Red Dust

by Fleur McDonald

  'Want to try and take the dogs?' Craig whispered after they were out in the open again.

  'No bloody way! They're vicious those things. Nup. We'll go back to camp and leave the scene the way it is at the moment. I don't want to alert whoever owns those dogs that they've been found. When we go in, the Pirie boys will have to bring a dog handler with them and they can check for fingerprints then. C'mon, let's get back to base camp.'

  'Wait, Dave, I've got an idea. Why don't we watch the area? Let me do some surveillance on it tomorrow to see if anyone rocks up to feed the dogs.'

  'You know, you might have something there. We've got the video and photos, so if there is some sort of stuff-up, at least we've got visual evidence. Yeah, let me sleep on it and we'll make a final call in the morning. How's that?'

  'No worries.' Craig was happy as they followed the GPS signal back to camp. He loved this part of the job.

  Chapter 24

  Gemma opened her eyes sleepily and looked at her clock. It was 5 am. Man, she was tired. Shearing was always exhausting and combined with everything else that was going on she could barely keep her eyes open by the end of the day. She'd cleaned up the mess she'd made in her frantic search when she'd returned home after shearing yesterday, and had decided to get up early to try the ceiling.

  Heaving herself out of bed, she quickly dressed and headed for the kitchen. After a hit of caffeine she went to the lounge room.

  Taking a deep breath she climbed the ladder to the man hole, clutching a torch in one hand. She pushed at the manhole cover. Stuck. She pushed again and it moved, releasing a pile of dust onto her hair. She climbed to the topmost rung of the ladder and peered into the darkness. Her torch lit up spider webs and dust. It didn't look like anyone had been here for years. Gemma climbed down, blinking back tears of frustration. Another dead end.

  Dave had decided to go with Craig's surveillance plan, so early morning found Craig camped under a river red gum about a hundred metres away from the clearing, with food, a two-way radio, a camera with a zoom lens, and a video camera. In the pockets of his overalls he also had an evidence kit.

  Craig looked around carefully, then stood up and stretched. It was time to go stake out the clearing.

  Craig moved slowly out of his hiding spot and made his way towards an outcrop of bush. On the other side of a stand of cassia trees and black oaks he found a sheep track. The path looked well worn and Craig surmised that either sheep walked through here quite often or whoever was feeding the dogs came in this way, not breaking through the scrub like he and Dave had the night before. Ducking under branches he followed the path until he came to the clearing. He was grateful for the breeze blowing his scent away from the dogs who slept on, seemingly unaware of his presence.

  Craig scanned the area for a hiding place. Seeing a clump of saltbush plants off the track, he moved behind the thick vegetation. Satisfied he was now well hidden from all angles, he got out his camera and waited.

  Sometime later Craig jerked awake. Shit. He looked at his watch. Midday. He saw the dogs were now sitting up to attention, their ears cocked as though they were listening. Straining his ears, Craig wished his hearing was as good as theirs. At last he thought he heard the growl of a motorbike. He clicked his radio button twice, paused, and then clicked twice again, signalling to Dave that the job was on. Hardly daring to breathe in case the dogs heard, Craig picked up his camera and held it ready, hoping to get photos of the whole encounter.

  The motorbike roared closer and the dogs began to bark in welcome. 'Shuddup, ya mongrels.'

  Craig's heart pounded at the voice. It was Jack Marshall.

  'How many bloody times have I told ya to shuddup,' he snapped. As Jack came into view, Craig started clicking madly, hoping desperately that Jack wouldn't let the dogs off for a quick run. He had a cigarette in his mouth and was carrying a white garbage bag that looked like it was leaking blood. Ducking under a branch, he passed Craig's hiding spot. The dogs were straining at their chains, whining in anticipation.

  'What's goin' on?' He put the bag down and bestowed a whack that was supposed to be a pat on each head. Jack opened the bag and took out two hind legs from a sheep, still covered in wool. Craig zoomed in. Maybe he was killing Billbinya's sheep for dog tucker as well as stealing.

  'You're a bit lucky,' Jack was saying to the dogs. 'Wouldn't have got out here today if it wasn't for a problem with the fence between here and the neighbours. The widow wanted me to check it out so I thought I'd feed ya since I was out 'ere. Strung up one of the wethers for ya on the way.'

  The dogs were dribbling with expectation and finally Jack threw the meat to them. He wadded up the plastic bag and stuffed it in his coat pocket. Checking their water he looked around. Happy that everything seemed to be as he left it, he grabbed the half-empty bottle of rum and took a couple of swigs.

  'Catch ya, boys,' he said as he stubbed out the cigarette on top of the kennels.

  Craig had caught the whole scene on camera. 'You're gone, buddy,' he thought as Jack glided through the bush and out of sight. As soon as he heard the bike roar away he got to his feet, knees cracking.

  Back at his base by the creek he called Dave on the CB.

  'When you're ready, mate,' he said, and settled under a tree to wait for his ride.

  Gemma felt the wind pick up and looked across the sky. Towards the north thundery clouds were building. She yelled to Bulla, who was working in the yards, 'Reckon we'll get a storm?'

  Bulla scanned the sky and nodded. 'Might do. Let's get these shornies up closer to the shed in case.'

  Shifting the sheep that had been back-lined into the race leading under the shed, she went back to finish the ones that still needed spraying. She heard and smelled the rain before she felt it. When Gemma scanned the horizon, she could see the rain pouring down in columns, moving quite quickly towards the yards. A loud crack of thunder galvanised them into action. Bulla jumped over the sheep yards in a bound and ran towards the sheep, whistling at his dogs as he went.

  'C'mon, Roady, go back,' he commanded.

  Gemma called Scoota to her, knowing he'd be in the way, and sprinted to open the gate so the sheep could flow freely under the shed. The bewildered sheep baulked at running into the darkness but, with Roady's gentle persuasion, started trickling under slowly. By the time the sheep were under the shed both Bulla and Gemma were soaking wet, the rain still pelting down. They both dashed for the shelter of the shearing shed.

  There were only three sheep left in each pen and the shearers had downed tools to watch the storm.

  'Good thing it's Friday afternoon, hey, Gem?' Kenny said as she walked in. Gemma wiped the rain out of her eyes, swept her soaked hair back off her face and grinned. 'I'm never going to say no to rain, mate,' she said.

  The shearers tore themselves away from the window and picked up their handpieces again.

  'The creeks'll come down,' shouted Buster. 'We should get finished and get goin' or we'll be stuck here for the weekend.'

  'We'll be able to get out tomorrow if we can't go tonight.' Paula shrugged. 'Cookie'll have enough food for us all.'

  'Bull, want to grab a couple of cartons of beer out of the coolroom? I reckon these guys can have a wet day cut-out since it looks like they might be stuck for the night.'

  'No worries.'

  'Better check that Jack and Gaz are okay, too. Jack'll be drenched on the bike.'

  Bulla brought back two cartons of beer just as Jamie pushed the last sheep down the shoot. Everyone made a beeline for the carton and then to the window to watch the rain that had subsided into a slow drizzle. Gemma shivered and pulled her jumper closer to her chest. It had become quite cold with the change. She cracked her beer and held it up. 'Hey, listen up, you feral lot. Here's to a great week's shearing and a better one to come. Thanks to the Big Fella upstairs for the rain.'

  'Hear hear,' everyone yelled. Lisa reached over to the radio and turned up the volume. Kenny and Buster looked at each other and groaned. The
three youths who Gemma had thought looked like shady characters decided to brave the rain and go to the pub in Dawns Rest, but the rest of the crew were happy to kick back at Billbinya.

  Before long everyone was laughing and talking loudly and Gemma felt her cheeks begin to grow warm from the alcohol. Jack and Garry had joined the impromptu party, both wet from running through the rain.

  Lisa suddenly grabbed a paddle and yelled into it. 'Okay, everyone, welcome to Billbinya Shearing Shed Idol. Thanks to our judges, Buster, Garry and Jackie, you'll be scored out of ten. The rules are everyone has to sing to a song that comes on the radio, or you can choose a CD.'

  She was drowned out by cries of dismay. 'I'm not doing that.' 'Bloody stupid woman.' 'Get a life, would ya?' 'On ya horse.'

  Gemma stood up, laughing. 'Ah, come on, ya wusses, have a go, I've got some CDs in the ute. I'll grab them and you can decide which songs you're gonna try and kill,' she said and disappeared out the door.

  'Woo hoo,' yelled Lisa. All the others looked at each other in horror. Lisa sidled up to Kenny. 'Watchya gonna sing, big fella?'

  Kenny looked at her, bemused. 'You're bloody mad, woman.'

  'Oh, have another beer. Hey, Jamie, I reckon Chisel should be up your alley!'

  'Oh yeah, and what are you gonna sing, songbird?' he yelled back. Lisa bopped over to the carton of beer and grabbed a sixpack. Handing a beer to everyone she said, 'Here's some Dutch courage. Drink up!'

  By the time Lisa had belted out a surprisingly tuneful rendition of Melissa Etheridge's 'Romeo' and Kenny had received twelve out of ten for his deep melodic version of 'Old Rusty Ute' by John O'Dea, Jack was on his seventh beer. He'd been watching Lisa. She'd be all right in the sack, he thought, legs were pretty tight. Not a patch on Gemma though.

  He looked at Gemma, whose face was glowing with laughter and beer. Her hair had long since dried and she'd taken it out of its ponytail. It hung over her back and Jack could imagine it tickling his face. Tonight, he thought. Tonight he'd make a move. Then he could check the steers, see if the stock squad had found them, and head to the young jillaroo's place. He'd hole up there for the weekend. But before all that, Gemma was gonna be his tonight.

  Idol continued while the beer flowed. Eventually, after much indecision, Kenny was awarded a sixpack of beer and declared Billbinya's Idol, and it was time for a feed.

  The hungry hordes made their way to the shearers' quarters for some tea, with Gemma and the Billbinya stockmen invited by Helen to join them.

  An hour later, full and content, Gemma stood to go home. She'd had more than her fair share of beer, fun and food. It was definitely time for bed.

  'Catch ya in the morning, guys. We'll check the creek out and see if you can get through.' She left to a chorus of goodnights.

  No one noticed Jack slip out behind her.

  Chapter 25

  Dave and Craig had been battling the elements. It was nearly 9 pm and they had just made it to the track that led to the Billbinya homestead. After Dave had picked up Craig and looked at the photos, they talked about the startling discovery Dave had made earlier in the day. Sitting around the fire having afternoon smoko, he relayed how he'd found some cattle that looked out of place.

  'The problem seems to be up on the boundary paddock,' Dave said. 'I've found one hundred and fifteen Hereford steers. Now, as we know, Gemma only runs Angus cattle. I've been over the map that Bulla gave us and there's nothing to indicate that there should be Hereford cattle here. The earmark is different, too. I need to talk to the Department of Ag and get access to the stock brands register. I want to find out who owns those steers.'

  'Let's go and have a look,' Craig said. They packed up their camp, and drove towards the boundary paddock.

  As they drove around the Herefords Craig saw what Dave had been talking about. They definitely didn't belong to Billbinya.

  'Gemma would have said if she'd bought in cattle recently, wouldn't she?' Craig asked.

  'Yeah, I reckon she would have.'

  'Well, let's muster them into the cattle yards now. We'll confront her with them tomorrow.'

  Dave scanned the sky. 'Dunno, that's a pretty black cloud over on the horizon. We could be in for a storm.' Craig waited for Dave to make the decision. 'Ah, we might as well, I guess. The cattle yards are only in the next paddock, aren't they?'

  Craig nodded.

  'Righto. Let's get the quad off the trailer and you can start the muster while I go open the gates.'

  Craig rode until he reached the fence then started to circumnavi gate the paddock, keeping an eye on the storm clouds building on the horizon. The light had started to fade as he gathered the cattle into a mob. The steers were skittish and anxious and started to run in the opposite direction. They weren't keen on the noise the bike made but Craig had managed to contain them. With Dave back from opening the gates and flanking one side, they carefully drove them towards the yards. A big gust of wind blew and then the wind whipped up in earnest. As the rain started to fall, the cattle tried to canter away from the men. Craig, knowing if they lost the mob now they would be harder to muster the next time, revved the bike and stood up on the foot pegs as he cracked his whip. He managed to get the cattle turned and headed back towards the yards. Running now, the cattle didn't realise they were caught until the two men had herded them into the yards and the gate clanged shut. Dave wrapped a chain around the gates, padlocked it with a stock squad padlock, and then stretched yellow crime-scene tape around the yards. Craig pushed the cattle into a covered pen that had a trough and an old bale of hay. In the morning they'd send a truck to take the cattle to the closest sale yards for safekeeping.

  The rain was pelting down, stinging Craig's face. After a shouted conversation, they decided to leave the bike under a tree near the yards and head straight back to the homestead in the four-wheel drive. They would have to be quick in case any of the creeks came down.

  As it happened they didn't make it in time to avoid the last creek running. They sat on the edge for a couple of hours waiting for the waters to subside, watching the muddy water swirl around the bottoms of the river red gums and surge past them. Once it had fallen slightly, Craig, since he was wet already, tested the depth of the creek by walking slowly out into it. Satisfied that they could get through, and not really wanting to spend the night on the creek's edge, they inched their way through the gushing waters and then along the muddy, slippery tracks. When they arrived at the homestead, they were surprised to find lights blazing everywhere and Bulla and Garry backing the utes out of the shed.

  What the hell is going on here? Dave wondered.

  Jack listened outside Gemma's bedroom window. He realised she was going for a shower and quietly made his way around to the kitchen door to let himself inside. Sliding through the darkness of the kitchen and into the lounge room, he positioned himself so he could see every move Gemma made when she came out. In the darkness he waited, breathing quickly with need. He almost groaned out loud when he saw Gemma move into the passage, naked and drying her hair with a towel. When she got into the bedroom, he watched her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her hair and rubbed moisturiser into her hands, legs and face before pulling on a nightgown. When she walked into the kitchen to get a drink, he moved into the light and said, 'Hello, Gemma.'

  Spinning around to see whose voice had come out of the darkness, Gemma let out a little scream. 'Shit, Jack, you scared the crap out of me. What's wrong? Is there a problem?'

  'Yeah, you could say that,' he said, one hand stroking the bulge in his jeans.

  Startled, Gemma's eyes flew to his movement. Then she bolted for the door with Jack at her heels.

  * * *

  Bulla saw Dave and Craig pull up and flew out of his ute to talk to them.

  'Gemma's been attacked!' he yelled. 'She's in the shearers' kitchen with Helen and Lisa. It was Jack, the bastard. He's bashed her good and proper and shot through. We're all going out looking for him.'

  Dave and Craig looked at
each other.

  'I'll check everything out here,' Dave said quietly. 'You find out what is going on in the quarters.' Craig nodded, and they both got out of the car.

  Dave walked over to Bulla and Garry, who were obviously shocked and distressed. 'Okay, calm down and tell me what you know.'

  'Calm down? Get stuffed, we need to get out there and look for him. He'll be gone otherwise.' Bulla moved towards his ute.

  'Bulla?' Dave's tone was firm. 'How about we let the coppers do that, okay? You tell me what's happened and I'll get some Pirie uniforms out here pronto.'