Another tall, thin man was chopping up a dead kangaroo with an axe. The scene looked like something from hell, with blood and guts flying everywhere. Three tan-and-white hounds were salivating over the carcass, snarling and snapping at each other, leaping back in fright every time the axe came thudding down. Another man lay slumped against the side of the hut.
The cows started to spill into the clearing and Dusty backed up the Snow Pony to let them pass to the yards. They snorted and spooked at the mayhem in front of the hut, and trotted quickly through the open slip rails into the big yard – a paddock really, carpeted with clover and sheltered by snow gums.
As they ran past her dancing horse, Dusty noticed a fourth person sitting in the front of the hunter’s truck. The door was open and she sat sideways, her feet resting on the running board. A lanky deerhound sprawled over her lap and he looked as frightened as the girl.
She’s been crying, thought Dusty, then realised the girl was staring back at her. She smiled at Dusty, a small frightened smile, and Dusty smiled back. It was Jade! Jade from school and the purple crystal tent. She looked so different in this strange environment that Dusty hardly recognised her.
The hounds began to bay, like prophets of doom. Dusty looked away from Jade and saw Jack and Stewie ride into the clearing. Digger and Spike were backed up under the horses, hackles up, as the hounds rushed and snarled at them. Spike, with his paw still strapped up, was vulnerable and knew it. He was yelping with fear. Jack lashed the hounds with his whip, cursing them, and finally the thin man looked up from the kangaroo carcass and called them to heel.
Stewie’s face was ashen as he rode past Dusty. Captain looked like a warhorse, his mighty neck arched and his massive hooves thudding a staccato rhythm. Jack’s face was grim. He didn’t deign to look at the hunters, just nodded to Dusty and followed the last cows to the yards.
He had just swung the slip rails into place, Drover moving sideways with neat little steps, when the afternoon exploded in a barrage of shots. The two men had followed Jack to the yards and leant against the tangle of silver rails, shooting into the air and howling like idiots. The horses bucked and shied, spinning frantically. Captain backed into the truck, then shot forward with a leap that flung Stewie out of the saddle. Dusty was fighting to control the Snow Pony, but as the world swirled crazily around her she saw her brother hit the ground with a sickening thud and lie as still and flat as a wet bag.
Captain thundered past the hut, stumbling on a swag and kicking the esky. The hounds milled around, baying, and Spike and Digger barked like lunatics. It was bedlam. The Snow Pony stopped spinning for a moment and Dusty threw her right leg over the pommel of the saddle and leapt off. She hit the ground running and raced to Stewie, but Jade was already there, cradling his head in her lap.
‘He’s all right, I think.’ She looked at Dusty desperately, then back at Stew. ‘You’re all right, aren’t you, mate?’
Stewie nodded groggily but his face was drained of colour. The girl’s face was the same; white as a sheet.
Spike squirmed between them, looking for protection, and Dusty unbuckled his collar to release his paw. The shooting stopped. Dusty looked across to the yards, wondering what was going to happen next. The cattle had rushed into the far corner and milled there in a mad crush.
The hunters grinned stupidly as Jack rode up to them. He looked like Clint Eastwood, thought Dusty, in one of those cowboy movies where he tells the bad guys to get out and stay out. And that’s what he did. Dusty couldn’t hear what he said, his voice was so low, but he had a fierce authority about him that spoke louder than words. He stared down from his fidgeting horse and told them to go. The skinny one with the scary eyes started to say something, but the other one, Fatso, pulled him away from the fence and they turned back to their truck.
Dusty couldn’t believe that her father could control the situation like this, without raising his voice or even getting off his horse. Maybe it was because he was on horseback that they obeyed him, she thought. He looked right at home, as though this was his place and he was the boss.
He rode over to where Dusty and Jade knelt over Stewie, dismounted and gave Dusty his reins. ‘How are you, mate?’ he asked Stewie tenderly. The girl started to say something, but Jack cut her off. ‘Just go. Get that idiot,’ he motioned with a toss of his head at the young man slumped against the hut, ‘and get out of here. You and your mates have done enough damage.’ He gathered Stewie in his arms and carried him to the hut, pushing the door open with one leg and stepping through sideways.
Dusty caught the other horses and tied them up at the back of the hut. Jack had added a lean-to stable there when he was a young man, so the horses could have shelter when the weather got bad. They would be glad of it tonight. It was freezing already. When she walked around to the front of the hut the hunters had loaded their gear into the troop carrier, and everything looked less crazy. The two older men lifted the unconscious boy, one by the shoulders and the other by the feet, and half-carried, half-dragged him to the truck. Jade was sobbing wretchedly.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ Dusty asked. ‘Is he hurt?’
‘No.’ Her voice was bitter between the sobs. ‘He’s just pissed. He’s rotten drunk.’
They flung him into the back of the truck carelessly – the way you’d throw a bag of chaff, thought Dusty – then called the hounds to jump in after him. The deerhound wouldn’t jump in. He was a young dog and obviously terrified of the others. He kept ducking under the truck until the skinny man caught him by his collar, hurled him up in one vicious swing, thudding against the inside of the truck, then slammed the door. The growls and terrified yelps told Dusty that he got the beating he was expecting from the hounds. Then there was silence.
She looked at Jade, standing alone between the truck and the hut, with her arms crossed over her chest. She wanted to talk to her, to ask her if she was all right, but just then Jack came out of the hut. He strode to the truck, and now that he was standing next to the hunters it seemed even more incredible that they had bowed to his orders. He was not a big man, neither tall nor heavy, and the fat hunter towered over him. The authority was still there, though. He was the boss.
‘Get right off the plains tonight. It’s going to snow, and snow plenty. You keep driving until you get to Banjo, you understand. And don’t ever come back here.’
Dusty thought Fatso was going to apologise for a moment, but the skinny one laughed scornfully and wrenched open the passenger-side door.
‘Get in the truck!’ he yelled at Jade, who moved across the clearing like a zombie and climbed in. He jumped in beside her and slammed the door. ‘Come on, Horse!’ He held the horn down, filling the afternoon with its manic blare, until Fatso climbed behind the steering wheel, started the engine and drove away.
The high-pitched whine of the motor, moving up and down through the gear changes as the truck wound up the ridge, took a long time to fade to nothing. Dusty looked at her father. It was hard to believe what had happened, now the intruders had gone. As they stood there, a last ray of sunlight shot through a gap in the clouds and lit up the far side of the clearing. The trees were suddenly bronze, glowing against the murky purple sky behind them.
‘Look, Dad!’ As suddenly as it had come, the light was gone and everything was grey again. Jack put his arm around her shoulders and, without any warning, Dusty burst into tears – not little weepy tears but great wrenching sobs that hurt her throat. Jack passed her a handkerchief and patted her back.
‘It’s all right, mate. They’ve gone now. We’re all okay, and I’m proud of you.’
No, I’m proud of you, thought Dusty, smiling at how much she had longed to hear him say those very words. She knew she wasn’t just crying about what had just happened. She was crying for the last twelve months.
She went inside, still sniffing, and lit the fire while Jack fed and rugged the horses. Stewie was a silent lump on the bottom bunk, but as she positioned the billy over the flames a small
voice came across the room.
‘Is that you, Dad?’
Dusty went over and sat on the edge of the bunk. ‘No, it’s me. How are you feeling?’
Stewie sat up and felt his head. ‘Good. I don’t think I hit my head. I think I was just winded. What happened?’
‘Dad told them to go.’ Dusty smiled at the memory. ‘And they did. He was fantastic, Stew. I couldn’t hear what he said, but he looked like Clint Eastwood, staring down at them from Drover. They slunk off like dogs.’
Jack came into the hut, pulling the door shut behind him. ‘Digger and Spike are having a feast on that kangaroo. Remind me to tie them up before we go to bed, Dusty. I don’t trust Spike not to go stirring those cows up.’ He looked around the hut. ‘This looks pretty snug. How about you make a cup of tea, Dusty, while I rustle up some dinner? We’ve got snags and spuds and carrots and a tinned plum pudding for afters.’ He smiled across at Stewie. ‘You look good, son. It’s a long way to fall, off a horse as big as Captain.’
Dusty lit some of the candle stubs that sat in waxy saucers, but the main light came from the fire, flickering and golden. A gust of wind swirled around the hut, puffing smoke out of the fireplace and rattling the tin roof. It was going to be a dirty night. Dusty shivered.
‘They won’t come back, will they, Dad?’
Jack shook his head. ‘Not if they’ve got any sense. It’s going to snow tonight for sure.’ He looked up from the fire and saw the worry on her face. ‘What’s wrong?’
Dusty hesitated. ‘I feel sorry for that girl. They were awful men.’
Jack snorted. ‘What are you worrying about her for? She’d be as tough as them. Did you see her clothes? No, she’d be able to handle herself, that one.’
Dusty rolled a piece of warm wax between her fingers. ‘I don’t know. She goes to my school. And I’ve seen her at the show, and at the market in Bankstown. She’s okay. Her mum sells candles and stuff.’ She stared at the flaming wick. ‘You wouldn’t like it if I was up here with two men like that.’ She said the last sentence very quietly and Jack either didn’t hear it, or chose not to reply.
17
Jade’s run
The truck bounced along the track, climbing back up the spur to the high plains, its engine screaming through the gear changes like a devil. They were going way too fast, skidding around corners, thumping into potholes, rocking wildly on the rough track. Neville gripped the handle on the dashboard with one hand and Horse braced himself on the steering wheel, but everything else in the truck was getting bashed to bits. The noise inside the cabin was deafening. Jade was sitting on the toolbox, between the two front seats, and every bump was agony. The hounds yelped as they were flung about the back of the truck. Jade wondered about Travis and hoped his head was on something soft. Then she remembered how he had let her down by drinking himself into oblivion and decided that she didn’t care.
Finally they stopped climbing and came out of the trees on to the high plains. The clouds were very low, hugging the tops of the trees. The landscape looked grey and lonely, just snow grass, rocks and twisted snow gums.
‘I need a beer.’ Horse braked suddenly and got out. Jade could hear him shifting gear in the back to reach the esky.
Neville nudged her with his knee. ‘Get some of this into ya.’ He was holding up the half-empty rum bottle.
Jade turned and looked at him for the first time since they left the hut. He had creepy eyes, like a lizard.
‘No thanks.’
He pressed his knee against her leg again and left it there, an insistent pressure. She twisted in her seat to see if Travis was awake, but he was still out to it, flopped like a dirty rag doll amongst the swags. Horse came back to the front of the car and put a six pack on the floor. He started to get in, then turned away. Jade thought he must have forgotten something, but he didn’t walk to the back of the truck, just fiddled with the front of his clothes and urinated right there beside her. He was so close that Jade could smell the sour odour of his piss. Her stomach turned, not just from the stink, but from the knowledge that this wasn’t right, that he had gone past the point of caring what she thought. She wasn’t Jeannie’s daughter any more, she was just a chick, like all the others they had sniggered about so foully for the last three days.
Her fears were well founded. ‘What more could you want, Nev?’ Horse belched and sniggered as the truck bumped on again. ‘A couple a days of good hunting, plenty of grog, and a good lookin’ sheila.’
Neville swapped the rum bottle to his left hand and put his arm around Jade’s shoulders. Jade looked straight ahead. Just ignore them, she told herself.
‘Yeah, I reckon she’ll do. I like ’em on the young side meself.’ Neville laughed slyly and suddenly reached down and grabbed Jade’s breast. She turned to fight him and he pulled his hand away, then leant back against the door and drained the bottle of rum in one long swallow, watching her all the while with his pale snake eyes. He didn’t take his eyes off her as he tossed the empty bottle out the window and rubbed his hands together. ‘Gunna need two hands for this one I reckon.’ He smiled like a reptile and snapped his fists over Jade’s wrists in a split second. ‘Come here, bitch.’
He pulled her, kicking and screaming, on to his lap, transferred her skinny wrists into one vice-like hand and shoved his free hand up under her shirt.
‘Horse! Help me! Make him stop!’ Jade was screaming and crying at the same time. The truck slowed down.
‘Take it easy, mate,’ she heard Horse say, and felt him tugging at Neville’s arm. ‘She’s only a kid. What are you doing?’
Neville had jammed Jade’s head under the glove box with his leg. She couldn’t see anything apart from the tangled wiring under the dash, but she heard the unmistakable click of a safety catch being released.
‘You just drive the truck, Fatty.’ Neville’s voice was menacing. ‘Drive, and stay out of this or I’ll blow your head off.’
Jade’s mind raced. She had to get away while he only had one hand to hold her. Once he’d put the gun back on the rack she’d have no hope.
‘Let me up,’ she said. ‘I won’t fight.’
Neville shifted his leg so she could sit up. ‘I like a bit of spirit,’ he breathed in her face, so close she could see the spit in the corners of his mouth. He turned to put the gun back and as he did, Jade flung herself out the window, kicking desperately at the same time. She heard a curse of pain as her foot connected with something. His grip on her wrists didn’t shift until the momentum of the truck twisted his arm back and suddenly she was free. The ground knocked the wind out of her and the back wheel of the truck missed her head by inches.
She staggered to her feet as the tail lights glowed red, and stumbled off towards the trees, tripping over the snow grass, breathless and shaking with fear. A shot rang out and she started to run. Suddenly, insanely, she remembered a movie she’d seen once, a comedy, where people being shot at were running across an airstrip, yelling, ‘Serpentine! Serpentine!’ The trees were getting closer and she glanced back over her shoulder. The truck was racing after her like a mad thing, almost airborne as it hit logs and ditches. Horse had turned on the headlights and the artificial light danced against the trees in front of her like a crazy slide show.
Jade ran like a greyhound, past the snow gums on the edge of the plain, jumping logs and rocks, running deeper and deeper into the darkness of the bush until she felt sure she was hidden. She dropped into a hollow behind an old overturned tree and lay low, her breath coming back in long noisy gasps. After a little while she stood up and carefully peered over the log, terrified that she would see Neville with his gun, stalking her through the bush. He hadn’t followed her. Through the trees she could see him in the truck, gun out the window, as Horse drove to and fro along the tree line, trying to spot her. He started to call out. ‘Jade! Come out! I won’t hurt you!’ Jade could hear him laughing. ‘Come here, Jade! Come here, pussy cat! Here pussy, pussy, pussy. Ha ha ha.’ Jade didn’t move. Sud
denly a shot ripped into the trees and he started to shout again. ‘Stay here then, you stupid cow!’ He sounded as if he was frothing at the mouth. ‘Stay here and starve!’
The truck stopped and she could hear him guffawing with Horse, and muttering. Then came a wild yelping as Stringer was flung out the window. ‘Starve with this shit of a dog that you like so much!’
Stringer ran for the trees, and Jade’s heart stopped, waiting for Neville to gun him down, but the shot never came. The truck spun around, revving, and lurched away across the plain, its headlights zigzagging up and down as the vehicle bounced over the snow grass.
Stringer came straight to Jade, crept up to her, and his sad hairy face was so comical she had to smile. She put her arms around him and winced as she felt the pain in her wrists for the first time. The noise of the truck faded to nothing and there was no colour left in the day. Night was falling and she had never felt so cold or so alone. Her arms and legs began to shake violently, in uncontrollable spasms. Her teeth chattered and she cried out, terrified that her body was behaving this way. After a little while the shakes lessened. She took some deep breaths and remembered Jeannie reacting the same way last year, after the milk truck had crashed into their car. ‘It was the shock,’ she explained later; it was just her body reacting to the shock. She wished her mum was with her and started to cry, but then thought about what Jeannie would do, and she forced herself to stand up.
‘Come on, dog,’ she said to Stringer. ‘It’s a long way back to the hut, but that’s where we’ve got to go. That dad looked pretty unfriendly, but I think he’s okay. And I know the girl from school.’
She zipped her jacket up and wished Jeannie had bought her a longer, warmer, more sensible one, instead of a groovy metallic blue crop-top with fake fur around the hood and the cuffs. She pulled the hood over her head, tied the drawstring tight under her chin and felt warmer immediately. When she was little and hated wearing hats, Jeannie was always telling her how important it was to keep her head warm. She could hear her now, using her grannie’s voice, ‘You lose ninety per cent of your body heat through your head, young lady, so get that hat on before I give you Larry Dooley.’
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