The Strength of Our Dreams Read online

  My health was improving daily as I slept, worked and exercised. It was such a treat to be in tune with the world around me again, not standing back and watching everything in the detached manner I had been. Not travelling for a whole month had been such good medicine, causing such a feeling of excitement each day when I woke.

  At the beginning of January Franz and the ‘A team’—the name I had given Herman, Gepherdt and Gunther—were busy packing for a fishing and overnight camping trip down on the Victoria River, near the mouth of the Bullo. Our A team returned with their first barra, or the only one they didn’t eat, and their first Australian sunburn. After only one day on the river they looked like they had been roughing it for at least a few weeks. They all seemed very pleased to be back from the wilderness—even though they had been only twelve miles away from the homestead the entire time.

  The next day I received a surprise phone call from Frances Mason, a friend I met when we lived in Maryland back in the sixties and her husband Jack who was an old sailing buddy of Charlie’s. Frances’s lovely American accent travelled across the thousands of miles and came loud and clear into the homestead in outback Australia.

  She had read in the English magazine, Hello, that the Duchess of York had been given a book by her sister called From Strength to Strength, written by an Australian author, Sara Henderson. She wondered if it was me, and was calling to find out. She was quite excited when I told her yes, and she said a friend of hers in Alice Springs was sending the book to her. Her friend had read the book and told Frances she would also enjoy it. Over the years Frances has sent Christmas cards every year, but I have been very remiss, only managing about one every five years or so. So I was fairly up to date with what was happening in her life and when the book arrived she was about to catch up on mine.

  This call was one of the many which came from friends in America who had received my book from people living in Australia. The book was also about to go to Austria. Herman was staying on Bullo for a few more months, but Gepherdt and Gunther were off home, and my book was going with them. They had a wonderful visit and we enjoyed having them. Franz had a wonderful time with them in the workshop, each one helping him with their particular skill.

  We were now down to one dog, Franz’s Mr Mustang—a very playful half-grown puppy, who was so devoted to his master he didn’t want to spend time with anyone else. On our way back from Christmas shopping in Darwin Marlee had arranged to get a Rottweiler puppy for me for Christmas. The litter was only just born and too young to leave their mother, so she made arrangements for my puppy to come out to Bullo on the mail plane. The puppy arrived in the first week of January, still so tiny she could sit comfortably in my hand. I was overjoyed to have another puppy.

  I, of course, was writing, so I put Sumie in a basket on the floor next to my chair, and there she stayed. She was the quietest puppy I had ever had, but I thought this was good considering I sit most of the day in the office writing or doing office work.

  But there was something wrong. She was eating, drinking milk and the colour of her mouth and eyes was good, but she was covered with tiny ticks. I spent a whole day taking off as many as I could, but with her thick, fluffy hair it was impossible to clean her properly and I couldn’t dip her as she was too young. I called Sarah, our vet, and she said it was probably the ticks which were making her listless and quiet. She said for Marlee to give an injection of a minute dose of Ivamec which would kill the ticks, and I would just have to watch her from there. If she was eating and starting to take interest in things around her, we didn’t have to worry. If there was no improvement, we should call back. Sumie perked up a little the next day after her injection, but the following morning was not the least bit interested in food or play. There was something very wrong: this puppy wasn’t quiet by nature, she was sick. Luckily, we had hired an aircraft for a few months so Franz was able to fly Sumie straight to Kununurra.

  A low-pressure area moved in over the valley later that afternoon, and we had bad weather for days. So she was one very lucky puppy in many ways—if Franz hadn’t gone that morning, the weather would have prevented him from flying for days.

  Sarah rang to say Sumie had so many worms in her system they were eating through the walls of the blood vessels. She had been sick when she arrived at Bullo, but I mistook it for a quiet nature. The pilot of the mail plane had remarked when he arrived with her how good and how well behaved she was for a puppy. He had taken her out of her box and she lay completely still on the seat next to him for the entire flight. We now know why!

  Coming from a breeder, I just assumed she had been wormed and Marlee was told she was current with all her injections. So I wasn’t even thinking of worm medicine for at least a few more weeks! Sarah said the injection Marlee gave Sumie to get rid of the ticks actually saved her life, because it also killed the worms inside her little body. The trouble was she was also bleeding internally and was not winning this battle. Franz got her there in the nick of time but as it was, the diagnosis was not good. All that could be done for the puppy was being done, but Sarah warned me, ‘Be prepared, she might not come home.’

  We had not been having a good run with our dogs. As I waited anxiously, Sarah was very patient and sweet, updating me with regular reports. Sumie made it through the first two days after a blood transfusion, but I was not to get my hopes up just yet, I was told, as it was a long way to go before we could consider the puppy safe and on the way to recovery.

  Sumie’s tiny, empty basket sat forlornly in the corner, catching my eye and reminding me of the sweet little black ball of fluff that for just a short time had been part of my life. I moved the basket out of sight and tried to put little Sumie out of my thoughts.

  The low-pressure area moved away and the sun came out. Sarah called the same day to say Sumie was off the critical list but she wanted to keep her for a few more days until she recovered a little more strength. Sarah had been taking Sumie home with her each night and the puppy was becoming quite playful. This was a Sumie I was yet to see! I was grateful to Sarah who through her care and love was responsible for Sumie making a full recovery. After such good news I moved Sumie’s basket back into my office and placed it on the floor next to my desk and waited for her return.

  After all of nine days in hospital, a healthy and very playful puppy arrived back in the plane with Franz. I had to keep her away from Mr Mustang for a while, as he was six months older and far too rough for this small ten-week-old recovery patient. So Sumie spent her days in my office playing with toys in her basket, while I wrote.

  With the holidays over, the phone was back to ringing every half an hour. I was going to need an operator soon at this rate! I had one call from quite a character who said he was starting up a cattle empire. I patiently listened to all his plans for the next twenty years. After this enthusiastic rundown, he finally got around to the reason for the call. He was interested in breeding bulls, and could we help. The way he was talking I visualised a sale of a few hundred to stock his great cattle empire and said we might be able to supply some of his needs. Just how many bulls did he have in mind, I asked.

  ‘One,’ came the proud reply.

  ‘One!’ I exclaimed, amazed.

  ‘Well, there could be a further purchase later on,’ mumbled the big spender.

  I told him the price and said yes, we could fill his whole order without much delay. My sarcasm fell on deaf ears, as he was busy accepting the deal with such attention to detail, you would think we were moving ten thousand bulls! The next question really floored me.

  ‘Do you deliver?’

  I collected myself sufficiently to reply, ‘Only if you purchase one hundred and fifty!’

  We didn’t deliver, no-one delivered, but this fellow had a lot to learn, and I knew hell would freeze over before he ever purchased one hundred and fifty bulls. So I was safe with my free freight offer.

  The no delivery seemed to put a spoke in his massive livestock purchase plan. But he was not at a los
s for solutions. ‘If I bring my utility over there, could I tie him on a lead in the back?’ A semi-wild, young, eight hundred kilo bull was not something you put in an open Toyota on a lead! These cattle would have to be fully enclosed in strong crates to travel, but our new cattle king thought the animal would stand still during a seven-hour journey in the back of a Toyota!

  It took me a lot longer this time to gather myself and in between lots of coughing to cover my laughter, I managed to get out, ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘Pity,’ came the thoughtful reply.

  I could see endless wasted time moving this one bull, so I told him I would arrange for the bull to go to Katherine with the next load of cattle leaving the station. How the cattle baron got him from the Katherine stockyards to his vast spread of a hundred acres, I never found out. But I often wonder if he tried to tie the bull on a lead in the back of his utility.

  I almost didn’t answer the next call, worried it would be the cattle king again with some in-depth question about his great venture into the livestock market. Luckily I did; it was our lawyer. BTEC had dropped the case against us for moving untested cattle off the property. The previous July, we had received news that the BTEC (the Brucellosis, Tuberculosis Eradication Campaign) sued Marlee for moving untested cattle off the property. But charge Marlee and you were charging me or vice versa. So we braced ourselved to face yet another court case. Again we were in the right, but we were bitterly aware this meant nothing in the so-called courts of justice. The case was over a silly paperwork mistake, but no-one on their side would admit to the mistake.

  It seems the only justice you get these days is when you don’t go to court and I was very happy with the news. The relief of not having to go to court took a great weight off my mind and I went on writing with renewed enthusiasm.

  One of the very first calls of the next day gave me the news that Noel Buntine had died. Another legend of the north gone. I will always remember when Noel and Charlie first met. Charlie, dressed in moleskins and shiny riding boots, was waiting impatiently, wondering why there was a delay loading the cattle. He walked over to a fellow working under the truck. Charlie, in his inimitable and infuriating way, said jokingly, ‘You don’t think I am going to put my cattle in that broken down heap, do you?’

  ‘You don’t think I am going to load those *&#$@@* cattle into my good truck, do you?’ came the instant reply.

  Charlie took offence immediately, suddenly losing his sense of humour. ‘You’re a bit of a cheeky bugger, aren’t you!’

  ‘Yeh, you might say that,’ came the disinterested reply.

  ‘Well, I just might report you to your boss. How does that affect you?’

  ‘Not much,’ came the reply.

  Charlie, quite angry now, was determined to teach this upstart a lesson. ‘Where is Noel Buntine?’ he demanded in his best officer’s voice.

  ‘Under a truck the last time I saw him.’

  Charlie marched over to a group of drivers standing beside the other road trains parked by the yards and demanded they point Noel Buntine out to him. They looked at him quizzically for a few seconds and one finally said, ‘Jeez mate, that’s him you was just talking to!’

  Charlie walked sheepishly back across the yard to Noel who was still under the truck. ‘Touché,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Whatever,’ came the Aussie retort.

  ‘I’m Charles Henderson, shall we start again?’

  ‘I know who you bloody well are, Charlie!’ Came the terse reply.

  Charlie was at a loss for words for a few seconds. Noel, having finished the job, got out from under the truck, brushed the dust off his clothes and inadvertently all over Charlie’s clean moleskins and highly polished riding boots, and said, ‘I’m ready now to load those &&&ȼ%!* cattle of yours. Better get out of the way, Charlie, you might get dust on your boots.’

  From that moment on Charlie thought Noel Buntine was the best. I won’t print what Noel thought of Charlie. But each in their own inimitable way was a legend of the north. Noel because he was a doer, building a great trucking company from scratch. Charlie because he created crazy dreams, most of which didn’t work for him in his lifetime, but inspired other people to chase dreams.

  The day Marlee and I drove into Katherine to attend Noel’s funeral I received a fax from my publishers to tell me I was their best-selling author for 1993. I framed it! I was also second in all books sold in Australia for the year, with Wild Swans at number one. This was heady stuff!

  We returned from Katherine, arriving home at around midnight. Another low settled in during the early hours of the morning and our road was finally closed for the rest of the wet season—about six weeks later than usual.

  Danielle called the next night from New Zealand, ‘Just called to tell you we are OK, and not to worry.’

  ‘Why should I worry?’ was my mystified reply.

  ‘Mum, haven’t you been watching TV?’

  ‘Our receiver box is broken, what’s happened!’ I started to worry.

  ‘There are terrible floods in the South Island, and we had to be airlifted out of Milford Sound by army helicopter last night.’

  They certainly were having a honeymoon they wouldn’t forget! I put the phone down, thankful they were safe and realising that not having TV had saved me days of endless worry.

  As we are cut off by road at this time and our mail delivery is dependent on the weather, it can sometimes be up to a month before we see mail. So the phone, and more recently, the fax machine, are the only fast ways of contacting the station.

  Around the middle of January I received a call asking me if I could be Australia Day Ambassador in one of the country towns in NSW as part of their celebrations. I was so disappointed I couldn’t do this, but I had a conference already booked in Auckland, and there was no way I could get plane connections back to Australia in time.

  After all the problems and delays I then experienced getting to this conference, I decided it was too risky to take bookings in the monsoon season, from mid December to March.

  Two days before I was scheduled to leave for the conference not one, but three, low-pressure systems were either over, or approaching, Bullo, so I had to leave the station ahead of time. The young charter pilot who flew me to Kununurra had not been in the north long and this was his first wet season. He did a lot of map reading and looking out the window, trying to see landmarks in the breaks of heavy cloud cover. I did a lot of praying. I then had a three-hour wait for the jet to Darwin and another day in Darwin before my flight to New Zealand was due. All this because the lows approaching the station would make travelling in small planes impossible for several days. This meant it took the best part of a week of travelling for me to arrive in New Zealand and speak for one hour!

  Weather again delayed my return flight into the station and January was all but over when I unpacked my suitcase with two happy rottie puppies jumping all over me. Franz had given Marlee a delightful three-month-old, monster-size puppy called Bow, so we were now wall-to-wall with puppies, but they were lots of fun.

  I suppose the major event of the month was the last payment of the miserable Trippe saga! This was the final payment of the legal fees for the Trippe court case. I had paid out the amount handed down in the judgment, my legal fees and now the last payment of his legal fees was due.

  This was a very bittersweet moment in my life. Every month since August I had been making this monthly payment and I was sick to the stomach as this money went out of the bank account each time. But to have no reason for any further contact with this person was well worth the final payment.

  I sent authority to my bank to transfer the funds, just transferring the round thousands figure and inadvertently leaving off two dollars.

  Well, you should have seen the letter I received back from his lawyer, demanding that I pay the two dollars immediately, and what would happen to me if I didn’t. Just the time taken to type the letter would have cost fifty times the amount! First I was amazed
and then I got angry. To receive such a letter over two dollars after all the money I had paid over was too much!

  In my anger I told my lawyer I wanted to reply in an even stronger tone. ‘Up yours!’, ‘Get stuffed’, ‘Don’t hold your breath waiting for it!’, ‘If you don’t like it, sue me, you b……!’ were some of my ideas. My lawyer told me to think it over and he would talk to me the next day. His advice was to just ignore it, no-one would be stupid enough to sue for $2!

  I put all I wanted to say down on paper. I dearly wanted to send it but finally succumbed to sanity and filed it in the thick file marked ‘Trippe’. I slammed the filing drawer shut and had the great satisfaction of being done with that unpleasant part of my life.

  CHAPTER 3

  February 1994 – April 1994

  By the time I had unpacked, played with the puppies, worked on only the very desperate office work, caught up with station matters with Marlee, and had a rare day to myself, it was time to leave again.

  This was a short trip, only to Perth—just down the road a bit, really. But unfortunately, it was home via Melbourne, Sydney, and Darwin. I flew to Perth, arriving at 8 p.m. that night, spoke the next day and departed for Melbourne, arriving at some unearthly hour of the night. The following morning I was interviewed by a board of directors to see if I was suitable to speak at their company’s conference the next year. We had a great board meeting, and I must have passed the test—even though I was dog tired—because the booking for the conference was confirmed while I was flying to Darwin.