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chapter 3
Craig
Pearce Station was nothing like I’d imagined when we’d taken the jobs. We knew where it was, of course. We’d had the map open in front of us when Scottie, the manager, had given us the address. He’d warned us that it wasn’t like anywhere we’d been before. Remote, harsh, and unforgiving. But I hadn’t truly absorbed his words until about the three-quarter mark of our trip. We’d driven the twelve hours north-west of Goondiwindi. I’d mistakenly thought Goondiwindi was an outback town. I was so wrong. It was country, sure, but it was easily accessible via paved roads. It was absolutely bustling compared to so many of the progressively smaller townships we’d travelled through on the way to the property.
By the time we’d reached the road bordering Pearce Station, we hadn’t seen another car or truck in hours. It was like a ghost town compared to the main drag in Goondiwindi, and yet everywhere we looked, life was flourishing. I was captivated by the scenery—the colours, the big skies, and vivaciousness of the red. It changed by the hour, despite the endlessly flat plains.
The kilometres had bled into each other, time seemingly interminable as our tyres ate up the road. He was right—it was nothing like I’d ever experienced before. Dirt roads passed for highways and the wire fences strung between sturdy timber posts were the only other signs of occupation.
Of everything though, it was the sky that had captured my attention so completely. We’d set out before dawn, getting a jump start on the day. We wanted to do the trip in one hit and with both of us driving, it wouldn’t be impossible, just exhausting. As the sun crested the horizon for the first time that morning, we’d watched the glowing fiery ball grow and fill the sky with a gentle warmth. It wasn’t hot, but it was bright, as if we’d been in a darkened room and suddenly stepped outside to brilliant sunshine. As the morning progressed, the sky had steadily grown from the blackest of night just before the dawn to greys, pinks, mauve, and finally the most pristine royal blue that I’d ever laid eyes on.
It was a wonderland for the senses.
The red of the dirt was so deep, so intense. Combined with the equally brilliant blue, it created the richest of contrasts. There was green everywhere too, a sprinkling of lush new vegetation in the form of soft grasses that rippled in the light breezes flowing over the plains. Resplendent in its sheer scale and magnificence.
“It’s beautiful after the rains, isn’t it?” Sam spoke reverently, wanderlust in his eyes. “Think you can handle living out here?”
“Do you?” I side-eyed him as I concentrated on navigating down the corrugated dirt road wishing I could keep looking at him. His smile set something alight in me, and I loved watching it break across his face. The bumps had everything vibrating and the old ute pulled to the side wanting to slide right off the road.
“I dunno.” He was quiet, his nerves on full display. I reached out, needing to touch him and gripped the back of his neck gently, the skin at his nape soft under my callous-roughened hands. His short hair tickled my fingers and I shot him a small smile when he responded. “But I’d like to try. The bloke we spoke to seemed like a decent fella and I liked that he’s near our age.”
“He did seem like a good bloke, and from what that old codger in the pub said, their family knows what they’re doing. I’m looking forward to meeting his ma.” The bloke from the pub wasn’t overly complimentary of the station’s former manager but went on and on about how Scottie had the goods that were needed. I’d rolled my eyes and let him rant about how women shouldn’t be running stations; he was a lost cause. As far as I was concerned, anyone who could keep a station afloat, man or woman, had my respect. It wasn’t an easy life.
And that was before I’d seen how remote Pearce Station was.
“That’s it.” Sam pointed up at the timber sign swinging from an L-shaped post in the distance. As we got closer, I saw the rusted drum sitting sideways on the fence post just off the road, noticing the slit cut in it as I turned the corner. The makeshift letterbox, the greyed timber of the weathered sign, and the long tufts of yellowed grass growing around its base, against the rich red dirt carpeting the ground created the most Aussie of pictures around. The bright green shoots of new growth grass seemed almost out of place there.
I sucked in a breath and eased the battered ute over the cattle grate so I didn’t fishtail the car. Anticipation bubbled in my veins, excitement warring with nerves. I’d never experienced it before. This felt big. Momentous somehow. It was so much more than just arriving after a long journey.
I looked across at Sam and the wonder in his eyes as he ducked to look through the windscreen had me smiling at him. “There’s an eagle up there that’s gotta be the size of the ute. It’s huge.” He looked out, wide-eyed before dragging his gaze away and smiling so genuinely that his whole face lit up.
Moving onto new stations was something that we’d done a hundred times before, but I really wanted to get this right. To fit in and find our place in the universe. The desire to stay at Pearce Station seized control and I hadn’t even seen the place. I was tired of moving, but it was more than that too. Part of it was desperation—to help my best mate find his home again—and part of it was the yearning to make something for myself too.
Sam had been rudderless for years. Truth be told, I had too. We’d struck out, travelling from place to place as we were needed. I’d kept a promise I’d made as a teenager, and now I hoped to be able to fulfill it here. Had we found our safe harbour? Our deep water port? Ironic that we might have discovered our haven in one of the driest parts of Australia.
I pulled the ute up to the homestead and stepped out to stretch my legs in the cooling late-afternoon sunshine. The air was fresh and crisp, a cool breeze floating around me. With one foot still in the ute, a sense of calm washed over me and settled in my gut, as if the very land itself was welcoming me, wrapping me in its arms. A holler sounded and I looked around to see who it was, but all I saw around me was history and family.
A legacy.
A few of the buildings looked to be at least a hundred years old. The most recent addition was obviously the house itself. Painted white with a corrugated iron roof and set apart from the other buildings, it was big but understated. No frills. There were no finials or timber fretwork decorating the gables or the underside of the awning. There was no fancy balustrade encircling the veranda either. But it was beautiful. Raised off the ground on stilts, the wide veranda wrapped around at least two sides of the two-storey house. Instead of its height being imposing in the wide flat landscape, it was inviting. Homely. Rocking chairs and hollow bamboo wind chimes decorated the space, and the smells of fresh baked goods permeated the air.
There was a much smaller home off to the side that needed some TLC. It was getting it though; I could see the renovations in process. Building materials were stacked up alongside it, parts of the classic post and rail balustrade along the veranda unpainted. Across the other side of the driveway, the veggie patch dwarfed both the houses combined. Fruit trees and vines grew along trellises and one raised garden bed after another were all full of growth. Black piping ran like a snake above the beds, suspended from timber posts. It was a watering system fed by the water tank that stood as tall as a building next to it. Two sheds, one probably used as storage and the other a barn for the horses that were grazing in the paddock next to it, were built next to a series of smaller buildings. Each was the size of a large shipping container with a lean-to roof and brightly painted doors in cheerful colours. They were likely the workers cottages, one of which Sam and I would be calling home if things worked out here. Beyond the buildings, the fences converged. Loading yards and paddocks filled with red dirt had me itching to explore. To get on a horse again and ride off into the sunset to experience everything that this fascinating land had to offer.
There was definitely something magical about Pearce Station, and I’d already fallen for its charm.
“G’day, fellas,” a friendly voice called as they sauntered over to us with a natural swagger that came from years of experience. He was older than us, probably our parents’ age. “The name’s Jono. I’m the lead stockman here.”
I shook his hand. “Craig Williams, and this”—I motioned to Sam— “is Sam Hayes. Good to be here.”
Sam walked around the ute and shook Jono’s hand as well, the two of them trading pleasantries as Jono motioned to the house. “Scottie or I will take you on a tour and introduce you to the others after you’ve had a cuppa. Ma’s got some scones fresh out of the oven. Come on inside.”
A woman, who had to have been in her sixties but acted like she was half that age, met us halfway, shaking our hands with a firm grip and insisted we call her Nan. She was the oldest generation of Pearce ladies living out here, long retired. I desperately wanted to meet her daughter—apparently, she was known as Ma around the place—but I knew within a moment of meeting Nan that she was the cool grandparent I wished I had around growing up.
Another lady, this one carrying a tray loaded with afternoon tea, managed to slip out the screen door without it slamming behind her. “Welcome to Pearce Station, boys,” she called as she set down her load on the coffee table under the veranda. She made her way over to us and I knew she was Ma. I was a little star-struck and it showed. I stuttered my introduction and my face was aflame when Sam chuckled and slapped me on the back.
“Thanks for the opportunity to be here, Mrs Pearce,” Sam added after we’d introduced ourselves and ascended the steps to the veranda.
“It’s our pleasure, but none of this missus or mister here. Scottie’ll get a big head if you call him Mr Pearce and God knows what Ally will do if you try to use “miss” on her. I’m either Ma or Lynn. You’ve met Nan, or if you’d prefer, Karen.” Lynn fussed with the cups and saucers, setting them out. “Tea, or would you like a cold drink?”
