‘Precisely,’ said Alicia. ‘She still remembers Joe as the quiet, gentle boy who read poetry and books and loved the peace and solitude of the outback as much as she did. Her memory has kept their love alive through a false sense of romantic loyalty. His memory of her would have been of a skinny sixteen year old careering around on Clipper.’ She dug her hands in her pockets and pulled out a squashed pack of cigarettes. ‘Ellie’s been so wrapped up in her romantic day-dream she hasn’t realised she’s falling for Charlie. Transferring all the love she had for Joe on to his twin.’
Aurelia watched the diminishing figures. ‘I hope you’re wrong.’
*
Ellie was unaware of their concern as she rubbed Clipper’s nose and made a fuss of him. Poor old boy, she thought as she ran her hand over the sway back and bony hindquarters. Won’t be around for much longer. She put a blanket over him and held out the carrots she always brought Chinaman and Clipper each morning. She stroked the grey muzzles as their whiskers tickled the palm of her hand, and laid her cheek on the warm, dusty necks. They were both so old she wasn’t sure they’d still be here when she returned.
Ellie was looking forward to the bullock muster. She’d been cooped up for too long at the homestead, and now Charlie seemed to be finally on the mend, she didn’t feel too guilty at having to leave him behind. She saddled her working horse and handed over the stock ponies to Jacky Jack. The horses were fresh, champing at the bit, propping and dancing in their eagerness to be on the move again after their long spell at grass. The mood in the yard was up-beat, for despite the long hours and arduous work it involved, the annual bullock muster was always a highlight of the year. It paid the wages.
Wang Lee was followed closely by Fu Man Chu as he shuffled across the verandah. He held tightly to the railings as he hobbled down the steps, his tunic and baggy trousers ill-fitting since he’d lost weight. There was no colour in his hair now and the long pigtail was a thin imitation of what it had once been. ‘Wang Lee come say good-bye,’ he puffed. ‘Wish was going on musta like old time.’
Ellie reached down from the saddle and took his hand. She had no idea how old he was, but he was definitely too ancient to risk life and limb on a bullock muster. ‘Take care of yourself, Wang Lee,’ she ordered. ‘And let Charlie do some of the chores. He’s well enough now and you’ve earned a rest.’
The face that looked up at her was as shrivelled as a raisin, yet the eyes were still bright and he’d lost none of his asperity. ‘Charlie no good in kitchen,’ he snapped. ‘Get in way.’ Fu Man Chu danced on his back legs to get attention. ‘Dog betta at cleaning plate.’
She smiled down at them both. ‘See you in about a month,’ she said. ‘Hopefully, by then the war will be over.’
‘Men come home,’ he said with a beaming smile as he lifted Fu Man Chu into his arms and backed away from the prancing horse.
‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘So you’d better get as much rest as you can, ‘cos they’ll need feeding up.’ She smiled, the false brightness more for her own benefit than his as the memory of Joe darkened the early sun.
He scowled. ‘Is good men come home, then Charlie leave,’ he muttered.
Ellie frowned as she tried to control her horse who seemed determined to fidget. ‘Why should Charlie leave?’
Wang Lee shook his head as the little terrier licked his chin. ‘Miss Ellie not see Charlie same as Wang Lee,’ he said mysteriously.
Ellie turned away so he wouldn’t see her smile. Wang Lee was getting fanciful in his old age and must be humoured. Yet a momentary thread of unease ran through her as she looked across and saw Charlie standing tense and watchful on the verandah. Wang Lee had always been astute. What was it he’d seen in Charlie that she’d missed?
She shrugged off the doubts, admitting silently that her emotions were taut, her judgement probably flawed when it came to Joe’s twin. He was good company, and she liked being with him. She smiled and acknowledged his wave before turning back and joining the others who were preparing to leave.
The stock boys let the blue heelers out of their kennel yard and they came flying across to the riders, barking with the sheer joy of freedom. Aurelia cracked her stock whip and silence was immediate. ‘Move ‘em out,’ she boomed.
The dust rose as the horses and dogs crossed the yard and out into the pastures where the long grass sent up the sweet smell of summer. The creak of saddle leather accompanied the stamping hooves, the yap of the dogs almost too sharp for such a soft day-break. Ellie trailed at the back so she could watch the scene – it was one of which she would never tire.
The stockboys were wiry and long-legged, riding easily in the saddle as the laden pack horses strung behind them. Jacky Jack’s face was almost hidden by the brim of his hat, the rooster tail feathers in the plaited hatband riffling in the breeze as he rode the store wagon. The dray pulled the heavy wagon, his feathered fetlocks buried deep in the lush grass, the brasses on his harness jingling pleasantly.
She waved once more to Charlie and let her horse have his head. The sun was already shooting colour into the sky, the mist sparkling like gossamer where it was caught in the tops of the trees. An almost overwhelming sense of well-being flooded through her as she raced to catch the others. It was going to be a beautiful day and Joe’s spirit was riding alongside her.
The country was mustered in sections over the next four weeks, the bullocks drafted out and yarded for the night. As the mob grew to over a thousand head they’d been watched rather than yarded, and this meant the women and the stockmen had to take turns to do night-watch. They were all exhausted. Ellie and her mother were taking their turn on this last night before the drover came to collect the mob and drive them to the meat market. It was a warm night, the sky clear and studded with thousands of stars, the moon a half sixpence of silver.
Ellie yawned. ‘It’s gunna be tough staying awake,’ she muttered. ‘I don’t think I remember being this tired before.’ She looked out over the thousands of cattle that shifted and cropped in the moonlight and heard one of the stock boys singing softly on the far flank. As long as the bullocks were lulled they wouldn’t be frightened by their presence, for they were used to horses and riders after the long days of mustering.
Alicia walked her horse alongside Ellie’s, her hands resting lightly on the pommel. ‘What I wouldn’t give for a feather bed and a large whisky,’ she murmured. ‘It feels as if I’ve been on the back of this horse for the better part of my life.’
Ellie was about to reply when the high-pitched howl of a dingo rent the silence. The cattle shifted, alert and uneasy. The howl was repeated, closer this time, accompanied by the pitter patter of scurrying paws through the undergrowth. The mob broke, heads lifted in alarm, eyes gleaming white in the moonlight as they balked and jostled.
‘Get on the flanks,’ hissed Ellie as she swiftly turned her horse. ‘We have to stop them running.’
The leading dingo slithered out of the shadows, low on its haunches, muzzle sniffing the air. It showed no hesitation as it stalked a young bullock that was too intent on grazing to notice what was happening, and Ellie realised the dog had to be starving and beyond fear.
The bullock screamed in terror as the dingo snapped at his legs. The rest of the mob took flight, thundering across the earth, spreading hell west and crooked in their desperate attempt to escape the pack of dingoes that came flying out of the scrub.
Ellie and the others raced alongside the fleeing mob, twisting and turning their horses in an effort to gather in the breakaways and keep them tightly bunched. The main body of the mob headed for the open plains where the ground was treacherous with broken timber, sharp stones and deep crevasses which could catch a hoof and break legs. About fifty bullocks took it into their heads to make for the gidgee scrub at full gallop. Jacky Jack, Ellie and one of the stock boys stayed with them, hurtling towards the dangers of scrub land at full tilt in the darkness.
Hoofs thundered over the ground, dust rose in a great cloud that
blotted out the night sky and made it almost impossible to see. The racing, ghostly mob reached the scrub and tore through it like a tornado. Ellie lay flat against her horse’s neck to avoid the whipping branches as they tore through the scrub. She was almost blind from the dust and debris being churned up by two hundred hoofs, but the adrenaline was high and she whooped and whistled with sheer elation.
Cold reality struck when the horse in front became impaled on the spear of a broken tree limb that stuck out several feet from the fork of a tree. The momentum of the stock boy’s hectic race into the scrub sent him flying over the horse’s head and he hit the dirt with a sickening thud. Then he was on his feet, racing for the safety of the nearest tree as the mob thundered down on him. He wasn’t quick enough. Two of the bullocks knocked him back and trampled him as they thundered on.
Ellie managed to wheel her horse away from the stampeding bullocks, reined in and leaped down. The other horse had died instantly, pierced to the heart, still impaled on that wicked tree limb. The stock boy was lying very still and there was blood on his shirt. Ellie carefully felt his limbs to see if they were broken, but she didn’t like the way he moaned when she touched his midriff and ribs. With a saddle bag hastily put beneath his head for a pillow, she jumped back into the saddle. She would need help.
The main body of the mob had careered out into the open plains where they soon ran out of steam, and it hadn’t taken long to round them up and settle them down again. Three dingoes lay dead, their skulls shattered by rifle bullets – the others were scattered back into the bush. Ellie arrived back at stock camp, filthy and badly shaken. ‘Billy’s been hurt,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I’m gunna need the wagon to get him back to the homestead.’
Aurelia ordered the wagon to be taken as far into the scrub as possible, and they gently carried the injured boy out of the bush and laid him on a pile of blankets in the flat-bed of the wagon. Billy’s saddlery was taken from the dead horse and laid next to him.
It was mid-morning when she reached home pasture. Their journey had been necessarily slow because of the bumpy terrain and Ellie was fretting. Billy lay moaning in the back, the blood a bright splash on the makeshift bandage. He was only young, about fifteen or so, yet he’d been working on Warratah ever since he’d learned to ride and was regarded like all the other Aborigines as an integral part of the station.
The sky was white with heat, touching the land with a stark glare that shot black shadows across the yard. Ellie dropped the reins as Wang Lee came shuffling down the steps to greet her. ‘Break rib,’ he muttered as he ran expert hands over the limp body. ‘Very sick boy. Bring into house.’
There was no sign of Charlie despite calling for him, so the two of them struggled to lay Billy on an old door and carry him into the homestead. Wang Lee bustled about and Ellie left him to fetch hot water, towels and bandages. She was hungry and thirsty and almost dead on her feet as she padded into the kitchen.
‘You’re back early,’ said Charlie cheerfully as he looked up from the out of date newspaper. He poured her a cup of tea and resumed eating his lunch.
‘Why didn’t you come and help?’ she demanded as she ignored the tea and set about collecting the things Wang Lee needed. ‘You must have heard me calling.’
He sipped his tea. ‘I could see you were managing,’ he said. ‘And I’m not strong enough to be lugging blacks about.’
Ellie glared. ‘His name’s Billy,’ she said coldly. ‘And he doesn’t weigh very much.’
Charlie shrugged and munched his sandwich.
Ellie felt like throwing the tea in his face, but was too exhausted. She gathered up the towels and bowl and headed back to the other room. ‘Mind you don’t over-do it, Charlie,’ she said with heavy sarcasm.
The sound of a utility coming up the drive stopped her. Turning, she looked out of the window. ‘No,’ she whispered as she clutched the towels and slopped water on the floor. ‘Please don’t let it be who I think it is.’
‘Who are you afraid of?’
Charlie was standing beside her, and Ellie moved away as his hand curled around her waist. She watched the utility grind to a halt. Watched as their visitor climbed out and dusted himself down. There was no escape. The chill of foreboding was overwhelming as she handed the water and towels to Wang Lee and moved like an automaton towards the door.
‘I didn’t want you receiving this through the mail,’ the priest said hesitantly. ‘If I can help in any way please don’t be afraid to ask.’ He handed her a large brown envelope.
Ellie looked at the military markings, the stamps, the unfamiliar writing. Her fingers trembled as she tore it open. Agony ripped through her as all her undelivered letters spilled to the verandah floor. She dropped to her knees, her hands drifting over those letters, gathering them up, crushing them to her. ‘No!’ The drawn out cry of despair and unfulfilled dreams echoed into the still morning only to leave a terrible void in its wake.
‘The army thought highly of Joe,’ the priest said softly as he knelt beside her. ‘They’ve awarded him a posthumous medal for his bravery.’ He held out a small box. ‘The citation is in the envelope. I’m sorry, Ellie.’
She barely heard him. Was blind to everything around her as she clutched the letters and the medal and walked down the steps. Unaware of Charlie and Wang Lee watching, she crossed the yard and headed for the horse paddock. Clipper seemed to understand her need, for he shambled over and stood patiently as she clambered on to his back. Then, with no saddle, no blanket and no reins, they slowly moved out of the paddock and on to the plains.
*
Charlie stood in stunned silence as he watched Ellie stagger across the yard. The full force of the priest’s news had left him numb – shattering the illusion of almost careless acceptance he’d manufactured when Aurelia had first told him of Joe’s death. For he hadn’t believed it. Couldn’t believe his twin had died before they had the chance to make things right between them. Now here was the terrible proof – and it hit him hard – far harder than he could ever have imagined.
He dropped into a chair and buried his face in his hands. Joe had been a part of him for ever. They had fought and played and vied for the attention of their parents. Tramped the roads, shared a bed-roll and a prison cell. They had feasted and starved together, ridden the plains and survived the elements. It couldn’t be the end. And yet it was. It was.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ murmured the priest.
Charlie shook his head, the tears seeping through his fingers.
‘We could pray together,’ the priest said hopefully. ‘You’d be surprised how it can help in times like these.’
Charlie lifted his ravaged face. ‘God’s never been there for me before,’ he rasped. ‘Why should it be any different now?’ He pulled himself out of the chair and swayed. ‘Where was he when Joe bought it, eh? Where was he when Seamus got blown apart and I lost half me chest?’ He pushed past the priest and headed for the verandah steps. ‘Keep yer prayers and yer God,’ he growled. ‘Ain’t done me no bloody favours.’
‘You no go after Miss Ellie,’ ordered Wang Lee sharply. ‘She need time alone. Need find own way to say good-bye to Joe.’
‘I’ll do what I bloody want,’ stormed Charlie. He was beyond reason, the anguish rising in him like a great tide that threatened to overwhelm him. He had to get away. Had to find Ellie. For she was the only one who could understand what he was going through.
‘I’m thinking Wang Lee’s right,’ soothed the priest as he plucked at Charlie’s sleeve.
Charlie swung his fist. It connected with the doleful chin and the priest fell spread-eagled on the verandah floor.
Wang Lee screamed a torrent of Chinese that rose and fell and reverberated in his head. Kelly screeched obscenities as he flapped his wings and danced on his perch. Charlie tensed. Ready to lash out. Then froze as he heard the sound of a rifle being cocked.
‘I’m quite prepared to use this,’ roared Aurelia. ‘Step away from Wang Lee, a
nd put your hands where I can see ‘em.’
Charlie felt the colour drain from him as he turned to find he was within inches of a rifle barrel. ‘I wasn’t going to hit anyone,’ he said quickly.
‘Didn’t look like that to me,’ retorted a grim Aurelia. She glanced at the poleaxed priest. ‘I suppose he just decided to take forty winks on my verandah?’ She waved the rifle in his face. ‘Sit over there. And don’t move. I’ll deal with you in a minute.’
Charlie watched Aurelia as she checked on the priest and ordered Wang Lee to see him right. The rifle remained steady in her hand, its aim unwavering. He flinched as she turned her steely gaze on him. He’d never realised how chill her eyes could be – or how much she disliked him.
‘I think you’d better explain what’s been going on,’ she said sternly.
Charlie told her. He didn’t wrap it up in nice words, or give any thought for her feelings. He just let her have it.
‘Dear God,’ she breathed, the rifle wavering, the colour bleached from her face. Where’s Ellie now?’
‘Out there.’ He waved his arm in the general direction of the open plains.
‘Better Miss Ellie alone fo’ a while,’ said Wang Lee solemnly. He shot Charlie a scathing glare. ‘She come home when ready.’
‘Why hit the priest?’ Aurelia demanded. ‘It’s not his fault.’
Charlie watched as Wang Lee helped the priest to his feet. There was already a dark swelling on his chin and Charlie felt a nub of satisfaction. ‘Got in the way,’ he mumbled. ‘I was trying to go after Ellie and he stopped me.’
Aurelia eyed him coldly. ‘Wang Lee’s right,’ she said finally. ‘Ellie needs to have time to take it all in. I’m sorry about your twin, but fisticuffs is not the answer. I will not allow such behaviour on my station.’ She glared at him. ‘Is that clear?’
Charlie nodded. The grief over Joe’s death had suddenly been replaced by cold determination. One of these days he’d get his own back on this old battleaxe.
Windflowers Page 28
