Redemption - Leon Uris [5]
DEAR LIAM STOP I HAVE COLLECTED A SMALL FORTUNE IN ADVANCE ON A COMMISSION TO RESTORE THE GREAT SCREEN IN THE LONG HALL OF HUBBLE MANOR STOP I HAVE PAID OFF YOUR PASSAGE IN FULL STOP CERTIFICATE IS ON THE WAY STOP FURTHER FUNDS ARE BEING TRANSFERRED FOR YOU TO START A HOMESTEAD STOP DADDY UNAWARE STOP YOUR BROTHER CONOR
2
Well, Conor’s cable changed the manner of doing things. The couple departed the Hargrove acres with only the mutilated suitcase Liam had arrived with. Mildred left everything, every stitch of clothing, her hope chest, her show horses, and her private possessions.
However, since young womanhood she had been in control of a bank account of earnings. Much of the money she had acquired was by shrewd trading on the various agricultural markets. It would serve as a down payment on something.
Father Gionelli, who had heard both of their confessions over a period of time, had been expecting them. He agreed to marry them provided they agreed to invite Bert and Edna to the christening. They agreed, reluctantly. The Hargroves felt one-third betrayed, one-third guilty, and one-third enraged, and they declined to come. A bitter seed had been planted.
Liam chose a strange and oblique name for his son: Rory. No one in the Larkin line had been named such and to name the first born outside of family was rare and uneasy. Liam reckoned that Rory had been a great Irish king and that was sufficient.
Rory was christened immediately after birth and dubbed “wee” Rory to indicate he had probably been born premature. Rory was hardly “wee” but hardy and quite beautiful. It almost seemed impossible he was born out of the two of them. “Wee” Rory had been hung about his neck like an invisible pendant. It was not that he was born in disgrace but that “an unusual child should have an unusual name.”
Bert Hargrove had always said that if Mildred had been a boy she would have been the best runholder in the South Island, she was that certain of the skills she needed. Her leaving was another cruel blow for Bert, for she had kept the ledgers, the payroll, the taxes, the contracts for land purchases, and knew the buy-and-sell game of the wool market keenly.
With Mildred’s head operating Liam’s instinct and knowledge of farming, they made a team that went from humble homesteaders to important runholders in a few years. The government of New Zealand at the time was intent on building a cattle and wool industry able to trade with the world and become an important cog in Britain’s wheel. Privileged terms on land and animal stock were backed by the government and the Larkins knew how to grab them.
There was additional support from Conor Larkin, who was faring well with his foundry in Derry. Mildred’s whipsaw mind knew exactly what to do with the windfall funds from Conor. When the thousandth acre was acquired, mortgage free, Liam hung up a sign: BALLYUTOGUE STATION, LIAM LARKIN, ESQ. “Squire Liam, mind you, a commoner of stature demanding respect by his achievement.” Ballyutogue Station—Liam Larkin, Esq. How many times did he repeat it? Mildred knew. She knew that “Squire” look in his eyes and how she loved it.
Why did he name his station, Ballyutogue, after his village in Ireland? The word itself meant “a place of sorrow” and sorrow is what he had gotten from it. Sweet…sweet revenge. “I’ll show all of you Liam was not the bumbling fool of the Larkins. The Ballyutogue Station I created will remind me of my victory every time I enter its gates.”
For a landless croppy it was far more than burgeoning boundaries of his land and far more than a country that wanted and accepted him. It was Mildred.
“My husband is not going to be an illiterate,” she commanded, and taught him how to read and write far beyond ordinary requirements. He’d think to himself when he had solved a difficult passage in the Bible or