I'm worried; we're all worried. When will it rain? I've never experienced drought like this before although some of the old hands tell tales of years past when the cattle were dying and the landscape littered with their whitened bones. I don't want to see that happen on my watch. John had three huge barns built in which we store hay, and I have added another two, but I realise that it's only sufficient to feed our breeding stock for perhaps a year. The decision has to be made soon – should we sell as many cattle as possible before the price goes through the floor? I think all we property owners are watching each other, and once one makes the decision to sell then others will quickly follow. I called in Jack for a 'council of war' today and the conversation went something like this:

“Well Boss, the way I see it, it's a gamble. You could sell and then it rains next week, but the way it's looking I think that's unlikely. The final decision's up to you of course.”

“I know that Jack, but I value your advice,” I replied.

“Then there's the stock-men,” he went on,”Without cattle what are they going to do?”

“I don't really want to lose them. We've got a good team here and I'd like them to stay together. Perhaps we can put them to work mending fences and other maintenance work. What do you think?”

Jack nodded. “There's enough to keep them busy for a month or two at least.”

“Well what I suggest is that after that, you give those who don't want to hang around, the option to take up work elsewhere if they can find it, but tell them there's a place here for them once the rains come and we restock.”

“Thanks Boss,” he replied, “I'm sure they'll appreciate that.”

Another week has passed and I can't put off my decision much longer. I've been keeping an eye on the weather forecast. There's a tropical low developing at the Top End and there's a chance we may get some rain if it travels far enough south. I called in Jack for another discussion and we decided to hold off for a bit longer, but if nothing comes of this, then I have to sell down the stock.

We were just finishing off our discussion when the phone rang. It was Reg Simmons who owns an adjoining property to the north east.

“Hi Lesley, I'm sorry to bother you with this but I've got a young chap here working as a stockman – a friend of the family, and he put down some feed far too close to the boundary. Some of your cattle broke down the fence to get at it. I'm sending some of my lads up there, but there's about fifty yards of fencing gone down, so do you think you could spare some hands to help out?”

“I'm sorry about that Reg.”

“Not your fault – the young fellow's still wet behind the ears. I gave him a right bollocking and he won't do that again in a hurry.”

I checked the map co-ordinates with Reg and hung up. Jack was listening intently, aware that something was amiss. When I told him, he immediately volunteered to head up there with a few of the men, taking the truck with enough posts and wire for one hundred yards or so to be on the safe side. I agreed and he left to organise it.

Ten minutes later, Jack was on the phone. Young Jack was home on school holidays and he was begging to be allowed to go along.

“It's alright with me if it's ok with you and Mary,” I replied, “I'm sure he won't come to any harm with you to keep an eye on him.”

Within the hour the truck was loaded and ready to go. Mary and I went down to see them off. She had insisted that Jack junior ride in the cabin, so two of the men rode in the back with the materials which were well secured against moving. I could tell that Mary seemed worried so I put my arm around her to reassure her.

“I know I'm being silly,” she said,” young Jack's almost a man now, and Jack's there to look after him.”

“It's an adventure for him,” I replied. For some strange reason I remembered an old sepia-toned photograph in a frame in Mary's house. It was Jacks great-uncle Don in uniform just before he set off on his 'great adventure' in nineteen fifteen, an adventure from which he never returned. He couldn't have been more than twenty at the time, and his resemblance to Jack junior was striking. I shivered involuntarily, and it was Mary's turn to look at me.

“Are you alright Lesley?”

“Sure,” I replied “maybe I'm coming down with a cold.”

The thunder awoke me about three a.m., and then I heard the blessed sound of rain drumming on the roof. Maybe, just maybe our luck has changed. I lay awake listening to it for about an hour before the sound lulled me off to sleep again. I wondered if it was raining where the men were, up at the broken fence. Perhaps they were all crammed into the cabin of the truck as I didn't think they'd taken a tent with them.

It was ten o'clock the next morning and I was in my office when the radio crackled into life.

“Jack to base, Jack to base, come in please, over.” Even through the static I could sense the urgency in his voice.

“Base to Jack, it's Lesley here, what's happened?”

“It's young Jack, Boss. We were rounding up some of the cattle when one of them charged him. He's got a broken arm and was knocked cold for a few minutes.”

I hurriedly reached for the first aid book on the shelf above the radio to check what it said about concussion.

“Ok Jack, is he conscious now?”

“Yes Boss.”

"Alright, keep him still and lying down. It sounds like concussion to me and he needs a doctor for that as well as his broken arm. Has the bone broken through the skin?”

“No it hasn't.”

“That's good. Get some bandages from the first aid box and use them with some sticks to immobilize his arm. I'm going to call the Flying Doctor Service right away. What's the ground situation out there – can they land a plane or will we have to organise a helicopter?”

“We had a lot of rain last night and had to cram into the truck cabin. The only clear area nearby is the creek-bed and there's water in it now. I think a chopper is the way to go,” Jack replied.

I could tell from the sound of his voice that he seemed a bit relieved now that things were getting in motion to get young Jack treated.

I immediately rang the Royal Flying Doctor Service at their Charleville base which is closest to us, and got through to a very efficient young woman called Erin. She took down the details including the map co-ordinates and put me through to one of their medical staff Dr Helen Holmes. She asked to speak to Jack to get the latest on young Jack's condition and I patched her through. In the meantime I was thinking about the best way to evacuate young Jack. RFDS only operates fixed wing aircraft because of the long distances involved in the outback, but I know a guy in Heyward's Crossing who has a six seater helicopter, so I crossed my fingers and rang him. I was in luck as he answered the phone.

“Hi Mitch, I'm wondering if your chopper is free at the moment. We need to airlift out the son of my head stock-man who's broken an arm and has concussion.”

“Sure Lesley, I had another job, but that can wait.”

That's one of the many things I love about living in the outback; everyone is so ready to help out in an emergency. I explained to Mitch the situation, and by then Doctor Holmes had finished speaking to Jack, so the arrangement was that she would fly out to our landing strip at the Station and Mitch would be waiting with his helicopter to fly her to where Jack was waiting; they would pick him up and return here, transfer him to the plane and fly him to Charleville Hospital. I explained that to Jack on the radio and told him I would go over and tell Mary.

As I reached the cottage the door opened and Mary was standing there. Before she had time to speak I hurriedly said “Young Jack's had an accident, Mary, but he's going to be alright.”

I thought for a moment she was going to faint so I hurried forward and put my arms around her, and quickly explained what had happened and the arrangements I'd made to evacuate young Jack. Mary is a strong woman but at that moment she burst into tears, so I held her until she composed herself.

“Come up to the homestead,” I said “and you can speak to Jack on the radio.”

We walked up to my office and I called Jack up and then left the two of them to have a private conversation. As I closed the door I heard Mary say “It's not your fault.”

When she came out into the kitchen I had a strong cup of tea ready for her. I'm a great believer in the restorative powers of a 'cuppa', and we discussed what would be done. I suggested that Mary pack some clothes for herself and the girls so that they could go to Charleville too.

“They may be able to take you on their plane, but if not, I'll fly you there myself,” I said.

The evacuation went like clockwork. Dr Holmes is a charming young woman and acted as though this was nothing unusual, and I suppose for her it wasn't. Her pilot radioed an ETA and Mitch was ready and waiting when the plane landed. They were back with young Jack in about an hour, and he was looking much better and wondering why all the fuss and why he had to go to hospital. There was room in the plane for Mary and the girls, so that saved me a trip, not that I minded. Jack senior had decided, obviously after consulting his wife, that since there was nothing else he could do and young Jack was now in good hands, he should stay to complete the fence repairs and then I would fly him to Charleville in a few day's time.

Three days have passed since young Jack's evacuation to Charleville. Mary has been in touch each day and after I've had a brief conversation with her confirming that he is doing well, I've then patched her through to Jack senior to give him an update. Now Jack and the other men are back, having rounded up our cattle and repaired the fence. I've also been in touch with Mitch asking how much I owe for the hire of the helicopter. He's a great guy – he absolutely refused to charge me for hire of the chopper but after much arguing agreed that I could compensate him for the fuel used.

Jack was so effusive in his thanks that it made me feel uncomfortable.

“You're all part of the family Jack. It's Mitch and the RFDS you should thank, I only organised things. Now how about you get some things packed and I'll fly you to Charleville.”

“OK Boss. Oh, by the way, Mary needs a few more things to wear for herself and the girls. Do you mind sorting them out for me?”

“Oh, OK Jack,” I replied.

I went over to the cottage with him. I felt slightly uncomfortable going through Mary and the girl's clothes, but Jack obviously thought I'd have more idea of what they would need than he did. I filled a suitcase with what I felt would be appropriate, and then we headed to the aircraft and were soon in the air and heading east.

When we reached Charleville, we took a taxi to the hospital. Mary and the girls were there to meet us, and we had a word with young Jack who was already looking a lot better, with his arm in plaster now. After that I left the family and flew back home.

It's a week since I took Jack to Charleville and he phoned to tell me that young Jack was being let out of hospital and they would take the train back.

“Are you sure Jack?” I asked “It's no trouble to fly over and bring you back.”

“You've done more than enough for us, Boss,” was his reply. For a moment I was tempted to try and insist, but then I thought that it would make me sound like a benevolent dictator who knew better than Jack what was best for his family, so I just responded by saying “Ok Jack, I'll see you when you get back."

Let's hope that's the last drama in my life for a while.

To be continued:

Image credit: Australian cattle station by Harris Walker reproduced under Creative Commons licence with attribution.