Free The Quilt by Rochelle Carlton

looked thoughtful .
    “I guess you wouldn’t consider selling the ridge with the views?  The one at the back of Twin Pines.”
    Sean smiled before answering.
    “James Ridge?  No, that is part of the title I will retain.  It would be wrong to let it go.”
    Cliff nodded his understanding.  He continued after he had poured another hot steaming cup of tea for his young visitor.
    “We are running the Romney’s here.  They do pretty well on the King Country.  I am sure I can help if you want to purchase some good ewes or I can put you on to someone else when you are further down the track with the conversion.”
    Cliff ’s wife put down her knitting needles.  They had kept up a methodical clicking throughout their conversation.
    “You know Sean; it might be time to put a match to that old cottage of yours.  I know it’s none of my business but it would be nice to see you moving forward.  Some memories just aren’t worth keeping.”
    Sean looked up at the well-meaning face , open and friendly, a genuine woman showing genuine concern. It made him miss his own mother and feel the familiar ache of not knowing. 
    C liff pushed a piece of paper into Sean’s hand as he stood up to leave.
    “Here is the telephone number of a local builder.  David is a very nice man with a reasonable charge out rate.  He could design and build you a decent house you know.  He would also be handy to bring on site when you start on that shearing shed of yours.  He is very practical and has a farming background.”
     
    While Sean had been left with very little actual money to spend on the conversion to sheep and wool, Twin Pines itself had benefitted from years of hard work.  The basic development was completed, it was clear of scrub and weed, the fences and access roads were in good repair and the pasture fertilised and well stocked with quality Angus cattle.
     
    The desirable, rolling, three thousand acre block Sean had decided to sell was never listed publically.  Cliff purchased the land after obtaining an independent valuation and set about helping Sean stock Twin Pines with the best quality Romney rams and in-lamb ewes available.
     
    “David Hollingway speaking, how can I help you?” the voice rang out gruffly on the other end of the line.
    “Sean Clarke here from Twin Pines Station .”
    “Cliff said you would possibly be ringing.  He said you needed a design and build on a shearing shed, yards, raceways and ramps.  Is that right?”
    “And a house.”
    “I don’t do much of the farm building work anymore.  But I spent most of my younger years farming sheep .  What I can’t do, I can at least get organized for you.  There are specialised builders now days, some good some not so good.” He continued, “Cliff said you were pretty handy yourself.”
    Sean had always been talented working with timber.  Several of his macrocarpa tables and rustic seats had been sold locally and commanded very respectable prices.
    “I enjoy building tables and chairs, smaller items along those lines ,” Sean replied modestly.
     
    As promised David Hollingway made a brief visit the following day.
    He was a large, efficient and friendly man with a brisk manner, ready smile and was always quick with a good humored but often inappropriate joke. When he laughed it seemed to come from the very pit of his generous belly.
    He had already sketched plans for the new shearing shed designed to minimise stress and time, comfortable shearers quarters that combined an area for workers to prepare and eat meals and a three bedroom brick and tile rectangular farmhouse typical of the structure constructed at the time.  The house had a central hallway, large lounge and farm kitchen with a wet room at the rear entry so that dirty boots and coats could be shed without mess. 
    Sean mulled over the plans.  There was little he changed.  David Hollingway was practical ; exactly as he had been described.
     
    David Hollingway arrived in the early