Chapter 3

Lamorbey Station seemed far away when Richard pulled onto campus early on Monday. He’d spent Friday night in his Jeep, near Tambo, an hour past Blackall. He’d lunched and dined out of the esky. The next night he’d spent in a motel in Roma, where he’d enjoyed a shower. Last night he stayed at the Royal, an older hotel in Gatton, and so was well-rested.

He was also in a good mood. He’d opened the “pay envelope” and discovered ten five pound notes – far more than he’d expected for just under three months’ work. He’d also read the testimonial letter, which was quite laudatory. So, he was going to see the Registrar, hoping to be able to inscribe early and to nobble one of the two dozen singles in the residences. (Not really ‘nobble,’ as Richard wasn’t doing anything illegal, merely a week or ten days early. Perhaps ‘snatch’ would be better.)

He achieved the first chore, registration and payment of fees for the coming year, with ease – there was no queue, so the clerk was helpful. As a consequence, so was the second – the clerk at “Housing,” was idly working on a crossword. Richard was back at the Royal by eleven. He then phoned Southport.

“Surprise, mum!” he began. “I’m in Gatton. I’ve registered, and am free for ten days. Would you like a visit?”

Sybil was delighted.

“I probably won’t be here, though. I’ve got a meeting a St. Hilda’s. Cat’ll be here. I’ll certainly be back between four and five, as will your dad.”

“OK. I’ll check out and pay up and have a bite of lunch. I should be on my way by one, so I should be seeing Cat by mid afternoon.”

Richard was greeted with “God, you’re brown.”

“Working outdoors does that.”

“And you look real good!”

“Thank you, I note that your hair’s shorter but you’re bigger up top.”

“You’re my brother; you’re not supposed to look. Can I help you unpack?”

“Not much to unpack. Just work clothes. Anyhow, when I stop looking I’ll be dead.”

“No dress stuff? What if we go out?”

“I hope we will. But I want to shop, anyway. Wanna come with me tomorrow?”

“Of course. Can we ride in that thing?”

“My luxury limo? I’ll be your proud chauffeur.”

Richard put all his clothes (except what he was wearing) into the washer and turned it on. Cat made them tea and they chatted while awaiting their parents.

“What are you going to study?” he asked.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“How to nab a husband.”

“That’s a joke.”

“No. I’m going to take courses in art and literature. I know I’ve no musical talent. But I want to be up on the arts. And I want to travel. U. of Q. has a lot of foreign students, Yanks, Brits, other Europeans. One of them will appeal to me.”

“Do mum and dad know about this?”

“Are you bonkers? No. I’m their sweet girl who’ll be going to the University.”

Andy and Sybil were interested in Richard’s life at the College, but yet more in his experiences at Lamorbey. Richard omitted Janey. The five days in Southport passed quickly and Richard headed back to Gatton with his old clothes, his new clothes, and a carton of books. He had also received a tenner from each of his parents.

Back at the College, Richard learned that Ferd wasn’t the only drop-out: Alix and Mabel were among the missing. Sal was in the same double she’d been in. Barb, however, was in a single in the same building. They spent more than one night in the same bed. “This is for pleasure, not serious,” Barb said. “No problem,” Richard responded. Barb didn’t care which of them was on top, and she loved oral attention to her nipples and vulva; but she wasn’t interested in anything anal. Richard was quite happy and stocked several dozen condoms.

Richard concentrated on the management aspects of a station running beef cattle: feed, water, housing, corrals, pens, pests; and other aspects of droving: accounting, pricing, cash flow; transport – lorry and rail and personnel, salaried and daily hands, taxation. There were enough topics to make his head swim. But he had a vision. Barb asked why the business lectures, “if I know how to run a business I won’t go broke making mistakes running my own business,” he responded.

He got a note from Ferd, asking whether he wanted to return to Lamorbey, but he put off responding. He was thinking of trying to work for a few months at a feed lot near Brisbane, if only to see how that sort of operation worked.

But his parents came to visit during the school holiday, driving to Brisbane so that they could bring Cat. They spent four nights in Gatton. And while he was glad to see them, by the time they departed, Richard was glad to see them depart. Cat seemed to enjoy her first year and reported (cryptically) that she was “making progress.” She’d be 18 in a few months; he’d be 20.

One day in November, Richard received a note from his lecturer in Agricultural Economics:

There’s a small station north of Kandimulla, bounding V Gate. Southwest of Mitchell. About 35000 acres. The description reads:

21 inch rainfall
Undulating red soils originally timbered with Box, Sandalwood, Brigalow [Acacia], Mulga [a different Acacia], Ironbark [Eucalyptus] with some areas of heaver clay to chocolate loam soils.
65% of the property is certified on a PMAV.
Sub artesian bore [water that rises naturally in a well to a height appreciably above that of the surrounding water table but does not flow out of the well] equipped with wind-pump to a new storage reservoir and tanks.
Reticulation system from the bore comprising pump and pipe to tanks and troughs.
6 main paddocks and 10 holding paddocks.

Richard looked him up in the morning.

“Have you any idea how much?”

“It doesn’t mention a house or out-buildings. It doesn’t say that it’s a freehold, so I assume it’s a lease with what’s listed. If it’s a lease with over 50 years to go, 5p to 10p per acre. If it’s a short-term lease, half of that.”

“So under £200.”

“But there’ll be other expenses. You realize that 35000 acres would be a square about 11 kilometers on a side. So, 45 klicks of fencing. The last time I looked, barbed wire ran about 30 pounds per klick. Plus posts plus staples. And you’ll need stock and a place to live.”

“Are you trying to deter me?”

“Not at all. Trying to be realistic.”

“Mitchell’s just west of Roma, right?”

“Yes about 500 kilometers on the Warrego.”

“I’ll drive out there tomorrow to look. Thanks for the tip.”

“I’m here to help the students.”

Richard left the College quite early, stopped for petrol and was in Mitchell (pop. 1100) before noon. West of Mitchell, the Warrego made a slight dogleg to the right, then back to the left. There was a crossing marked “Womalilla” to the south and “Dunedin” to the north. Richard saw a culvert under the highway and then some fencing parallel to it. Richard pulled onto the shoulder and looked back. A bit beyond the culvert he could see some fencing normal to the line where he stood. That must be the northeastern corner of the station. He got back into the Jeep and rolled slowly along the shoulder. Within a few minutes he was at an unlocked nine-wire gate. He could see tracks on the far side, so he opened it, moved the Jeep and then re-closed it. He then changed from shoes into his workboots and began to walk.