The Valley

by Hawke, Steve;

  She gets up, takes their water glasses to the fridge to top them up. ‘The reason for telling you my sorry story, nephew, is to try to explain why I can’t answer your question very well. Between high school and nursing school, and having my head in the clouds all those years, I missed so much. All those struggle times when this place was born. I sort of turned my back on it all, and I’m ashamed of that.

  ‘And I more or less missed the last couple of years of Milly’s life. I saw her in Broome that time when I was passing through, and then …’ Rosa trails off. After a moment she says, ‘All the stuff with your mum, Dancer – when it went wrong for her … I just heard about it in my phone calls to Mum. It didn’t seem real.

  ‘What eats away at me, still, is thinking that I might have been able to make a difference. If there was one person in the world, it would have been me. Maybe it wouldn’t have changed anything. But her cousin sister wasn’t even paying attention.’

  Each is lost in thoughts and memories. In the end, he ignores her story and asks, ‘What about your mum, and the others here? What did they think?’

  ‘Riders and Walkers,’ she answers ruefully. ‘I like Two Bob. I always have. But he’s a strange old bird. I can only just remember his brother Bob, but by all accounts he was even stranger. And scary with it. The white witchdoctor, some people used to call him.

  ‘There was one old granny who never liked either of them. The one that was always carrying on about the debbil debbil country. She used to stick it into Two Bob for ever taking Milly there, and blame him and Andy for cursing her. A couple of the aunties used to talk the same sort of way …’

  ‘So people were blaming Dad?’

  She holds up a placating hand. ‘I don’t think many people really believed all that debbil debbil stuff. But same time, none of it made any sense. Specially the way she just disappeared. Everyone was freaked out.’ She sees Dancer’s furrowed brow. ‘I shouldn’t be talking like this, should I.’

  ‘Yes, you should!’ They are both shocked by his vehemence. ‘I need to know.’

  There is a wave of jasmine scent as a gust of wind sets Rosa’s trees to swirling.

  46

  The waxing moon is directly above, throwing enough light for the boab’s branches to speckle Dancer with a tracery of moonshadow. It’s later than he has been up in many weeks. Rosa switched gear and started quizzing him about his Broome family. It’d taken a few moments to get back into remembering that world; three weeks seem a lifetime ago. But he was more than happy to reconnect in his mind, and rabbit on about the uncles and aunties, brother Buddy and the cousins, tales of Broome. Even Nyami Buster, so recently lost.

  Rosa was so easy to talk to. Like no-one else he could think of. Maybe it was because she had offered something of herself first. By the time she got to her feet and started to gather up the remains of the meal, he felt like he had told his life story, such as it was to date. And that it had been welcomed, valued.

  She refused his offers to clear the table or do the dishes, and re-emerged with a wicked grin and two big bowls of ice-cream, topped with half a tin each of black cherries. The rustling of the jasmine creeper, the slurp of soft tucker sucked off the spoon, small sounds of pleasure. They finished together. No words were necessary, his smile said it all.

  ‘Tim tells me you’re not much of a horse rider.’

  ‘Thanks Tim.’

  ‘He reckons it’s not a problem though. Two Bob’s got it all worked out. You and him are just going to mosey along at a walk.’

  ‘That’s the plan.’

  ‘And two horses still to be culled out?’

  ‘Mmm.’ He was feeling his full stomach, not really paying attention. Until.

  ‘Your mum told me a story one time.’

  He sat up in his chair.

  ‘D’you ever do that “cross your heart and hope to die” thing when you were a kid?’

  He was struck dumb, but if she noticed, she ignored it.

  ‘I don’t know where she got that from. Bush kids we were, no TV or any of that stuff. Must have been some story Marj read to her I s’pose. But that’s what she made me do, cross my heart and hope to die. I’d forgot it till the other day, when you told me about Two Bob’s true country trip. I didn’t twig straight away, it was later that night it came back to me. I mean, we were only – I was nine and she was seven or something like that, maybe younger even. Do you remember all the things you did when you were nine?’

  ‘Nup.’

  ‘That was only a few years ago for you. Bloody lifetime for me.’

  ‘What d’you remember?’

  ‘Cross my heart and hope to die. I s’pose it doesn’t count now. She’s gone. I honestly can’t remember the details. But she told me about this secret place she’d been. About grannies and little boys and a secret pool full of birds. I thought she was just telling stories, Dancer. Little girl stories like we do.’ The smile is more for herself and the memory than for Dancer.

  ‘Put the kettle on will you.’

  He made the tea, and they settled back into the soft chairs.

  ‘I want to come, Dancer. You’re going to that secret pool full of birds, far as I can reckon. I know it doesn’t change anything. I know it doesn’t make any sense. But it’s like … my way of saying sorry. That I believe you, Milly. I’d like to come.’

  ‘Fuck.’

  ‘Yeah. I get that.’

  ‘Can you ride?’

  ‘Good as you, from all reports.’

  ‘This trip isn’t about Mum.’

  ‘I get that too. But it is for me.’

  ‘You’re freaking me out, Auntie.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  They sipped at their teas for a bit.

  ‘Listen, Dancer. I’m not putting all my eggs in this flimsy old basket your grandpa is weaving. Jimbala Wali is not going to lose Highlands Station. Full stop. I love the idea of Two Bob and Andy pulling this mad scheme off, of pulling this place out of the shit. But I’m working on Plan B and Plan C. I have to.

  ‘And I’ve got this feeling in my guts that this plan, whatever it is, is worth giving a go. Every cattleman I’ve talked to reckons your grandpa is as good as they come. I’ve juggled everything I can without breaking the silly fucken government rules to give it a chance.

  ‘The thing is, though, all of that’s got nothing to do with what I’m asking you. I’m not talking with my chairman’s hat on here. This adventure you’re about to go on is his plan, his game, his rules. If he says it’s a boys-only trip for him and you and Riley and Andy, that’s ok. I wouldn’t hold that against him.

  ‘I can’t ask him myself. But I’d love to come, Dancer. I’m asking you a favour. Tim reckons those last two horses’d be all right for an old girl like me.’

  ‘You’re the same age as Dad, aren’t you?’

  ‘Same same.’

  Dancer stretches, waggles his fingers, watches the moonshadows flicker across them, looks up to the yellow orb, laughs to himself.

  Gunna be an interesting yarn with Grandpa in the morning.

  47

  ‘It’s a bloody convoy,’ Andy remarks drily, as they pull away from the station, waved off by a gaggle of kids.

  ‘Are you pissed off about Auntie Rosa?’

  ‘No skin off my nose. Not sure what the point is though.’

  Rosa’s ahead, with Tim and Jimmy aboard her Landcruiser. Two Bob and Riley are bringing up the rear in the Hilux. It’s the first time Andy and Dancer have been alone. ‘You’re gunna have some explainin’ to do to your brother when you finally get back to Broome. You wouldn’t believe how cranky he is to be missin’ this. I had to make sure he hadn’t stowed away.’

  Andy splutters when Dancer explains about his number one horse. After being brought up to date on family news from Broome, Dancer asks, ‘Any word on the bikies?’

  ‘I’ve given ’em a down payment.’ Andy drums the wheel fiercely. ‘I’m not takin’ it lyin’ down though. I’m sort of hopeful they might finis
h up decidin’ Broome’s not a good town for ’em to do business.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Don’t ask.’

  ‘Dad?!’

  ‘Don’t worry. I haven’t done anythin’ silly. An’ I’m not takin’ any chances. They’ll get their fucken money from me, the scum.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Dunno yet.’

  ‘There’s something I should tell you,’ Dancer says sheepishly.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I, um … let slip about the bikies.’

  ‘You what!’

  ‘It was just Grandpa – and Riley was there. It just sort of came out one night.’ He is starting to babble because he is embarrassed. ‘It won’t matter, no-one back in Broome’ll find out. There’s no way —’

  Andy holds up a hand to cut him off. ‘What’s done’s done. I’ll have a word to Two Bob about keepin’ shtoom.’ He changes the topic. ‘So how’s it been?’

  Dancer breathes a sigh of relief. ‘Mostly good. I’ve been getting to know Auntie Rosa a bit. I really like her.’

  ‘She was away down south when I was hangin’ round up here.’

  ‘Yeah, she said. Her and Mum more or less grew up together.’

  ‘Mmm. Any stories for me?’

  ‘Don’t think I’ll be looking for a job as a ringer anytime soon.’ This gets a laugh. ‘Lots of stories, Dad. Maybe too many. I’m sort of thinking let’s just do this ride, and then do all the talking when we’re driving back home … Is that all right?’

  Andy takes his eyes off the track long enough to look at his son for a couple of moments. ‘Yeah, that’s all right. Prob’ly a good call in fact.’

  ‘Bullfrog Hole. Remember it?’

  ‘Of course,’ Dancer murmurs.

  ‘There’s been a bit of water under the bridge since last time we were here,’ Andy says as he eases the truck to a halt where Tim is indicating. ‘Come on then, we better get these horses offloaded.’

  The Rider mob have pressed on ahead and got on with the preparations. They have half the horses unloaded and clipped to a tether rope rigged between a couple of sturdy trees by the time they hear Two Bob’s Hilux approaching. He cuts his engine at a good distance. Dancer glances up and sees Riley almost burst out of the car, bouncing with energy and excitement. Two Bob waves him down, they talk briefly, and Riley heads down to the waterhole. The old man doesn’t want all that buzz around the horses.

  Two Bob stays in his car, watching. Once all the horses are settled Dancer wanders over and climbs in beside his grandfather. ‘Thought you’d be checking the horses out.’

  ‘You lot got it covered. I’m just havin’ a bit of a think, jaminyi. Got a big story to tell tonight.’

  ‘Everybody’s waiting.’

  ‘Yuw.’ He taps his nose with a long forefinger, and tries a grin, but the unease shows. He changes the subject. ‘Look at your dad an’ Jimmy.’ The two are deep in conversation as Andy inspects Falcon. Jimmy looks up at the sun, nods, and leaves Andy with the horse. In a few moments he is on his way back with a saddle and all the accoutrements.

  ‘Told you,’ Two Bob says, and this time the smile is real. They wait until Andy has trotted off on Falcon before they join the others.

  There is half an hour of daylight left when the unpacking and camp chores are completed. Andy is not back yet. Dancer slips away and heads down to the waterhole, hoping for some solitude, but Riley is there, sitting on the sand, singing. Dancer sits beside him. Riley finishes the song before he turns to Dancer. ‘This your Unggurr place eh?’

  ‘This is my Unggurr place.’

  Riley bounces to his feet. ‘Mine down thataway. Where we’re goin’.’ He lip-points to the south, then prances off. Dancer eases himself into a more comfortable position as he gazes over the waterhole. It is as beautiful as the memory he has held these last three years. It is a bigger river than the one back near Highlands; wider, deeper, still in the evening light. Even the birds are quiet for the moment.

  ‘Your mother dreamed you here, before you were born. Bunuba way, that means you were runnin’ round this place when you were a spirit child.’

  Without looking down, he sifts through the sand until he finds a stone of the right weight. He rubs it under his armpits, then tosses it into the water. He feels a flash of resentment, wishing that everyone else would disappear so he could just sit and absorb this place, and feel his connection to it. But he knows now is not the time.

  Yesterday, waiting for Andy to arrive, he’d finally decided to stay silent about Riley’s drawings, and their strange encounter. It wasn’t just because of the promise he’d given so uneasily. He feels overloaded with stories, confidences and unresolved tensions. With so many different agendas and memories swirling around this journey, he finished up figuring it was better for him, and probably for Andy, if he kept his own counsel and waited for things to unfold. There is no way he could tell Andy the story without freaking him out.

  But that did not stop him feeling like a traitor as they drove past Unggulala today on the way here, fighting off memories of that terrible portrait, and saying nothing to his father.

  The light is all but gone when he gets to his feet.

  48

  ‘I dunno how long this story gunna take, we’re supposed to be makin’ early start in the mornin’.’

  They are all gathered in a circle except for Riley, who prowls the outskirts of the firelight behind them. Two Bob eases himself into his tale. ‘Where we sittin’ now, Bullfrog Hole, I call him no-man’s-land. Bunuba word is different. Malayi. That means shared country. He’s little bit Ngarinyin, little bit Andinyin, little bit Bunuba. Proper Ngarinyin that way, back Highlands side. Proper Bunuba down that way. Proper Andinyin over there. But here, he’s mixed up. Malayi. Where we goin’ tomorrer, that’s gettin’ more on proper Bunuba side.

  ‘An’ that’s my true country. Me an’ Riley. Not that native title way. My mummy was proper Bunuba, but her really country, that’s down Fish Creek side, more longa Fitzroy way. I mean our born country. Where we born. Where we been grow. Me. My brother Bob. Riley. Nobody knows that country now, ’cept me an’ Riley. Nobody belongs that country now, ’cept me an’ Riley. An’ my jaminyi, Dancer.

  ‘This story starts long time. Olden days. Jandamarra time. Where we goin’, that was his secret hideout place, where no whitefeller, no policeman, no black tracker ever been find him. His secret place. An’ still today, no road, no track, nothin’ goin’ in there.

  ‘Those early days now, ol’ Jandamarra, one of his main men was a feller called Marralam. They been put him in jail for long time. When he got out, Jandamarra was finish. No Bunuba people still livin’ old way. All slavin’ away on the stations.

  ‘That Marralam, he made a promise never to live under the white man. When he got out from jail, he remembered this valley. He been grab his wife back from Fish Creek, and he been come to this place. He been live there rest of his life, away from the white man, away from the stations. Ol’ Marralam was uncle for my mummy.’

  He pauses to roll a smoke. His audience waits.

  ‘My daddy was a white man. His name was Charlie Walker.’

  He catches the look, the little nod from Tim to Rosa.

  ‘That’s right, Tim. Bob an’ Two Bob. Janga an’ Wajarri. Born together from a black mummy an’ a white daddy. Proper mixed up buggers us two. Born down there in the valley.’

  He tells them the story of the killing of Twelve Inch. Of his parents’ flight. Of the sanctuary they found with Marralam. Of the terrible fear they had of the killing being discovered, of punishment for Billy’s crime, of being separated. Of their love. Of Sarah. Of the fear compounded and multiplied when he and Bob were born. Of the awful certainty that they would be torn asunder if ever they were discovered.

  They have all sat through Two Bob’s yarns at other fires, some of them more times than they could count. But tonight there is none of his stock-in-trade of wry humour, and nod-and-a-wink exaggeration. These tellings a
re dredged, wrestled from a place deep within. Each memory, each detail, has to break free of the chains with which he has bound it for decades. The anguish of revelation is writ in his voice and his body.

  He tells them the story of the deal done between his father and Stumpy Maclean, with an aside to Rosa, reminding her that he wasn’t humbugging when he told her about all the bullamon down there.

  He omits the story of the chaining of Janga, talking only of an almighty argument between Janga and their father that led to Janga’s flight to Highlands.

  ‘You gotta understand,’ he says. ‘Us mob, our whole life been secret. Hidin’. Janga, he was wild when he been take off. But that didn’t mean he could give away that secret. That’s why he been give you Highlands mob different story.

  ‘I couldn’t stop behind without my brother. He been call me with a dream. An’ I been foller him. To Highlands. But me too, I couldn’t give away that secret. Liar ones, that’s us two.’

  He waves his empty pannikin, and Riley comes running to take it for a top-up. Rosa is the first to break the silence. ‘How much of this did Auntie Marj know?’

  Two Bob rolls up another smoke. Waits for his top-up. Takes a slow sip. Lights up. ‘Nothin’, for long time.’

  ‘Bullshit! Can’t be.’

  ‘No, nothin’ bullshit, Rosa. Me an’ her, we had our own way. We worked things out between us. Bob the one been tell her first, when they been drivin’ round the country doin’ that Land Council politics … She had most of that story by the end.’

  He relights his rollie, waiting.

  Dancer can’t hold back. ‘What about Riley?’

  After delivering the tea and putting another log on the fire, Riley has sat down in the fireshadow cast by Two Bob, half hidden, knees clasped to his chest, feet touching Two Bob. He does not move, does not react.

  ‘Jinda?’ Tim asks.