The Publicity Push

by Christopher Cummings

  The three girls all stood and went out to help. Kylie usually enjoyed bringing the cows in but this time she was still sore and distracted. She kept wondering who and how the story of the treasure map had been spread. From time to time she looked anxiously at the trees along the creekline and the wall of jungle beyond the road, wondering if anyone was even now watching. The thought made her feel slightly sick and quite robbed her of enjoyment. She noted that Uncle Bill carried his shotgun, something he rarely did, and the sight comforted her.

  As she walked back behind the herd of dairy cattle Kylie looked out over the ridges towards the east. Into her mind crept a thought which rapidly crystallized into a resolve. ‘The gold mine is somewhere out there. I’m going to try to find it! Then Uncle Bill and Gran won’t lose the farm.’

  CHAPTER 5

  DUSTY PAGES

  Milking took up all the rest of the afternoon. For three hours Kylie helped the others at the milking shed. Because of her ‘injuries’ she was given the job of moving the cattle in and out. Margaret was detailed to clean the cow’s udders and to spray their teats after milking. Allison, to Kylie’s amazement, actually joined Uncle Bill in the process of attaching the suction caps, ensuring the milk was flowing and then removing the milkers from the cattle.

  Kylie had always disliked the dirtier side of milking and was still a bit afraid of the cows but Allison appeared to take to the task like a duck to water. She worked down in the concrete pit between two rows of cows, just behind their back legs, where she cheerfully washed, fed, adjusted and milked. She leaned in under the cows and talked to them as though she had been doing it all her life. Even when wet manure splattered down and splashed on her she just laughed, wiped her face and kept on working.

  ‘Amazing!’ Kylie thought. She laughed, half with amusement, and half from embarrassed disgust, as a cow voided urine which splashed into Allison’s hair. Allison just grinned and slapped the cow on the rump, then went on working. Kylie was glad to be given the task of feeding the new calves, a task at which Margaret helped her. Margaret was also a natural at this, talking softly to the calves, which nuzzled and pushed; their big, liquid eyes showing curiosity and fear at the same time.

  By the time the milking was done it was dark. As they made their way up to the house Kylie felt quite worn out and stiff. It was a relief to have a hot bath and to change into clean clothes. Dinner followed, a happy meal with roast beef and potatoes with lashings of gravy.

  After the meal Kylie went to the kitchen to help with the washing up but Margaret and Allison shooed her away. “You talk to your Gran. You should still be in bed,” Margaret said.

  Meekly but thankfully Kylie did as she was told. She settled herself in the sitting room beside Gran and poured another cup of tea. After chatting for a few minutes she plucked up the courage to ask the question that had been forming in her mind for hours.

  “Gran, would you mind if I looked through all the old papers of Grandad’s that you were talking about earlier?”

  Gran looked over her glasses and smiled. “Of course not. But I fear you will find most of them very boring. I think most are just old bills and those sort of things.”

  “Where are they Gran?”

  “In the cellar under the stairs,” Gran replied. “But don’t try to get them out now. It is not very well lit and there are a few Redback spiders down there. It is very dusty too. You look in the morning.”

  “Oh it will be alright,” Kylie replied, fired with a desire to begin the treasure hunt.

  Her mother overheard this and also overruled her. “No! Bed for you young miss. You can look tomorrow.”

  “Aw mum!”

  But her mother was not to be swayed. Kylie kissed Gran goodnight and was sent down to tuck herself in. By the time Allison and Margaret joined her she was already half asleep and when she did drop off it was to sleep soundly all night through.

  Once again she woke to find herself alone in the bed. A check of the clock showed it to be nearly 7:00am. On going upstairs she learned from her mother, who was just starting to cook breakfast, that Allison had gone out at 4am again with Uncle Bill to help with the cows and that Margaret had also gone down to help with the morning milking. That made Kylie feel guilty and she at once suggested she go down to help as well. Her mother shook her head and pointed out the window.

  “They are nearly finished; only a dozen cows to go. You can join in tomorrow. How do you feel today?”

  “Much better thanks mum,” Kylie replied. She tested her muscles and ribs gingerly and was relieved to find that most of the soreness was gone, although her lip still split as she talked.

  Over breakfast they discussed the plans for the day. Mrs Kirk was firm. “It looks like rain this afternoon. I think we should go for a short walk this morning down to the creek. Then you can rest after lunch. Kylie still hasn’t recovered fully I am sure.”

  So during the morning they walked over the next ridge along a cow path down to the main creek. Uncle Bill and the dogs led the way and Kylie felt quite safe. The creek was a delight, a crystal clear brook murmuring over stones through a belt of jungle. Tiny fish flitted through the deeper pools and a tortoise was seen slipping out of sight under a log. Huge butterflies with brilliant blue and black wings fluttered in the bars of sunlight which penetrated the trees.

  On returning to the farmhouse for morning tea they discovered the Griersons were visiting. They enquired anxiously how everyone was and asked if they could help in any way. When Mrs Grierson commented on how brave she had been Kylie blushed at the praise.

  While they were talking a car was heard in the driveway. Uncle Bill went out to look. He returned with the police sergeant. The sight of him made Kylie’s heart turn over with anxiety.

  The sergeant smiled reassuringly. “Good news. We have arrested two men for the attack. They are in custody in Atherton now.”

  “Oh thank God!” Mrs Kirk gasped.

  “Who are they?” Kylie asked.

  “Two youths from Malanda,” the sergeant replied. “Carl Limburger, nicknamed ‘Burg’. He is the solid, fair-haired one; and Gerald Lucas, nicknamed ‘Donk’- because he works with car engines all the time. He is the thin, dark-haired one with acne.”

  The names meant nothing to Kylie. Her mother shook her head and so did Gran. “Never heard of either of them. Are they locals?”

  “Yes Mrs Feltham, they are. Both born and bred here. Once we asked a few questions it was easy to track them by their nicknames.”

  Kylie was puzzled. “So how did they come to hear about this treasure map?”

  “Alleged treasure map,” Gran corrected. “Probably one of the ladies who was at the meeting mentioned it in their hearing; or to one of their sons who told them. As I said the story of the ‘Jeweller’s Shop’ is hardly the greatest secret of the century in this part of the world.”

  “I suppose so,” Kylie agreed.

  “What will happen to them now?” Mrs Kirk asked.

  The sergeant made a face. “They will front the magistrate tomorrow and he will set a trial date. You will have to give evidence at that.”

  The idea of having to appear in court and of facing the horrible men came as a sickening shock to Kylie. She swallowed and asked: “But they will go to jail won’t they?”

  The sergeant made another face. “Maybe. I wouldn’t want to bet on it. We are opposing bail because of the assault but they could be out again until the trial.”

  Kylie was horrified. The thought of the two men being free made her shudder and feel even sicker. “But they could come back and get us!” she cried.

  The sergeant shook his head. “They could, but you can be sure the bail conditions will include a restraining order to stay away from you. They would be mad to do anything else. It would make their case ten times worse.”

  Kylie wasn’t reassured. Nor was Mrs Kirk. “You will let us know if they are let out on bail won’t you?” she asked.

  The sergeant promised to do so. He was offered
tea and sat with them for a while, then took his leave. The Griersons left soon after, adding a warm invitation for the girls to come over to their farm anytime.

  Uncle Bill stood up. “Well, I’m off to check that pump down in the bottom dam. Who wants to come?”

  The girls all said they would come, although Kylie really itched to start searching through the old papers. Hats and boots were donned and they set off in the old ute.

  It turned out to be an unpleasant experience. First they saw a snake- a red-bellied black which slid off into the long grass. Then they found a new-born calf drowned in the pond behind the earth dam. Uncle Bill made a grimace and told the girls to go away but Allison insisted in helping. The body was fished out and dragged up onto the bank for removal. Uncle Bill then examined the pump. After a while he straightened up.

  “As I suspected. I will have to take this up to the workshop and strip it down.”

  “Will it be easy to repair?” Allison asked.

  Uncle Bill shook his head. “No. It’s an old pump and I will probably have to pull it apart and even make a replacement part for it.”

  “Can’t you just buy a new one?” Allison asked.

  Again Uncle Bill shook his head. “I’d love to, but we can’t afford one. So, it’s got to be this one fixed, or we are out of water by tomorrow.”

  When Kylie heard this she felt a stab of deep anxiety. If Uncle Bill could not afford to even replace a small pump then things must be bad indeed. ‘We must find that goldmine,’ she told herself.

  As they drove back to the house her mind turned this idea into a fierce resolve. On arrival she sought out her Gran. To her relief the others made no comment and assumed she was still not well after her bashing.

  She found Gran sitting asleep in her arm chair. Rather than disturb her Kylie asked her mother if she could look at the old papers in the cellar. Mrs Kirk nodded and again cautioned her to watch out for spiders. Taking a torch Kylie made her way downstairs. The door to the cellar was in under the stairs and the entrance was being used as a broom cupboard, which explained why the men had not found it. Moving the mops and brooms aside she looked in, found a light switch, turned it on, and went in.

  The cellar was a room about 4 metres square with two posts in the centre. The walls were made of rough concrete and were lined with boxes and suitcases. The air was dry and musty and everything was covered in a layer of fine dust.

  First Kylie checked in and around the boxes for spiders and snakes. Satisfied there were none she began searching, opening boxes to look at the contents. It quickly became apparent to her that she was facing a daunting task. There were over a dozen cardboard cartons stuffed with papers and books, plus nine suitcases in various states of disintegration.

  ‘Oh well, nothing for it but to start,’ she told herself. With a grimace she dusted the top of a carton and pulled the lid open. Movement inside made her snatch her hand away, but it was only silverfish. She made a face and started to lift papers out to look at them. They were bundles of old bills and bank statements and were addressed to her grandfather, Stan.

  The most interesting thing about them was that most were in the old money: pounds, shillings and pence. It took Kylie a moment to recognize the symbols. The actual values meant very little to her. ‘Money was worth a lot more then, I think,’ she mused.

  That entire carton was the same. It was no real help to her at all. She moved it to the other side of the room and went to another. This was more interesting and contained bundles of letters and several large envelopes and an old photo album. The album was made of black cloth and contained hundreds of tiny black and white photos, now yellowed with age.

  Blowing the dust from the cover Kylie moved over under the light and turned the pages. The photos were obviously of her relatives. That much was obvious from the family resemblance. To her annoyance few of them had any caption. She tried to guess at who the people were, and even when.

  “Must be a long time ago, judging by the clothes,” she muttered. Noises of people walking around overhead decided her. “Mum might know who they all are; or Gran.”

  Taking the photo album, Kylie made her way upstairs to find afternoon tea in progress. Uncle Bill, Allison and Margaret were back. Kylie was informed that the offending pump was now in the workshop and the dead calf ‘disposed of’. She did not want to know how. Gran was now awake and she smiled as Kylie joined them.

  “Look what I found Gran. I hope you don’t mind me looking.”

  Gran laughed. “Not at all dearie. Go for your life. You won’t unearth any family skeletons in that lot. We are a terribly boring and proper crowd the Felthams; and the Pikes too. I will come down and help you later. I have a better idea where things are.”

  “Thanks Gran. Do you know who all these people are?” Kylie asked, opening the album.

  Gran picked up her glasses and peered at the page Kylie had opened at. “Oh dear me! Oh, I think that is your Great Uncle Herbert. That is definitely my mother, Emma beside him.”

  They all craned to look. Kylie turned the page. It was covered with more tiny photos showing men in working clothes standing around tree trunks and felled trees with an antique looking motor truck in the background. ‘Boar Pocket- 1929’ said the caption.

  Gran shook her head. “Sorry. I don’t know any of them. That one might be young Daniel who was killed in the sawmill accident.” She pointed to a fine looking young man in boots, trousers and singlet, holding an axe.

  “Oh what a shame,” Margaret murmured. “He was very good looking.”

  Kylie turned a page. There was a photo of five children, all dressed up, the boys wearing ties and the girls in long white frocks and sun bonnets. Next to it was a photo of the same four children but this time the boys were in sailor suits and the girls held large union jacks. ‘Empire Day- 1916’ read the caption.

  “Those must old Daniel’s children,” Gran said. “This will be Charlotte, then my dad, Hector, then Herbert, Young Daniel and Emily, the baby.”

  Kylie peered at the photo, fascinated. These were her flesh and blood ancestors. It was eerie to see the resemblance. Margaret thought so too as she commented: “Look at that girl. She is the spitting image of you Kylie.”

  “I never spit thank you,” Kylie replied, then laughed. It was true. She was amazed. There were more photos on the next page of the same children, with a pet dog; playing with a toy pedal car; and with a pet cockatoo. The boys all wore long shorts with braces over white shirts with no collars on them and the girls frocks were all below the knee and very frilly.

  Kylie turned another page. A large photo of a bride took up one side and two others, both showing six children sitting on an old horse, the other. Gran smiled and pointed with pride.

  “That was my mother, Emma, on her wedding day.”

  “She was very pretty Gran,” Kylie commented.

  “Yes she was. And that was the photo I told you about of us kids on the horse on our way to school. That is me in the middle with my arms around Stanley. That is Stanley’s sister Melba behind me, then his brother Noel and little Violet hanging on for dear life at the back. Josh is the boy at the front.”

  Kylie stared at her Grandmother’s photo with fascination. None of the children wore shoes and only three of them wore hats. She could not have recognized any without Gran. She turned more pages, revealing various family events: weddings, picnics and so on.

  Gran shook her head and sucked her teeth with annoyance. “I wish I could remember who all these people were.”

  “You should have written on the back of all the photos mum,” Mrs Kirk said. It was obviously a discussion they had had before as Gran answered very shortly.

  “Well we didn’t! We had to work hard in those days.” In her annoyance she quickly turned the page, to reveal a dozen photos of people swimming, sailing, lying on the beach (‘Brampton Island- 1936’ it said) and riding horses.

  “Yes, lots of work,” Mrs Kirk said with a grin.

  “Oh poo to yo
u!” Gran replied. She quickly turned the page. Out onto the table fell a loose photo. It was very old, a stiff, posed wedding photo of a severe looking man with a huge ‘walrus’ moustache and his hand gripping his lapel, standing beside a seated lady in a high-necked and lacy wedding dress.

  “Oh heavens! That is Great, Great, Great Grandad Hector and Rose Till,” Gran said.

  “When was that Gran?” Kylie asked.

  “Oh dear! When did I say they were married? About 1885 I think,” Gran replied.

  More pages were turned, showing photos of handsome young men in army uniform. “World War Two,” Gran said, naming various great uncles. Then she turned another page and there was a full size, colour tinted photo of a bridal couple.

  “That is my wedding,” Gran explained.

  Kylie gazed at it with rapt attention. “Gran! You were a beautiful bride!” she exclaimed.

  Gran coloured and smiled. “Thank you my dear. And so will you be.”

  Then it was Kylie’s turn to blush. The others laughed. Afternoon tea proceeded and more photos were studied. To Kylie’s regret Gran could not remember who or where many of the photos were taken. ‘I will make sure I write on the back of all my photos,’ she silently vowed, well aware she had taken hundreds and never written on any.

  Uncle Bill stood up. “Well, back to work for me. See you girls at four please.”

  “Yes Uncle Bill,” Kylie replied absently. Allison went out with Uncle Bill but Margaret remained. She helped Mrs Kirk clean up while Kylie helped Gran down the stairs and into the cellar. She fetched a chair, then she set to work, helped by her mother and Margaret, to sort the boxes of old papers.

  For over an hour they shifted, sorted and dusted. Margaret looked at her watch. “Time we went to help with the milking.”

  “Yes,” Kylie agreed. “Just one more box.” She opened the box, wrinkled her nose in distaste at the scuttle of cockroaches, and lifted out an old, leather-bound notebook.

  “That is what you are after,” Gran said. “That is one of Grandad Hector’s diaries.”