, she won't even want to look at me.'
'What a profound young man you are today,'
Anne said.
David sighed. 'I listen to what other people say.
And I am sure that once Catriona goes away to school
next year and mixes with all the other snob girls and
their brothers she will be a completely different
person. There are a lot more important things to
think about than her, like winning sheepdog trials
and campdrafts, and taking a team of kelpies to the
National.'

'We'll see, young man. At least you behaved well
today. I was very proud of you.'
'How long will Aunty Kate be staying, Mum?' he
asked. Kate's visit was of very real interest to him.
Last time she came, he and his father had begun to
initiate her into flag and barrel races. She did
everything with such wonderful enthusiasm that it
was sheer fun to be with her. David reckoned that he
now had a horse who would be competitive anywhere,
but it wasn't the same racing on your own. Kate's
visit promised a lot.
'A couple of weeks. I thought she would be a help
while we're crutching. You know how Kate loves to
help.'
Andrew MacLeod did not employ crutchers, but
did the lot over about a week and half. David and
Anne would muster the sheep and bring them to the
shed. One of them would work inside the shed while
the other would take the sheep away. When Kate
stayed with them, she often shared their jobs. David
much preferred the outside work because crutching
meant mustering - and that meant dog work. Dog
work was his major passion in life. For this upcoming
crutching, mustering also meant a lot of
riding on his new horse.
David had had the perfect day. Sure, his mum had
gone on a bit, but she was a great mum really. At
times, like when his mother went riding with him,
she was as good as any mate. The best of all times
was when they had a picnic or barbecue at the creek

on summer evenings and his mother took her guitar
and sang. Sometimes she played and sang on the front
verandah.
David did not speak again for the remainder of
the short trip back to High Peaks. There were several
important matters to consider, not the least of which
was a name for his new horse. It needed to be a short,
clear name because he taught his horses to come to
name. There had once been a great drafting mare
called Gleam, which his father told him had been one
of the best he had seen. David was half inclined to
call his mare by that same name.
'You've gone very quiet, David,' Anne said as they
came into sight of the homestead.
'Just thinking about a name for my new horse.
I think I'll call her Gift. What do you think, Mum?'
'I think that would be very appropriate,' Anne
agreed.
'And I'll name my new pup Lad.'














Chapter Ten





Now that he had a new pup and a new horse, a
proper-sized horse, David was happier than he had
ever been. School days seemed to drag intolerably
because he yearned to be home with Gift and Lad.
His father had promised that he could begin in junior
drafts, so there was cattle work in plenty to get Gift
ready. Because she had done a fair bit of cattle work
after Tim Sparkes broke her in, Gift was well on her
way to becoming a top drafter, but she wasn't there
yet. He would need to work with his father in the
big cattle yard where they drafted up sale cattle. There
he could gauge Gift's strength against cattle and see
how fast she was when a beast was lifted from the
camp.
David also had the urgent need to find some
excuse not to attend Catriona's birthday party. He
knew he would have to go unless he had a foolproof
excuse, so he went to his father with the problem.

Andrew had the choice of attending two campdrafts
that weekend, so he decided they would nominate
for the event that included a junior draft.
Fortuitously, this was the date of Catriona's party.
The plan was that, when invited, David would be able
to tell his mother honestly that his father had entered
him for his first draft. Anne would have to get on the
phone to Jane and explain why her son couldn't
attend. David's strategy worked this time, although
Anne was furious because she rightly guessed that
Andy and David had colluded. She expected the
Campbells to be miffed about David's late withdrawal,
and though Jane seemed a bit offhand about
it, Angus displayed genuine interest in David's entree
into campdrafting. There were not many eleven-year
old boys good enough to compete in drafts.
Kate extended her stay by a week so she could be
on hand for the last of the crutching. She wore a pair
of faded blue jeans patched on both knees and a
man's checked shirt, and with her grey, wide
brimmed hat she looked a real ringer. On Saturday
nights she and David went eel-bashing. Kate had discovered
a new recipe for cooking eels and wanted to
try it out. Despite her long experience with surgical
instruments, she could not match David's skill with
the pieces of flat iron they used to whack the eels.
But once they were in the sugar bag, Kate could skin
them quick sticks.
In the shearing shed, Kate swept the board of
crutchings, and if David was not present to pen up,

she did that, too. There was little to do beyond
opening the gates, because old Ben knew the shed
routine so well he could have done the job on his
own, had he been able to open the gates. He would
go to the back of a pen of sheep and then climb over
their backs to get the leaders moving. The pens filled
once more, Ben would retire to a spot under the wool
table where he could watch his boss crutch and wig
the sheep.
The MacLeods ran over 4000 sheep, of which
there were about 1000 ewes. The ewes were run
with the Herefords on the richer bottom country,
while the wethers were run exclusively in the hills.
They also had about 100 Hereford cows. Andrew
had borrowed money from a local agent to buy
most of these, and had then gone away and shorn
extra sheep to earn the money to pay for them. He
was supposed to sell what he bred from them
through the agent who loaned him the money. Now
the cows were paid for and beginning to show a
return on his investment.
Andrew said it was important not to have all his
eggs in one basket. In their country, only cattle could
be considered an alternative to sheep. Andrew did
have plans to purchase a few more good mares and
also invest in a top-class stallion, but those plans
would have to wait until he had the cash in hand.
Currently they sent half a dozen mares away to good
stock horse stallions, and broke in and handled the
young horses. Andrew's horses, like his dogs, were

always in great demand because he bred from only a
few high-class animals.
During her stay at High Peaks, Kate insisted on
being taken up to the infamous ledge on Yellow Rock.
Andy was high up in the hills ringing green timber
and would not be home before dark, so Anne, Kate
and David decided to make a day of it. They took
sandwiches and a billy for a lunch in the hills.
At the bottom of the mountain Kate looked
towards David and said, 'Righto, young man, you
lead the way,' and turned her horse towards the
narrow track up Yellow Rock.
'Okay,' he replied. 'There's a whopper carpet
snake that lives in a cave up near where Cat went
over, and your horse might spook. A horse can smell
a snake a fair way off. We'll get off this side of the
ledge and leave the horses there.'
'Lead on, Macduff,' Kate said, winking at Anne.
There was no sign of the snake this day, so they
tied the three horses to trees and saplings and from
there they made their way on foot to the narrow ledge
above the rubble slide. Kate got down on her hands
and knees and peered over the edge. 'No wonder you
couldn't get the pony up this way. And is that the
slide where you jumped her down?'
'That's it.'
Kate stood up and rolled her eyes at her sister. She
patted her nephew on his head. 'Don't ever join the
army and go to war, David.'
'Why not?'

'Because you're the sort of boy who would run at
a machine gun or try some other ridiculous feat and
be awarded the Victoria Cross for it. Whew, this place
makes me feel funny. You don't mean you actually
ride up this track?'
'Oh, yes. I haven't ridden Gift up this far before,
but my ponies never had any trouble. Sometimes
there are wethers right on top.'
'Since we've come this far, why don't we walk up
the rest of the way?' Anne suggested. 'It's about the
only spot on High Peaks you haven't seen, Kate.
There is the most marvellous view from up there.'
'If you're game, I am,' Kate said and clapped David
on his back. 'Up you go, captain.'
David grinned. He led off up the mountain with
the others labouring behind him. When at last they
stood at the very top of the mountain, Kate drew in
a deep breath and then exhaled.
'Oh, this air. You could eat it. What a view. Anne,
why have you never brought me up here before?'
'Perhaps because the ride is so dangerous. I always
steer clear of it. Also, it has some rather special memories.
Andy proposed to me up here.'
'What a perfectly wonderful place for it,' Kate said.
'Sheep come up here because they think they're
safe,' David said. 'Some sheep never leave these high
places. They drink water from rock pools and springs
and they don't mix with other sheep. As soon as they
see a horse or dog, they bolt for the roughest place
they can find. It takes a really good dog to get them

down and can take a week to get every last one. Dad
said that when he started mustering up here it was
common to find sheep with three or four years'
growth of wool. Sheep like high places more than flat
places. They always head for the higher places at
night,' David explained.
'Thank you, professor,' Kate said. 'I can assure you
that I won't be coming up here at night.'
Anne pointed out several landmarks. Far below
them they could follow the course of Half Moon
Creek as it snaked its way towards Inverlochy and
then on towards the Cassilis Road. In the other direction
they could see the township of Willow Tree.
'Once upon a time the tops of these ranges and
the fall of the water used to be the boundary lines for
the first big stations,' David recited, memorising word
for word the story that had been passed down from
generation to generation of MacLeods.
'Didn't Grandfather MacLeod come to grief on
this mountain?' Kate asked suddenly.
Anne nodded. 'Yes. Andy found him, but unfortunately
not in time.'
'I can see now why the Campbells were so appreciative
of what you did, David. It was a miracle that
Catriona landed where she did.'
'Mum told her not to come up here and she
should have had enough sense not to attempt it. It
was her own fault. She was trying to show off
'Ah, well, I can understand that. She had a lovely
new pony and she fancies herself as a rider, pony club

champion and all that. She wanted to impress you.'
'She did not,' David said gruffly. He wished
people wouldn't keep harking back to Cat and that
day on the mountain.
They stood for several minutes and tried to absorb
the vast panorama exposed from the peak of Yellow
Rock. Although a fairly warm day on the lower
country, it was deliciously, refreshingly cool on the
peak. A few white clouds in the intensely blue sky
cast shadows across the side of the mountain. Far
above them, floating in the thermals, was a wedge
tailed eagle.
'There's an eagle's nest in the big old tree on the
next hill,' David said and pointed. 'You can't see it
from here because it's on the other side of the hill.
Sshh, look down below us. There.' He pointed to a
patch of scrub and rock on the opposite side of the
mountain. Kate followed his finger and picked up two
wallabies squatting on a ledge of rock. 'Plenty of them
up here,' David informed her. 'Also some roos and
wombats. You need to be careful of wombat holes. If
a horse puts its foot in one, it can do itself a lot of
damage, maybe break a leg. Horses bred and worked
here look for that sort of thing.'
Kate smiled inwardly. David was a real chip off
the old block. He had ridden at his father's knee since
he was two years of age and he had as much bush
lore and wisdom at his disposal as most people collected
in a lifetime.
Sated of the view, they made their way back down

the crest, collected their horses and rode to the creek.
It was lined with she-oaks, and when the wind blew,
the oaks sighed and moaned. The sound emanated in
the hills and traversed the length of the creek almost
to Merriwa. Andy said it was because the creek was
in a kind of funnel.
'Dad says that when you hear the she-oaks sighing,
it's a sure sign there will be rain to follow,' David
told his aunt.
'Is that right?'
'Almost never fails,' he said.
David would have preferred to stay out longer and
have afternoon smoko beside the creek but they had
finished off all the tucker at lunchtime so they rode
back to the homestead and had smoko there.
Kate always helped David collect the cow and calf
and feed the horses. She would then leave him and
go to help Anne prepare the evening meal. David
would let all the dogs off and take them down the
paddock for a run before feeding them. When he had
the time, Andrew would kill sheep to feed his dogs.
There were always several bags of dog biscuits in the
feed shed as these were a great standby. In winter mostly
on weekends when there was more time - they
boiled up meat and vegetables and made a broth to
pour over the biscuits. The pups were given milk two
or three times a day, depending on their age.
There was only one hiccup to mark the perfection
of this period for David. One morning soon after
Kate arrived, Anne announced that, as Kate was with

them, it would be a good opportunity to teach David
to dance.
David went hot and cold. Dance! Did he hear his
mother say dance ?
'You will be going to parties, David, and you must
know how to dance. Later, there will be balls. If you
learn to dance now, with us, you won't have to learn
later on. Kate and I will dance and you can watch.
Then, while one of us plays, the other will partner you.'
'Gee, Mum, do I have to? I don't want to dance,
now or ever.'
'Nonsense. Even your father knows how to dance.
That was how we met. If he hadn't been able to
dance, you wouldn't be here.'
David had no reply.
'You should be a very good dancer,' Kate chipped
in. 'You have natural agility. Look at the way you get
on and off a horse.'
David could see that it was one of those times
when his mother's mind was made up. She insisted
that he spend at least half an hour two or three times
a week while she and Kate instilled into him the technique
required for several dance steps. Both Anne and
Kate were accomplished pianists and dancers so the
lessons he received were both thorough and professional.
David appealed to his father for relief but for
once received no help. Andrew approved completely
of the dancing lessons. They would have been a real
pain except that his aunt made a fun thing out of just
about everything.

On top of the dance lessons, David had yet
another unpleasant surprise in store. He knew that
his father had been plaiting a bridle. It was a beautiful
job, worth a lot of money, and he imagined that his
father could only be making it for him. His face fell
when he was informed that the bridle was to be the
MacLeods' present for Catriona's eleventh birthday.
As Anne pointed out, 'If you aren't going, the least
we can do is send a worthwhile present. It would
look very paltry of us not to do so after the
Campbells' gift of your lovely saddle. Furthermore,
you are going to deliver the bridle yourself the day
before the party.'
David took it in good part because anything at all
was better than having to attend the party with a lot
of silly, chattering girls. The thought of it made him
shudder. While they were carrying on in their idle,
stupid fashion, he would be at the campdraft - and
this time he would be competing.
The day before Kate was due to return to Sydney
she sat with David under the big pepperina tree in
the back yard and watched him as he handled his
new pup. He had been training the pup by attaching
a long piece of cord to its collar and every now and
then he would call the pup to him as he pulled on
the cord. By the last week of her stay, he had the little
fellow coming to him quite quickly and had even
begun teaching him to sit. Lad was only a baby but
he seemed to grasp what was required of him very
quickly.

During the previous weeks, Kate had ridden mostly
with David - over nearly all of High Peaks
and had come to admire her small nephew's wonderful
horsemanship and stock sense. She had watched
him with her heart in her mouth as he had practised
drafting Hereford steers both in the open and in the
cattle yard. She reckoned that if God happened to
speak to her out of the clouds above High Peaks and
offer to grant her one wish, she would ask for a son
in David's mould. She had wanted to be truly loved
by a man and to have children, but this had not happened.
David was the closest thing she had to her
own child. It was not that he was a perfect child far
from it. He was at times headstrong, impulsive
and very intolerant of people outside his sphere of
interests, and the interests he did have were, at that
stage, all associated with livestock. Andy was his role
model and instructor and David was his willing
disciple.
'What do you hope to achieve with your dogs,
David?' Kate asked at last.
David looked at his aunt but did not answer for
a little while. He was used to people slinging off at
him, even making fun of his interest in sheepdogs,
and although he knew that his aunt was not that sort
of person, he still had doubts about admitting his
innermost thoughts to her.
'I want to breed and work the best kelpies in
Australia and I want to win the National Trials with
one of them,' he said at last.

'The National Trials. Are they the biggest?' she
asked.
'Yes. The biggest and the most important. Only
one kelpie has ever won the National. His name was
Johnny, and he won five of them. Dad says he had a
lot of collie in him, but he was always called a kelpie
because he looked like one and worked like one. Dad
says he was a freaky dog and his handler was a genius.
No other kelpie has won at Canberra since Johnny's
last win in 1952. Two kelpies dead-heated for second
in 1953. They lost by only one point. An old blue
kelpie probably should have won that year and some
say would have won if they had finished working
the final that afternoon. Instead, they ran two next
morning when the weather and sheep were miles
better.'
'Why is winning the National so important to
you?' Kate asked.
'It's like winning the big campdraft at Warwick.
It would be the best thing a fella's dogs could do,' he
said simply. 'Also, it would be the best present I could
give Dad for all the years he's tried to keep the dogs
so good. Dad was never able to take his dogs away
to places like the National because he couldn't afford
the break. I'd like to win the National for him.'
'What did people think when you won the local
trial? They couldn't have been very happy about being
beaten by a ten-year-old boy.'
'I think they were pretty pleased for me. Sheepdog
people are mostly fairly decent. All but one came up

and shook hands with me. Even Mr Campbell said I
did very well, and he'd had a dog in the trial. There
was a fourteen-year-old girl working at the same trial
and she came fourth.'
'Four years older than you. Four years is a fair
difference in age,' Kate pointed out.
'She doesn't have a father like mine,' David said.
'That made the difference. And she didn't have a dog
as good as Glen.'
'So now you have to try and produce another dog
like Glen. Is Lad a son of his?'
He nodded. 'Breeding sheepdogs is all about trying
to produce better dogs,' he said very patiently. 'If you
lose a good dog you just have to forget about that
and get on with the job of trying to produce another
good one.'
'Which is what you are doing with Lad.'
'Yep. If not with Lad, some other dog or bitch.
The main thing is to know what you're looking for
and then be able to handle a dog when you have it.'
My God, he's like an old man, Kate thought.
Surely there isn't another boy like him in the whole
country. She stretched her legs towards the sun. She
had put on a pair of shorts so she could get a suntan
on her legs before she went back to Sydney.
'When will you know if Lad is good enough to go on with for trials?' she asked.
David considered the question and tried to work
out how he could explain. Some dogs matured very
early while others did not come really good until they

were three to four years old. It was all a matter of
temperament and breeding.
'I'll have a very good idea what Lad has in him by
this time next year. He won't be ready by then but
we'll know if he has the things in him that we want
in a dog. Some dogs can't be rushed along. Dad says
a lot of people spoil kelpies by trying to push them
into trials too soon. He says the great Scottish
handlers don't make that mistake. They let a dog
mature. There was a Scottish trainer by the name of
James Wilson who won nine international trials and
some of his dogs were four years old when he brought
them to a trial. They were real mature dogs. A lot of
good young dogs are ruined because people won't let
them mature.'
David spoke in the quiet, assured manner of a
middle-aged man, and Kate had no doubt that every
word he said made good sense. She could not help
but feel that at some stage down the track her nephew
would achieve his ambition. He had the ability, and
he would move towards achieving his goal just as
surely as the water in Half Moon Creek eventually
merged with the river that carried the water on to the
ocean.
'I hope you achieve your ambition before you get
tangled up with girls,' she said. 'You're going to be a
very handsome young man.'
'Girls.' David spoke the word with utter scorn.
'I won't be going near any girls.'
'David, just about every boy your age says the

same thing. They nearly all change their tune. It's
called growing up.' She ruffled his hair affectionately.
'I hope you win your National Trial, David, and I'd
like to be there to see you do it.'
David picked up his pup and made his way over
to the dog yards.
Kate went and joined Anne in the house. 'That
son of yours is so serious about what he wants to do,'
she said.
'I know. It worries me, Katie. His idea of having
fun is to muster Yellow Rock or Jimmy's Mountain.
David lost interest in toys years ago. His whips are
his toys. One of the only times I've seen him laugh
was when you fell in the creek that time we went eel
bashing. He's much too serious for a boy of his age.
I don't want him old before his time, but you can't
change him. Dogs and horses are serious business
with him. Some of the other boys call him "Barky",
but he doesn't even care about that.'
'Yes, David does need to lighten up, but there is
something very special in that boy. And his confidence
is amazing. He is absolutely committed to
winning the National Trials. I'm sure there isn't
another boy in the country who has that same
ambition.'
'That's all he thinks about,' Anne sighed. 'School
is simply an impediment to his goal. He does just enough to pass everything, yet the little rascal could
do a whole lot better. His school reports all say the
same thing. You see, Kate, David knows he's going

to inherit High Peaks so he feels there's no need for
him to worry about working too hard at school.'
'I appreciate all that you're saying, but I wouldn't
worry too much. I have the feeling that David will
go a long way and make a wonderful man. I'm very
fond of him.'
'I know that in his own way David is very fond
of you too, Katie. I am glad of the time you spend
with him on your visits here to guide him through
adolescence so he does not become a recluse up here.
If anything happened to Andy and me, that is what
he would become. He loves this place and the animals
just too much. That was why I made you executrix.
I knew that you would take over here and look after
David.'
'I can see that I shall have to try and visit here
more often,' Kate said. 'Would you mind that, Anne?
Would Andy mind?'
'Please, come as as often as you like. You know
you're always welcome here.'
Kate felt a surge of affection for her sister. They
had always been fairly close, but were probably closer
now than they had ever been.
Kate left for Sydney the next day with the greatest
reluctance. She would have liked to stay forever
because she so loved High Peaks and the three people
who lived there.
In the following weeks, as Sister Kate Gilmour
scrubbed up for another operating session each
day, her thoughts invariably flew to High Peaks as

she pondered what each member of the MacLeod
family might be doing. If only she were there with
them ...

































Chapter Eleven





Catriona was very disappointed to learn that David
MacLeod would not be coming to her birthday party.
The tale of his feat on Yellow Rock had been magnified
in the telling so that it had become almost
legendary, like The Man from Snowy River. There was
doubt about whether the Snowy River story had ever
actually happened, but there was no such doubt about
what David had done. The local newspaper had
written up the story on its front page with a big
picture of David included. That was the third time
he had been featured in the local rag. The first was
when he was guest whip-cracker for a visiting 'Wild
West' show; the second, after he had won the Novice
event at the local sheepdog trials. So it would have
been a feather in Catriona's cap to have him attend
her party. She had told Susan Cartwright and some
of her other girlfriends that he would be attending.
When Catriona asked David why he wasn't

coming, he had passed it off very casually by saying
that his father had entered him for his first junior
campdraft on that very day, and that he could not
possibly disappoint him by pulling out. He did say
that he would be coming to see her the day before
the party as he had a present for her. This pleased
Catriona a little, but did not make up for David
missing the party itself.
David did not win the junior draft, although he
did run a very creditable second. He was disappointed
with the result, and it was small consolation to him
that the boy who won was several years his senior.
Andy told him after the event that no boy of his age
could possibly know all there was to know about
cattle and drafting, but David, with his innate stockmanship,
realised quite clearly where he had lost the
points that relegated him to second place.
Andy was delighted with his son's performance.
David was by far the youngest competitor and he had
only come two points below the winning score. In
Andy's book that was a great first-up performance.
There were no sheepdog trials for David that year
because Lad was too young for competition work.
The MacLeods had heard that Angus Campbell's
imported border collie, Toss, had come out of quarantine
and was due to enter the next local trial.
Shortly after Toss arrived at Inverlochy, Andrew
received a phone call from Angus. 'I'm wondering if
I could bring my new dog up for you to have a look
at, Andy. I'd value your opinion of him.'

'Okay, Angus. Make it a Sunday, if you don't
mind. Let me know beforehand and I'll have some
sheep ready for you.'
Andrew put the phone down with a thoughtful
look on his face. 'That was Angus,' he said to Anne.
'He wants to bring his dog up here for me to look
at. It sounds like he has some doubts about him.'
'You may well be right,' Anne agreed. 'I happen
to know that Angus has great respect for your judgement
where dogs and horses are concerned.'
'Ah, well, I suppose we must be thankful for small
mercies. My whole outlook on life would be shattered
if Angus Campbell considered me good for nothing.'
Anne smiled at his sarcasm. 'Jane has also told me
that Angus considers David to be the best horseman
for his age he has ever seen.'
'Does he now? Things are looking better and
better.'
'Don't be cynical, Andy. Angus can't help the way
he is. Deep down he is quite a good man. You know
he does a lot for the district.'
'He can afford to. It's easy to be benevolent when
you're in his position.'
Anne sighed. She had tried very hard to cultivate
a harmonious relationship with Angus and Jane, yet
feelings between them were strange. Angus would not
invite them to social functions but he had no compunction
in calling on Andy for advice about his animals.
'David will be interested to see this imported dog,'
Andy said.

And David was. He found it hard to concentrate
on his lessons for the remainder of the week, but that
was nothing new. He always found it hard to concentrate
because when he looked out of the window
he could see the high country of High Peaks looming
above the school. The splendour of that vista and the
feelings it evoked completely overshadowed maths
and English. He had read a great deal about the
working-dogs of Britain and about the wizards who
handled them, and the prospect of seeing one of these
dogs excited him greatly. He had also seen border
collies bred from imported stock but he had not yet
seen a direct importation.
David was at his father's elbow when Angus
arrived that Sunday morning. To David's dismay,
Catriona was accompanying her father. She was sure
to want to chatter on about something stupid and
spoil the whole morning. He knew for a fact that Cat
wasn't the slightest bit interested in sheepdogs, so why
did she have to tag along with her father? He looked
appealingly towards his father, who caught the gesture
and nodded.
'Catriona, I think Anne would like to see you,'
Andrew said. 'She has some idea for the school
concert.'
Catriona looked long and hard at David, whose
gaze was directed at the hill above the house where
his father had placed three lively four-tooth wethers
not much more than half an hour earlier. Years ago,
Andrew had cleared the lower part of that hill, which

was part of what they referred to as Jimmy's
Mountain, and had built a couple of trial obstacles,
a bridge and a race. It was a good paddock in which
to teach a dog to cast and not far from the house.
As Catriona disappeared into the house, Angus
jumped his new dog from the back seat of the car.
David reckoned Toss was a fairly typical collie
with a medium-length black and white coat and a fair
bit of hair on his tail. One ear stood straight up and
the other drooped.
Andrew pointed up the hill towards the sheep.
They were about 400 yards distant, which was a fair
enough cast for a flat-country dog but nothing for a
real hill-country dog. Andrew knew that any decent
border collie bred in Scotland should cast that distance
without any trouble.
Angus cast Toss out on his right and the dog swept
well out, ran up the hill and eventually came in right
behind the three wethers. Toss stopped as he was supposed
to, and the sheep turned and looked at him.
He crept slowly towards them and they turned and
bolted down the slope towards the trio of watchers.
Angus left them and took up a position beside the
race. After a little bit of trouble getting the wethers
to the front of the obstacle, Toss positioned them
a few yards out from the mouth of the race. The
wethers broke and Toss gave them too much clearance.
And no matter how many times the dog placed
them outside the race, he could not hold them there;
they always beat him round one side. This went on

for several minutes before Angus walked across to the
next obstacle, which was the bridge. Here again Toss
had great trouble holding the lively wethers. He
always seemed to be fractionally slow to anticipate
and block them. Finally, with Toss puffing and
blowing, Angus gave it away and called the dog to
him. He walked back to where Andy and David were
sitting on a log.
'Well, Andy, what do you reckon?'
Andrew hesitated before answering, because no
decent sheepdog person likes to be overly critical of
another person's dog, especially when that dog had
been imported at great cost from the old country.
'I reckon they don't have merinos in Scotland,
Angus. Toss casts well, and you would expect him to,
coming from Scotland. The problem is that he's not
used to working lively sheep. Toss is what I would
describe as a "late mover". He moves after the sheep
do. With really lively sheep, a dog needs to have good
anticipation and block movement before it happens.
I reckon that Toss has been worked on quiet, doughy
sheep that probably fought a dog more than ran from
it. You can see that he's a strong dog, but he hasn't
got the idea of being in position quickly enough. He
can't drive and hold. Not many dogs can, only the
very good ones.'
'Can I do anything about it?' Angus asked with a
frown.
'I am sorry to say that I doubt it. The dog is probably
too set now. He'll be a fair dog anywhere but

on the obstacles. If you take my advice, you won't
work him in trials. Just try him as a sire. I suggest
you mate him to a couple of lively bitches and see
how his pups shape. Will he work a mob?'
'He's not too bad,' Angus replied. 'He's better on
a small mob than a big one.'
'The dog may never have seen a big mob. I don't
like late-moving dogs, but in his favour there's a big
difference working merinos after Scotch blackface.
Toss would probably handle them quite well.'
'I made a lot of enquiries,' Angus said. 'The dog
was highly recommended.'
'That may be so, but what we've got here is a
different kettle of fish. The Brits set great store on
walk-up strength; the American handlers refer to it as
power. It's important for a dog to be strong, but when
you're working merinos, especially in this range
country, it's also very important that they don't get
away from you and head back into the rough country.
That can mean a lot of extra work. So a dog needs
real good anticipation. The same thing applies to
working lively sheep at a trial. I know that collie
handlers like to give a lot of orders but I prefer a dog
that has control of its sheep, knows what the sheep
are going to do and is in position before they move.
The great old kelpies worked like that and I have tried
to keep that trait in my dogs. You've seen my dogs
work so you know what I'm talking about.'
This was a long speech for Andy, who was known
as a man of few words.

The advice was not wasted on Angus. He knew
MacLeod better than most people. 'I see what you mean.
You've actually confirmed my own opinion. He's a nice
dog in himself, but it's a big disappointment to bring a
dog from the other side of the world, for a big outlay,
and find he isn't what you want,' Campbell said.
'That's the risk you take when you import stock
you haven't seen. Don't forget that a lot of border
collies before Toss didn't suit our conditions but
some of them sired good dogs.'
Andy knew full well that he could have sold Angus
a better dog than Toss for probably a third of what
it cost to land the dog in Australia. The thing was
that Angus would never buy a kelpie from him.
They went down the hill to the house for tea and
freshly baked scones.
Across the table from David, Catriona sat with a
look in her eyes that had been there since her accident.
Anne caught a glance of it and a small smile
passed over her lips.
'I think you ought to take a little more notice of
Catriona when she comes up here,' Anne said to her
son after Angus and Catriona had left.
'Why, Mum? I see Catriona at school every day.
She's in my class. Besides, she's a girl.'
'I should remind you that your Aunt Kate and I
were once girls. You don't have any problem getting
on with us.'
'That's different. You're not silly and giggly like
the girls at school.'

'Catriona has never struck me as being silly. I
think she's very mature,' Anne said.
'You should see her when she's with the other girls.
She's just as bad as the rest of them.'
'You must confess that she is very pretty, though.'
'So? Mum, I don't want to talk about girls any
more. I wish Mr Campbell wouldn't bring her here.'
Later, Andrew took up the subject with Anne.
'I don't think you should try and push David towards
Catriona. Not even now. The Campbells are nice
enough people, but they move in another circle to us
and I'm sure neither Angus nor Jane would wish to
see Catriona keen on David. If he did get to like
Catriona, it could cause a whole heap of trouble. Get
the idea out of your head, Anne. David will find his
own girl when the time comes, or she will find
David.'
'I don't agree with you on this occasion, Andy.
Even now you can see that Catriona has feelings for
David.'
'Rubbish. She's only a kid. She thinks he is wonderful
for saving her pony, that's all. She is going off
to school next year and she'll come back a different
girl. I say leave David be. He knows what he wants.'
For all his professed indifference to Catriona,
David did have a soft spot for the little blonde girl
from next door. The problem was that he had been
reared by a tough bushman and he had grown up in
the company of other hill-country horsemen and
bushmen, all of whom were fairly hard characters.

David realised from a very early age that it was not
the thing to be seen in the company of girls, or even
to discuss them. To gain the respect of these men, a
fella had to stay close to the things that really mattered,
like land and dogs and horses. But that did not
blind him to the fact that Catriona was by far the
prettiest girl at their school and probably in the whole
district. Susan Cartwright had lovely dark hair and
flashing eyes, but Catriona was a league above her.
And there was something to be said for having the
most beautiful girl in the district keen on you. Well,
wanting to be mates, anyway.

Somehow, fate kept bringing the pair together. In the
last month before Catriona and David were to leave
the little school at the foot of the range, Catriona had
a run-in with a boy in their class by the name of
Stanley Masters. Stanley's father was overseer of a big
property on the Cassilis side of Inverlochy. Jack
Masters was not a bad sort of fellow, except when he
drank too much, and then he became quite obnoxious. He also fancied himself with women. Stanley
was an obnoxious little boy, and David hated the
sight of him. Stanley had a dirty mind and had been
caught trying to peek on girls in the toilets. That
episode earned him six of the best, and he was lucky
not to have been expelled. However, his punishment
did not deter him.
David realised from the outset that Stanley was
different from the rest of the boys at school. He had

taken off his trousers and exposed himself to a sixth
class girl who had made some comment about the
physical differences between boys and girls. The girl
in question never reported the incident, and, much
as David disliked Stanley, he wasn't going to dob him
in.
There was only one boy who had any time for
Stanley, and that was Wade Missen. All the other
boys were more or less from farms and stations in the
area, and most of them rode horses and played cricket
and football for fun. But Stanley and Wade would sit
together and watch the girls when they played. David
had heard them discussing the girls' legs and their
budding breasts. Stanley was the stronger personality
and Wade seemed to be dominated by him.
David was in a toilet cubicle one day when he
heard Stanley and Wade come in. Stanley laughed
and said quite clearly, 'Catriona and Susan are down
under the willow tree. I'm going to ask Catriona if I
can have a look under her blouse.'
'Jeez, Stanley. Maybe you're taking a big risk.
Catriona and Susan aren't like Alice. What if they
report you?'
'I'll say she started it. If you back me up, it would
be our word against hers.'
'What about Susan?'
'I reckon she'll be jake. I've seen her and Gladys
giggling when I sit near them.'
Stanley and Wade left the toilet and David rushed
to the door to watch them. Most of the children were

sitting eating their lunches under the trees beside the
schoolhouse. At the lower end of the school grounds
there were some big kurrajong trees and a very large
willow. The willow had its roots in a small creek that
flowed into Half Moon Creek. The branches of the
willow were so long and dense that anyone sitting on
the bench under the tree could not be seen from the
school building. It was a favourite place for secret
games and discussions.
David watched Stanley and Wade walk quickly
down towards the willow tree and then disappear.
A strange feeling came over him and he felt his senses
quicken. Then a surge of anger possessed him.
Nobody, least of all a creep like Stanley Masters, was
going to insult Catriona or lay a finger on her.
The willow tree was about fifty yards down a
gentle slope from the toilets and David was behind it
in a matter of seconds. He arrived in time to hear
almost all of Stanley's opening conversation.
'.. . with you and Susan.'
'I suppose so,' Catriona answered. 'What do you
want, Stanley?'
'Before school breaks up, I just thought I would
tell you how pretty you are,' Stanley said. 'You, too,
Susan.'
'Are you after something, Stanley?' Catriona asked.
'You've got a great figure as well. Can I have a
look at it?'
'What did you say?'
'I said, "Can I have a look at your figure?" Just

undo your top buttons. Here, give me a go.'
David looked through the branches of the willow
and saw that Stanley had actually undone the top
button of Catriona's blouse and had started on the
next one. Catriona let out a strangled scream, and
when she tried to get up, Stanley pushed her back
and thrust his hand down inside her blouse. Catriona
screamed again and David waited no longer.
There would have been no argument among the
children about David MacLeod being the strongest
boy at school. His arms and shoulders had been
toughened by axe work, as he had helped his father
ring hundreds of acres of green timber. And his wrists,
arms and shoulders had been further developed by
years of practice with his whips. If this was not
enough, David had been well schooled in boxing by
Tim Sparkes. David remembered Tim's advice very
clearly: 'Davie, if you have to fight, don't mess
around. Give the fellow a hard one in the breadbasket
to soften him up. That should double him over and
then you can whack him again.'
David followed Tim's instructions to the letter. He
arrived on the scene like a miniature express train and
jerked Stanley around to face him. His first punch
doubled the boy over and his second made his nose
bleed. Wade's jaw dropped open and then, seeing his
mate in trouble, he jumped in to help. David's first
punch split Wade's lip and his second was sure to
give him a black eye. Wade was a coward at heart
and he had no wish to end up like Stanley. He

retreated through the willow and then ran as fast as
he could for the principal's office.
'Sir, David MacLeod is belting up Stanley Masters.
He hit me, too. Sir, you've got to come quick. He's
gone mad.'
Mr Carruthers guessed that Masters was probably
getting his just desserts, but he could not tolerate
fighting at school. He dropped what he was doing
and followed Wade back to the willow. There he
found David, unmarked, standing over Stanley, who
looked in rather a bad way. Blood was streaming from
the boy's nose and one eye was beginning to close.
Catriona and Susan were standing close by with white
faces.
'What on earth is going on here? David, stop that
at once. Catriona, tell me what caused this fight.'
The two children refrained from answering.
David's anger was still simmering. He looked at the
damage he had caused Stanley with no small amount
of satisfaction. He reckoned the creep wouldn't lay a
finger on Catriona again in a hurry.
'Very well, I will see you children in my office.
Stanley and Wade, we are going to see Mrs Carruthers.
She will attend to you.'
The three children walked back up the slope, with
every child in the school looking on, until they stood
side by side outside the principal's office.
When Mr Carruthers returned, he took David
inside and left the two girls outside. 'Now, tell me,
what caused the fight?'

'I would rather not say, sir.'
'You would rather not say. You half kill another
boy in my schoolyard and you would rather not say.
You know that I do not tolerate fighting. You gave
Stanley a real hiding and I want to know why. I must
know, David.'
David did not want to dob Stanley in, creep
though he was, but he was mostly concerned that
Catriona did not get into trouble. If he told Mr Carruthers
that Stanley had undone Catriona's blouse,
he might somehow imagine that she had done it
willingly.
'I think you're hiding something and I mean to
find out what it is. Go back to class and send
Catriona in.'
'I didn't tell him anything, Cat. Not a word,'
David managed to whisper in her ear before she went
into the office and the door closed behind her.
'Now, Catriona, I want you to tell me what happened
down there. You are a very sensible girl and
David has never given me an ounce of trouble so
there has to be a very good reason for all this. I want
you to tell me about it. Did Stanley say or do something
to upset you?'
He saw by the way the girl's face flamed that he
was on the right track.
Catriona was not her normal self. She was, in fact,
in a state of shock. Her mother had warned her about
incidents like this, but Catriona had never expected
it could happen in the school grounds. But, out of

fear that she might be blamed, Catriona, like David,
said nothing. And when Mr Carruthers pressed her
harder, she burst into tears.
After several minutes of fruitless questioning,
Carruthers gave up and sent her along to Miss Warne.
He decided to try a different approach with Susan.
'Now, Susan, Catriona has given me her version
of what happened and I want to check the details
with you. Tell me in your words what happened.'
Susan told the whole story. Mr Carruthers listened
carefully until she had finished. 'So David intervened
when Catriona screamed. Is that right?'
'Yes, sir.'
'He actually got his hand inside Catriona's blouse?'
'Yes, sir.'
'You are absolutely certain that Catriona did
nothing to entice Stanley?'
'Oh, no, Mr Carruthers. Catriona and I were just
talking when Stanley and Wade came over.'
'Is David a special friend to Catriona?'
'I wouldn't say he is a special friend. Catriona likes
David a lot. He helped her last Christmas holidays.
It was in the paper.'
'I am aware of what David did. You may go now,
and thank you. Please ask David to come back here.'
'Sit down, David,' Mr Carruthers said when the
boy returned to his office.
'Yes, sir.'
'Susan has told me what actually happened down
at the willow tree today and I have no doubt that

what she told me was the truth. If it had been an
ordinary fight, you would be in serious trouble.
However, it seems that you acted from the best possible
motives.'
'Yes, sir. Stanley has a dirty mind. Wade is almost
as bad. When I heard Catriona scream, I let him have
it.
'You certainly did. Stanley is in quite a mess.
Did your father teach you to box?' Like most other
people in the district, Mr Carruthers knew of Andrew
MacLeod's reputation as a tough man.
'Actually, sir, it was Tim Sparkes. He was with
Sharman's boxing troupe for a season. He taught me.'
I see.
'But I was told that I should only fight when
there's no other way to settle an argument. I couldn't
very well have asked Stanley to leave Catriona alone.
He would have just laughed at me. That's the kind
of boy he is. I had to teach him a lesson, sir.'
There was a gleam in the principal's eye and he
could not refrain from smiling. 'You may go back to
class. I shall give you a note to take home to your
mother. I should like to see her before school breaks
up. Please do not discuss any of this with the other
children. Understand?'
'Yes, sir.'
There was a kind of hush as David took his place
in the classroom. Catriona still looked white and
strained. She looked across at him and gave him a
weak smile. He nodded in reply.

Stanley Masters did not come back to school that
afternoon, nor for the rest of the term. David eventually
heard that the Masters family had left the district.
Apparently Jack Masters had taken up a position
on a property in southern New South Wales.
Wade Missen did not finish the term either, and
from that day on he began to hate David MacLeod,
not just because of what he had done to him, but
because he knew that he would never be able to beat
him.
Mr Carruthers did not take the senior classes that
afternoon. Instead he took Catriona and Susan to
their homes and explained what had occurred.
Neither girl came back to class that day.
David never said a word to anyone. His mother
learned of the fracas from Mr Carruthers in the first
instance and from Jane Campbell shortly after. Anne
complied with the principal's request that she come
and see him.
'Has David said anything to you about what happened
here the other day?' Mr Carruthers asked.
'I was not aware that anything had happened,'
Anne said rather tersely. 'Did it involve David?'
'Oh, yes, it certainly involved David,' he said, and
then related the full story, including the second interview
with her son.
'Oh, dear. Was the boy badly hurt?'
'He wasn't in first-class condition. Between the
two of us, I think Stanley got what he deserved. I did
not punish David because any boy worth his salt

would have reacted in similar fashion. David also
tried to defend Catriona by keeping quiet. That boy
of yours is really something, Mrs MacLeod.'
'I suppose the Campbells know all about this?'
Anne asked.
'Oh, yes. I took Catriona and Susan home that
afternoon. I also told them what other action I would
be taking. I had to do that in case there is further
trouble. I doubt that there will be because there is
prior evidence of Stanley's unseemly conduct.'
'How did Angus and Jane react to your news?'
'Naturally they were shocked. You don't expect to
find such behaviour in a primary school.'
'Goodness, I've heard nothing at all,' Anne said.
'It's David I really wanted to discuss with you
today. I am afraid to say that in many ways David
has disappointed me because his heart is not in his
work. He is a very bright boy and he could be at the
top of the class, but he only ever does the bare
minimum. Many times I have caught him gazing out
the windows, lost in his own world. He really needs
to concentrate on his lessons.'
Anne sighed. How could she make Mr Carruthers
understand how passionately David loved High Peaks
and his animals?
'I understand what you're saying. Believe me, I
know how difficult it is to motivate David. He feels
that going to school is a penance he must live with
until he's old enough to leave and look after High
Peaks.'

Mr Carruthers shook his head. 'The land is very
risky, Mrs MacLeod. Your husband has nearly killed
himself to free your property from debt. Is that what
you want for David?'
'Did you advise Stuart Campbell in this same
fashion?' Anne asked bluntly.
'Well, no,' the principal said and coloured slightly.
'But the Campbells have a large property. Stuart's
future is assured.'
'So it's fine for the Campbells to be landowners but
not the MacLeods?' Anne asked, raising her eyebrows.
'Well, in all strictest confidence, Stuart was not
nearly as bright as your David, although he did try
harder. I am just saying that it could be worth him
learning something else in case things don't turn out
so well on the property. To do that he would
have to work harder at high school than he has
done here.'
'David will probably learn to shear like his father,
and that brings in good money. We hope to buy
another property and we could pay that off if two
incomes were coming in.'
'If you don't mind me saying, Mrs MacLeod,
David could set his sights higher than shearing. He
is very bright.'
'Shearing helped to pay off the debt on High
Peaks, Mr Carruthers. Right now we don't owe
anybody a brass farthing. I know you mean well and
I appreciate you talking to me about David, but as
you know, I was a teacher myself. I know David

better than anyone. He is a unique child, and to try
to change him too much would do more harm than
good.'
'As you say, you know David best and I'm sure
you're right. I think he's too bright not to be pushed
a little harder, but having said that, let me also say
that I would be very proud to have David for my son.
He is a splendid boy.'
'Thank you, Mr Carruthers. I'm pleased that we
both agree on that point. And I am very sorry if
David's fight caused you problems,' Anne said.
'Well, just between you and me, I do not regret
the departure of Stanley Masters from this school.
And Wade Missen, too. It is a fact that children seem
to be maturing faster these days.'
'I am sure David will not be unduly affected by
what goes on at high school or anywhere else. He
knows what he wants out of life and Andy and I will
do all we can to see that he achieves it.'
So that was that. But as Anne drove back to High
Peaks she wondered what Angus and Jane thought of
the Stanley Masters affair. Twice during the current
year David had come to Catriona's rescue. How
would Angus take that?
'He told you about it, didn't he, Mum?' David
asked. He was having afternoon tea a few minutes
after getting off the school bus. He had seen his
mother through the classroom window and had
sensed trouble.
'Who told me what?' Anne answered.

David knew he was right. There was trouble
looming. It was probably a lecture. His mother was
never formal unless a lecture was to follow.
'Mr Carruthers told you about me fighting with
that creep Masters.'
'Was there a fight? I gained the impression it was
all one-sided. Did Stanley hit you at all?'
'Well, no, I didn't give him the chance to hit me.'
'And I suppose we can thank Tim Sparkes for your
new-found prowess?'
'Too right.'
'I am going to have a serious talk with you, David.
You need to know some things before you go to high
school. It's important that I talk to you about the
facts of life in case the Campbells should ring or come
and see us about what happened.'
'Why should they?' David asked as he reached for
another piece of chocolate cake. If he had to sit
through a lecture, he might as well take advantage of
what was in the cake tin.
'You'll make yourself sick if you eat too much of
that. Have a piece of fruit instead. Now, you may not
appreciate the fact, but the Campbells are once again in
our debt - well, your debt, really. If you hadn't intervened,
Stanley might have taken things even further.'
'What do you mean?'
Anne sighed. It was a great pity that children had
to grow up. But the first shadow of what lay ahead
for her son had crossed his path and now she would
have to try to explain it.

So for the next hour, Anne gave David his first
major lesson in the facts of life. It was an ordeal for
her, and she sensed it was an ordeal for David, too.
'Are you clear about everything now?' she asked
finally.
'Yes, Mum. Can I go now?'
'Yes, you can. And in case you think I'm cross
with you, I'm not. I'm proud of what you did, but I
hope it is the first and last time you have to do it.'
The, too. Thanks, Mum.' He ran for the back
door and she heard it bang loudly behind him. She
had absolutely no idea how much of her words he
had absorbed, and a brief feeling of sympathy for
Mr Carruthers passed over her.
That night Jane Campbell rang with an invitation
for Anne and David to come to Inverlochy for afternoon
tea on Saturday. David, as usual, resisted.
'You are going, David. That's all there is to it. This
invitation requires common courtesy,' his mother said.
David appealed to his father, who was engrossed
in the latest issue of The Land newspaper.
'It's only one afternoon, Davie, and if I know the
Campbells, and if Mrs Rogers is still housekeeper,
they'll bung on a big spread,' he said.
David tried to assess the appeal of a big spread
against a ride up Jimmy's Mountain with Lad behind
him. Inverlochy lost hands down. He was about to
protest again when his father stopped him.
'I'll tell you what I'll do. You get this thing at the
Campbells' out of the way and Sunday morning I'll

give you your first shearing lesson. How does that
strike you?'
'Wow, will you, Dad?' David had been busting to
learn how to shear. His dad's promise silenced his
protests about going to Inverlochy and he resolved to
put on the best face he could for the blasted smoko.
So it was that in a very fair mood he accompanied
his mother to Inverlochy. They were welcomed by
Jane Campbell, who stood at the front steps of the
big homestead as Anne's car pulled up. Catriona was
standing beside her mother and looked prettier than
Anne had ever seen her. She had grown a lot in the
year since her accident on Yellow Rock. Today, her
long golden hair was tied in two plaits with blue and
white check ribbons, and she was wearing a blue and
white dress to match. Catriona coloured slightly when
David came up the steps. He had been a witness to
what had happened to her under the willow tree and
that indignity was still fresh in her mind.
'Hi, Cat,' he growled.
'Hello, David,' she replied softly.
They were taken into the very large lounge room,
which Anne had come to know well from her visits
over the years. The room was furnished with huge
leather chairs and an enormous matching sofa. The
Campbells sometimes used this room for formal
dinner parties and other gatherings. There were two
original paintings on the walls, one a Gruner and the
other a McCubbin. Anne was keen on art and had
once studied it, not that she had ever been able to

afford paintings like those. The other main point of
interest in the room was the fireplace. This was
recessed about five feet and would take a very big log
or stump.
Anne and Jane sat in the lounge chairs facing each
other and David and Catriona sat at each end of the
sofa. The children listened while their mothers spoke
of many things - Christmas, the holidays, Catriona's
clothes for boarding school ... it went on and on
... and David was bored stiff. He hoped that Stuart
Campbell would make an appearance so that he could
escape with him to the stables where the in-feed horses were kept. But both Stuart and his father were
nowhere to be seen.
Presently Jane looked across at her daughter and
nodded. 'Catriona has something to say to David,'
she said with a half-smile. Anne thought it rather a
forced smile, one of someone trying to be pleasant in
a difficult situation.
'Thank you, Mummy. I want to say that Mummy
invited you over today so that I could thank you
again, David, for what you did at school.'
Catriona said her piece like a well-drilled child
actress. But she had not finished. 'Mummy has told
me what might have happened,' - and here her face
went quite pink - 'if you hadn't followed those awful
boys down to where Susan and I were sitting. It was
two against one and you could have been hurt, David.
It was very brave of you to tackle them the way you
did.'

Catriona, like David, had also had a lecture from
her mother, though in her case it had not been her
first. The emphasis this time was on the biological
consequences of being handled by boys and men, and
the fact that, as she grew older, more and more males
would look at her.
Catriona was more advanced physically and mentally
than David and she had thought a great deal
about what her mother said. She really liked David
MacLeod, and she would lie awake at night thinking
about him before she went to sleep. Her mother's
words kept coming back to her: 'It's a woman's prerogative
to decide who you will allow to take such
liberties.'
She had discussed the idea of boyfriends with
Susan and they had agreed that Catriona couldn't tell
her mother about all her feelings for David.
'Aw, it was nothing, Cat,' David said. 'I never
liked Stanley. I wasn't going to let him get away with
frightening you.'
'It was very gallant of you, David,' Jane said graciously.
'I know you don't want to talk about it, so I
think we should go out on the back verandah for
afternoon tea.'
That was the best suggestion David had heard all
day and he got up smartly and followed the others
outside. Spread out on one long table was about the
biggest array of food David had ever seen in his young
life. There were several large cakes, including one
chocolate and one double-cream cake, and plates

galore of other delicacies. There was also a selection
of soft drinks in a big copper of crushed ice.
Poor Mrs Rogers, Anne thought as she surveyed
the spread in front of her. She must have been up
since dawn putting all this together.
'You weren't here for Catriona's birthday party
and she will be away at school next year, so we have
to make the most of today. It is also a kind of thank
you for being such a good friend to Catriona over the
last year,' Jane said.
David's eyes widened. He didn't know what to say
under the circumstances but finally blurted out, 'It's
very good of you, Mrs Campbell, but there was no
need to make such a fuss. Any other boy would have
done just the same as I did.'
'I doubt that very much, David. And I should also
add that this is a kind of farewell party because
Catriona will be going away to Sydney for a few
years,' Jane added.
'She will be coming home for her holidays, though,
won't she?' David asked.
'Oh, yes, we shall have her home for most holidays,'
Jane said.
'Go easy on the chocolate cake,' Anne whispered in
David's ear as he went to pile his plate. David had once
eaten half a chocolate cake and been mightily sick, and
his mother would never let him forget it. He sampled
a fair proportion of what was on the table and washed
it down with several glasses of fruit drink. Catriona did
not eat very much but stayed close to him.

'Do you want to go away to school?' he whispered
in her ear when her mother left them to get a pot of
tea.
'I have to,' Catriona whispered back. 'It's something
that can't be avoided. Why, will you miss me?'
David had not meant the question in that light.
'Aw, I just think it's rotten of your people to send
you away for six years. I wouldn't go. No way. And
Mum wouldn't send me.'
Catriona struggled to find words to answer him. It was very difficult to explain that a boarding-school
education was an essential part of life for a Campbell.
'Who will look after your horses?' he asked.
'We have a stud groom, and he will exercise them.
I shall be home to ride them at the camps because
they are usually held in school holidays.'
'Gosh, Cat - weeks and weeks, maybe months,
without a horse to ride. What will you do with yourself
on weekends?' he asked.
'There will be plenty to do. There are concerts and
other outings, church and social gatherings. Then
there is homework and we also learn dancing.'
David groaned. 'Jeez, Cat, I feel sorry for you.
I really do.'
'Don't feel sorry for me, David. Mummy says I
will come home a very polished young woman.'
'You're polished enough now,' he said gruffly.
Catriona looked pleased. 'Thank you. That was a
sweet thing to say.'
David let the topic rest. As his father often said,

what the Campbells did was their own business.
Just when Anne had decided that David had eaten
enough afternoon tea for two boys his age, Jane produced
a large cardboard box which she began packing
cakes and other goodies into. 'You must take these back
with you, Anne. I know what kind of appetite David
has, and it may save you some cooking for a few days.'
David, urged on by his mother's whispered
entreaty, thanked Mrs Campbell for the box of
goodies and for the afternoon tea. He even went so
far as to say it had been 'fantastic'.
That night Anne sat down and wrote to her sister.
She knew that Katie would want to know all the
details of David's latest exploit.
Kate Gilmour's eyes misted as she read her sister's
letter several days later. She was realising how much
she loved and missed the MacLeod family at High
Peaks. She had already determined that she would not
go ahead with her planned motoring holiday; other
forces were pulling at her. She had come back from
High Peaks with the knowledge that she had a fierce
love for her sister's son. He had really wound his way
into her affections during her last stay. The realisation
that it was unlikely she would ever marry had altered
her outlook on life. The fact was that there wasn't a
man in sight who meant anything to her. Her parents
were in good health for their age and did not actually
need her. How lovely it would be to up sticks and
move to High Peaks permanently. But she would
have to find a job at the hospital.

The more Kate thought about the idea, the more
it made sense to her. She had excellent references and
was a triple-certificate nurse. Even if she had to live
in Merriwa, she felt it would be preferable to living
and working in the Sydney rat-race. She decided to
talk to Anne about the possibility of moving to
Merriwa. She could then be with the family almost
every weekend. She could buy her own horse and ride
it all over High Peaks. Andy would let her have a
good horse, a horse that was tried and tested in the
hills. He could take her with him when he and David
competed in campdrafts. Maybe she could even
compete herself.
Kate realised time was passing her by. David was
at such an interesting age right now, and Christmas
was nearly upon them again. Next year David would
be going to high school, and she wondered how he
would face up to that. He would be like a square peg
in a round hole. Yet she was sure she could help him
through. It was not that Anne wasn't the best mother
a boy could have, but she so wanted to be there to
lend an extra hand and help David out when he ventured
into the hills.
Kate's head raced with excitement about how her
new life might be. All she had to do was talk to Anne
and make enquiries at Merriwa Hospital. It wouldn't
take much for her dream to be made true.





Chapter Twelve





Don't push the machine too hard, David. Speed
doesn't matter yet. Concentrate on filling the comb
and making your strokes clean.'
It was the week following Christmas and Andy was
giving David another shearing lesson. There were
three lambs in the pen - wriggly devils, but nowhere
near as big and hard to hold as a wether for a learner
shearer. Kate Gilmour was sitting on a butt of crutchings
and watching her nephew with great interest. She
had come up from Sydney for Christmas and was
staying on another week.
The MacLeods bred merino lambs on their lower
country where the cattle grazed. Sheep that were bred
in the area thrived better than sheep brought in from
other districts. There was a lot more work involved
in running merino ewes, but the wether portion of
their drop replaced the older wethers and any excess
or cull ewes could be sold for cash. The pick of the

ewe portion was retained for breeding.
David finished the lamb and straightened up. He
watched the lamb run into the counting-out pen and
reckoned he had made a fair job of shearing it.
'How's the back, Davie?' Kate asked.
'Not bad,' he said.
Kate knew he would never say otherwise, never
admit weakness. He and his father were a good pair.
They could be dead on their feet but still 'okay' by
them.
'Have a few minutes' spell before you do another one,' Andrew advised.
'All right,' David agreed. He put some oil in the
handpiece and then leant up against a post and
inspected the other two lambs. He was just about to
go into the catching pen for another lamb when they
heard a vehicle pull up outside the shed.
Kate got off the butt and went to the door of the
wool room to check out who the visitor was. They
didn't get a lot of visitors at the end of the road. The
wool rep called a couple of times a year but most of
their visitors were dog and horse enthusiasts.
'There is a very large man with a grey pointed beard
getting out of a red utility,' Kate informed them.
There was only one man in the district who
answered that description. Andy and David knew at
once that it had to be Wilfred White, their next-door
neighbour. His property's side boundary adjoined
their back boundary and, lower down, the White
property adjoined Inverlochy.

Will was one of the district's genuine characters.
He used to have an identical twin brother called
Wesley. The White twins were huge; no taller than
Andrew but carrying far more weight and not anywhere
near so lean and hard. They had been big, fat
boys right from the start. Will had thighs as thick as
strainer posts and walked with a distinctive rolling
gait, more like that of a sailor than an old bushman.
Both Will and Wesley had copied their late father's
peculiar habits of speech. The old chap had had
very little schooling because he had worked his guts
out since he was twelve. He was a disciple of Henry
Lawson and his Bible was The Bulletin, which he
read laboriously from cover to cover. Most of his
sentences began or finished with the words 'by gum',
as did Will and Wesley's. Will also used English in
a convoluted way. It sometimes took a while to
work out what he meant, although Andy and Anne
didn't have any trouble.
When the twins' father died, the two boys and
their sister, Gertrude, inherited the 3300-acre property,
Poitrel. It had been surveyed and divided into
three equal portions so they could each do as they
liked with their blocks. Gertrude had then married,
moved away, and left her portion for the two boys to
look after. Will and Wesley were bachelors at the time
Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, overran Malaya and
then bombed Darwin. The boys had not paid much
attention to what the Germans did because it was all
so far away, but when Japan entered the war it was a

different matter entirely. However, only one brother
could join up as the other would have to stay and
look after Poitrel. It was Wesley who joined the AIF
and, tragically, was killed in New Guinea.
Will took his brother's death very badly. He
became almost a recluse. He never married, he seldom
left the property and, until Gertie came back to look
after him, the mailman delivered his groceries.
Will's major interest in life was horses. He had
a wonderful collection of thoroughbreds, some of
which had won classic races. He was a walking,
talking authority on the subject. He also bred an
amazing range of poultry, including pheasants and
peacocks.
Will spent a great deal of his time studying equine
pedigrees and race performances. The shelves on his
office walls were lined with thoroughbred journals
from Europe and the United States. Angus Campbell
raced a few horses and considered himself something
of an authority on thoroughbreds, but his knowledge
was nothing compared with that of Will White. Will
also had a reasonably good knowledge of stock-horse
pedigrees. Although he could not handle a horse
anywhere near as well as Andy MacLeod could, he
probably had a better theoretical knowledge of the
background of most stock horses than Andy.
Andy shore and crutched Will's sheep, and took
his payment in sheep. It seemed that Will never had
any spare cash. Nobody could work out why this was,
because Will was not a fellow to throw his money

around, not locally anyway. Andrew knew that Will
sent a lot of his money to his widowed sister. He also
knew that a fair slice of Will's money went into training
fees for his horses. Will lived for his horses and
his dream was to breed and own a Melbourne Cup
winner. Andrew had handled a lot of horses for him
and probably knew him better than anyone else in
the district. One thing he did know for certain was
that Will had never bet on a horse.
The MacLeods had a soft spot for Will. During
the war, when Andy's mother ran High Peaks, Will
had been very helpful. He would come and help
Paddy Covers put the shearing through, and many
times he had helped muster the high country. He
never came empty-handed, but always brought a gift
of some kind, usually a box of chocolates for Anne
and a large bag of sweets for David.
'Will White,' Andy said to David.
'I wonder what he wants,' David said with a grin.
'Probably got some horses for you to break in, Dad.'
'We'd better go and find out,' Andy said.
Will was on his way up to the house when they
came out of the shearing shed. 'Hey, Will, over here,'
Andy called.
The big man's rolling walk came to a stop. He
turned and his face lit up when he saw the three of
them standing outside the shearing shed.
'By gum, it's a good morning to you, Andy and
David, and this must be Sister Kate.' He nodded to
Kate, whom he had never met.

'Yeah, Will, this is Anne's sister, Kate. Kate, meet
Wilfred White.'
'By gum, Sister, I am very pleased to meet you. A
fine large day, Andy. Just look at young David here.
You've grown a foot since I last saw you. What are
you doing in the shed, David? You tell me.'
'I'm learning to shear, Mr White. Dad is teaching
me.'
'You're learning to shear? You're starting early.
I bet you'll be a gun shearer just like your father. Your
Dad's the best I ever did see.'
'Maybe I will be and maybe I won't,' David said,
doubting that he would ever be able to shear as well
as his father.
'You got time for a drink o' tea, Will?' Andy asked.
He knew that Will had never been known to knock
back a cuppa, because that meant he got to sample
Anne's cooking. This had reached new heights since
she had begun competing in local shows. Will had a
sweet tooth, and because of his predilection for cream
and other rich things, he was very overweight. Gertie
had read the riot act to him and put him on a diet.
But he always had a big feed when he came to High
Peaks.
'I should think very much so. I might be here a
while, Andy. I've got to talk to you real hard.'
Andrew repressed a smile. He was aware that Will
used peculiar language, but his meaning was never in
doubt. 'That sounds serious, Will. Let's go inside.'
Anne always made a fuss of Will, and she was

delighted to see him. He had been unfailingly kind
to her from the very first time she had met him as a
new bride. Several times she had sent him samples of
her cooking, and Will was one of those people who
never forgot a kindness and always repaid it. The pure
Jersey cow she had milked that morning had been a gift from Will. And of course Andy never charged
him for breaking in his horses, which Will repaid
with loads of lucerne hay.
'How have you been keeping, Will?' Anne asked
when they were all seated in the big lounge room.
'Not the best, Mrs Mac. Not the very best,' he
replied, looking a bit downcast.
'That's no good. What's the problem?' she asked.
'Well, you see, Mrs Mac, it's my heart. I had a
heart attack. Gertie came up and took me to the
doctor. They put me in the hospital. They frightened
me, Mrs Mac. Told me my heart is no good, no good
at all. Gertie is over home now.'
'Oh, Will. I am sorry. You kept that very quiet
didn't you? Why didn't you tell us sooner? And you
should have brought Gertie with you,' Anne scolded.
'I haven't seen her for years.'
'You will. I promise. Gert wanted to come but said
she had too much work to do.' Here the old chap
looked a bit sheepish. 'The house got in a bit of a
mess with me not feeling so good and Gert is cleaning
up. Packing up things, too.'
Will put his hand in his coat pocket, brought out
a packet of jubes and placed them in front of David.

'I think you are getting too big for lollies, young
fellow. Mrs Mac, don't let me leave without giving
you something that is in the old ute. Gert says I'm
getting a bit forgetful.'
'You really shouldn't bring me things, Will,' Anne
protested.
'Like doing it, Mrs Mac. You're a bonzer woman.
Best woman I know of in these parts.'
Anne blushed as she put the morning tea on the
small table within easy reach of the old man. Andy
could see that there was something on Will's mind.
He had never seen him so agitated.
'David, perhaps you could go and chop some
wood for your mother?' Andrew said.
'Good idea. I'll go with you,' Kate suggested.
'I'd rather you didn't, Kate. David, do as I asked,'
Andy said firmly. David could see his father's mind
was made up.
Will watched the boy leave the room. 'By gum,
you've got a great boy there. I've been hearing wonderful
things about him. I wish he were my son. Too
late for that now. I never did meet a woman like you
anyway, Mrs Mac'
'I'm sure you did, Will,' Anne said and smiled.
'I heard tell that you and Wesley were the two most
handsome boys in the district.'
'You always say kind things, Mrs Mac. Never
known you not to.'
'What's the problem, Will?' Andy cut in on the
small talk. 'Is there anything we can do to help?'

'I want to sell Poitrel,' Will said.
There was total silence in the room while Andy
and Anne digested this startling announcement. Kate,
not so aware of the importance of Will's declaration
and what it entailed, nevertheless sensed that something
big was in the wind.
'The whole place?' Andy asked at last.
'The whole place. All three blocks.'
'What are you going to do without it?' Anne
asked.
'Gert and the doctors aren't going to let me do much,
Mrs Mac. I reckon I might do a bit of fishing. Always
wanted to do a bit of fishing in the ocean. Gert and I
are going to live on the north coast. She's sold her house
in Sydney. I couldn't abide to live down there.'
'But your horses, Will. Your lovely horses,' Anne
said. She saw his face soften and knew that she had
targeted his most vulnerable spot.
'How are you going to sell the place, Will? Privately
or by auction?' Andy asked.
'Neither. I want you to have it. You and Mrs Mac
and young David.'
'We couldn't afford to buy your land, Will. I
haven't long cleared the debt on this place. I don't
have much cash right now. If it was just one block I
would have a lash at it, but three would be too much
for us to handle. How much have you got on it, Will?'
'You can have it for ten dollars an acre under the
going price, but I want to sell it as a whole, and I

want you to keep my horses. If I die before I sell it,
what will become of my horses? I want them all to
end their days on Poitrel.'
'Will, I've got to be honest with you and say that
I'm not a thoroughbred man. You know that. If and
it's a mighty big if - we could handle Poitrel,
what would I do with your horses?'
'You could use some of the mares to breed stock
horses. You won't find better bred mares anywhere.
Put them to top stock horse sires and you'll breed the
best. Andy, you're the only man I know who would
keep his word once he gave it. You always have and
I know you always will. There's no other man I would
trust my horses to and know they'll be looked after.'
Andrew shook his head. The ten-dollars-an-acre
discount amounted to over $33 000, which was not
to be sneezed at, but it was a small sum compared
with the true value of Poitrel. He would have to
see the bank about mortgaging High Peaks. If they
bought the land it would put them back in debt
again and he would probably have to go back shearing
for the extra income. Certainly there would be
added revenue from Poitrel, but Andy knew that the
place was badly run-down. The sheep flock had been
let slip and was in a right old mess, and the cattle
were a hotchpotch of poor-quality Shorthorns and
Herefords. It would take some years to pull the place
back into shape.
But Wilfs offer excited him. The purchase of
more land had always been a dream since Anne came

to High Peaks. The beauty of Poitrel was that at least
half of it was first-class grazing country. There was
also a splendid valley where Will grew his lucerne.
The two places would give them over 7000 acres,
which was a very creditable spread of country. And
the best thing of all was that Poitrel adjoined High
Peaks.
'What financial arrangements do you have in
mind?' Andy asked after a break in the conversation.
'Andy, if you can give me the deposit, I'll carry
the finance. That way you won't have to ask the bank
for so much. You pay me something every six months
and I'll be happy.'
'How much deposit do you want?'
'Enough to buy a good house on the coast and
enough money to live on until your next payment.'
'How many sheep have you got up there?' Andy
asked.
'I reckon about eighteen hundred, and perhaps a
bit over one hundred cows.'
'And how many mares?'
'About forty, and the young stuff. I'll throw the
stock in with the price of the place.'
'Cattle, too?'
'Yes, the lot.'
Andy breathed a little faster. Wilfs terms were
unbelievable. Nobody in their right mind could turn
down his offer. It was his horses the old chap was
worrying about. Will could not bear to see them sold.
'Will, you know that Angus Campbell could give

a better deal than you're offering,' Andy suggested.
'Appreciate that. Honest of you to say so. I don't
want Angus to have Poitrel. Never cared whether I
lived or died, or his father before him. Never came
near me when Wesley was killed. Know who came
first, Andy? Your mother. Damned fine woman, your
mother. None better outside Mrs Mac here. That's
where you get it from, Andy, you and young David.
No, Gert and me want you people to have Poitrel.
And pretty damned quick in case I keel over.'
Andy glanced across at Anne. 'When do you need
an answer, Will?'
'Can see it's a bit of a shock to you. You'll have
to see the bank. Say a week. You can have the offer
for a week. Is that fair enough?'
'It's more than fair, Will. Your offer is extremely
generous.'
The old chap put his hand in his shirt pocket and
pulled out a piece of dog-eared notepaper. 'I've
written the whole deal down on paper. Gert and me
have signed it. If anything should happen to me
during the week, the deal still stands. You can show
that to the bank. If your bank won't handle it, mine
will. Seen them already. Tell your bank that.'
'That's very decent of you, Will,' Andy said.
'Got to look out for my horses, Andy.'
'Will you stay for lunch?' Anne asked.
'I would love to, but only if I can ring Gert and
tell her I'm here and all right. She worries about me
when I get out of her sight. She also says I've got to

lose weight. Got me on this low-fat diet. Great way
to finish up, eh, Andy?'
Andy, who knew how prodigiously Will had eaten
over the years, reckoned Gertie was about twenty
years late in instituting a diet for Will.
Later, after Will had left, the three adults and
David - who had been told of Will's offer over
lunch - sat in a kind of stunned silence. Kate had
quickly grasped the significance of the offer, and the
glimmer of an idea was growing in her brain. The
acquisition of land was a tremendously important
matter in the life of a farmer or grazier. More land
meant greater productivity and, therefore, a greater
financial return. If they could pay it off, Poitrel would
give the MacLeod family financial security. It would
more or less guarantee David's future.
Anne sat at the table and wrote down the figures
Andy had given her. Despite the more than generous
offer Will had made them, the purchase of Poitrel
entailed a big parcel of money. The deposit alone
would amount to a year's income off High Peaks and
that would have to be loaned by the bank. There
would not be a wool clip off Poitrel for nearly twelve
months and, what's more, the sheep had been
neglected and did not cut much wool. There would
be some cattle to sell, but the money from that would
only pay some of the running costs of the property,
like shire rates, chemicals, and so on. Andrew reckoned
that the only way they could possibly meet
Will's terms was by asking the bank for more than

the amount of the deposit Will required - and by
himself going back to the big shearing runs. This
would mean he would be away for weeks, even
months, at a time. How could he look after two properties
and shear as well? And was it fair to leave Anne
and David for such long periods?
Slowly and carefully he explained all of this to
Anne and Kate. Anne, who knew how much he
wanted Poitrel, appreciated all that Andy was telling
them. She was a smart woman and she didn't have
to be told a thing twice. 'The long and the short of
it is that it means going back into debt again,' Andy
said, 'and I can't look after over seven thousand acres
of country from a shed in Queensland. Also, it would
mean we would have very little spending money.'
'Well, I don't have a problem with any of that except
you going back to shearing,' Anne said.
'But you know I can make a fair bit of money
from it,' Andy said.
'And half kill yourself in the process,' Anne
protested.
'I know a way out of your predicament,' Kate said.
'Please tell me,' Andy said with a weak smile.
'First off, I could let you have several thousand
dollars '
'Kate, we couldn't borrow from you,' Anne
protested.
'Wait a sec and listen to what I have to say. It
seems that now is the right time to let you know
what's been on my mind for a very long time now.

The fact is that my job and Sydney in general have
been getting me down. Oh, the job is all right, but
I'm not getting anywhere. Sydney's such a rat-race,
and I miss you all so much that I've been wondering
whether I could get a position at the Merriwa Hospital.
Now it's occurred to me that if you purchase
Poitrel, I could live there myself. I would have to live
somewhere, so why not next door? I could be a kind
of caretaker into the bargain. And I could help in
other ways. If I had a rent-free home I wouldn't need
any cash so I could loan you some money towards
the deposit. If you had to go away, Andy, I'm sure
that the three of us could handle things. If I do say
so myself, I think I have become quite handy lately,'
Kate said. She was so excited about the argument she
had just put forward that she could hardly wait for
the others to respond.
'Kate, it would be terrific if you could move up
here,' Anne said excitedly. 'It really would. I didn't
realise you were so serious about the idea. Apart from
my own feelings, I am sure David would love to have
you here. What do Mum and Dad think of it?'
'Oh, they manage quite all right when I am overseas.
And it's not far back to Sydney if they need me.'
'Then I'm all for it, Kate. It would be perfectly
splendid to have you here under any circumstances,
but with Andy going off to his old sheds for weeks
and months at a time, it will be even more fantastic.
My only reservation is you living alone at Poitrel,'
Anne said.

'That is a minor issue that shouldn't concern us
right now,' Kate said. 'There are more important considerations.
You've been presented with a wonderful
opportunity to expand, and to secure your future.
You should grab it with both hands.'
'I appreciate all that,' Anne put in quickly, 'and
so does Andy. But he's talking about going back to
shearing more or less full time. It isn't much of a life
for him, breaking his back over sheep in terribly hot
sheds, and if I know Andy, he'll push himself to the
limit. I thought he'd finished with that kind of
slaving. Besides, I would miss the big lug. The prospect
of having to go through all that again doesn't fill
me with great joy,' Anne said vehemently.
'This time David is older and I would be close by.
I could even stay here, if that would help,' Kate said.
'You can't live at two places, Kate. And you would
probably be on shift work at the hospital, and that's
all hoping that you do get a position there. On top
of that, David will be travelling long distances to high
school. There's a lot to think about.'
'If the price of wool goes up, we could probably
pay back the money much quicker,' Andy suggested.
'If, if, if. We can't rely on that happening, Andy.
If wool goes up, then all well and good. I know it's
a great opportunity but there is a trade-off, isn't there?
The heaviest burden falls on you, and we'll have to
do your work between us, mainly on weekends when
David is home to help.'
Kate glanced at her nephew, who was sitting

through all of this conversation without uttering a
word. He was stunned. Wilfred's offer filled him with
such joy that he could barely contain himself, but he
had enough commonsense to realise his parents and
Kate were talking serious stuff.
'David would love that,' Kate said.
'Perhaps, but it would mean a lot of work for a
young boy. It would be like Andy all over again a
boy grown up too soon,' Anne said with a sigh.
'Well, I don't see why the three of us can't handle
it,' Kate said. 'There are good yards here and I am
sure there are yards at Poitrel. You have the dogs and
the horses to do the job. A bit of jetting is nothing.
And we can always employ someone for a day or two
if we need an extra hand.'
'There's a bit more to it than jetting, Katie. There
is drenching and crutching and lamb- and calf
marking. Who is going to crutch them? Do you
expect a twelve-year-old boy to crutch over 5000
sheep?'
'I'll learn to crutch and we can both do them,'
Kate said with enthusiasm.
Anne threw her hands in the air. 'Katie, you're as
bad as David. If only it were all so easy.'
'Look, sister dear, I want to make this place and
this district my life from now on. If I can do anything
to help David, and you two, I will. So it's going to
be a bit tough for a few years. So what? You can't
expect three thousand three hundred acres to come
tumbling into your laps without a few sacrifices.'

'Kate's right, Anne,' Andy said. 'I appreciate your
argument. I know it isn't going to be easy for any of
us. At least David is older now and very useful. If
Kate is going to be close by, that should make a difference.
If we don't take on Poitrel, I reckon Angus
Campbell would buy it. We'd be landlocked by him
and we'd have to look further afield for extra
country. I think we should sleep on it. In the
morning we'll go over to Poitrel and let Kate see
it at close quarters.'
'That's a good idea,' Kate agreed enthusiastically.
Her eyes were shining at the prospect before her. It
was just what she had been waiting for.
Her enthusiasm was more than matched by
David's. 'Are we really going to buy Poitrel, Dad?' he
asked when he got his father on his own.
'There's a good chance we will, Davie. But Wilfs
let the place run down a fair bit. That would mean
a lot more work for you and Mum, and Kate, if she
comes into the deal.'
'Don't worry about the work, Dad. We can do it.'
'Good on you, son. Your support means a lot to
us. We'll have to agree to keep Mr White's horses
and look after them until they die. If we buy Poitrel,
we keep the horses, and if anything happens to me,
you would have to honour that agreement. A man is
not worth a spit if he doesn't keep his word. And
Mr White is trusting us to do the right thing with
his horses.'
David nodded. 'Whatever you say, Dad.'

'Good man. We'll go over in the morning and
inspect the place. If we do end up buying it - and
I'm not saying that we definitely will - it would be
very handy to have Kate over there. It might also be
better for management purposes to cut our boundary
fence and put in gates so we can move stock around
a bit easier. We could bring all the sheep from the
Poitrel high country through our place and shear
them here. There's a fair bit of work in looking after
more than seven thousand acres, but we've got good
dogs and good horses and we know the country. It
mightn't be so bad.'
David nodded. His father had gone to great
lengths to explain things. 'We can do it, Dad. I know
we can.'
'I reckon you'd try your heart out, son.'
'How many years would you be away for, Dad?'
David asked with real concern in his voice. His father
was his best mate and the major source of all the
knowledge he had acquired.
'I really don't know, mate. It depends on a lot of
things. Like how soon we can get Poitrel producing
more wool and vealers, and how the wool market
goes.'
'In three years' time I could leave school and work
here full time,' David said in a voice of great maturity
for his age.
'Your mother might have something to say to that.
I think she has plans for you to go through to fifth
year. I know that Mr Carruthers has been at her to

make you do a course so you could have a trade to
fall back on.'
David was horrified by this suggestion. Six years
at high school and a course as well? He couldn't
believe it.
'Dad, I don't need to stay at school that long, or
do a course either. If we got Poitrel paid off, wouldn't
we be in a good position to buy more country?'
'Whoa, David. We haven't even bought Poitrel
yet, let alone paid for it. Let's not jump any more
fences. We'll see what happens about school in three
years' time. Tomorrow morning you get the horses in
and saddle and bridle them. We'll have early breakfast
and leave straight after.'
'Righto, Dad. Are we taking dogs?'
'Not this trip. I know what Will's sheep are like.'
David's head was in a daze. The prospect of
acquiring more land and stock to add to High Peaks
induced a kind of euphoria far more intense than
anything he had ever experienced. What made it even
more wonderful was the possibility of him doing a
lot more of the stock work himself.











Chapter Thirteen





Next morning Kate was out of bed as soon as she
heard David leave his room. She was just as excited
as he was. They had the horses saddled and their legs
padded, ready to board the old truck straight after
breakfast. It was not long after seven when the utility
and truck left High Peaks. There was a drive of about
three miles down to the crossroads close by Inverlochy
homestead. One road snaked its way towards the
Merriwa-Cassilis road while the spur road that led on
to Poitrel and four other properties turned left. It was
about four miles from the crossroads to the Poitrel
gate, a total drive of about seven miles from High
Peaks. This took ten or twelve minutes in the ute
(depending on who was driving); the gravel road
twisted and turned, making fast driving fairly risky.
A few town hoons had come to grief on the Poitrel
road.
The truck took twenty minutes, so Anne and

Kate - who'd arrived first - were sitting on the verandah
of Poitrel homestead talking with Will and his
sister Gertie when the others arrived.
'By gum, you're all prepared, Andy. No doubt
about you,' Will roared in his booming voice. 'G'day,
young fellow, what's this I hear about you having a
top Sparkes mare?'
'Yeah, she's okay, Mr White,' David answered.
'More than just okay, from what I hear. Second
in your first draft with her. Get her off, lad. I want
to see what she can do.'
'Hello, Gertie. Long time no see,' Andy said to
the big woman who followed Will down the steps.
'Long time, all right, Andy. This is never David?'
'It is, Gertie,' Anne answered.
David could just remember the big red-haired
woman who used to give him piggyback rides on the
lawn at High Peaks.
'Lordy, he's going to be as big as his father, Anne.
And nice-looking, too. The girls will be after him
good and early.'
'I hope not,' Anne laughed.
David suffered Gertie to kiss him and then he and
his father let down the truck's ramp and led the
horses off. They tethered them to a tie rail beneath a
big yellow jack tree.
'Now, look, young fellow. I want to see what this
mare can do. Can't hide your light under a bushel,
not with old Will. I'll be going away soon and I want
to remember you. You get on that mare for me.'

David looked across to his father, who nodded.
'All right, Mr White,' he said.
He looked about the big grassy area outside the
tall netted fence which enclosed the homestead and
its lawns. There was a truly amazing array of poultry
spread out in all directions. Parading through scores
of game and guineafowl and Indian runner ducks
were several magnificent peacocks which were fanning
their gorgeous tail feathers and making an unholy
racket. 'One of them will do,' David muttered to
himself. He vaulted into the saddle and turned Gift
towards the nearest peacock. The cock took immediate
umbrage to the mare's proximity and began to
retreat towards the nearest of his hens. But Gift was
in between them in a matter of seconds. When he
turned to run the other way, she was there, too. For
five minutes the big old man and his sister stood with
the High Peaks trio and watched Gift work the
peacock away from all the other birds until David at
last delivered it almost to Will's feet.
There was a faraway look on Will's face as he
watched the bay mare spin and slide to keep the
peacock coming towards him in a straight line. It
occurred to Anne that he was witnessing something
he had never expected to see, nor would ever see
again.
'Is that enough, Mr White?' David asked.
'By gum, that was terrific, young fellow. What
footwork she's got. Just like a cat on her feet.'
'She's not too bad,' David said modestly as he

dismounted. Gift rubbed her head up and down
David's back and it was obvious the pair were mates.
Will patted the boy's shoulder and winked at
Anne. 'I don't know that I've got a mare as good on
her feet as you have, but I do have one with a lot of
speed. She won three races in Sydney. I reckon she's
the best-looking mare I've ever had. Come along and
I'll show her to you - to all of you, I mean.'
So they all followed Will out to the next paddock,
which was what he called his 'young horse handling
paddock'. There was a set of yards for breaking in,
and a couple of rows of stables with a paved courtyard
between them. The stables were a much grander
concern than would be seen on most properties, and
it was obvious where Will had spent his money. By
comparison, the adjacent shearing shed looked very
second-rate.
There were several yearlings running about in the
paddock. David thought they looked a treat. Will
walked on to the yards where there stood a solitary
bright-chestnut mare with a broad splash of white on
her face and three white stockings. Andy recognised
her immediately as one he had broken in three or
four years earlier.
'What do you think of Ajana, young fellow?' Will
asked.
David wasn't sure what to say. He knew enough
about horses to be able to tell what was and was not
a good type. David recognised that the mare before
him now was an even bigger, grander version of Gift.

'She's a real beaut, Mr White. The best-looking
mare I've ever seen. Big, too. She should have a fair
stride.'
'No flies on this boy, Andy. Chip off the old
block. You've picked it straight off. She has got a big
stride. She's by a son of Ajax. Same colour as Magnificent.
Could be his sister, to look at her. And she's
got terrific speed.'
David had never heard of Ajax or Magnificent, but
he thought they were probably long dead, knowing
how Will raved on about past champions.
'Have you bred from her yet?' David asked.
'Not yet. Not sure if I would send her back for
another season of racing. Not going to now. Refused
a six-figure offer for her. Got another use for her.'
'What's that?' David asked.
'Do you like her, son?'
'Well, she seems a terrific mare from what I've
seen. I would like to be on her when she's galloping.'
'Glad you like her - she's yours! Now, Mrs Mac,'
he said, turning abruptly to Anne, 'you listen to me.
This is to be David's mare. He can use her any way
he likes. If he wants to breed a few good thoroughbreds,
she would be a great foundation mare. By gum,
she would. She is never to be sold. Only condition
that goes with her. None of my mares are ever to be
sold.'
'Wow, do you mean it, Mr White?' David asked.
'Of course I mean it. Never meant anything more
in my life. I heard what you did up there on Yellow

Rock. Saved that pony and took a buster doing it.
Only a true horseman would have done that. Plenty
round here would have put that pony down. You're
going to be something, David. Maybe one day you'll
even be a legend. My days are done with horses, but
I reckon I can help you. Mind you, I'll be coming
back here while I'm able, and I'll want to see what
you're doing with Ajana.'
'What if we don't buy Poitrel?' David asked with
his heart in his mouth.
'The deal stands. This is between you and me,
young fellow. It's got nothing to do with your
parents. The mare is yours. I've just given her to you.
Her papers will be transferred to you, too. You could
even race her up here if your Dad says it's okay. Now,
here's my hand on it.'
David took the big hand that was thrust at him,
and his own hand was engulfed completely.
'Can we take her back today?'
The big man's laughter boomed out like a cannon.
'Course you can. No good Ajana here and you over
there thinking about her.'
'Looks like we'll be taking five horses back today,
then,' Andy said. 'Thank you so much, Will. I'm not
sure if David really appreciates just what he's got and
what this mare is worth. He's a very lucky boy.'
'No, Andy, you're the lucky fellow to have a
boy like him. I wish I had a son of my own, then
I wouldn't be selling Poitrel. No, by gum. Now, I
reckon you will all want to look through the house.'

The homestead was a timber construction, painted
white, with a green galvanised-iron roof. It was a very
large house with a verandah on three sides. Bulk electricity
had only recently reached Poitrel, and the old
generator was still in place. Gertie had installed a new
electric stove in the big kitchen. The rooms were large
with high ceilings and most of the walls were adorned
with paintings or framed photographs of horses. Some
of these pictures were positively spectacular. One that
caught David's eye was a colour picture of Ajana winning a Randwick race by three lengths. 'Wow,' he
breathed as his eyes dwelt on it.
On the far side of the house there were steps that
led down to a quite extensive vegetable garden. There
were tomatoes, lettuces, cucumbers and pumpkins
galore. At the lower end of the garden, where the land
was flat beside the creek, several half-sheets of galvanised
iron were set in the ground and held there with
steel posts.
'What you reckon about my irrigation set-up,
Andy? Just remove the iron and it waters that whole
flat. Grow anything there, you can.'
'No wonder you don't go to town,' Kate suggested.
'You have plenty to do here.'
Yes, including studying pedigrees and race form,
Andrew thought.
'Keeps me busy, Sister Gilmour,' Will replied.
'Kate, please,' she said.
They went back into the house, where Gertie was
waiting for them with some freshly brewed tea. She

put her head to one side and studied David intently.
'Oh, yes, he is going to be very nice looking, Anne.
I can see his grandmother in him. Of course I can
see both of you in him, but one could never forget
David's grandmother. This young man is going to
break hearts before long.'
'Mine first, Gertie, if he's to ride that big mare,'
she replied.
Will's laughter filled the room. 'I reckon this
young fellow could handle Ajana in his sleep.'
'He doesn't need any more encouragement, Will,
thank you. His father is bad enough. No wonder I
have grey hairs.'
'One day this son of yours will be a household
name, Anne. You remember what I say.'
'Don't give him a big head,' Anne laughed. 'He's
hard enough to handle as it is. Now, Will, we have
brought some tucker. We thought we'd lunch up on
the peak.'
'Great idea. Would you mind if I poked along
with you?'
'Course not,' Andy replied.
'You know the place and could show us the short
cuts.'
'Might be the last time for me,' Will said.
'Can I saddle you a horse?' David asked.
'You can, young David. Damned good of you to
make the offer.'
Later that afternoon, when they had seen as much
of Poitrel as could be seen in one day, Will insisted

that they stay for afternoon tea. It was obvious that
he wanted to talk about the sale of the property.
When they had finished their smoko he looked
directly at Andrew and said, 'Well, Andy, you've had
a good look at the old place, warts and all. What do
you reckon? Do you want Poitrel?'
'Sure I want it, Will. We all want it. 'I'll go and
see the bank tomorrow. What worries me most is that
we might have trouble meeting the six-monthly payments.
As you know, our wool clip is our main
income, and we won't be paid for that until the end
of the year. I can't make enough, even if I ring every
shed, to make all that much difference. The first year
or two will be the worst, until we get the stock built
up here. Poitrel could handle another thousand sheep.
If we could run near three thousand sheep plus cattle,
we would be in better shape. I think I'd prefer to ask
the bank for a bigger initial loan to give you your first
two payments. That way you could buy your house
and have enough to live on for twelve months and
by then the two wool clips will be paid for. How does
that strike you?'
'I tell you what we'll do, Andy. You get your solicitor
to draw up a contract that suits you money-wise
and then bring it back and let me see it. I want you
people to have Poitrel and my horses. Don't see why
we can't do as you suggest.'
'We're very grateful to you, Will,' Andy said
gravely.
'Well, Sister Kate,' Will said, turning his attention,

'now that you've seen the old place, would you like
to live here?'
'I'd absolutely love to,' she replied.
'Well, the foxes are a menace. They get a few stragglers
that will perch outside the pens. There's a few
good Jerseys here for milk and cream. Do you milk,
Sister?'
'I do now,' she said.
Finally, laden with vegetables, the MacLeod
family, including Kate, left Poitrel. The new mare
went with them, and David watched her with his eyes
glued to the back window of the truck.
'You'd better let me handle her for a while, Davie,'
Andy said. 'Most racehorses have only two paces walk
and gallop. She'll need a bit of education. That
is, if you plan to ride her. We'll have to see how she
handles the hill country. She's a big mare and I doubt
she would be as good on her feet as our horses. Your
mother will worry like hell if I don't try her out first.'
'I haven't thought what I'll do with her, Dad. You
know best. It would be handy to be able to ride her.
Perhaps we could put a good stock horse or quarter
horse over her.'
'That would be my way of thinking. We certainly
won't have any spare money to play about with thoroughbreds
for the next few years. They cost a mint.
But she's a bonzer mare and a proven winner. She
could breed anything, and her stock should be worth
a fair bit.'
David's face was all smiles. It seemed to him that

the day had been almost perfect. They had ridden all
over Poitrel, with the entertaining Will in tow,
lunched on the highest part of the property, and
brought back with them to High Peaks the fastest
mare in northern New South Wales - and she
belonged to him. To him. The fastest mare in the
north and one of the fastest in all Australia belonged
to him.
That night at dinner Andrew and Kate discussed
the logistics of taking on Poitrel.
'A man would be an idiot not to take it on Will's
terms. I just wish David was a few years older,'
Andrew said.
'Andy, I've said I will help all I can. Coming up
here has given me a whole new outlook on life. There
is a real challenge here. There's something elemental
about these hills. I need this change just as much as
you need Poitrel,' Kate replied.
'And we can't wait to have you, Kate. You must
treat both places as your home. If this Poitrel deal
goes through - and I can't see why it won't - and
you decide to live there, there would be no rent and
the power and phone bills would be paid out of the
station account. We will make you a legal shareholder,
but don't expect any return on your money
for some time.'
Kate couldn't wish for more than that.
The next morning, Anne decided that she would
accompany Andy to see the bank manager. David
hated going to town so he opted to stay at home with

Kate. Together they stood at the front steps and
watched the utility head off down the road, carrying
both their hopes with it. They knew they were on the
threshold of a new and exciting development.
'I hope there aren't any problems with the money,'
David said.
Kate put an arm about his shoulders. 'You and me
both, Davie. I sure do want to move up here. I'm
busting to have a go at those campdrafts, and I want
to buy a horse I can call my own.'
'Dad says that Angus Campbell will be fit to be
tied when he learns about us buying Poitrel. He'll
never believe we could afford it. He's made no secret
of the fact that he wants the place. He'll be nearly as
mad about me getting Ajana. He's never had a horse
as good as her.'
'You and I are going to have a lot of fun over the
next few years. Maybe I'll even learn to work a sheepdog.
I couldn't have two better teachers. Now, what
are you going to do today?'
'Aw, not much. Mum said I have to hang about the
house while she and Dad are away. I might give Lad a
lesson and I might trim Ajana's feet. Save Dad a job.'
'Right, then. I'll see you back in the house when
you're ready.'
Later, they did all the chores earlier than usual so
there would be nothing left: to do but run the cow
and calf in when Anne and Andrew arrived back from
town. Kate could sense the excitement building up in
David.

Aunt and nephew stood together when at last the
utility came up the road and through the front
entrance of High Peaks. There was no smile on his
father's face and David's spirits slumped dramatically.
Kate gave his arm a squeeze and they went down the
steps of the verandah to help carry in the groceries.
Beyond his usual greeting Andy said nothing.
'Have a good day, David?' Anne asked.
'Mmm. Kate made me a chocolate cake,' he
replied.
'She will spoil you rotten,' Anne said.
'Well, I'd better go and get changed and do a few
jobs,' Andy said.
'They're all done, Dad,' David said. He was dying
to ask what had happened at the bank, but he
couldn't bear to be told that they had been turned
down. Behind his back Anne winked at Kate.
Andy walked away a few steps and then turned
and looked at his son.
'I can see that you're busting to know how we
went at the bank,' he said.
David just stared up at his father, his eyes wide
open in anticipation.
'We got the loan,' Andy said quietly.
David let out a whoop. 'Does that mean we own
Poitrel now?'
'I reckon it does. I've already rung Mr White from
town and given him the news. Our solicitor is
drawing up the contract right now. We have a lot to
do, Davie boy.'

'You beauty! Just as well it's school holidays.
What's first?'
'I'll have to ring Gil Henderson tonight and see if
he'll give me a pen for his Queensland run. He used
to kick off early February, so we've got about a month
to get things sorted out. I've asked Will if we can go
ahead and put in some gates on the back fence, and
that's a goer. I'll have to draw up a programme for
you three to work to. By the way, Davie, your Aunty
Kate is now a shareholder in High Peaks Pastoral
Company.'
'What does that mean?'
'It means she's a part owner. It also means she can
give you orders until you're old enough to take over.'
'You mean it?'
'I mean it. If you do silly things while I'm away,
she can whomp you, too.'
Kate winked at him and David knew that everything
was going to be all right.
Gil Henderson was very pleased to hear from Big
Andy MacLeod that night. 'There's a pen for you
whenever you want one,' he said. 'I thought you had
everything worked out over there.'
'We've bought the next-door property, Gil, and
I'll have to find some extra money to keep things
going. I don't know how many two-hundreds are in
me these days, but I'll keep your fellows honest.'
'I reckon you will,' Henderson said. He had seen
Andy shear 260 in a day at Blackall.


The month sped up, and when the MacLeods took
delivery of Poitrel on February second, Andy,
although the calmest of men, found it hard to maintain
his composure. They had almost doubled their
land with this acquisition.
They all went over to farewell Will and Gertie and
to install Kate in her new home. By an amazing coincidence,
not just one but two vacancies had cropped
up at the local hospital and Kate and a young woman
who had been a student nurse with Kate in Sydney
got the positions. Sister Jean Courteney was looking
for a place to live, so Kate suggested that she stay
with her at Poitrel for the time being.
'You know you'll be welcome to come back any
time, Will,' Andy said. 'You can stay with us at High
Peaks, or with Kate. Kate is one of the family and of
the same mind.'
'Thank you, Andy,' Will muttered. It seemed that
for once he found it difficult to say much more.
'Thank you for Poitrel and for Ajana, Mr White.
We'll look after them both,' David said.
'I know you will, young fellow. And I'll be thinking
of you a lot. You write to me and tell me every
time you win a dog trial or a draft. Promise?'
'I promise.'
'I'm not a man to say much, Will, but believe me
when I say we all appreciate what you've done for us.
Nobody here will ever forget it,' Andy said.
'The bush needs people like you and yours, Andy.
I am pleased to help you on your way. Yes, by gum.'

All eyes followed the red utility as it turned out of
the gate and on to the road to town. Anne couldn't
help but shed a tear as she wondered if she would
ever see that kind man again. When the ute disappeared
from view, they made their way back inside
the homestead.
Jean Courteney was waiting for them. The
MacLeods had taken an instant liking to her, and she
was glad to have such a warm family around her. She
had had an unsatisfactory marriage and was now
divorced. Like Kate, she was keen on animals and
prepared to help out on the property wherever she
could. Jean was fair-haired with hazel eyes, and she
had a willowy figure that never seemed to show
fatigue.

The day before Andy was to leave for the Queensland
shearing run, he took David aside for a serious talk.
'Davie, I don't have to tell you that I wouldn't be
leaving here unless I had to. It's not something I'd
planned on doing. You'll have to do a lot more work
with me away. That includes always keeping your eyes
open. Watch the stock at all times. You'll have to do
a fair bit of riding at weekends and in the holiday
periods. Pay strict attention to troughs and windmills.
Never go out without fly-dressing and shears. Now,
ten to one something will go wrong sooner or later.
That can't be helped, because you can't be home here
and at school, too. You'll have to cut back on the dog
trials and drafts while I'm away.'

'Can I work Lad at the local trial?'
'You'll have to sort that out with Mum and Kate.
I'll give you a tip. They both love you a lot, but don't
take either of them for granted. Know what I mean?'
'I think so, Dad.'
'That's the ticket. In a few years you'll be able to
drive yourself, and then you can trial and draft to
your heart's content. What we've got here is a matter
of priorities. The dogs and horses will be here when
we've paid for Poitrel and you'll also be in a far better
position to go away . . . Follow me?'
'Sure. I'll be just as happy looking after the two
places anyway.'
'That's the boy. And there's something else. I
don't want you killing yourself with work while I'm
away. With what Kate has given us and some extra
money from the bank, we can afford to pay for a bit
more labour. I don't want you busting yourself trying
to crutch at weekends and then going back to school
completely stuffed. If we need a man to help us, or
a couple of crutchers, we'll employ them. Okay?'
'Dad, I'll only crutch and shear anything that
really needs it.'
'Good. I've drawn up a programme for you to
follow. The main things to watch are water, drenching,
lambing and calving. And, of course, the flies. If
you've got any doubts about the stock, call the stock
inspector. I've had a word with him and he knows
the set-up. I think you'll find that he'll drop in every
now and again. Don't hesitate to get Mum or Kate

to call him if you think anything is wrong with the
stock. Don't do anything silly with the horses. Stick
to the ones you know you can handle. Don't ride the
big chestnut mare in the hills. She's okay for poking
about the cows, and you could ride her from here to
Poitrel by road but not up Yellow Rock. Now, about
high school - how are you finding it?'
'Aw, all right, I guess. There's more kids and more
teachers, and a lot more sport.'
'Do your best, Davie. I know you will.'
'Don't worry about us. We'll manage.'
'I know. I have a lot of faith in you.'
'Thanks, Dad. I wish you didn't have to go, but
I know you do.'
There were tears in Anne's eyes when she kissed
her husband goodbye. 'I'll miss you an awful lot, you
know,' she said as he held her close.
Andrew nodded. 'I hate like hell to have to go but
there's no other way.'
'Promise me you won't overdo things trying to
ring every shed. Let the younger shearers do that.'
Anne and David stood together at the bottom of
the steps as Andy MacLeod drove away for the
Queensland shearing sheds. Andy's departure would
leave a big hole in Anne's life: they had lived and
worked together as closely as any couple could. Anne
knew that Andy had never looked at another woman
from the day he had met her, and she was sure he
never would.
Although David wished that his father did not

have to go away, he welcomed the extra responsibility
that had come his way. If he didn't have to go to
school during the week, he would be the happiest boy
in the country. The teachers and some of the kids
took a lot of putting up with, as they had no idea of
what his life entailed.
He sighed and then put one arm around his mother's
waist. Anne's eyes were still fixed on the road
down which her husband had driven.
'We'll be right, Mum. You've got me now.'
She bent over and gently kissed the top of his
head. 'Thank God for that,' she said.

In town, the cat was out of the bag. The news that
the MacLeods had bought Poitrel had spread. Angus
Campbell was ropable, not just because he had missed
out on the land but because Will White had chosen
Andy MacLeod over him. What's more, the MacLeods
now had under their control the best lot of
thoroughbred mares in the district. He was under no
illusions about that. That old fool White did know
thoroughbreds. And he had also given his top mare
to young David. Angus appreciated that he had never
bred a mare as good as Ajana, and he knew for a fact
that a six-figure offer had been made for her. If the
MacLeods wanted to race her locally, she would wipe
the floor with everything else. And what was David
doing with her? Riding her about to look at cows?
A mare worth six figures being used as a stock horse.
It was incredible.

The whole set-up was unbelievable. The question
was on everybody's lips: How could a kid and two
women run over 7000 acres of range country? It was
ridiculous.
































Chapter Fourteen





The next few years were very tough for the
MacLeods. They were years of constant effort for
Andrew, Anne and David, and Kate threw her weight
behind the others, too. They were years that saw
David develop from a boy to a young man, the transition
beginning the day his father drove out of the
driveway at High Peaks away to the shearing sheds of
Queensland. David followed his father's example
every way he could in the management of the two
properties. He revelled in the extra responsibility and
in the extra stock work, which was meat and drink
to him.
At sixteen, David was as big as his father - perhaps
three inches over six feet, and with shoulders the
width of a door. He was, according to all the local
girls - and especially Catriona Campbell's bosom
friend, Susan Cartwright - the best-looking boy in
the district. But David still showed little interest in

girls. He was diffident about saying much at all, but
no boy at the high school took him lightly.
Despite preoccupation with weekend work at
High Peaks and Poitrel, David had worked Lad in
two local trials and broken in one of his sons. This
son David considered to be the best dog of all three
that he had owned. His name was Nap.
At the first of the two local sheepdog trials he had
entered while his father was away, David won the
Novice with Lad and ran second in the Open, beaten
by a point by an experienced border collie. Although
his father had always taught him to cast a dog to the
head of sheep, in the Open Trial he hadn't done that.
The sheep were walking into a westerly wind and he
thought Lad might stop short and thereby lose casting
points. So David cast Lad around to the right, and
by the time the dog got around, the sheep were well
off course and he had lost several points for it. He
learned that day that he simply had to have more
confidence in his dog.
The following year he did win the Open with Lad,
but, tragically, a fortnight later the dog was killed.
Lad used to love to sit with his head through the
horse yard while David educated a young horse. The
tragedy happened when one of these horses kicked
backwards and split Lad's head open. David looked
down at his faithful friend, whom he knew was dying,
and felt as if his heart would burst. Lad was the first
dog he had won an Open Trial with and he'd been
his loyal companion for the past five years. He

remembered his father's admonition about losing his
heart to a dog, so he kept his grief locked up inside.
Even Anne was not aware that Lad had died until
several days later. David laid him to rest alongside the
dog's father and carried on his training with Lad's
son, Nap.
High school was just as much of a trial for David
as primary school had been, only more so because he
was away from home longer each day. Sport was compulsory,
and although he had asked his mother several
times if he could be excused, she always turned him
down. She felt that David should have a normal education.
He had more to do at home than any other
boy in the district, and she did not consider it fair
that he should have to work while other children were
playing. She knew that David wasn't keen on sport,
but it was an important part of his education. He had
his own sport, whip-cracking, at which he was now
considered to be without equal. He appeared as a
guest turn at almost every travelling 'Wild West' show
staged in the district.
David had developed a reputation as a young man
not to be trifled with on any account. He could crack
two whips simultaneously and could cut leaves in two
with both. By the time he was fourteen, he was able
to use a ten-foot whip with ease, although he preferred
shorter whips for exhibition work. One feat was
to cut a single leaf from a tree. His twice daily exhibitions
at the local show always pulled in a big crowd.
And when he asked for volunteers to hold things forhim, there was usually a rush of girls anxious to be
noticed by him. David practised constantly and was
always adding new things to his routine.
School subjects bored him to tears. He hated
mathematics and loathed algebra. He found them
totally irrelevant and a complete waste of time. The
only lesson he really liked was Australian bush poetry.
He came to memorise every bush poem he read, but,
to his regret, there was not much time devoted to the
likes of Henry Lawson and Banjo Paterson.
There was continuing argument between himself
and his mother over what he should do after Year 10.
Anne - and Kate, too, for that matter - felt that he
should stay the extra two years so he could get into
a course such as agricultural science - just in case
things didn't work out for them on the land. But
David said that it was silly for him to stay another
two years when there was so much to do at home.
During the four years since Catriona Campbell had finished primary school, she continued her schooling
in Sydney. David saw her very seldom, perhaps only
four or five times while he was at high school. After
one of her rare visits home, Anne remarked that
Catriona grew 'prettier and prettier', but David was still
indifferent to Catriona, and her looks.
Despite her enforced absence from David,
Catriona still seemed to be anything but indifferent
to him. She was also aware that she faced competition
from Susan Cartwright. Not that the Cartwright
family was any more keen on a liaison between their

daughter and David MacLeod than the Campbell
family was. Both families had much grander matrimonial
plans for their daughters.
One Sunday morning towards the end of David's
final week of Year 10, he was driving some cows and
calves along the road from High Peaks to Poitrel.
They were still building cattle numbers at Poitrel,
having culled some of the poorer quality beasts they
had inherited with the property.
A grey utility was coming down the other side of
the road. It was travelling very fast, too fast by far for the gravel surface, and much too fast in the presence
of stock. David immediately recognised the vehicle
and the two men in it. The one driving was Bill
Missen, and the other was his younger brother, Wade.
The ute made no attempt to slow down as it drew
closer to the little bunch of cows and vealers. A white
faced steer vealer plunged sideways from the mob and
the ute slammed into it and didn't even try to stop.
There was no way that the driver could have failed
to realise he had hit the vealer. David cantered his
horse to where the poor vealer lay injured on the road.
He realised with desperation that there was no way
he could save it.
David pulled the dying calf off the road and saw
the mob into the nearest paddock. It was only half a
mile or so on to the Poitrel homestead which was his
destination. Kate was working in the vegetable garden
and she rested one foot on her spade when she saw
David riding up the driveway.

'Can you drive me down to the Missen place,
please? And would you also bring me the .410 from
the house?'
'David, what's the matter?'
'You'll see,' he said.
'Do I need to change my clothes?' Kate asked.
'No, I just want you to drive.'
'Pull up here for a moment,' he said when they
reached the stricken calf. He took the gun and shot
the animal in the head, then cut its throat with his
stock knife so that it would be bled by the time they
returned. He hated losing good calves, whatever the
reason, but to lose one to two hoons like the Missen
boys was simply not on.
'Right,' he said. 'On to the Missen place.'
The Missen property was a few miles past Inverlochy
on the road to Merriwa. David knew Roy Missen
slightly, as he had accompanied Andy to the Missens'
property on horse business on a couple of occasions.
Roy was acknowledged to be a decent fellow and a good
worker on his place, but his two boys were wild. They
had been in trouble with the police, and many people
thought that it was because Roy had been too easy on
them. Bessie Missen thought her boys could do no
wrong, and because Roy loved his wife he went along
with her.
Kate parked the Falcon at the front steps of the
homestead and David picked up his whip and got
out. 'You want any help?' Kate asked, pointing to the
gun.

David gave her a tight grin. 'I hope not. Roy's a
decent fellow. He won't want to see his boys cut
about.'
'Is that what you're going to do?' she asked
anxiously.
'Only if Roy doesn't pay for the vealer,' David
said.
He turned and walked up the steps. The butt of
the whip applied to the front door made a fair enough
clatter to rouse anyone.
When Roy appeared, David said pleasantly
enough, 'Good morning, Mr Missen.'
'Hello, David. What can I do for you?'
'I've come to get a cheque from you for a steer
calf.'
'What did you say?' Missen replied sharply.
David repeated his request and Missen frowned.
'Would you mind explaining that?'
'About half an hour ago, Bill and Wade drove past
me on the Poitrel road where I was shifting a mob of
cattle. Bill was driving like a maniac and he hit one
of our vealers, which I had to destroy. They didn't
stop, although they knew what they had done, so I
want you to pay for the vealer.'
'You do, eh? Well, what if I don't?'
'Then I'll flog your two boys until they can't stand
up any more. We aren't busting our guts to pay off
a property so your boys can get away with killing one
of our animals.'
'Now, hang on there. You can't go about the

country threatening that sort of thing. I won't have
it,' Missen said heatedly.
'Then you should teach your boys to respect other
people's property. If you don't believe what I'm
telling you, get them out here and ask them yourself.'
'Bill, Wade, get out here,' Missen thundered.
The boys emerged from the house looking
anxiously towards their father and the grim-faced
young giant holding a coiled whip. David MacLeod
had a fearsome reputation with his fists, but an even
more fearsome reputation with stockwhips. Their eyes
dropped to the roo-hide whip which he held loosely
in his right hand. Then their glances took in Kate
leaning against her red car.
'Did you fellas drive past David while he was
driving cattle this morning?' he asked.
Bill and Wade dropped their eyes and Wade licked
his lips nervously.
'Well, did you?' his father demanded.
'Yes, Pa,' Bill answered.
'Did you hit one of his vealers?'
'Well, we weren't sure, Pa,' Bill said.
'You weren't sure? Did you stop to make sure?'
'No, Pa,' Bill said for both boys. Wade couldn't
tear his eyes away from the whip in David's hand.
'David says you were driving too fast, hit a vealer
and kept going. If that's what happened, there'll be
some evidence of it on the utility. We'll go and have
a look,' Missen said.
David followed the three Missens down the front

steps and around to the back of the house where the
grey Holden utility was parked under a big old gum
tree. Blind Freddie could have seen the smashed front
light and the red hair adhering to it. Roy looked from
his sons to the tall figure of David MacLeod. His
mind went back to the last district show when he had
seen this young man do things with stockwhips that
he had not imagined possible. There was little doubt
that David was quite capable of giving Bill and Wade
a flogging. The MacLeods were like that: nobody ever
messed with Big Andy, and from what Roy had
heard, David was going to be even tougher.
'How much are you wanting for the vealer?'
'Market value for a steer vealer. Same as you'd get
for one of yours. No more, no less.'
'Come up to the house and I'll give you a cheque.
Bill, Wade, wait here. I'll be back to talk to you
shortly.'
Roy went into his office and wrote out a cheque
for the dead calf. David glanced at the figure, nodded
and put the cheque in his pocket. Missen held out
his hand and David shook it.
'I'm sorry about your calf, David,' he said, sounding
genuine.
'So am I, Mr Missen.'
'You're a hard young fella, David. Anyone ever tell
you that?' Missen said, looking up into David's
serious face.
'No, but nobody has ever killed a calf on me
before. I hope for your sake that Bill and Wade never

do anything like that again. Good morning.'
Roy watched the tall young man as he walked
down the front steps and out to the red Falcon. You
had to hand it to him - he was only a boy in age yet
he was more of a man than most.
Later that day, Kate took enormous pride in
recounting the details of her morning to Anne. David
had only given her the bare details when he had
handed over the cheque. Anne decided to let the
matter drop. But a week or so later there was an even
more dramatic confrontation involving her son, and
this time Anne was a spectator. School had finished
for the year and Anne was taking David to town to
have him fitted out with new clothes. He had virtually
grown out of his others. They were driving along the
main Merriwa-Cassilis road when they came upon a
droving plant. There was a long line of sheep feeding
out down the road and a droving plant stationary in
the shade of a few box trees. David's eyes flicked
across the scene and locked on to something that
made his blood run cold. 'Quick, Mum, drive over
there. See, where those men are.'
'David, what is it?' Anne asked in alarm as she
spun the car off the road towards the plant.
'Don't you see?' he said grimly.
He bent to the tool box on the floor and took
from it a pair of fencing pliers. There were two whips
on the seat beside him and he snatched them up and
was out of the vehicle before it had even stopped
moving completely. He was half conscious that

another vehicle had pulled up behind them. Just then,
Anne gasped as she saw what had attracted her son's
attention. Her breath caught in her throat.
Hanging from the branch of a tree by a length of
fencing wire was a thin black and tan kelpie. A noose
of wire was around the dog's neck and it was slowly
choking to death. The dog's tongue was abnormally
swollen and it was making terrible gasping sounds as
it fought for breath. As if this was not enough for the
dog to endure, one of the three men near the plant
was belting it with a piece of stick. Anne felt physically
sick.
David shouldered the dog's tormentor to one side
and, holding the dog up with one arm, he cut the
wire just above its head. It was a good kelpie head,
despite its fearfully distorted eyes.
'Hey, you, what the hell do ya think ya doin' with
that dog?' the drover yelled at him. The man
advanced towards David with his stick. The next
moment he stopped dead in his tracks as his right ear
exploded in white-hot agony. David recoiled the
right-hand whip and looked across at the three men.
One was a boy, perhaps his own age but nowhere
near his size. David didn't reckon he would interfere.
The head drover, the one who had yelled at David,
was of medium height and thick build and had a very
red face. He had been wearing an old wide-brimmed
hat which now lay on the ground while he nursed his
ear. The man was very bowed in the legs and looked
as if he had never done anything but ride horses. The

third man was younger, probably in his mid-thirties.
His skin was very brown and he looked capable
enough, although not formidable.
David glanced down at the choking dog at his feet
and then across to the other dogs lying nearby. They
were all pathetically thin, with hipbones jutting out
sharply from their skinny frames. Their coats were
turned up and they looked as if they had never had
a decent feed in their lives. Cold anger ran right
through David. He had never felt such fury in his life.
'You mongrels don't deserve to own dogs. What
the hell do you mean by treating a dog like that?'
he asked venomously, provoking the men to try
something.
He was aware that some bushmen killed cull dogs
by strangling them with wire, and that some even
used hanging to get control of 'hard' dogs. Such
methods horrified him and filled him with contempt.
'What would you know about dogs, sonny?' the
head drover said sarcastically. 'You're still wet behind
the ears. I've had dogs all my life and I know how to
handle the buggers. If a dog won't do as he's told,
you've got to show it who's boss.'
'Most of the time it's morons like you who are at
fault. You're not a dog man's bootlace. The condition
of these animals is a disgrace.' He could see the
gasping dog out of the corner of one eye and thought
that there was a chance the kelpie might survive if he
could get it to the vet's in a hurry. He sure as hell
wasn't going to leave it with these creeps, but he did

have to be careful how he extricated himself from the
situation.
The younger man stepped towards him with a
menacing look in his eye and David let him have it
with his left-hand whip. The man howled blue
murder but was only aggravated even more, so David
let him have one on the other ear. They were the
softest blows he could deliver, and were designed to
intimidate rather than cause real injury.
David's assailant collapsed on a log, gripping his
agonising ears. He was down but not out.
'Listen to smart arse here telling me how to handle
my own dogs. What would you know?' he continued.
'More than you ever will,' said a quiet voice
appearing from behind.
David turned and saw Roger Cartwright standing
at his side. His sister, Susan, was back next to Anne
by the car. But this was a different Roger Cartwright
to the boy who had been a couple of years above him
at primary school. In those days Roger had been the
school wimp. The children had nicknamed him Blub
because he broke into tears so easily when picked on
for being overweight. The Roger who stood before
David now was several inches shorter than him but
very powerfully built.
'David MacLeod is the best handler of dogs this
district has ever seen. You wouldn't be fit to be
spoken of in the same breath,' Roger said. 'David,
you need any help?'
Roger's powerful figure beside him was immensely


reassuring. He turned back to the three men at the
plant. 'That all depends on these apologies for stockmen,'
he said caustically. 'I'm taking this dog with
me. I'm going to report you to the police, the RSPCA
and the Pastures Protection Board, so you'd better get
some decent tucker into those other dogs. I hope they
fine the tripe out of you. If I ever run into you again
and find your dogs in the condition they are now, I'll
flog the daylights out of you. If you think I'm talking
through my hat, ask this man beside me,' David said.
Then he bent down and picked up the kelpie and
carried it across to the utility, where he laid it on a
bag in the back. When he turned around, Susan was
beside him.
'You were terrific, David,' she said and gave him
a dazzling smile.
'I'm sorry, Susan, I haven't got time to talk now.
The vet's - quick, Mum! Thanks for your support,
Roger. I hope I'll see you later.'
Anne had stood transfixed while all this was going
on. If she had not seen it for herself she would never
have believed it. It seemed only yesterday that David
was just a little boy, but she knew that she could not
have stopped him today.
'David, I can't believe what you just did,' she said
as she started up the motor.
'Mongrels, that's all they are. Fancy treating a
kelpie like that. They're earning their living from
animals and they know nothing about them. You see
their other dogs? People who use animals ought to be

licensed and have their animals subject to inspection.'
He looked through the back window and noted
that the dog was still lying as he had placed it but
now seemed to be breathing a little easier.
As David and Anne drove away, Roger took out
his notebook and wrote down the number of the
drover's truck.
'What are ya doin' that for?' the head drover asked.
'My father's on the local PP Board. I'm going to
report you for cruelty and neglect of your animals.'
'Aaah.' The sound that came out of the drover's
throat was not something that could be interpreted.
'Clean up your act here,' Roger continued. 'Those
dogs are a disgrace. They don't have to be in that
condition to work sheep.' And with that advice, he
turned and left.
Roger had a soft spot for David MacLeod. David
had been one of the only boys who had never made
fun of him at school, and on a couple of occasions
he had actually defended him.
When David and Anne arrived at the vet's, David
explained what had happened and stood by while the
kelpie was being examined. Eric Chalmers was recognised
as a good vet and he had known David since
he was a small boy.
'He looked at last gasp when I cut him down,'
David said.
'You got him just in time. I think he'll be okay
but his throat has been damaged and he may not bark
normally for some time, if ever.'

'We'll call in and see you before we go out, Mr
Chalmers. If the dog can be taken away, we'll take
him. Don't let anyone else touch him.'
'What will you do with him, David?' Anne asked
as they drove up the main street to the clothing store.
'I think I'll give him to Kate. She wants a companion
dog. Should have had one before now. After what
he's been through, that dog should appreciate a bit of
love and attention in a good home. He'll look a new
animal with some decent tucker in him.'
So that was how Lucky came to live at Poitrel. Kate
said he had to be named Lucky because he was so
damned lucky to be alive. After a few lessons from
David, Kate soon had Lucky under control. The dog's
biggest drawback was his bark - or, rather, lack of it.
It was more of a high-pitched yip than a bark, but he
became a very good guard dog and always warned Kate
and Jean when a vehicle turned in at the front gate.
Kate and Jean had settled in very well at Poitrel.
They shared the jobs, and after Jean learned to ride,
either one or both of them would ride out and inspect
the sheep and cows. This took some of the load off
David's shoulders. The long-neglected flower garden
became Jean's responsibility, while Kate concentrated
on the vegetables. Kate taught Jean to milk, too. Jean
told Anne that living at Poitrel gave her a kind of
freedom and happiness she had never previously
experienced. She said it was as if she belonged to
something worthwhile.


Chapter Fifteen





The day after David had brought Lucky to Poitrel,
Andy arrived home from New England. The shearing
run had started way out in western Queensland and
finished in the cooler northern tableland area. Andy
sat and listened in growing admiration as Anne
recounted David's exploits. But Andy's obvious interest
in his son's achievements did not disguise the fact
that he had aged a lot during the past year. His once
dark-brown hair was now almost totally grey, and he
had lost a lot of weight.
'Are you all right, love?' Anne asked.
'Just a bit tired, old girl,' he said. 'It's been a long
year.'
'You'd better take it easy for a while. We're managing
well.'
'Maybe I will,' he said. 'Maybe I will.'
That admission was in itself a source of concern
for Anne because Andy had never taken it easy. But

after a couple of days of riding about the properties
with David, he seemed a little brighter.
There followed a week of stormy, humid weather
and the flies became very troublesome. They began
striking the ewe lambs and Andrew suggested to
David that the best course of action would be to shear
them.
'No need for you to touch them, Dad. I can
whack the wool off them.' David had become a
reasonably proficient shearer over the past few years
and could manage eighty to ninety sheep a day
quite comfortably. It was still a long way below
Andy's tallies, but David had never been away to
the sheds to develop.
'We'll do them together, mate,' Andy said. "I
don't want you busting yourself all the time.'
So the next day the pair of them yarded the ewe
lambs and began to shear them while Kate swept the
board and picked up the wool.
About halfway through the next run David looked
up and saw that his father had not emerged from the
catching pen. He carried on with the lamb he had
started and then crossed the board for another sheep.
What he saw in the pen made his heart stop dead.
His father was down on his back with a strange,
twisted look on his face.
'Kate,' David called at the top of his voice.
She was in the wool room putting a wool pack in
the press.
'Kate, in here, quick,' he called again.

'What is it, David? What's the matter?'
'It's Dad,' he said, pointing at the catching pen.
Kate ran into the pen and dropped to her knees
beside her brother-in-law. 'Where does it hurt, Andy?'
she asked.
Andy tried to answer her but no words came out
of his mouth. One hand crept towards his heart and
then flopped back. Kate looked at his face and felt
alarm race through her.
'What is it?' David asked. Kate saw the worry in
his eyes. This was a new experience for him. He had
never seen his father stricken with any kind of sickness.
Andy had always seemed to be built of iron.
'I think your dad has had a stroke,' she said. 'We
need to get him to hospital very quickly. First we'll
have to get him onto a bed of some kind. Is there an
old door or something in the shed?'
'There's a camp bed in the feed shed,' he answered
quickly.
'Go and get it, but first run and tell Anne I need
her. Don't tell her why. I don't want to panic her.'
David charged out of the shed, told his mother
that Kate needed to see her, and raced back to the
feed shed for the old wire-mesh camp stretcher. By
the time he returned to the catching pen - now
emptied of lambs - his mother was kneeling with
Kate beside his father. He noted the concern on the
women's faces, especially Anne's, as she held on to
Andy's hand.
David put the camp bed down on the grating floor

and, between the three of them, they lifted his father
onto it. They carried the makeshift stretcher out
through the wool room and down the back steps of
the shed before they laid it down. 'Wait here and I'll
back the ute across,' Kate said. 'We'll put a mattress
in the back and, Anne, you'll have to ride with Andy
and keep the sun off his face.'
Anne took David's hand and pressed it. 'You stay
here, darling. I'll ring you at two o'clock,' she said.
David nodded. 'Is it very bad?'
'We won't know until we get Dad to hospital.'
After the women had left, David began to think
about the implications of what life would be like if
his father had had a stroke. If Andy could not work,
he could not go away shearing, and if he could not
shear, that would mean a lot less money coming in.
That was a real concern.
Before she left, Kate had asked him to ring the
hospital and warn them that they were coming.
'Don't look so alarmed, David. Andy will be in
good hands,' Kate had said as she left.
But David was alarmed. After he had rung the
hospital he tried to carry on shearing, but it didn't
seem to be the same place without his father alongside
him. Andy's presence back on High Peaks had
reminded David just how much he had missed him
over the past three years. Would things ever be the
same again?
David continued shearing until nearly one o'clock,
at which time he returned to the house for lunch. He

made a meal of cold meat and salad and boiled the
jug for tea. Just after two o'clock, exactly as expected,
the phone shrilled beside him.
'Is everything all right?' he asked straightaway.
'Not exactly. I'm sorry to say that your father has
had a stroke, a severe stroke.'
David's heart stopped. How could this be? Sickness
was something that happened to other people,
he thought. He had hardly had a sick day in his life,
and neither had his father. He just could not envisage
Andy laid low. There was nothing he hated so much
as visiting people in hospital, and to know that his
father was lying there now was shattering.
David didn't know how to reply, but finally
managed to utter the words, 'Oh no. Should I ring
anyone and let them know?'
'No, dear. We'll wait a day or two before we do
that. Kate is coming back to get you and bring you
to the hospital. She'll probably stay with you tonight
as I won't be coming home.'
'Righto, Mum.'
David didn't like the sound of things at all. His
mother wouldn't call him to the hospital unless his
father was real crook. Maybe he was going to die and
had asked to see him one last time. What a thing to
happen. His father had always seemed indestructible,
yet there was no doubt he had looked a lot older and
wearier since he'd arrived back this time. Andy had
worked like hell to stay the top shearer, but look what
it had cost him.

David went across to the dog yards and let Nap
off his chain. The shorn lambs went back into their
old paddock and the woolly sheep were let out into
a small holding paddock. The other dogs had a run
before they were fed. It was a bit early to run the calf
off the cow so he brought them up to the horse yard
and fed them some hay. He could take the calf off
when he got back home later. Then he fed the fowls
and collected the eggs. There were some broken eggshells
in one pen and he reckoned a goanna was on
the go again.
Kate arrived back at four o'clock.
'How is he?' David asked as soon as she came into
the house.
'He's not well, I'm afraid, Davie. He could be
worse, but he's bad enough. He's had a major stroke
and his right arm and leg are affected, and his voice
is just a croak at this stage.'
'Why would Dad have had a stroke? He's not old
and he's as strong as a bull.'
'Even bulls break down, you know, and they aren't
subject to stress like we humans are. Andy has pushed
himself hard all his life,' Kate explained. 'He's also
had his fair share of worry. It gets you down in the
end. Now, I must tell you, there is a fair chance that
your dad will return home a semi-invalid. He could
also have another stroke, or a series of strokes, which
could finish him. It's no good me trying to pull the
wool over your eyes. You need to know the complete
picture.'

'We're lucky to have you, Kate,' he said.
Kate knew David was being sincere. He always was.
'I consider myself lucky to be here,' she said,
putting an arm around his shoulders.
The drive back into town was probably the most
miserable trip David had ever made along the familiar
road, and the sight of his father in intensive care did
nothing to improve his state of mind; it just depressed
him even more. He had never before seen anyone
connected to so many tubes. Surely it couldn't be his
father lying there so quietly.
Andy's eyes were open and they flickered momentarily
when David came into the room and stood
beside the bed.
'Hi, Dad,' he said.
There seemed to be the vestige of a smile on his
father's face but no sound came from his mouth.
David did not know what to do next; everyone
around him was speaking in whispers. The place
seemed unnaturally quiet. He couldn't just stand and
look at his father as his mother was doing. All he
could think of was his father on the back of Jess or
Gloss or Cecil Miss, or working Ben and King.
Presently Kate took Anne's place beside the bed
and Anne led David outside.
'I wanted Andy to see you, David,' she said. 'I
thought it might help to keep him going. There's
nothing more you can do here. Kate will take you
back shortly. Jean will look after things at Poitrel.
She's on duty here and Kate has spoken to her aboutit. I shall probably be staying here for some days, at
least until we see what happens. If Dad improves we'll
be able to bring him home. Until then, you and Kate
need to look after each other. You will be all right,
won't you?'
'You know I will, Mum. Don't worry about me.
You stay with Dad and let me know how things are
going. I can look after things at home. If I had my
licence I could come in each day, but that's not far
away now.'
After dinner that night, David and Kate sat
together on the wide verandah and looked out across
the moonlit countryside. Away in the distance they
could hear a fox yapping and the mournful cry of a
mopoke.
'We are going to have to look at where we're
going, Kate,' David said after a long spell of silence.
Kate looked across at him. It seemed to her that
just as he had grown up so rapidly when Andy went
away shearing, he had within these last few hours
matured just as much again.
'What do you mean?' she asked.
'Now that Dad is sick he won't be able to shear.
He's going to be right out of the picture, work-wise.
I could probably get a bit of local shearing and
crutching but I'm not a fast enough shearer for the
big runs and, in any case, I can't leave here for long
spells. There's too much to do. If the wool price was
higher, things might be a bit different, but as things
are, we are going to be a fair bit down on money.'

'I've been thinking about that, too,' Kate said. 'If
I put my wages into the kitty and you did a bit of
local work, I think we could manage.'
David shook his head. 'We wouldn't expect you
to do that, Kate. What would you live on?'
'I don't need much, not here. I have meat, milk
and vegetables, and the station pays the bills.'
'Well, if we went that way, we would have to
increase your share in the company. But let's wait
until Mum comes home and thrash it around then.'
Kate nodded her agreement.
'I'll bet things liven up around here when the word
gets about that Dad's sick,' David said.
And he was right. As soon as the news flashed
around the district that Andy MacLeod had had a
stroke and was in hospital, the phone started to ring.
The wives of near neighbours sent cooked meat, cakes
and biscuits. It was a job getting away from the house
for the callers, and Kate, who was staying at High
Peaks, said that she had a full-time job keeping the
kettle boiled.
The most significant of these visitors was Angus
Campbell, who arrived unexpectedly with Catriona in tow. The Campbells, especially Angus, had been
rather cool towards the MacLeods ever since they
received word that Will White had sold them Poitrel.
But Angus could never forget what David had done
for Catriona in the past.
'Is David home?' Catriona asked as soon as she
made her way up the front steps.

'Yes, but he's on the phone,' Kate replied.
A look of relief swept over Catriona's face with the
news that David was actually in the house. So many
times he hadn't been.
'Will you come in?' Kate asked. She noted the
basket Catriona was carrying.
Angus nodded. 'Can't stay too long. Just wanted
to deliver this basket of things. Thought it might
come in handy, what with Anne spending so much
time at the hospital. And if there is anything at all
we can do to help, please just let us know.'
'How thoughtful of you, Angus,' Kate said. She
was still trying to come to terms with the extent of
the goodwill flowing into High Peaks. It was quite
incredible.
At that moment, David came through to the
lounge from the office. Kate noted the quick glance
Catriona threw in his direction. If she had been
expecting any special welcome, she would have been
disappointed because David did not oblige.
'Hello, Mr Campbell. How are you, Cat?'
Catriona was surprised by the change in David's
appearance. He was now taller than her brother Stuart
and he moved more athletically.
'I've come to offer our help, if you need it,' Angus
said without preamble.
'That's very good of you, We've been overwhelmed
with kindness. It really means a lot to us.
I think we'll be okay. Kate and Mum and I can
manage things at the moment.'

'How's Andy?' Angus asked.
'It's too early to say. The doctors say he could
come out of the stroke with either marginal or
permanent damage, and there is also the serious
concern that he could have another stroke.'
'Never thought Andy would go down like that,'
Angus said. 'He seemed so indestructible. Makes a
man think about things.'
'When you've worked as hard and for as long as
Andy has without a break, I would say that a stroke
is not too unexpected. Now he's paid the price.'
'Quite so, Kate. Well, David, and how are things
going with your animals?'
'I've been too busy to do much competition work
outside the local trials. I'm sorry to say I lost Lad and
now I have a son of his called Nap. I think he's the
best dog I've handled. Quite the best. Very brainy.
Some of the big kelpie studs have been trying to buy
him. The money they're offering is fairly staggering.
We've also got a very good, young blue bitch, and
she's the best we've had for years. She has a short tail
like a lot of Dad's good old dogs of the past. Both
these dogs could win good trials if I could just get
the time to work on them. How are yours these days?'
'Not too bad. I did breed a few fair dogs by the
imported fellow. But if I ever decide to import
another dog, I'll go over and select it myself.'
'Good idea,' David agreed.
'What about the horses? Did you do anything with
Ajana?'

'We mated her to an Abbey horse and got a very
nice filly foal. She looks a beauty. We missed her the
following year and then mated her to a Bobby Bruce
horse. She's carrying that foal now.'
'Hmm, it's a pity you haven't mated her to a top
thoroughbred, David. She's too good a mare not to
get a thoroughbred from.'
'We aren't racing people, Mr Campbell. Even if
we were, the fee for a real top stallion would be out
of our reach right now. We can sell all the good stock
horses we can breed and handle on Dad's name
alone - and for far less outlay.'
'Look here, David, I would be prepared to come
to some agreement with you on Ajana. I'll pay the
service fee for a half-share in any foals. If they were
good enough, I'd race them in Sydney.'
'I'll think about it. I know that Mr White would
like to see Ajana bred to thoroughbreds. I wouldn't
mind trying to breed something that could run.'
'Do you ever see Will these days?'
'Once a year or so. He seems to be keeping quite
well. Gertie watches him like a hawk and she's got a
fair bit of weight off him.'
Catriona wished her father would stop talking and
let her speak with David. He had changed so much
over the past few years. Apart from his size, he had a
very confident manner. He was also extremely
handsome, and she was frustrated that he didn't show
any interest in her. He was about the only boy she
had met who didn't. She was also concerned about

Susan's interest in him. Susan was very keen on him,
and Catriona knew what some girls would do to get
the boy they wanted. Catriona was really worried that
Susan would ask David to take her to the next ball.
Catriona had her heart set on David escorting her to
the ball, but did not feel she could mention it while
his father was so sick. But he was such a good catch,
especially now he had two properties behind him. She
knew what her father's plans for her were, but
Catriona knew that the boy of her choice was in the
room with her right then.
'Have you got the Ajana filly close by?' Angus
asked. 'I'm looking for another horse for Catriona and
she might fill the bill. Can I have a look at her?'
'I haven't broken her in yet. We were late getting
Ajana bred the first year, so she isn't two years old yet.'
'That's all right. I'd still like to see her. The cross
of bloods sounds interesting, and if you say she is a
beauty, she must be up to show type.'
'The filly is with her mother in the paddock below
where you drove in. It's not far. Will you come,
Kate?'
'No, I think I'll stay here, thanks. I'll put the kettle
on and have smoko ready for you when you get back,'
she said.
Angus glanced across at Catriona, who nodded
almost imperceptibly. 'Thanks, Kate.'
They walked past the shearing shed and down to
what David called the foal paddock. It was fenced
with wooden posts and split timber rails rather than

barbed wire, and must have involved an enormous
amount of hard work to build it.
There were half a dozen mares and three younger
horses running in the paddock. Ajana stood out for
her colour and markings but there wasn't much in it.
Every mare was of a wonderful type. Perhaps the best
of the lot was a bright bay filly with as sweet a head
as Angus had ever seen on a horse.
'Is that the Ajana filly?' he asked, pointing towards
the bay.
David nodded. He slipped through the fence and
walked towards the little mob of horses. Ajana and
the filly came right up to him and he put his hand
in the mane of the younger horse and led her back
to where Angus and Catriona were sitting on the
fence.
'She won't take much breaking-in. I can catch her
anywhere. Mind you, I've handled her since she was
foaled. And her mother is a great-natured thing.'
Catriona stroked the filly's silky neck while Ajana
rubbed her head up and down David's back.
'These your shop-window lot?' Angus queried in
his peremptory way.
'Not really. We don't breed from many mares and
only keep the very best. We picked a few mares from
the lot Mr White left and mated them to stock-horse
stallions. They were good types with nice natures and
it seemed a pity to waste them. We can't supply all
the enquiries we get.'
'Is that so?'

'We could sell ten good broken-in horses right
now and, frankly, I wish we had them to sell. The
problem is getting the time to handle them. But dogs
are my main interest. I'd like to spend more time on
them. I'd like to have a spell at mailing, but it looks
as if I'll have to put that off for a while. If Dad doesn't
come good, I shall be tied here for some time.'
Catriona had the perfect solution. In her mind,
she fantasised that if she and David were married, she
could handle the horses while he concentrated on the
dogs. The only problem was that David didn't appear
to be the slightest bit interested.
'Can we come back and have a look at this filly
when you break her in? And I'd be interested in
looking at anything else you have for sale. I need a
good horse myself,' Angus said.
David pondered this change in attitude. Angus
had never before shown more than lukewarm interest
in their horses. He wondered if Cat had had anything
to do with it.
'Sure. I don't know that I'd be keen to sell this
filly, and she'd need a fair bit of work before I could
tell if she'd make a show horse. There are some others
that are fairly good. I particularly like a black colt
running over at Poitrel. He has the size to make a
good show horse. He moves like a dream. There was
a chap here from Moree who took a great liking to
him. There's also a liver chestnut which could be a
likely type, but you really don't know what a horse
will be like until you've handled it.'

'Will you let me know when you have the black
colt handled?' Angus asked. 'And the chestnut?'
'Certainly. I haven't made a commitment to
anyone, but the Moree chap did like him,' David
said.
Angus and Catriona found it hard to believe that
David was still only a boy. He certainly didn't look
it any longer and he didn't speak like it either. What
he said always made very good sense.
'So are you actively breeding horses to sell?' Angus
asked.
'Yes, we are. We need the money. Some day I'd
like to keep my own stallion, but a top entire costs
big money.'
'Have you got one in mind?' Angus asked.
'There's a really good stallion up Rockhampton
way. Tim Sparkes owns him. The horse is a legend
up there. He's a freak sire,' David explained.
'Very interesting. Please don't forget that I'm
interested in the black colt, and what I said about
breeding Ajana to a thoroughbred.'
'I won't forget. What are you riding these days,
Cat?' David asked.
'I've outgrown all my ponies and have been riding
a polo mare of Stuart's. Dad's always said I should
leave getting a new horse until I finish school.
I wouldn't mind having a go at dressage but it takes
up a lot of time and you need a really good-tempered
horse.'
'Yes, dressage is time-consuming,' David agreed.

'I would never have time for it. Any time I get goes
into the dogs. Kate's doing more horse work, and she
loves it. We can't afford to employ anyone full-time
at the moment,' he added, as they walked back up to
the house. 'Dad used to break in all our horses. We're
all putting in as much as we can right now.'
Inside, Catriona took up her usual position at the
table next to David, a place she had reserved ever
since she'd first started coming to High Peaks. David
was polite enough but not overly friendly. It seemed
to Kate that he was keeping Catriona at arm's length.
Still, he was only a young man and maybe in a year
or two it would be a different story. She couldn't bear
to watch him neglecting Catriona. A girl like that
wouldn't wait around forever.
Kate often wondered about David. He was a lot
deeper than he appeared on the surface. Most people
regarded him as the dead spit of his father because
of his quiet demeanour, hard work and talent, but
Kate knew that David was deeper than Andrew; she
knew that he studied books on animal breeding and
read bush poetry in his room late at night, even if
he didn't talk about it. The stable upbringing that
Andy had been deprived of was evident in David's
character.
Catriona was furious with David. Her feelings for
him were fluctuating almost daily. His seeming
indifference to her presence brought tears to her eyes,
and she was extremely frustrated to be ignored. She
knew that she could bring most adoring young men

to heel by ignoring them for a period, but how could
she handle a young man who ignored her?
There had been a time when Catriona was able to
confide her innermost thoughts to Susan Cartwright,
but this was no longer the case since Susan had
become a competitor for David's affections. Catriona
had another close friend from Cassilis, Amanda
Nelson. The two often came together at social
gatherings, especially because Amanda had her eye on
Catriona's brother, Stuart.
'Amanda, I must say that David MacLeod is the
most maddening person I have ever met,' Catriona
told her last time they met. 'He walks around like
some kind of guru instead of a sixteen-year-old boy.
Even Daddy thinks he is simply wonderful. Can you
imagine him talking man-to-man with any other boy
David's age? Well, he may be a genius with animals
but he is a dumbcluck when it comes to girls. But
the thing is, I just can't seem to forget him. I have
always had this feeling for David. He has always been
there for me.'
'I wonder what your parents would have to say
about all this,' Amanda said.
'I wouldn't let them stop me. I know what I feel
for him, and nothing is going to change my mind.'
'Catriona! Do you know what you're saying?'
Amanda asked, shocked.
'Of course I do. And I happen to know that Susan
Cartwright has the same idea. Oh, Daddy would kick
and fight right to the end, but if he saw that he

couldn't win, I'm sure he would give in and make
the best of it.'
'You really think so?' Amanda doubted that Angus
Campbell would ever give in.
'I know Daddy very well. If I made him see that
I would much rather be with David than any other
boy I have met so far, I'm sure he would come
around. David is such a divinely genuine person. I am
sure he would never play around. Not like some of
the boys I know. David and his father are one-woman
men. That is what I want, a man who is going to be
for me and me alone. It's no good me thinking I can
simply forget David. I tell you, Amanda, one way or
another, I mean to have him. Oh, he makes me so
mad. He talks to me as if I'm his sister. I was going
to ask him if he would take me to the ball, but I
can't very well do that now with his father so sick.'
'And after that you will be back at school,'
Amanda reminded her.
'Yes, another year away from David. I have
thought about getting him to write to me. If I write
first, surely he'd reply. That might help keep his mind
on me.'
Amanda considered Catriona's suggestion. 'That
might be a very good idea. You could write and ask
David about the horses you looked at. If he answers,
you could keep the correspondence going.'
'Quite so. And, you know, his mother, Anne, likes
me very much. I think I'd have her support. I can't
wait to have my licence and a car of my own so I can

drive up to High Peaks without Daddy. All I hope is
that while I'm away some other girl doesn't grab
David.'
'What other girl would want to live in the hills
and take second place to dogs and horses?' Amanda
said with a laugh.
'Amanda, I don't think David would be like that.
I would be quite happy to forego the social merrygo-round
to be Mrs David MacLeod.'
If David was aware of Catriona's interest in him,
he said nothing of it. But Kate was aware of exactly
what was going on in Catriona's mind. She thought
that an outing or two for David would do him the
world of good.
But David continued on his way, oblivious to what
was going on around him. When Catriona wrote to
him from school some weeks later, he replied: The
horses are going well, as I am. Your father saw the black
colt and liked him a lot. David.
Catriona read the two sparse sentences and burst
into tears. It was as if David was deliberately going
out of his way to be indifferent to her. He had even
delayed contacting Angus about the horses until
Catriona was back at school. It was Stuart who
accompanied his father up to High Peaks to inspect
them.
Anne had come home for the day, although Andy
was still in hospital and far from out of danger. He
had passed through another period of crisis following
a second, though less severe, stroke just as they were

preparing to take him home. He was now being held
in hospital with no news of his homecoming
confirmed.
David had the two colts in separate yards when
Angus and Stuart arrived. David thought that the
black colt gave promise of being something
exceptional, but he was quick to point out that it was
too soon to assess his full potential.
'He moves very well and has a nice nature, but
he needs more time to develop. I reckon he needs
another year here.'
'Would you sell him, David?' Angus asked.
'You mean now?'
'Either now or I'll make a down payment on him
as a deposit and pay the balance when you reckon
he's right,' Angus said.
David shook his head. 'I won't sell him now. It
wouldn't be the right thing to do. I'll finish breaking
him in and then let him go for a while before I start
on him again. Maybe by next Christmas I'll be able
to tell you what's in him.'
'Does the same apply to the other colt?'
'I'd say so. Right now we're only guessing what's
in them. They're just not ready for you to take
away.'
Angus was disappointed that he had not been able
to close the deal, but he was respectful of David's
decision. He knew that David could use the money,
but he wouldn't sell the horse until he really believed
it was ready. Angus appreciated that if David gave

him the offer of either horse, it would be an offer too
good to refuse.
Angus had been right in thinking that the
MacLeods' money problems were far from over. They
had put virtually every penny they'd made on High
Peaks and Poitrel over the past three years into paying
off the money they owed Will White. The only
money they had taken out was for taxation purposes.
All of Andy's earnings from shearing before his stroke
had also been used to help pay Will. The two families
depended a great deal on Kate's nursing salary and
Anne's occasional teaching. It had been three years of
tough, unrelenting grind, during which money was only outlayed for real necessities.
Meanwhile, Andy had come home to High Peaks.
He had been weeks and weeks in hospital and was
now but a shadow of what he was. It tore at Anne's
heart to see him. He was on medication, and always
would be, and although the doctors had told her
he would improve, Andy would never be able to
do some of the things he had taken for granted.
Anne felt like crying when she saw him sitting quietly beside the fire in the lounge room or, if the
day was sunny, out in one of the easy chairs on
the verandah. At first Andy seemed very tired, but
gradually his old spirit reasserted itself and he looked
to Anne and David to keep him informed about
what was happening on the place. Within a fortnight
he was taking short walks, mostly to and from the
horse yards where he could watch David working.

Anne watched him like a hawk and never allowed
him to overexert himself.
Andy's stroke had affected David greatly because
he felt partly responsible: Andy had wanted Poitrel so
that David could have a better future. For the first
time since he was a very small boy, David did not
know how to behave around his father. Whereas his
mother adjusted with sensitivity to his father's
condition, he found it very difficult. Without a
response from his father, David could no longer
discuss with him the many things they used to. He
was both frustrated and remorseful at the sight of his
father sitting around for hours, but that was before
Anne and Kate began working on him with massages
and warm salt baths. They gave him simple exercises,
which they kept up until he was able to walk the
distance of the horse yards to the gate of the first
paddock beyond the dog yards.
David took heart at this small improvement in his
father's condition, but it still hurt like hell to know
that he would never be the man he once was. They
owned, or as good as owned, two properties, but his
father was now only half a man. It was a hell of a
price to pay for an extra lump of ground. David was
more pessimistic about his father's recovery than
Anne and Kate were. Anne, buoyed up by Kate's
insistence that Andy would improve, threw herself
heart and soul into improving her husband's
condition, both mentally and physically. She gave
him all the news of the area and outlined what David

was doing each day. So gradually some of Andy's fire
came back. To begin with it was more like a spark
than a fire, but Andy was too good a man to be laid
low for long.
Not long after David's altercation with the
drovers, he obtained his driving licence, and with it
the independence of driving himself about. As soon
as he had the licence, he began looking for local
crutching and shearing work to help the family out
financially. He was mostly well liked in the area, and
people who knew his father's reputation were keen to
give David a go, too. David tried not to resent the
time he spent away from home working, but he was
always aware of what he would rather be doing with
his dogs and horses, and he was always disappointed
by the fact that no matter how hard he worked, there
was never enough money coming in. The problem
was how they could get more.
And then, out of the blue, a solution presented
itself, but David would have to make the toughest
decision of his life.












Chapter Sixteen





David MacLeod, like his father, always had supreme faith in the working kelpie. And David, like his
father, also regarded the kelpie as heaven-sent for
Australia's wool industry. David dreamed from his early years that he would one day win the National,
Australia's greatest sheepdog trial, with a kelpie. He sought this prize not only because it would set the
seal on the quality of the MacLeod kelpies, but also in honour of his father, who had never been able to
work at the National Trials himself. Through all his family's trials and setbacks, the dream of working great kelpies at the National was never far from David's mind.
Bush dogs have anything but easy lives. The mortality
rate is high. David had the misfortune to lose some very good dogs over the years, each loss tearing at his heart a little more, as well as affecting his breeding endeavours. By the time he was seventeen

years old, the best dog David had ever bred was
Nap. Nap, a red and tan male, was a brilliant dog
with a great cast and a lovely way of shifting sheep.
He would work anywhere, and every sheepdog
handler who saw the dog said that without a doubt
he was as good as they come. David had won the
last local trial with Nap, and a couple of visiting
dog handlers had spread the word about the dog's
ability.
Just after David had turned seventeen, he received
the following letter in the mail.



'Jimbawarra'
Deniliquin NSW 2710


Dear Mr MacLeod,

You may be aware that I have a large kelpie
stud and send dogs all over Australia. I also
export a large number of dogs. The perpetuation
of my stud depends on my ability to maintain
the highest possible standards, and from time to
time I have purchased several top-quality dogs
and bitches. I believe that money is no object for
the right dog.

I am writing to you because I have received
several highly complimentary reports about your
kelpie Nap.I would be very interested in seeing this dog,
and if he is as good as I have been told,
I would like to purchase him for use in
my stud.

I would appreciate it if you would contact me
at your earliest convenience regarding this
matter.
Yours sincerely,
Bruce McClymont



David read the letter through twice and then folded
it and placed it in his shirt pocket. He was not a
person who made snap decisions where the sale of
animals was concerned, and this offer was too important
to take lightly. David had never considered
selling Nap - the dog was simply too good to part
with and too important for David's future plans. He
and Nap operated on the same wavelength. Nap
would never understand if he were sent away. The
more David thought about Bruce McClymont's offer,
the more he felt that he shouldn't sell Nap for any
price.
That night, he showed Mr McClymont's letter to
his mother. 'Why, David, what a name Nap has
made. You wouldn't be thinking seriously of selling
him, would you?'

'Under normal conditions, no. There wouldn't
be enough money in the world to buy him. But
you know how tight things are right now. Of course
it depends on just what McClymont is willing to
pay. When I think of what Dad did so we could
get Poitrel, I feel ashamed of trying to hold on to
Nap. I'm wondering if I could lease him for a
certain period, so that I could still get him back
later on.'
'That's a good idea, but you'd need to have it done
legally. I haven't any idea what this man is like,
although I do know that some dog people are anything
but honest,' Anne said.
'You're right, Mum. I'll make some enquiries, and
if people say McClymont is to be trusted, I might
put a proposition to him.'
'That's very wise, Davie, but I want you to know
that neither Andy nor I would push you into selling
Nap. We know how much he means to you. We'll
manage without you having to let him go.'
'I know, thanks. We do have pups on the ground
by Nap so I can go on with them. I did want to mate
him to Belle but she was too young last time. Nap is
important to me, but if I have to wait a bit longer to
get to the National, so be it.'
David talked with several of his father's old mates
and established that Bruce McClymont, though a big
seller of dogs, was an honest man who could be
trusted. A few nights later David sat down and
penned a note to the Riverina breeder.

'High Peaks'
Merriwa NSW 2329


Dear Mr McClymont,


Thank you for your letter and kind remarks
about Nap. We think he is a very good dog and
almost up to the top kelpies of the past.

I have considered your offer very carefully and
have decided that I would not consider selling
Nap outright as I have big plans for him.
However, I would lease him to you for three
years for the sum of $3000.

I wouldn't let Nap go sight unseen, so you
would have to come and inspect him. If he
is what you want, you could take him away
with you.

Nap is to be returned by you, in good condition,
three years to the day on which you take him.
Knowing the dog as I do, I believe you could
breed a lot of very good dogs by him over a
three-year period. If these conditions are
satisfactory, I expect I will hear from you
soon.
Yours sincerely,
David MacLeod

David had composed the letter after consultation with
his mother. Anne doubted that McClymont would
come at the $3000, but, as David pointed out, if they
didn't get a worthwhile lease fee, why let the dog go?
They could earn more than that from the pups Nap
would sire over the next three years.
A week later they received a phone call to advise
them that Bruce McClymont would be driving up to
High Peaks to inspect Nap, and if he was as good as
he was supposed to be, he would accept the conditions
set out in David's letter.
'I'll bet McClymont hasn't owned a dog as good
as Nap,' David said to his mother when she told him
about the call.
'Your father won't know what to say if this deal
comes off,' Anne said. 'He never got anything like
that money for the best of his dogs.'
'That was then and this is now,' David said.
'People seem to have a lot more money these days.
Trials are bigger affairs now, too,' he said.
'You had better get an agreement drafted up before
McClymont arrives,' Anne advised. 'You can't be too
careful. I shall tell Andy all about it. It might cheer
him up a bit.'
Andy had not been able to speak properly since
his stroke but he could hear perfectly well. Anne spent
several hours each day relating all the news to her
husband. David still felt uncomfortable conducting a
one-way conversation with his father. What he
wanted was his father's opinion, and he would get

frustrated when he could not obtain it.
Anne had taken him aside and had a few words with
him. 'David, it would be a big help if you told your
father what you proposed to do each day, and gave him
an account of the day's activities. Just because he's had
a stroke doesn't mean he's not interested in whether
there's feed in the hills or how the sheep look.'
'Okay, Mum. I guess I've been a bit shy of talking
to Dad.'
'I know, son. It's difficult for us all, adjusting to
this new situation. But don't forget that on the inside
Dad is just the same as he ever was.'
The year that had led up to his seventeenth birthday
had been a traumatic one for David. Now this
letter from the Riverina was yet another complex
consideration.
'I haven't given up my dream of winning the
National,' David told his mother. 'It will just have to
wait a bit longer, that's all. We need the three thousand
dollars. It's as simple as that.'
'David, that's a very tall order. No kelpie has won
the National since Athol Butler won it with Johnny,
and Dad always said that Butler was a genius.'
'Yes, and Johnny won it five times. That's proof
that a kelpie can do it.'
'But wasn't it Butler's handling that won those
trials?' Anne asked.
'No matter how good a handler is, you can't win
a trial like that without a very good dog that has been
well schooled. I know our dogs can do it. What they

have to do here is far tougher than anything they'd
face in Canberra.'
'But there are so many good handlers at those big
trials. You can put up a brilliant score and still not
make it to the final heat,' Anne said.
'If a fella has top dogs and can handle them, he
will win good trials sooner or later. I'll know when a
dog is ready to take to Canberra. Right now our first
priority is paying our way, and if I have to put off
big-time mailing for a few years in order to do that,
it isn't such a high price to pay for what we have
now.'
'I admire your outlook tremendously, David, and
I want you to know that Dad and Kate and I all think
it's very mature of you to let Nap go.'
Bruce McClymont came to inspect Nap a few days
later. It was a very steamy morning with the threat of
a storm in the air. David had been up since daylight
checking sheep. Flies were a problem and he had
ridden the bottom country looking at the ewes. After
breakfast he put a few wethers in the paddock above
the house and then cut off a mob and ran them down
to the yards. He reckoned McClymont would want
to see Nap work in the yards as well as outside.
The new Ford utility came up the road at about
nine-thirty a.m.; McClymont had spent the night at
the Federal in Merriwa. The utility was complete with
a very substantial mesh crate which was covered by a
double roof. In between, there was a layer of some
kind of material to cut down the heat, and the front

' of the crate was closed in so the dogs were protected from the cold air. There was also a thick chain and a padlock on the crate's mesh door. It was a very
professional set-up. David was impressed.
Bruce McClymont was a man of medium height with sandy hair and bright, hazel-grey eyes. He had a restless manner that had caused some of his neighbours
to dub him Mr Perpetual Motion.
'I'm looking for David MacLeod,' he said as he got out of the Ford. 'Am I in the right place?'
'Yes, this is the right place, and I am David
MacLeod,' David said, holding out his hand.
'You surprise me. I expected an older person,'
McClymont said.
'I started very young, Mr McClymont,' David
replied. 'Come with me and I'll show you Nap.'
They walked down the track to where the dogs were housed. Most of them were in their logs under the shady trees. David walked over to where the big red and tan dog was lying on top of his log. His head was between his paws and his eyes never left David's face.
'This is Nap,' David said as he unclipped the dog.
Come on, Nap, jump down. Sit.' The dog obeyed
immediately.
I've put some sheep on the hill behind the house. Dad reckons that when a dog can cast either way up this hill it's ready to take to a trial. Being hill-country sheep, their natural inclination is to get back to the hills after they've had a drink,' David explained.'Those six wethers have been grazed in the paddock
through that far fence. They want to get back to it.
I thought that would give you an idea of Nap's
strength and holding ability because they'll want to
keep breaking back up the hill.'
'Will he cast that far?' McClymont asked. 'It must
be a quarter-mile or more.'
David's smile was fleeting. 'Nap will cast a lot
further than that. All our dogs will run out of sight.'
David sat Nap about twenty yards behind him
and then sent him away to the right. Nap raced up
the fence, cleared the six wethers by about fifty
yards and finished right behind them. He stopped
there and waited while the wethers stamped their
feet and milled about. David leant against the fence
and watched proceedings with what seemed only
casual interest.
Then Nap edged forward a little and the wethers
turned away. One sheep broke out to the side and
Nap gathered him in neatly. In under five minutes,
Nap had the six wethers directly in front of them.
David had not given Nap a single command after he
had cast him away. Instead, he had sat on the log seat
his father had constructed years earlier and watched
Bruce McClymont's reaction.
'Can you move him around?' McClymont asked.
'Sure. Nap, back.' Nap moved from right to left
and stopped.
'Nap, behind.' This time Nap moved from where
he was back to the right, his original position.

'Is he as good in the yard as he is in the paddock?'
'Oh, I think so. He'll back all day but he's too
good to make a welter of that sort of work. All our
dogs will work in the yard and the shed. Our main
priority is outside work. Up here we often ride for a
week to pick up the last of our sheep. If our dogs
couldn't cast, and if they didn't have the right field
work, we would never get them. I've put some
wethers in the yard so you can see what he'll do.'
They walked down the hill to the wool shed and
its yards. David opened some gates and clicked to his
dog. Nap speared over the nearest fence and went in
behind the sheep in one of the forcing pens.
'Speak, Nap,' David commanded.
Nap let out a big bark which galvanised the
wethers into action. They shot down the long drafting
race and David sent Nap over their backs.
'Speak, Nap.' Nap barked again to push the
wethers tightly into the race and then came back
over the top of them. David then opened the gate
of the race and sent Nap up the side. He barked
through the race as he ran along the side. 'Up, Nap.'
Nap jumped onto the side of the race and balanced
himself on the rail. 'Speak. Stay, Nap.' Nap stayed
where he was but barked to urge the sheep down
the race.
'Anything else?' David asked, after Nap had dutifully
completed all his tasks.
'I've seen enough,' McClymont said. 'He's a lovely
dog.'

'He's not bad. I've taught him a few tricks, like
carrying a stockwhip in his mouth and jumping on
my back. I'll show you.'
He bent over and Nap jumped on his back and
sat there. 'Off, Nap.'
Nap jumped down and stood looking up at his
owner.
'Is there anything he can't do?' McClymont asked.
'Not too much. The thing is that Nap is a really
brainy dog. He uses his head. That's what I like in a
dog.'
'If I can breed dogs as good as he is, I'll be even
happier. Are all your dogs as good as he is?'
'Some of Dad's old dogs were better than Nap.'
'What about your bitches?'
'No difference. If they aren't good, we don't use
them,' David said simply.
'Will you work one for me?' McClymont asked.
'Sure. There's a young bitch here that hasn't done
much work yet. She wouldn't be twelve months old.
Her name's Belle. I think she'll be a good one.'
They walked back to the dog yard and David
clipped Nap up to his log. He walked down the line
to where a young blue bitch was tied to another log.
'This is Belle,' David said.
'She has a very short tail,' McClymont commented.
'And what is that funny mark on her
forehead?'
'You get both of those characteristics in our dogs.
They came in from the Quinn and King and McLeod

dogs. There seems to be more of both of those traits in our dogs than in anyone else's.'
'I'll put her on those same six sheep that Nap
worked. They should be okay for her,' David said.
Belle moved over the ground like a wraith. She
made no sound at all and she seemed to have the
sheep mesmerised. David moved away about six feet
and Belle moved about the same distance to bring
herself into line with him.
'Belle had perfect balance from the first day she
started working,' David explained. 'She's a real good
bitch in the making.'
'She looks a beauty,' McClymont agreed. 'As good
as Nap.'
'Better, in some ways, although she doesn't have
his strength and push. She is all class and would be
a great bitch on fast-breaking western Queensland
type sheep.'
'Would you sell her to me?' McClymont asked.
David shook his head. 'I'm sorry, no. Not to you
nor to anyone else. Belle is not for sale.'
'Put a price on her.'
'No, Mr McClymont, I won't. When you bring
Nap back to me I'm going to mate him to Belle and
breed a kelpie to win the National.'
McClymont looked at MacLeod in amazement.
Was this young fellow for real? Certainly MacLeod had
shown him the two best kelpies he had seen in a long
while, but surely he was having himself on now.
'No kelpie has won the National since Johnny's

last win in 1952,' McClymont pointed out.
'I'm aware of that,' David said. 'However, we have
the dogs here that can do it. You've seen two of them.
Have you ever seen any border collies any better than
Nap and Belle?'
'Now you put it that way, I haven't. The problem
is that kelpies don't seem to perform as well at trials
as they do at home. They get too stirry.'
'Mine won't,' David said calmly.
'One thing I can promise you - if you ever win
the National, I'll be there to see it. And I'll be offering
you more money for your winning dog than any
kelpie has ever been sold for and then some. Can I
order a pup from Belle?' he asked.
'You might have to wait a while. We may not
breed from her without Nap here, and I'd like to run
her at our local trial.'
McClymont had a sudden thought. 'Tell me, why
do you think you can breed your National winner
from Belle by Nap?'
David smiled enigmatically. 'Practical reasons, to
begin with, and my own intuition. Now, you'll have
lunch with us, won't you?'
'If it's no trouble,' McClymont replied.
'It's no trouble. My aunt Kate is with Mum today.
She's a director of the partnership and she's also a
nursing sister. She's been a big help with Dad.'
McClymont nodded in sympathy. 'It was tough
him getting hit like that. I was looking forward to
talking to your dad. I've heard the MacLeod name

mentioned ever since I started in this business. You
must have learnt a lot from him.'
'Everything I know,' David said. 'Dad is the best
dog and horse man in the district, and a fair way
beyond that, but I doubt he'll ever work a dog again.
Come on, let's go down to the house.'
When they had finished lunch, McClymont took
out his cheque book and wrote out a cheque for
$3000. David looked at it and then handed it straight
to his mother. Andy was sitting nearby, propped up
in a big lounge chair.
'This is the cheque for Nap, Andy,' she said.
Andrew looked at the cheque and his eyes
widened. He made a valiant effort to speak and, after
several unsuccessful croaks, they all heard him speak
the words, 'Good dog, Nap.' They were the first decipherable
words he had spoken since his stroke.
'Andy!' Anne said with a lovely smile. David had
not seen her smile much at all these past few months.
'Look here, David, I won't hold you up any
longer,' McClymont said. 'I want to be home in the
morning. We've got crutching coming up and there's
a South Australian chap coming to look at a dog.'
David and Mr McClymont walked back to the
kennels and David unhooked Nap to let him have a
quick run around before jumping him up into the
utility. He patted him on the head and then stood
back while McClymont closed and locked the door
of the crate.
'I'll look after him, David. When I bring him backhere he'll look just as he does now, barring accidents,
of course. You can never tell what will go wrong but
I'll sure do my best by him and watch him closely.
I've got plenty of dogs, as you know, so I won't work
the tripe out of him. I want Nap for a sire and to
show off to my clients. Have you any special advice?'
'Show him off in the open on a few wild sheep.
Nap should cast out of sight in your country,' David
said.
'Any hints on the breeding side?' McClymont
knew that for all his money and the name he had
built up for himself, what he lacked was MacLeod's
innate ability.
'It would be worth putting Nap back over his best
daughter before you bring him back. You could put
a son of that mating with a bitch from Belle and that
should give you a top breeding family. But don't sell
the inbred pups to anyone else. If the mating works,
you could get anything. You should keep them and
use them to stay on top.'
'I might try it. Never done a close mating like that
before. Never had a dog as good as Nap before.'
David handed him an envelope. 'This is Nap's
pedigree.'
'Thanks, David, I'll have him back here three years
to the day.'
'I'll expect you to. If you have any trouble with
him, give us a ring. Have a safe trip and good luck
with him. You might let me know how you get on
with him and how his pups are shaping.'

'I'll do that. It's been a real pleasure meeting you.'
He waved to Anne and Kate, who were standing
beside Andrew's chair on the front verandah.
'I sure hope your father improves. I would like to
have a yarn to him one day,' McClymont said as he
got into his car.
David watched him pull away. Nap was standing
at the back of the crate with his nose pressed through
the wire. He watched the dog until he could no
longer see him, a deep ache burning inside his chest.
He felt terrible about letting the dog go. Nap
wouldn't understand why he'd been sent away. And
what David feared most was that Nap would never
return. Snakes were deadly on dogs. Yet when he
thought again of how his father had sacrificed himself
so that the MacLeod family could have a more secure
future, it was small of him to feel guilty about Nap.
A bloke had to be a man about these things. His
decision had been made, and that was that. At least
McClymont would promote the hell out of Nap, and
his owner.
'He was a nice man, David,' Anne said as he
walked back up the steps to the house.
'Yeah, he seemed all right. Dad say anything
more?' he asked.
'Just a word or two,' Anne said. 'It's a start.'
David sat on a chair beside his father and told him
what he had done and where Nap was headed. When
he had finished, David distinctly heard his father say,
Good boy.'

Those words cheered him up a little. Andrew
had never been known to hand out praise lightly.
Although people always said that his father was a hard
man, they also said he was a fair one. David did not
want to be known as a hard man. A fair man and an
honest man, yes. But sometimes you had to be hard
to survive. He knew he had not done the right thing
by Nap. The dog loved him and he had sent him
away. Animals often suffered for humans; they were
regarded as expendable. Nap had trusted him and he
had let him down. It was as simple as that.
His father had once told him that he should never
lose his heart to a dog, but the problem was that Nap
was alive, and tonight - and every other night - that
good, brainy dog would be wondering why he wasn't
back at his log kennel. Life was damned hard.


















Chapter Seventeen





Life at High Peaks and Poitrel went on in much the
same way as it had always done. There were good
seasons, fair seasons and poor seasons, and High
Peaks Pastoral Company weathered the troughs and
moved closer to financial independence. The wool
market climbed out of its lethargy, the cattle market picked up, and the governor-general kicked out
Gough Whitlam in favour of Victorian grazier
politician Malcolm Fraser. For people on the land, it
was a time of rejoicing.
David had sowed fifty additional acres of lucerne
and was now able to make hay on both High Peaks
and Poitrel. Angus Campbell had the equipment for
haymaking, and his men cut and baled David's
lucerne. In return, David had taken the place of his
father in breaking-in the Campbell horses. Having a
shedful of good hay had been a real bonus: there were
always horses in feed, and in the poor seasons they

were able to utilise some of the hay to feed their cows.
Andrew had made a remarkable, although partial,
recovery. His speech had developed so that he could
speak in halting sentences, which often took some
understanding. He had also gained some mobility and
could even do odd light jobs, like feeding the fowls
and the dogs, but he did tire easily and he could not
use his right arm well. Still, as Anne said, he was
improving.
David seemed to take everything in his stride.
Andy's stroke put the kybosh on David staying at
school. He left at the end of Year 11. He never
wanted to leave the two properties, and except for
local shearing and crutching jobs - and the local show
and sheepdog trials - he almost never did. He had
worked Belle at the local trial and had won both the
Maiden and the Open Trials with her at her first
outing. His father had performed this feat three times
and David was the first person since his father to take
out the double.
The following year, David again won the Open
with Belle and scored 99 with her in the final - the
highest score anyone could remember being awarded
at that venue. When he came off the ground, his
father, who had been watching quietly from the sidelines,
clapped him on the back with his good left
hand. This was the first gesture of its kind from Andy,
and David felt that he was beginning to get
somewhere.
Bruce McClymont had written to David and

informed him that Nap had settled down quite well
and was receiving positive comment from anyone
who saw him work. One of Nap's sons had won a
trial at Narrandera, and several other of his pups had
been exported. Needless to say, Bruce McClymont
was over the moon when David told him how Belle
had done in the local trial.
Catriona Campbell had finally come home from
boarding school. She was now eighteen and an
extremely beautiful young woman.
One day not long after she had arrived back at
Inverlochy, she took a drive to High Peaks in the new
car her father had promised her. It was a yellow
Holden and she was very proud of it.
'Hello, Mrs Mac, Mr Mac,' she said as she pulled
up in the driveway. She greeted them warmly and
then kissed them both.
'Catriona, it's lovely to see you,' Anne replied.
'I heard that you were home. Finished with boarding
school at long last?'
'At long last. It seemed to go on forever,' Catriona
said.
'What are you going to do with yourself now?'
Anne asked as she scrutinised the girl. Catriona now
spoke, walked and behaved quite beautifully.
'I'm not sure. Daddy is keen for me to go to
university, but I don't fancy going just for the sake
of it. I should go because I really want to. I once
thought about doing vet science but my marks
weren't high enough. I may take a trip overseas and

see how I feel when I get back. Daddy suggested that
as an option, and I think it's a good idea to go before
I have too many other commitments.'
'I see. Where would you go?'
'Oh, Britain and Europe, I think. Daddy has
relatives in Scotland and I could stay with them for
a while. I'd like to have a look at the Western Isles
and the Scottish Highlands. Daddy said that he and
Mummy might come over and join me for a little while. I believe Daddy is thinking of importing
another border collie and he wants to see a trial or
two. By the way, where is David?'
'Out looking at sheep. He'll be here for lunch,
though. Can you stay? Would you like to come
inside?'
'I told Mummy I might. I thought David might
show me the black horse. I understand he's been
gelded. If I like him, Daddy will buy him for me for
a show horse,' Catriona said, looking out towards the
horse yard. 'Does he still think the black will make a
show horse?'
'You'll have to talk to David about his plans for
the horse. I don't interfere at all with that side of
things. David is more than capable. He hasn't put a
foot wrong since his father's been laid low.'
'Mrs Mac, I think Mr Mac is trying to say something,'
Catriona said.
Anne saw her husband signalling to her from his
big leather chair which had been placed on the front
verandah with a perfect view over High Peaks.

'What is it, Andy?' she asked.
'David ... black horse ... bottom paddock,' he
croaked.
'David has taken the black gelding down to the
bottom paddock where the breeding ewes are,' Anne
translated. 'What do you say we take a little walk and
see if we can catch him coming up the slope? Andy,
will you be all right here?'
Andrew gave a slow nod and a wise little smile.
'Okay, I'll go and get my hat,' Anne said.
Together Anne and Catriona walked out past the
horse yard and down the track that led to the front
gate. The track forked there and the left path led
down past the foal paddock to the bottom country.
It was a downhill slope all the way to the Inverlochy
Poitrel road. Once past the foal paddock there was
an uninterrupted view where a rider could be seen for
well over a mile.
'David shouldn't be long,' Anne said. 'He told me
he would be back for early lunch.'
'It's all right, Mrs Mac. I don't mind waiting.'
Catriona would have waited forever if she had
thought he was interested in her. What made it worse
was that somewhere, deep down, she felt that David
did like her - if only he would let on to her. There
had to be some reason for David's indifference and
she meant to find out what it was.
Anne took Catriona's arm and pointed down the
slope. She could just pick out a small black speck that
grew marginally larger as she watched.

'David's on his way. You'll see a great sight very
shortly. That black horse is really an eye-catcher.'
Catriona watched horse and rider as they came up
the slope.
'Did you ever see anything like the canter on that?'
Anne asked. The black horse was on a fairly loose
rein but moving with a slow, rocking canter just as if
he were parading for a judge in the show ring. He
had grown a lot since Catriona had seen him last, and
now looked magnificent. By the way the horse was
moving, David must have put in a lot of work on
him. She had never seen a finer combination.
'Isn't he splendid?' Catriona said with her eyes
aglow.
'Splendid,' Anne agreed, but it seemed to her that
Catriona's eyes were focused more on David than the
black gelding. And then in one easy movement David
was on the ground and standing beside them.
Catriona hardly recognised him.
'Hello, Cat,' he said casually.
'Hello yourself,' she replied. 'Do you know you
are still the only person who calls me Cat, mountain
man?'
'You will always be Cat to me,' he said. 'Why
aren't you in riding clobber?'
'What, you want to go riding? I thought you were
far too busy to devote any time to me,' she said and
nudged Anne.
'Do they teach sarcasm at boarding school along
with a swanky voice?'

'Sorry, David, but you never once asked me to go
riding with you.'
'Since when have I had to?'
'I don't go anywhere unless I am asked,' Catriona
said very firmly. 'Besides, as you may have noticed,
I am not a little girl any more.'
'I'm not blind, and I'm not asking you to go riding
with me. I asked why you weren't dressed to go
riding. I thought you wanted to try the black horse.
Your father has pestered the daylight out of me about
him. Anyway, to what do we owe the pleasure of your
company?'
'Who is being sarcastic now? And condescending?'
'Hey, you two,' Anne cut in sharply. 'You haven't
seen each other for months and you're sparring like
Kilkenny cats. David, when you've finished with your
horse, would you come up to the house? Catriona is
staying for lunch. Please don't be long.'
'Righto.' David walked off leading the black horse,
and the two women watched him all the way to the
horse yard.
'My goodness, David has grown since I saw him last,
and he certainly has his wits about him,' Catriona said.
'Never underestimate him, Catriona. He is very
much his own man. He's had to be. Come on, let's
go eat.'
After lunch - during which David had shown
more interest in what was on his plate than on who
was sitting beside him - Catriona asked if she could
have another look at the horse.

'Having second thoughts, Cat?' David asked.
'Something about him you don't like?'
'Not at all. I'd just like to see him unsaddled,'
Catriona said.
Anne looked at her from across the table and then
at her son. She was sure Catriona didn't want to look
at the horse - she wanted to get David on his own.
As they walked down to the horse yard, Catriona
turned and walked past the stables and on to the wool
shed.
'You won't find the black horse there, Cat,' David
said.
'I don't want to see the horse, David. I don't have
to. He's magnificent. I want to ask you something
else. It's a favour.'
'All this doubletalk to ask me a favour. "What is
it?' he asked bluntly.
'David, would you escort me to the Debutantes'
Ball?'
David looked at her as if she had asked him to
destroy one of his dogs. 'Why ever would you ask me to escort you to that kind of function?'
'Because I have known you longer than almost any
other boy. And, besides, I thought you might like to.'
'Is there something particularly important about
this ball? I mean, other than the fact that you and
some other girls will be coming out, or whatever the
term is?'
'It's a very big occasion for a girl. Why do you ask?'
'Susan Cartwright has also asked me,' he said.

'You're escorting Susan?' Catriona asked. She
couldn't believe it.
'No, I'm not. And I won't escort you either.'
'Why not? I don't have two heads, do I?'
'Don't fish for compliments, Cat. Your appearance
has nothing to do with it. I've no doubt you'll be the
best-looking girl on show. Susan won't be far behind.'
'Then why won't you escort me?'
'Have you discussed this with your family?' David
asked.
'No, not yet.'
'I thought not. Beats me what you learned at that
fancy boarding school. Let's get a few things straight.
You people - and that includes the Cartwrights move
in a different social circle to us. That doesn't mean I think we're inferior. The thing is, your parents
didn't send you away to boarding school for years so
that you would come home and ask David MacLeod
to escort you to the Debs' Ball. They would hit the
roof. Now, I understand that making your debut is
important for you, and it should be a very happy
occasion, but it wouldn't be if I was insensitive
enough to say yes to your invitation. So I am sorry,
Cat, but I must decline.'
'It's a pretty poor show when a girl can't have who
she wants as her escort,' Catriona said.
'I'm sorry, but the only way I would ever agree is
if your father invited me on your behalf - and that
he would never do.'
David, I've always got on very well with yourfamily, especially your mother. I do not consider
myself to be a snob. You were the first boy I thought
of to escort me to the ball. No doubt Susan had the
same idea.'
David shook his head. 'What you and Susan want
and what your parents will want will be very
different.'
'I am so disappointed. I had set my heart on you
escorting me.'
'Discuss it with your parents, Cat. We will, of
course, be there to see you make your debut,' David
said with a grin.
'Who will?' Catriona asked.
'Mum, Dad, Kate, Jean and me.'
'You are going?'
'Oh, yes. I'll be looking after Dad. He'll want to
be there but he tires easily these days.'
'You are beastly, David! You'll be there large as life
and yet you won't escort me.'
'There will be more than you to look at, Cat.
Quite a few pretty girls, I'm told.'
'If I had something in my hand, I would throw it
at you,' Catriona said. It was clear that David was not
going to escort her to the ball. Why does everything
have to be so difficult? she thought. At least he wasn't
going to escort Susan either, which was something of
a relief. And then she remembered the second reason
for her visit to High Peaks.
'Will you let me ride your black horse?' she asked.
'You mean now? In that dress?'

'Of course not, you ninny. I could come back
tomorrow.'
'I suppose I could stretch a point and let you ride
him.'
'Ha, very decent of you. Can I bring Daddy with
me?'
'You can bring anyone you like. What time
tomorrow?'
'In the morning, if that suits you. Say about ten,'
she suggested.
'Ten is fine. You going back to the house?'
'Yes, I want to talk to your mother.'
'Then I'll see you tomorrow, Cat. There's things
I've got to do here now.'
Catriona ran back to the house in high dudgeon.
Anne could tell that something was amiss. The usually
serene Catriona was close to tears.
'Catriona, what is it? Surely you and David haven't
been arguing again. Has he said something to upset
you?'
'I asked him to escort me to the Debutantes' Ball
and he refused. He said I should have asked my
parents.'
'Oh, you too,' Anne said sympathetically.
'So you know that Susan also asked David?'
'Yes, dear. David gave her the same answer he gave
you.'
'I suppose I have to be thankful for that. It would
have been the end if he had agreed to take Susan.
She would never let me forget it. Oh, Mrs Mac, I

had set my heart on David escorting me.'
'Did he explain why he won't escort you?' Anne
asked.
'Yes. But it's my night and I can't see why I can't
have the boy of my choice.'
'I'm sorry to see you so disappointed, but I must
say that I agree with him. Not because he's my son
but because I think he's right. Angus and Jane will
be expecting you to choose a boy they approve of.'
'It's ridiculous.'
'I understand what you must be feeling, Catriona.
I was a girl once and I recognise that your feelings
can override your commonsense. Either you and
Susan are engaged in some private feud over David
or you both like him more than you are letting on.'
'Oh, Mrs Mac, Susan is my best friend. I wouldn't
feud with her. I know she likes David a whole lot,
and that's that.'
'What about you, Catriona? Do you like him a
lot, too?'
'More than a lot. I think I'm in love with him.'
'Does David have any idea about this?'
'I'm never sure where I stand with him. He either
ignores me or does something madly heroic on my
behalf. I've had at least a dozen boys try to kiss me
and two proposals of marriage, yet David has never
so much as touched me.'
'Or, I should add, any other girl,' Anne pointed
out.
'How long can that go on? You know what men

are like and you must know what some girls will do.'
'Would you do anything for David?' Anne asked.
'If I knew he loved me, wanted me, yes I would,'
Catriona said.
'Oh, dear. I don't know what to say. But I do
know that David doesn't want to get married for some time. He wants to work his dogs at the
National. It's as if he wants to get that out of the way
before he begins the next stage of his life. You see,
Catriona, he really wants to win the National for
Andy. That means a lot to him.'
'You know him best, Mrs Mac. Do you think he
likes me at all?'
'Of course he does, dear. It's just that David isn't
ready to tell you. I realise it must be infuriating for you,
but I can only suggest that if you love David, you must
be prepared to wait for him. Do your parents have any
idea of your feelings for him?' Anne asked.
'I suspect Mummy might have some inclination,
but Daddy has other things in mind for me.'
'So if it comes to the crunch, what would you do?'
'If David ever told me that he loved me and
wanted to marry me, there would be no decision to
make.'
'You'd marry David against your parents' wishes?'
'I certainly would.'
'Do you think you'll feel the same way in a year's time or even three years' time? You might have to
wait that long.'
'I'm sure this is not just a crush, Mrs Mac. I've

always had feelings for David, ever since I was a child,
but what I feel for him now is something quite different.
But, please, you won't mention it to anyone,
will you? I don't want David to know about it.'
'It will be a secret between the two of us,' Anne
said, putting her arm around Catriona's shoulders.
'I must tell you that nothing would give me greater
pleasure than to see you marry David.'
'Really? That means a lot to me. Thank you.'
'There is one other thing, Catriona.'
'What is it, Mrs Mac?'
'I think it's about time you started calling me Anne.'
'Very well, Anne. I'll see you tomorrow. I'm
coming back to ride the black horse,' Catriona said
as she turned to leave.
'Good. I'm sure you'll like him.'
As Anne and Catriona walked out to the verandah,
Catriona stopped and said, 'Anne, you seem to know
a lot about the MacLeods' background. Would you
mind telling me more about it some time?'
'Not at all. Actually, I have it all written down. I
managed to get quite a bit out of Andy and I found
some records his mother had kept. I think it's important
to keep a family record, especially when the
history of that family can be traced back over a
thousand years. You must come to dinner one night
and I'll tell you everything I know.'
Anne stood thoughtfully on the front verandah
for a long while after Catriona had driven off. She
cherished the hope that David and Catriona would

one day come to love each other and marry, despite
opposition from Angus and Jane. She resolved to
speak to David about Catriona's visit for the following
day.
That evening, as soon as dinner was over, she
tackled him about his attitude. 'David, having delivered
one brickbat to Catriona today, I do hope you'll
be more friendly to her tomorrow, especially with
Angus in tow. You know you have disappointed her
deeply,' she said.
'Yes, I'll be nice to her. Angus, too. No brickbats,
perhaps a bouquet,' David said with a laugh.
Anne gave him a quick, critical glance. 'I'm not
sure that I like the sound of that. I do hope you're
not plotting some mischief.'
'I wouldn't call it mischief, Mum.'
'Hmm. Now you have got me worried. Please
don't do anything to get Angus off side, David.'
'I'm going to serve him up some of his own medicine,
Mum.'
'Oh, David, please believe me when I tell you that
it is not in your best interests to offend him.'
'He won't be offended by what I do tomorrow,
but he might be when Catriona tells him I knocked
her back for the Debs' Ball.'
'You should get the cheque from him before she
gives him that bit of news.'
'I'm sure I will. Cat won't tell him before tomorrow.
She wants that black horse.'



Chapter Eighteen





The following morning, Catriona arrived with her
father and she was fully decked out for riding.
'Morning, Mr Campbell, Cat,' David greeted
them.
Catriona gave him a quick glance, noting that he
seemed to be in high spirits today.
'Hello, David. How are you faring these days?'
Angus asked.
'Getting there, Mr Campbell. Prices are on the up
and the seasons are fair. The wool traveller told me
they reckon wool might go up a bit more.'
'So I've heard,' Angus agreed. 'Now, where have
you got this great horse?'
'In his stable. I didn't saddle him as I asked Cat
to bring her own gear. I've got the liver chestnut
saddled up for you to try, too, Mr Campbell.'
'Good heavens, I'd forgotten about him. What's
he like?'

'He's a nice-going horse and good on his feet. No
vices and you can cut out a beast with him. He hasn't
got the same class as the black horse but he's as good
as most going about. You don't have to take him if
you don't want him. I could sell him tomorrow.'
'What do you want for him?'
'A thousand.'
'I'll try him, David.'
'Okay, I'll get him and King while Cat's getting
her gear.'
'Is King what you've called the black horse?'
Catriona asked.
'If I were going to ride him in the show ring, I
would call him King o' the Night.'
'Where on earth did you dig up that name?'
Catriona asked, arching her long eyebrows.
'If you read the history of England and its legends,
you would find that the King of the Night is mentioned
before the Romans invaded Britain. I thought
King o' the Night would be a real good name for a
black horse.'
Angus and Catriona looked at him in surprise.
'I had no idea you were interested in that sort of
thing, David,' Catriona remarked.
'I'm pretty keen on a lot of English poetry.'
David went down to the stables and came back
with the two geldings. The liver chestnut was a nice
stock horse and would have taken a few eyes if
paraded on his own, but he was very much overshadowed
by King.

Angus walked around both horses while David was
saddling King with Catriona's gear.
'What is he, David? Sixteen hands?' Angus asked.
'A touch over, Mr Campbell.'
When the horse was saddled, David handed the
reins to Catriona and stepped away from the horse.
'King is very light in the mouth and ribs, Cat. So is
the chestnut, Angus. Take them out through the gate
to Creek Paddock and work them there. You'll find
a cleared ring where I work the horses. I'll open the
gate.'
The two horses stood stock-still as Catriona and
Angus mounted. 'Just a touch, Cat, and he'll go,'
David said. He walked alongside the horses and
opened the gate that gave them access to the first of
the hill country paddocks. Beyond this were the foothills
below Yellow Rock. There was not a cloud in
the sky and the rugged, scrub-covered peak stood out
starkly against the sky. It was a warm day, although
not as warm as it would be later.
David watched the two riders as they walked their
horses down to his work circle. Catriona was dressed
in grey riding trousers, a cream silk blouse and long
leather riding boots. Her brown eyes were sparkling
beneath her wide-brimmed grey Akubra. He thought
she looked a picture.
David sat down on a log and watched father and
daughter work out his horses. Catriona put King
through his paces, all of which he performed perfectly.
David didn't pay much attention to Angus;

lie just didn't have it as a rider, and the chestnut was really too good for him.
Catriona cantered back with a flushed face and a flashing smile. 'David, King is just great. What a canter he has. You could go to sleep on him. He's more horse than anything I've been on.'
'He's not bad for what he's done,' David said.
'You like him, Catriona?' Angus asked.
'I love him, Daddy. He's easily the best horse I've ever ridden.'
'How do you like the chestnut, Mr Campbell?' David asked.
'He's a good horse, David. I'd have to work him on cattle to get a really good idea of his ability, but he seems a smart horse.'
'I can soon run a few steers up. I'll show you what he can do and then you can try him out yourself.'
'No need for that, your word is good enough for the. If you say he'll cut out a beast, I know he will. He's better than anything I've got.'
David reckoned that was a safe bet. Angus was inclined to ride gentle horses and would let Stuart and his employees do the tough cattle work.
'So you'll take him?'
Here's my hand on it,' Angus said, extending his hand.
The chestnut is yours.'
Right. How much for the black horse?' Angus asked.
He's not for sale, Mr Campbell,' David said calmly.

Angus looked thunderstruck and he could see the
disappointment on Catriona's face.
David had waited years for the chance to get even
with the Campbells. They had presented his family
with a stud bull they couldn't afford and a damned
expensive saddle. He hadn't wanted a saddle for
helping Cat. He knew it had been generous of the
Campbells, but it just highlighted the fact that the
Campbells had the money to give such presents and
the MacLeods couldn't reciprocate. Well, now they
could.
'I understood that the black horse was for sale.
Look here, David, put a price on him. I promised
Catriona that I would try and get her this horse ever
since I first saw him.'
'I didn't ever tell you that King was for sale,'
David said.
'You led us on to believe he was. Why else would
Catriona have come up here to ride him?'
'Catriona came here to see if he suited her,' David
said.
'And he does,' Angus replied heatedly. 'She wants
him. I'll give you three thousand dollars for him. That
would be the best price you've ever been offered for
a horse.'
David shook his head. 'King isn't for sale. Not for
three thousand or thirty thousand. I wouldn't sell a
horse like this.'
Catriona looked stunned. It was as if she had seen
a vision of paradise and been blinded in the very nextinstant. She was even more astonished when she heard
David's next words.
'The reason the horse is not for sale, Mr Campbell,
is because I am giving him to Catriona.'
David looked with satisfaction at Catriona's disbelieving
expression and Angus's look of puzzlement.
Angus was a proud man who had the money to buy
the best livestock in the country. On this occasion he
had come up against a young man who could not be
influenced by his power to purchase. Angus knew that
if he accepted the black horse he would be beholden
to David MacLeod, and if he didn't he would devastate
his daughter.
'You're gi-giving me the black horse?' Catriona stuttered.
David nodded.
'Why?' she asked.
'You once gave us a very good bull that helped us
a lot. He was a much better bull than we could afford.
We've owed you for that.'
'Andy did a fair bit of work to pay for that bull,'
Angus said.
'He was worth five times the value of the work Dad
did for you. You also gave me a very expensive saddle.
You didn't have to do that and I certainly did not expect
it. This is my way of returning those favours.'
Angus and Catriona still looked stunned. Angus
had been going to offer an even lower price for the
chestnut, and now he was glad he hadn't. He would
have looked damned small.

David went to the gate and opened it. 'You'd
better bring your horse, Cat,' he said.
Catriona looked at him speculatively and then did
as he suggested. Angus followed suit.
They walked down to the horse yard in silence.
'Have you got time for a drink of tea?' David
asked.
Angus nodded. How could he refuse after what
David had just done?
After greeting Anne and the silent Andrew, Angus
and Catriona went into the bathroom for a wash.
Anne raised her eyebrows and David winked. She
thought he seemed very pleased with himself.
'Do you know what your son has just done?'
Catriona said as they sat down at the table.
'No. Is it safe to ask?' Anne said with a smile.
'He has given me his black horse.'
'Has he indeed? What a pleasant surprise. I can
honestly say I had no idea. What David does with his
horses is his own business. Cake, Angus?'
'Thank you, Anne. How are you, Andy?'
Andy raised his arm to indicate that he had heard
the question.
'Thankfully Andy is a shade better than he was,'
Anne responded. 'Catriona, have you got your Deb
dress yet?'
'Oh, yes. I've tried it on.'
'Who is escorting you to the ball, Cat?' David
asked with a glint in his eye.
'I'm not sure yet. The first boy I asked knocked

me back. I was so shattered that I haven't had the
heart to ask anyone else.'
'You've got a good horse to work now. That
should lift your spirits,' David said.
'Who the devil knocked you back, Catriona?'
Angus asked with his eyes flashing fire. 'Is he anyone
I know?'
'Yes, Daddy, but I don't want you to worry about

it.
Angus appealed to Anne. 'Can you give me any
good reason why a young fellow wouldn't want to
escort my daughter?'
'No, I can't, Angus. Not unless he has his eye on
another girl'
There was the same hint of devilment in Anne's
eyes as there was in David's as he sat eating his mother's
cake.
'I've got a daughter who looks like a film star and
she tells me a boy won't escort her! I've heard everything
now,' Angus continued.
'We shall be there to see you, Catriona,' Anne said.
'And I am sure you will look marvellous and that the
next boy you ask will escort you.'
'That's very sweet of you, Anne. It's just that I did
so much want this boy.'
'Speaking of boys, did you know that Bill and Wade
Missen are back?' Angus said. 'I was talking to Sergeant
Hooper and he told me that they've been at Nimbin.
They got into some trouble up there - drugs, I think.
Wade was charged but let off with a caution.'

Anne looked across at her son. The spark in his
eyes was gone and in its place was pure ice. She knew
well what David thought of the Missen boys.
'They've got some other fellow with them,' Angus
said. 'The three of them were drinking at the bottom
pub and got into a fight. Beats me how two nice
people like Roy and Bessie could produce two boys
like Bill and Wade,' Angus said.
'They're no good,' David said. 'Neither of them.
They're wild and there's a mean streak in Wade.
They'll come to a bad end. Better they stay away.
There's no telling what they might get up to.'
He got up and stormed out.
'Oh, dear,' Anne sighed. 'David sees red when you
mention that pair. If they so much as look at him
sideways, I am fearful of what he might do.'
'He would have a good ally in Stuart,' Angus said.
'Excuse me, Anne, Andy,' Catriona said and left
the room. As she went down the steps she saw David
leaning against the rails of the horse yard. His head
was down and he didn't notice Catriona until she was
standing right next to him.
When he looked up and saw her he gave a weak
smile. 'Sorry about that, Cat. You ready to load the
horses?'
'Ready,' she said.
'Good luck with King. He should keep you occupied
for a while. I shall be very disappointed if you
don't win a few Champion Hack awards with him,'
David said.

Catriona looked at him and focused on what he
had just said. Was there more to the gift of the horse
than appeared on the surface? What did David mean
by Catriona needing to be 'occupied'? Was he signposting
something further down the track?
After they had loaded the horses, Angus drove up
to the fence that surrounded the homestead. Anne
had come down the steps to have a last look at the
horses. Angus was at the wheel of the Fairlane and
Catriona asked him to wait while she said goodbye.
She kissed Anne on the cheek and then did the same
to David, this time allowing her face to rest against
his. As she looked past him she found Anne's eyes
fixed on her. Anne winked, and Catriona knew she
had an ally.
They had not driven as far as the bend in the road
when Angus spoke his mind. 'That young fellow outgunned
me. I never imagined I would see anyone
make a gesture like that. And Anne took it all in her
stride ... as if the loss of three thousand dollars didn't
matter.'
Catriona pondered what she should say next. She
realised that sooner or later her father would have to
know how she felt about David. But she would have
to tread warily and sow the seeds very gently.
'David is the boy I asked to escort me to the ball.
He is the one who refused me,' she said.
Angus put his foot on the brake and brought the
car to a stop. 'He what?' he roared.
'Steady, Daddy, we have valuable horses back there.'

'It was David you were referring to and you let
me make a fool of myself in front of the MacLeods?
Have you taken leave of your senses, girl? Why on
earth did he refuse you!'
'He said I had to ask you first.'
'The devil he did.'
'Susan asked him before I did and she got the same
answer,' Catriona said.
'Well, I'll be damned. Yet he's going to be there
on the night.'
'Oh, yes, David is definitely going to be there. The
whole family will be there, even Mr Mac'
'You should have talked to Jane and me before
you asked David to escort you. I don't know whether
I should be more angry with you or with that young
devil back there. David is a lot shrewder than I imagined.
And to think he knocked you back, and did he
use the gift of the horse to gain our favour? Not
David. Not David MacLeod. He has told us exactly
what he thinks of us. Damned if he isn't an infuriating
fellow.'
Angus was still running hot and the car was still
stationary. 'Did David elaborate on why he wouldn't
take you to the ball?' he asked.
'He said that he didn't want to be the cause of a
dispute between me and my parents. That and the
fact that he considers us snobby,' Catriona threw in.
'What? Damned cheek of him. Pure insolence. If
he hadn't given you that black horse, I'd go back and
tell him exactly what I think.'

'I wouldn't advise that. Apart from the fact that
David could handle you with one hand behind his
back, he is absolutely right. We are snobs. So David
isn't saying anything that's untrue.'
'Now, look here, young lady, there are people who
have to set high standards. Why do you think we sent
you and Stuart to private schools? I'll tell you why: it
was so you would have the class to marry well. If you
marry well, your children will have their futures
assured. I suppose David realises there are dozens of
boys who would fall over themselves to escort you.'
'I'm sure he does. That wouldn't worry him a bit.
He's his own man and will always do things his way.
You either accept him on his terms or you don't
accept him at all.'
'Catriona, I get the feeling that there is more to
this than meets the eye. Why are you defending him?'
'I've always been keen on David, Daddy. The
problem is that I've never known whether David is
keen on me. Not until I spoke with Anne yesterday,
and now there's this gift of King.'
'Don't talk in riddles, Catriona. Are you saying
that David is keen on you, too?'
'Not on the surface and not in so many words.
He's not ready to get involved in a romance yet. A
girl would have to be prepared to play the waiting
game if she wanted David, and it just so happens that
I think he is worth waiting for. I dare say that you
and Mummy won't agree, but there it is.'
'Catriona, you can do much better than David

MacLeod. Anne's a damned fine woman, none better,
and a smart woman, too, but she wouldn't entertain
sending David away to a decent school. Probably
couldn't afford to. That might have made a
difference.'
'I know he's not perfect, but he is a real man.
Straight and true. You should hear the stories I've
been told about some of the men you make me mix
with '
'That's enough of that, Catriona,' Angus cut in
sharply.
'Well, David would never be like that. A girl could
trust him to the ends of the earth. No other boy
comes near him.'
'I know some who are pretty decent,' Angus said.
'You think you know them. Anyway, time usually
solves most problems. I propose to accept David's gift
with thanks and to enjoy working him.'
'Your mother will want to know what we paid for
him,' Angus said. 'What do we tell her?'
'We could tell her the truth, but that wouldn't be
very wise. We could say that we have the horse on
trial for a few months. Or you could bend the truth
a little and tell her chat you worked a deal on
stock .. . say cows or ewes,' Catriona said with an
enchanting smile.
'That would be damned deceitful and very sensible,'
Angus agreed. He gave her a grim sort of smile.
But at least it was a smile.
'Of course, if Jane talked to Anne, our goose

would be cooked,' Angus said just before they arrived at Inverlochy.
'I'll have a word in Anne's ear,' Catriona said.
'Promptly.'
The idea of his daughter marrying David MacLeod
was preposterous to Angus Campbell. If Catriona was
serious about David, he would have to send her overseas.
That would fix her crush. By then she would be
ready to marry someone who could give her everything
she deserved. Even when the MacLeods finished
paying for Poitrel they wouldn't be top-bracket
graziers, and David definitely didn't have what it
would take to marry Catriona. Angus decided to say
nothing to Jane about Catriona's disclosure regarding
David. No sense stirring up an ants' nest when it was
likely to blow over in a few months' time.

King was ensconced in the best stable on Inverlochy.
Catriona rode him almost every day and soon started
him on more demanding work. She was determined
to win Champion Hack with him and so prove to
David that she was worthy of his handsome gift.
She was still upset that David would not be escorting
her to the ball. It would make so much difference
to have David alongside her. Apart from simply
wanting him as her escort, she wanted to try and get
David out more. She had to get him to mix and talk
with people who weren't only interested in dogs and horses. After much thought, Catriona decided to ask
Roger Cartwright to escort her. She knew that Susan

would be pleased, and Roger was a decent enough
boy. He was nowhere near as handsome as David and
was probably six inches shorter but still slightly taller
than herself. One thing in Roger's favour was that he
could be relied upon to behave reasonably throughout
the evening. Between Roger and Stuart - who was
escorting Amanda - she considered she would be well
looked after. As for David - well, he was a free agent
and would do as he pleased. But she would have to
keep an eye on Susan. Oh, what a night it promised
to be.























Chapter Nineteen





There was usually a capacity crowd for the Debutantes'
Ball. For many people in the district it was the highlight of the year. Other people preferred the Show Ball, which was a more egalitarian affair. For those who preferred the Deb there was something infinitely splendid about the evening: the spectacle of the district's finest young women being officially presented
to the world. The Deb was about as close to pomp as could be achieved in the bush, and parents of debutantes looked forward to the occasion.
Anne, Kate and Jean stood together and watched the ten white-gowned debutantes and their escorts come up to be presented to the town's mayor. It was a wonderful scene in the beautifully decorated hall. There were balloons, streamers and lattice arches entwined with crepe-paper roses and ivy. The pink and white theme transformed the hall so that one would never know that it was actually an old building.

Catriona and her mother had made several trips
to find the ideal gown. They wanted something
different from the usual taffeta, satin and tulle. They
had chosen a filmy chiffon over a satin lining, with
guipure lace for trimming. The gown was tightwaisted
with a flowy, gathered skirt. A swathe of
chiffon covered her back and shoulders, forming the
cape sleeves and modestly dipping like butterfly wings
to her bosom. Catriona's long blonde hair was caught
back and hung in ringlets. A slender gold chain and
locket around her neck and long white gloves were
her only accessories.
Anne, Kate and Jean all agreed that Catriona was
the belle of the ball. Although Susan Cartwright was
very attractive with her dark hair and flashing eyes,
Catriona really stood out.
David was sitting with his father and seemed to
be taking little interest in the proceedings, although
he was not ill at ease in what was such an alien
environment for him. He had been assured by his
mother that 'coming out' was an important
happening for girls of Catriona's social class, but he
felt it was just another piece of pomp and ceremony
of the kind indulged in by the likes of Angus
Campbell and his snobby set. He couldn't see any
significance in a girl being presented to the mayor.
She wasn't given anything or changed in any way by
the procedure.
Catriona, while exuding glamour and a sparkling
personality, was taking peeks in David's direction. He

had never seen her in such a setting and she was keen to gauge his reaction. But, as always, Catriona was
disappointed. David's eyes were occupied elsewhere,
although not with anyone in particular. David was in fact paying very close attention to Bill and Wade
Missen, whom he had noted in the crowd. Their
behaviour this evening seemed very odd. Every now
and again they would disappear outside and then
reappear a few minutes later in worse shape.
There was another young man with them, not a
local, and he was well dressed and seemed primed for
mischief. His face was vaguely familiar and David
tried to remember where he might have seen him. It
was most likely to have been at the local show. He
was making audible comments about the debutantes,
and Bill and Wade were laughing almost hysterically.
On one occasion Wade pointed towards Catriona and
the other two young men nodded and laughed.
At that stage David suddenly remembered Angus
talking about the Missen boys being mixed up with
drugs. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin
to tingle. He sensed trouble; it was in the air. He left
his seat and collected another beer for his father.
'That fellow with the Missens, Dad, you ever see
him before?' he whispered to his father.
Andy took a long, careful look at the bloke and
shook his head.
David looked up and saw that the man in question
was watching him. He was a fairly nice-looking young
man, of slim build and about the same height as

Wade, who was a couple of inches under six feet.
David turned away from the Missen boys and their
mate to dance. He was anything but an avid dancer,
but on this occasion he couldn't very well get out of
it. He partnered his mother first, then Kate and Jean
in turn, and as Susan was looking in his direction he
decided to ask her to dance with him, too. He reckoned
that would put him in Catriona's bad books.
David was just about to walk across to where Susan
was sitting when Catriona appeared at his side. She
was not backward in telling him just what she
thought of him for ignoring her throughout the
evening.
'Cat, you have plenty of admirers. They're all
falling over themselves to dance with you. You can
see me any old time.'
'That isn't the point, David. Tonight is special.
I expected you to dance with me.'
'I am,' he said, taking her hand and leading her
on to the dance floor with a mild grin.
'But I had to come and find you.'
'I would have looked you up, Cat. You had to give
Roger his money's worth. He escorted you. By the
way, who's the dark-haired fellow with the Missen
boys?'
'I don't know, but I don't think much of him. He
has been making some rather unseemly remarks about
the girls. Don't you know him?'
'His face is familiar. I wondered if he'd been at
the show.'

'Don't worry about those boys, David. They're
simply enjoying themselves. I suppose you'll have to
dance with Susan?' Catriona said.
'I suppose I will,' he agreed.
'One dance would be sufficient,' Catriona said.
'And then you could come back to me.'
David shook his head. There was some sort of
power play going on between Catriona and Susan and
he seemed to be stuck in the middle of it. It was the
last place he wanted to be. 'I think you should go
back to Roger, Cat.'
David turned away from her and went back to sit
with his father for a while.
Later that night, David partnered Catriona
through two full dances, just as he did with Susan.
He wasn't going to have Catriona dictate to him, and
by dancing twice with each girl he was not able to be
accused of favouritism.
At midnight Anne said that she thought it was time
to take Andy home, and that she and the others would
go home in Kate's car. David wanted to stay on a little
longer. He danced with a few of the girls he had gone
to school with and drank a glass or two of punch, all
the while keeping his eye on the Missens and their mate.
Finally, Catriona and Roger came across to where
he was sitting and told him they were leaving. As they
left the hall the Missen trio quickly followed them.
David got to his feet and tailed them. He had thought
all night that the Missens were primed for trouble.
He was even surer now.

Roger Cartwright was driving a new Falcon and,
from the top step of the hall, David watched the car
head off for Inverlochy. David had seen Angus and
Jane leave about an hour earlier and he knew that
there was to be some kind of late supper at Inverlochy
involving the Cartwrights and a couple of other families.
Roger's car was followed almost immediately by
a big dark car which accelerated sharply and almost
side-slammed a mailbox. David hurried to where he
had left his utility and in that instant he had a blinding
realisation of who was with the Missens. It was
none other than Stanley Masters, the boy he had
fought back at primary school.
'Bloody hell,' he swore. 'God knows what they'll
do if they get their hands on her.'
He started the utility and accelerated away as fast
as the vehicle would respond. When he got out on
the main road to Cassilis, he could see the lights of
the two cars ahead of him, perhaps two miles away.
He doubted very much that they would attempt anything
on the main road because there would be people
going home to Cassilis and Coolah from the dance.
No, if they were going to try anything, it would be
on the road to Inverlochy.
The two sets of lights were still ahead of him
when he turned on to the Inverlochy-High Peaks
road. And then as he came up out of a dip he
could see them no longer. It was clear that the cars
had turned off the road. The Missen trio had made
their move. In that instant he wished he had his

father, fit and well, beside him. The two of them
could handle that rotten lot up ahead. But he
would have to tackle them on his own. What on
earth could they have in mind following Catriona
home at this hour?
It took him only a few moments to discover
what had happened. Roger's Falcon had been forced
off the road and had slammed into a fence post. It
was starkly illuminated in the lights of the dark car
which lit up the whole horrifying scene. He heard
a high-pitched scream that made his blood run
cold, and an icy rage coursed through him. The
Missens and their mate were going to pay dearly
for this.
He slammed on the brakes, grabbed the whip
from behind him and was out of the vehicle in one
swift movement. Roger was sagged over the steering
wheel with Bill keeping an eye on him. Wade and
Stanley had dragged Catriona out of the car and
pinned her to the ground. Wade was holding her
by the legs while Stanley tried to tear off her beautiful
white gown. Catriona was screaming so loudly
and the three men were shouting and laughing so
much they hadn't even noticed David's arrival.
He reversed his hold of the whip and hit Wade
a mighty blow behind the ear. The handle was
weighted with lead and Wade slumped to the
ground within seconds. Masters had torn Catriona's
dress off and she was naked to the waist and
wearing just her underpants. He looked up and saw

David standing behind Wade just as David delivered
his blow.
'You bastard, MacLeod. Hit my mate, would you?'
He dropped the gown and rushed madly at Wade's
attacker. David put out a leg and tripped him up,
then hit him on the side of the head with the whip.
It was not as clean a hit as the first one had been and
Masters did not go down. David threw a punch in
the best Sparkes tradition and Masters doubled over.
Bill Missen attacked next with a piece of gum stick
that he swung down at David. The stick struck David
a fair blow on the side of the head just above the eye.
It was enough to open up a cut and David could feel
that it had drawn blood. He reached out and hit Bill
with his left hand and then cracked him with the
whip handle.
Out of the corner of his good eye David could see
Roger staggering away from his car. He looked terrible
and could barely walk. Meanwhile, Bill Missen was trying to get up, and when he was halfway there
David transferred his whip to his left hand and hit
him flush on the jaw with his right. Bill went down
in a heap, and this time he stayed there. David
dragged him over to the dark car and hauled him into
the back. Wade and Stanley were groggy but still had
some fight in them, and David accommodated them.
He was just so angry. With his whip in one hand he
threatened Stanley and Wade enough to get them into
the back of the car with Bill. 'You move from that car
and you'll wish you'd never been born,' he growled.

Now, at last, he was able to turn to Catriona. The
girl who had not so long ago been the belle of the
ball was now lying face down on the ground, sobbing
in shock and fear.
He knelt beside her and pulled the white gown
over her naked shoulders. 'Cat, it's me, David. Are
you all right?'
Catriona turned her head sideways and looked up
at him. 'Oh, David,' she cried, throwing her arms
around his neck for comfort.
'Ssshh, it's all right now. Are you okay? Are you
up to driving my ute?'
Catriona nodded bravely.
'Good. I want you to drive to Inverlochy, tell your
father what's happened and where I am, and get him
to ring the police and an ambulance.'
'Of course,' she sobbed. 'David, you're hurt.
There's blood all down your face. Will you be all right
if I leave you?'
'Yes, but hurry. I think Roger has concussion. He's
out to it. Here, let me help you up.'
He averted his eyes from her top half and put his
hand under her arm. 'Quickly now, Cat. The sooner
the police get here the better. These cretins are not
getting away with this stunt.'
Catriona tried to hold her gown together as she
ran towards David's vehicle. She stood by the utility
and looked back. She was a sorry figure compared
with the proud, happy girl of an hour ago.
'David, will you be all right?' she asked again.

Her concern for him at this moment when she must
have been feeling truly awful broke him up, and at that moment David realised her depth of feeling for him.
'You can't do anything here, Cat. For Christ's
sake, go,' he said roughly.
Catriona turned away and a few moments later the
utility pulled away and headed up the road for Inverlochy.
He could hear it for a little while and then he
was alone with all the silence of a bush night. He
went and turned the lights off on Roger's car and
then stooped and looked at its owner.
Roger was lying very still, and there was nothing
David could do for him.
Suddenly, behind him, he heard the sound of
breaking glass and he wheeled about and ran to the
other vehicle. Wade had smashed a rear window with
his fist and had managed to open the door. As Wade
fell out of the car, David let fly with his whip and it
chopped Wade's hand so hard he let out an unearthly
screech.
'If you move again, I'll cut you to pieces,' David
warned.
Wade was a pathetic figure as he pulled his body
back into the car and closed the door behind him.
David took out his handkerchief and wiped his
own face. The cloth came away covered in blood. He
had very little vision out of his right eye, as it seemed
to be closing. He was a little concerned that the three
in the car might break out together, so he jammed
two big dead branches against the door catches on the

left side of the car and then took up station on the
driver's side.
It was a very quiet night with a half-moon lighting
up the tops of the trees. Away in the distance he could
hear a dog barking. He did not expect he would have to wait long for Angus to arrive. Angus was a real
pain at times but he could always be depended upon
in an emergency.
David was right. Angus and Stuart arrived in not
much more than half an hour, but it was the longest
half-hour David had ever put in.
'God Almighty, are you all right, David?' Angus
asked as soon as he arrived on the scene.
'I think so,' David said. 'My eye probably looks
worse than it is. Did you get on to the police?'
'Jane did. They shouldn't be long. Catriona was
screaming at me to get back here to you.'
'How is she?'
'I didn't stay long enough to find out. She's badly
shocked. Tell me what happened. Did they give you
much trouble?' Angus asked as he and Stuart peered
into the car at its three sorry-looking occupants.
'Not too much.'
'What a nasty way to finish a splendid evening,'
Angus said. 'Are those fellows stirring at all, Stuart?'
'I wish they would,' he replied grimly. The very
thought of anyone trying to attack his sister was
almost too much for him to bear.
'Look here, David, you'd better sit down. You've
got blood all over you. We'll watch this lot.'

David had been walking up and down beside the
big car, his whip still in his left hand.
'I'll be right. I hope Mum isn't too worried about
all this.'
But it was Kate who arrived on the scene first.
Unfortunately Jean was on night duty so Kate had to
come on her own. Her car was the first of what
seemed to be a procession of vehicles on the road that
night. Kate strode straight over to David and threw
her arms around him. When she saw the blood on
his face and clothes she recoiled.
'Are you okay, David?' she asked, and began to
examine him by torchlight. His cut was about three
inches long and fairly deep.
'That will need stitching,' she said. 'You'll have
to go to town. I don't have any local anaesthetic
on me.'
'I believe an ambulance is on its way,' Angus said.
'Right. What sort of shape are they in?' Kate asked,
looking towards the dark car.
'I don't know, Sister, but I should think they'll
have considerable headaches tomorrow.'
The lights of another vehicle were approaching
from the Inverlochy road.
'That will be Anne,' Kate said.
It was, and she was out of the car and running
towards them almost before the car had stopped. 'Are
you all right, David?' she asked anxiously.
'Yes, he is,' Kate answered for him, but she could
see that he was suffering from some kind of reaction

to the incident. Even David was vulnerable.
Anne looked into her son's eyes and he gave her
a weak smile.
'I'm okay,' he said. 'It just looks a bit messy and
it's aching a bit now.'
'A couple of aspirins for you right now,' Kate said,
and dug into her bag for the pills.
'Angus,' Anne said, approaching him, 'what a
terrible thing. I'm so sorry.'
'Thank you,' he replied. 'I shudder to think what
would have happened if David hadn't come along
when he did.'
'Can we take David to town now?' Anne asked.
'I'm afraid not,' Angus replied gently. 'We will
have to wait for the police to arrive. I'm sure they'll
want to question David, and they'll also need to interview
Catriona and Roger.'
'Poor Roger,' Kate said as she knelt beside him.
'Two more vehicles are coming,' Stuart reported.
'Thank goodness for that,' Angus replied.
The police car was travelling very fast and the
ambulance wasn't far behind it. They pulled up in a
cloud of dust and gravel and Angus went across to
meet the two police officers.
'Evening, Mr Campbell,' Sergeant Hooper greeted
him. 'This is Constable Walker. He hasn't been with
us very long. What is the situation?'
Angus summarised briefly what David and a
shocked Catriona had told him, and then the police
moved on to question the others.

David recounted the events of the night and how
he had come to follow the three men from the ball.
'I see,' the big man said and nodded to his colleague.
'Right, I think it's time to get those three
out.'
Constable Walker kicked away the branches David
had placed against the car doors and shone his torch
inside. 'A very sorry looking trio, Sergeant,' he said
as he reached in and pulled them out one by one.
'I want some answers from you fellows and I want
them quick,' Hooper said.
'Don't say anything,' Bill croaked.
'Shut up, Missen, and don't open your mouth
until I ask you to. I think we'd better get you three
down to the station. We'll be back later to interview
Miss Campbell.'
The ambulance officer, Eric Wood, sat the trio
down on a log and in the light of the car's headlights
gave them a quick examination. 'There's nothing too
serious here, but I'll need a few minutes with each to
patch up some cuts and bruises. But there is one other
thing, Sergeant,' Eric said. He whispered in the big
man's ear and the sergeant raised his eyebrows.
'Constable, please come here a moment.'
He talked in a low voice to the young constable,
who then went to the glove box of the dark car. When
he emerged from the car, he nodded to his sergeant.
'Right, put them in the car, Constable. Are you
finished with them, Eric?' he asked.
'Yes I am, but young MacLeod needs a few

stitches. I'd like to take him back with us, if you don't
need him any longer.'
'No, you do that, Eric,' Hooper said.
'I'll follow the ambulance into town and bring
David home, Sergeant,' Anne said. 'Will you need
him again tonight?'
'No. We'll talk to him in the morning, Mrs
MacLeod. You get David fixed up.'
'I'd better get back home and let Andy know
what's happened,' Kate said. 'He'll be worried.'
'Good idea,' Anne agreed.
The group finally broke up. Three vehicles headed
off for town while the other two turned left for Inverlochy
and High Peaks.
An hour or so later, with the Missen boys and
Stanley Masters in custody, Sergeant Hooper and
Constable Walker arrived at Inverlochy. Angus and
Stuart were standing by the front steps (their supper
guests had made a very hasty departure when they
had seen the state Catriona was in). The whole area
was a blaze of light. Angus led the way into the big
lounge room where Catriona, in a floral-patterned
dressing-gown, was sitting with her mother. The once
beautiful white gown she had been wearing earlier
that evening was draped across the lounge-room table.
Catriona had been told that the police would require
it as evidence. Angus introduced the two police
officers and they seated themselves in chairs at the
table.
'Miss Campbell, I know you're distressed by what

happened tonight, but I'm afraid I need to record
your version of events as soon as possible, while the
incident is fresh in your mind. Do you understand?'
Catriona nodded. 'Good. Now, we'll need to start
from the very beginning.'
Catriona was asked all sorts of questions about the
evening: who she had danced with, what she had been
drinking, what time she had arrived and departed.
She answered all the questions clearly and precisely,
but when she was asked more intimate questions she
began to show signs of distress.
'For the record, is that the gown you were wearing
tonight?'
'Yes, Sergeant.'
Hooper reached for the gown and examined it.
'Is it true that the gown was ripped right off you,
and your brassiere, as well?'
Catriona looked distraught at this question, but
managed her reply. 'That's right, Sergeant. I was lying
on my back on the ground and they had ripped my
dress right off me. The next thing I knew one of
them had fallen to the ground. I didn't know what
was happening because I hadn't even heard David
arrive.'
'And where was Roger while all this was going on?'
'I don't know. I didn't have time to look before I
was grabbed and pulled out of the car. The next time
I saw Roger was after David had thrown the others
in their car. By then Roger was lying on the ground.'
'Okay. Now, please think very carefully and

answer me truthfully - did you hear any of those
young men say anything that indicated what their
intentions were?'
Catriona blushed and looked across at her father
and brother.
'Do I have to tell you exactly what they said, Sergeant?'
Catriona asked.
'Yes, and if a court case arises out of this matter,
you could be questioned on this very point. Perhaps
you would like a little privacy.'
'Yes, I would,' Catriona said.
Angus and Stuart got to their feet. 'We'll leave,
Sergeant. Would you like me to get you something
to eat or drink? It's going to be a long night,' Angus
said.
'A cup of tea and a biscuit would be great. My
mate is a coffee drinker, thank you.'
While Catriona recounted the sordid details of the
night, her mother closed her eyes and shook her head.
It seemed that she could hardly believe, let alone bear,
what she was hearing. Catriona's evidence implicated
all three of her assailants.
When all the questioning was over, Sergeant
Hooper said, 'You had a very lucky escape, Catriona.'
'I know. David MacLeod seems to have made a
habit of being on hand when I need him,' she said.
Angus came back into the room and listened
carefully while Hooper summarised what would
happen as a result of the assault.
'All parties will be questioned again. We'll need to

take a statement from your daughter, which she will
have to sign. There are a number of charges against
the young men, including attempted sexual assault.
Their actions also resulted in an injury to Roger Cartwright,
the extent of which we don't as yet know,
and we found drugs in the glove box of their car. The
charges will be very serious indeed,' Hooper said.
After the two police officers had departed, Angus
took Catriona's hand in his and smiled rather grimly.
'I'm terribly sorry this had to happen to you,
Catriona. It was a grand night and now it looks as if
you'll be involved in court proceedings. I still can't
believe those fellows would do such a thing.'
'It could have been worse, Daddy. Much worse.
Poor David. He must be sick of playing guardian
angel to me.'
'Catriona, if I know young David, I shouldn't
think a cut eye would worry him greatly.'
'Still, I shall have to go and see him, to thank him.
You do see that I must, don't you, Daddy?'
Angus nodded. 'Of course you must. Plain good
manners. But you should wait and get the police
interview over first. I'll talk to Anne and tell her that
you'll be along after the interview.'
At this point, Jane burst into the conversation.
'David MacLeod. I am getting heartily tired of
hearing that name,' she said. 'If I'm not being told
how wonderful he is, I am hearing how he's rescued
you from some terrible situation. It seems to me,
Catriona, that you are much too friendly with that

young man. I think you should stay right away from
him in future.'
'That's very unfair, Mummy. You should be
thankful that David is the kind of person he is. Think
what might have happened if he hadn't turned up
tonight. Your high and mighty friends wouldn't have
wanted their sons to have anything to do with me
then. I would have been spoiled goods if things had
been taken any further.'
'Catriona, I forbid you to talk like that. I understand
you are upset and tired. I think we should get
you to bed. Of course I am grateful to David. I just
think you are getting too friendly with him. I agree
with your father that you should go away for a while,
or do a university course.'
'Right now I can't think beyond getting a good
night's sleep, making it through the police interview
tomorrow, and going to thank David,' Catriona said.

It was a dejected Roy Missen who made his way to
Inverlochy midmorning the next day.
'Angus, I don't know what to say. I'm just so terribly
sorry for what happened. Where did we go
wrong?'
'Roy, I sympathise with you and Bessie,' Angus
said with genuine sorrow in his heart for this good
man. 'I respect you for coming to see me.'
'Well, my boys got what they deserved from David
MacLeod. I'm not worried about that, and I'll pay for
any medical costs for David's eye. He and his fatherare a hard pair but they're straight as a die. Please let
me know if there is anything I can do for Catriona.'
'You had better concentrate on what you can do
to help Bill and Wade. I have to tell you, Roy, that
I've asked the police to oppose bail. I don't want them
wandering about anywhere near my family.'
'I understand how you feel, Angus, but it grieves
Bessie and me to think of our boys in prison.'
'There is a high probability that prison is where
they will be for the next few years,' Angus said
bluntly.
'Granted it looks bad for them, Angus. I wanted you
to know that I'm personally very sorry for what happened
to Catriona. I'll head on to High Peaks now.'
Angus Campbell watched his neighbour walk
down the driveway to his car, start the engine and
drive off up the road. Clearly Roy Missen was a
broken man.
Anne thought Roy looked pathetic as he stood at
her front door. He gave a genuine nod of apology to
Andy and then turned to talk to Anne.
'I came to say how sorry I am for what happened
and to see if you would allow me to pay for any of
David's medical expenses. Is he here, Mrs MacLeod?'
'My sister took him into town to give his statement
to the police,' Anne said. She did not know
Roy and Bessie Missen very well, although she knew
that Angus had always spoken well of them.
'It's good of you to call so quickly with your boys
in trouble,' Anne said with a smile.

'It's the least I can do in the circumstances,' he said.
'Would you like a cup of tea?' Anne asked. The
poor man seemed lost.
'I wouldn't impose on your hospitality, Mrs
MacLeod, not the way things are. You let me know
what the costs are for David's eye.'
Roy Missen walked slowly back to his car and
drove away. Anne rested one hand on her husband's
shoulder and then heard him say, albeit croakily, 'Roy
is in worse shape than me.'
Anne looked down at him in amazement. 'Andy,
that was a full, coherent sentence. You've got your
voice back!'
'Some of it,' he said with a grin. 'It just happened
so suddenly. One moment there was nothing and the
next the words just came out.'
Anne bent over and kissed the top of his head.
'Maybe this is the beginning of a complete, miraculous
recovery,' she said with a glint in her eye.
'I sure hope so,' he said, smiling even more
broadly.
David and Kate arrived back for lunch with the
news that the Missen boys and Stanley Masters would
be charged with a number of offences, and that the
police were going to oppose bail.
'Angus rang me to find out if you would be here
this afternoon. They're aII coming up to see you,
David,' Anne said.
David grimaced. 'I should ride out and look at
some sheep,' he said lamely.

'You can't do that, Davie,' Andrew said firmly.
David stared at his father in disbelief. 'You've got
your voice back! Mum, did you hear it?'
'Yes, it would appear so,' Anne said.
'Dad, that's fantastic,' David said, his face
beaming. 'At least that's one good thing to come out
of this rotten mess. For you, Dad, I suppose I can
see the Campbell clan.'
'You must never throw gratitude in people's faces,'
Anne said. 'And, besides, Angus is talking about
sending Jane and Catriona overseas for a while.
Catriona has had a very unpleasant experience so a
change would do her good,' Anne said.
"I suppose so,' David said, but he couldn't really
understand anyone's desire to leave the range country.
'Is Cat all right?' he asked.
'She has a few bruises but otherwise she's okay.
You'll see her for yourself soon enough. I dare say she
looks better than you do. You are going to have a
bad eye for a while.'
'It's not too bad. I can still see out of it. What's
a few stitches?'
Anne threw her hands in the air. 'What's a few
stitches? They could have split your head open with
that stick.'
'But they didn't, Mum,' David said calmly. He
was sick of the whole episode.
Angus, Jane and Catriona arrived just before afternoon
smoko, as Anne had expected they would.


Despite the trauma of the moment, Jane had brought
a cake.
'Jane, you shouldn't have bothered. Not now,'
Anne protested.
'It's nothing. Anyway, Mrs Rogers made it.'
Catriona looked around for David.
'He'll be back in a little while, Catriona. He went
somewhere to look at a water trough.'
'Hello, you lot,' Andrew greeted them.
The three Campbells looked at him in amazement.
They were aware of how badly the stroke had affected
his voice and were now astonished to hear him speaking
almost like the Andrew of old.
'Isn't that something?' Anne said. 'Andy's voice
came back this morning. Properly, I mean. Ah, here
comes David.'
David's tall figure came up the path in long, easy
strides. The right side of his face surrounding his eye
was black and blue and the stitches were covered in
gauze.
Catriona looked across at her parents and then
went to greet him. They met at the top of the steps
and she put one hand against his left cheek while she
kissed the other.
'Thank you once again,' she said very softly in his
ear.
David thought she looked as beautiful as ever, if
a shade more subdued. He could smell her perfume,
and that combined with her closeness did strange


things to him, made him feel light inside, in a way
he had never felt before.
'Hello, Cat,' he said gravely.
'Hello, yourself,' Catriona said as brightly as she
could manage. 'You aren't so handsome right now.'
'I ran into a branch,' he said.
'I know. I saw you do it.'
He inclined his head and looked at her. He could
remember in every detail how she had looked last
night. She was at her splendid best when presented
at the ball, and later, by the light of the dark car's
headlights, he had seen her as she lay helpless and
vulnerable on the ground, at the mercy of those three
awful men. Catriona did not doubt that he had seen
her lying so exposed, but relief at being rescued overrode
any feelings of embarrassment she might have
felt.
'You're looking much better now than when I last
saw you,' he said, a little uncomfortably.
Catriona turned pink. 'I feel better, too. I don't
know why, though, after the grilling the police gave
me. They were very thorough.'
'They sure were,' David agreed.
'You know there will be a court case and you and
I are the main witnesses,' Catriona said. 'I would like
to think that will be the last time I ever see those
characters.'
'You're not the only one,' David replied.
'I hate being looked at by creepy men. I want just
one man to admire me, to want me,' Catriona said,

and her eyes settled on David's battered face. 'One
man who loves me.'
Anne interrupted at this point. 'I think it's time
we had a nice cup of tea,' she said quickly.
'What a good idea,' Angus replied. 'What do you
reckon Malcolm Fraser will do for us, Andy?'
Catriona didn't concentrate much on the conversation
that afternoon. Anne watched her out of the
corner of her eye and observed how her eyes kept
straying back to David's face. The look in those eyes
was that of a girl very much in love. Unfortunately
she did not see the same intensity in David's eyes.
But a change had come over him. She knew him too
well not to recognise the slight difference in the way
he responded to Catriona's conversation.
'You must come to dinner one night, Catriona,'
Anne said as the Campbells were preparing to leave.
'You asked me about the MacLeod family history and
I've put it all together. Kate wants to hear it, too.
And it's about time David knew a bit more about his
forebears. I declare he knows much more about the
ancestors of his precious dogs than he does about his
own family.'
'I would love to, Anne. I really would,' she said as
she looked across at David standing with his father,
but her mind was elsewhere. She wanted to get David
right away from everyone else and have an honest talk
with him. There were a few things she had to get
settled in her mind. And if her father was going to
insist on an overseas trip, she wanted to do it before

she left. She had felt David's eyes on her throughout
the entire afternoon, and she knew she had to speak
now or never.
'You'll be mustering again, Andy,' Angus said as
he got in the Fairlane. 'Harry Cameron had a stroke
and he's back farming again. One arm was stiff just
like yours, but it's amazing what he does now.'
'I sure hope so, Angus. David has a huge job on
his hands here and I've been no help at all. If it hadn't
been for Anne and Kate and Jean, I don't know how
he'd have managed.'
'I would be happy to help out, if I'm about,'
Catriona said. 'I could help with the mustering,
anyway.'
Jane didn't like that suggestion. She could sense
what was behind her daughter's motives. The sooner
she got Catriona overseas the better she would feel.
There she would find other attractions to take her
mind off David. That was a liaison that had to be
nipped in the bud.













Chapter Twenty





The best thing that could be said about the next few
months was that Andrew MacLeod exhibited a
remarkable improvement in his physical condition.
He still walked with a slight limp and he did not
regain the full use of his right arm, but he could now
hold objects with it and was no longer one-handed.
The return of his voice brought normality back to the
household. Andrew could once again offer advice and,
to a certain extent, direct activities. He was proud of
the way David had looked after both properties and
he told him so. The establishment of the lucerne
block had been a very worthwhile initiative and had
helped enormously with feed costs.
During the period of Andrew's convalescence,
Kate's presence had never been more valuable. She
had been a huge help to David work-wise, as she had
developed into a first-class rider and all-round stock
handler. She would come home from a long stint at

the hospital, throw on her working clothes and sally
out to look at sheep or cattle or do some other chore.
Her energy was inexhaustible and she was interested
in every aspect of rural life. Jean Courteney was an
admirable partner for Kate. While she too had
become quite a good rider and stock handler, she was
a much more 'homey' person than Kate. Jean loved
to cook and to paint and she kept the homestead
spotless. Kate blessed her for this because it allowed
Kate more time to spend outside and, particularly,
with David. Jean would feed the poultry and collect
the eggs and look after the chickens. As she told
Anne, being with Kate at Poitrel kept her mind and
body occupied. Her marriage had been a disaster.
'Once bitten, twice shy,' she said. Anne thought Jean
was a sweet young woman who would make some
man a really lovely wife, but for the time being Jean
was dead scared of committing herself to anyone.
Kate reckoned that she and the MacLeods were
lucky to have Jean at Poitrel. She had become like
another member of the family. David, in his practical
way, was grateful to have Jean at Poitrel for quite
another reason. Like Kate, Jean had her certificate in
obstetric nursing and this came in handy from time
to time in the birth of horses, sheep and cattle. Once
Jean had even stitched up a gaping wound in a young
foal. Kate and Jean together were like a pair of sisters
to David.
Apart from Andrew's incredible and unexpected
return to health - although he was still not permitted

to do any heavy work and was harassed by Anne if
he tried - the MacLeods constantly thought of the
ordeal that lay ahead when David would have to
appear as a key witness in the trial of the Missen boys
and Stanley Masters.
David hardly ever mentioned the trial, but Anne
was aware that he was concerned about what he
would have to go through. David was a bushman who
hated fuss and procedure, and Anne realised that the
atmosphere of a court would be anathema to him.
At the Campbell home, Jane had been pressing the
subject of an overseas trip for Catriona. She knew that
up until a few months ago Catriona had been excited
about the prospect of such a trip, but she was much
less enthusiastic now. Nevertheless, Jane went ahead
and made all the necessary arrangements. She and
Catriona would be leaving as soon as the trial was
over.
Catriona visited High Peaks several times, and as
the trial grew closer, Anne could tell that the spectre
of what she would have to endure was having its effect
on Catriona, too. Her evidence would be crucial to
the outcome of the case. The defence lawyers would
try and fault her story and make assertions to try to
trap her.
When it came to the crunch on her big day in
court, Catriona gave her evidence very clearly and
could not be shaken at any stage. Her evidence,
backed up by David's and Roger Cartwright's, left her
assailants without a leg to stand on.

The jury was out for only a brief period and their
verdict of guilty on all counts was received with
enormous relief by the Campbell and MacLeod families.
But across the row from where they sat in the
courtroom, Roy and Bessie Missen sat with grief
stricken faces. They had aged years in the last few
months:
The presiding judge sentenced the guilty trio to
five years in jail, with a minimum parole period of
three years. Angus reckoned they got off far too
lightly, but he still took his family and the MacLeods
to dinner to celebrate their victory.
A fortnight later, Jane and Catriona left for
Europe, a trip which would take them several months.
Catriona sent David numerous postcards from many
of the places she visited. The part of the world that
interested David most was Scotland. Firstly, because
his ancestors had lived there and, secondly, because
Scotland had supplied most, if not all, of the original
dogs that formed the kelpie breed. The name kelpie
was itself Gaelic and meant water spirit.
When Catriona returned, it appeared as if the trip
had done her the world of good. She was back to her
gorgeous best and entertained the MacLeods with a
detailed account of her travels. She also informed
them that she was going to university to do an Arts
course. It would take three years. This, Anne decided,
was the time to issue her long-delayed dinner invitation
to get David and Catriona together.
Catriona was just as keen to spend time with

David before she had to go away again, so she suggested
to Anne that King needed plenty of work,
having been simply fed and not worked while she was
overseas. She said that she would bring him up after
lunch and give him a work-out and also let David
see how the horse was shaping up. She would then
stay on for dinner. Anne thought this was a splendid
suggestion.
Jane, however, could not get Catriona away to
Sydney quickly enough. She realised that anything
could happen once Catriona got David to herself. But
she was in no position to forbid Catriona to go to
High Peaks after what David had done for her. So it
was with great misgivings that she and Angus watched
her ride away on King and eventually disappear round
the bend of the road that led to High Peaks.
David met her as she came through the front gate.
He was leading Ajana's beautiful bay filly, which he
had recently broken in and was now educating. He
reckoned she was the best horse he had ridden,
including King, and that was saying something.
'King is too fat, Cat,' he said as they rode down
the first paddock to the creek. Then, when Catriona
rode straight past the exercise area where she had first
ridden King, David said, 'I thought you wanted to
show me what he could do.'
'I didn't come here to talk horses, David. I came
here to talk about us.'
'What about us?' he asked.
'Wait until we get to the creek,' she said. She was

aware that David had a special place on a log beside
the creek. Anne had told her that he went there when
he needed to think things out. It was a really picturesque
place, with big kurrajongs on either side and a
yellow box tree hanging over it so that it was cool
there, even on very hot days.
David took King's reins from Catriona and
hitched the horses to separate trees. As he came back
to her, she was untying the ribbon in her hair. She
shook her head and her golden waves fell gloriously
into place. Catriona watched for David's reaction.
There was none. She sighed inwardly.
David thought that Catriona must have been
steamed up about something, and he thought that it
was going to be a heavy afternoon. He had never done
anything to encourage her affections because he
wasn't ready to settle down, but she always made him
feel as if he owed her something.
'Look here, David, are you seeing Susan Cartwright?'
Catriona burst out.
'No. Why?'
'Well, she implied that you were.'
'I escorted my Aunt Kate to the Hospital Ball and
Susan happened to be there. I had a couple of dances
with her, that's all. What's this all about, anyway?'
'David, have you got no idea at all about how I
feel about you? Don't you care for me at all?'
'What gives you the idea I don't care for you? Of
course I do. We've been friends for years.'
'I don't mean in terms of friendship. I'm talking

about genuine affection, something deeper than that.
You have never shown any real enthusiasm for me;
never tried to kiss me like other boys have. You've
never asked me out. It seems to me that I've always
been secondary to your dogs and horses,' she blurted
out passionately.
'You have,' he replied calmly.
'There you are. That's what I mean.'
'I don't give horses like King to any old girl. You
haven't seen me giving anything to Susan, have you?'
'Did you give me King for my sake or did you do
it to get even with my father? I don't know. I have
never known where you stand, David. Is there something
about me that you find obnoxious? Are you
looking for a different kind of girl?'
'What gives you the idea I am looking for any kind
of girl?'
'If you aren't, I'm wasting my time even trying to
figure you out. I want to get things settled between
us before I go away to university for three years.'
'Cat, why would I be looking for a girl when the
one I like is right next to me? I've never had eyes for
anyone else.'
Catriona couldn't believe the words that were
coming out of David's mouth.
'The problem isn't me; it's your parents. Your
people have made it very clear that they're looking
for a fellow with a big station and the right background.
It's plain silly me thinking I could have you.'
Catriona looked at him with relief on her lovely

face. 'David, why didn't you say something? What
does it matter what my people say? They would get
used to the idea. They would have to.'
David shook his head. 'I doubt it. They have
grander things in mind for you. But, Catriona, something
else is just as important for me. You see, I don't
want to settle down yet. I'm not ready. I can't think
of getting married until we clear the debt on Poitrel,
and once we've done that I want to have a go at
winning the National Trial. I want to win that trial
for Dad. He's never had the chance to show what his
dogs can really do, but I know how much they mean
to him. Nothing would please him more than to see
one of his dogs win the National against the best dogs
in Australia. I wouldn't care if I never worked another
trial, if only I could win that one. I would come back
here and be happy with what I've got. But I have to
win that trial, Cat. It is my first and only dream.'
"Well, you are mine, David MacLeod,' Catriona
replied, 'and you might never win that trial. There
are scores of top dogs at Canberra.'
'Oh, I will win it, and when I do, then I'll come .
back here and see which way the wind blows.'
'If you want me, really want me, I will wait for
you, David,' Catriona said, her eyes aglow with
delight.
'If you insist on sticking it out for me, you'll cut
yourself off from a lot of your friends. I'll never have
the sort of money they have.'
'My God, I had no idea that sort of thing was

holding you back. Look, money isn't a problem.
Stuart and I get a share from Inverlochy and Daddy
has other investments in our names. I could put my
money into a trust for our future.'
'Inverlochy is a fine property and I wouldn't want
to contribute to it being cut up. That wouldn't be
doing the right thing by Stuart. I'm not that sort of
person. The land means a lot to me. Nobody likes to
see acreage taken from them.'
'But don't you want me?' Catriona asked him
honestly.
'Wanting and having are two very different
things,' he said. 'Cat, I wouldn't want to be the cause
of your unhappiness or to know that you got less than
you could have. You could have anyone, Cat, anyone
at all. You sure could do a lot better than me. Right
now you might think I'm what you want, but will
you feel that way in a few years' time? Wouldn't you
be jealous if Susan married a rich guy who could give
her everything?'
'David, I can't believe you would even ask that of
me. You are the only man who could give me everything
I want. I have even told Daddy as much.'
'You did? And what did he do?'
'He sent me overseas,' she said, laughing.
'Okay, so your father knows. That doesn't mean
he approves, or ever will.'
'David, do you love me?' Catriona asked.
'I don't know. I'm very fond of you, I really am.
I just don't think this is a good idea. You could never

convince your people to accept me, and I wouldn't
want you to have to try.'
'Yes, I could. If it's my parents that are holding
you back, we can settle the matter right here. You can
make love to me here and now and if I get pregnant,
they will have to agree to you marrying me.'
'What a damned stupid suggestion, Cat. You must
be off your head,' David said vehemently. 'You just
said you thought you knew me. Hell, Cat, you don't
know me at all if you think I would put you in that
position. You go off and do your uni course. I need
more time. See how you feel in a year's time.'
'David, I love you. You just think about that. The
day you feel the same way and tell me that you do,
we will become engaged. I don't care if it causes
mayhem at Inverlochy. It's my life and I'm going to
live the rest of it my way. I know you want it, too.
I can see right through you.'
'Don't be so bossy, Cat. It doesn't suit you. Let's
get going. Who knows what my folks will be
thinking?'
'The mind boggles,' Catriona said, and laughed
with real joy for the first time in years. She leant her
head against David's shoulder and he responded by
putting an arm around her waist. She sighed and
closed her eyes. 'If you only knew how much I have
wanted you to do that,' she said. 'You must believe
me when I tell you that I'm sincere about waiting
for you.'
'I'd like to think you are,' he said.

'I think you really do love me, David. What do I
have to do to convince you that I'm serious about you?'
'You could learn to milk a cow,' he said.
'Milk a cow! Why would I need to milk a cow?'
she asked.
'How else do we feed the pups?' David laughed.
Catriona made a face. 'David MacLeod, you'll be
the death of me,' she said.
Catriona rode back to Inverlochy to have a shower
and get changed before driving back up for dinner.
Anne was waiting for David as he came up the steps
from seeing her off.
'Have you and Catriona finally decided to get
together?' she asked with ill-concealed impatience.
'Mum, can't a bloke get a bit of privacy around
here? If you must know, Catriona told me that she
loved me and I told her I liked her a lot but that
I have some things to do before I settle down.'
'God help me. You put her off?' Anne gasped.
'Yes and no. I suggested she sees how she feels in
a year or so.'
'You seem to be treating this as a big joke. I
thought you must have told her something wonderful.
She certainly had a glow on.'
'I told her I was fond of her. That was about
halfway to what she wanted to hear. If Catriona is a
really special girl, she'll wait for me. Otherwise, I'm
better off without her. It's as simple as that. If I have
to go up against her parents, I want to know she's
behind me all the way.'

'Nothing is as simple as that,' Anne said.
'I'm not going to worry too much for the time
being about what Catriona does. She's going off to
do her course, and who knows what will happen
down there? Catriona is a lovely girl and I'm just a
hill country stockman.'
'You are an old hardhead for a boy of eighteen,'
Anne said.
'You've also told me a million times that I am very
practical. Aren't I being practical now?'
To that question, Anne could not find an answer.
























Chapter Twenty-one






Catriona looked stunning when she arrived that
evening for dinner in a plum-coloured dress which
enhanced her lovely figure. She had changed her hairstyle
so that it was coiled up. She came bearing two
bottles of white wine, which she knew both Kate and
Jean enjoyed with their evening meal. Andy and
David drank the occasional beer.
The first course of the meal was spinach in a pastry
so light it almost melted in the mouth, and Catriona
said she had tasted nothing nicer on her overseas trip.
The main course was a piece of prime beef that had
been sewn into a roll and then filled with herb and
onion stuffing. And for dessert they had apple pie and
cream.
'Wow,' David said as he finished off a big slice of
the pie. 'That was some dinner. Cat, you should come
more often.'

'I am sure she would if you asked her,' Anne got
in quickly.
After they had cleared away the dishes and drunk
some coffee, Anne took out her papers and put them
on the table in front of her.
'The details I have here came principally from
Andy and his mother,' she began. 'But I also wrote
away and obtained some additional information on
the MacLeod family. I intend to put this material into
book form before I am too much older. Your family
has their history properly recorded, Catriona. It traces
back a very long way.
'There was, of course, a big difference between the
Campbells and the MacLeods back in Scotland. The
Campbells were Lowlanders while the MacLeods were
Highlanders. Most of the Highland clans were
enemies of the Campbells, who in turn considered
the Highland clans to be mere cattle thieves.
'Andy's blood traces back to the MacLeods of
Harris, Skye and Glenelg from the Western Isles of
Scotland. Like many other Scots, the MacLeods were
subject to eviction and were forced to leave their
native country and make new lives in the United
States, Canada and Australia, where their descendants
can still be found to this day. Perhaps as many as
thirty-five thousand people were evicted in all. The
torment began after the Jacobite rebellion in 1745 to
1746 and continued for over one hundred years.
Tenants were evicted to make way for sheep, and,
after sporadic resistance, the western Highlanders

were involved in what came to be known as the
Crofters' War. This caused the British Parliament to
despatch a committee of enquiry into the whole awful
business. Some Scots returned home but most did
not, because although conditions were hard in the
colonies, they were not as hard as back on the hills
of their native land.
'William MacLeod was one of these refugees.
Along with his wife and small son he was destined
for Canada but, because of his knowledge of cattle,
he was offered a position on a developing cattle ranch
in the United States.
'William was an excellent cattleman and much
sought after for his knowledge of cattle husbandry.
He took up land for a ranch of his own and, as fate
would have it, he prospered. A descendant still owns
this ranch today. One of William's grandsons, Angus
MacLeod, migrated to Australia after the gold strikes
of the 1850s, eventually struck it lucky and purchased
land along the Lachlan River. Periodic floods drove
him off this land and on to the New England district
between Glen Innes and Armidale. There were many
Scots in this region and, while the country was hard
in winter, if you owned enough of it, you could make
a fair living. Labour was cheap and there was a rising
demand for wool.
'Angus MacLeod fathered six sons and three
daughters. One son, Tormid, went as an officer to
the Boer War. On his arrival back in Australia he
became a landowner and politician through the

acquisition of a large property near Scone in the Hunter district of New South Wales. Tormid married
an actress of some repute and their only son, James
was Andy's father. James grew up to be very good- looking and women were attracted to him like bees to honey. He had a certain degree of irresponsibility,
which set him apart from the previous males of the MacLeod lineage. But there was no doubt he was a
courageous man, which he proved in the Second
World War, coming out of the AIF with a chest full of medals - and a propensity for whisky.
'Now we come close to home,' Anne continued.
'Some years earlier, when the few large original properties
in the Merriwa, Willow Tree and Quirindi
districts were cut up for closer settlement, Tormid
MacLeod purchased a hill property fairly cheaply. He had installed James on this property in 1939, but James didn't stay there long. When he joined the AIF he left his wife and young son on the property with
only one old stockman to keep an eye on things.
While James was overseas, the property went downhill
as rabbits bred in thousands. Tormid died in 1945
and James came back from the war to find that he had inherited a run-down property and that he had to find a lot of money to pay the onerous death
duties. The sale of the hill property, which is where we find ourselves sitting tonight, would not have realised
enough money to pay those duties, so the property
at Scone had to be sacrificed. There was still not enough money left over from the sale of that to clear

the debt on High Peaks, and there was hardly a living
in the place the way it was, especially for a person
with James MacLeod's flamboyant tastes.
'Fortunately, Andy's mother, Alice, was made of
good material, and she needed to be because High
Peaks was not a place for the faint-hearted. The property
was situated at the very end of the road and
topped by high peaks. When the wind blew, the she
oaks along the creek would sigh all through the night.
Going to town was a real adventure, as petrol was
rationed and Alice and young Andrew sometimes had
to come in by horse and buggy. For all that, Andrew
had a very happy childhood and he was lucky to have
a neighbour in that old Paddy Covers, who was a top
bushman and stockman. He taught young Andrew all
that he knows today. Thankfully, Andrew somehow
reclaimed the industrious character of the earlier
generation MacLeods rather than that of his father.
'By the time Andrew's father came back from the
war, Andy was in his early teens. He could do almost
anything in the way of bush and stock work and had
a real flair for handling sheepdogs and horses. There
were several outstanding dog and horse men in the
area, and Paddy himself was good with both. Paddy
had acquired some very good kelpies and with these
dogs he could do any kind of stock work. Andrew
took an immediate liking to the kelpie, and Paddy let
him have a pair for his own use.
Andrew and his mother were very close but there
was antipathy between Andy and his father. Theproperty had a big mortgage on it and simply did not
run to the extravagances his father was fond of. While
Andy was tramping the hills ringing green timber and
shooting foxes to earn pocket money, his father was
away at social functions all around the country,
wasting money that should have been going into the
property. Moreover, he drank far too much. It was
his father's drinking that set Andy against alcohol,
which is why you rarely see him drinking to this day.
'The real crisis in Andy's life came when his father,
returning to High Peaks late one night after a party,
crashed his car into the creek below the bridge and
killed Alice. Her death caused a big change in Andy.
He became a silent, withdrawn teenager who would
hardly speak to his father from morning to night. He
looked after himself, took himself to school, washed
his own clothes and prepared his own meals. Every
spare moment was spent up in the hills.
'Unfortunately, Alice did not live to see the wool
boom, which began in 1950 at the time of the Korean
War. This brought in more money than the MacLeods
had ever handled on the property, but the extra
money was put into buying an expensive car, racehorses
and more high living. James MacLeod did not
concern himself with reducing the debt that still
plagued the running of the property.
'Andrew grew into a large, powerful man, and
when he left school at the age of fifteen, he began
shearing and crutching at the local sheds. He was able
to bank his money in a small account his mother had

started for him. After two seasons of shearing, Andy
was putting out a lot of sheep and ringing sheds. He
bought himself a Chevrolet utility and began going
to sheepdog trials. He won most of them and established
the reputation his dogs have today.
'But Andrew continued to consider that his father
was very weak, despite all the medals he had received.
He believed that plenty of other men had been to the
war, had seen as much or more than his father had,
had suffered more, yet hadn't become booze artists.
But the booze was only part of it. The way his father
wasted money was an even bigger problem. However,
the fact remained that James was his father and
Andrew couldn't disregard him completely.
'Towards the end of his life, James made a couple
of half-hearted attempts to effect a reconciliation with
Andy. It was as if he could see that Andy was everything
he was not. James told Andrew that he was
really proud of him, that he'd done a hell of a job on
High Peaks, and that he appreciated Andy saving his
money to help out with the debt on the place. He
then went on to confess that his heart was not the
best: he'd had some bad pains and had been to see
the doctor. He knew his time was coming to an end
and wanted Andy to know how he really felt about
him. He told Andrew that the property had been
willed to him, and he asked Andrew to make a strange
promise; a promise that if he ever needed advice he
was to go and see Angus Campbell. Angus had been
made an executor, who would keep an eye on things

until Andrew was old enough to take over. This was
Old Angus Campbell he was referring to.
'It was also during this rare conversation that
James asked Andrew how he was off for money. A
bolt of dread ran through Andy as he hoped his father
wasn't about to ask him for a loan. Thankfully he
wasn't, but he did confess that he had discussed their
financial woes with Old Angus.
'Andrew was appalled. It was bad enough to waste
money as his father had done, but to have taken their
problems to a neighbour was extremely embarrassing,
especially knowing that old Campbell would never
waste a penny of his money. It was at that moment
that Andy swore to himself he would clear the debt
on High Peaks, even if it killed him, and he would
never run to a neighbour with details of his affairs.
'James MacLeod lived on for another seven
months. Andy was shearing at a local shed and coming
home every evening.
'One night Andy came home to find no sign of
his father, and the house in complete darkness. He
grabbed for a torch as quickly as he could and set
about on a desperate search. In the stables he noticed
his father's favourite horse, Rajah, was missing.
'He returned to the house in a real quandary.
There was nothing he or anybody else could do that
night. The hill country, especially the slopes of Yellow
Rock and Jimmy's Mountain, was simply too dangerous
to ride over at night. And on this particular
night there was not even a moon to light his way.

The next morning, the first thing Andy saw out
of his window was his father's horse standing patiently
at the gate beyond the dog yards and kennels. Its reins
were trailing and one was broken short. He caught
the horse and brought it back to the stables, where
he went over it for injuries. There was none that
he could see. He was reluctant to involve Angus
Campbell at this stage, but he had a feeling the matter
was serious and felt that he didn't have any choice.
Old Angus said that he would come himself with
Young Angus and their overseer, Buck Covers, a son
of Andy's old mentor, Paddy. The three men and a
horse for each arrived within the hour. Equipped with
ropes, a blanket and a water bottle, the four men set
off into the mountains.
'It was Andy who first saw the body in the gully
to their left up on Yellow Rock. Below the track, the
side of the cliff plunged away down a steep slope that
was bisected by deeply cut gullys and ravines, and it
was there, at the pit of one of those ravines, that
James MacLeod's body was sprawled.
'Andy tied a rope to a rough-barked kurrajong,
and without another word he dropped over the ledge.
Hand over hand with his boots scuffing loose rocks
and shale, he lowered himself down to his father's
body. In Andy's mind he had not set himself a
remarkable task: he was young, very strong and confident
of his own ability. Of course if the rope had
broken, that might have been the end of him then
and there, but Andy never used faulty gear.

'Andy at last eased himself off the rope and saw the others, two rope lengths above him, peering anxiously
down. He lifted his hand to signify that he was in good shape and then dropped to his knees to
examine his father.
'When he turned him over he was momentarily
shaken by the sight of the ruined face. He felt for
signs of life. The body was cold and stiff. His father
was dead.
'During the traumatic years following his father's death, Andy grew to depend on Old Angus. He had
been there when Andrew found James's body, he
had helped out with the police enquiries, and he had
always been on hand to give Andy advice or help him
out with special deals with stock and station agents.
Andy returned his help by handling the Inverlochy
horses and by shearing. The two men had a lot of
respect for each other, despite their social differences.
Old Angus gave off an outwardly cold impression to
outsiders, but he was an eminently fair man. He was a hard taskmaster, but he acknowledged talent and
excellence whether it was displayed by a horseman, a shearer or a stud breeder. There was no second-best
for Old Angus, and Young Angus - your father,
Catriona - followed closely in his father's footsteps.
Old Angus was the first outsider to recognise Andy's talent and his capacity to work hard to make something
of himself. Perhaps their common Scottish
ancestry meant something to Old Angus.
'So you see, Catriona, our families trace back

together a very long way. There are ties that bind us
together over many generations, and I dare say these
bonds will only be strengthened in the future,' Anne
said with a glimmer in her eye.
Later in the evening, when David saw Catriona to
her car, she took his arm and held him close to her.
'I will wait for you, David,' she said. 'You are the
only man in the world for me. You win that National
Trial and I'll prove it.'
'Time will tell, Cat,' he said. He didn't want her
to leave, yet he couldn't ask her to stay. There was a
price to pay for everything. His father had almost paid
the supreme price. Winning the National for his
father might mean losing Catriona, but he had to take
that risk. Time was running out for his father. He
had to put everything he could into winning. No
matter what, David wanted to be able to hand the
big cup and sash over to his father, acknowledging
Andy's outstanding expertise in kelpie breeding, for
all the world to see.
Catriona kissed David on the cheek and gently
touched the scar above his right eye.
'Get going, Cat. Get going to your old uni,' he
said gruffly. It was all he could manage to say.Chapter Twenty-two





While Catriona was away at university, David and
High Peaks saw about as much of her as they had
when she had been away at boarding school. Not that
they had much time to lament her absence. There
was always so much to do.
It was fortunate that after some years of low prices
the wool market had risen considerably and cattle
prices had also strengthened, allowing David to go
out shearing and crutching a little less. And at this
time the MacLeods were able, at last, to pay off the
remaining money owing on Poitrel.
But what was most important in David's mind was
the pending return of his splendid dog Nap. During
the three years that Nap had been away begetting
many fine pups, David had had to take a rather low
key role with his dogs. He had attended the local trial
each year, enjoying great success every time. He had
bred and kept a few young dogs from his father's old

bitches, the best of which would have suited many
people. Yet none of them had been exactly what
David was looking for. They had not possessed the
almost magical qualities that he knew should be
present in a truly outstanding dog.
Bruce McClymont kept his word and David
received a phone call to say that he would return Nap
three years to the day from when he had left High
Peaks. Anne, who realised what a wrench it had been
for her son to let Nap go, sensed how excited David
was about the dog's imminent return. She had hardly
seen him so worked up as when he waited for Mr
McClymont to arrive. This time it was a new green
Ford utility that pulled up in the driveway, and its
driver was marginally older and a little greyer than he
had been three years earlier.
It was then that something quite remarkable happened,
something that neither Bruce McClymont nor
David would ever forget. McClymont unlocked the
padlock on the dog crate and called Nap out. The
big red and tan dog jumped down, sniffed the air and
then raced across to where David was standing a little
distance away. Nap stood before David, wagging his tail, and then turned and trotted across to his old
log kennel. He jumped up on the log and then lay
down with his eyes fixed on David. It was as if the
intervening three years since his departure from
High Peaks had never happened. For Nap, Bruce
McClymont had ceased to exist.
'Well, I'll be damned,' McClymont said. 'Nap sure

knows where he is. It's as if he's never been away.'
David walked across and patted the dog's head
before snapping the chain on his collar. Except for a slight greyness about his muzzle, it was the Nap he knew so well.
'Did he do the job for you?' David asked.
'Best sire dog I ever used,' McClymont said enthusiastically.
'I've got some very good dogs by him,
thank you. I took your advice and put him over his
best daughter, and there's a male that is Nap all over
again for looks. Started real well, too.'
'That's great. I've got a pup for you. We mated
Belle twice and this pup is from her latest litter.'
He took McClymont across to the concrete
floored shed beneath the giant pepperina tree where
all the MacLeod pups were reared. There were six
pups in the pen. David bent over and picked up a dark-blue and tan bitch pup and handed her to
McClymont.
'This pup is very like Belle except that she hasn't
got her short tail. If she's as good as her mother, you won't have any reason to complain.'
'Terrific, David. What do I owe you?'
'Nothing at all. You honoured our agreement and brought Nap back in good order. We should work
together to keep these strains going. It's hard for one person to do it on his own.'
'I'm very grateful to you, David. Any time you want something from me, it's yours.'
David nodded his acknowledgement of the offer.

'So you're going to mate Nap to Belle and work
on those pups?' McClymont asked.
'Yes, I am. We've paid off our debt, and now I
can concentrate one hundred per cent on the dogs.'
'That's great, David. You've waited a long time for
this. The day you go to Canberra, I want to be there,
too.'
'I'll be sure to let you know. I don't expect to be
working dogs there for another three years, though.'
'I guess not,' McClymont agreed. 'Belle has just
had this litter so it will be some time before her pups
develop. Your dogs will still be young 'uns in three
years' time.'
'But old enough if good enough,' David said. 'And
I'm going to take Belle, too.'
'She's a top dog, all right. I don't think there's
been a real top kelpie bitch working in trials since
Kanimbla Betty. They tell me she was a real eye
catcher.'
'I didn't see her so I wouldn't know. She was too
lively early on, by all accounts, but when she won the
Open at the Queensland Championships in '54, she
was the only dog in the Open final to pen her sheep.
Belle has the same cover and footwork that Betty was
supposed to have had.'
'How is your father?' McClymont asked.
'Miles better. He has his voice back now and can
even do odd jobs around the place. He'll enjoy talking
to you.'
So Andy, David and Mr McClymont spent several

hours warning about kelpies, and when McClymont
left for his Riverina property, he was possessed of a great deal more knowledge than he had thought possible
to acquire in one day.
Later that afternoon, once McClymont had left,
David and Andy walked down to the dog yards to
have a look at Nap. 'He knew the place straight off,
Dad. Just trotted away and jumped up on his old
kennel.'
'An intelligent dog like him would never forget
where he came from. When you boil everything
down, it's brains that really matters most in a stock
dog. You can breed plenty of dogs with eye, and with
eye and cast, but you need brains and heart to make
a top dog. I know you realise that, and you were very
wise not sell Nap outright. I wouldn't wait for Belle.
Use Nap on the first bitch that comes on season. That
way, if anything happens to Nap, you'll have some of
his progeny to go on with. You could have dogs going
before Belle's pups are old enough to assess. If you
lose Nap before he has pups, then you've lost everything.
You know what can happen to stock dogs,'
Andy said.
'I suppose if Molly comes on, I could mate her to
Nap.'
'That's the stuff. The sooner you get that trial out
of your system, the sooner you can settle down.'
'You're as bad as Mum.'
'Life's short, Davie. That Catriona is a bonzer girl.
Don't lose her for anything.'

'You've sure changed your tune. I still reckon
Angus wouldn't want me for his son-in-law.'
'Times are changing, mate. I reckon Catriona will
do whatever she wants to do. Sure, Angus is a hard,
shrewd bloke. He'll play the game right to the final
bell; but if Catriona puts her foot down, he won't
risk losing her. You see if I'm not right.'

Catriona hadn't changed her feelings in the slightest.
During her breaks from university she worked King
intensively, and the year after she went away she won
her first Champion Hack award with him. And in
every holiday break she came to High Peaks and rode
the hills with David. It seemed to Anne and Kate to
be a strange sort of relationship, more like that of a
brother and sister working together than a passionate
love affair. David appeared to have no romantic interest
in Catriona, but the girl still had stars in her eyes
when she looked at him. The two women wondered
how long Catriona would be prepared to play the
waiting game. They were aware that she had several
other suitors, and that Angus favoured at least two of
them.
'If David loses her, it will be his own fault,' Anne
complained to her sister one day.
'Damned right,' Kate agreed. 'If Catriona puts up
with this state of affairs, she's a girl in a million.'
Even the matter of Susan Cartwright's wedding
did not provide sufficient impetus to spur David into
action. Susan had finally given up on David and had

become engaged to a young grazier from Coolah by
the name of Michael Hunter.
Catriona was a bridesmaid at the wedding, and
even the MacLeods were invited. This could have
been because of Catriona's friendship with David, but
was more likely due to what David had done the
night Roger and Catriona were assaulted. David had
little time for weddings but finally agreed to attend
at Catriona's behest.
David was the biggest and best-looking young man
there, and Anne took great pleasure in observing the
attention he received. David thought it was a boring
and wasteful afternoon. Most of the young men were
only interested in getting plastered. He put up a
cheerful front, though, and even danced with the
bride.
'You look lovely,' he said as he danced Susan
across the floor.
'Thank you,' she replied.
'I hope everything works out well for you,' he said.
'Thank you, David. So do I,' Susan said.
He was pleased when their dance came to an end
because he could see Catriona watching them. She
looked absolutely stunning. She always did.
'Poor Susan,' Catriona said when they were finally
dancing together.
'Why do you say that?' he asked.
'You know she really wanted you,' Catriona said.
'Well, I never wanted her. Susan must love
Michael enough to marry him,' David said.

'There's a lot more to it than that. Not everybody
gets exactly what they want.'
'You're doing exactly what you want,' David said.
'No I'm not. I'm waiting for you to get this dog
business out of your system.'
David didn't know what to say in reply to that,
and was thankful when the music came to an end.
The next morning he was up in the hills very early.
He was riding a young horse called Gilt, which he had
bred from one of Will White's old brood mares. He
had ridden better horses, but they weren't all crackerjacks.
It was exhilarating to ride across the top of the
range country and feel the early morning breeze on his
face. He sat with his leg thrown across the pommel of
the saddle and drank in the vista that was spread out
before him. Nap sat beside the horse and seemed to be
enjoying the view just as much as David. There might
be grander and more picturesque mountains in the
south, but this range was David's country. One day he
would be buried on the hill above High Peaks homestead.
His grandparents were buried there and his
parents would be buried there, too. He did not think
very often of the afterlife. He was more attracted to his
father's practical philosophy of being honest and
keeping your word. His mother had tried to teach him
Christian values, and he understood that Christians
believed the soul lived on forever, but he did not give
the matter a great deal of his attention, although he
did like to think that the souls of his parents would
remain forever in those ancient hills.

When he returned from his ride, he found his
father waiting for him by the horse yard.
'Tim Sparkes has sent us a message, David,' he
said without preamble. 'Seems he is real crook in
Rockhampton Hospital. He had a bad fall and he
wants to see us both. He told us to bring a horse
float.'
'Hell, that's terrible, Dad. I didn't think there was
a horse that could throw Tim.'
'There's always a horse that can throw you, David.'
'Why the float?'
'I wouldn't be surprised if he had a horse for you.
Trust Tim to think of horses even while he's on his
back.'
'Dad, can you manage it? It's a long way.'
'I have to go, Davie. Can't let my old mate down.
He wouldn't ask us up there without a good reason.'
'Okay, but take it easy. Let me do the driving.
Can Mum handle things here?'
'Kate's going to take a few days off and stay with
her. Jean'll stay on at Poitrel. The sheep are crutched
so they should be right, and Lucky is a good
watchdog.'
They left at five a.m. the next morning and made
it to Toowoomba that night. David insisted that they
stay at a motel, as his mother had laid down the law
about not getting Andy over-tired. The next night
they got as far as Biloela after crossing the palm-lined
Dawson River. It was only a short run into Rockhampton
next morning, and they were at the hospital

by nine o'clock. When they asked for Mr Sparkes
they were introduced to one of the hospital's resident
doctors, who took them into his office and asked
them to sit down.
'I understand that you are very close friends of
Mr Sparkes and have come up from New South
Wales to see him. I should warn you that you're in
for a shock. He was very badly hurt when the horse
threw him. He has severe spinal injuries and will
never walk again. And that is not his only injury. He
is lucky to be alive. You will find him completely
immobilised. Try not to look too surprised when you
see him. He has great spirit and has been looking
forward to your visit. Ready to see him now?'
They followed the doctor to the intensive care
unit, which brought back unpleasant memories of
Andy's stroke.
The unit Tim was in was larger than the one at
their own hospital. A nurse was sitting beside a bed
in which a man lay with a collar of some kind about
his neck and a number of tubes attached to his body.
They never would have recognised that man as Tim
Sparkes. But then he spoke and there was no doubt.
Although huskier, the voice was unmistakable.
'Hi ya, Andy, Davie. How's my old mates? Gee,
it's good to see ya. When did ya leave?'
'The morning after we got your message,' Andrew
answered.
'I just knew you'd drop everything to get here.
Some blokes you can put your wallet on and some

you can't. I was talking to Anne some weeks ago and
she said you'd made a terrific recovery, Andy. Hell,
who'd have believed it, eh, mate? Jeez, look at the size
of young Davie. You're a bloody giant. And I hear
you've been handing out hidings.'
'Nah. Don't know what you're talking about,'
David said.
'Don't try and bullshit me. Anne sent me up the
bloody paper!'
David hadn't been aware that Tim and his mother
had been swapping news regularly. Tim was no letter
writer, but he had rung every few months to find out
how things were going, even more frequently following
Andrew's stroke.
'Should you be talking so much?' David asked and
glanced at the nurse.
'You can have ten minutes with him now and
another ten minutes this afternoon,' she said. 'I will
be just outside the door.'
'Stuff ten minutes,' Tim said. 'These are my mates
and they've come twelve hundred miles to see me.
You come back when I ring for you.'
The nurse threw up her hands and left.
'Bloody Hitlers, these nurses. It's bad enough
having them hold a man's dick in a bottle without
them tellin' ya how long ya can talk to your mates.
Listen. I'm real glad you could get up here. I want to
lay something on the line now you're here. I'm done
for. My spine is buggered and I'll never walk again, let
alone ride a horse. I've got the station and plenty of

money in the bank, so I can afford the medical
expenses . . . full-time nurse and all that crap. I asked
you to bring a horse float because I want you fellas to
have the stallion. He's the best stock-horse sire in
Queensland and I know that you both want to breed.
Take him, and a good mare with him.'
'Tim, that's very generous, but won't you need the
stallion? You sell young horses,' Andy said.
'I've got several good colts by him, Andy. I don't
need him any more. There's still plenty of years and
foals in him. Look, there's a map in the drawer there.
That's how you get to the station from here. My overseer
knows all about it. Grab those horses and some
feed and head off for the high country. It will be a
big relief to know the horse is with you fellas. Say,
how is that mother of yours, Davie? And Kate?'
Tim was more keen to hear what had happened
at High Peaks since his last visit than to discuss the
business of his stallion any further - and it took a lot
longer than ten minutes to tell him! The nurse fluttered
in and out, but she did not have the heart or
the courage to ask Andy and David to leave. It was
obvious how much her patient was enjoying the visit.
'Look, Tim, we mustn't stay too long. We'll have
some lunch and come back later, eh?'
'Great, but don't hang about on my account. You
grab those horses and clear out.'
'We aren't going to do that,' Andy said. 'There's
a lot to talk about. We don't have to bolt back.'
Andrew and David stayed in Rockhampton fortwo days before going out to Tim's station. It was
about a hundred miles north of Rockhampton, and
not difficult to locate using Tim's map.
After they had inspected the horses they were left
in no doubt that Tim knew his business. The stallion
was magnificent and as quiet as a lamb. He was a bay
with a white star on his forehead and two white stockings
on his hind legs. There were two lovely mares bay
in colour, like their sire - and chock-full of
quality.
'Beats me how a fella could pick between those
mares,' Andrew said. "I hate having to try and pick
the best.'
'The boss said that I was to run some cattle in if
you want to try the mares,' the overseer said as Andy
and David inspected the two mares in Tim's big horse
yard.
Andrew shook his head. 'No need for that. If Tim
picked these mares out for us, there's no need to try
them. He's spot-on with horses and he knows what
we're looking for. Either mare would be right.'
The overseer nodded. 'I reckon you're right.
They're a bonzer pair. The stallion gets them like that
year in, year out.'
Finally, Andrew let David make the selection. The
mare he chose seemed to be a slightly freer mover
than her mate but there was almost nothing between
them. She had a peculiar-shaped blaze on her head,
which he liked, and a great pair of eyes. David
thought she looked to be clever. They loaded the

horses, threw in some hay and chaff, and took off.
But they weren't heading home to High Peaks just
yet. There was one more session at the hospital with
Tim. It was hard to say goodbye, and tears were
brought to the eyes of even those three hard nuts.
'What a way for a bloke like Tim to end up,'
David said as they drove out of Rockhampton.
'If you mess about with young horses long enough,
you're sure to get hurt, but it beats me how a horse
by this stallion could be so mean,' Andrew said and
scratched his jaw.
'It wasn't a horse by this stallion, Dad,' David
corrected him. 'It was a mate's horse. Tim told me
all about it while you were out of the room. I just
don't know how Tim will handle being an invalid,'
David said.
'Nor me,' Andrew agreed. 'I suppose you realise
that this stallion could bring us in a fair bit of money
if we stand him?'
'Gee, Dad, I haven't got time to mess about with
a heap of outside mares. I think we should use the
horse for our own mares and keep his progeny
exclusive.'
'It's just that he isn't a young horse. If we were
going to stand him, we should do it fairly soon,'
Andrew said.
'I don't have the time for that sort of thing, and
you can't go playing about with mares in your condition.
I want to win that National before I do anything
with horses. If we mate our best mares to this

old fellow, we'll have young horses ready for handling
in about three years' time. That should be just about
right for me.'
'More important right now is the question of
where we are going tonight,' Andy said.
'Somewhere north of Toowoomba, I reckon.'
They had packed their swags and cooking gear
because they knew they would need to camp out on
the way home with the horses.
It was almost dark before David spotted the creek
he had seen on the upward trip. "While David walked
and fed and watered the two horses, Andrew collected
kindling and branches for a fire. It was cool enough
to enjoy the fire's warmth, and after they had cooked
and eaten a rough but filling feed of steak and tomatoes,
they climbed into their swags and lay back, well
satisfied with the camp they had made.
'If we could get away real early, we could be home
tomorrow evening,' Andrew suggested.
'That would be a big day for you, Dad. It's a good
ten hours' drive from Toowoomba to home.'
'If we can get away by four, we could do it easily,
even with a halfway stop to let the horses off,' Andrew
said.
'We can give it a go, but if you're feeling tired, let
me know and we'll camp. Mum said that I wasn't to
push you in any way,' David said.
'I've got a very good idea what Mum would have
told you,' Andrew said, grinning.
He was nearly back to what he was, David

thought. Andy couldn't work like he used to, but he
had all his wits about him. It was just great to be able
to talk to him again.
They were up at three a.m. and left just after four.
David drove and made several stops so the trip was
as easy as possible for Andrew and the horses. They
stopped for lunch at a good-sized creek north of Glen
Innes. The horses had a decent drink and nibbled
some of the fresh grass along the creek.
'That should do them until we get home,' David
said. 'You okay, Dad?'
'Never better, Davie.'
When they reached Tamworth, David rang to let
his mother know where they were.
It was still light when they arrived back at High
Peaks, and Anne and Kate were standing near the
horse yards waiting for them. David embraced his
mother and Kate, who were both obviously relieved
to have them back.
'Is Dad all right?' Anne whispered in David's ear.
'Right as rain, Mum.'
The two men slept soundly that night, and David
was up at six next morning. He had his usual toast
and cup of tea and went out to give the dogs their
early morning run. He was currently working on a
dog from Belle, whom he had called Jack. Jack had
been sired by a son of his father's great old dog, Ben.
Jack looked like being a fair three-sheep dog, although
he was not a world-beater. He was a dog to put some
polish on while he waited for Nap's pups.

Andrew had suggested taking Jack to a Maiden
Trial.
'You wouldn't be disgraced,' he said.
'I don't know, Dad. I don't think he's good
enough to cart about. I can do a lot better.'
'Look here, David. Mum and I have been talking
and we reckon it's about time you had a spell. Why
don't you take a few days off and drive down to Canberra
and just have a look at the National? You'll get
a good idea of the standard of the dogs and the
layout. You could learn a lot.'
David thought about his father's suggestion and
decided that it was worth taking up. He rang the
secretary of the Sheepdog Trials Association and
booked a caravan on the ground. He wouldn't enter
a dog, not even Belle, but would simply go as an
onlooker.
When he finally took off, he left behind a very
relieved family who had never before been able to
persuade him to take time off.
He was full of trepidation about negotiating
Sydney and handling its traffic, but he took his time,
and with the aid of a meticulously marked map from
Kate he finally made it to the southern outskirts of
the city. He hadn't driven in such traffic before and
wondered how people could endure it day in and day
out. He drove at his leisure and tried to look at everything
he passed. The variation in country amazed
him; and none was more surprising than that around
Gunning. He had heard about the high prices paid

for Yass and Gunning wool and expected that it
would be green and lush like New England. The
hard, flinty nature of the country around Gunning
surprised him, but he supposed that it was a factor
in the production of the very clean wool for which
Gunning was famous.
He drove to the Canberra Showground from Yass
and did not have to negotiate Canberra itself,
although his mother and Kate had instructed him not
to come home without seeing the city. David decided
to wait until the trials were over before becoming a
tourist.
He arrived at the showground towards evening of
the second day of competition and saw that most of
the caravans seemed to be occupied by triallers. There
were dogs everywhere; some were locked in small
mesh crates or on the backs of utilities and some were
staked out beside vehicles. He was disappointed not
to bump into anyone he knew that first evening on
the ground.
The next morning the first dogs were working
quite early. He had stayed in bed an hour longer than
usual, and had heard the first handlers and their dogs
being called while he was cooking his breakfast. There
had been a fog across the whole showground and
some of it persisted as he saw a black and white dog
being walked through the gate onto the ground. He
was in no hurry, as he knew there would be plenty
of dogs to watch over the next few days. It was ideal
having a caravan on the ground because it was a snug

place to get out of the wind, which could be very
cold indeed.
After breakfast he found a seat in the stand behind
the casting peg and settled down to watch the dogs.
Some of the names of the handlers working these
dogs were familiar to him. It was not until nearly
lunchtime that he saw anyone he actually knew. The
first was Harry Marchant, who had several times
worked dogs at their local trials. Harry was working
a young kelpie and border collie-cross he had trialled
at their last local event. Unfortunately it wasn't doing
very well at the National. It was short on its cast and
came on to its sheep too quickly. David marked it
down on his list and penned in some remarks for his
father.
Most of the dogs were border collies, although a
lot of them looked as if they had a splash of kelpie
blood in them. There were not many of the heavy
coated Old Country-type border collies he had
expected to see. The highest score for the day was 91
out of a possible 100, and while David felt that
although most of the dogs were well handled, very
few had exceptional holding ability at the obstacles.
They seemed to be over-commanded, as if their handlers
had either taken the initiative out of their dogs
or they were not confident enough of their dogs' abilities
to allow them to demonstrate natural cover and
holding traits. Only two kelpies worked that first day
of David's stay, and both of them overworked and
consequently stirred their sheep too much. One kelpie

scored 72 and the other 68. David knew he could do
much better than this.
The next morning he bumped into Harry Mar
chant, who was walking a dog round the ground's
perimeter.
'G'day, David. This is a surprise. Never seen you
in these parts before. Where's your dogs?'
'At home. I'm here on a bit of a holiday, actually.
First one I've had since I left school.'
'You should have your dogs here. I've told a lot of
people about your kelpies.'
'I'll come back in a year or two and bring some
dogs.'
'That's great. I'll look forward to it. Now I have
to go and walk this dog, David. I'll look you up later
on.'
Harry spread the word that David MacLeod was
on the ground, and several kelpie handlers came and
introduced themselves. Harry had told the southern
triallers about David's exploits, like winning a trial at
the age of ten. David and Andrew had been only
names to most of the interstate kelpie men so they
did not pass up the opportunity to meet the son of
a legend.
Talking to these handlers filled in most of the
morning so David did not see all the dogs work their
rounds, but that afternoon he saw a familiar figure
get out of a green Ford utility: Bruce McClymont.
McClymont went straight across to where David was
standing.'You didn't tell me you were coming here, David,'
he said. 'No dogs?'
'No, just come for a looksee. It was a last-minute
decision.'
'It's great that you're here, anyway. Come and
meet Mona. I've told her a lot about you, and she
sure loved Nap.'
David was taken across to the McClymont caravan
where he was introduced to a strapping, dark-haired
woman who seemed to take an immediate liking to
him. David was sat down and given a huge afternoon
tea, and then found it hard to get away.
From that afternoon on, David hardly had a minute to himself. If he was not with someone watching
dogs on the ground, he was in someone else's
caravan drinking tea. His early nights had also come
to an end, as he was expected to join Bruce or one
of the other triallers for a yarn late into the night.
Despite the sidetracking hospitality, David did
manage to see a lot of dogs, and these included dogs
owned by nearly all of the major sheepdog figures of the time. He noted their techniques and the way their
dogs worked, or were allowed to work, and stored all these observations away for the future. The scores
crept up as the better dogs worked, and the top dog
was on 96 when the Open Trial concluded. The top
scoring dogs had to work in the final and the cut- off score was 92. That meant that only four points
separated the top-scoring dog from the lowest-scoring
finalist. With so few points separating them, any of

the eight finalists could have won the National.
A bitter wind began to blow as the first of the
finalists came out to work. The first thing David
noticed was that the sheep became more difficult to
handle. They did not stand and wait for the dog as
a lot of the sheep had done in the first round. They
walked or trotted into the wind in the manner of
sheep down through the centuries. This meant that a
dog had either a short cast on one side or a long cast
on the alternate side. This posed the most interesting
mailing he had seen since he had arrived on the
ground.
In between the first and second finalist, he ran
back to the caravan for a warmer coat and then
resumed his seat behind the casting peg. The wind
blew all that afternoon and it became progressively
colder as the other dogs worked. One dog crossed
while casting to the short side and only two dogs
scored above 90. The border collie that won the trial
was, in David's opinion, a very good dog with a tonne
of strength. It also had the ability to roll sheep in at
the obstacles. The old chap who worked this dog gave
it more leeway than most of the other handlers did.
He seemed to have confidence in the dog's ability to
do the job. David felt it was a pleasing result.
At the end of the day David took several pictures
of the course. It was too cold to hang about for long,
and he was on his way to the van when Bruce
McClymont caught up with him.
'David, you must have dinner with us tonight.'

'That's very decent of you, Bruce, if you're sure
it's not too much trouble.'
'I insist. I want to talk dogs with you. You'll probably
be off in the morning.'
David shook his head. 'I promised Mum and Kate
that I'd have a look at Canberra. I'm told it's a weird
place to get about in but I'll give it a go.'
'I'll take you around myself. I've been several times
and know my way about. Mona and I will take an
extra day and show you the main places.'
'That's very kind of you, but you don't have to.'
'I want to. It's a very interesting place and I
suspect a lot has changed since I was there last. You
simply must see the War Museum. It's inspiring,
absolutely inspiring.'
After dinner that night McClymont wanted to
talk. He wanted to know what David thought of the
dogs he had seen and how they compared with the
MacLeod kelpies.
David, like his father, was loath to praise his dogs
to other people. They were tough bushmen who
believed in letting their dogs and horses speak for
themselves by their performances. But McClymont
kept pushing him to make a comparison.
'Bruce, what you've got here at this trial is a collection
of the best trial handlers in the country; a lot
of good handlers working a lot of well-educated dogs.
It's a very professional operation. If you want my
honest opinion, I don't think any of these dogs have
any more natural ability than our dogs. I like a dog

to work more naturally than a lot of these handlers
allow their dogs to do. Some of them have taken a lot
of the natural ability out of their dogs. They wouldn't
be any use in our country where a dog has to think for
itself. But you do win trials with push-button dogs, and
that is what these handlers are after.'
'Do you still think you can win the National?'
'Yes,' David said very calmly. 'I will win it, or at
least give it a big shake.'
He made this pronouncement without any trace
of bravado, but in such a quietly confident manner
that McClymont felt that perhaps the young fellow
really could pull it off.
'But first I have to get another couple of good dogs
and then take them around the country, getting them
used to strange grounds.'
'My own view is that I wouldn't swap Nap and
Belle for any dog I saw here, except maybe the
winning dog. When they work, they take your breath
away,' McClymont said.
'You're just a biased kelpie breeder,' David joked.
'What it boils down to is that talk is cheap. Anyone
can talk up a dog. In my book, a dog has to do the
job against other dogs to be considered a top dog.
I came down here to have a look at the dogs and the
course so that I would have a better idea of what's
ahead of me. I know now. I've seen some good
animals, but if my dogs could handle the strange
conditions, they could do anything. So it's up to me
to see that they get acclimatised.'

'You be sure to let me know when you'll be back
here.'
'I'll let you know.'
The next day David had his tour of Canberra, with
Bruce and Mona as tour guides, and the morning
after that he headed for the Sydney suburb of
Kogarah, where he stayed a night with his grandparents.
He
arrived back home at High Peaks at lunchtime
the next day. Most of that afternoon and evening was
spent warning with his father about the trial and what
he had seen in Canberra. It had been an interesting
trip and he felt all the better for having gone. Most
importantly, he felt that his dream was one step closer to becoming a reality.



















Chapter Twenty-three





The day Belle whelped her litter to Nap, David
stayed close to the house and regularly checked to see
how things were going. At the end of the day Belle
had given birth to six pups. David knelt down and
examined them one by one. The sexes were even:
three males and three females. There were red and
tans, blue and tans and one fawn and tan female.
Fawns were not favoured, not only because of their
usually poor coats but because sheep did not work as
well for light-coloured dogs. Sheep were inclined to
be more curious about these dogs and 'drew' on to
them. This often meant that a light-coloured dog had
to be very 'strong' to shift sheep. If this happened in
a three-sheep trial, it could cause problems. Andrew
had never retained a fawn or a fawn and tan pup
and, because of the difficulties with their coat, David
did not intend to either. He knew that Shaun
Covers, who was working on a big property on the

Cassilis side, would take a Belle pup irrespective of
colour, so that left him with five pups. He would
keep all five and run them on to pick the top pups
out of them.
By the time they were four weeks of age, the five
pups were reduced to four when a huge wedge-tailed
eagle snatched one up in its claws. Anne heard the
dogs barking furiously and ran out of the house just
as the pup was being taken skyward. If she'd had a
rifle in her hand, she would have tried to shoot it,
but the eagle would have dropped the pup, which
would have killed it anyway. Two males and two
females remained.
Anne hated to have to tell David that one of his
precious pups had been taken, but it had to be done.
They had never lost a pup to eagles before. Cursing
his luck with dogs, David covered the pup yard with
fine wire and did not allow the pups to leave it unless
someone was there to watch them.
David started handling the pups when they were
eight weeks old. They were fitted with light collars, to
which he attached long lengths of cord. They were also
tied up for brief periods each day. One of the males
was a red and tan like its sire and the other was a blue
and tan. From the outset the red and tan seemed to be
the better pup of the two. The two bitch pups matched
the colours of the males, but in their case it was the
blue and tan that appeared to be the better pup. On
the strength of these early impressions, David put in a
lot more time with what he considered to be the two

best pups of the litter. As the months went by, his first
impressions were confirmed. The two pups he liked
were so promising that he was beginning to feel quite
excited. He called the red and tan male Clancy, and
the blue and tan bitch Needle.
Often he would take the two pups to town on the
back of the utility so that travelling became second
nature to them. David wanted to get the dogs completely
used to strange noises, such as loudspeakers,
as well as unfamiliar grounds and their different surfaces.
At first he took Belle along with her offspring,
which initially helped to minimise their concern about
being transported away from their familiar haunts.
David was fairly committed to working Belle at the
National and he reckoned it wouldn't hurt her seasoned
bitch though she was - to be carted about.
The two young dogs exhibited different natural
tendencies. Clancy had a strong natural left-hand cast
while Needle preferred to cast to her right. David
worked on these weaknesses and before long he had
both dogs casting equally well on either side.
The biggest problem affecting the performance of
kelpies in trials was their tendency to 'come on' to
their sheep too quickly. David put in a lot of time
making sure that his dogs did not bustle sheep. He
obtained permission to work them at the local showground
and carted sheep in for the dogs to work. He
was well aware that dogs usually worked better at home
than away and that this had to be given consideration
so that nerves did not affect performance.

David had been lucky to get two dogs with natures
like their parents'. In David's view, Clancy and
Needle had the right blend of temperament and
working instinct. They were kept out of the yard and
only worked on small, lively mobs in the hills. They
were given plenty of casting practice along with mob
work, and they were kept off three-sheep work until
they were about eighteen months of age. Then David
introduced them to obstacles.
When David could stop and sit Clancy and
Needle a quarter-mile away and cast them right round
the hill paddock above the house, he felt that he was
more than three-quarters of the way along the track
to Canberra. The rest of the training involved steadiness,
positioning and off-balance work. Most good
kelpies are born with instinctive balance. To get a dog
to work off-balance is against a dog's natural inclination.
At a sheepdog trial a handler is required to
stand in a small circle at one side of each and every
obstacle. To work sheep through these obstacles, a
dog is actually working off-balance. A good obstacle
dog must also be trained so that it can be moved
freely from side to side. If a dog is too sticky in eye,
or too hard in nature, it will not make a great obstacle
dog because the sheep will nearly always beat it round
the wings of the obstacle and cause a loss of points,
and perhaps the loss of the trial.
There were a few freak dogs who were born obstacle
dogs. The great black kelpie dog Wilga was one.
David believed that to witness such a dog working

three sheep at an obstacle was one of life's great
experiences. He sensed that both Clancy and Needle
possessed this wonderful old-time kelpie movement.
It was not until he began working them on obstacles
that he was absolutely sure of it. It was at this stage
that he knew he had two young dogs he could take
to Canberra. He did not even let on to his father
what he really thought of Needle and Clancy.
All of this work was carried out over a period of
a year or so. Training a sheepdog is not something
you can do overnight. During this time David often
worked his dogs either very early in the morning or
very late at night, by moonlight. Only his immediate
family knew how much time and effort he was devoting
to his dogs, on top of his normal work on both
properties.
Catriona began to take an interest in the training
of Clancy and Needle, and sometimes accompanied
David when he took the dogs off into the hills for
steady work. She was still unsure about his feelings
for her, although her own love for him was as strong
as ever.
One day in late summer David came up for lunch
to find his father waiting for him at the top of the
steps. He could tell by the look on Andy's face that
something was amiss.
'What is it, Dad?' he asked with some trepidation.
'It's real bad news, Davie. Tim Sparkes is dead.'
'Tim dead? Oh, no. Do you know any more than
that? Did he die in hospital?'

'No. I'm afraid to say that he shot himself. Seems
he left a note, saying that he wasn't going to live the
rest of his life as a cripple. He asked for his papers,
which he kept in a locked briefcase along with a
pistol. That's how he did it.'
David sat down on the top step and tried to come
to terms with what his father had just told him. It
was almost impossible to believe that Tim was gone.
He had always been so full of life. It was Tim who
had taught him how to box, and Tim who had always
come up with the right horse for him. It wasn't fair.
Life just wasn't fair. Tim had so much to live for: a
good life, a property and plenty of money. Tim had
been a mate, the oldest mate he had, and now he was
dead. David couldn't believe that he would never
again read Tim's name in Hoofs and Horns magazine,
unless it was his obituary.
'Hell, how could they have slipped up like that,
letting Tim get hold of a pistol?' David said angrily.
'I reckon Tim knew what he was doing, Davie.
He would have hated being totally dependent on
other people.'
'But he's gone, Dad. Gone. We'll never see him
again. Bloody hell. It sure makes you think about
things.'
David got up and paced along the verandah.
Andrew saw the tears in his eyes and had a good idea
what he was feeling.
'Tim wouldn't want you to pull back on his account,
Davie. No way. He would want you to go on.'

"What did Mum say?'
'She's having a good old cry. You know she had a
soft spot for Tim. She had a bit of trouble getting used
to him in the early days, like everyone did at first but
she soon woke up to the fact that he was a fair-dinkum
bloke. A bit rough, but pure gold. It'll be a long time
before we have a better friend than Tim. "Will "White's
one. I reckon we have a lot to thank them for.'
'Aw, hell, I feel awful. We should have brought
him down here where we could have seen him more
often. Maybe he wouldn't have done it, then.'
'Don't crucify yourself, mate. It was Tim's decision.
It's done, he's gone and that's that. Life has to
go on. Make him proud of you, Davie. That's what
he would have wanted.'

It was a long, tiring trip to Rockhampton, made all the
more difficult because it was done in the knowledge that
the larger-than-life Tim Sparkes would not be there to
welcome them. The funeral was a big one, as Tim had
been a very popular fellow on the rodeo circuit. There
were many well-known roughriders and campdrafters
in the church and at the graveside service. David and
Andrew were depressed to know that they would never
see Tim again. He had been such an individual character;
a long streak of a man who had appeared to be
indestructible. After the funeral they slipped away and,
with David and Anne sharing the driving, they made a
fairly quick return journey.
Life had to go on and the National was not all

that far away. This time they would be hiring two
caravans, one for David and one for his parents. It
would be the first time all three of them had had any
kind of holiday together.
Following Tim's death, Andrew and Anne noted
that David became very quiet. He would ride away
into the hills with Clancy and Needle and they would
not see him again for hours. When asked by his father
how the dogs were performing he would fall back on
his old response of, 'Well enough'. His work with the
dogs did not abate, and if anything he seemed more
fiercely determined than ever. Then, one evening,
he walked into the house and without preamble
addressed himself to his father.
'You feel like walking up to the top paddock,
Dad?'
'Seeing you're inviting me, I reckon I do,' Andrew
said. 'You got something special to show me?'
'Maybe,' David stalled.
Andrew was aware that David had built extra
obstacles in his old casting paddock. These obstacles
simulated the National Trial course exactly. He was also
aware that David had been timing the dogs here. It was
a tougher task to pen here than at Canberra because the
sheep all wanted to bolt back to the top of the hill.
Andy sat himself down on the big log seat and
waited for David to come up the hill with the two
young dogs. He had been very keen to see these dogs
in action, but David had put him off every time he
had asked about them.

David tied Clancy up on the fence and sat Needle
down behind him. He walked about twenty yards
away and then cast her up the fence. She went out
like an arrow and hugged the fence until she was
perhaps thirty yards behind the sheep. From that
point on the young bitch gave a flawless exhibition
of control. When she had penned, Andrew clapped
his hands and grinned.
'What do you reckon, Dad?' David asked as he
walked back to Clancy.
'I reckon you've got yourself a real class bitch
there.'
'You do, eh? Let's see what Clancy can do.'
After Clancy had completed his tasks, Andrew
walked over to David and put his arm on his son's
shoulder. He seemed so affected by what he had seen
that words would not come.
'The best, the absolute best young dog I have ever
seen, Davie. The bitch is good, but Clancy - well,
he's very special,' he said at last.
'I'm pleased you like him, Dad. I reckon we can
go to the National now.'
But two weeks later, tragedy struck. David was
working Clancy on a hillside one morning and two
wethers broke away. Clancy wheeled to block them
and one big, rangy wether - which David thought
was probably pea-struck - ran straight at the dog. It
was travelling very fast, and it hit Clancy and threw
him several feet to one side and hard up against a
dead stump. David heard the dog's yelp and sent his

horse plunging across the hill to where Clancy stood.
Clearly, there was something badly wrong with one
back leg.
David dismounted and knelt beside his dog.
Clancy whined and licked David's hand. Part of
Clancy's left back leg was swinging free. It had been
fractured badly. There was no hope of taking Clancy
to Canberra this year.
David lifted the dog in his arms and placed him
across the saddle before mounting. 'I'm sorry if it
hurts you, Clancy, but I have to get you to the vet.'
It was a very slow ride back to the homestead. David placed the dog on the front seat of the utility
before going into the house to tell his parents what
had happened.
'Clancy's got a broken leg,' he said as he walked
into the kitchen. 'I'm taking him to the vet.'
'Is it bad?' Andrew asked.
'I reckon so. Looks as if it's broken right through.'
'Oh, David,' Anne exclaimed with real sorrow in
her eyes. 'Does this mean you can't take him to
Canberra?'
'Not this year,' he said, and without another word
he walked out.
Anne's face fell. She knew how hard David had
worked to get the two young dogs ready for the
National and what it meant to him. And how would
Catriona take another year's postponement?
Clancy returned home later that morning with a
pin in his leg and the vet's assurance that his leg

would heal satisfactorily. David had stopped at the
mailbox on the way in and he threw the pile of mail
down on the table and slumped into a chair.
Anne put a cup of tea and some cake in front
of him and glanced across at her husband. 'Why
don't you go to Canberra with Belle and Needle,
David?'
David looked at her and shook his head. He wasn't
going to Canberra without Clancy. What even his
father didn't know was that Clancy was a freak trial
dog. Needle was very good and Belle was brilliant on
certain sheep but Clancy was a freak. He reckoned he
could get into the finals with both bitches, but he
doubted if they would be able to win.
'No Clancy, no Canberra,' he said. 'He's the dog
I need in that company. We'll simply have to wait
another year.'
Anne picked up the mail and began leafing
through it. 'There's a letter here for you, David,' she
said, handing it over to him.
David didn't care about anything right now so he
put the letter in his shirt pocket and went down to
feed the dogs. When he had finished feeding them,
he took the letter out of his pocket and sat down on
Nap's log kennel while he read it. The letter was from
a firm of solicitors in Rockhampton and its contents
were startling.
It seemed that Tim Sparkes had left him his
cattle property and all its livestock, not to mention
a considerable sum of money. The news was so

breathtaking that he had trouble absorbing it. Surely
Tim had close relatives he would have left the property
to? David read the letter again. There was no
mistake - he was the sole owner.
The ramifications of this news were staggering.
Now, in terms of cattle and property, not even
Angus Campbell would have more assets than the
MacLeod family. They would actually own three or
four times as many head of cattle than the Campbells.
This wonderful gift meant that the MacLeods
would be financially secure well into the future.
They would now be real graziers, all because of good
old Tim.
David went up to the shed where he had placed
Clancy. The dog's leg had been put in plaster. David
looked down at him and Clancy wagged his tail.
'We'll be there next year, mate. You get that leg
healed up, and we'll be there.'
David made his way back to the house. He reckoned
that when his parents saw the letter there
wouldn't be much more work done for the rest of
the day.
Anne's sharp eyes sensed immediately that David
had received news of some kind.
'David, what's happened? More bad news?' she
asked.
'Hardly,' he said, handing the letter across to his
father. He reckoned he should read it since Tim had
been his old mate. Anne leant over his shoulder as he
read it through.

Dear David MacLeod,

In accordance with the Will drawn up by us
for our late valued client, Mr Timothy Gordon
Sparkes of Aberfeldy' Station, Broadsound,
Queensland, it is our pleasure to inform you
that you have been named as sole beneficiary
in the estate of the abovenamed Mr Sparkes.

The Estate comprises:

Firstly, the property 'Aberfeldy', west of
Broadsound and comprising 48 000 acres; and
all of the stock running on this property: 3500
head of cattle at last muster, and horses to the
number of about 100, mares, yearlings and
some older stock horses.

Secondly, a four-bedroom holiday home of about
forty-two squares on half an acre of land (two
blocks) at Yeppoon, which is in good condition
and was the retirement home of Mr Sparkes's
late uncle.

Thirdly, funds to the order of $223 000.

In his Will, our late client expressed the hope
that you would consider retaining the present
overseer, Donald Alan Morgan, as your overseer
or manager. Our client considered Mr Morgan
to be very competent and entirely trustworthy.

As you are now the beneficiary of the late Mr

Sparkes's estate, we would urge you to come and
see us at your earliest opportunity to complete
the necessary paperwork. In the meantime, a
phone call advising us of the receipt of this letter
would be appreciated.


We remain yours faithfully,


Tristram Jennings
Michael, Jennings & Duncan



David stood back and watched his parents' reactions.
His mother's eyes were glazed at first and then soon
filled with tears. His father had frozen, unable to lift
his eyes from the letter.
A hundred thoughts flashed through Anne's mind.
The uppermost was that this was a miracle. Now
David could marry Catriona! He was a wealthy man,
and - in terms of money at least - he could speak to
Angus as an equal.
Andrew reread the letter and let the facts sink into
his startled brain. He had worked hard all his life,
busted himself, so that they might have a measure of
prosperity in later life and so David would have a
future on the land. And now it seemed as if all their
financial worries were over. If anything happened to
him, Anne and David need never worry about money.
Tim's overwhelmingly generous gesture was just so
unexpected. Andrew didn't know what to say.

'I told you he thought a lot of you, Davie,' Andrew
said at last.
'I would much prefer Tim to be alive and as we
knew him,' David said in a broken voice.
'We all feel the same, David,' Anne said with tears
running down her face. 'But it is wonderful that Tim
thought so much of you he should give you all he had.'
'It was Dad who was Tim's old mate, and you always
looked after him, Mum. He regarded us as family.'
'What a great help this would have been a few
years ago,' Anne said. She was thinking of how Andy
had not hesitated to return to shearing to help pay
off Poitrel, and in so doing had brought on the stroke
that had almost killed him.
'What's done is done,' Andrew said. 'No good
talking of what might have been. Davie, you'll have
to ring these solicitors first thing Monday morning.
Now that you aren't going to Canberra we can shoot
up there and see them before going out to the property.
I think you should also advise them that Don
Morgan is to be retained. That should put his mind
at rest. Just as well we've got a new vehicle, as it looks
as if we'll be making regular trips up north.'
'Not to mention that we now have another good
reason to go - a holiday home,' Anne said.
'I think we should consider employing someone
to help out here,' Andy continued. 'We can't keep
relying on Kate. What we need is a reliable young
person who can milk and do odd jobs as well as help
out at shearing and crutching time. Davie, you can't

do it all plus work your dogs and handle young horses. There's no sense in owning three properties
and busting your gut forever.'
'I never thought I would hear you say that, Andy,' Anne said and winked at David.
'Just commonsense, Anne. I don't want to see David end up like me. Seriously, I think we ought to look at employing someone - but not just anyone:
someone who is interested in stock horses and could learn to handle a few when things are slack. I would prefer to pay the right person a bit more money.
What do you think, Anne?'
'I'm all for it. But we'll have to put it to Kate,
since she is a director.'
'I think we ought to have Kate and Jean over for dinner tomorrow, to celebrate,' David suggested. 'Let's keep this news on ice until then. We can ask Kate about Dad's suggestion. She has to feel she's involved, too. Where would we have been without her?'
'The first thing Kate will ask is where an employee
would live,' Anne said.
'Maybe we'd have to build a small cottage,'
Andrew suggested.
'Well, Davie, I reckon this softens the blow about
not going to Canberra,' Anne said.
'It does, but I'll still be going. Tim would have wanted me to go, and to do well.'





Chapter Twenty-four





The day after David received the letter from
Tristram Jennings, there was a feeling of change in
the air. David had ordered a new utility with the
expectation that he would be working dogs at that
year's National. He'd had a mesh crate made especially
for it, modelled on what he could remember
of Bruce McClymont's cage. The crate had a double
roof to cut down heat, and four compartments. He
brought the new crate back to High Peaks just
before lunch. He was not back long when a thunderstorm
passed over the property. There was a second
one later in the afternoon, and between them the
storms dumped over three inches of rain on the land.
The hill country had been very dry and rain was
just what was needed before the onset of cooler
weather. But the storms did not clear the air. Sunday
broke very humid and with the threat of more
storms to come.

Catriona had asked if they could have a picnic in
the hills. David had told her that he had discovered
a very big cave on Wallaby Rocks and she was eager
to see it. It was on the highest point of Poitrel and
about the same height as the peak of Yellow Rock.
David had breakfast and saddled his Sparkes-bred
mare so that he would be ready to leave as soon as Catriona arrived. He tied a billy can onto a saddle
and then buckled on a saddlebag.
'Catriona is just coming round the bend, David,'
Anne called from the front verandah.
'Good. I hope she brought her rainskins.'
'Got matches?' Andrew asked.
David nodded. 'I think I'll leave the billy and some
matches up at the cave I found. When things settle
down a bit, we should all go up there for a picnic.
I mean the lot of us: Kate and Jean, too.'
'That would be nice, dear,' Anne said. 'We haven't
had a picnic for a while.'
David took the food he had prepared and hurried
out to his horse where he waited for Catriona to
arrive. She was driving a Ford utility and pulling a single-horse trailer. He could see that King was saddled with a stock saddle for the ride into the
hills.
When Catriona pulled up she gave him her usual
flashing smile and cheery greeting. 'Hi, David. We're
sure to get another storm. Do you think we should
be going so far?'
'I really want to go to Poitrel. I want to show you

that great cave I told you about. If we can get that
far, the storm won't worry us.'
So they rode up through the foothills below Yellow
Rock and then took a new track on the western side
of the mountain. This slope offered far easier going
than the dangerous eastern slope down which David
had ridden Catriona's grey pony. The track led on to
the boundary fence between High Peaks and Poitrel.
They went through the mesh gate and then turned
towards the east.
'We head up there,' David said. 'The highest point
on Poitrel is almost as high as the peak of Yellow
Rock but not as dangerous. Before we get to the top,
we detour down the hill and along the face below the
peak. That's where the cave is and that's where we'll
have lunch.'
Catriona looked up at the rapidly darkening sky
and thought that they would be very lucky to make
the cave before the storm broke. There were ominous
rumblings and the air was so heavy it seemed to be
pressing them towards the ground. The clouds were
purple-green and away to the east lightning ripped up
and down in great jagged streaks.
'Not scared are you, Cat?' David asked.
'I'm glad I'm not doing this on my own,' she
replied.
'To tell you the truth, I don't like storms either.
Come on, it's getting close.'
The first big drops of rain started to fall as they
rode off the slope and along the eastern face of

Wallaby Rocks. 'Head for that split tree,' David
shouted above the noise of the thunder. He pointed
to the remnants of a big dead box tree that had been
shattered by lightning some time in the past. The tree
was in amongst an area of massive rocks. Immediately
below the tree, the track - which was really a sheep
pad - dipped quite sharply, and off to her right
Catriona finally spotted the opening of a big cave.
'Get off and follow me,' David said. He led his
horse into the cave and Catriona followed closely
behind. The area Catriona found herself in was only
an entrance, a kind of anteroom, to a much bigger
cave that was reached through an opening several
feet across. 'Hang on to my bridle for a minute, Cat.
I want to grab some wood before the rain soaks it.'
David dashed out of the cave and began picking
up kindling and some bigger sticks. By the time he
had gathered an armful, the rain had begun in
earnest. Catriona watched him as he appeared
through the curtain of water. He put the wood down
and reached for the bridles. 'I'll tie the two neddies
to that root,' he said, and pointed to where a thick
tree root had thrust its way between two rocks. Then
he unsaddled the horses and brought the saddles and
rugs across to where he had dumped the pile of sticks.
When he had spread the rugs on the ground near the
back wall of the cave, he took from his saddlebag a
motley collection of goods. There were two packets
of food, a package wrapped in newspaper and two
boxes of matches in clear plastic. The package in

newspaper yielded a small amount of fine bark kindling,
which he laid on the paper and lit. It flared
up, and he fed the flame with small sticks from the
pile beside him. When the fire was well under way,
he took the billy and placed it on the ground at the
cave's entrance. Water was pouring off the roof and
the billy filled to overflowing in two or three minutes.
'We'll have a hot cuppa in no time,' he said.
Catriona stood and watched him as he worked.
She always marvelled at the smooth way David did
everything. 'Do you never forget anything, David?'
she asked.
'Now and again, Cat. I had a first-rate teacher.
Dad got me into the habit of making a mental check
of everything I might need for a job. Too far to go back
for something from here. I mean, where would we be if
I had forgotten the matches? We'd be tea-less.'
'And I suppose you even remembered to bring the
tea and sugar?'
'Sure did. They're in the saddlebag. Condensed
milk, too. I never travel without those things. If the
worst comes to the worst, you can always sit down
and have a mug of tea.'
'Well, I brought fresh milk,' Catriona said. 'It's
wrapped in crushed ice. It would go sour quickly in
this weather.'
'Wow, what a team,' he said. He took off his hat
and coat and lay down on his saddle blanket, his back
propped against the cave's back wall. 'By the way,
what do you think of my restaurant?'

Catriona gave what was the closest to a giggle he
had ever heard from her. 'I guess we could be in worse
places during a storm.'
David laughed outright. 'Safe as you could be here.
Safer than at Inverlochy. Miles from anywhere and
anyone. That's what you want, isn't it?'
Catriona paused in the middle of unpacking her
saddlebags. Wild thoughts of desire flashed through
her brain. Should she encourage him or remain
detached? She knew she loved David, but they
weren't married yet.
'What do you mean, David?' She saw that his eyes
were fixed on her face and she forced herself to meet
his steady gaze.
'You've fancied me for years. You've regarded me
as your very own personal property,' he said.
'What if I did? Would you have any objection?
I mean, have you got someone better in mind?'
'I once told you that there was nobody else.'
'David MacLeod, there is something odd about
you today. I think I know you, and I say you are
behaving very strangely. You have a different look on
your face. If I didn't know you so well, I would say
you are being smug.'
'Cat,' he roared. The, smug? I hope I never am.
Nothing of the kind.'
'You aren't a bundle of nerves because we're
together in this cave?'
'I've always been very comfortable in your presence.
Not like some of the young men who pant after you.

'You mean you've always taken me for granted,
just like one of your dogs?'
'Definitely not. Look, let's talk about this after
lunch.'
Catriona handed him a plate of cold meat and
salad which she had assembled from the contents of
their saddlebags while he was building the fire. David
took it and smiled across at her. Her heart began to
beat faster and she turned away to hide her confusion.
If only he knew how much she loved him. When he
smiled at her like that she felt weak and strong at the
same time.
'I'll make the tea,' he said, clearly wanting to
change the topic.
They ate their lunch as they watched the rain pour
off the lip of the cave and cascade down the mountain.
In between watching the rain they covertly
watched each other.
'What is it that you wanted to talk about, David?'
Catriona asked at last as she sipped her tea. She
couldn't contain herself any longer.
'I think I'll have another cuppa,' David said.
'You're enjoying this,' Catriona said.
'What?' he asked.
'Keeping me in suspense.'
'What do you want first? The good news or the
bad?'
Catriona sighed. 'The bad.'
'I'm not going to Canberra this year. Clancy
smashed his back leg. It's been pinned and he's noin plaster. He'll be out of action for three months.'
'Oh, David, I'm so sorry. Poor Clancy. He looked
so very good.'
'So my dream is on hold for another twelve
months.'
'David, with all due respect, you may never win
that blasted trial. There are too many good handlers
with too many good border collies.'
'One man with a kelpie won the National five
times,' David reminded her.
'Maybe he did, but there are so many more handlers
now,' she said.
'Their dogs are no better,' David said.
'Well, David, how long do you expect me to wait
for you? My parents are on at me all the time to marry
someone else.'
'I know all that. Look, what would happen if you
went home and told your parents that you were going
to marry me? What would they do?'
'They couldn't stop me.'
'But they wouldn't like it.'
'We both know that already. But I've told you,
I don't care.'
'Would having more money make a difference?'
he asked.
'I suppose it might, but there are other things, too.
Your father was a shearer.'
'Hell, Cat, there are millionaires who started off
life a lot lower down the social scale than that.'
'You don't have to convince me.'

'Okay, so if I ask you to marry me, where do you
stand? With your parents or with me?'
'I take it this is a hypothetical question.'
'You know I have to win that National. Not only
for Dad but for Tim Sparkes.'
'David, that's ridiculous. Tim Sparkes is dead.'
'Tim believed in me and he has made it possible
for me to marry you. Not that I wouldn't have asked
you anyway.'
Catriona's eyes widened. 'David, what are you
talking about?'
'I am the sole beneficiary of Tim's estate. He left
me his cattle property with over three and a half
thousand head of cattle, a house on the coast and a lot of money. He left it all to me.'
'Oh, David, this is wonderful news.'
'Wonderful isn't the word for it. Do you think it
will alter your father's opinion about my suitability
to be his son-in-law?'
'I should think it would be a huge help. David,
does this mean you're asking me to marry you?'
David sighed. 'Cat, you have always known I
would marry you. In your heart of hearts, you knew.
I'm not a fancy fellow who knows fancy things to say.
But I do know that if I can't have you, I don't want
any other woman. I like having you close by me, and,
Catriona, I do love you.'
Catriona felt her whole body melt with David's
words.
'Are you going to kiss me?' she asked.

He took her in his arms and kissed her softly on
the lips, hesitantly at first, then with all the passion
in his heart.
Catriona felt his strength and closeness and sighed
contentedly. 'I seem to have waited forever for this,'
she said.
'I know you have, and I'm so lucky that you did.'
They sat together with the fire's warmth soaking
through them. Between kisses, Catriona asked,
'Where shall we live?'
'We can have a new home on High Peaks,' he said.
'Can you afford that?'
'I can afford a very nice new home wherever you
want it.'
'What on earth will my parents say?'
'Cat, you're not to mention a word of this. Do
not tell them we're engaged and do not tell them a
thing about Tim's estate. Your father will take some
handling, and I want to do it in my own way.'
Catriona sighed and leant back into David's
arms. 'You know there has never been anyone else,'
she said.
'I never doubted for a minute. Come on, let's have
another cuppa and then we'll head for home.'
'Can't we stay a little longer? It's still raining, and
I don't want to break the spell of this magic place.'
'The rain has almost stopped and we'll be late
home as it is. Would you like to stay for dinner? Kate
and Jean will be there, too. It's to celebrate our good
fortune.'

'Now you tell me. How can I stay to dinner in
these clothes? I smell all horsy.'
'I suppose you'll have time to go home and
change,' he said.
'Come on then, quick. Let's pack up and go. I'll
look after these things while you saddle the horses.'
The sun came out as they picked their way down
the mountain. Grass, trees and rocks were transformed
by the sun shining on the rain-soaked
countryside. The air seemed fresh and brilliantly
clean. Catriona thought it was a very good omen for
their future.Chapter Twenty-five





Sworn to secrecy about her engagement to David,
and about his wonderful legacy from Tim Sparkes,
Catriona went back to Inverlochy with her mind clear
at last about the future direction of her life. If all went
according to plan, she and David would be married
the following year, after the National Trial, and they
would live in a new house on High Peaks - after an
unholy row with her family, of course.
Three days later David and Andrew left for
Queensland. They were away about a week. Before
leaving they had employed a young local man by the name of Greg Robertson as full-time station hand.
He was a likeable fellow from a small farm close to town, and he considered himself very lucky to be working for the MacLeods. Greg was horse-mad, and
he reckoned that David and Andrew would have to be as good a pair of horsemen as anyone in the country. Greg was put up in the house for the time

being, and David and Andrew left High Peaks secure
in the knowledge that their new employee could
handle, under Anne's supervision, almost anything
that came up.
After arriving in Rockhampton they made their
way to the office of the solicitors who handled Tim's
affairs. There, after half an hour's discussion, David
was handed an envelope with his name scrawled
across it. It was the last note Tim had written before
taking his life. He had left instructions that it was to
be given to David MacLeod when he presented
himself at the solicitor's office. David put the note in
his pocket and he and Andy walked out of the office
into brilliant Queensland sunshine.
Later, on the road up to the cattle property that
was now his, David stopped the utility and took out
the envelope. It contained a single sheet of paper and
the writing was very bad.


Dear David,

Your old mate is done for. I can't take any
more of this lying in bed with nurses night and
day. I reckon what I am going to do is the only
sensible way to go.

I want you to know that I reckon you're a
bonzer young bloke and one day you 'II be a
legend, like Lance Skuthorpe and Jackie Howe.
I reckon the best way I can help you is to leave

you all I've got, which my old uncle left me.
There's enough income and money in the bank
to straighten up the old place in the way
I reckon you and Andy would want to.

Davie, your dad and mum are great people,
and so is Kate. I wish I had met a good woman
when I was younger. I would have liked a son
just like you. Maybe we'll meet again in the
next world, if there is such a place, but I'm
sure pleased I met you MacLeods in this one.

I know I am leaving everything I own in good
hands. I wish there could be another way out,
but there isn't, not for me. If I can't ride horses,
I don't want to live.
So long, Davie.
Your old mate,
Tim Sparkes

PS That Catriona was the prettiest girl I ever
saw. She must be really something by now.
Don't lose her, old mate.



David, who couldn't see clearly for the tears in his
eyes, handed the note across to his father. When
Andy passed the note back to him, David saw tears

where he had never seen them before. Tim sure had
been one special bloke.
'I reckon that if a man meets one fella like Tim
Sparkes in his lifetime, he's damned lucky,' Andrew
said.
David nodded and wiped his eyes with his handkerchief.
He folded the note and put it in his shirt
pocket. 'Mum and Kate will want to read this,' he
said. He sat and looked down the road for a few
moments until he felt able to drive again.
'We'd better get on and see what needs doing at
Aberfeldy,' he said.
As it happened, they found there was quite a lot
that needed attention. Don Morgan took them on a
tour of the property, and they considered everything
from the perspective of ownership. Andrew was very
critical of the Aberfeldy cattle, which he referred to
as 'yaks'. They didn't appear to carry much meat on
them, and he felt the whole herd required upgrading.
David listened to Don's counterargument, which
reflected his local experience and commonsense.
'I think there's good sense in what both of you say,' David said at last. 'The herd could stand a bit
of improvement, but you can't ignore the fact that
those "yaks" are hardier and handle these conditions
better than a lot of the purebred cattle. But it's not
much use running cattle just because they're hardy;
we're trying to grow beef. Either that or we could
look at selling live cattle overseas, in which case we
should think about getting some good Brahmans and

breeding our own bulls. Maybe we can do both. We
should also consider upgrading the pastures. Let's see
what we can do to keep the hardiness and at the same
time put some more meat on them.'
There was also some fencing that needed attention,
and the water reserves needed to be augmented.
David had a horror of going into a drought with so
many cattle and inadequate water. He didn't have any
doubts, though, that Morgan was a competent man,
so he decided to increase his salary to that of a manager's
figure.
'Thanks very much, Mr MacLeod. I'm getting
married later this year so the extra dough will be a
big help.'
'That's great. Congratulations. Are you happy with
the house? Does it need any work?'
'The house is all right for me, but a woman might
not think so. There are a few things that could be
improved.'
'Let's look at them while we're here,' David said.
Later that afternoon when they left Aberfeldy,
David and Andrew were happy with what they had
achieved. It was going to take time, but they would
gradually get the property up to scratch.
'Don, if there's anything you're unsure about,
you're to contact me. If I'm not there, talk it over
with Dad. You manage the place and keep me
informed.'
'Righto, Mr MacLeod,' Morgan said.
'And you can forget the "Mister" business in

future. My name is David and Dad's is Andrew.
There's something else: I'd like to see you devote a
bit more time to the horse side of things. Tim was
a great man for his horses, and I'd like Aberfeldy
to become even better known for its horses. I should
think we'll need another good stallion here. I know
you've got a good colt by the old horse, but we
can't use him on his half-sisters. I'm not sure
whether we should mix up the bloods or develop a
stud of either quarter horses or Australian stock
horses. If we did that, we could offer some at the
stud sales. What do you think?'
'That sounds great. I'm pretty keen on horses
myself. That's how I came to be here. I was working
on a place running a lot of horses and Tim offered
me more money to come here.'
'There's no need to give me an answer now. Have
a think about where we should be going with the
horses and let me know. Dad and I are hill-country
men and used to a different type of horse to you
fellows up here. You going anywhere particular for
your honeymoon?'
'We haven't decided.'
'You can use the house on the coast if you like.
Save you some money. Keep an eye on it and make
sure it's kept in good order. Dad and I are going there
now to have a look at it.'
'That's very decent of you, David.'
'Okay, you're the manager now, Don. Tim wanted
you kept on, and if you do the right thing by us,

you've got a job here for a long time to come. Just
keep me in touch. We must be going.'
As they drove away, David asked Andrew, 'You
reckon Don will be okay?'
'I reckon so, Davie. He knows what needs to be
done and he appreciates he's going to get some
support. Tim and his uncle never worried too much
about the place. Yeah, I reckon Don will be all right.'
They stayed the night at the Yeppoon house,
which had a great view of the ocean. It was an off
ground weatherboard built for Queensland's humid
coastal climate. You could stand up under the house
and still have a foot of clearance over your head.
The floor had been asphalted, and there was a long
bench fitted with a vice and a grinder. Bits of
leather hung from nails above the bench and there
were still tools in racks. It was apparent that
somebody - probably Tim's late uncle - had been
a leather worker.
Once upstairs - David lost count of the number
of steps, and looked anxiously to see how his father
was negotiating them - the view of the ocean was
breathtaking. There was a long, narrow-roofed open
verandah from which to view the coastline. By the
look of the cane chairs and table, someone had liked
this spot. The rooms were large but in need of paint,
and they were all furnished. They also found that
there was a new Kelvinator fridge and freezer, and an
almost new ride-on mower. The whole under area of
the house was latticed and could be locked by a large

padlock. An open garage was attached to the house
but that was empty.
'I reckon Mum would fancy a few weeks here,'
Andy said when he'd had a good look through the
house.
'It wants smartening up a bit, though,' David said.
'I'll arrange for Don to have some work done here.
The bathroom and kitchen need modernising and the
place needs a lock-up garage. Those improvements
would make all the difference.'
All in all, Andrew and David were well satisfied
with their trip north.
They returned to High Peaks and to the best
winter for many years. The big wet was ushered in
by the storms that fell the day David and Catriona
had had lunch in the big cave. More heavy rain followed,
as did unseasonably humid weather for
autumn. There were floods on the coast, and old
hands reckoned it was the best start to winter they
could remember. The blowflies loved the sticky
weather. All the sheep had to be mustered and jetted
because a small army of stockmen would have been
hard put to look after 6000 sheep in the paddock the
way the flies were striking. Even though all the sheep
had been crutched, it didn't prevent them being
struck on the body. During this period David learned
a lot about flystrike. Sheep that were yellow in the
wool were the worst affected because their wool stayed
wet longer and generated more odour, which
attracted flies. The white-woolled sheep suffered least.

The indefatigable Kate loved mustering with
David and his dogs. Her greatest pleasure was to work
alongside David on weekends and on her days off.
She especially enjoyed David's companionship when
they boiled the billy for lunch somewhere up in the
hills. David had once told his mother that Kate was
as much a bushie as any of them, and Kate regarded
this as a tremendous compliment. She rode a horse
very well now, could handle a six-foot whip most
adequately, and could do any job with sheep and
cattle. She was also more than useful with young
horses, which fitted in very well with David's plans
for the future. Best of all, Kate was a tremendously
cheery person who never allowed even the most
adverse conditions to affect her.
Those days, David seldom had to tell his aunt anything
at all because she could sense what he wanted
before he even opened his mouth. When Kate had
taken up residence at Poitrel, she had set out to make
herself a top stockperson. She could even shoe a horse
and make a good job of it, too. Andrew and David
had started her off on quiet, well-schooled horses, and
as her proficiency grew they put her on better and
smarter horses. Kate had had several busters, but this
had never affected her enthusiasm and she declared
her readiness to take on campdrafting.
During this present period of fly trouble, David
usually mustered the sheep and brought them down
to either the Poitrel or High Peaks yard, where they
treated the struck animals and jetted the mob. If Kate

was not working at the hospital, she mustered with
David. He would gather up small mobs of sheep and
take them to Kate, who would hold them together
with one of the older dogs while David rode away
again looking for more sheep. This procedure made
hill-country mustering a lot quicker and helped them
save some sheep.
There were now good sheep yards at Poitrel and
these could be used for jetting, although all the shearing
was done at High Peaks. On this particular Saturday
morning Catriona was to have come up from
Inverlochy to help with the mustering, but she had
rung at the last moment to tell David the Campbells
were expecting relatives from interstate and she would
have to stay and help at home.
Kate was riding a new horse. It was a chestnut
gelding that they had not long broken in, and Kate
had fallen in love with him so much that she had
offered to buy him. Kate had never asked for anything
before so David had given her the horse, which she
named Chief. David and Kate were mustering the last
of the wethers in the highest paddock on Poitrel. It
was murderously difficult country to muster, almost
as bad as the worst of Yellow Rock, and sheep
running in it became as agile and cunning as mountain
goats. The country was dotted with dogwood
scrub, manna gums and boulders of all shapes and
sizes, with rocky gullies thrown in for good measure.
It was also pitted with wombat holes, and wallabies
loved it. The thick patches of scrub gave them

protection in the open, and there were caves and
ledges where they could shelter in bad weather.
David had gone round one side of a rocky ridge
with Nap behind him and Kate had gone the other
way. There were a few wethers on this last ridge and
they were proving very difficult to extricate. Out of
nowhere, a wallaby jumped from the rocks beside
Kate, causing her new horse to shy.
When Kate did not rejoin him, David retraced his
route and followed the track she had taken. What he
saw sent shivers up his spine. Chief was standing with
reins trailing and there was Kate lying prostrate on
the ground. Her right leg was splayed across a rock
and she did not seem able to move it.
David was off his horse in a flash and kneeling
beside her. Kate gave him a sickly grin but her face
was screwed up in pain.
'It's your leg, isn't it?' David asked, and through
her agony Kate could not help noticing the tenderness
in his voice.
'I can't move it, David. Ten to one it's broken.
If you can sit me up, I'll be sure.'
David propped her up and held her while she
gingerly felt her leg. She grimaced in pain as her
fingers found the break she knew was there. When
she nodded, David rocked back on his heels and
considered the situation. If he put Kate up on the
saddle with him, he risked damaging her leg even
more, not to mention the pain she would have to go
through. Should he try and splint the leg and take

Kate down off the mountain on his horse? It was a
real dilemma.
'What are we going to do with you, Sister
Gilmour?' He was trying to joke about the situation,
but he knew there was nothing to be cheery about.
'My leg needs splinting and then we need a
stretcher. And a couple of good men to carry it,' Kate
said and grimaced again.
'I can probably find a splint or two, and I might,
with time, even be able to manufacture a rough
stretcher, but I can't produce another man or two.'
'I think you'll have to go for help, David,' Kate
said at last.
'I don't like leaving you here on your own. I think
I'll send Nap home.'
'Nap! Would he leave you?'
'I've sent him shorter distances when I was
teaching him tricks. He's a very brainy dog. I can't
be sure, though, whether Mum will see him. He
wouldn't go to Poitrel: that isn't his home. He'd
go through the High Peaks boundary and down the
side of Yellow Rock. I think it's worth a try. If we
don't turn up by nightfall, they'll come looking for
us anyway.'
He sat down on a big boulder, took out his livestock
notebook and began to compose a note to his
mother. He wrote down what had happened and then
drew a rough map of where they could be found. He
ripped the pages from the notebook and wrapped
them in his handkerchief, which he then knotted and

tied to Nap's collar so that it hung down and could
be seen easily.
'Home, Nap, home,' David ordered urgently and
took a few steps in that direction. Nap looked at him
rather queerly and then trotted off a few paces but
stopped. He looked back at David with a quizzical
expression on his face.
David repeated the command. 'Home, Nap,
home, quickly.'
It took Nap a while to understand David was
serious and not simply playing, but he eventually took
off. David watched the dog until he was out of sight
and then went back to Kate.
'I think he'll be right, Kate. Drink?' he asked and
she nodded.
'First I'll fix up a spot of shade for you.' Kate
watched him while he used his stock knife to sharpen
some green staves which he drove into the ground
with a lump of rock. Kate could not quite work out
how he managed it, but within the space of a few
minutes David had erected a canopy of green
branches over her so that she was not lying exposed
to the sun. He then walked up the hill and caught
the chestnut gelding, which was nibbling grass among
the logs and rocks. 'Steady, you billygoat.' Chief
rubbed his head against David's shirt and seemed
unaffected by whatever had happened.
'How did it happen, Kate?' David asked when he
had tied both horses to saplings close by.
'A damn wallaby just came out of nowhere. It

must have been planted behind the rock and it just,
well, took off. Chief put on a big shy, went half over
and pitched me. One moment we were walking along
nice and steady, and the next I was on the ground.
It all happened so fast. My leg came down across that
rock and I nearly passed out with the pain of it.'
'You never know what a young horse will do, and
when you're breaking them in you can't duplicate
every kind of experience you might strike. Now, I
think a cup of tea is called for,' he said and grinned.
Kate's eyes widened. 'How on earth are you going
to make tea?' she asked.
'Not far from here is that cave I mentioned. I left
a billy there in case I ever needed it again. There's a
spring right beside the cave and I have everything else
we need in my saddlebag. I'll make a fire first.'
' 'Tis wonderful you are,' Kate said in the Irish
brogue she used to embellish the many jokes she told.
She watched David as he knelt and fed the fire with
small sticks and then larger branches until he had it
blazing well. Then he went to retrieve the billy, and
when he returned he sat it between a couple of small
rocks and switched his attention from the fire back
to Kate.
'Should I try and splint that leg?' he asked.
Kate gritted her teeth, as her leg was hurting a lot,
and she imagined it would be much worse when
touched. But it needed to be made stationary. What
she needed before anyone touched her was a painkiller.

'It's going to hurt like hell but it should be
splinted,' she said.
He nodded. 'I'll see what I can find after we've
drunk this.'
He made the tea and propped Kate up while she
sipped it from his pannikin. 'Oh, that's wonderful,
David.' When Kate had finished, David made himself
a cup, and while it was cooling he collected some
more green branches and made a kind of cushion so
Kate could sit up against a log.
'How long do you think it might be, David?' Kate
asked.
David screwed up his eyes while he thought. An
hour for Nap to get home and who knows how long
before Anne noticed him and what was hanging from
his collar. Nap would probably go to his kennel and
stay there waiting for someone to tie him up. But
once Anne did read the note she would get things
rolling soon enough. That was the easy part. The big
problem was actually getting people up there and then
getting Kate down again. They really needed a helicopter,
but the closest helicopter was probably in
Tamworth. You couldn't get a vehicle within miles
of where they were, which meant ambulance officers
and police would have to ride on horseback up the
mountain. And how would they get Kate down the
mountain on a stretcher?
'I can't honestly say, Kate,' he said at last. 'If the
police can get hold of a helicopter, which I've asked
for, it might be only a couple of hours. A lot depends

on how soon Mum sees that message.'
'And if there's no helicopter?' Kate asked
anxiously.
'It could be quite a while. I'll need to collect more
wood so I can keep the fire going to let people know
where we are. I'll use green branches while the light
holds. If Mum sees that message quickly, Catriona
should be here before dark with blankets, food and
some aspirin for you.'
'What an organiser you are, David. I'm glad you're
here with me.'Chapter Twenty-six





Anne was out in the vegetable garden watering her
spinach when she heard the dogs barking. She had
been working on their accounts and had slipped out
for a few minutes to do the watering. It was unusual
for the dogs to bark unless riders were returning or
they heard a vehicle coming up the road. Occasionally
a fox would come right up to the house looking for
a meal, and the dogs would make a racket then. There
were hens running loose with chicks and she didn't
want to lose them, so she took down her gun from
the rack, loaded it, and went outside to investigate
the barking. The first thing she saw was Nap drinking
from one of the horse troughs. His tongue was out
and his sides were heaving. Her first thought was that
David must have ridden across from Poitrel, but that
did not make sense. David and Kate were mustering
together on Poitrel, and Andy and Greg were jetting
in the Poitrel yards.

Then she noticed the blue handkerchief - David's
handkerchief - hanging from Nap's collar, and her
heart missed a beat. Nap would never leave David
unless there was trouble in the hills. Anne called Nap
to his kennel and untied the knotted handkerchief.
Two tiny sheets of notepaper floated down in front
of her. She picked them up and read what David had
written:


Mum,

Kate has broken a leg. I think bad. In pain.
Call Dad, police, ambulance and Cat. Try
REAL HARD to get police helicopter. Would be
hell of a trip and take ages otherwise. Get Angus
to drive Cat up with King. Give her blankets,
food, small pillow and aspirins for Kate. Don't
let her come if late, as she will get lost. I have
fire going. We are on Wallaby Rocks (see map).
Tell Cat it's near the big cave.


David


My God, Kate has broken her leg up on Wallaby
Rocks! Anne's mind flashed back to the day they had
ridden Poitrel before making the decision to buy the
property. She recalled the roughness of the Poitrel top
country and envisaged how difficult it would be to
lift an injured person from that peak. Anne turned

and looked down at the dog that had brought her
this message. Nap was lying on his log kennel with
his head pointed up towards the hills from where he
had come.
'Oh, Nap, you wonderful dog,' she said and patted
him on the head. 'I think I'd better tie you up so you
don't decide to go back to David.'
Then she ran to the house. Please, God, let Jean
be at Poitrel. She usually was when the men were
working there. Anne fidgeted while waiting for her
call to be answered. She breathed a sigh of relief when
Jean's voice came over the line.
'Jean, is Andy down at the yards?' Anne asked.
'They've just gone back. Andy and Greg had lunch
here.'
'Will you run down right now and tell Andy to
come back to the phone? Tell him I said it is most
urgent. Tell him to drop everything.'
Andy was doing the yard work and Greg Robertson
was doing the jetting. Andy still couldn't use his
right arm very well, although there was more movement
in it than there had been for quite some time.
He could not do constant repetitive work, but he had
learned to do most things with his left hand. He
looked up in surprise when Jean began waving at him
from outside the yards. Andy climbed over the fence
and walked towards her.
'What's the matter?'
'Andy, Anne just rang. She said you're to come to
the house and call her back, urgently.'

'Did she say what it was about?' he asked as they
walked back to the house. Even with the limp in his
right leg, Andy's long strides left her behind.
'No, but she did sound very worried.'
He reckoned that Anne must have been sitting
right beside the phone because it had rung only twice
when she answered. 'What's the problem, Anne?' he
asked.
'Kate has broken her leg. She's up on Wallaby
Rocks with David. Nap came home with the message.
I've contacted the police, the ambulance and Angus
while I was waiting for you. I'll read you David's
note.' When she had finished she asked, 'Is there anything
else I should do?'
'Hang on. I need a couple of minutes to think
things out.' He saw Jean looking at him anxiously
and tried to marshal his thoughts very quickly.
'David's right about the helicopter,' he said to
Anne finally. 'It would be worth waiting until
morning for it rather than try and carry Kate down
the mountain. We couldn't make it there before dark
anyway. Not by the time we get everyone here. If you
can't get a helicopter, you'd better tell the police and
ambulance driver to send people who can ride. You
hold the fort there and Jean can stand by the phone
here.'
'Poor Kate,' Jean said anxiously after Andrew had
hung up the phone.
'She's in good hands. David knows what he's
doing. That old dog should get a medal.'

'Andy, what can I do?'
'It would be great if you could make up several
packs of sandwiches. I think we'll need them. You
could also throw on a big pot of stew - something
that can be heated quickly. Anne will ring back and
let you know how many horses we'll need. Greg and
I will see to that. If we can't get a helicopter this
evening and have to head off with a party, we'll need
to give them a feed before they leave. We'll take the
sandwiches with us.'
'Andy, don't you overdo things,' Jean cautioned.
'Stress could bring on another stroke.'
'I'm as right as rain, Jean. It's just a matter of
organisation.'
Anne had always had a quick brain, so when the
local police rang back and told her they hadn't been
able to locate a chopper, she rang the television
station in Tamworth and gave them the whole story.
The station put out a news flash that Kate was lying
with a broken leg on one of the roughest parts of the
Liverpool Range. The story was expanded for the
evening news slot and beamed to the national services,
heard up and down the east coast of Australia. Millions
of people learned how a kelpie had been sent
miles across rough country with a message for help
for a woman who was still waiting to be rescued.
The police and ambulance teams arrived at Poitrel
shortly before three-thirty p.m. At that stage of the
rescue operation there was no suggestion that a helicopter
would be available. There was a conference on

the front verandah of the homestead while all parties
considered the options.
'How do you see things, Andy?' Sergeant Hooper
asked.
'It's a bad situation because Wallaby Rocks is about
the most inaccessible spot you could find. We can't get
a vehicle within miles, and if we go back through High
Peaks we can only get a four-wheel drive to the foot of
Yellow Rock. From there on, the trip would be worse
than from here. How many of you can ride?'
The two police officers could handle horses well.
Tom Chapman said he had ridden a little, years ago,
while Eric Wood said he had never been on a horse
before.
'This is the way I see it,' Andy began. 'If we go
up on horses, we could make it before nightfall, but
there's no way we could carry a stretcher back down
in the dark. It would be bad enough in daylight but
impossible at night.'
'What do you suggest?' Sergeant Hooper asked in
his official manner.
'I think the first priority is to get these ambulancemen
up. I wouldn't try and take a stretcher up on a
horse because if we carry some rope and straps we can
knock up a stretcher from saplings. Our best hope is
that your man back at the station can locate a
chopper, even if we can't get it here until morning.
There has to be a chopper somewhere. The biggest
problem is that Kate and David won't know what's
going on down here.'

'Why don't we set a departure time?' Hooper said.
'If there's no chopper by nine a.m., we start back,
down the mountain with Sister Gilmour.'
'Good idea,' Andy said. 'Let's pack what we need
and head off. One of you fellows had better stay and
look out for things this end, to be here through the
night and on deck first thing in the morning. I will
leave Greg here in case he's needed. I'll guide you up.
Sister Courteney has tucker ready and food to take
with us. We'll need to pack some blankets as it's cold
up there, even with a fire.'
It was nearly four-thirty before they got away. Sergeant
Hooper was in the party and Constable Walker
stayed behind at Poitrel. By that time Jean knew
Catriona had left High Peaks for Wallaby Rocks.
Angus had delivered Catriona and King to High
Peaks within the hour. He had been keen to accompany
Catriona, but was persuaded by Anne that this
was not necessary. Together Anne and Angus rolled
and tied the blankets and pillow that David had
requested and then filled two saddlebags with food
and other items. Angus threw in a bottle of scotch,
which he said might come in handy.
'Are you sure you know where you're going,
Catriona?' Anne asked.
'Quite sure. When you go through the boundary
fence into Poitrel you follow the eastern side of the
ridge and that takes you to Wallaby Rocks. David
will have the fire going so I should see the smoke as
soon as I get up on top.'

'Be careful, dear. Don't try and make too much
pace. You will have to stay there the night. Do you
think there will be anything else you'll need?'
'I don't think so. Bye, Daddy. Bye, Anne. See you
tomorrow.'
Catriona trotted King past the dog yards and then
down to the first gate. Angus watched her until she
was out of sight.
'Anything else I can do, Anne?' Angus asked.
'I don't think so. We'll keep you posted.'
Angus shook his head. 'There must be a helicopter
somewhere.'
'I rang the Tamworth television station and let
them know about the situation. That might flush out
a helicopter.'
'Terrific idea. Look, I think I'll take a run round
to Poitrel and see what's happening there.'
Angus was always there when the whips were
cracking. Anne had seen him tested several times and
he had always come up trumps.
'I'd like to be there myself, Angus, but Andy told
me to stay by the phone here, and I know I should.'
'Just imagine that old dog bringing David's
message all that way!' Angus said before he left. 'No
wonder David wanted him back.'
'Yes, it was a terrific effort. The TV people should
like that for a story, especially if they could see the
country he travelled through.'
Anne was right. The TV people did like it for a
story. News teams were on their way within the hour.

Up on Wallaby Rocks, David had been busy collecting
great heaps of firewood, fearing they would be
on the mountain until morning and knowing it could
get very chilly at that height. He kept their own fire
going with a mixture of dead logs and green branches,
and the beacon could be seen for miles.
Catriona saw it as soon as she came up onto the
ridge from the High Peaks-Poitrel boundary fence.
'Good old David,' she breathed as she pointed King
towards the smoke, chuffed that he had asked for her
when he needed help. That was really something. And
they would be together on the mountain all night.
David had bathed Kate's face and then scouted the
ridge for saplings that could be used as splints. He
came back to the fire carrying two branches, which
he proceeded to shave smooth and flat on one side.
When he had finished doing this, he produced a
couple of pieces of redhide. She knew he always
carried strips of redhide on his saddle or in his saddlebag
as they often came in handy.
'Kate, it's crunch time. Do we do it over your
jeans or cut the trouser leg off?'
'Well, David, I can't get up to take them off,' Kate
said and forced a laugh. 'Cut the leg. I can always use
them for shorts later.'
David used the portion of jeans he cut off to pad
the two splints, and then with Kate holding the saplings
in place he used the redhide strips to strap the
makeshift splints in place. There was sweat on Kate's
face when he finished and she looked a shade or two

paler, but the splints cut down the pain a little.
In midafternoon he boiled the billy again and gave
Kate another mug of tea. She was bearing up well, all
things considered.
David didn't know what he would do without
Kate. She was a cross between a second mother and
an older sister to him. He sat with her and yarned
awhile and tried to take her mind off her leg, which
was difficult, as even the tiniest movement brought a
grimace to her face.
The afternoon dragged on and when Kate looked
at her watch she saw that it was just after five. She
had come off Chief nearly six hours ago. It was clear
to her that David was beginning to worry. It would
be dark in under an hour. What if Anne hadn't found
the message on Nap's collar?
'Kate, I'm going to climb up the ridge and have
a look. I can see down into Poitrel from there and
also along the ridge to where Cat would be coming
from.'
After a few minutes Kate saw David wave from up
on the ridge above her.
'She's on her way, and there are horses coming up
the mountain from Poitrel,' he called.
She felt a huge wave of relief surge through her.
David had done all that was humanly possible for her
and now others could take over.
David noted the look of relief on his aunt's face
as he came scrambling down from the ridge. 'Good
old Nap. He did it. And good old Mum. I'll bet she

had a fit when she read my message.'
'It's too late to go back down tonight, though,
isn't it?' she asked.
'I reckon. But hopefully there'll be an ambulanceman
or two in the party and you'll get a decent painkiller.
I must say I was starting to worry; Cat is
cutting it fine for light. I'm not worried about the
other lot because ten to one Dad will be guiding
them. He could find his way here on the darkest
night. I'll just walk up the track a little to meet Cat.
I hope she's got some blankets. It's starting to get
chilly.'
Catriona appeared on the high section of the ridge
and saw the fire below the tall spire of dark smoke.
And then she saw David walking towards her on a
narrow sheep pad that led over the very top of
Wallaby Rocks.
David's keen eyes picked out the bundle tied
behind Catriona's saddle and he breathed a sigh of
relief. At least they would have Kate warm when the
other party arrived.
Catriona jumped out of the saddle in a rush,
almost falling on David in the process. David took
King's reins in one hand and one of Catriona's hands
in the other as they walked down to the makeshift
camp.
'How is she?' Catriona asked.
'Bearing up. You know what Kate's like. Her leg's
in a mess and it must be hurting like blazes but she's
very brave. Thank God Mum got my message. And

thank God you were home. Well, King, you look
more like a packhorse than a Champion Hack.'
Catriona knelt down beside Kate while David
unstrapped the blankets and pillow. Catriona put the
small pillow under the site of the break, as Kate
instructed, and then covered her with a blanket.
'Better?' she asked.
'A lot, thank you. David, did you find the aspirin?'
'Coming.' David handed Kate two tablets and she
washed them down with water.
'The other party is on its way, Cat,' he said. 'Now,
I'll unsaddle King and put him near our horses. You
can use his saddle for a pillow. I'm glad we've got
these extra blankets - we're going to need them.' He
threw the blankets over a rock and then laid out the
packets of food Anne had packed.
'Feel like a sandwich, Kate?' he asked.
'I thought you'd never ask,' she said.
David and Catriona sat beside Kate and watched
the sun go down behind the range. 'How's Mum?'
he asked Catriona after he had finished his first
sandwich.
'She's in control. She's even alerted the media.'
David smiled and looked up at the darkening sky.
'Just as well it's a fine night.'
'I must say it is very nice to have you here,
Catriona,' Kate said with a wry smile.
'Any time,' Catriona flashed back. She had always
admired Kate Gilmour. Even as a young girl she had
been rather in awe of her. She had always seemed so

full of fun, and so wonderfully efficient. There were
a lot worse role models a girl could have.
The sound of a stockwhip rent the quiet of the
evening. David got up and went to where he had
placed his saddle and whip. 'They can't see the smoke
in this light. The whip will guide them here,' he said.
He climbed back up on to the crest and let fly. Every
few moments he swung the whip and listened for the
answering crack. It was almost dark when the four
riders came into view along the ridge.
Returning to the fire, he said, 'They're almost
here, Kate. Four of them. I can pick Dad but not the
others.'
He stood with Catriona and raised his hand in
greeting as his father led the other three riders up to
the fire. One man seemed to have difficulty staying
in the saddle and David moved to help him off. The
rider, who turned out to be Eric Wood, staggered and
almost fell when his feet touched the ground.
'I'll never be the same again,' Eric said with a
grin.
'Hi, Sergeant, Tom,' David said to the others. He
was relieved to find two ambulance officers in the
party.
There was a bustle of activity as gear was taken off
the saddles and sorted into bundles. A light was set up
beside Kate and, with Catriona in attendance, Eric
and Tom took over. Kate was given an injection to
dull the pain and David's rough splints were replaced.
'It's a pretty bad break by the look of things,' Eric

told the group. 'She has a bit of bruising as well.'
Andrew summarised the course of action they had
decided on. 'We'll wait until nine in the morning and
if there isn't a chopper here by then, we'll have to
start back.'
'It'll be a hell of a trip, Dad,' David said.
'We realise that, but what else can we do? We can't
stay up here indefinitely.'
David shook his head. 'Let me take Kate back on
King. It wouldn't be any harder on her than getting
thrown about on a stretcher.'
'Crikey, David, I don't know about that. You'd
have to ask Eric and Tom what they think.'
'Either way it's a bad trip, but it would be a lot
quicker if we did it my way. They could give her
something more for the pain and I'd have her back
in an hour and half. It would take three or four times
that long carrying her on a stretcher.'
'I think we should delay making that kind of
decision until we see what happens in the morning,'
Sergeant Hooper said.
Andrew nodded. 'I sure hope Anne can get hold
of a chopper.'
Catriona boiled the billy for everyone and they all
sat in a rough circle drinking tea and eating sandwiches.
The pain in Kate's leg had eased and she was
warm under the blankets, feeling almost comfortable.
She had the utmost confidence in the group gathered
about her and knew that some way or other she would
be in hospital the next day.

It grew steadily colder and David lit the other heaps
of firewood so they could sit, and perhaps sleep, in a
circle of warmth. There was plenty of dead wood, and
some of the bigger logs would burn for a couple of
hours. Catriona lay close to Kate, although her heart was
with David. They all used their saddles for pillows and
yarned on into the night by the glow of the campfire.
Then Kate asked David to recite some bush poetry,
which surprised Catriona. She had never heard him do
this before. David recited several poems and his deep
voice seemed perfectly in tune with their surroundings.
Eventually Catriona's eyes began to close.
'I reckon we should try and get some sleep,'
Andrew said when the conversation began to wane.
'We'll need to be up and about fairly early.'
David replenished the fires and lay down a few
feet from Catriona. He stretched out an arm and
touched her reaching fingers. When he felt her hands
relax he tucked her arm back under the warmth of
her blanket. Kate's eyes were still open and David
bent down and kissed her. 'Sleep well, Kate,' he said.
'God love you, David,' she replied softly.
Despite Kate's predicament and the rough nature
of their camp, they had all experienced a magical
night on Wallaby Rocks.
Soon the whole camp was asleep. The fires gradually
burned down until David, waking at around
four a.m., threw more logs on each heap. He went
back to his blanket but did not sleep again and was
up and about before daylight. He had the billy boiling

when his father got up. It was very chilly and they
stood and warmed their backsides until David said he
would go and water the horses.
They took a couple of horses each and David led
the way to the spring beside the cave. The water
bubbled into a small trough of sand and rock.
'I didn't know about this,' Andrew said as he
looked into the mouth of the big cave.
'Beauty, isn't it? Cat and I sheltered in there - and
the horses, too - all through the storm.'
When the others got up they had to go and inspect
the cave as well. 'It's almost worth the effort to get
here just for the view and that cave,' Eric said. He
was stiff in every joint and hoping like hell that he
wouldn't have to ride again. With a bit of luck there
would be a chopper and he could go back with Sister
Gilmour.
Tom gave Kate another injection and while the
horses were being saddled Catriona shared out the
remaining food.
Shortly after, Andrew's keen ears picked up the
characteristic beat of a helicopter's engine. 'Quick,
throw some more green branches on the fire. I can
hear the chopper,' he said urgently.
There was a furious burst of activity as his instructions
were carried out. There was no wind at all and
the smoke spiralled clear above the crest. The pilot
couldn't miss it. The chopper was a mile or two south
of them when it crossed the range and it soon veered
around in a wide arc.

'Where will it be able to land?' Eric asked. 'Will
we have to carry her a bit?'
'Over here,' David said, cantering off on his horse
back along the ridge to the one spot that was clear of
timber and rocks. The pilot knew where he had to
land. David went back to the others, who were all
standing with their faces upturned as they watched
the chopper lose height right above them. It came
down very slowly and seemed to almost kiss the
ground it landed so gently.
The pilot was a lean, long-jawed young man
wearing a red and yellow peaked cap, blue jeans and
a cowboy shirt.
'Wes Moran,' he said, waving to the group. 'Sorry
I couldn't be here last night.'
'G'day, Wes. I'm Sergeant Hooper from Merriwa.
Where did you come from this morning?'
'Tamworth, Sarge. I didn't hear about this until
after ten last night and it was too risky trying anything
in the dark.'
'Would you like some tea, Wes?' Andrew asked.
'I'd love some. I had a dingo's breakfast this
morning. But I'd better not, best press on. I reckon
this lady here has been waiting long enough. You
ready to go? I can take someone else along with us if
you like.'
'Better take Eric,' Andrew suggested. 'He's sworn
off horses for life.'
'Okay. If we put a blanket under the patient, we
can carry her up to the chopper. Bring the pillow and

some more blankets and we'II make her nice and
snug. You want me to take her to Merriwa or Tarn
worth?' Moran asked.
'Merriwa,' Kate said sleepily. 'Merriwa, please.'
They placed the blanket under Kate and four men
took a corner each, stretching it tight. Kate was
carried up to the helicopter and positioned on the
machine's floor. A pillow was put under her leg and
a blanket was folded up under her head.
'Thanks for everything, David,' Kate whispered in
his ear. 'Look after Chief, won't you?' were the last
words David heard as the door of the chopper was
slammed shut.
'I'll see that he never shies again,' he growled.
They watched as the chopper rose into the sky
above them. It circled them once and then surged
away towards Merriwa.Chapter Twenty-seven





The party's descent to Poitrel was accomplished in
little over an hour. When they rode into the house
paddock they were surprised to see several four-wheel
drive vehicles parked about the homestead. There
were people everywhere: some in their vehicles and
others with Jean on the verandah. There were cameras
set up on tripods and they flashed wildly as the party
neared the house.
'The newshounds are here,' Hooper growled.
Jean had heard the helicopter as it passed overhead
towards Merriwa and she had a big breakfast waiting
for the rescue party. There were sausages galore, eggs,
tomatoes and plenty of tea and toast. They had never
had a breakfast that tasted so good.
The reporters all wanted to see Nap and photograph
him with his owner. They wanted to take
David over to High Peaks for this purpose. He had
been looking forward to a quiet ride home with

Catriona, but he knew they would find no peace until
the reporters got what they wanted so he shrugged
his shoulders and agreed.
Before heading off to High Peaks, Sergeant
Hooper called David aside and said, 'Next time
you're in town, come and see me.'
'I don't get to town often, Sergeant, but I reckon
I'll be visiting Kate in the next couple of days.'
'Make sure you do, or I'll come back and see you.
There's something you should know about. It would
be a good excuse to have a look at that stallion of
yours.'
David looked curiously at Sergeant Hooper, his
eyes asking for more information.
'I don't want to say anything in front of Miss
Campbell,' Hooper whispered.
'Okay. If I come in, I'll look you up. Thanks again
for all your help.'
As soon as the procession of vehicles had left
Poitrel, Jean rang Anne to advise her that Kate had
been safely lifted off Wallaby Rocks and that the
news crews were now headed for High Peaks.
Anne walked out on to the front verandah and
soon enough a stream of cars came through their front
entrance. She saw David get out of one vehicle and
walk down to the dog yard. He was trailed by a score
of men and women, half of whom were carrying
cameras of some description.
Nap was found lying on his log kennel enjoying
the morning sunshine. David had to demonstrate

how he had attached the handkerchief to Nap's collar.
Nap was photographed from every angle, with and
without David, and then all attention was turned to
Yellow Rock and the homestead. David had to
retrieve the message he had written and this, too, was
photographed. Anne was also photographed with
David, and then at last the media representatives
roared back to Poitrel, taking David with them at his
request.
When he got back there David put Chief in his
horse trailer and took Catriona and King back to
Inverlochy. He didn't stay long, and drove straight on
to High Peaks. He rightly judged that his mother
would be anxious to leave for town to see Kate.
Anne had already rung the hospital and learned
that Kate was in good shape.
'So that's that,' David said. 'It could have been a
whole lot worse for Kate . . . and getting her back.
Kate was wonderful through it all.'
'Getting Nap to bring your message back was
incredible.'
'I didn't fancy leaving Kate. Will you go in and
visit her later?'
'I certainly will. If Andy's back in time, he might
come with me. Though on second thoughts it might
be too much for him. He's had a big couple of days.
Would you like to ask Catriona up for dinner? There
might be something about you on the telly.'
David spent the afternoon handling a horse and
pressing a bale of crutchings. He then gave the dogs

a run before feeding them. When he had finished he
stood for a few minutes with Nap. 'You're a brainy
fella, aren't you?'
Nap looked up at him and wagged his tail.
'I should never have let you leave here. Sorry about
that, old dog, but we needed the money real bad at
the time. I cheated on you and I still feel bad about
it. Kate will probably spoil you rotten when she gets
out of hospital. There'll be cooked lamb's fry and
steak galore, if I know her. You did a great job, and
tonight I reckon you're going to be famous.' He
patted Nap on the head and went back inside.
That night he and Catriona saw themselves on
television for the first time. Most of the footage
centred around Nap and what he had done. They had
expected to have a quiet night to themselves, but were
quickly disillusioned because the news story generated
one phone call after the other. The first caller was
Bruce McClymont, who was overjoyed to see 'his'
Nap in the news. Then came calls from David's
grandparents in Sydney and Shaun Covers - and then
there were the neighbours. After the fifth call David
said he would take the phone off the hook.
'You can't do that,' Catriona protested. 'There
might be an important call.'
'I'm sick of talking to people,' he growled. 'Why
can't I just have a quiet night? I've been up since
dawn.'
'Because you're in the news, darling. It will all be
over tomorrow.'Catriona was wrong. The next day there were
more callers and special-feature writers wanting to do
stories on the MacLeods and their dogs. The last call
came from two representatives of a film company who
wanted to sound David out about making a film.
They were so serious about the idea that they even
paid a visit to High Peaks a few days later, returning
to Sydney with an enthusiastic recommendation. A
research assistant and producer were then sent to
make a more detailed assessment of the situation. The
producer, like his earlier colleagues, became very
excited once he had seen the spectacular scenery and
the amazing feats of the dogs in action. The animals,
especially the dogs, were simply magnificent.
But the producer, Laurence Singer, knew he
needed more than just great dogs and horses to make
a memorable film, so the research assistant, Helen
Gray, set about digging out every bit of available
information on the MacLeod family. She discovered
how David had had to send Nap away for three years
to help the family pay off its debt, and she even found
out about his run-ins with Stanley Masters and the
Missen brothers. The fact that David was a wizard
with a stockwhip also added to his appeal.
A few weeks after their first visit, the film company
began to make more ambitious plans. They formulated
a rough script, which was posted up to David
for approval. His initial reaction was not enthusiastic.
He envisaged a lot of problems, mainly concerning
how much time he and Catriona would be required

to devote to the project, him coaching the actors and
Catriona doing some of the more high-risk horse
work, like up Yellow Rock. There had been a television
commercial for drenching filmed on Inverlochy
and the cameramen had insisted on about twenty
takes before they were satisfied. This might have
made for good TV but it exhausted people and dogs.
David was adamant that if he consented to do the
film, he would not ask his dogs to repeat scenes. He
doubted very much that he could spare the time to
put into the film. He had three properties to oversee,
plus dogs and young horses to handle. Moreover, his
most important project was the next year's National
Trial.
The producer said that the company would make
the family's involvement well worth their while. He
even increased his initial offer, which was a sum not
to be sneezed at.
'I don't have time to stand on a hill and get a dog
to do twenty casts,' David said. 'If I agree to do this
film, I have to be given the right to tell you when I
think a dog's work is satisfactory. I won't be dictated
to by cameramen. These are my conditions.'
'You must understand that cameramen are very
fussy people. They have to be - they're working with
investors' money. Not only that but their work is
looked at critically throughout the world. If we think
a scene isn't good enough, it's done again until we're satisfied.'
'Mr Singer, I don't much care whether I do this

film or not. If I do it, you will get authentic work
that meets my standards. If you aren't happy with
that, you'll have to forget the whole thing.'
'You're a hard man, Mr MacLeod,' Singer said. 'A
lot of people would jump at the chance we're giving
you.'
'Then you should go and talk to them. Perhaps
they're not as busy as I am. And another thing I
couldn't do much until well into next year, and
I would want you to include in your script the buildup
to the National Trial.'
'We'll have to think about it, Mr MacLeod. We'll
get back to you.'
So that was that, and David went back to handling
his dogs and young horses.
That afternoon he was in the horse yard when a
police car pulled up beside him.
'Hello, Sergeant. Did you get tired of waiting for
me?' he called as the big policeman climbed out of
his Falcon. 'I'm sorry I haven't been to see you yet.
I've only visited Kate at night,' he said by way of
apology.
'I was out this way anyway so I thought it was a
good chance to come and see you,' Hooper said.
'Got time for a drink?'
'I don't see why not. How's your dad?'
'Going well. He's over at Poitrel right now. We're
upgrading the existing shed that Will let fall to pieces.
Between you and me, Sergeant, we've also got our
eyes on the place opposite. It's nearly all good

breeding country and we could breed our replacement
wethers there instead of buying them.'
Anne looked up in surprise when she heard voices
on the verandah.
'Hey, Mum, we've got a visitor.'
'Well, bring him in, dear,' the imperturbable Anne
said.
But Sergeant Hooper's entry to her lounge room
did induce a feeling of alarm. The arrival of a police
officer seemed to signify bad news. 'It's not Andy?'
she asked in a strangled kind of voice.
'Nothing like that, Mrs MacLeod. Just some news I thought you people should know about.'
'Sit down, please,' Anne said. 'I'll just go and get
some afternoon smoko.'
The big man sat down and looked about the
room. It was the first time he had been inside the
High Peaks homestead. There were photographs of
dogs and horses on the walls, and the dresser was
surmounted by large silver cups.
'I hear there's a film company chasing you to make
a picture,' Hooper said, making conversation.
'How did you know?' David asked, knowing full
well that you couldn't spit in town without someone
knowing about it.
Anne came back into the room and placed a tray
of tea and cake on the table.
'There was a young woman doing some research on
you, David,' Hooper said with a big grin. 'She came
to see me. Smart young woman. Really on the ball.'

'Oh, did she? What did you tell her?' David asked.
'Only the truth, David.'
David groaned. 'I wondered where they got their
information.'
'Great cake, Mrs MacLeod,' Hooper said, taking
a bite of Anne's lemon sponge. He hadn't tasted one like it for years.
'You said you had something to tell us,' David
urged.
'Yes. We heard that Roy Missen had employed a top firm of Sydney solicitors to take up the matter of his boys getting early release from prison.' What the sergeant didn't say was that Roy Missen had mortgaged
his property to find the money for the legal expenses.
There was silence in the room while David and
his mother digested this information.
'Do you think it can be done, Sergeant?' Anne
asked.
'I wouldn't have thought so. If a judge sets a non- parole term, then that is the minimum period an offender is required to serve in custody unless new
evidence is brought forward. And a person is not necessarily
released after the judge's stipulated period.
Nothing may come of this, but there is mention of a QC being briefed so I expect that it will be taken to the highest level.'
'Are the Missens likely to be dangerous if they re released?' Anne asked.
'I can't answer that. But it pays to be prepared.

'I'm not worried for my own sake, Sergeant,'
David said, 'but Cat gets around a lot on her own,
to town and to Tamworth - even to Sydney.'
'I don't want to cause alarm, but she might want to be careful.' Hooper got up and nodded to Anne.
'Thanks for the cuppa and the bonzer cake, Mrs
MacLeod.'
'Thanks for calling, Sergeant. We appreciate it,'
she replied.
'You reckon I could have a look at your stallion?'
Hooper asked.
'You keen on horses?' David asked.
'Always have been. I was in the mounted police
for a while. I've got a yen to buy a small place and
breed a few thoroughbreds.'
'We aren't thoroughbred people. We took over
some very good blood mares from Will White and
we're using the best of them to breed stock horses.
That black horse Catriona got Champion Hack with
a year or so ago was bred from one of Will's old
mares. Course, Cat did a great job with him. She's a
good show rider - been winning awards in the show
ring since she was a kid.'
'He's a bottler, old Will,' Hooper said. 'I saw him
at the show. I used to go out and talk to him when
I first came here. He had a terrific memory for pedigrees
and race performances.'
'Will gave his mare Ajana to me as a present
before we bought the place. I reckon this stallion
mated with her should produce something. The

stallion is just below the house. I'd be pleased to let you see him.'
They walked down the track towards the foal- rearing paddock and came to the big stallion yard they had built especially for Tim's stallion. It was more of a small paddock than a big yard because it was large enough for the horse to run around in and it included a stable and shade trees.
David climbed through the fence and walked up to the bay horse. 'He's as quiet as a kitten, Sergeant,
but you never know with stallions and bulls. Wait there until I catch him.' He took a dog lead from his
trouser pocket and clipped it to the stallion's halter.
The horse rubbed its head against David's chest and David stroked its forehead in return.
'Now, that is a horse,' the sergeant said when David led him across to the fence.
That he is,' David agreed. 'He was the top stock- horse sire in Queensland.'
'You taking mares to this fellow?' Hooper asked.
'No, not yet. Maybe never. We want a year or two of him for our own use. Greg is all for it, so we'll see how he shapes up before we decide. He isn't young, and we'd like to get as many foals by him as we can.
'How are things going with Greg?'
'He's a top bloke and we think he'll make a good stockman. He's taken a big load off my shoulders.
Not that Dad is useless, but we don't want him doing too much.'
'Damned shame.'

'Look, about your horse breeding. As I told you,
we're negotiating to buy Glen Morrison, the place
across the road from Poitrel. There's a piece of it that
would be ideal for horses. It runs up into hills, which
is what you need. The black country is too soft and
heavy to produce good-footed horses. If we get that
place I could cut you off that bit of ground.'
'But you don't owe me any favours. Why would
you do that?' Hooper said.
'A lot of people have dreams they never realise.
Maybe I can help you fulfill yours. I'd like to see
you breed a few thoroughbreds. You might give
Angus Campbell a bit of opposition. You should
contact old Will and ask him for his ideas on
making a start.'
'Is he still keeping well?'
'Seems to be. We exchange phone calls now and then. He still wants to know how his mares are doing.
He even pays us a yearly visit; stays with Kate and
Jean. Angus has been very keen for us to send Ajana
to a blood horse, maybe on the shares. I might yet
do it, mainly for Will's sake. I'd like to breed something
from her that could win a race or two. It would
give the old chap a big lift.'
'How much land do you reckon there is in this
section you refer to?' Hooper asked.
'Perhaps two hundred acres. There's a nice area on
the road where you could build a house, put up sheds
and grow some lucerne. There aren't many good little
blocks available in this district.'

'You let me know if you buy that place, David.
I'm interested.'
When Sergeant Hooper had left, David walked
back into the house and sat down at the kitchen table.
He was frowning, and Anne sensed that he was
worried.
'You worried about Bill and Wade, David?'
'Sure I'm worried, Mum. They've got a mean
streak in them a mile wide.'
But as the winter drew on there was no more word
of the Missen boys' release. It now seemed that they
would serve their full nonparole period, which would
have them out in the next summer.
There were plenty of other things to occupy
David's attention. He had agreed to do the film so
long as he had technical control, and not until the
following year. He compromised to the extent that
he suggested some filming be done at shearing time
and when they were bringing sheep down from the
hills. This delay actually suited the film company
because they had to engage child stars to play David
and Catriona as children. These children had to be
schooled in handling horses and dogs, and this would
take time. In the meantime David had to try and win
Catriona's parents over, and he knew this wouldn't
be easy. Catriona was thrilled about the film, but he
wasn't ready for it.
Shearing came and went and some filming was
completed. This included routine sheepdog work
around the yards and in the shed.

'I'd like to see some rain,' David said to his father
one evening as they sat together on the verandah
watching the last sunlight of the day slip away. They
had experienced a wonderful autumn and had gone
into winter with a big volume of feed, although the
heavy frosts had dried and bleached the grass. There
had been very little late-winter rain, and spring had
been dry. Andrew said he had only seen seasons like
that when he was a boy.
When September passed into October and there
had been no worthwhile rain, David started putting
out mineral blocks for the stock. Although there was
plenty of dry feed, it had very little nutritional value,
and sheep and cattle couldn't consume enough of it
to convert into proper sustenance. The blocks contained
urea, which broke down the cellulose in the
dry feed and enabled animals to convert it more efficiently.
But the cattle were not putting on much
weight.
At the end of October, a dry westerly wind began
to blow, and it blew for several days. It was at that
time that the MacLeods received word that the
Missen boys had been released. Stanley Masters,
however, was kept inside after having been involved
in a knifing incident.
Angus and David agreed that Catriona shouldn't
be left on her own. Catriona complied very reluctantly
as she felt that Bill and Wade would never be
foolish enough to attack her again, especially without
Masters. But the grudge Bill and Wade harboured was

against David, not Catriona, and it had festered
during their time in prison. Bill and Wade knew that
if they stepped one inch out of line, David would
come down on them like an avenging lion. But if
they could get back at MacLeod without him
knowing about it, that would be a different matter.
The dry spring and gusting westerlies provided the
solution Bill and Wade had been looking for.
Kate was driving down the road from Poitrel on
her way to surgery very early one morning when she
saw a grey utility parked at the side of the road. Kate
stopped her car and got out. There didn't seem to be
anyone close by and her first thought was that
someone might be trying to pot a rabbit or a wallaby.
Shooters were rife in the area. She looked up the hill
and saw two men trying to hide themselves behind
trees. But that was not what sent her heart pounding.
Just above where the men were skulking was a line of
flames. And as she watched, the flames flared out
across the paddock.
Kate took out her notebook and wrote down the
number of the utility and then got back in her car,
turned it around and headed straight for Poitrel. The
first person she rang was David.
'There's a fire been started between here and your
boundary. I think it might have been started by the
Missen boys because I saw two men hiding in the
trees, although they were a fair way away so it's difficult
to say. There was a grey utility parked off the
road as well - luckily I have its number. Please ring

the police. I've got to get to the hospital. There's an
emergency there. Ring Angus to get the fire engines
going, and let the Hamiltons know the fire's near
their boundary. Jean will stay here today and start the
sprinklers, but the wind is taking the fire up the hill,
not in our direction. I'll get her to bring the animals into the yards just to be on the safe side.'
'Good on you, Kate. And take your gun with you
when you go to town. You never know what those
mongrels might do.'
'I reckon they'll be long gone by the time I get
there,' Kate said. 'But if I have to, I'll give the buggers
a fright.'
Sergeant Hooper had to be woken but was all business
when he heard David's news. 'Right, we'll spread
the word and get a couple of cars out looking. What
was the vehicle's number again?'
'Dad! Mum!' David roared as he put the phone
down. His parents were still in bed and often got up
a little later now they had Greg Robertson to help.
Greg was living in a three-room cottage they'd had
built for him during the winter.
'What is it?' they called.
'Kate's just rung. There's a fire in the front
paddock at Poitrel. She thinks the Missens started it.
They must have been out at dawn in the hope that
they'd get well clear before anyone was about. The
police are on the way. Mum, will you ring Angus and
either Troy or Walter Hamilton? Angus can rouse out
his fire team and the Hamiltons may want to shift

stock. Hell, a fire with a westerly like yesterday and we'll be in real trouble. Dad, I'll get the horses. You and Greg better take some dogs and get up to Yellow
Rock. We'll have to try and get what stock we can mustered and back here behind the creek. Maybe you could muster to the boundary and Greg could take them from you and push them back to the creek.
Mum, can you look after the stock below us? Bring them all up and put them in the yards. It's the hill
on Poitrel that's the big worry. If the wind gets up like it did yesterday, the fire will roar up that hill like a train.'
Fortunately it was dawn and the wind was little
more than a breeze, giving the MacLeods and their
neighbours time to get themselves organised. Later in the day, when the wind would be at its strongest, they
would have little hope. And, luckily, most of the
sheep had congregated around watering holes for their
early drink and had not yet dispersed back into their
daytime haunts. The bulk of the Poitrel wether flock was spread out across the hill country between the
boundaries of High Peaks and Strath Fillan. These sheep had to be shifted first because they were in the
most immediate danger.
By the time David, Andrew and Greg reached the High Peaks-Poitrel boundary fence, the fire had taken hold and was about a quarter of a mile further up the hill than Kate had reported. The smoke and flames had frightened the sheep up the hill so they were now in plain view of the riders. A fire travels

very fast uphill, and with the westerly behind it all of
the Poitrel high country could be devastated, or the
slightest wind change could send it roaring off in a
different direction. If the fire teams and their neighbours
arrived in time, they might just be able to
isolate the fire to Poitrel, but you couldn't get a fire
vehicle very far up the hill. The pinching-off had to
be done by men carrying backsprays and wet bags,
which was dangerous business; the only refuges would
be clumps of large rocks.
'We'll collect the sheep we can see in front of us
and you take them down through Yellow Rock and
over the creek. It doesn't matter if they get mixed up
with the High Peaks sheep. You can take them all
back. When you've got the first lot over, come back
to Dad for the next lot. Push them, Greg. Time is
everything,' David said urgently.
He left his father to gather in the nearest sheep
and rode off across Poitrel to look for others. Andrew
was using a black and tan bitch called Tess and he
sent her out in a big sweeping cast that encompassed
all the sheep they could see directly in front of them.
These sheep were uneasy in the smoke-laden air.
David left that lot to his father and rode on. The
mobs were smaller now and in rougher places. He
put two small mobs together and pushed them hard
with Nap and Clancy, who was back in action again
at last. Greg had not returned by the time David
pushed his mob through the gate into High Peaks.
He saw his father coming from the direction of Strath

Fillan with another mob of perhaps 300 sheep. The
fire was now about halfway up the hill and the wind
was definitely picking up. He splashed some water
from his water bottle into his hat and gave Nap and
Clancy a drink. Although still early morning, it was
oppressively hot and the dogs were tonguing. They
had had a fast run from the house through to Yellow
Rock to begin with.
David paused before riding back into Poitrel. As
he looked down the boundary fence, he saw a line of
men climbing the hill. Crikey, the firefighters have
moved, he thought. They would never stop the fire
front-on with the wind blowing it in their faces. So
much depended on the wind. Right now the westerly
was driving the fire uphill towards Wallaby Rocks. If
it reached there - and David knew there was nothing
to stop it - the fire could go down the other side and
perhaps burn for days in the rough country on the
eastern side of the range. Out of the corner of his eye
he saw a familiar horse come into view from the direction
of High Peaks - it was King with Catriona riding
him hard.
'I left Stuart with Anne,' she said. 'They're bringing
the cattle and ewes up to the house. And you
won't want to know this, but three of the film people
are on their way here.'
David slapped his hand against his thigh. 'Hell.
I forgot they were due here today. But at this hour?
'They stayed in town last night and heard from
someone at the hotel that there was a fire here and

they apparently shot off as fast as they could. They
arrived at High Peaks about half an hour ago and got
Anne to saddle them three quiet horses. They've followed
me down to the creek.'
'Then they'll lose themselves on Yellow Rock,'
David said.
'No. They've teamed up with Greg.'
'Can they ride?' David asked.
'Not very well, and one is carrying a big camera.'
'The mad buggers will kill themselves on the
mountain. Crikey, Cat, I don't have time for this!'
'They said they wouldn't get in the way; they just
want to be here.'
'Jesus. Cat, keep your eye on them, will you?'
'Okay. Is there anything else I can do?' she asked.
'Make sure the fire doesn't come in behind you
and those blokes and cut you off. You can take that
mob Dad is bringing now down to Greg. That will
save some time.'
'I haven't got a dog, David.'
'I know that. Take Nap. He'll work for you. I'll
use Clancy.'
When Catriona arrived back from driving the first
lot of sheep down to Greg, she found Andrew holding
a small mob of about a hundred sheep. Andrew was
looking into the pall of smoke that now covered the
upper hill country. Not far from him the three men
from the film company had set up their camera and
were filming the activity around them.
Just at that moment David appeared from out of

the smoke with another fifty or so sheep. 'They're
getting harder to locate,' he said. 'I saw another lot
near Wallaby Rocks.'
'David, let them go,' Andrew cautioned.
'I've still got time. I can't let them burn to death,'
he said.
'Better the sheep than you,' Andrew said grimly.
And then David was gone and, as a gust of wind
momentarily cleared the smoke, they saw him
heading along the side of the ridge for Wallaby Rocks.
At that moment the fire roared up over the ridge and
they knew that unless David saw it and galloped back,
he would be cut off. The film-makers captured him
turning in the saddle and looking behind at the fire,
but he had sent Clancy after some sheep and he
would never leave his dog.
'David,' Catriona called out desperately, but he
wouldn't listen. Even above the roar of the flames
they could hear David's voice calling, 'Clancy, get up.
Get up, boy.' Clancy pulled himself up over one big
boulder after another until he was sitting right on top
of a mammoth bare rock half the size of a house. And
then the fire roared across the ridge and down the
other side. Finally they could see David no longer.
He was lost in a sea of smoke.







Chapter Twenty-eight






Catriona was screaming and crying alongside
Andrew as he looked grimly into the fire-ravaged
scene of desolation. Two of the film-makers were
gazing with open-mouthed horror at what they had
just seen, but this didn't stop the third man filming.
Catriona made an attempt to ride closer, but Andrew
caught King's bridle and brought her back. She was
still screaming hysterically, and finally Andrew threw
a pannikin of water in her face. That stopped the
screaming but great sobs still racked her body.
There was absolutely nothing anyone could do
until the fire burnt itself out on the ridge and the
main fire front passed down the eastern slope.
It took more than half an hour to burn up the
scrub and dead timber on the ridge and then the fire
surged on down the slope, more slowly now that the
wind was not behind it.

'Where's David?' Greg asked, appearing from
behind.
'In there,' Andrew said, pointing into the thick,
choking smoke on the ridge. 'Tie the dogs up so they
can't follow me. They'll burn their feet if they do.
I'm going over there to find him, one way or another.'
'I'm going with you,' Catriona said through her
sobs.
'It would be better if you didn't,' Andrew said
gently.
'No, it wouldn't. King will take me anywhere.'
'All right,' Andrew said with resignation. 'Pick
your way. There's a lot of logs still burning, and trees.
Keep clear of them. If your horse collects a hot cinder,
you'll have a job getting him any further. Greg, you
hold this mob here until we get back.'
'Where's Nap?' Catriona asked.
'I thought he was with you,' Andrew said.
'He was and then he wasn't,' Catriona said.
Andrew shook his head in despair at the devastating
situation. 'Those Missen boys have got a lot to
answer for.'
They picked their way across the blackened,
smoking ridge and bypassed burning stumps and logs.
Their horses, well-schooled though they were, were
nervous of the flames and smoke. They reached the
monstrous boulders up which Clancy had climbed,
but there was no sign of the dog. They continued
riding right around the rocks. No dog, dead or alive,
greeted their anxious eyes.

'Look, there's a burnt sheep,' Catriona said. 'And
there's another.'
Andrew's concern increased. If these sheep were in
the mob David had tried to rescue, the fire must have
overwhelmed them. But why only two? They did not
find any more burnt sheep or see any sign of Nap or
Clancy. As they dipped down off the ridge towards
Wallaby Rocks, the smoke and flames were thicker;
there were more logs and they were still burning.
'Catriona, there's just a chance . . .' Andrew said
hesitantly. 'That big cave. David would have had that
in his mind all the time, to fall back on.'
'Do you think he could have made it in time?'
Catriona asked.
'If I know David, I reckon that's where he would
have made for.'
Together they rode along a sheep pad in an eerie
world of smoke and burning bushland. A tree crashed
down on the ridge above them and caused their
horses to prance nervously. It was getting difficult to
see much for the smoke, and Andrew handed
Catriona his big handkerchief. 'Tie it over your nose
and mouth.'
'Please, God, let David be there,' Catriona said.
'Better get off,' Andrew said.
He waited until Catriona had dismounted and
then they picked their way across the still-smoking
ground towards the front of the cave. Catriona
dropped King's reins and ran ahead. Andrew picked
up the reins and followed more cautiously.

Catriona stopped at the cave's entrance and peered
inside. The scene that met her eyes was one she would
never forget. The first thing she saw was a red and
tan dog, which she knew was Nap by the grey on his
muzzle. He stood sentinel at the mouth of the cave
with his head pointed towards a small mob of sheep.
And then, as Catriona's eyes became more accustomed
to the gloom and smoke inside the cave, she
saw David, his horse and another red and tan dog.
David was dripping water from his water bottle onto
Clancy's feet and the dog was making little whimpering
noises.
'David,' Catriona screamed as she ran towards
him. Crying, she fell to her knees beside him.
David put his arms around her and waited
patiently for her sobs to subside. And then he looked
beyond her and saw his father standing at the mouth
of the cave with the horses.
'I reckoned you'd find your way here,' Andrew
said grimly. He looked at his son, who was covered
in black soot, and a great wave of relief passed over
him.
'You crazy, crazy man,' Catriona said. 'You should
have left those damned sheep. And how did Nap get
here? He was with me. What's wrong with Clancy?'
'He's burned his feet quite badly, I think. He must
have waited on the rock until the fire passed by and
then come looking for me. I think he saw or smelt
Nap go by like the wind. Nap picked up this mob
and we got them in here. After a while Clancy found

us but he couldn't stand up any longer. Don't know
how he got this far with those feet. Dad, how are
you? How's the fire?'
'I think we've saved most of the Poitrel sheep.
There's a couple of dead ones up top and there's
probably more elsewhere, but some of those we
missed could have got in among the rocks. We'll have
to winkle them out or they'll starve. What's our next
move?'
'Dad, we either get the hell out of here or else we
can all sit down and have a drink of tea.'
Andrew and Catriona stared at him in amazement.
And then Andrew laughed so uncharacteristically that
Catriona wondered if he, too, had become a little
crazy.
'If it comes to that, I reckon we've earned a drink
of tea,' Andrew said. 'Especially as we went without
breakfast. But what about Greg and those film blokes?
God knows what they're thinking.'
'Catriona knows where the billy is and I have tea
things in my saddlebag. We'll have no trouble finding
some burning wood! When you get the billy going,
you might care to ride up to the top of the ridge and
wave to Greg. And then we'll have to see what's happening
elsewhere and get those film blokes home.
And someone is going to have to take Clancy to the
vet. He's in a lot of pain.'
'Poor Clancy,' Catriona said as she patted the
dog's head.
'I want you to get him in to the vet's as fast as

you can,' David said. 'I reckon he'll be lucky to work
again. Greg can go with you. He can keep his eyes
open for the Missens. Oh, and I'd call in at the house
before you leave. Your face is very sooty.'
Catriona put a hand to her face and grimaced
when it came away black.
'I must look a sight,' she said.
'Not to me you don't,' David said. 'You looked
like an angel when I saw you standing there.'
Later, when Andrew had returned from the ridge
and they had all drunk their tea, David got to his
feet. 'I suppose we'd better make tracks.'
'What about Clancy?' Andrew said.
'Heave him up to me when I get on.'
Clancy whined softly when Andrew lifted him on
to the saddle in front of David. 'You'll be right, old
mate. The vet will give you something for your
pain.'
They rode back through the devastation with Nap
shepherding the sheep behind them. Only a dog with
superlative holding ability could have held sheep
together under the conditions that prevailed on the
ridge, and David had never been prouder of a dog
than he was of Nap that day.
Greg rode across the ridge towards them, pointing
back behind him. The film men were still shooting
as they approached. The western sky was full of dark
clouds and away in the distance they could hear the
low rumble of thunder.
'We're going to get a storm,' Andrew said to David

and Catriona. 'There was a storm came up after the fire
that went through Inverlochy. It came after a westerly
like this one. Rained a dollop. Let it be quick.'
But the film-makers were not concerned with the
likelihood of a storm. They were beside themselves
with joy because they had just shot one of the best
and most authentic pieces of film they could have
hoped for. And as they had filmed the sooty trio
emerging from the smoke, with David holding
Clancy across the pommel of his saddle, the figures
had been obscured enough for them to pass for their
leading actors. Even Clancy's burnt feet were real, and
though not in the script, they would have no trouble
working it in.
David hardly acknowledged the film crew. His
immediate concern was to get Clancy to the vet.
'Greg, I want you to take Clancy and go with
Catriona back to the house and then on to the vet.
You can take the ute. There's a shotgun under the
seat.'
'Cat, tell the vet that no matter what it costs he's
to try and get Clancy right. If he doesn't know much
about burns, have him call in a specialist. Be very firm
about it, okay?'
'I understand. I'll have to leave him there,
won't I?'
'No doubt. Tell the vet I'lI ring him later on
tonight.' He handed Clancy across to Greg and waved
them away. Just before they left, he leant over and
kissed Catriona on the cheek.

'See you later, Cat. Go for your life. I'll get King
back to you after this is all over.'
David wheeled his horse and walked it across to
where the three men from the film company were
talking together. 'You fellows should follow Cat and
Greg, but you'll need to hurry or you'll lose them.
Dad and I won't have time to look out for you.
There's a storm on the way and your gear will get
soaked.'
The three men got on their horses and set off after
Catriona and Greg.
'Thank God they're out of our hair,' David said
as he and Andrew trotted their horses down the hill
towards the men working along the flanks of the fire.
It had burned into High Peaks but had been stopped
by the firefighters on a ridge below Yellow Rock. It
was now burning itself out among the jumbled rocks
and stony gullies. But there was a lot of smoke
coming from the far boundary of Poitrel, and David
wondered whether the fire had burned into Strath
Fillan. The problem was that they couldn't be in two
places at once. Their main worry was the fire that had
gone down past Wallaby Rocks. If the wind changed,
it could spread into Jimmy's Mountain and come
back over the hill behind the homestead.
'It should be raining within two hours, if we're
lucky,' David said.
As they continued on down the hill towards the
Poitrel-Inverlochy road, they saw a rider approaching.
It was Angus Campbell on a Poitrel horse. He

lifted his hand in greeting as he came up to them.
'You fellows look a bit worse for wear,' he said in
his usual deadpan way.
'We had a brush with the fire. Cat will tell you
about it later on,' David said.
'Where is Catriona?' Angus barked.
'She and Greg have taken Clancy to the vet. His
feet were burned in the fire. Where is it now?'
'I think this side of the fire is under control,'
Angus said. 'Thank God for the rocks. You can get
in and do something when there's rocks to break it
up. There's a team over on the Hamiltons' and
they're having a hard time of it. I've just sent another
ten men over there, but getting water up for the backpacks
is the killer. It's a hell of a caper in this hill
country.'
'We know,' David said. He looked up at the sky,
which had darkened considerably, and the thunder
was much louder now, too. 'Looks as if we might get
some help.'
'I sure hope so. I suppose the head of the fire is
still heading east?' Angus said.
'It is at the moment. It would take an army of
men to stop it in that country. Of course, it could
turn and come down on us from behind Jimmy's
Mountain.'
'Hopefully we won't have to worry about that.
You might remember, Andy, that our fire was stopped
by a storm that came up just like this one,' Angus
said.

'Yes. Well, things could be a lot worse. If Kate
hadn't spotted it early, or if it had started yesterday,
we might have lost the lot,' Andrew said.
'Did you lose any sheep?' Angus asked.
'We did see a few dead ones and don't know how
many more there could be. And we'll have a bit of
fencing to do,' David said.
'There's no doubt that those Missen boys are pure
poison,' Angus said.
'If it was them - and Kate was certain it was - I
feel really sorry for Roy and Bessie. This will kill
them. They borrowed a lot of money to get the stupid buggers out and they're not out five minutes and
they're in trouble again. Have you heard anything on
the radio?' David asked.
'Too damned busy,' Angus said.
Two hours later David and Andrew rode home in
pouring rain. They were thoroughly soaked, as were
their dogs beside them. They rode into their horse
yard with an anxious Anne waiting for them on the
front verandah. After they had had hot baths and a
good feed and changed into some clean clothes,
Catriona and Greg came racing up the front steps to
the verandah.
'You'll never believe what's happened!' Catriona
said. 'Bill and Wade have been killed. There was a
car chase on the Bunnan Road. Their car skidded,
ran off the road and smashed into a tree. They were
going so fast their ute was literally wrapped around
it. They were both dead when the police arrived.'

'Oh, dear,' Anne said. 'Who could have imagined
those two boys would end up like that? Poor Roy and
Bessie.'
There was silence on the verandah as the rain continued
to pour down. Nobody knew what to say.
'What's the news on Clancy?' David asked at last.
'The vet said he thought that in time the pads
would grow a kind of lining, but his feet would never
stand much work. You could use him for a stud dog
or perhaps put boots on him so you could show off
with him, but that's about all. The vet wants you to
go and see him.'
'I don't know what you put that poor dog through
up there. You're a crazy young man, David,' Anne said.
'Catriona, why you would ever want to be involved with
a man of this family is beyond me. Why don't you consider
a doctor for a husband? Or a vet?'
'I've waited a long time for this man,' Catriona
said, smiling across at David.
'Just as well, I suppose. I am getting old and one
mad MacLeod male is enough for me to handle.'
'Nonsense, Mum,' David said. 'You're far from
being old. And Nap was trying to save our sheep. I
cheated on him once when I sent him away for three
years, and I wasn't going to let him down again. I
knew I could make that cave if the worst came to the
worst. The only tragedy is Clancy's feet. Will they
recover enough for me to work him at Canberra? I'll
work him in boots if I have to.'
'There's a hoodoo on Clancy,' Andrew said. 'The

dog is a genius, the like of which a man gets only
once in a lifetime, and yet you can't take advantage
of what he has to offer.'
'I'll get him there this time,' David said grimly.
'I don't care what it costs me.'
The story of Nap's feat spread like wildfire and he
made the national news for the second time. The story
'Kelpie saves sheep in bushfire' was seen by millions
of viewers in eastern Australia. Bruce McClymont saw
it and was beside himself with joy because his Nap
dogs were the boom kelpies of Australia. Two animal welfare organisations initiated moves to honour Nap's
courage in first helping Kate Gilmour and then sheep
threatened with death by fire. These awards would
take about a year to be formalised.
Later that afternoon, with the rain still coming
down in torrents, the MacLeods sat and discussed
what needed to be done in the wake of the fire.
'Fencing first,' Andrew said.
'You'll not touch one piece of fence, Andy,' Anne
said. 'You're to take a couple of days off after today.
Just sit down and read the papers.'
'Mum's right, Dad. Forget the fencing. I'll get a
contractor onto it. We've got the money now. More
important than anything right now is Clancy. First
thing in the morning I'm going in to see what the
vet has to say about him.'
Clancy's feet were encased in bandages but his tail
wagged furiously when he heard David's voice in the
surgery the next day.

'G'day, David. They tell me you had a close shave
up there yesterday,' Eric Chalmers said.
'It was close enough,' David replied.
'That old Nap must be a marvel. He thinks like a
human being.'
'He keeps on surprising me, that's for sure, and I
thought I knew him backwards,' David said.
'Those kelpies of yours must be about the best
dogs in the whole damn country.'
'I don't know how we'd get on without them.
Now what's the news on Clancy?' David asked with
a frown.
'It could be worse, but then again it could be a
lot better,' Chalmers said with a grin. 'I've consulted
with the Vet School in Sydney and also with a human
doctor who's a burns specialist. They agreed with my
own treatment and prognosis, although there are a
couple of new options available for humans so I'll try
one of those medications. Clancy's pads have been
cooked and most of the skin has either sloughed off
already or will do soon. We believe he will grow new
skin but it will be thinner. It won't have the toughness
of his old pads, but we can look at perhaps
toughening it artificially. There are a couple of things
we can try. You would probably be aware that some
of the old hands used a wattle-bark solution. I can
talk to you about that later. I should warn you,
David, as I told Catriona yesterday, that it is very
unlikely Clancy will be any good for hard work,'
Chalmers said.

'Okay, so he won't be able to do hard work, but
could he still run a trial?'
Chalmers looked David up and down. He had
more time for this young man than almost anyone
else he knew. 'How good is Clancy, David?' he asked
without answering David's question.
'Only Dad and I know about it, so let's keep it
between us. Clancy is the best trial dog in Australia.
He's a freak. Nap is perhaps a better sheepdog, but
Clancy would wipe the floor with him on three sheep.
If I can get Clancy to Canberra, I think I can win
the National with him, even as a Maiden dog. That's
how good he is.'
'And Andy agrees?'
'Dad hasn't worked him before but he says he's
never seen a better dog,' David said.
'If we have to, we can put boots on him. If
Clancy is that good, he's worth putting a lot of
effort into to try and get him right. We don't have
a lot of time in terms of healing, so the sooner we
can get the new skin to grow the sooner we can
start toughening up his new pads. You won't be
able to work him until the last month, and I'd work
him in boots right up to the last. You should get
him well used to working in boots in case you have
to use them at the trial. How many runs would he
have to do?'
'Depends on how he scores. Top Maiden dogs go
into the Open. If he gets into the Open and then
into the Open final, he would have three runs.

'Gee, that's forty-five minutes of running. It's not
much for a seasoned dog but a lot for a dog with
wonky feet.'
'I have to give Clancy the chance. I may not make
it to Canberra again. That's why this next National
is so important to me.'
'You'd better leave Clancy here for a few more
days. I'll watch him closely, and when I'm satisfied
that his pads are healing, you can take him back and
continue with the treatment.'
'That's fine by me,' David said. 'The money
doesn't matter. It's getting Clancy better that matters.
His smashed leg put him out last time, and now this.
You get a dog like this once in a lifetime, if you're
lucky, and these things happen.'
'That's life, David. You go and get your fencing
up and leave me to worry about Clancy.'
So David left the vet's surgery with mixed feelings.
Well, he thought, if Clancy did have to wear boots
at the National, it would be a talking point in the
caravans all over Canberra Showground.
David was fortunate to be able to get hold of a
fencing contractor almost immediately. It was important
to get the fencing done as quickly as possible
because High Peaks was now running nearly double
its usual sheep flock. Feed had come away well after
the big storm and this helped with the heavy stocking
on High Peaks. David took the opportunity while the
wethers were all together to drench them, and then
the Poitrel sheep were drafted off by earmark and

taken back to their old paddocks. Here the feed
had come away wonderfully well since the fire and
all the burnt ground was covered in sweet new grass.
The wethers trotted away and in the space of only
a few minutes were spread out across the hills.
'They know where they are, Dad,' David said to
his father as he watched the sheep move quickly
across the paddocks to old haunts.
'They sure do. Well, they've got some fresh new
grass now and they'll do real well on it. The fire
would have killed all the worm eggs, too. Things
could have been worse. Looks like we lost about fifty
sheep in all.'
'And Clancy's feet,' David added sombrely.
They rode back through the green paddocks with
a sense of relief that conditions were back to normal:
the Poitrel sheep were back in their old paddocks and
High Peaks had reverted to its usual stocking rate.
They were within a squeak of purchasing Glen Morrison,
the property opposite Poitrel. It ran back in the
general direction of the Cassilis Road and, except for
a section of hilly country, it was first-class grazing
land very similar to Inverlochy country. It was probably
too rich for merino sheep, though the famous
Collaroy strain of merinos had been grazed there way
back in the early days of settlement. It was also very
good cattle-fattening country, and this fitted in with
David's idea of taking some of his Aberfeldy cattle
there.
David reckoned he had enough on his plate for

two men to handle, but he loved his work. He just
hoped he would have the time to put in with Clancy
before Canberra - and he hoped the wattle-bark solutions
would shape up to be as good as the old hands
reckoned.Chapter Twenty-nine



Now that the fencing had been completed and Glen
Morrison was as good as theirs, David turned his
attention to the next major consideration - his marriage
to Catriona. So far their engagement had been
kept secret, although Anne had had her suspicions.
Angus had not yet got wind of David's Queensland
inheritance, which was a minor miracle in Merriwa.
It was only the fact that it was a legacy from interstate
that kept the news from spreading. But when Angus
learned that the MacLeods had bought Glen Morrison,
he was likely to be just as upset as he had been
when Wilfred White offered them Poitrel. Jack Carruthers,
who owned Glen Morrison, had a lot of time
for the MacLeods and was pleased to be selling to
them. He was also happy about not paying an agent's
commission, which amounted to a good few thousand
dollars.
Meanwhile, David had Catriona to consider. He

knew that he could not put off talking to Angus any
longer. Catriona was adamant that they be married
after the National, with or without her parents'
approval. She was even prepared to get married in a
registry office, although that was a last resort. David
knew that deep down Cat did want a grander
wedding with all her friends around her, and if she
was prepared to fly in the face of her parents' wishes,
it was up to him to front up to Angus and lay their
situation on the line.
A few days earlier, Catriona had ridden up to see
David and they had boiled the billy down by the
creek.
'Darling, it's no good going on like this,' Catriona
said. 'Mum and Dad are at me all the time about this
or that fellow. I can't keep stalling them forever. I've
waited all this time for you. I want you and I know
you want me. If we're to have a future together, you'll
have to tackle Daddy one day. Let's do it and get it
over with.'
'What if Angus digs his toes in?' David asked.
'I think we can expect that,' Catriona said. 'You'll
have to tell him we are getting married with or
without his approval. Tell him we'll get married in a
registry office if we have to. That should rock the
boat a bit.'
'You don't want to do that, do you, Cat?'
'Of course not. Ideally, I'd like to be married in
Sydney and in a ceremony I'll always remember.'
David walked up and down beside the creek. He

had always known that it would come to this. It was
not that he was afraid to face Angus - what concerned
him were the consequences of such a confrontation.
The atmosphere could get nasty. Catriona could be
cut off from her family, and would be extremely
upset; it wouldn't be the ideal start to a successful
marriage. But things couldn't drag on. Catriona was
being pushed to marry someone else, and David
wouldn't abide that.
'Come here, Cat,' he said. He put his arms around
her and kissed her gently. It was a very long kiss, and
by the end of it Catriona was close to tears.
'You're going to tell me something, aren't you?'
she asked.
He nodded. 'I'm going to see Angus. I can't have
you hassled to marry someone else. One way or
another, we'll be married after the National.'
'Oh, David, you darling,' Catriona cried. 'I'm
sorry you have to front Daddy, but I can't bear the
suspense any longer.'
They sat with their arms around each other's
waists, Catriona's head on David's shoulder, each
knowing that the die was cast and, come what may,
they would be married.
So several days later, on his way back from town
where he had been finalising details for their purchase
of Glen Morrison, David stopped off at Inverlochy.
Angus was attending to his mail and invited David
into his office.
'Got Poitrel all fenced again?' he asked.

'All fenced, and the Poitrel sheep back in their old
paddocks.'
'I hear that you and Andy have been up north,'
Angus said as David seated himself in one of the big
leather chairs. 'Looking at horses or cattle?'
'Both, actually,' David said noncommittally.
'Wouldn't think you'd need to bring cattle from
up there. Your herd has improved out of sight. You'd
not be buying a bull up there, would you?'
'No, we weren't thinking of doing that. Listen, Mr
Campbell, I have come here to talk to you about
something more important than cattle.'
To Angus Campbell there weren't many things
more important than cattle, and suddenly David had
his full attention.
'Is that a fact?'
'I want to talk about Catriona. We want to get
married after Canberra next year, and I am here to
ask you for her hand.'
Angus shook his head. 'You're a nice fellow,
David, and you've achieved a lot in your young life.
I like you as a man and as a neighbour, but I can't give you my permission to marry Catriona.'
'That's a pity,' David said. 'Would you mind
telling me why?'
'I don't have to give my reasons,' Angus replied.
'Is it because you think Catriona could marry
someone wealthier?' he persisted.
'That's one reason,' Angus agreed.
'And is it because I didn't go to a private school?'

'That has to be taken into consideration also.'
'And is it because a son-in-law with a father who's
a shearer is not acceptable in your circle?'
'There's no need to be offensive, David.'
'You should know that Catriona and I will be
married whether you give your approval or not. Naturally,
she would prefer your consent. Catriona is prepared
to be married in a registry office, but it needn't
come to that. We'd both prefer a proper wedding.'
'No doubt. But the fact remains that I won't give
you my permission. I have to think about my grandchildren,
too. I would want Catriona's children to be
properly educated, as Catriona has been. My daughter
could marry anyone she likes. She's had a string of
proposals - young men from the most prominent
families in the country.'
'But Catriona loves me, Mr Campbell.'
'What is love, David, if you don't have security
and prestige?'
'You are a damned snob, Mr Campbell, and a
patronising one at that,' David said vehemently.
'You can't talk to me like that,' Angus said with
his face growing even ruddier.
'I can and I will. Catriona and I will be married
whether you like it or not. If you really want to know
the truth, we have been engaged for months. In fact,
there's a lot you don't know, Angus Campbell. You
mentioned Dad and me having been up north. You
want to know why? Tim Sparkes left me everything.
Everything, you hear. You know what it amounted

to? A cattle property running over three and a half
thousand head, plus over a hundred good horses and
a holiday house at Yeppoon, not to mention two
hundred and twenty-three thousand dollars in the
bank. So I own a damn sight more cattle than you
do. What do you think of that?'
'Well, er, I had no '
David didn't wait for him to finish. 'I have just
come from town where I signed a contract to buy
Glen Morrison. As of today, the MacLeod family now
owns four properties. Not bad for a shearer and his
son. We own more land, more cattle, more horses
and as many sheep as you do, Angus. I didn't want
any of this information to influence your decision
about Catriona and me. As far as I'm concerned, you
can go to the devil. We will go ahead and make all
the necessary wedding arrangements, and pay for
them, too. It's up to you whether you come or not.
Now, good day, Angus,' David said and walked out
of the office and down the steps to his vehicle.
He was still fuming when he arrived home at High
Peaks. His father and mother were outside drinking
tea on the front verandah. Anne could see that David
was agitated as he threw himself down on a chair
beside them.
'Is something wrong? Did the sale fall through?'
she asked.
'No. Glen Morrison is ours, but I just had it out
with Angus. I asked for his permission to marry
Catriona and he refused.'

'Oh, David. You didn't tell us you were engaged!
And Angus has refused? What will you do now?'
'Get married anyway. I told him we would pay for
everything. Catriona is coming over here tonight. We
can discuss all the arrangements with her then.'
'Did Angus tell you why he wouldn't give you his
blessing?' Anne asked.
'Only after I pushed him. You should have seen
his face when he heard what I had to say to him.'
Anne looked at Andy, who was grinning broadly.
'You approve of all this, do you?' she asked sternly.
'Damned right I do,' Andy said. 'One hundred per
cent.'
'I don't suppose either of you have considered what
sort of position this puts Catriona in. The poor girl
will feel terrible. Her people have given her everything
her whole life and now she has to turn her back on
them.'
'We always knew it would come to this,' David
said grimly. 'Cat told me she would marry me with
or without their permission. And she wants to get
married as soon as possible after I get back from
Canberra - if I get to Canberra. It's her parents' fault.
They're just damned snobs.'
'That they are, but they're trying to do the best
by Catriona and her children,' Anne said. 'You can't
blame them for that.'
'Any children we might have won't want for anything,'
David said. 'It's what Cat wants that matters.
Anyway, they can't stop her. Imagine how it would

look if we had the wedding without them. They
would never live it down. Any tea left?'
'I'll make some more,' Anne said.
'About time someone tore a few strips off Angus,'
Andy said when Anne had left the room. 'He'll either
hate you forever or respect you for this, David.'
'I've got more to think about than him. I wanted
to talk to you and Mum about putting up a house
for Cat and me,' he said.
"What's all this?' Anne asked as she came back into
the room carrying a full teapot.
'I'll need to build a house for Cat and me, Mum.'
'Of course you will. Where?'
'Well, we could live at Glen Morrison, but I don't
really want to leave High Peaks. This is my home and
this is where I want to live. I thought I might build
close to Creek Paddock.'
'You should know you can build anywhere you
like, David,' Anne said.
'That's good, because I had a yarn to a builder this
morning. He could make a start about the time we're
due to go to Canberra.'
'If we go to Canberra,' Anne pointed out. 'How
is Clancy coming along?'
'Very steadily. We started him on a drug called
formalin and now I've got him onto a wattle-bark
mixture. Mr Chalmers has had a couple of pairs of
soft boots made up. I'll pick them up in a few days'
time. They'll be better than the bandages. It's going
to be touch and go, but I'm working on Needle in

the meantime. As for Belle, she's a pro - doesn't need
any extra tuition at her stage in life. The main thing
is to keep her in good working condition. Everything
depends on Clancy. If we can't get him fit, we won't
be going to Canberra. It's as simple as that.'
'Where does that leave you and Catriona?' Anne
asked. 'You used to say you wouldn't get married
until after you'd worked at Canberra.'
'Canberra or no Canberra, we'll be married. A
fellow can't keep a girl like Cat waiting forever.'
Anne clapped her hands. 'The Lord be praised!
You have at last come to your senses. I must say it's
about time. How wonderful, David. Congratulations.
Oh, I can't believe it. I can't wait to tell Kate and
Jean. A wedding at long last.'

Angus Campbell went storming out of his office in
search of his wife.
'Jane,' he roared. 'Jane, where the blazes are you?'
'In here, dear,' she called.
'Are you aware that Catriona and David MacLeod
are unofficially engaged?' he asked.
'No,' Jane said. 'Are they?'
'David has just asked for my permission to
marry Catriona and then had a go at me when I
refused. Told me some story about having been
left Tim Sparkes's property in Queensland with
thousands of cattle thrown in plus a holiday home
on the coast. And the MacLeods have just bought
Glen Morrison.'

'Fancy that. They have come up in the world.'
'Come up in the world? They own more than we
do. That's if what David tells me is true. I don't think
he'd lie. What do you think about your daughter
marrying David?'
'Well, it's not what we had in mind, Angus.
I know Catriona always liked David a lot but I did
think she would get over it. Apparently she hasn't,
and won't.'
'So what do we do now?' Angus asked.
'Catriona doesn't need your permission to marry
now that she is of age,' Jane reminded him. 'You can
try and dissuade her but I think you'll be wasting your
time.'
'Does that mean we have to accept this. . . this ...
situation?'
'I don't see what else we can do, Angus, without
making Catriona very unhappy. Do you want that?'
'Damn it, Jane, I don't want any of this! And I
can't believe that Catriona made this arrangement
behind our backs. Damn David MacLeod. He made
me look small when he gave Catriona her black horse
and now he's done it again. He didn't tell me about
the other properties before asking me about Catriona.
He sure let me have it with both barrels.'
'Catriona could do worse, you know,' Jane said.
'I must say you are taking this more calmly than
I expected,' Angus replied.
'The fact is we've lost, Angus. David will be our
son-in-law and that's that.'

'Bloody hell,' he roared and stormed away again.
He was still breathing fire when Catriona drove in
that afternoon. She had no sooner walked onto the
front verandah than he confronted her. 'In here,
Catriona,' he said, pointing towards his office.
'What is it?' she asked.
'Your mother and I are very disappointed in you,'
he said. 'How could you not see fit to tell us, your
parents, about your engagement to David MacLeod?'
'Because I knew you wouldn't approve of David.
You never have,' Catriona said calmly.
'Well, the boy has no breeding, even if he does
own four properties.'
'I am going to marry him and that's all there is to
say. It's my life. I love him.'
'Don't be so ungrateful. We only want the best
for you and our grandchildren.'
'They will have the best,' Catriona said firmly.
'And they will be brought up in a home full of love.'
Angus did not know what else to say.

Right up to the last week David was unsure if he
would get Clancy to Canberra. The formalin and
wattle-bark treatments had done the trick in toughening
up his pads, which meant he could now run
for short periods without boots, but he was hesitant
in his moves. For the first few runs he was very diffident
about stretching out, and he gingerly picked
his way over ground that was at all rough. David tried
him with the boots and saw the dog move with far

greater freedom. From then on Clancy did not hesitate
to run. The problem was that the rough ground
played havoc with the specially treated basil and
David urgently sent away for half a dozen more pairs
of boots. He didn't fancy going to Canberra short of
the precious boots. Of Clancy's ability David had
absolutely no doubt. The dog was a freak. It would
not be lack of ability that hindered him if he got to
Canberra - it would be his feet.
When David finally announced that the trip to
Canberra was a certainty, a mood of relief swept over
High Peaks and Poitrel, for they all knew that the
wedding was sure to follow.
Catriona was relieved, too, because there was a
very strained atmosphere at Inverlochy. Her father
hardly spoke to her and her mother seemed not to
know how to handle the situation. Catriona could
hardly wait to leave for Canberra.
She was to drive down with David - their first trip
away together - and she would stay at a nearby motel.
David had presented his mother with a new air
conditioned Ford Fairmont, which she would be
driving with Andy to Canberra. They had booked a
caravan right next to David's.
Anne sensed that Andy was excited about the trip,
which made a nice change for him as he never got
excited about anything. Following his stroke, Andy
had been living from day to day, and he very much
wanted to get to Canberra. For all his years with
kelpies, he had never been to a trial the scale of the

National. He had read of the great dogs and handlers
who had won there, and he knew that some of them
would be working against his son. He also knew
exactly what the National meant to David. The one
thing David could give his father, something that no
money could buy, was the National Championship.
That would put the seal on a lifetime of achievement
in perpetuating the MacLeod kelpies.
Everyone associated with the MacLeods seemed to
be excited about Canberra, too. Everyone but David,
that is. He was concerned that virtually everything
depended on the thin layer of skin tissue that covered
Clancy's pads. The dog had a great heart and would
give it everything he could, but his pads might just
let him down. David thought about taking the safer
option by working Clancy in boots, but that would
slow him down, and nobody could predict how much
of a handicap that might be. Otherwise he would just
have to take the risk and work him without boots in
the hope that his pads would hold up.
And so they went to Canberra. The showground
was actually in the suburb of Hall, but the great event
was always referred to simply as 'Canberra'. Kate had
been invited, too, but she had elected to stay and
oversee things at home.
The dogs were housed in separate, straw-filled pens
in the handsome crate on the back of David's utility
which was parked between his caravan and the one
his parents were staying in. Each morning, following
an early cup of tea, David and Andrew drove out to

a nearby property to give the dogs a run. The property
owner was a kelpie crank who the previous year
had invited David to visit. 'You want to give your
dogs a gallop, or work 'em on a few sheep, you come
on out,' Ed Somerville had told him.
David wasn't interested in working his dogs on
sheep. He said that if his dogs couldn't handle the
sheep by now, they shouldn't be in Canberra. He was
more interested in trying out Clancy's special basil
boots and giving his dogs a decent run in safe surroundings.
Keeping bush dogs tied up for a week
without exercise wasn't ideal for good mailing.
Anne would have breakfast ready for them when
they returned, and a bloke or two would be waiting
to talk sheepdogs. Bruce McClymont would drop in
to the van for a cuppa and a yarn, mostly about the
formidable task facing David's two novice dogs. Unlike
their mother, Belle, who had won trials in the past therefore
automatically qualifying for the National
Open trial - neither Clancy nor Needle had ever
worked in a trial, let alone won one. They would have
to work in the Maiden trial, and only a handful of
top-scoring dogs from this were admitted into the
Open. A dog had to be in the top half-dozen or so
to make it. It was a tall order to expect that young,
relatively inexperienced dogs could make the final of
the Maiden, much less do well in the Open.
But David felt that the months of his preparation
with his young dogs couldn't have been better. The
first opportunity to test them came just after lunch

on the second day of the trials when Needle was listed
to work. After giving the young blue and tan bitch a walk around the ground, David headed confidently
to the peg. The strange conditions did not seem to
be affecting Needle. As soon as she heard her handler's
warning hiss, she was all business. Her keen eyes
picked up the three sheep as soon as they were let out
into the arena.
After one quick look at the jumbucks, Needle
switched her attention to the hands of her owner. His
hands were important to her. As soon as the starting
bell rang, David cast Needle to her right, which was
her best side, and she surged away and ran three or
four yards out from the arena fence. Her cast was
almost perfect, although some extra-tough judges
might have docked her a point for finishing a shade
short. Her stop, lift and draw down the ground could
not have been faulted, and she did not strike any real
trouble until she had the sheep placed at the first
obstacle. A staggy wether took her on, and despite
Needle trying to hold him tightly in front of the
obstacle, the wether broke away down one side before
she could get him back. A couple of points lost there.
The same wether challenged Needle again, this time
on the bridge. He went outside the wings just once
before she managed to block him in. She might have
lost another point for the sheep being very slightly off
course between the bridge and the pen, but she
penned with three minutes to spare. David felt it was
a fairly good round considering Needle had a bugger

of a sheep to deal with. He was happy with her score
of 92 points. This was the second-top round up to
that point of the trial, and the top score by a kelpie.
Bruce McClymont had a grin a mile wide as David
and Needle came off the ground. 'Just like her
mother, David. Chip off the old block.'
'Not a bad run for a first time on a trial ground,
Bruce,' David said.
'Bloody terrific. You opened a few eyes, let me tell
you. If you hadn't had that staggy wether to deal
with, Needle might have scored anything.'
'That's mailing, Bruce.'
That night David sat with his parents and
Catriona and discussed the importance of tomorrow's
outcome. They had eaten dinner in the caravan, and
David and Catriona had held hands under the table.
Anne sensed the tension in her two men. She knew
them both so well. Andy, usually taciturn and undemonstrative,
was strung up beneath the surface, and
she didn't like that one bit. David, although apparently
nerveless, had so much riding on the events of
the following day. Catriona also realised, even more
than the others, how much this trial meant to David
and his father.
Anne tried to prepare David for the worst. 'David,
you know this is a chancy business. Clancy might not
have a good run. Don't get your hopes up too high.
Andy, you know. Tell David.'
'I already have, and David knows that. I'm not
going to roast him if the dog does no good. He's done

all anyone could do to get the dog right. Nobody
could have done a thing more.'
'Clancy won't let us down,' David said grimly.
'The dog's too good for that. It's his feet that worry
me. If they hold up he'll do the job and he'll do it
so well people will remember him for years.'
Later, as he drove Catriona to her motel, David
sought to reassure her that, win or lose, they would
be married within three months.
'No matter what happens tomorrow, or for the rest
of the trial, we'll be married, Cat. Nothing will stop
us being together now. Go and have a good night's
sleep and I'll see you in the morning.'
They kissed briefly before David drove back to the
showground, thinking that none of them really knew
how much he wanted to win this trial for his father.
Andy might not be around in a year's time if David
needed a second chance to win. It was now or never.
As for himself, the thought of having Catriona as
his wife was so wonderful he could not put it into
words. They would begin a life together, and he
would have to put her needs and wishes above his
preoccupation with dogs. But for now, tomorrow was
perhaps the most critical day of his life. He had to
put up a good score with Clancy to get him into the
Open. If he couldn't do that, he wouldn't have a
chance of winning or even being placed in the final.

Clancy was due to work midway through the
morning and, despite David's doubts about the dog's

feet, he appreciated that Clancy was his main hope.
The crowd had built up from the previous day and
there were several interstate kelpie enthusiasts in
attendance. Bruce McClymont was sitting with
Andrew, Anne and Catriona as David walked onto
the ground.
David sat the big red and tan dog well behind him
and waited for the bell. When it rang, Clancy followed
the direction of David's hand and cast out to
the right as his sister had done. He was not a foot
out from the fence as he made his out-run, and this
time no judge could have faulted his cast. He was
dead in line with David when he stopped. The three
wethers took one look at him and came down the
ground at a run. In so doing they veered slightly to
one side, and Clancy had to work wider to steer them
back on course. He would have lost something there,
but at the race he was perfect and his work at the
bridge was quite wonderful. The wethers would not
face Clancy like their mates had faced his sister. When
they looked into his eyes, they seemed to simply move
away without any resistance. He would have lost a
point at the pen when something outside the fence
startled one sheep, but when the gate was closed
David was happy with the round.
It had been a fairly fast round so Clancy hadn't
had to run much, for which David - and Clancy's
feet - were thankful. It was a two or three point
better run than Needle's effort the previous day,
and it was good enough. The 94 Clancy scored

made him equal top dog, and he held that position
almost to the conclusion of the Maiden trial. Only
then did a very experienced border collie from
Victoria take the lead with a score of 95. When
the Maiden trial concluded, Clancy had been placed
second and Needle fourth. The important consideration
was that both dogs were now through to the
Open, and despite a border collie being top scorer,
it was the efforts of David's two kelpies - neither
of which had previously worked in a trial - that
had attracted the attention of almost everyone on
the ground.
Up in the grandstand was a very old man whose
name had become a legend in sheepdog circles.
Wrapped in a thick overcoat and tartan scarf, there
was a gleam in his knowing eyes when the Maiden
trial concluded. He had been a border collie man all
his life, although his dogs had had a splash of kelpie
in them to sharpen them up; but he was not biased
towards one breed. Back in the 1930s, when he had
begun his long career with sheepdogs, he had worked
against three wonderful kelpies that had wiped the
floor at every trial. He had seen two of these score
the possible 100 points, and the youngest dog of the
trio had once or twice beaten those 100-point dogs.
One of the three dogs had such power over sheep
that they just walked away from him once eye contact
had been made. The dog could put the sheep wherever
he liked. Over the years, this old man had seen
quite a few good kelpies, including the legendary

Johnny, but he had never seen one that could hold a
candle to these three. He had seen Johnny win every
one of his five National Trials and he attributed these
successes more to the late Athol Butler's mastery of
the handling art than to Johnny's innate ability. No,
he had seen nothing to compare with those three
great kelpies - until today. He had liked the work of
the young blue and tan bitch, Needle, but she could
not be compared with the red and tan dog called
MacLeod's Clancy. Here, at long last, he seemed to
have found a real kelpie, but he knew better than to
praise the dog too highly after just one run. So he
kept his counsel. Yet for all that, the old man was
very excited. He was not concerned that Clancy had
been beaten into second place by a very experienced
dog. In terms of natural ability, the kelpie was streets
ahead of the border collie. He could not wait to see
Clancy work again.
The following day the Open trial began, and it
was Belle's turn to show what she could do. The brilliant
bitch did not let her owners down. Andrew and
David had always claimed that she was a real natural
who required very little training; more than that, she
was the modern embodiment of the great kelpies of
the past. David was determined to illustrate this
claim. To Belle, three-sheep trials on a perfectly flat
arena were simply a game after mustering wethers on
rocks and in dogwood scrub on Yellow Rock. That
was real work, compared with which trial work was
child's play.


As with all the MacLeod dogs, Belle's cast was near
perfect and her field work was outstanding. Head
bowed into her sheep, she floated across the ground
in her unique, effortless way, always seeming to know
what the sheep would do. Her anticipation was so
acute that she had sheep stopped before they had even
begun to move.
When they arrived at the pen, David put his hands
in his pockets and left the penning to Belle. There
were no strident commands because Belle did not
need them. Her holding ability was breathtaking and
she was extremely fast. One sheep broke quickly but
Belle skidded to stop him within seconds, although
at the bridge she was not quite as strong as most of
her kennel mates. Her gifts were holding sheep in the
open and her wonderful cast. It was a top round
which scored her 94 points. Bruce McClymont was
ecstatic.
David had to wait another day before it was
Needle's turn to run in the Open. She struck trouble
on the lift when one sheep bolted back to the fence,
and she had to do some great work to hold the three
sheep together. Her score of 89 was very good in the
circumstances, but would not be high enough to get
her into the final.
The following day it was Clancy's turn again and,
despite Belle's good score, David felt that if he were
to win the National, it would depend on the way
Clancy handled his sheep that day. David was very
nervous before the trial, but as soon as the bell was

rung his nerves left him, as he concentrated on what
he had to do. It also seemed to him, knowing the
dog so well, that Clancy was different this time
around. He had gained in confidence and was really
on the job.
But it was not all plain sailing for Clancy. When
they reached the pen, one sheep broke out to the side,
just as had happened in Belle's round. Hating sheep
to beat him, Clancy skidded to block it, and prevented
losing any points. It was a brilliant piece of
work, but as David closed the gate of the pen, his
heart missed a beat. Clancy was holding up his left
front leg. Even before he let the sheep out of the pen,
David raced over to Clancy and inspected his foot.
His worst fears were confirmed - half of the pad had
sloughed off. The enormous friction generated by
Clancy's skid across the grass had been too much for
him. Even so, the dog put his foot down and shepherded
the three wethers off the ground. David hardly
heard the score of 96 as it was announced over the
loudspeaker.
Bruce McClymont was beside himself. He had
dogs at home by the sire of Clancy and he had a good
Belle bitch as well. The value of these dogs had
increased considerably because of what the MacLeod
dogs had already achieved in this tournament. It was
a dream come true for Bruce, even if the dogs went
no further.
The old man who had picked Clancy as a freak
after seeing his first run turned to his old cobber and

said, 'That red and tan dog is a genius, and so is the
fellow who's working him.'
Harry Marchant, who was sitting nearby, nodded
his head in agreement. 'You're right there. That fellow
won his first trial at ten years of age and I was there
when he did it.'
But the High Peaks contingent was grim-faced
when David walked the limping Clancy back to his
caravan. Andrew nodded his acknowledgement of the
round, and that was sufficient reward for David. Like
his son, he knew that a lot of dogs would keep
working on ruined pads, and leave blood on the
ground while they did it, but they could not move as
quickly as sound-footed dogs. In a trial of this stature,
you could not afford to begin with a handicap - that
could be enough to lose you the trial.
'Half his pad has gone. It was that last block at
the pen that caused it.'
Andrew nodded. 'What do you reckon about it,
Davie?'
'I'll bandage it and try him with one boot and see
how he runs. If it throws him off balance, I'll put
boots on both front feet. I reckon we'll have to find
a vet and get him to give Clancy a pain-killer before
he works again.'
Next morning, when they took the dogs out to
Ed Somerville's property for their run, David experimented
with the boots. To his relief, the single boot
did not seem to inconvenience Clancy at all. He and
Anne had put cotton wool on the pad and then

bandaged it very slowly and carefully. Then finally
the boot was pulled over the top of that. David did
not risk running him without a pain-killer, which the
vet administered by injection.
Back at Inverlochy, Angus was having a battle with
his conscience, and his pride, and Jane was behaving
very strangely. She had always made much of the fact
that their daughter should marry well. Now she was
worried that she risked permanent estrangement from
Catriona if they did not give their blessing to her
marrying David.
'Damn it all, Jane. You had more to do with
Catriona than anyone else. You told her that she
should marry well.'
'And you agreed, Angus. But we're going to lose
our daughter if we don't give in, and I don't want to
lose her.'
Angus didn't want to lose Catriona either. He
was also disturbed about his standing in David's
eyes. Clearly, David had a low opinion of him as
a man. He had never concerned himself with what
other people thought of him before. As chairman of
every board and committee he sat on, he knew he
had the respect of his peers. But David's opinion
had come to matter, now that he was a person of
real substance. The MacLeod family had done more
and accumulated more property than anyone else he
knew. Catriona would not be marrying a nobody.
And now David was down in Canberra with his
dogs - and Catriona was with him - and Angus

had a sudden urge to know what was going on.
'Ring the motel and leave a message for Catriona
to contact us,' Angus said to Jane. 'I want to know
how David is doing.'
When Catriona rang back with the news that
David had two dogs in the Open final, Angus made
a quick decision.
'Throw some clothes together, Jane. We're going
to Canberra. Damned if I'm going to miss all the
excitement. I reckon I'm big enough to wish my
future son-in-law well before the final,' he said.
To which Jane replied with a simple, heartfelt,
'Thank you.'





















Chapter Thirty





When the last of the Open dogs had worked, David
had both Belle and Clancy in the eight-dog final.
Belle had received the second-lowest score of the
qualifiers and Clancy the second highest. It was the
best result for kelpies in the past twenty-five years.
The other finalists were all top border collies from
three states, and the men who owned and handled
them were real professionals. One mistake against
such competition could put David right out of the
running - and didn't he know it. He had waited years
to win this trial for his father, and he had a wonderful
young woman standing by while he acted out his
dream.
'So this is it, Davie,' Andrew said as they ate lunch
in the caravan on that last day. The finals were due
to begin in a little over an hour.
'This is it, Dad,' he agreed.
'Well, you've got two dogs in the final, and that

is really something in this company. Don't be disappointed
if you don't win it. I want you to know
that I couldn't have done one bit better, if as good,
as you've done. I couldn't be prouder of you than I
am right now. And anything could happen. The
breeze is getting up and I know that these sheep can
be hard to handle here when there's a wind.'
Andrew's prediction about the wind turned out to
be prophetic. The first finalist was crossed by the
sheep and disqualified immediately. The second dog,
a vastly experienced border collie from Victoria,
handled the sheep well but lost several points trying
to hold them on course. He finished up with a total
of 92.
The next dog to work was Belle. Unfortunately
the sheep quickly beat her to the left side of the
ground as they ran into the wind. She pulled them
across to her handler but was down a few points from
the outset. She was used to lively sheep, though, and
was very quick in her movements. The sheep were
nowhere near as difficult as the rogue wethers on
Yellow Rock and Jimmy's Mountain, where she had
worked all her life. She penned for 92, which gave
her a combined total of 186.
Because David had two dogs in the final, Clancy
would be the last to work, making David the final
competitor in that year's National. When David
walked back to the caravan after Belle's run, he had
a quick word with his father. They were both concerned
that the sheep would be running into the

wind. As soon as the wethers were released and
smelled the wind blowing in from the mountains,
they immediately moved off into it. This meant that
there was no big cast on the left side of the ground
for fear of a dog crossing, and a dog cast to the right
could not get around to head the sheep before they
were off course. Every dog had lost points for being
off course when it picked up its sheep.
'Davie, the very instant the bell goes, don't wait
to see where the sheep end up. Cast Clancy to the
left and send him fast. That's the best chance you've
got not to lose points for being off course.'
'Okay,' David said. He looked as grim as his father
had ever seen him; grim and determined.
David knew that what it came down to was having
confidence in his dog. He would have to rely on
Clancy not crossing if he cast him to the left, but
would get to the head and hold the sheep in the
middle of the ground. That done, he could bring
them straight down the ground to the handler's peg.
Easy in theory, but could it be done?
David walked to the gate of the arena and looked
back at the people in the stand. He noted his father
and mother and Catriona - and, sitting beside her,
Angus and Jane Campbell. From the smiles on their
faces, David reckoned things were going to be okay
at Inverlochy. Andy had his notebook and pencil on
his knee so he could do his own judging.
Away to the right David quickly noted Laurence
Singer standing beside his film crew. They had filmed

his earlier rounds and were now in position to record
this, the last and most important round of the
National Trials.
David took a deep breath and stepped out onto
the ground. When he walked out to the peg there was
absolute silence around the ground. The crowd had
increased significantly and there were even many dignitaries
in attendance. David knew he had to score
another 96 to win. If the sheep ran well off course,
that could lose him enough points to beat him in the
opening moments of his round. Belle was in third
place and would be fourth if Clancy scored above her.
Even so, third place in the National would be a very
satisfactory result. But it was Clancy he now had all
his faith in; he was the blend of two of the greatest
kelpies, Nap and Belle. Combining Nap's brains and
Belle's moves, Clancy had it over the pair of them.
What really made the difference, what really set
Clancy apart, was his extremely rare hypnotic power
over sheep. This gift had been the hallmark of legendary
kelpies like Coil, Biddy Blue and Boy Blue.
After sheep looked into the eyes of these dogs, they
seemed to come under some spell and moved under
their direction. This was something entirely different
to a dog's power to frighten sheep.
David's father had told him about this rare trait
when he was a small boy. It was found in certain
strains of pure-blood kelpies that had not been contaminated
by other bloodlines, and traced back to the
old Quinn and King and McLeod strains. Andrew

MacLeod's dogs had these strains. But a dog needed
more than this to be a good sheepdog. Clancy had it
all. The first time David had worked him on sheep,
he noticed that they neither fought nor ran from him
but simply moved away quietly. That was when he
first suspected he had a dog to be reckoned with on
the trial ground. He would have to make the three
sheep look at Clancy long enough to be drawn in by
his hypnotic power.
Only one other person on the ground outside
David and Andrew recognised what made Clancy so
different from any other dog competing at that year's
National Trial, and that was the legendary old sheepdog
man swathed in a heavy overcoat and scarf who
was sitting up in the stand near David's family and
friends.
David tried to put all his fears about Clancy's
dicey feet into the back of his mind and concentrate
on the dog's great gift as he made his way out to the
centre of the ground. As soon as the first clang of the
starter's bell rang out, David signalled Clancy to cast
left. He used a very different-sounding whistle than
normal, the whistle he used when he required his dogs
to run at top speed to collect rogue wethers bolting for
rough places. Normally David liked his dogs to run
their casts at a steady pace so they could concentrate
on what they were doing, but right then the priority
was to get Clancy out and around the sheep before they
ran into the wind and veered off the tight course.
Clancy understood what the piercing whistle

meant and he shot away like an arrow discharged
from a powerful bow. He was a very fast dog, and
despite the boot on his front paw, there was no exception
to his speed today. It looked as if the pain-killer
in Clancy's foot was doing its job.
The sheep had hardly smelled the wind before
Clancy was behind them. There David held him, and
held him even longer, while the sheep looked deep
into his big eyes.
'What's he doing?' someone in the stand asked the
legendary old man.
'What is he doing, you ask. By crikey, this dog is
going to mesmerise his sheep. When they turn away,
they'll do just what that dog asks of them.'
'Why is he wearing a boot?' a lady near them asked.
'I heard he was burnt in a bushfire,' her husband
replied.
'Oh, the poor little dog. I hope he wins,' she said.
The crowd looked on in amazement as Clancy cast
his mesmerising spell over the sheep. Soon enough,
as if in a slow-motion movie, the three wethers turned
away and walked very slowly down the ground
towards the handler's starting peg. Clancy steered
them around the peg in a very tight semicircle so that
they were not even a fraction off course, and then
pointed them in the direction of the first obstacle.
The sheep moved in a dream-like manner, almost as
if they had been drugged, and passed through the race
only seconds after David arrived at the handler's
circle. He moved off towards the bridge and was there

to check the sheep on the near side as Clancy covered
them on the right. The sheep turned and looked at
Clancy again and David let them soak up the dog's
unique power. Then they turned away and walked
sedately up the ramp of the bridge onto the bridge
itself. There they stopped momentarily and David
brought Clancy up the ramp and onto the bridge.
The sheep jumped off and walked a few steps before
stopping and looking back. To the spellbound watchers,
it almost seemed as if they were waiting for the
dog to dictate their course.
David walked to the handler's ring at the pen and
let Clancy bring the sheep to him. This was a tricky
part of the course. If the sheep left the pen before he
had closed the gate, he would get no score at all for
this component of the trial.
Clancy circled to the right to drive the wethers
back against the gate, and then blocked them when
they moved an inch towards David. One sheep
looked back at Clancy and then trotted into the pen.
The other two followed suit. David sat Clancy down,
left his circle and shut the gate. He touched Clancy
briefly on the top of his head before opening the pen
to take the wethers off the ground. And then there
was an enormous roar and a spontaneous burst of
clapping from right around the ground.
'What did I tell you?' the old legend said to
nobody in particular. 'You can take it from me, you
may never see the likes of that dog or his handler
again, if you live to be a hundred.'

'What did you score him?' Harry Marchant asked,
turning to the old man.
'In my book, you couldn't get him for a point. It
was just as perfect as Johnny's run in 1952.'
Anne clutched Andrew's arm in excitement. 'What
did you score him, Andy?' she asked, knowing full
well how hard a judge her husband was of sheepdogs.
Andrew showed her his notebook.
'Oh, my God,' she exclaimed, and whispered
something in Catriona's ear, which she in turn passed
on to her father. Angus had sat spellbound as he
watched David in action. It had been a class act. The
fact that this young man was going to be his son-in
law was something to think about.
David took the three wethers to the collecting pen
with the noise of the crowd drumming in his ears and
his heart pounding wildly in his chest. His eyes
scanned the ground for his family and Catriona, but
in all the commotion he couldn't make them out. He
knew that Clancy had just worked the best round he
had ever seen. He had thought Belle's 99 at their local
trial was just about perfect, but Clancy's round was
the ultimate. But would the judge think so?
And then the noise of the crowd died away and
there was a hush right around the arena as the judge
walked over to the officials behind the starting peg.
A man approached the microphone to announce the
score. David heard, as if in a dream, the words 'one
hundred points' come over the loudspeaker. Clancy a
Maiden dog - had scored the possible 100 points,

equalling the performance of the legendary Johnny.
Clancy, the novice, had won the National Trial.
Now the sound was almost deafening as David
walked back across the ground, soaking in the atmosphere
of this incredible occasion. He had wanted this
win, here, for his father, more than anything. Now
all Australia would know about the MacLeod kelpie
dogs.
As he walked the last steps to the gate through
which he had entered the arena, his eyes at last found
the faces of the people who meant so much to him.
There was his mother, her face covered in tears as she
looked on at David, who, in turn, desperately sought
his father. Anne's face was beaming as she watched
Andrew. She thought she even saw tears on the old
fellow's face.
Anne was so enormously proud of both men she
could hardly speak. Words seemed to choke in her
throat. Her son had done what he had set out to do,
what he had said he wanted to do ever since he was
a boy. He had given his father the greatest prize a
sheepdog breeder could aspire to. Twice Clancy's progress
towards this great prize had been threatened by
injuries, but today his great class had finally prevailed.
It was almost too much to bear. And for as long as
Andy lived, whether it was for a week or a month or
for years, he would have this day, and Clancy's great
effort, to remember.
David approached his father, the iron-hard
bushman whose skill he had inherited, his father who

had almost killed himself to give his family financial
security. How much more could Andy have done
with dogs if only he had not chosen to work so hard?
Andrew could hardly believe what he had just witnessed.
Clancy had worked the greatest round of
three-sheep work he had ever seen. Like Anne, he was
so proud of his son that words failed him. His dogs
had been virtually unbeatable at local trials, but it was
the National that separated great dogs from the rest.
Clancy had now joined the band of legendary dogs
that had won the National, and the MacLeod name
would be enshrined in sheepdog history. Andy
thought of all these things as he reached out to clasp
his son's hand. What a man David was! He had given
Andy's life new meaning.
Now David was being thumped on the back by
Bruce McClymont, who had just seen something he
never expected to see. Everything else paled into insignificance
when compared with what David and
Clancy had just done. As David's eyes continued to
search the enthusiastic crowd of well-wishers, he saw
Laurence Singer and the film crew bustling their way
through the crowd, and then Angus and Jane Campbell
and, behind them, with her gorgeous hair
blowing across her face in the chilly wind and her
brown eyes shining with love, Catriona. Catriona,
who had loved him and waited for him all these years,
and who had defied her parents for him. And then
she was clinging to him, her arms around his neck
and her lips pressed against his cold cheek. Oblivious

to the people crowded about them, David and
Catriona were, momentarily, lost in a world of their
own. When they reluctantly drew part so David could
acknowledge the congratulations of fellow handlers
and others, their eyes were still locked on each other.
People were all around him. They were shaking
his hand and patting his dog. Clancy stood quietly
with his intense hypnotic eyes staring up at David.
'Jump, Clancy,' David commanded, and Clancy
leapt up into David's arms, causing another outbreak
of cheers and applause to erupt. David rubbed the
dog's head and ears and then put him down beside
him. Clancy soon seemed bored with proceedings
now that his job was done.
The presentation was made with David still in a
daze. A big old man, stooped by the years, came up
and shook his hand. David learned later that he had
shaken hands with the greatest handler of border
collies Victoria had ever seen. 'Young man, if I die
tomorrow, I will be happy for having seen you and
your dog work today. I once saw one dog like your
fellow and that was a long time ago. Don't let that
strain die out.'
The old man's words, like the words of so many
others that magical afternoon, were whirling around
in David's head as he stood with his prizes and talked
to the media.
And then Bruce made his play. He had reaped a profit
of over $45 000 from his kelpies the previous year, and
he reckoned that if he owned Clancy he could up that

figure significantly. But even more than the prospect of
the profit was McClymont's vision of becoming part of
the legend that would surround this day.
'David, would you take twenty thousand dollars
for Clancy?' he asked in a voice that could be heard
above the noise of the crowd.
David looked across at McClymont and shook his
head. 'I wouldn't sell Clancy for twice that figure,
Bruce. This dog is not for sale. I don't need the
money, and that's not why we keep the dogs. You
can have first crack at a good dog by Clancy, Bruce,
but I wouldn't part with him for anything in the
world.'
When everyone had had their say and all the
photographs had been taken, the afternoon was
almost done and it was becoming quite cold.
'I think this calls for a drink,' Andrew said. 'In
fact, it's too damned cold not to have a drink. What
do you say, Davie?'
'I reckon you're right there, Dad,' David replied.
So they went back to the caravan and cracked open
a bottle of whisky, which Anne had packed in anticipation
(she knew Andy wouldn't drink champagne).
Catriona had refrained from joining them just yet;
she knew this was an emotional time for the family
and, much as she felt close to the MacLeods, she
wanted to give them some space. David reached for
the beautiful sash that had been presented to him as
winner of the National Trial.
'This is for you, Dad,' he said.

'Get out of it! It's yours, Davie,' Andrew said.
David shook his head. 'They're your dogs, Dad.
All I did was work them. This is for all the years
you couldn't take your dogs to trials because you
were too busy paying off the place. I want you to
have it.'
'Nobody else could have done it but you, mate,'
Andrew said. 'I doubt that I could have. Nothing I
can say would be enough to tell you how proud and
how thankful I am of you and what you've done.'
'That's reward enough for me, Dad.'
A tap on the van's door interrupted their quiet
celebration. It was Bruce McClymont and, behind
him, the three Campbells. They were invited in and
Andrew dispensed more whisky.
David and Catriona made their way into a quiet
corner, desperate for a few minutes alone. They sat
on a bed and looked into each other's eyes, while
around them a friendly argument raged - both Bruce
and Angus wanted to take the MacLeods to dinner.
Anne solved the dispute in her usual practical
fashion by suggesting that if they absolutely had to
shout dinner, they should share the expense. With
this suggestion, the glasses were filled and clinked
again.
The conversation hardly registered with David and
Catriona. They had eyes and ears only for each other.
'So you did it,' Catriona said. 'I can hardly believe
it. You seem to have been telling me about this trial
for as long as I've known you.'

'Crikey, surely not that long?'
Catriona nodded. 'Those dogs were always the
most important things in your life. I was just a distraction
and a pest,' she said, laughing.
'Aw, Cat, a bloke has to put on a front. I didn't
want people thinking I was soft.'
'Well, now it's just you and me, David. I can't
believe we're almost there. And, David, I can't tell you
how pleased I am that Daddy has come to his senses.'
'Your father is a realist, Cat. He's also a bigger
man than I gave him credit for. Anyway, I'm as
pleased as you are - now you and your mother can
plan the wedding to your hearts' content.'
On the way to dinner, Anne stopped to ring Kate
and give her the great news. Kate was beside herself
with joy. She'd always had faith that David would do
great things. Now he had proved it.
At the restaurant, David held Catriona's hand
tightly under the dinner table. He felt her leg against
his calf, and he smiled with sheer delight. Now that
he had done what he had set out to do, he felt more
relaxed and somehow quite different. Now what mattered
most was the girl sitting beside him. Catriona
had never doubted that David was the right man for
her. She had never really complained about being
made to wait for him, and she had never even been
tempted by the dozens of young men who had doted
on her. David couldn't believe that before too long
he would finally marry this girl in a million and live
with her on High Peaks.

Presently Angus got to his feet and, with the waiter
pouring champagne, had his say. He spoke of the
years he had known the MacLeod family and of how
they had worked to own two properties, and now
owned four. He also spoke of Andrew's great ability
with dogs and horses and of how he had passed on
that same great talent to David.
'I would like to make a toast,' he said, 'to the best
trial dog I have ever seen, to the two best dog handlers
I have ever seen, and to the very best neighbours and
family-in-law a man could ask for.'
'Hear, hear,' Bruce roared. He was feeling wonderful
and wanted the night to last forever. He felt he
had played his own small role in today's miracle by
honouring the agreement he had made with David to
return Clancy's sire, Nap. After Angus had had his
say, it was Bruce's turn to get to his feet.
'My co-host has very eloquently given you a toast
which echoes my own thoughts. Unlike Angus here,
I haven't had the privilege of being a neighbour of
the MacLeod family, and, unlike Angus, I never saw
Andrew work a dog, but I want to say that it has
been a privilege to know and do business with the
MacLeods. This has been one of the greatest days of
my life. Now I know why the kelpie made such an
impact on Australia all those years ago.
'David, you and Clancy will leave Canberra
tomorrow, but what you did today will never be
forgotten by the sheepdog fraternity. Your feat will
pass into legend. If you never break in another kelpie,

your name and Clancy's name will be enshrined in
sheepdog lore. To you, David and Catriona, and to
Andrew and Anne, my thanks and very best wishes
for the future.'
When Bruce sat down, Anne leant over and kissed
him. 'Thank you, Bruce,' she said.
'Do you realise you're a living legend?' Catriona
whispered in David's ear.
'That may be the case, but I know what I would
rather be right now,' he whispered back.
'You'll just have to wait for that,' she said with a
glint in her eye.
Eventually the night had to end, so the MacLeods
and Bruce McClymont returned reluctantly to their
caravans and the Campbells to their motel.
The next morning, as they were packing to go
home, some of the handlers who had stayed the night
came across to say goodbye. There were enquiries
about pups and whether David would bring his dogs
to their trials. David's replies were noncommittal. He
told them it would be some time before he could trial
again.
With the dogs safely installed in the back of
David's ute they were almost ready to leave, but just
then Bruce emerged from his van.
David and the kelpie breeder walked across to the
now deserted arena. 'Will you come back here next
year?' McClymont asked.
David shook his head. 'I doubt it, Bruce. We've
got four places to look after now. We bought this last

one so we could breed our own replacement merino
ewes and perhaps use some of it to top off our
Queensland steers. I want to see how that works out.
It may be that we try and get hold of some more
country just to fatten steers. There's a lot of work in
running four places. No, Bruce, I don't think I will
ever come back here. And, anyway, there's no need.
I've done what I wanted to do. I could never top
Clancy's effort. Besides, I shall soon be married, and
when a bloke is lucky enough to have a girl like
Catriona, he can't neglect her. Look, if you ever feel
like coming up for a visit some day, do spend a few
days with us.'
'That would be terrific, thank you, David. You
don't imagine I'm going to forget you. I'm going to
want more dogs in future.'
'Okay, I'll see what we can do. Now, we'd better
hit the track if we want to be home tonight. Thanks
for the great evening last night, and don't forget to
come and see us. Bring Mona next time.'
They made their way back to the vans and Bruce
said goodbye to Andrew and Anne. Yet still he lingered
and seemed reluctant to leave.
'Goodbye, David,' he said at last, and with that
he drove away.
David turned and walked back to the picket fence
that surrounded the arena. His eyes took in the scene
so that it would live in his mind forever. He had once
thought that dogs and horses were all that mattered
in life. But now he had priorities and responsibilities

that counted for more than anything. He was well on
the way to becoming a very wealthy man, and it
had all been because of his father's industriousness
and unselfishness, Will White's benevolence and
Tim Sparkes's wonderful generosity. And he could
not forget his Aunt Kate, who had given them all
the financial support she could afford when they
needed it most, and who had helped them in so
many other ways. It would be irresponsible for him
to go on mailing dogs and drafting horses, as enjoyable
as those pastimes were, after what these people
had done for him. And of course there was
Catriona. Before long, he hoped they would have
children, and David's role in life now was to secure
their future as his own father had done for him.
No, he would never come back to Canberra. There
were other dreams on the horizon.
When he turned away from the ground, he found
his father standing behind him.
'I want you to know, mate, that I doubt very much
if I could have done what you did, even in my best
days. I didn't know Clancy was that good. I know
you did all this for me. Davie, if I drop dead tonight,
I want you to know that I never dreamed I would
have a son like you. Don't know what I did to deserve
it. Thank you.'
'Come on, Dad. We've got a lot on our plate, and
I've got a girl to marry.'
Kate and Jean were waiting for them at the gate
into the High Peaks house yard. Over the gate they

had made up a sign which read 'Congratulations,
David and Clancy'.
David picked up each woman in turn and kissed
her.
'I'll put the kettle on,' Kate said.
'And I'll see to the dogs,' David replied. 'They'll
be pleased to be back home after being cooped up for
a fair bit this last week.'
Kate watched David's tall figure stride down the
track. She loved him dearly and had missed him.
"Well, I must say I'm pleased to be home,' Anne
said. 'Canberra was nice for a break, but there's no
place like home.'
'Especially when there's a wedding just round the
corner,' Kate reminded her.
'We'll get no sense out of you three until that's
out of the way,' Andrew said.
'Andrew MacLeod, I'm sure I don't know how you ever got married. You've no romance in you at all,'
Kate flashed.
'I had enough to get me the best woman in these
parts, so stick that in your pipe and smoke it,' he shot
back at his sister-in-law.
'Hey, you two, no shadow-sparring,' Anne protested.
'First few minutes home and you're already at it.'
'Ah, it's just a bit of good-natured arguing. We do
agree on most things, you know,' Kate said.
'Agree on what, Kate?' David asked as he came
into the kitchen.


'That you should go out and bring in some wood
for the stove,' she replied.
'Nothing like a few chores to bring a man back to
earth,' David said. 'Yesterday a legend and today a
wood carter.' But he was smiling broadly as he spoke.






























Chapter Thirty-one





A couple of days before the wedding, David decided
to take a day off and have a ride into the hills. He
packed some lunch, added tea, sugar and condensed
milk, and rode off on his favourite mare - the one
he and Andy had brought back from Aberfeldy. She
was a dream to ride and draft on, although he didn't
ride her often, but she made him think of the lanky
Queenslander who had had so much faith in him. He
reckoned that if Tim had been looking down on the
National, he would have been mighty pleased with
the result.
Nap, as usual, was running behind him. Clancy
whined to be let off, but David knew that his pads
would never again stand up to a day in the hills.
He rode first to Yellow Rock, and let his mare
pick her way up the narrow track that led to its peak.
He dismounted and rested for several minutes at the
spot where Catriona and her grey pony had gone over

the ledge. He tried to remember how Cat had looked
that day. She had been crying a lot and the tears had
made little channels down her dust-streaked face. He
had been very frightened about jumping her pony off
the rubble heap, but if he had shown any hesitation
at all, his father would not have allowed him to make
the attempt. Yet the idea of Cat crying her heart out
at the thought of losing her pony had been too much
for him to bear. He supposed he had felt something
for Cat even then.
At the top of Yellow Rock he looked out across the
range and breathed in the sharp, clean air. He remembered
the time in his life when he first realised that he
loved this country, and knew he would never live anywhere
else. Some part of him would wither if he did.
He climbed back up on his horse and headed for
their boundary gate into Poitrel, making his way
along the ridge to Wallaby Rocks. Except for the
standing burnt trees, there was little to show that a
fire had passed over this country. The big storm and
further falls of rain had brought life back to the grass
and scrub in no time. The new fences were up, and
life was proceeding more or less as it always had.
On Wallaby Rocks he noted where Kate had
broken her leg and the rock over which he had sheltered
her. Now the shelter was gone, destroyed by the
fire. And the Missen boys were gone, too. Here Kate's
rescue party had camped for the night and he first
experienced the joy of having Catriona so close by,
yet agonisingly not close enough.

He dismounted, hitched his mare to a tree and
walked the last few yards to the mouth of the big
cave. There was a wallaby sitting on a rock just
outside the entrance, and on sighting him it vanished
in three or four swift bounds.
It did not take long to start a fire and boil the
billy, and he sat down, with Nap beside him, to eat
his lunch. Nap lay with his eyes on David's face,
waiting patiently for the pieces of meat sandwich he
knew would be forthcoming.
"I don't know what I did to be lucky enough to
own a dog like you, Nap,' he said aloud. Nap's agate
coloured eyes gleamed with a flash of light, just as
they usually did when he was being spoken to. 'I'd
give anything to know what you were thinking when
I sent you away with Bruce. Did you think I was the
biggest mongrel in the country? I'll never do it again,
I promise. I know you know where home is. You
really are a clever dog, old mate. Now, I have to go
away for a bit, but I'll be back before too long. Mum
will look after you, and Dad, too. And when I get
back, Cat will probably spoil you rotten. She's going
to learn how to work one of your pups.'
David knew that if anyone heard him talking to
his dog they would reckon the hills had finally got to
him, but if a man couldn't talk to his dog, especially
a dog who could understand everything as Nap did,
it was a poor show.
David looked around the cave and thought of the
day he had brought Cat here. It was the first time he

had experienced intense longing for her, and she had
known it. He had seen the response in her eyes.
He lost track of time as he sat in the cave with his
dog and thought about the past, and it was late afternoon
when he finally rode down the mountain and
came in sight of his new house. He had erected an
old-fashioned hitching rail under a kurrajong tree at
the back of the house, and he tied his mare to it
before going up the path to the new building. It
wasn't locked. Country people rarely locked their
houses. He walked from room to room sniffing the
smell of fresh paint and marvelling at the newness of
the interior. The carpets and curtains were in place
and there was new furniture in most rooms. He sat
down on the edge of the big double bed and tried to
imagine what it would be like living there with Cat.
It was almost too much to imagine that she would be
with him for the rest of their lives.
Nap was lying beside the mare when he came out
of the house. 'Time to feed you fellows,' he said, and
with Nap at his heels he walked up to the dog yards,
grinning from ear to ear. It had been the kind of day
he wanted - needed - before going away to be married.

The wedding turned out to be everything Catriona
had dreamed of. It was held in late June, and, true
to her Scottish lineage and Presbyterian background,
Catriona chose St James's in Sydney as the venue. She
was piped out of the church by a piper wearing the
tartan of Clan Campbell.

When David had turned to watch Catriona come
down the aisle on her father's arm, he saw tears on
his mother's face, and then he saw Catriona and his heart began to pound. She looked breathtakingly
beautiful. Her gown was made of brocaded satin
encrusted with the palest opalescent design. It was
made in a traditional style - tight at the waist, with
a full, voluminous skirt, long pointed sleeves and a
long train. She carried a bouquet of lily-of-the-valley
and wore her mother's milk opal brooch. Her headpiece
was made of the same brocaded satin as her
dress and featured a fingertip veil. Her four bridesmaids
wore gowns of pale-aqua brocaded satin cut in
much the same style as Catriona's Deb gown, and
they carried bouquets of baby pink roses.
All the words of the service prior to David's 'I do'
passed in a blur. He just could not concentrate while
watching Catriona. He had liked, then loved her for
years, but he had never imagined it would come to
this. They had overcome so many obstacles, but it seemed that fate had been on their side. Now he knew
that he really loved her, nothing would stand in their
way.
Catriona gave a little sigh as she spoke the words
'I do'. For her, the long wait was over. She had always
wanted David MacLeod. Always. Her mind flashed
back to the day he had saved both her and her pony,
and damaged his shoulder in the process. She remembered
with fearful clarity how he had belted that awful
Masters boy, and later, years later, had rescued her

the night of her debut. Thinking back, she realised
David had never looked at another girl, and she was
sure he never would. He was hers now and they
would be together as long as they lived.
When it was time for David and Catriona to leave
there were still tears in Anne's eyes, and although
Kate was trying to be brave, eventually she cried, too.
David threw up his hands in despair and then
wrapped them both in bear hugs.
I promise to look after him,' Catriona whispered
in Anne's ear as the gathering farewelled them.
'I know you will, Catriona, and I couldn't be
happier,' Anne said.
'Thank you. You have always been my ally and
confidante,' Catriona said, kissing her fondly.
Catriona was radiant as she and David left the
reception. She settled in her seat and then turned and
looked behind her.
'What are you doing?' David asked.
'I'm just checking to make sure you haven't
sneaked Nap or Clancy into the back.'
'I can assure you that I haven't given my dogs a
thought all day, nor will I for the next three weeks.
There are other things in the world, you know.'
Catriona felt her heart race. These were going to
be the best three weeks of her life.

It turned out to be an idyllic honeymoon, and even
several inches of rain did not dampen their spirits and
happiness. It was the first real holiday that David had

ever had, and Catriona was determined that he
would enjoy it. They stayed for two weeks at the
Yeppoon house, eating enormous candlelit dinners
and sleeping in much later than they had ever done.
From Yeppoon they drove up to Aberfeldy for a few
days, where they spent most of their time riding
over the property. As wonderful as it all was,
Catriona sensed that three weeks away was long
enough for David. He felt the pull of the hills and
wanted to go home.
When they returned, Anne could tell by the stars
in Catriona's eyes that they were extremely happy and
that the honeymoon had been everything they had
hoped for, and more.
Anne watched them as they walked hand in hand
from the car to embrace her, and the pain in her heart
was unbearable. How could she spoil their happiness?
But David had to know. The news could not be
delayed.
David sensed immediately that his mother was
holding something back.
'What is it, Mum? Is something wrong?'
'It's Andy, dear,' she said. 'He's gone.'
'Gone? What do you mean "gone"?' he asked
urgently.
'Andy died last night, David. He just said he was
tired and wanted to go to bed early. He died peacefully
in his sleep.'
'Oh, Lord,' he cried in a stricken voice. 'Mum,'
he sobbed and fell on her.

All the joy of the past few weeks and his homecoming
dissolved in an instant. High Peaks could
never be the same without his father.
'Shhh, David. He didn't have any pain and he was
so very happy for you and Catriona,' Anne said. She
had dreaded this moment because she knew how
much her son loved and respected his father. They
had been almost inseparable from the moment David
could crawl.
'I wasn't here, Mum. I should have been with him.
Should have been with you.'
'Don't be silly, darling. You couldn't be in two
places at once. Try not to take it so hard. We need
to find strength in each other right now. Andy was
so very proud of you. We talked about you all the
while you were away. He said that the day you won
the National was the proudest day of his life. It
was the fulfilment of everything he could have hoped
for with his dogs. To have a son cast virtually in
his own image and to do what you did made his
life perfect.'
'And having a loving wife as wonderful as you.'
'It's all up to us now, though it has been for some
time, hasn't it?'
'Dad should have lived years longer. He wasn't
old, Mum. Just fifty-six,' David said.
'I know, but he almost died when he had that first
stroke.'
Anne's eyes met Catriona's and she found sympathy
there. But what could she or anyone else say

that would soften this blow to their lives? Andy had
been such an inspiration for his son.
'Where's Kate?' David asked.
'She's making the necessary arrangements. I
wanted to be here when you arrived.'
He nodded and then sat down on the top step
with his head in his hands.
'He's being buried on the hill, isn't he?' David
asked at last.
'Yes, of course. That is what he asked for, to be
buried where we both shall be.'
'Then he will never really die. Not while we have
this place and his dogs, and by God I shall have both
while there is breath in my body.'
'That's what he wanted, David,' Anne said.
'And what do you want, Mum?' he asked.
'To see my days out on this place that holds the
happiest memories of my life. To see my grandchildren
grow up here.'
'At least we've got each other,' David replied, and
then asked, 'When is it?'
Anne knew just what he was referring to. 'The day
after tomorrow,' she said.
'There are people who need to be told,' David
said. 'Bruce McClymont and Will White, to name
just a few. And unless you have other ideas, I'd like
to give the eulogy at the church.'
'Whatever you want, David,' Anne said.
Later, much later, David realised how selfish he
had been in not recognising his mother's suffering.

She had done her crying and then marshalled all her
remarkable strength and spirit in readiness for his
return. Having to give him the news of his father's
passing must have been about the toughest task Anne
had ever had to do. He had thought only of his
sadness at losing his father, without really comprehending
that his mother had lost her companion of
half a lifetime.
Two days later David stood up before the congregation
to deliver the following words:
'Those of you who are here today and who knew
my father would remember him as a gun shearer,
horsebreaker and campdrafter, sheepdog breeder and
triallist, and a successful grazier. My father was all of
those things and much more. Some people have said
that Dad was a hard man, but he was also the fairest
man I have ever known. If he thought you were worth
helping, he would do whatever he possibly could.
When he took over the management of High Peaks
it was heavily in debt. Dad cleared this debt by sheer
hard work, and then some.
'My father was a gifted man in many ways. He
was a wonderful whipmaker and could craft anything
in leather. But what made Dad really stand out was
his natural ability in handling dogs and horses. In the
hundred or so years since the kelpie came into being,
we have had a handful of people with the ability to
both breed and handle the working kelpie. These men
really understood what the breed was all about. My
father belonged to this small group. His knowledge

of sheepdogs and his ability to handle them transcended
ordinary standards.
'I could not have done what I did on my own. It
was my father who taught me everything I know.
Everything I am, so far as sheepdogs are concerned,
I owe to him. History and legend may largely remember
me and my dog Clancy, but I know better.
'But what was especially great about my father was
that he was my best mate. He was my mate from the
first day I could follow him, and from the first time
I could sit on a pony that he led. Dad was there the
day I won at Canberra, and his final piece of advice
probably made the difference between me winning
and losing that great trial.
'In a little while my father will be buried alongside
his parents on the hill above our home, so for
me his spirit will never die. I speak now for both
my mother and myself. My father was fortunate to
have a wife like my mother who was there for him
every day of her life. Life for her will never be the
same without her Andy, but I don't doubt that her
incredible strength and wonderful spirit will carry
her through. If Dad were here, he would want me
to say that for him there was only ever one woman
in his life, and that was my mother. I had the two
best parents a boy could wish for. For Mum and
me, Dad will never be far away. We will carry our
love for him in our hearts forever. Every time I drink
tea with my mother I shall see my father sitting in
his chair, and every time I work a dog or ride a

horse I shall remember Dad's words of advice.'
Here David put his hand in the pocket of his coat
and brought out a sash of rolled silk.
'This is the sash that I won with Clancy at the
National. It is the most precious award in our possession.
For me, because I wanted so very much to
win it for Dad. I wanted him to have this sash but he wouldn't accept it. But, Dad, if you can hear me
now, I want you to know how much I appreciate
what you meant to me and what you did for me.
This is my final thank you.'
David moved across to where the coffin lay and
spread the silk sash across it. He looked into his
mother's tear-streaked face and nodded. Catriona,
Kate and Jean were crying, and Bruce McClymont,
who had dropped everything to come to the funeral,
was crying, too. Even Angus Campbell was close to
tears. Sitting behind Angus and his family were Will
White and his sister, Gertie. Kate had rung Gertie
with the tragic news and said that they would understand
if Will couldn't make the funeral at his age.
Gertie had said Will would attend if it killed him. Will, David could see, was very upset.
Finally David took his place between his mother
and his wife and felt the pressure of their hands on
his arms. 'Thank you, David. That was lovely,' Anne
whispered.
So Andrew MacLeod was taken to the grave that
had been prepared on the hill above High Peaks. It
was a clear, sunny winter's day and a gentle breeze

was faintly stirring the leaves of the big kurrajong and
box trees above the gathering by the graveside. All
that remained of Andrew was lowered into the
ground. Anne's roses from the garden close by and
David's sash crowned the coffin. All other flowers
were placed on an adjacent mound of earth. Andrew
MacLeod was at rest.
By midafternoon everyone but Bruce had left. He
and David walked down to the dog kennels and sat
on the big hollow log kennels. 'I'll be heading off
now,' Bruce said.
'You sure? You'd be most welcome to stay the
night,' David said.
'I know that. I think it should be just family
tonight,' Bruce said.
'Well, thank you for coming. It's a long trip and
we appreciate it.'
'I'm just sorry it had to be for a funeral. You will
miss him.'
'More than anyone will ever know.'
'You've won yourself a pretty decent mate in
Catriona.'
'Yes, I've been lucky in many ways. I am doing
what I most want to do, surrounded by land and
people I love. I couldn't imagine being anywhere else.'
'You will keep the dogs going, won't you?'
'Of course I will. I may not trial again, except
locally, because I have a big job in front of me.
Nothing will change with the dogs. I'll keep them
going in the hope that there will be another Andrew

MacLeod who has the gift of working sheepdogs.'
'That's good news. Not that I really thought you
would let them go. I'd better push off now. I can get
a fair way down the track tonight. I'll be back when
you have those dogs ready for me.'
David stood with his wife and mother and
watched McClymont's vehicle disappear around the
bend of the road.
'Well, that's that,' Anne said at last. 'I must say
it's been quite a day. Well, life must go on. There are
chooks to feed and eggs to collect, and '
'The cow to get in for Greg and dogs to feed,'
David said.
'And Tess's pups due next week,' Catriona added.
'Go and feed your dogs, David,' Anne said. Her
eyes were clear now and he knew his mother would
be all right.
So he went down to the dog yard and peered
inside. There was Nap, who, as usual, looked him
straight in the eye and seemed to anticipate what he
was thinking; and there was Clancy with his injured
front foot still booted; and there was Clancy's mother,
the brilliant Belle; and Belle's old mother, now the
matriarch of the stud; and Tess, with her distended
belly full of pups for which there had been enquiries
from all over the country; and King II, named after
the dog who had been his father's last top male dog
after Ben; and the other bitches of the strain his father
had maintained and made famous.
David cast his eye over the lot of them. In his view

there were no dogs better than these and none would
ever take their place. 'Come on, you lot. Let's see you
run off some steam down the paddock.'
Anne and Catriona watched his tall figure walk
down the track towards the creek. The dogs streamed
past him in their enthusiasm to run, all save Clancy
and Belle's old mother, who followed sedately at
David's heels.
'Thank God for that son of yours,' Catriona said.
'Thank you for waiting for him. I hope you have
another little Andrew MacLeod before too long,'
Anne said.
'There will only ever be one Andrew MacLeod,'
Catriona said. 'And only one David MacLeod.'