Mud and Gold (75 page)

He could not appear in public without
several men asking how his cows were doing. After Frank had learned
to overcome his initial response, which was to shuffle his feet,
mumble a reply and wish he were elsewhere, he began to find the
interest rather gratifying. There were no jokes about ‘Frank
Kelly’s funny-looking cows’ now.

The new status that Frank had gained in the
community had an effect more concrete than improving his confidence
when speaking to people beyond his immediate family. When the time
came to put Duke William in with the cows for the bull’s annual
recreation, Frank found that there were a few farmers whose
interest in the qualities of his Jerseys went beyond mere
admiration: they wanted to hire Duke William to service their cows.
Although the money exchanged was only a matter of a few shillings
for each hiring, Frank swelled with pride.

‘They all know Duke William’s the best bull
in Ruatane,’ he told Lizzie one night as they lay in the darkness,
Mickey’s breathing a gentle soughing from his cradle under the
window.

‘He won’t wear himself out, will he?’ Lizzie
asked. ‘Doing all those other cows as well as yours?’

‘Not that fellow,’ Frank said stoutly. ‘He
could do twice that number and not notice the strain.’

‘You and your bull! Anyone would think it
was you they wanted to hire.’

‘No thanks, you’re trouble enough.’ Frank
patted Lizzie’s belly, searching for the as yet imperceptible
bulge. ‘Well, you can’t blame William for the state you’re in this
time. I started this one well before he got on the job.’

‘Mmm. I’m not going to be able to wear my
new dress much longer, eh? Never mind, it’s got good, deep seams,
I’ll be able to wear it after the new baby comes even if I do put
on a bit of weight.’

‘All the more to cuddle.’ Frank rolled onto
his back and drew Lizzie towards him until she laid her head on his
shoulder. ‘It’ll be just about time to start building that new cow
shed when the baby arrives.’

‘Well! It’s easy to tell what matters most
to you, isn’t it? That’s a fine way to talk about your child.’

‘Don’t go getting huffy, you know what’s
most important to me.’ He planted a kiss on her nose. ‘You are, you
old chook. But I’ve got to think about the cow shed and all that,
or I’ll never get things how I want them for you. They won’t just
happen by themselves.’

‘You think about things too much,’ Lizzie
said, the beginnings of drowsiness in her voice. ‘We’re all
right.’

‘I know we are, but “all right” isn’t good
enough for you.’ He shifted slightly, finding a more comfortable
position. ‘You know, I reckon it’d be better for us if we had one
of those co-operatives.’

‘What on earth is that?’

‘I’ve told you about them—the dairy advisor
mentioned it when he came out that time, and I’ve been reading
about them in the
Farmer
. You know, butter factories the
farmers own themselves instead of just a few businessmen making all
the money.’

‘That’s right, you did go on about it for a
while. It’s hard to remember that stuff when I’m half asleep.’ She
was quiet for a few moments, then spoke again as if interested
despite herself. ‘But if the farmers own the factory themselves,
doesn’t it take a lot of money to buy it in the first place?’

‘A heck of a lot.’

‘So where does the money come from?’

‘The banks loan it, then every month a bit
of money from the butter goes to the bank to pay it back.’

‘Well, that’s no use, then. You must have
borrowed about all the money Mr Callaghan had in the bank.’

Frank chuckled. ‘I expect he’s still got a
few pounds to lend. The dairy fellow said it costs about two
thousand pounds to set up a factory.’

He felt Lizzie jolt into wakefulness.
‘What?’ she said in a voice that was nearly a shriek.

‘Shh!’ They both lay in frozen silence,
listening for any sign that Lizzie’s exclamation had woken Mickey,
but the little boy merely snorted in his sleep and sank back into
peaceful breathing.

‘You could fire a gun beside that child and
he wouldn’t wake up,’ Lizzie said. ‘Frank, you’re not going to try
and borrow two thousand pounds, are you?’

‘Of course not! Mr Callaghan would laugh me
out of the bank if I even suggested it. No, the idea is you get
twenty or so farmers into it, then you each only have to borrow
about a hundred pounds.’

‘Oh, that doesn’t sound nearly as bad. I
thought you’d gone silly for a minute. So, when are you going to
start up this factory?’

The magnitude of the task loomed before
Frank. Unlike buying the Jerseys, this was not something he could
do alone, with only the bank manager to convince. ‘I don’t know,
Lizzie, probably never. No one else around here is interested in
that sort of thing.’

‘Then you’ll have to talk them into it,’
Lizzie said, as though describing the simplest of tasks.

‘How would I do that?’

‘Tell them why it’s a good idea, just like
you’ve been telling me. It sounds like sense to me.’

‘But you take notice of me, Lizzie—when it
suits you, anyway. No one else does.’

‘Make
them. You must know more about
that sort of thing than anyone else around here, with all that
stuff you keep reading. The other farmers are mad if they don’t
listen to you.’

Frank’s mouth found its way to Lizzie’s lips
and pressed against them. ‘You make me feel ten feet tall—when
you’re not making me feel like I’m two years old and I’ve been a
brat, anyway.’

‘I don’t do that!’

‘Well, not very often. Maybe I will try
talking to some of the other men about a co-operative, see what
they think. The worst they can do is laugh.’ Being laughed at,
though still something he disliked, no longer held the terrors it
once had for Frank.

‘They won’t laugh! Look at all those men who
want to hire Duke William.’

‘Three of them so far, Lizzie. That’s not
exactly the whole town. And there’s a big difference between giving
me a few shillings to hire my bull and letting me talk them into
borrowing a hundred pounds. I wonder if…’

‘What?’ Lizzie prompted.

‘Oh, just getting mad ideas again.’

‘What mad ideas? Tell me.’

‘I was sort of thinking… maybe if I did take
a couple of the cows up to Auckland—you know, to that show I was
talking about—and if they did all right there—’

‘Then they’d take notice of you!’ Lizzie
finished for him. ‘That’s just what’ll happen.’

‘Maybe. If I go—I still haven’t made up my
mind, you know.’

‘Oh, yes you have,’ said Lizzie. ‘You’re
going to that show. It’s decided.’ Having made her announcement,
she rolled onto her side and promptly fell into the deep sleep of
the utterly self-assured.

January – March 1894

Frank was not one to struggle against the
inevitable, especially when it was something he wanted to do. Once
Lizzie had stated so categorically that he was to go to Auckland
for the show, the idea took on the status of a settled thing, and
Frank began working towards making it happen.

There were letters to be written, entering
his animals for the show and booking a room in a boarding house for
himself. Then he had to book passage on the
Waiotahi
to
Tauranga, and from there to Auckland on the
Wellington
; he
could not leave it to chance that the boats would have room for one
bull and three cows on the days when he would need to travel,
especially on the slightly smaller
Waiotahi
. The cost of his
adventure mounted steadily, but as the time drew nearer Frank grew
more and more certain that it was the right thing to do.

The arrangements for the trip were not
difficult. They were simply a matter of dealing with people who
were ready and willing to provide what he needed in return for his
money. Such people did not need to be convinced that the trip was a
sensible idea.

Getting what he wanted from Arthur would be
another matter altogether. He could not possibly leave the farm
without someone trustworthy installed to do the heavy work while he
was away. Using one of Lizzie’s brothers was the obvious solution.
And while he did not concede Lizzie’s teasing claim that he needed
someone to see that he behaved himself while he was away, he would
welcome some help with the animals on the trip, as well as the
company of someone familiar when among so many strangers. That
meant getting Arthur’s acquiescence, even if his enthusiasm was too
much to hope for.

The memory of how terrified he had been when
asking for Lizzie’s hand made Frank smile. Arthur had given him the
most precious thing he had had to offer; it was a small enough
favour by comparison that Frank wanted now.

Early in February Frank’s letter-writing
tasks were complete, and he was ready to tackle Arthur. His
opportunity came soon enough, when he took Lizzie and the children
up to his father-in-law’s for Sunday lunch, on what would be one of
Lizzie’s last outings before pregnancy confined her to home.

After the usual huge family meal, the women
shooed the older children outside to play and began carrying the
dishes to the bench. Ernie made himself scarce before anyone could
suggest he should play with the children, and the men went into the
parlour to digest their meal in comfort.

As Frank discovered when he questioned
Lizzie later, she had not quite trusted him to raise the subject,
and had taken her own precautions. When she had seen her mother a
few days earlier, Lizzie had let slip the news of Frank’s proposed
journey, knowing that Edie would report it to Arthur, albeit in a
garbled state.

Sure enough, Frank had barely settled
comfortably into an armchair before Arthur assailed him.

‘What’s this I hear about you going to
Auckland?’

‘Well, I was sort of thinking of going,’
Frank admitted, taken aback.

‘Edie says you’re taking all those Jerseys
of yours up there to show someone.’

‘Not all of them!’ Frank said, trying to
hide a smile.

‘Yes, well, Edie gets a bit muddled
sometimes. I didn’t think you’d be that stupid. What mad idea’s got
into your head now, Frank?’

Frank saw Bill and Alf exchange an amused
glance, and Bill rolled his eyes at Frank in sympathy. This was not
quite the way he had planned to launch into the subject, but it was
too late to worry about that now.

‘There’s a big show on in Auckland next
month. I want to take Duke William and three of the cows up to
it.’

Arthur sighed, and shook his head. ‘Frank,
you don’t want to do that,’ he said, speaking slowly as if to a
very young child. ‘You’ve no idea what you’d be letting yourself in
for. You’d have to take them up on the steamer, then organise
grazing for them—in the city, mind you—as well as find a place to
stay yourself. You’d never get all that sorted out, certainly not
by next month.’

‘Oh, I’ve done all that,’ said Frank.

‘What?’ Arthur erupted. ‘You haven’t!’

‘Yes, I thought I’d get that settled before
I mentioned it to you—I didn’t want to worry you about that stuff.
I’ve booked all the passages, I’ve got a place for myself, and the
animals will stay at the place where the show’s going to be. It’s
all set.’ He studied Arthur, and was gratified to see how
disconcerted his father-in-law looked.

‘You’re a bit of a dark horse, aren’t you?’
said Arthur. ‘How much is this jaunt going to cost you?’

‘A fair amount,’ Frank admitted. ‘That’s all
right, though, I’m using a little bit of what I sold the bull for.’
Arthur winced at this reference, and Frank pressed the point home.
‘Thirty pounds I got for him.’

‘Yes, I know that, Frank. You’d steal the
crutches from a cripple, you would—taking thirty pounds for that
bull! The man must have been a simpleton.’ Frank hid a grin, aware
of the reluctant admiration behind Arthur’s invective. ‘Never mind
all that, it’s still a mad notion.’

‘I don’t think it is,’ said Frank.

‘I know you don’t, that’s why I’m explaining
it to you. This isn’t like driving a couple of cows into the
Ruatane show.’

‘I know. That’s why I need to go there.’
Frank hurried on before Arthur had time to interrupt. ‘No one’s
going to hear about my cows if I never go out of Ruatane. There’ll
be hundreds of farmers at that show, and they’ll all get a look at
my Jerseys. Next thing you know, I’ll have a few more people
wanting to buy the odd animal. Thirty pounds for that bull, Pa,’ he
reminded Arthur.

‘Don’t you go getting big-headed, Frank. The
world isn’t full of fools lining up to get fleeced by you.’

Frank laughed. ‘It doesn’t have to be! I
don’t need to sell many at that price, do I?’ He saw that Arthur
was on the verge of irritation, and assumed a more serious
expression. Now came the hard part. ‘I want to ask you a favour,
Pa. Quite a big one.’

‘Oh, you do, do you?’ said Arthur.

‘Mmm. I need someone to stay at my place and
look after the farm while I’m away. Just to do the milking and see
to the horses. Everything else can wait, I’ll only be gone a
week.’

‘You’ve got a cheek, Frank! You march up
here and tell me what you will and won’t do, then you want me to
let you have one of my sons so you can go off on this jaunt.’

‘That’s right,’ said Frank. ‘I’d like it to
be someone I could trust to do a good job. Of course, if it doesn’t
suit you to do without them I thought I might ask Matt Aitken if he
could lend me one of his boys.’ He held his breath to see if this
bluff would come off; he had no intention of asking such a favour
of the Aitkens.

‘You’ll do no such thing!’ Arthur said
indignantly. ‘Getting strangers to look after your animals when
you’ve family here!’

‘I’d much rather one of you helped me out. I
just thought if it didn’t suit—’