Red Dirt Country

by Fleur McDonald

  ‘You started this, boy,’ Jackie had said. ‘You get in there and make sure no one points the finger at our people. Accuses us of taking their cattle. What’s done’s done. Can’t change it now, except to look after our own.’

  The Spinifex Downs crew were mostly young blokes, ones who wanted to try their luck riding the broncs or roping calves. They were dressed in their new jeans and brightly coloured chequered shirts and boots, their hat brims as large as their smiles.

  The rodeo had been talked about around the fire most nights, and the boys had been practising their grips; one had even gone down south to a rodeo school. Once he’d returned home, he’d taught the other boys what he’d learned. As much as he could without a beast to ride. They’d found an old forty-four-gallon drum and wrapped a girth around it so they could practise as best they could.

  As all the boys had climbed into the utes, their laughter and excitement had been felt by everyone. Everyone except Jackie and two other Elders who were sitting under a gum tree watching them, their faces solemn. One had leaned forwards and said something to Jackie—Kevin hadn’t been able to hear the words, but from the expression on his father’s face, he’d known it wasn’t in his favour.

  The feeling of foreboding he’d felt when he’d seen the copper’s troopy hadn’t left him, and there hadn’t been any contact with Senior Sergeant King, except for an email thanking Kevin for the video.

  But for now, at the rodeo, Kevin knew all he could do was what Jackie had told him to. Go with them and make sure all his young men were looked after—and hope that none of the people who had helped King with his enquiries were going to be pissed off with them. After all, he had made the comment about ‘neighbours pinching our cattle’. With any luck, neither his name nor Spinifex Downs would’ve been mentioned and the copper wouldn’t have mentioned what Kev had said.

  The three-hour trip to town had seemed to pass in a blur. He’d driven through deep, dry creeks with high red cliffs on either side and large flats of native bush where kangaroos and cattle grazed. Even though the feed was getting tight, the cattle he saw were in good nick. The wedgetail eagles feasting on roadkill and the beautiful white-trunked ghost gums and stony waterways should have captured his attention, but he kept hearing his father’s words in his mind: You started this, boy.

  Anger surged through him. Well, hell yeah. He had started it, he thought. And he’d finish it too.

  He jammed his foot on the brake to stop from running into the back of another ute that had come to a stop in front of him at the gate. Shit! He needed to pay attention. Two cars later, he paid his entry fee and was guided over to the car park, where he let the engine idle for a few moments before he turned the key.

  The smell of the camp ovens wafted across the car park, mixed in with hot chips and donuts. It all made Kevin’s stomach rumble; he hadn’t eaten today. Getting out of the ute, he locked it and turned to look at all the utes and vehicles parked on the dirt area near the rodeo ring. Judging by the number of cars, the whole district must be here.

  You started this, boy.

  ‘G’day, Kev,’ Jamie Crowden said as he walked by on his way to the main area. Kevin fell into step with him.

  ‘What’s happening?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, geez, just a bit of maintenance and fencing really. Not a whole lot,’ Jamie answered. ‘You?’

  ‘Yeah, same really. Mustering finished a couple of weeks ago and we’ve finished trucking everything out. The live export market picked up a bit this week. Nice to see a bit of joy in prices. Just wish I had a few more to sell.’

  Jamie nodded. ‘You’re right there.’

  A didgeridoo sounded across the oval, then piano and guitar joined in. There was a loud clapping and voices started to sing along and rise into the late afternoon air.

  ‘Got Djolpa here,’ Jamie said. ‘They’re a great band. Should be a good night. And I heard they were bringing in Jimmy Barnes too. Reckon that’s why so many have turned up.’

  ‘Make for a good night,’ Kevin agreed, looking around for his men. ‘Hopefully everyone has a good time and no one gets hurt.’

  ‘Wouldn’t be a rodeo without someone breaking something,’ Jamie said with a laugh. ‘I’ll catch up with you, Kev, all right?’ Jamie gave him a wave as he stopped in front of the stock agent’s tent.

  ‘Later,’ Kevin said, taking in the action as he walked. Groups of people were standing around, talking and laughing, all dressed in bright shirts and some in even brighter boots. His eyes stopped at the bar. A dark-skinned man leaned against the wall of the tent, watching him.

  Boyd Shepard. He had a habit of turning up.

  Kevin looked away without acknowledging him and kept walking. He nodded to a few people he knew as he pushed through the crowd and stopped in front of the rodeo ring, where the clown was running around the edge. Over the loudspeaker the announcer’s words tumbled out quickly and Kevin couldn’t quite understand them. Then the gate burst open and a bull bucked out into the ring, a rider on his back.

  ‘Here we go ladies and gents! One, two … Awww, and he’s off,’ called the announcer as the clown raced in to distract the bull and the rider got up from the dusty ground and ran to the railing, before hightailing it over the top. ‘Let’s not forget he needs the full ten seconds for the ride to count.’

  The rider wasn’t one of his boys, but Kevin watched for a bit longer, his hands hanging through the railing. Another rider entered the ring with the same result as the first, and another one. Every time they came off, Kevin winced, wondering why they felt the need to hurt themselves by riding in the first place.

  ‘G’day, Kev.’

  Kevin turned and saw Kit Redman standing nearby, a woman at his side.

  ‘Mr Redman,’ Kevin said, nodding.

  ‘Oh, come on, it’s Kit, please. You’re not a boy anymore, mate.’ He nodded towards the ring. ‘Going to have a go?’

  ‘Not a chance. The broncs aren’t my thing. I do enough that could hurt me without trying to.’

  ‘I’m with you,’ Kit said. ‘Do you know my wife? Tara, this is Kevin. He runs Spinifex Downs.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve heard about you, Kev,’ Tara said. ‘Doing great things.’

  Kevin looked down at the ground. ‘Thanks,’ he mumbled. Glancing up, he saw Kit’s hand possessively placed on Tara’s waist.

  ‘We’d better get on. Catch you round, Kev. It’s good to see you here.’

  ‘Sure.’ He watched as Kit moved his hand to the small of Tara’s back and guided her towards the bar. They stopped and talked to another three people before they made it inside, Kit’s large laugh cutting across the noise and chatter of the night.

  A quick glance showed that Boyd was still outside, watching. Kevin wondered if he was waiting for something.

  ‘Check out those Buckle Bunnies, huh, Kev?’ Harry said as he and Cyril sidled up next to him. ‘Wouldn’t mind …’

  ‘Shut up, would ya?’ Cyril nudged Harry. ‘They’ll hear.’

  Harry laughed, his slight shoulders shaking. He was almost dancing on his toes as he watched the girls walk by, while Cyril had his head down and was kicking the dirt.

  Kevin had never seen either of the boys like this before—they were usually more interested in horses, cattle and prices. He glanced over at the three girls, who were laughing, engrossed in their conversation with each other. They were slim and young, wearing loud coloured shirts and belts with a large buckle at the button of their jeans. Their hats were clean and, from underneath, long black hair hung down to their waists. They could’ve been triplets. Maybe they were. They didn’t look like they were going to have a go at riding in the rodeo.

  ‘I reckon you fellas should stick to the broncs,’ Kevin said with a grin. ‘Had a go yet?’

  ‘Nah, not yet. Put our names down, though, didn’t we, Harry?’ Cyril gave Harry’s arm a soft punch. ‘We’re going to.’

  ‘Yeah. Not gonna chicken out, but I still wouldn’t mind having a crack at one of the
m girls.’

  ‘On a beating to nowhere, Harry …’

  ‘Well, look who we’ve got here.’ A voice cut over Kevin’s advice. ‘The district cattle rustlers.’

  Kevin stiffened and turned to see Dylan Jeffries from Cassia Plains and Ethan Schultz from Paperbark Valley standing nearby. Their smiles were mean and their hands were linked into the loops of their jeans as though this was a casual chat. Kevin took a quick look around to see who might have heard their words. Boyd was still standing next to the beer tent, but this time he was turned away, talking. He couldn’t see the Senior Sergeant nearby, or anyone else who could help if things got out of hand.

  ‘What the fuck do you mean by that?’ Harry bristled instantly and took a step towards them. ‘It’s not us doing anything.’

  ‘Just what we said, man. Cattle rustlers. Big time. Don’t worry, we know it’s you lot over on Spinifex Downs and we’ll watch until we catch you. Don’t think you’re going to get away with it.’

  ‘Dylan, don’t make accusations you can’t prove. You’ll just get everyone wound up when there’s no need.’ Kevin took a step in between his men and the two troublemakers, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace.

  A group of young kids walked by, watching curiously, until one of them bumped into Harry, who whirled around with his fists up.

  ‘Harry!’ Kevin snapped.

  ‘Mate, how about you fucking back off to where you came from,’ Ethan said in a low, menacing tone.

  Cyril, whose head had snapped up at the first sign of accusations, gave a little smirk. ‘I think we already are.’

  A small crowd started to gather, and Kevin glanced around nervously. His dad had been right. These two were going to point the finger. Tell the lies they always had.

  ‘You pricks better watch what you’re saying about us,’ Harry said back. ‘You don’t know anything about anything.’

  ‘Enough,’ Kevin said warningly. He put his hand on the angry young man’s arm to calm him.

  ‘Why should we stand here and take that?’ Harry turned to Kevin, his voice loud and sounding like he was itching for a fight.

  ‘Hey, hey, hey, what’s going on here?’ Kit pushed his way through the group. ‘What seems to be the matter, fellas?’

  ‘Just having a chat to the cattle rustlers.’ Ethan spat on the ground near Harry’s feet.

  Harry pushed himself forwards, his fists clenched. Kevin reacted, but Kit got there first.

  ‘Hang on, mate,’ he said holding on to Harry. ‘Just steady up.’ He turned to Ethan. ‘I really don’t think that was called for. And you should all know that it was me who went to the police and it looks like Spinifex Downs has lost cattle too. So how about you hoodlums get all of the facts before you start throwing blame around.’ He looked at the two men, frustration showing on his face. ‘I thought we’d got past all this bullshit. This racial shit. You two are a disgrace.’

  ‘What do you mean, got past it?’ Dylan took a step forwards, but Kit held up his free hand and put it on his chest.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ he said, steel in his tone. ‘That’s enough.’

  Dylan spluttered before saying, ‘The government keeps throwing money at these two-bit operations. None of these blokes know how to work the land as well as we do. And to add insult to injury we have to pay our own way! The government just keeps on propping these pricks up. The major issue is that one group of people are given money over another group and they still steal cattle!’ Dylan had drawn himself up to full height. The redness in his face wasn’t from the sun and he was glaring at Kevin as he spoke.

  ‘Dylan, go home. You’re not making any sense. Clearly, you’ve forgotten we’re on their land and the more successful the Spinifex Downs crew are, the better off everyone is. We cannot,’ Kit paused for effect, ‘cannot let the past crowd the present.’

  ‘Need a hand here, Kit?’ Senior Sergeant Glenn King had managed to push through the ring of bystanders and now stood a few metres away from Dylan and Ethan, his hand on his gun belt.

  ‘I reckon we’ve got it sorted, haven’t we, lads?’ Kit asked. ‘Everyone’s going to go their separate ways and forget this ever happened, aren’t you?’ He eyeballed each man.

  Ethan opened his mouth, but Kit stared at him. ‘Aren’t you?’ The words were loud.

  ‘Come on, Dylan. Stupid fucks don’t know when they’re getting taken advantage of.’

  The two angry men walked away, casting furious glances over their shoulders as they went.

  Kevin watched them go, knowing that he could have trouble with them later. Their beliefs were too deep-seated to just dissipate overnight. The two men walked to where Boyd was standing. He turned around and looked at Kevin with a sneer of hatred on his face.

  ‘Right-oh, you lot, nothing to see. On your way,’ Glenn told the crowd, who started to move away, back towards the bar.

  ‘Mate, I’m sorry you had to hear that,’ Kit turned to the three men. ‘I didn’t think there was anyone who thought like that anymore.’

  Kevin glanced at Harry and Cyril. ‘Okay?’ he asked.

  ‘Fuckwits,’ Cyril snapped, while Harry still looked as if he were a bomb about to blow.

  ‘What happened?’ Glenn interrupted.

  ‘Nothing, just a misunderstanding of what people actually believe in this area,’ Kit said, shaking his head. ‘Got a minute, Kev?’ He inclined his head away from the others and started to walk away.

  Kevin glanced at his men. ‘Just stay away from those two tonight, okay?’

  ‘I’ve got them,’ Glenn said. ‘You go.’

  ‘Let me buy you a beer,’ Kit said, pushing Kevin towards the beer tent.

  ‘Nah, thanks. I won’t have one. I think I need to keep an eye on everything here.’

  Kit stopped and faced Kevin, ignoring the fact that people had to walk around them. ‘I hope you don’t believe we all think like they do, Kev. That way of thinking is not the majority.’

  Kevin kicked at the ground before answering. ‘Thanks for your words, Kit. They mean a lot.’

  Kit held out his hand and Kevin shook it.

  Chapter 9

  Dave had stopped at the traffic lights and he couldn’t control his excitement any longer. He fist-pumped the air. ‘Awesome,’ he said aloud. ‘So bloody awesome!’

  Thinking back over the conversation he’d had with Senior Sergeant Glenn King from Boogarin, he wondered what he would find when he and Bob got up north. They were going to have to go, there was no two ways about that.

  It had taken a couple of days to get hold of Glenn. Much to Dave’s frustration, the phone had kept ringing out. When he’d finally picked up, Glenn had explained the local rodeo had been on over the weekend.

  ‘Had a bit of trouble with the locals calling each other cattle thieves,’ he said.

  ‘I’m sure that would stir up some animosity between people,’ Dave said.

  ‘That’s the truth, for sure. Especially when there’re certainly two hundred head of cattle gone from Spinifex Downs,’ Glenn had said. ‘Trouble is, the bloke who first reported thought they were taken from his place but in fact they’ve been taken from the neighbouring property and run out through the complainant’s station.’ He’d paused before saying, ‘At this stage, we’re really not sure if Deep-Water Station has lost cattle or not; he was getting back to us on that one. Not long since the mustering has been done, of course, so everyone’s numbers should be up to date, but this has happened after that so they’ll need to go and get their cattle back in through the yards again and have a re-count, which isn’t a simple thing to do. The other consideration is that Spinifex Downs is owned by the local Aboriginal people and their place is surrounded by whites.’

  ‘Why is that a consideration?’ Dave had asked.

  ‘Because there’s still bad blood between some station owners and Spinifex Downs. There’re a lot of old blokes still on Spinifex and some of the old station families, they’ve brainwashed their young blokes. You know, the
ir fathers and grandfathers have instilled long-held beliefs. Only some, mind you, but enough to make trouble. It’s a whole different world up here, mate, and you’re gonna be learning on your feet. When are you coming? I can’t handle this by myself if it gets out of control. The trouble’s already started.’

  ‘As soon as we can,’ Dave had promised. He’d hung up and walked around the corner to the pub where Bob would be having his daily special and, before he knew it, they’d organised to leave the next day.

  The thrill of the chase was coursing through Dave as he pulled into the driveway at home. He couldn’t wait to tell Mel what was happening. He jogged to the front door, the excitement fizzing in his stomach.

  He put his key in the lock and pushed open the door, calling out, ‘Hi, I’m home. And I’ve got great news! The saleyards this morning were fantastic; bloody cold, but I met a few of the auctioneers. Learned a fair bit from Bob.’ He threw his keys on the table in the hallway and kept talking, even though nobody was answering. ‘You know how I said I thought he might be a bit of an old ditherer? Well, by hell he knows some stuff. He taught me—’

  Mel appeared at the kitchen door, wiping her hands on a tea towel. ‘Great news?’ she said, interrupting his flow. ‘That sounds good, what is it?’

  Dave walked over to her and pulled her into a hug. ‘I’ve got my first case. My first proper case on the stock squad and I leave tomorrow. This is what I’ve—’ He stopped as Mel stiffened, then pushed him away.

  ‘What? Sorry, you’re leaving to go where tomorrow?’ She put her hand protectively over her pregnant belly.

  ‘To Boogarin, about two days’ drive north of here. Bob and I are going—’

  Mel interrupted his excited talk. ‘For how long?’

  ‘Well, it’ll take two days up there, two days back and maybe four days of investigation. Just over a week, perhaps. But we won’t really know until we get up there and start talking to the locals. Might be a bit longer depending on what we find. This is exactly what I’ve been wanting to do, Mel.’ He put his hands on her shoulders and smiled at her, still feeling the adrenalin coursing through his body.