‘Nah, not in the next two weeks anyway. And we’ll need more than a few millimetres. We’ll need a bloody deluge to fill these dams—to wet up the soil and make the water run off into them.’

‘Doesn’t it frighten you?’ Zara asked.

‘Doesn’t what frighten me?’

‘Well, I guess I know that I’ve got money coming in every week. My pay goes into my account no matter what I do. You have to make sure so many things are going right—the weather, the stock market, the wool market. Aren’t you ever frightened that you might not make any money?’

Lynda looked over at her and, in the dim light, Zara could see a half-smile on her face.

‘Zara, honey, there are many years we don’t make any money. You should know that. We break even. During the good years, we make sure we keep money aside for the bad ones. We try and drought-proof ourselves—make sure the dams are all cleaned out, the hay stack is full, all of that sort of thing. Farming is a business, but it’s also engrained in me. I can’t imagine doing anything else. Or living anywhere else. This is my home, and all the stock and work that go with that are also mine. I love it.

‘There’re plenty of times I wish things were different, don’t get me wrong. I wish your dad hadn’t died and I wish Will wasn’t sick.’ She shrugged. ‘But what can you do? These things are so out of my control. If I could wave a magic wand, I’d change all of that. I’d make it rain, I’d keep the wool prices high all the time. But that’s pie in the sky stuff. As farmers you can’t think like that; you just have to take everything as it comes and adjust accordingly.’ She pushed herself off the ute and walked around to the driver’s side.

‘Don’t you get lonely?’ Zara wanted to know.

‘When your dad died, I spent a lot of time sitting on the verandah looking at the sky. Sometimes I’d rant and rave and ask why he was taken away so suddenly and, at other moments, I just sat and remembered the times we’d had together. I wasn’t as lonely then because I had Will. And this land speaks to me. You don’t have to have an indigenous background to connect with the land. Rowberry Glen has its own personality that keeps me company.’