Published: 16 Apr 2018

Eventually Jeremiah Bull came with the news of Lachlan’s deceit and McBride received it with quiet rage. He nodded at the appropriate moments and sighed at stories completion but the rage was there and it would build, eating away at his pride and his ego, until it ready to explode.

How Bull came upon the story was obvious, although the Henderson farm’s purchaser was not disclosed to the general public, it was within the papers of transfer and being the town’s representative of the Bank of Queensland, Bull had access to such information and as a close associate of McBride was only too pleased to share what he had discovered.

“Your son Lachlan had bought the Henderson property with Stephen Henderson.” Bull advised.

“That can’t be, they are both under the legal aged to do so.” McBride answered in disbelief.

“Smart kid that son of yours, he used a proxy in Michael Duncan, who is holding the property in trust until the boys turn twenty-one.”

McBride refused to answer further, instead he stood and walked away, taking with him a pride so hurt he would never recover from it.

On his next visit to the farm McBride went the extra distance to the Henderson’s farm. Immediately he perceived the entitlement overhanging the bolted gate, bold it was and in his face as if slapping him hard on both cheeks. He saw the new structure rising from the rocky soil and in his belief almost ready for occupation. In general it was a modest building, large in comparison to most but built well and functional but more to the point it was there and on the land that should have been his.

As he departed his thoughts dwelt on punishment, revenge even against his own, realising banishment would not suffice, as it would permanently remove Lachlan from his control as it had Robert. In his usual way McBride would bide his time, threaten and continue to do so, extending the punishment by not executing it at all. It was his way and in the past had worked well, the only fly in his pot of honey was Lachlan’s character, unlike Robert he wouldn’t rant but silently accept whatever the old man said and in time do the opposite. Lachlan was truly the character the youthful McBride had aspired to be, the boy had even stolen that away from him and his despise of his youngest increased with each passing day.

It was a rare visit to the farm from Jock McBride and he came in silent wrath, firstly he visited William with the information of the Henderson property, then ordered Lachlan to his study, where he made him stand, as he had often done when Lachlan was a child while giving him his mind.

“Lachlan as a son you disappoint me.” He said softly and then paced the floor from the large oak desk to the double ceder doors, past the wall of books and back. All that could be heard was the echoed ticking of the clock in its tall hollow casing. It struck the hour making both father and son flinch.

“I was only doing the right thing.” Lachlan quietly answered, his head bowed away from his father’s gaze. Those eyes, those wild Scottish eyes, filled with Scotland’s pride and Gaelic failures could do more damage than could the old man’s broad accented tongue. He shook his head while breathing heavily from the close air within the study.

“Your family is the right thing.” The old man’s voice rose ever so slightly, “I expect total loyalty from this family.” He paused, took in another deep breath that whistled through his throat.

“What am I going to do with you?” The old man asked while Lachlan held his silence, waiting for the predicted banishment.

“If you weren’t my son I would knock you down.” He added shaking his head in disappointment and disgust. His fists clenched by his side until whiteness drew across the thick masculine knuckles.

Still Lachlan held his tongue causing even more fury in the father.

“Son you will be punished.” He growled.

“Why should I allow you to remain here?”

Lachlan remained silent, his head holding a submissive position.

“Like Robert I should send you packing.”

“You are a disappointment,” McBride repeated. A huge disappointment,” he repeated again but even to McBride his words sounded hollow, there wasn’t any language to describe his rage.

“A total disappointment,” Now he allowed a breathing space for his anger to reach the inner sanctum of the boy’s mind. Still Lachlan held his silent position.

“You will be punished and I have already asked for advice how such a transaction can be annulled. I will have a second auction of that land.”

Lachlan felt an itch in his shoulder above the blade; he dared not scratch, he remained upright, head bowed and silent, arms folded across his chest. The itch increased. He knew well that the law was his and there was nothing his father could do to reverse the sale. McBride was no longer the law but one to abide by the law.

“I should knock you down!” The old man repeated his voice heavy in his throat, while still searching for those elusive words. They did not exist.

“You will be punished,” The man’s anger was building, threat upon repeated threat, thought upon thought without coherent correlation, his eyes maddening as he began to slur his speech, while appearing not to be in the room with his son but in some distant place he once controlled, away from a changing world he could not influence.

Lachlan lifted his head and searched deeply into his father’s eyes searching for anything of his father’s strength, that unswayable will that had to be obeyed, what he found was a dull despondency as if the man had lost his robust command over all about him.

Standing before Lachlan was a broken man unable to regain his past, now only possessing the ability to display rage. Yes, once all else had gone, nothing remained but revenge and rage.

“Get out of my sight for now – I’ll talk to you at another time.”

Lachlan left the room without emotion, he was beyond caring what his father thought or threatened. It would have been easy for him to state his mind as Robert had done but that would only lower himself to his father’s level. For now he would go along with his father’s threats until he was ready to leave the farm forever.

Martha McBride was found in the kitchen, helping Polly finish up for the night, when the old man entered and told Polly to leave the room.

“How are you dear?” Martha asked with her soft caring voice, while Jock stood with his hands on his hips as if searching for the correct words. “I guess you know about Lachlan’s duplicity.” He growled.

“What has the lad done now?” Martha cautiously asked, knowing well of the Henderson affair, while attempting to remain indistinct.

“You knew about it, didn’t you woman?” He demanded.

“About what dear,” Again Martha questioned.

“I am not happy with any of your son’s.” He declared in a low and accusing voice as he transferred ownership of his disappointment.

“My son’s Jock, I thought you said they were your sons?” Martha answered quietly, while controlling the fear building within her breast.

“I am divorcing you as I wish to marry Mary Briggs.” McBride declared as incidentally as one would ask about the weather.

“Why?”

“You have turned my children against me will do for a start.” He paused.

“You can stay here for now but later we will have to think of somewhere for you to live.”

Martha was shocked and couldn’t find an answer. There wasn’t any, McBride was uncompromising and would act upon his threat without compassion. Then the old man repeated his threat, grunted and departed the kitchen mumbling incoherently as he went. At the kitchen door he met with Polly’s return, “You can clear out as well,” he growled without lowering his eyes upon the girl.

It was some days before Martha told anyone about her husband’s threat. Lachlan was delivering fire wood when he found his mother sitting at the kitchen table quietly sobbing. Dropping the wood in the fire box he hurried to his mother’s side. Slowly the story evolved and her concern was truly shared.

“What will you do?” Lachlan asked, his hands gently resting on his mother’s shoulders. Martha could feel her son’s anxiety and love as warmth flowing from his finger tips.

“I don’t know, strangely even after all these years I still love him.”

“I am sorry mother; it is my fault for buying the farm for Stephen.” Lachlan softly apologised.

“No Lachlan your doing so was correct, the land belongs to Stephen, besides it has been coming for quite some time. I guess I didn’t wish to admit it.” Martha freely confessed.

“You can stay at the Henderson farm if you wish, the house is almost ready.” Lachlan offered.

“Thank you son but I think I will go to my sister in Townsville.”

“We would miss you mother.”

“And I would miss you all but I couldn’t stay here under the circumstances. Besides, the girls have gone, Robert is going and I should think you will also move on, as for William and Cameron. William will do his father’s bidding and Cameron, well I guess he will remain as William’s shadow” Martha paused, realising she had omitted someone. “Ah and of course Daniel; Daniel will follow whoever will have him.”

“When is all this to happen?”

“You know your father a month or a year, a life time if he is enjoying the situation, who knows but I guess I will make my own decision and it will be soon.”

At this moment Martha dried her crying and forced a smile.

“Do you know Lachlan for the first time in years I actually feel happy. It will be a relief to be away from your father.” She paused and apologised. “I shouldn’t say that.”

“I think he is going to kick me out as well over the Henderson farm but it doesn’t matter. If you weren’t here there wouldn’t be anything to hold me either.”

“Please Lachlan don’t tell the others yet.”

“Of course I won’t.”

Some time had passed and nothing more was heard in relation to Lachlan’s punishment, although divorce proceedings were executed and Martha received the papers delivered by a youthful solicitor’s clerk in a dull suite, covered in horse hair and stained with both the animals and his own sweat, his hair sleeked back with oil that stained his collar and shoes once black and shiny, now grey and scuffed, yet there was a rough pride about the lad, he was of importance with a duty to execute.

“Good morning Mrs. McBride, I am Thomas Dunn representing Gossing and Smyth and I have been instructed to serve you with these papers,” the youthful spotty faced clerk greeted; his voice stuttered and nervous, while attempting to appear officious. “Please sign here.” He demanded, mustering the strongest voice he could manage, as he produced a stick nib pen and a sealed bottle of blue ink, his fingers stained from previous dipping. Martha accepted the documents but refused to sign for them.

“But you must.” The spotty clerk protested, his voice rising to an almost shriek.

“There is no such thing as must young man.”

“But I have been instructed.” The lad was blabbing, as Martha offered the papers back.

“You must sign.” The lad repeated even more nervously than before.

“Good day to you Tommy Dunn.” Martha gently closed the door leaving the youth lacking his most necessary signature or the documents.

Martha read the document and quietly laughed. Strangely its receipt was more a relief than distress, she neatly refolded the document with a ‘oh hum’ and slipped it under her husband’s locked study door. ‘There you go, posted to the right person.’ She sighed as she walked away.

Jock McBride was proud of himself. He had served his papers on his wife. He was still financially the most influential citizen in town and since his federation rebuff and Lachlan’s duplicity he developed another roll, that of silent destroyer of those who were against him. His habit of playing one against the other was still his most important weapon and of course money, which he would use to obtain revenge against his opponents. The man was now beyond reality and believed all plotted against him, every whisper, every word spoken behind his back had become a plot.

McBride was still holding much of the land around the town and used this to prevent its growth. If anyone wished to purchase land to build a house or business, he would stall them, or demand such a price that no one would pay. If an establishment were to come onto the market, he would bid for it and pay any price for its possession, then leave it vacant or charge rental so high that no one would be interested.

The town soon become strangled and an undercurrent of hatred flowed like a river past the old man’s door. He cared not, the more hatred he received the happier he became but most of all he hated his family, this was apparent as he also plotted against them, although his plans seldom progressed past conception.

Possibly it was Mary Brigg’s influence preventing many of McBride’s retaliations. She genuinely loved the man and felt sorrow for his family. She could sooth his anger with her voice and his rage with her fondness but Mary alone could not be his salvation, even she realised that.

As for Lachlan he remained on the outer, McBride had not yet decided on his son’s punishment although he believed the only true castigation was as he had done with Robert and that was permanent banishment from farm and family. The man stalled in doing so as it may only send him to the Henderson farm and much too close to be considered banishment and instead become a favour to the lad. Possibly, he thought, he could have him arrested on some charge, theft would be the most likely but would his sons back him on such a indict, Daniel would not, Cameron could not, while even William was becoming somewhat recalcitrant.

Now the only time McBride could find any measure of relief from his self-inflicted pain was while in the company of Mary Briggs, even so it was not true happiness, only a kind of medication against the torment that was his life. He no longer felt comfort from money, his dealing or watching his cane gently toss heads within a breeze, nor did he have a single remote feeling towards his sons, his daughter their children, they were becoming no more than added thorns within his delusion.

Watching Mary at work within her kitchen gave McBride hope, possibly he could start again, a new family bearing the once proud McBride name, could Mary give him the children, sons he desired, the grandchildren he required to build an empire, as Martha had not. It was Martha’s doing his sons were against him; she had influenced them into rebellion, he was sure of that.

From such a thought came desolation, the years were travelling at such a rate there was little time left to start again, enough energy, enough sap left in the weakening limbs to do so. Yet there was still William, he remained loyal and Cameron he could not be anything but loyal, yet little else. The cloud of gloom closed in as he sat silently watching Mary Briggs and he closed his mind to it all and could only hear the rumbling within his head, the shrieking of revenge and the pain of duplicity.

It was a fine morning and McBride was on his way to visit with Jeremiah Bull at his office. He needed to transfer funds to Brisbane in payment for some new farm machinery, after which he would have to arrange delivery through the shipping agent.

On his way to the banking office McBride chanced to meet Michael Duncan who gave a slight nod and continued on his way. That nod became the red rag that enraged, McBride turned while Duncan was a good dozen steps past and loudly called after him.

“Mr. Duncan I believe you owe me an apology.” McBride demanded, Duncan turned but remained silent.

“I have been talking to Jeremiah Bull and he tells me you are holding the Henderson property in trust for my boy.”

“And a good day to you Mr. McBride,” Duncan greeted and commenced to continue on his way.

“I’m talking to you Mr. Duncan, don’t you dare turn your back on me.” McBride’s voice commenced to climb as a small crowd began to gather.

“I should be reminding Mr. Bull that private business is just that and he has no right to disclose it.” Duncan calmly answered.

“Is it true Mr. Duncan?” The man demanded.

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t but what ever it is Mr. McBride, it be none of your affair, I bid you good morning sir.”

Duncan turned leaving the man seething and if he could have found the energy to cover the expanding distance between himself and Duncan he would have become violent. Instead he stood clenched fisted while becoming the centre of attention to those in the street.

Two women travelling the footpath stood at distance and commenced to make comment, one fine lady commenced to smile, again a red rag to the man’s animal nature. He turned towards the women, “and Mrs Illingworth what would be interesting you this fine morning.” There was a sting in his tone that caused the women to depart, “and you be telling your Henry, I will be expecting final payment by the fourth of next or I will default the loan.” Now it was more than certain McBride had become the centre of that morning’s entertainment and many more had gathered waiting for the man to implode.

Jeremiah Bull had witnessed the affair from his office window and once it was safe to do so, believing there wasn’t to be a physical altercation, he came from his office to speak with McBride.

“Come inside Jock away from all this.” He spoke softly and gently took the man by his coat cuff. McBride remained rigid, his eyes remaining on the Illingworth woman as she quickly went about her business.

“Mr. Duncan believe me this isn’t the end of the matter!” McBride shouted but Duncan had turned the corner and was no longer in his sight.

“Come inside Jock.” Bull repeated, managing to extract his friend from public view.

“Take a chair and I’ll make you a cup of tea.” Bull suggested.

“Scotch if you mind.”

“Right-o scotch it is.” Bull retrieved a small bottle from a drawer and poured two drinks, he passed one to McBride.

“Jock I didn’t give you that information so you could attack citizens in the street.” Bull determined.

“The man should mind his own business.” McBride passed his glass back for a refill.

“That is true but I have given you confidential bank business, if my head branch hears of it, I could loose my position.” There was concern in Bull’s voice but McBride wasn’t listening.

“I’ve never liked the man and he’s been looking for ways to inflict revenge ever since.” McBride didn’t announce his reason as the fallout was over an illegal deal Duncan refused to be part of.

“Still it’s done now and you don’t need that land.”

“It’s the principal Jeremiah, the bloody principal of it all.”

“Unfortunately we all have to swallow our principles on the occasion.” Bull related in an attempt to take the heat out of McBride’s mood.

“Are you sure there isn’t any chance the sale can be revoked?” McBride demanded.

“None what-so-ever, it is done and that is the end to it all.”

Gary really wants to know if you are reading his story. You may let him know, by dropping an email to him: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net.

51,950 views