Learn To Speak Cat

regain my composure.

“Thank you, Clive,” I finally said. “But I don’t know.”

“Please give my offer careful consideration. But don’t take too long; it’s nearly the end of the month, you know.”

That hit me!

My overdraft payment was due at the end of the month. Did Clive know my repayments were already behind?

“I have some business in town, so I’ll call back tomorrow for your answer.” Clive mounted while I stood with Bluey and watched him ride off.

“Well, Bluey, is this the end of the line?”

He looked up and licked my hand, unable to understand the dark cloud hanging over me and the turmoil filling my mind.

Eventually a discreet cough roused me and I looked up.

“Are you all right, Lizzie?” Bert queried.

“I don’t know, Bert. I just don’t know what to do.” He looked uncertain. “I wish there was something I could do.” Bert looked so earnest.

What could he do? He had less than me.

If I didn’t accept Clive’s offer, I could well end up joining Bert on the road when the bank took Wattle Tree Farm.

“Come on, Lizzie. I’ll make us a cuppa and you can tell me what’s the matter.

“Don’t they say a problem shared is a problem halved?”

I hesitated, trying to gather my chaotic thoughts, while Bert hurried on.

“Only if you want to, Lizzie. I don’t want to pry into your business.”

“You’re right, Bert. I need to talk to someone. And you won’t be prying into my business.”

Soon we were seated at my kitchen table and I was telling Bert my sad story.

“I barely remember my mother, who died when I was a toddler. So Farv and Gramps raised me. We were very happy.”

I paused briefly, lost in those happy memories, while Bert waited patiently.

“But the Spanish Flu took Farv in 1919 when I was eight. Then it was just me and Gramps.”

While I thought about Gramps and how he’d taught me about running the farm, Bert quietly refilled our mugs and cut us each another slice of fruitcake.

This time it was Bert who reached out and put his hand over mine.

We sat for a while. Words weren’t necessary as we drew strength and comfort from each other while our tea cooled.

“And then, two years ago, Gramps passed away. I was left to run Wattle Valley Farm alone.” Despite my best efforts, a tear rolled down my cheek.

Bert gently squeezed my hand and I gratefully returned his gesture. It felt so good to have someone to share my problems with.

I went on to tell him about my missing cattle and my fears if I couldn’t find them.

Then Bert sprang a big surprise.

“When I was coming over the ranges yesterday, I cut through the bush and came across a mob of prime black Angus cattle penned in a gully up there.

“I thought it was a funny place to hold them.”

My heart leaped. If he’d found my missing cattle my problems would be solved!

“Could you find them again?”

“I reckon I could.”

****

We had a quick lunch and saddled a couple of horses and rode off.

Bert looked quite smart dressed in some of Gramps’s clothes. He did scrub up well.

We made good time and I was a bit surprised at how well Bert could ride.

“I spent school holidays on my cousin’s farm,” he explained.

It seemed my cattle had been stolen.

What if we were too late? What if they had already been moved?

Chatting to Bert certainly helped to keep such worrying thoughts at bay.

About three miles along, towards the ranges, Bert indicated an overgrown track.

We were forced to ride single file, and about half a mile along we found the fenced-off gully Bert had described. But there were no cattle.

My heart sank and I slumped in the saddle.

Bert saw my distress and rode up alongside me.

“They must have pushed up along the gully looking for feed,” he said.

“The gate’s still shut and there’s no sign of them moving out.”

“I pray you’re right, Bert.” My spirits rose as he got down and untied the gate. “Look at this, Lizzie.”

Bert held up a silver button he’d picked up and a vision of the button missing from Clive’s jacket flashed before me.

He refastened the gate and we rode up the gully.

There were signs cattle had recently been here, but no cattle. Were we too late?

I was beginning to lose hope when Bluey lifted his head, sniffed the air and became alert. Were my cattle nearby?

We rode a little further and there, around a bend, were my cattle.

I could hardly believe we’d found them.

****

Things moved quickly over the next few months. My cattle topped the market, so I could settle my debts and remain mistress of Wattle Valley Farm.

You’d hardly recognise my shed after Bert fixed it, and his master builder business is flourishing.

Did Clive have anything to do with my cattle going missing?

I have my suspicions, but can’t prove anything. Maybe that’s a story for another day.

Oh, and Bert no longer sleeps in the shed. After our wedding last week, we now share my room!

The End.