‘Any idea where he might go if he didn’t want to be found?’
Davey clammed up. He’d probably said too much already.
‘We think this bloke murdered Sir Henry Abbott last night. You didn’t know that, did you, son? You’ll be in a lot of trouble if you don’t cooperate. Getting in the way of a murder investigation. Are you sure you don’t know anything?’
Davey’s mouth was dry, and a combination of fear and malice loosened his tongue. He told Murray of his trip to the valley in the ranges with Adam and Mr Campbell.
Sergeant Murray marched him around to the front of the house. ‘Young Davey here thinks he knows where Tyler is. It might mean a few days of bushwhacking. I’d appreciate some provisions for the trip, Mr Campbell.’
Daniel glared at Davey, who was glad to have the burly police sergeant standing between him and his boss.
‘Any chance of you joining us yourself, sir? Nobody knows this land like you do.’
‘I’m afraid not, Sergeant.’ Daniel turned on his heel and marched inside.
An hour later the men were ready to go. Davey was keeping out of the way in the cart shed. Old Bill came by and dropped rations and a waterskin at his feet. ‘Your horse is ready in the yard.’
‘Thanks Bill.’
‘And one more thing. Once you’re back, pack your bags and get out.’
Davey shouldered his swag and walked glumly to the yards. He looked around for his horse, but saw only Baringa: a barely broken, flaxen-maned chestnut with a wild streak.
‘That’s a fine colt, son.’ Sergeant Murray grinned. ‘Got a bit of go in ’im.’
Davey tried to mount. It took two people to hold the restless horse still. He hung on grimly as Baringa reared. Whatever had he got himself into?
Luke had been on the move for hours. He couldn’t be sure he was being followed, but it was a fair bet. If so, he had a good start on them. His first trip to Tiger Pass had taken four days, but that was travelling at the pace of the cubs, and without the advantage of a horse for those first few miles. With luck he could cut that almost in half.
They travelled steadily, making good time, barely resting. They drank from mountain pools. Bear caught rabbits and shared them with Luke, who was loath to use his rifle. They ate raw meat so no smoke betrayed them. Sometimes Luke crept onto a rocky ledge or ridge top with a view down the range, but saw no sign of pursuers. They seemed utterly alone. Even so, he tied bundles of grass and bracken to their feet to obscure their footprints. Bear kept chewing his off.
By Tuesday morning they reached Tiger Pass. It felt like coming home. The canyon walls stretched into the blue. Shimmered light blended cliff tops with sky. It was hard to decide where earth ended and heaven began. He thought of the rock paintings. Had the first people known it, too, this hallowed feeling?
A certain calm came over him. Since the night of Becky’s rape, he’d always seethed against something. Injustice, Abbott . . . himself. Now he surrendered to the idea that none of it mattered. Neither he, nor Bear, nor the tigers. They were all insignificant specks in a vast universe, and would soon be forgotten. It was a strangely welcome notion.
Luke and Bear climbed down to the valley floor, and found the tigers safe and sound. The sleepy cubs greeted their visitors and curled back up again. The cave contained some spare rations and Luke sat a while, glad for a meal of biscuits and raisins. The raw meat had made his stomach churn. Bear rose from his place beside the cubs, padded to the cave mouth and snarled, sensing the coming storm. Wearily, Luke shouldered his rifle. He’d set himself a difficult and dangerous task for the day and there was no sense putting it off.
That night, Bear hunted once more with the tigers. Luke stayed behind and, like in the old days, waited for the dog to return. Under cover of darkness he allowed himself a fire to cook the last rabbit, but his appetite failed him. Clouds rolled in on a high wind, snuffing out the stars. A curtain of rain swept up the gorge and closed over the cave mouth. The fire’s glow served only to darken the night beyond. Never before had Luke been so conscious of his own frailty, of hanging onto life by a fragile thread, and yet never before had he felt so protected.
Bear and the cubs trotted in after midnight, seeking shelter from the worsening weather. The animals sat companionably around the fire, regarding Luke with interested eyes. Thought and mind were there, and he suddenly wished they could talk to him. Well, maybe they couldn’t, but there was nothing to stop him talking to them. So he told them a story he’d heard as a boy from Daniel, one in keeping with the odd spirituality of the occasion.
‘Once upon a time there was a prince called Siddhartha Gautama. He lived a life with everything he ever wanted. He didn’t know that outside his palace, the world was a tough place. One day he rode out among the people and saw so much sadness. Cruelty and disease and hunger, not just for humans but for animals too. So he decided to leave his old life and just wander about, searching for the secret of happiness.
‘He went walkabout for seven years, studying and asking questions, but couldn’t find the answer. In the end he sat down under a big old tree. For forty-nine days he just sat there, until one night, known as the sacred night, a bit like this night maybe, he realised that wisdom wasn’t out there somewhere, but inside him. Now he wasn’t called Siddhartha Gautama any more, but Buddha, the Enlightened One.’
Bear came and laid his great head on Luke’s knee.
‘Buddha told people that suffering is caused by desire.’ An image of Belle’s lovely face flashed before him. ‘Desire creates endless miseries. If you can stop wanting things to be different, you can stop suffering.’
Luke used a stick to trace a circle in the sand.
‘So then Buddha invented a kind of wheel, with each spoke a rule for happiness.’
He racked his brains to remember this bit. Somewhere nearby, a mopoke owl began its rhythmic calling. Bear and the cubs watched him expectantly.
‘One . . . I’ve forgotten one. Two is be kind. Three, don’t lie or condemn or judge. I’m not too good with that.’ As he said each number he drew a line on the circle in the sand. ‘Four, don’t kill or steal or harm. Five, don’t get rich off the misery of others. Six, keep your self-control. Seven, don’t think evil thoughts. Eight . . . I’ve forgotten eight as well.’
Nevertheless he traced in the last line. An eight-spoked wheel lay in the sand.
‘Then Buddha said, there is no you or me, because we’re all parts of this one big whole. Even Abbott is, I suppose. Nothing is good or bad, because everything is the same and can’t be divided. He said we might all need to live thousands of lives before we understand. That’s called Karma. When Buddha died, he passed into everything. He’s even right here, with us, in this mountain. What do you think of that?’ he asked Bear.
But Bear was either meditating or asleep. Luke lay down close beside him, trading comfort and warmth as night tiptoed towards morning.
Sergeant Murray’s party broke camp at first light. Davey wasn’t being much help, but at least he’d got them started on the right track. By noon, the way became impassable for horses. Someone had to take their mounts back to Binburra, which meant he’d lose a man.
With numbers reduced from eight to seven, the men pressed forward on foot. They barely needed Davey’s uncertain navigation skills. Edward had been talked into bringing his father’s pair of bloodhounds. They stood a yard high at the shoulder and were consummate, relentless hunters. Their forefathers had been imported from England to hunt down Aborigines during the Black War. Not once did the dogs falter on the trail. By Wednesday night the party found themselves, according to Davey, only half a day’s travel from Tiger Pass.
They set off early Thursday morning under pale, rain-washed skies. The country curved up to a rim of rocky battlements, bare-sided, and crowned with trees. Sergeant Murray gazed at the cliffs rising stark and forbidding in the distance.
A sudden thunderclap echoed around the range. The men peered skywards, where streamers of cloud
scattered before a light wind. How was there thunder? Minutes later the same thing, like gunshot, but much louder. Twice more that morning, the mysterious retort rang out. The rained-out trail made it difficult for the bloodhounds to find the scent, but they were close enough now for Davey to remember the way. By noon, the party reached the entrance to the pass.
They stopped for a briefing.
‘Don’t shoot till he has the chance to surrender,’ said Murray. ‘I plan to bring this boy home alive.’
‘We’ll be sitting ducks,’ said Davey. ‘That bastard’s armed and a crack shot. He could pick us off, one by one, from the cliffs.
‘I reckon Tyler’s no killer.’ Sergeant Murray shouldered his pack and they headed up the canyon.
Luke had spent the morning in target practice. He’d made the precarious climb up from the valley to Tiger Pass, cradling five sticks of dynamite and a dozen blasting caps. If they came for him, he’d finish what he and Daniel had started – blast out the rear of the cave and seal Bear and the tigers safely in their secret valley.
Without fuses, he needed to find a way to detonate the explosives. Luke positioned a blasting cap in a clearing away from the cave. He took aim and shot. To his delight, it detonated, causing a feeding flock of cockatoos to take flight, bright yellow crests raised in alarm. Three more times Luke repeated his test. Spot on every time. Satisfied, he arranged the remaining caps and dynamite at the back of the cave.
Bear prowled around, gazing up the pass. He came to crouch at Luke’s feet, a growl rumbling low in his throat.
Luke sensed it too, this approaching menace. They’d be here soon. He rechecked the cache of explosives, loaded and primed his rifle, strapped his swag on his back. He tied new grass bundles to Bear’s feet. Then he sat down under the ageless Huon pine and waited, mouth dry, scarcely breathing, alert to the slightest sound.
The sun had passed its peak and was slipping away to the west when there came the excited howl of a dog. For hours now, Bear had heard boots crunching on sand, the rustle of clothes, whispered conversations, even laboured breath as men climbed.
Luke called a snarling Bear inside the cave and urged him down the tunnel leading to the hidden valley. The dog obeyed and waited for Luke to follow. Instead Luke wedged rock after rock into the narrow space between them, walling him off. Bear whined, scrabbling away at the heavy stones with powerful forepaws. He stopped at a sharp word from Luke and sat, disconsolate, as the rocky barrier grew.
Content that Bear was out of harm’s way, Luke took up a position at the cave entrance offering a clear view down the pass. How surreal it seemed, like a play acted by another. A bloodhound trotted into sight, not two hundred yards away. There was no hiding from dogs. After a moment’s hesitation, Luke shot it between the eyes. A second came into view and met the same fate as his companion. Then, a man. Luke drew back into the shadows.
Sergeant Murray, rifle at the ready, surveyed the towering walls of the gorge. Cautiously, he moved forward, motioning for the others to follow.
Murray examined the dead dogs. His practised eye judged the bullets had come from somewhere in front of them, but where?
‘I don’t want any trouble, son.’ His voice echoed round the ranges. ‘Lay down your weapon and come out where we can see you, hands high.’
Murray scanned the dozens of caverns peppering the cliffs, then ordered his men to fan out in a line and inspect the ground. It was no easy task. Luke had covered his tracks well.
Hours later, Murray found what he was looking for, the faint paw prints of a dog in the damp earth. They led to a cave at the base of a tall pine tree. He motioned his men to vantage points around the entrance and once more urged Luke to surrender. Then Murray marched into the cave, deeper and deeper again. Passing from light to darkness, he moved as a blind man until his eyes adjusted. Dim shapes emerged from what had been a sea of black. Was that a pillar of stone ahead or the form of a man? He meant to call out but a sudden dread stole his words.
Luke spotted Edward among the men . . . and Davey. This was a surprise. He’d expected to die at the hands of strangers. He peered into the depths of the cave, searching. There, to the right. The tarnished gleam of a detonator cap caught the faint light. Luke swung his rifle barrel.
Murray saw the motion and shook off his unexpected fright. He could just make out the figure of someone standing with his back to him. Odd. Why wouldn’t a man face his pursuer? Slowly, Murray raised his rifle.
A snarl of unearthly savagery reverberated around the stone chamber. He looked wildly about as his terror returned. Then a fast-moving shadow, darker than its surroundings, launched itself at him from out of the very walls. Murray took swift aim. A deafening shot rang out and the huge black form fell motionless at the sergeant’s feet.
He heard Luke scream out, ‘No!’, then another rifle shot.
With a thundering boom, the roof rained down rock. Murray ran for his life towards the light. When he turned around, an immense curtain of stone had descended, shielding the boy and his dog from the sergeant’s horrified eyes.
CHAPTER 38
Edward took off his hat and held it to his chest. ‘I’m sorry, Belle.’
Belle’s face crumpled, her features clouded by tears. ‘No.’ She rammed her hands against her ears, rocking from side to side. ‘No, no, no.’
He moved to take her in his arms, but she slapped him away.
‘You were there,’ she said, her eyes wide and accusing. ‘Why didn’t you protect Luke? You should have protected him.’
Edward braced himself as Belle rained down blows on his arms, his chest. The pain went straight to his heart.
Daniel sprang forward and wrapped his daughter in a tight embrace. ‘Shush, my darling, shhh.’ He held her tighter, his own eyes filling with tears. ‘Edward did what he could for Luke – I’m sure of it.’
Daniel looked to him and Edward’s mouth went dry. He licked his parched lips. ‘Of course I did, sir.’
The lie choked his throat. He could have stopped this. He could have shielded Luke, but instead he’d urged Molly to betray him. Urged her to tell her story, reveal Luke’s true identity – even promised her a reward. He’d caused the man who saved his life to flee like a hunted animal, even providing the hounds. He’d killed Luke as surely as the rockfall had. If he could take it back, he would.
Another part of him felt a shameful liberation – free of his father’s shadow and with Belle all to himself. Everything he’d ever wanted, and he bore no public blame for any part of it. Private guilt over Luke’s death? That was another thing. It had stalked him during the long trek home from the ranges. It ambushed him at every turn, making him doubt his worth as a man as efficiently as his father ever had.
Elizabeth sat Belle down, dabbing her brow with a damp handkerchief and insisting she take some brandy. Edward’s eyes shifted to Belle’s waist. A little thicker than before, perhaps; evidence of the child she carried – not his child. At times he’d struggled with this knowledge, wondering if he could truly care for another man’s baby. Then it came to him: a way to atone for his guilt and make up for his own loveless childhood at the same time. He would raise Luke’s child to know nothing but approval and affection. For every insult his father had given him, Edward would give encouragement. For every criticism, praise. For every frown, a smile. The child would flourish in the warm glow of his affection. This would be his tribute to Luke. This would be his atonement.
He looked at Belle, at her tear-drenched face and stricken eyes, and felt a surge of hope so powerful it made him tremble. In time, her grief would pass. In time they would build a future together, a bright future filled with love.
CHAPTER 39
Luke lay across Bear’s body in total darkness. Numb. Drifting in and out of consciousness. The young tigers were safely sealed inside the hidden valley, and this knowledge brought with it a deep comfort. He stroked Bear’s head, praying for a miracle, a resurrection. No, his best friend was dead. Being alive himself
came as a surprise, but it wouldn’t last. Soon the air would run out and he’d slip away to wherever Bear was. Perhaps meet his father? At this sweet prospect he let his eyelids fall. He was done with life. Summoning the memory of Belle’s beautiful face, he waited for the end.
Hours later, Luke woke and opened his eyes. He’d been wrong. This was no peaceful hereafter. He was buried alive. The numbness had fled, and each fibre of his body screamed with pain. His gashed legs burned like fire, and broken ribs made each breath a torture. The swag on his back, wedged between Bear and a fallen boulder, anchored him in place. He struggled to extract the pocketknife at his belt, hacking at the straps until they gave way.
Luke writhed sideways, dragging the pack free and seeking to relieve the agony of cramped and contorted limbs. In blind panic he scrabbled at the stones above him. Pebbles rained down. He stiffened, resisting the urge to tear at his smothering prison. The roof was a jumble of jagged, precariously balanced rocks, jammed together, miraculously supporting one another. Any one might be the keystone that could bring tons of rubble crashing down.
Luke forced himself to be calm. Air was reaching the cavity, so there must be an opening somewhere. He inched forward. Then slowly and methodically he began to dig away at the rocks in front, moving them to an empty space behind him. Impossible to judge time or direction in the featureless dark. Was it day or night? Was he digging towards the cave mouth or to the rear? Would he reach freedom or find himself trapped with the tigers in the hidden valley? Luke could think of worse outcomes.
Digging, digging, digging, passing out, pissing where he lay – and repeat. Memories filtered back. He’d been hurled into the air by the blast. Bear had cushioned his fall, protecting him even in death. The dog had wanted him to live, and he had a duty to honour that courage. A duty to survive, to escape this black hole. To somehow make his worthless life count. Luke pushed aside the hollow thought that without Bear and without Belle there was no point in living.
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