Hugh & Kate

Chapter Nine: The Truck

"Right well, now they're loaded, how 'bout you boys think about getting a move on and Mum and I will follow along behind?"

Tony Weimann's voice was sorrowful, he tried to hide the shame and sadness he so deeply felt as he loaded the cattle onto the truck.
His wife and twin daughters were perched on the steel yard fences, their legs dangling from the rails, their own tearful eyes hidden by the shadows of their hats.

His sons, boys he'd watched grow into men, the men who were supposed to take over the farm, stood leant against the cattle crate in their oil stained jeans, and filthy shirts. They were stoic, and genuine, all the things he wanted in heirs to the property, all the things his father, grandfather and all the men who walked the Wattle Blossom Road property wanted in the future. He took great pride in his boys.

He was so proud of all of them, he felt unworthy to have been blessed with four healthy, willing, strong and empathetic children, they were the light of his life, his greatest achievement.
He was letting them down.
Mother Nature was letting them down.

"Hey," Grace said gently, "we're not going to lose this place. It's one mob of cattle, not all of them, not the whole farm. It'll be okay. Trust in God, my darling."

Tony nodded, he let out a heaving sigh; "load up boys, have you got you water?"

"Yeah Dad," Ben rumbled, climbing into the drivers side of the truck.

"Be safe! Mum and I are right behind you. Girl's there's a list of errands I need run around here and in town, stick together - we'll be home for tea."

🌾

The sale yards were always busy.
The canteen sold soggy hot chips, and lukewarm meat pies and there was never any tomato sauce.

"Have you boys eaten?" Grace asked, biting into a limp chip.

"Might pick something up on the way back." Ben replied, analysing the chip and screwing his nose up.

"Yeah I wouldn't eat those pies if I was lost in the desert Mum." Hugh grimaced.

Grace rolled her eyes with a smile; "your father is happy with 500 bucks a head for this lot."

"$500?! They're black Angus stud cattle! Should be paying for the blood line if nothing else." Ben grumbled, leaning against the yards, his drizabone coat barely keeping the wind out.

"If they were bulls, maybe," Tony chimed, slipping his paper market agenda into his pocket, along with his hand, "no one else can afford it mate. It's hard times."

"I know," Ben sighed.

"I remember when we used to kick around here in the mud," Hugh chuckled at the memory.

"So do I!" Grace laughed, picking up on Hugh's attempt to lighten the mood, "I also remember washing your clothes and having to soak them for a week!" 

Even Ben had to crack a smile at his mothers comment, the thunder cloud slowly lifting from his head.

"Let's just do this and get home, hey?" Tony said, as the announcer echoed over the yard.

-
The truck ride home with Ben was always a hoot.
They played loud music, talked footy or cricket, or girls.
They are barbecue shapes, and some sort of pastry or sweet from the bakery on the way.

Today wasn't dissimilar, except for a somber feel that hung over their heads.

They weren't far off home, the rolling hills were familiar and the landmarks more significant. They knew they were close.

"We won't lose the farm, will we Ben?" Hugh said, almost absentmindedly.

"You read Gran Peg's book yet?" Ben quizzed, "her and Grandpa Banjo, went through hell and high water, literally fire and flood and they didn't lose it. Through the Great Depression and all. Nothing can take home away from us."