The Shepherd's Hut

by Tim Winton

  We looked out east where the far shore was just a red ripple. And when I turned to go because enough was enough I caught a look at that mob of rocks standing up south of us. He must of saw me hesitate.

  First time I saw those stones, lad, I thought they were people.

  Me too, I thought, but I was buggered if I was saying so.

  Got the shock of the ages, Jaxie. I was lonely as I ever was in my life, and the sight of them – well, it was like being struck by lightning. For a moment or two I was overjoyed, you know, as if here was company at last, maybe even deliverance. And then I thought, Oh God, here they come. This is it, the end – they’ve sent a veritable army to see me off. What a gobshite, eh boy? The arrogance of the old Fintan MacGillis! As if Rome would need a battalion to extinguish the likes of me.

  I didn’t say nothing to that. Plain fact is I wasn’t following at all.

  But now, he said, when I catch a glimpse of them out there, those stones, there’s a certain reassurance in them. They’re company in their way.

  So you like it here, I said.

  Oh, I’ve come to terms. After my own fashion.

  But you’re a prisoner.

  Well, not exactly.

  Why don’t you leave then? No one to stop you.

  Have you seen what’s out there, lad? I crossed the lake once, from curiosity and desperation. Beyond the farther shore it’s desert, you know. A man’d be walking into fire, no less. There was a time in the early days I hauled myself west to the highway, and nearly died of it. Sat down in the shade at the roadside and thought, How will I account for myself, what will I say to whoever comes along? I’ve no papers, no passport, no money, no real idea where I am, even. Besides, I’m too old for running away, Jaxie. Where would I go? At home there’s no one left who’ll have me. And out here I’m an alien.

  How d’you mean?

  A stranger, boy, an exile. I’m lost to my own – I have nobody.

  But the people who come with food?

  Ah. Well, now.

  They’re family?

  Well, once I might have thought so. But no, what they bring is not so much solicitude as sustenance. Not to mention surveillance.

  So they’re cops. And this is what, witness protection?

  The old man looked at me and smiled. Well, lad, nobody’s ever put it that way, but you’re not so far from the mark.

  I don’t get it.

  Only out here it’s the perpetrator who’s witness to his own deeds.

  Say that in English.

  Well, he said. In plain terms, this is protection for the guilty.

  You mean you?

  Aye. And them, the same. Only for them it’s me who’s the awkward problem, because of what I know as much as what I’ve done.

  Jesus, I said. Don’t tell me.

  Believe me, boy, I have not the slightest intention.

  I thought about this a moment. But I had too many half-baked ideas going through me head to get anywhere with it.

  They make you wear a GPS tracker?

  No, he said. Nothing like that.

  These people who come —

  It’s just the one fella.

  When he comes out here, how long’s he stay?

  Oh, he never stays, never can, never will.

  So he’s not a mate then.

  He’s doing his job, Jaxie. He brings me supplies and offers me a certain comfort and I send him away unrequited.

  Whoa, I said. I didn’t like the sound of that.

  He has to offer the sacrament of Reconciliation, lad. That’s his job.

  What?

  It’s what we do.

  We?

  I take it you’re not a Catholic, then?

  No, I said stepping even further away from him without thinking about it. I don’t go in for shit like that.

  Yes, I forgot: you’re the wild colonial boy.

  And it was like I seen him for the first time. Fuck me, I’d been watching him a whole night and day trying to figure the old prick out and it was only now I copped on to what he was.

  You said something about your mum, I said.

  She’s passed, poor darling.

  But she sent you somewhere. You said she sent you off.

  Oh, he said. School. And then the seminary after it.

  Seminary.

  Do you not know the word?

  I turned right there and then and headed back for the shore. I know what it fucking means, I said over me shoulder.

  Jaxie!

  I ran for a bit. Right into the setting sun. But the salt surface was iffy and I had no puff in me. So I settled for walking hard as I could for the shepherd’s hut and all me stuff. He kept calling and yelling behind me but I wasn’t having any of it. I couldn’t fucking believe I’d walked into this setup like a retard. I was that angry with meself I could of bitten off me own face in the mirror.

  First thing I grabbed when I got back was the Browning. Then the clip. After that the waterjug and me pack with the salt and the rest of the ammo in it. I had to make sure everything was still inside, I couldn’t go back into the bush without them boxes of shells, but by the time I had me ducks in a row the old man was in the yard.

  I jacked a round up the spout and come out the doorway with me gear on and the barrel pointed his way. He pulled up short with his specs all crooked and put his hands up like some gumby in the movies. But even with a gun levelled at him he didn’t stop talking.

  Don’t go, lad. You’ve got ahold of the wrong idea.

  You’re one of them priests aren’t you?

  A priest, yes. But it’s not what you think.

  They’re fucking hiding you here.

  I can’t deny it. But it’s not for what you may be thinking.

  For what then?

  Lad, I just can’t tell you.

  Not even if I blow your foot off ?

  Jaxie, please, lad. I’m not like you. I’m not a brave man.

  Just tell me.

  It’s not possible. I can’t.

  You can’t even fucking say it can you? Jesus Christ, I could kill you right now.

  Aye, you could, Jaxie. I see it.

  There’s mineshafts all out here, I said. No bastard would ever find you.

  True enough. But you’d be making a grievous mistake.

  Doing the world a bloody favour more like.

  Perhaps. But not yourself. Believe me, lad, there’s some mistakes you don’t come back from.

  You’re fucking scum.

  I am that.

  Fucking hell, how do you even live with yourself?

  His specs hung off one ear by now. And in the end the old bastard was shaking so much they peeled off him altogether and fell to the dirt.

  How indeed, was all he said.

  And the thing is I knew I was never gunna shoot Fintan MacGillis. But the way his legs got the wobbles it looked to me he wasn’t so sure. He started sucking in breath and whispering shit and I felt fully ashamed of both of us.

  Jesus, I said. Pick up your glasses. I’m not gunna shoot you.

  The old prick was halfway to blubbing when I thumbed the mag off and eased the shell out and hung the rifle over me shoulder. It took two goes for him to get his specs back on his face and then he couldn’t even look at me when he said thank you.

  I’m off, I said.

  It’ll be dark soon.

  I can live with it.

  Then take the bedroll, he said. I have no need of it.

  I can’t carry it.

  Well, you’re welcome to come back for it.

  I don’t think so.

  Did you take meat?

  No, I said. I’m not a thief.

  Well, do take some. Please. I’ll get you a bag.

  I stood out in the yard while he went inside. The sun was on the ridge already and a couple of butcherbirds were doing their sorry-sounding call. And that’s when I thought of his knives and the steel. All I had was the poxy little butterknife.

  When I come in the door
way the old priest jerked back from the meatsafe like I was about to clout him. He had a tin plate full of goat in his hands and an empty flourbag was out on the table. He’d had enough time in there to get his shotgun and a coupla shells together but he hadn’t gone for them.

  Just tell me, I said. I won’t shoot you for it.

  I’m not a rapist, the old man said. I am not a paedophile.

  But you’re something.

  I am.

  When you looked at Fintan MacGillis he could have been anything, a science teacher maybe. Or a bloke who sniffs bicycle seats. I didn’t know what to believe.

  So what’s reconciliation? I said. I thought that was for Abos.

  A sacrament, said Fintan MacGillis. It’s what we used to call Confession.

  But you won’t do it?

  He shook his head.

  Fuck, I don’t get you people.

  Well, Jaxie. That’s two of us.

  Pedos lie all the time.

  I believe so.

  If you was a fiddler you’d probably lie about it.

  I imagine so. Yes.

  He started dumping the whole plate’s worth into the bag and I told him I wasn’t wanting to take all his meat so he pulled out a few chops and set them back on the plate and wound up the bag. His hands shook and he was clumsy with it so it still felt like I was robbing him. I didn’t enjoy the feeling. But the whole scene was starting to make me want to yack so I took the bag and told him goodbye. Then I went out to the tank and filled me jug and he come and stood close enough to give me the creeps.

  I wish you’d stay, he said. Really, I do.

  Yeah, I thought. I’ll bloody bet you do. But I didn’t say it. I told him thanks for the food and picked up me waterjug and got going.

  I didn’t get far before dark. There was no way I was going to even make it back down the lake and to the salmon gums without having to feel me way there like a blind bastard. So I walked straight out behind the shepherd’s hut and hauled up into the stony terraces where the gimlets and bluebush were thick enough to hide me. And while it was just light enough to see I found a soft scrape under a kurrajong and got meself settled for the night.

  I didn’t light a fire. And I was pretty rooted but I didn’t sleep right off. I was still stirred up from things back there. I’d never pointed a firearm at a human being before. It’s a fucking low thing to do if you’re not scared for your life. And there was still this tingling in me legs and arms like something electric, like every bit of me knew what I done and was horrifed.

  For a long time I wondered what woulda happened if I went ahead and shot Fintan MacGillis. All the big talk about mineshafts. When the closest diggings were a whole day’s walk away. How did I figure I was gunna carry a dead body all that distance? Chop him up and cart him in three trips, push his carcase cross-country in that wheelbarrow?

  Thing is, the old dude had only been decent to me. He give me food and water. Could be that was all to soften me up so he could get his priesty hands on me but the worst thing he done was talk me ear off. So I was a bit disgusted about waving a gun in his face. Even if he was a pervert it couldn’t be right to just go ahead and kill him.

  Then I got to wondering, if he wasn’t a pedo like he said, what could they be hiding him for, what would be the use? Jesus, two days ago this country was lonely as Mars, now it felt crowded as a city.

  So I sat up for ages. I could see the lake pretty good and I could watch the tiny light in the hut. There was a fingernail moon for a while but it went down behind me. Pretty late the hut light went out and there was nothing but the glow of the salt.

  It was warmer out that night. The wind come round to the north and the air was kind of sticky. Everything was quiet, so quiet you could hear a kind of background hum. Like everything was asleep but the world was still running, giving off a noise you can’t be sure you’re really hearing. Like them bees last year in the lightning tree. The burr they made, it was so low and deep down I didn’t even know I was hearing it at first.

  It was about Anzac Day I reckon, when we noticed the swarm. There’s a tree got split by lightning in a storm once and the bees found it and moved in, and after a few weeks the whole yard smelled of honey. It was only then we started to hear them, and for a while it was all Mum would talk about. She said the smell was divine but she worried about bees coming in the house. It wasn’t that she was allergic but she said bees didn’t belong inside. Said maybe something should be done. Which meant something should be done by me or the Cap. Wankbag ignored her. Didn’t wanna know.

  But I was into the bees. She was right about the smell, it was like someone baking every day. And when you got up close to the hive you could feel the heat of them in the tree trunk and the drone was like a chiller room running, I could hear it from me bedroom. Every night at tea Mum says those bees are still there, love, we should do something. But we just eat our chops and watch the telly. Then maybe she rung him at work or something, nagged him so hard he had a gutful. If she did it’s a wonder she didn’t cop a flogging. But something must of happened because one night the old man comes home from work with a jerry can. Goes straight out the back before tea. And when he come in his arms were stung to fuck and all his fingers were fatter than the sausages on his plate, but he et and watched the news like it was just another night of Happy Families. Mum got her long face on and said nothing. When tea was finished I went out for a look and Mum come out behind me. We just give each other a glance and went in to do the dishes. Wankbag was still at the table pretending to watch the telly. You could see he was waiting for one of us to pipe up about the oily diesel stink and the million crawling bees on the back lawn but we knew better than that, Mum and me. That night in bed I thought I heard that bee hum still going but it was just how angry I was. Some nights there was so much feeling in me head I was glad it couldn’t get out. Christ, you could burn a skyscraper down with what’s in me. Anyway I spose I dropped off laying there in the powdery dirt under the kurrajong tree listening to that faraway hum, thinking about bees.

  I woke up a long time before dawn. Saw the stars through the branches. And remembered how once I saw the moons of Jupiter through the binoculars. A teacher said you could but to me that sounded like typical bullshit. Anyway I tried it and bugger me it was true. I found the Beehive Cluster too. That teacher had a telescope. And he said one day I could look through it but I was always on detention and soon he moved on. After that I wanted a telescope pretty bad but there was no way. Still, it was cool seeing stuff through binocs. A coupla times me and Lee climbed up on the shed roof at night. We looked at Orion’s Belt and the Milky Way and that was some stoner shit to see.

  The first time you really get the sky, when you see that the moons and planets are places, it nearly takes the top of your head off. Heavenly bodies. The stars, you know, they’re pretty to see but it’s the idea of them really out there, living and dying, that’s even more killer. After a rugged day I guess it’s a nice thing to close your eyes on, thinking of that. So I wriggled down into the dirt a bit, felt meself tipping back to sleep.

  But then I sat up cold and awake.

  The binoculars.

  I felt round me neck. I groped in the backpack. But I already knew they wouldn’t be there. I knew exactly where they were. Bloody things, I’d left them on the old man’s table.

  I wanted to up stumps and go get them glasses straight away. But I figured this time of night that was a good way to get me head blown off. So I sat up till I could feel the first grey light and then I got me clobber together and traipsed back down to the lake.

  Before I even saw the hut I smelt his fire. I come down through the saltbush and the wattles and followed the track in and there he was, sat by the flames. When he saw me I pulled up and give a wave but he went inside. I wondered if he’d come back out with the .410 but it was only another pannikin he had in his hand when he showed again, and by the time I got there he had it steaming full and waiting for me.

  Morning, he said
.

  G’day, I told him.

  Those binoculars, he said. They’re in on the table.

  I just nodded. I shrugged off all me kit and sat on the milk crate he put out.

  Here’s to ye, he said, holding up his own pannikin.

  Yeah, I said. Ta.

  It was quiet with us a minute. Like we was both embarrassed. Then he piped up and said he’d make damper but I told him I still had the meat he give me yesterday, so we grilled it on an old fridge rack over the coals. It was more than we could eat right there and then and I offered to put the rest in the meatsafe but he told me to keep it for the hike back. I wrapped it in the flourbag and shoved it in me pack. The whole time he stayed quiet. I figured I’d put the wind up him yesterday and I probably should say something about it but I couldn’t get started.

  There was a burr in me sock so I took the boot off and then the sock. And it felt so good to have me foot free in the air I took the other one off as well and squished me toes in the warm dirt. It was nice there in the morning sun. With the smoke and the steamy tea and the taste of fat and sugar staying on in me mouth. I told meself in a sec I was gunna go in and get them binocs. Then pull all me crap on and get going.

  You ever seen a dead body? I asked him. And I dunno why I did. Except I was comfy there and putting off leaving. And maybe to show him no hard feelings.

  Fintan didn’t look up from the fire. He hoiked his dregs over one shoulder.

  Aye, he said. I’ve seen the dead.

  It’s awful.

  Yes, every time.

  You think there’s people you wouldn’t mind seeing dead, I heard meself say. But when you see it.

  Aye, it’s a horror.

  I haven’t killed anybody, I told him. I know you think I did. But I haven’t.

  It’s a good thing you left those binoculars, he said. You’ll be needing some stores.

  Nah, I’m orright.

  You have tea and sugar?

  I shook me head.

  Flour? Paraffin? Soap? Vegetables?

  I’ll get by.

  With a fecking butterknife, now?

  I sat back then. And he give me a quick glance and pushed his specs up his nose.