Red Dirt Country

by Fleur McDonald

  ‘Two, I rang my mates at the saleyards and asked if there had been any Brahman cattle sold through there in the last three months. They faxed through thirty-two weigh bills for me to look at.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Dave turned to look at him. ‘Do tell.’

  ‘Three of those weighbills were for BP Shepard Enterprises. He’s sold ninety Brahman steers and fifty cows.’

  Dave’s heartbeat kicked up another notch. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘True story.’

  ‘What are we doing now then? Why aren’t we arresting him?’

  ‘Come on, Dave, you know we have to prove this without doubt! We need photos of him pinching the stock from Spinifex Downs, or the stock in the saleyards with the wrong brand being sold under his trading name—even then, a good judge will call that circumstantial. Nope, we’ve still got a bit of work to do yet.’

  Dave followed the map with his finger, then looked up. ‘Turn right here, reckon it should be Courtabilly Road. Then Boyd’s front gate is about three k down here.’

  Bob checked the speedo and worked out the kilometres. ‘It should be about … Yeah, look. There it is.’ He pointed to an open gate to a dirt track leading into the farm.

  Two minutes later they were pulling up at a homestead that looked like it hadn’t had a woman’s touch in many years.

  ‘Hello?’ Dave called out.

  Bob walked up the steps of the house and banged on the door. ‘That’s bloody disappointing, he’s not here. We’d better check the shed and see if he’s down there.’ He gave a wink and Dave knew that they didn’t need a warrant to enter the property if they were looking for Boyd.

  Around the back of the homestead, towards the shed, there were sheep yards. Large weeds were growing up through the rails and Dave could see where wooden boards had fallen off and split. He would’ve bet his last pay cheque that wild dogs had made it too difficult to keep sheep here.

  Further on there were cattle yards that were just the opposite: shiny, new steel ones. Dave walked over to them and pushed the gate into the crush open and shut. It slid like a dream.

  ‘Reckon these are used a fair bit,’ he called to Bob, who was over in the shed. ‘Nice tidy set. Bit like the ones we saw Kit and his crew working in at Deep-Water that day.’

  ‘Fresh shit there?’

  Dave glanced down. ‘It’s not steaming but I’d say a week or so old.’

  ‘Come and look at this.’

  Dave went to the shed and waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. In the corner was a small white truck.

  ‘Doesn’t have a cattle crate on it,’ Dave said, going closer.

  ‘No, but there’s cattle shit on the tray. The crate’s been taken off.’ He rubbed his finger along the edge of the tray. It came away with red dust on the tip. ‘It’ll be here somewhere.’

  ‘Shit, Bob, look at this,’ Dave bent down and put his fingers on a wheel. ‘Red dust.’

  ‘Yep. Take down that rego number, will you? Think we should see if it’s registered to anyone we know.’

  Dave jotted it down in his notebook. ‘Should we take some photos?’

  ‘Can’t really. Haven’t got a warrant.’

  ‘Shit!’ Dave said. ‘Reckon we’ve got enough to get one?’

  ‘Not yet. Everything is still circumstantial. Run that plate and we’ll have a bit more of an idea. I think Boyd is involved somehow. Who might know if Kit has anything to do with his extracurricular activities? We’ll have to work that out.’

  ‘I’m still not convinced about Kit’s involvement,’ Dave said. ‘I reckon he’s worked too hard for too long to keep people united in this shire. It doesn’t make sense for him to want to see Kev and his community hurt.’

  ‘Told you before. Best place for a criminal to hide is in plain sight. No one would ever suspect Kit of stealing cattle.’ Bob looked around. ‘There’s more to this. It’s bigger than just the stock. My gut tells me it’s to do with the history between the Spinifex Downs community and Boyd, but I …’ His voice trailed off. Taking a breath, he started to walk outside. ‘We’re just going to have to keep digging.’

  ‘Wish I could see some cattle,’ Dave said.

  ‘You and me both. Bugger to come all this way and not sight Boyd, too. Anyway, that was the risk we took. Come on, let’s get into mobile range and you can ring about the rego.’

  Fifteen minutes later, Dave hung up the phone. ‘It’s registered to Boyd.’

  ‘Mmm. Let’s call Kev. I’ve got a couple of questions for him.’

  Dave dialled the number and Kevin answered.

  ‘Real pleased you called, Dave. I’ve got something for you.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The alarm on the cameras went off last night. There was someone here—not an animal. A person.’

  Dave glanced across at Bob, who held one hand up as if to say, What’s going on?

  ‘Did the camera capture an image?’

  ‘Yeah, Sergeant, it sure did.’

  Dave chose his words carefully. ‘Do you recognise the person?’

  ‘I know who I think it is, but I’m not saying. I don’t want to be the one who gets accused like we did in town. You’ll have to come and get the camera.’

  ‘What you tell us, mate, it’s not going anywhere. You can give us the information.’

  ‘Nope.’ Kevin was firm. ‘When can you get here?’

  ‘We’re coming now. But we won’t be there before dark. We’re quite a way away.’

  ‘Come tomorrow, then. Don’t want you to drive in late at night; kids will be asleep and you might frighten the old people. First thing in the morning, dawn. The camera’s not going anywhere.’ Kevin hung up before Dave could say anything else.

  ‘Let’s get back up there,’ Dave said to Bob. ‘He’s got an image on the camera, but he won’t tell me who it is. Doesn’t want to be seen to be making accusations.’

  Bob swore. ‘Ridiculous!’ He pushed the accelerator down and headed north again.

  Chapter 32

  With an east wind blowing and a half-moon, the ute approached the community without its lights on. Boyd knew the wind in the trees-tops along the creek would make sure no one from the community heard their approach.

  ‘Pull up here,’ he whispered. ‘Need to be a long way away from them otherwise they might hear.’

  Kit pulled into a bushy scrubland area so the ute wouldn’t been seen, and reached over into the back, bringing out a bag. He upended it onto the front seat to check the contents. Gaffer tape, cloth bag and a steel bar.

  ‘Here.’ He handed Boyd a balaclava and a set of gloves. ‘I would’ve been a lot fucking happier if you’d managed to find those cameras before we did this. We’re going to have to be really careful.’

  ‘I looked,’ Boyd said. ‘Nothing on the front gate, or the mills near our boundary. I took the night-vision goggles, but there wasn’t anything. I reckon the bastards are bluffing.’

  Kit’s hand shot out and grabbed Boyd by the shirt front. ‘You’d better be right, otherwise we’re both going down.’

  Boyd brought his clenched fist down on Kit’s arm. ‘Don’t pull your arsehole crap on me. You forget, I know you better than anyone and your bullying won’t work with me.’

  Kit let him go and they glared at each other through the dark night, their chests heaving. Finally, Kit nodded. ‘You’re right. Sorry. Bit uptight about this. We’re good.’ He held up his fist and bumped it against Boyd’s.

  ‘Glad to hear it. You should know better than to take your temper out on me. Got me stuffed how you actually held it together while you were in public office.’ Boyd stalked off into the bush, leaving Kit behind.

  ‘Could’ve done with those night-vision goggles tonight,’ Kit whispered loudly.

  ‘You don’t need goggles,’ he threw over his shoulder. ‘You’ve got me. I was only wearing them before because I was looking for something.’

  Boyd didn’t hear Kit’s answer. Everyone thought his brother was the golde
n boy. The local celebrity, never put a foot wrong. People wouldn’t believe he hit his wife or yelled obscenities until his jugular stood out and his face was fire-red.

  Not like him; ever the drifter, the half-caste who didn’t have a mother. People would believe anything about him. He’d heard the blokes at the bar call him a sly dog. He hated that he’d never fitted into either the black or white worlds, while his brother slipped effortlessly between the two.

  The brothers were intertwined by blood and history. And some sort of half-arsed love that meant they could battle each other to within an inch of their lives, but if anyone else turned on the other, they were a united force. Their father had always impressed upon them that there was no one more loyal than a brother and so that’s how they were.

  Brothers. In arms. Devoted until the end.

  ‘Get back here,’ Kit hissed through the night and Boyd stopped until Kit caught up.

  ‘Dickhead,’ Boyd muttered as he heard his brother stumble over a bush. ‘Right?’ he asked as Kit found his feet.

  ‘Let’s get this over with. Have you worked out a plan yet?’

  ‘We’ll snatch him as a warning. Keep him alive. Let everyone think he’s dead, but we’ll let him walk home. Then there’ll never be any trouble with this mob again, while he’s alive.’

  They moved stealthily along the creek bank towards the community. The shadows of trees danced in the moonlight as they walked and the night sky smelled like rain was coming.

  Boyd held up his hand as a dog started to bark. The two men froze, and another dog started, then another. Holding up his hand, Boyd indicated to wait until the noise had died down.

  It didn’t take long before everything was silent again. Boyd walked on again, taking a track through some shrubby bushes towards the manager’s house.

  They could see a glint of moonlight on the tin shed, and in the distance a cow bellowed.

  At the bottom of the stairs into the house, Kit and Boyd stopped and listened. Gentle snoring came from within.

  ‘Surely it’s only him in there?’ Kit asked.

  Boyd nodded, just as a dog barked, this time much closer. Both men hit the ground and lay there.

  A voice from the community yelled out. ‘Shut up, you mongrel dog!’

  The dog, shocked into silence, whined and lay down, the chain rattling against the tin kennel.

  Pointing upwards, Boyd indicated they should climb the stairs. The snoring was getting louder.

  With light feet, they pulled open the front door, which gave a squeak. They both stopped and listened. All still quiet except for the snoring.

  They entered the house and, with a few more hand signals, tiptoed towards the bedroom.

  The curtains were open and they could see the body of the man they were after lying on his back, his arm thrown up over his eyes. His head was just off the pillow. Perfect.

  With slow, gentle movements, Boyd picked up the pillow and placed it over Kevin’s face, then fell on the sleeping man to hold him down. Shocked into wakefulness, Kevin started to struggle. The pillow muffled his cries and his arms lashed out, trying to hit the unseen perpetrator.

  Putting all his weight onto the struggling man, Boyd rolled until Kevin was pinned under him face down. Kit pulled Kevin’s arms behind his back, tearing at the tape at the same time.

  Kevin gave more muted cries while Boyd lifted his weight slightly to let Kit get to Kevin’s hands.

  Feeling freedom, Kevin instantly twisted away and got his head out from underneath the pillow, followed by one of his arms.

  ‘Hel—’ he started to yell. Boyd smashed his free fist into his face and Kevin went quiet and limp. The sting of the punch followed by the smell of blood made Boyd panic.

  ‘Quick! Come on,’ Boyd snapped at Kit, who was still tearing off pieces of tape. He managed to get one arm behind Kevin’s back and then the other one. Kit bound them tightly, put the cloth bag over Kevin’s head, then rolled him onto his back.

  ‘He can’t walk,’ Kit whispered. ‘He’s out cold. We’ll have to carry him.’

  ‘Not sure we can do that, the ute’s about half a k away.’

  ‘Well, how else are we going to get him there? Why the hell did you hit him anyway?’

  Kevin groaned and started to move. This time it was Kit who snatched up the steel bar and struck Kevin’s head beneath the bag. There was a horrible crack of steel on bone and Kevin stopped moving.

  Boyd and Kit looked at each other, then Kit leaned forwards and listened for breathing.

  Nothing.

  ‘Fuck, I think I’ve killed him.’

  Boyd put his hand roughly on Kevin’s chest and felt it move. ‘Nah, these blackfellas got hard heads. Trust me, I know, I’ve got one. He’ll be right for now. Come on.’

  Pulling the cloth bag off his victim’s head, Boyd tore off another piece of tape and put it over Kevin’s mouth, before binding his legs as well.

  ‘Put the bag back on his head,’ he instructed as he wound the tape around Kevin’s waist, pinning his arms to his side. ‘That’ll teach the fucker,’ he said as he broke the tape off.

  ‘Look at this,’ Kit said, indicating blood seeping through the bag over Kevin’s head. ‘We’re going to leave a trail.’

  ‘Won’t matter, just so long as we get the hell out of here now. They won’t find us once we’re in the ute. Come on, grab an arm.’

  They seized an arm each and started to drag Kevin’s limp form from the house. His legs made a thudding noise as they walked down the steps and a dog barked again.

  ‘This is no good,’ Kit hissed. ‘We’re going to have to get the ute, otherwise they’ll hear us.’

  ‘Keep going,’ Boyd muttered. ‘Just keep going.’

  They stumbled their way across rocky ground for a few hundred metres until they reached the bushy scrublands they’d come in through.

  ‘We’re out of sight now,’ Boyd said, relaxing a little. ‘And with the wind in the trees the dogs won’t hear us. You right to keep going?’

  Kit stopped and wiped his forehead. ‘Would have been better to make him walk. Didn’t mean to hit him so hard.’

  Boyd gave a nasty laugh. ‘Nah, anyway he’d just yell and give us up. Not how I planned it, but better like this,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. He’ll get everything he deserves.’

  Kit and Boyd linked arms under Kevin’s shoulders and they trudged on in silence, pushing branches and sticks out of their way.

  A few minutes later Kit stumbled and fell heavily, the unconscious man landing on top of him.

  ‘Fuck.’

  ‘What?’

  Boyd heaved Kevin off Kit and tried to help him up. ‘You right?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ Kit answered, breathless. He placed his foot on the ground and pressed. ‘Fuck!’ He breathed heavily through his nose, trying to get rid of the pain. ‘No. No, I’m fucking not.’

  He tried again, with the same result.

  ‘Mate, I’m not going to be able to walk much. Can you get the ute?’

  ‘How the hell are we going to get the ute in here? We’re in the middle of the bush!’ Boyd snapped.

  ‘You’re going to have to drag him to a clearing and load him up from there. I’ll try to hop to you.’ He used the branches of the shrubs around him to pull himself up, swearing under his breath.

  Boyd wanted to hit something. Could this go any more wrong? He grabbed Kevin and started to drag him again, hoping Kit would be able to follow the noise and use the trees to help him along.

  Before he knew it, he also stumbled under the weight he was dragging.

  ‘Boyd? You right?’

  Puffing. ‘Yeah. Just came a cropper too, but I haven’t hurt anything. I think we’re far enough away that I can get the ute in now. Where are you?’

  ‘Not far behind. You go, I’ll watch Kev.’

  Boyd listened as Kit hopped along a few metres, and then he saw him emerge from the bush. They both looked at Kevin’s body lying on the ground.

&nb
sp; ‘He’s not going anywhere.’

  Kit slumped to the ground next to Boyd, his hands massaging his ankle. ‘Shit,’ he whispered quietly.

  ‘How bad is it?’

  ‘Better not take my boot off. Don’t think I’ll get it back on.’

  ‘Damn it to hell,’ Boyd muttered.

  ‘Come on,’ Kit snapped at him. ‘Get going. We’ve gotta get out of here before daylight.’

  ‘I fucking know, all right?’ Boyd got up and started towards the ute, stopping only to listen to the noises of the bush. A dog, a light breeze and the leaves rustling against the branches and bush. He knew when the engine started it was going to be loud.

  ‘Shit,’ Boyd said.

  Jackie awoke to the sound of barking. Not just barking, howling. Instantly alert, he rose from the ground and walked outside.

  He thought he heard the rumble of a vehicle, but then the wind gusted and the leaves rustled together and the sound was gone.

  Standing still, he listened longer. Harder. And a feeling of dread overcame him.

  With light feet and sure steps, Jackie walked quickly to the homestead. ‘Kevvy?’ he called out. ‘Kevin?’

  Silence.

  Climbing the stairs, he reached out to flick on the torch he carried. His eyes adjusted to the light and he stared at the floor.

  Blood. Drag marks.

  ‘Boy?’

  Padding towards the bedroom, Jackie looked in, already knowing what he was going to see.

  The bed was empty and there was blood on the sheets.

  ‘They’ve taken him,’ Jackie said to himself, uneasiness slipping into his body. ‘Stupid boy, I knew this would happen.’ He stared at the empty bed before going outside and sitting next to the fire, where the last embers were still glowing.

  ‘The past always comes back to haunt us,’ he whispered.

  He remembered bygone times. The noise of cattle hooves thundering through thick bush; the sound of stock whips and horses. The shouts of men as they rounded up cattle that didn’t belong to them. Staring hard into the embers, he hardly heard one of the other Elders come and sit down next to him.