The crowd went wild.
Chapter 14
Macca had wandered off in search of rum, so the girls crawled on hands and knees through the wreckage to an esky they’d hidden in the shadows of the tent walls. Grabbing a cruiser each, Bella slammed the esky lid shut, the effort causing her tummy to protest loudly to her brain.
‘Jeez, Irish cream and butterscotch schnapps is a lethal brew,’ she muttered as she tried mentally to force her insides to settle. She really wanted to spew.
‘Yeah, too right, totally lethal. Just like a real cowboy, a dick or a gun, hey – it’s much the same: one fatal shot and you’re out.’ Patty made the shape of a pregnant belly with weaving hands. This sent the pair into peals of hiccuping laughter. The seething crowd of drunks in the beer tent started drifting their way, ignoring the scrunching of glass underfoot. A hobnailed boot stomped down near Bella’s hand. ‘I reckon we should get out of here, Pat Me Tuffet, before we get trampled.’
‘Okay, but you’ll have to help me get up.’
‘What makes you think I’m in any better state than you?’
‘You owe me, girlfriend, big time. If I hadn’t stuffed those boobs of yours into that singlet, you could’ve had dirty male paws all over you by now.’
Bella shuddered. ‘Okay, so I owe you, but I’m going to grab my vest before we go. I always feel cold when I’ve had too much grog.’ Helping Patty to her feet, Bella grabbed an oilskin vest from beside the esky and started to make her way through the crowd towards the tent doorway. In the distance a band started strumming the first few bars of the classic ‘Khe Sanh’.
She loved that song.
Halfway to the exit Bella stopped and bent over. ‘Shit, I shouldn’t have stood up.’ A pinch to her butt cheek had her back upright. Turning her head all she could see was a big black hat and a very male Wrangler butt. ‘Whoa, mate. Don’t touch what you can’t afford.’
Patty grabbed hold of her hand and tried to tow her towards the doorway.
‘Jeez, I feel crook,’ said Bella. Burning bile was rising in her throat and her body started the pre-vomit sweats. ‘Let me outta here.’ Shaking away Patty’s hand, she took off in a shambling run, making it to the canvas tent opening in record time.
Eddie Murray was mightily uncomfortable. The tumbledown wattle-and-daub walls of the old hut where he was hiding were full of ants; inch-long, black, angry jumping jacks pissed off their hiding place had been usurped. Hidden from the beer tent’s view by crumbling clay, rotting wattle and a thicket of blackberries, Eddie lay face up on the hard, packed ground contemplating his options.
To stay or not to stay.
The most sensible idea would be to get the hell out of Dodge, or Nunkeri in this case, while he was still in one piece. Those blokes in there had looked very pissed off, and Eddie was happy with his face the way God had given it to him, although his height always caused a bit of concern.
He was damned sure that if he was spotted again the bushmen’s reception wouldn’t be so restrained. But Eddie had never been known for doing the sensible thing. That’s why he was so successful in high-powered finance. Living on the edge was what he did.
He slapped at an ant on his moleskin-clad haunch, once again marvelling that the little black buggers could bite through such thick material. He rolled onto his front and peered over the crumbling clay wall. Surely there had to be an easier way of getting a Penthouse romp with lusty, hay-covered sheilas.
A retching sound drew his attention back to the tent he’d recently exited. A girl staggered from the tent’s opening, her body listing from side to side. Peering hard through the blackberry bush and surrounding gloom, he couldn’t believe his luck. It was the blonde.
Under the floodlights he could see sweat glistening across the top of her heaving cleavage. A tumble of ringlets covered most of her face as she was obviously trying hard not to vomit. She halted in the reflected glow of the generator-driven lights and pushed the sun-bleached curls from her face with the back of her hand. Eddie caught the upward movement of those glorious breasts as they threatened to topple from their restricting cradle once again. He felt his dick harden in an instant and he knew he couldn’t and wouldn’t ‘get the hell out of Dodge’.
Not just yet anyway.
Through slit eyes Bella glimpsed a long, low stock trough. Drawn to the cool moonlit water, she moved in its direction, willing her legs to scramble the last ten metres. Ignoring the icy cold, Bella thrust her face into the water hoping to cool the heated sweats trembling through her body. A couple of seconds later, she had to admit it wasn’t going to work. Again swallowing down burning bile, she dragged her head and arms from the trough. Spotting Patty fifty metres away, near the entrance to the port-a-loo semi-trailer, Bella lurched towards her and grabbed Patty around the shoulders. ‘I think I’m gunna puke, Pat Me Tuffet.’
‘Yeah, me too. Best head for the loo, mate.’
Patty had a pale, milky sheen of perspiration smeared across her face, the telltale sign of a queasy stomach about to let rip. The pair clambered their way up the steep port-a-loo steps using handrails to haul their bodies into the dimly lit semi-trailer.
Caroline Handley was already there, leaning her diminutive frame against the wall. Bella hadn’t seen Caro since she’d left Burrindal to train as a teacher in Melbourne. Caro had always preferred bright lights over the bush.
‘Hey, girls! I haven’t seen you for so long and the minute I see you again, you’re back up Prudence Vincent-Prowse’s toffy nose,’ said Caro, smiling. ‘She really wanted to win that drinking competition. Had her sights set on a night out with Will. She’s real keen on him, you know.’
‘But Will’s with m—’ Bella bit off her sentence. Caro had no idea what happened in Queensland six weeks ago.
‘He’s with who?’ Caro moved forward eagerly, eyes blinking with interest.
‘Sorry, I was thinking of someone else.’ Bella shut her gob in case she revealed anything more.
Caro went on, ‘Prowsy’s really pissed off. You know what she’s like, always wanting to win – and what she wants she gets. The blokes have no idea that underneath all that honeyed exterior is a high-maintenance bitch. She was threatening to use those Paspaley pearls of hers to choke you two.’
Bella grinned. Bring it on, she silently vowed.
‘And Prowsy’s never been able to hold her liquor, not like you guys. She’s passed out over at her parents’ camp. That girl’s as thick as a brick shithouse . . .’
Bella zoned out from Caro. Where was Will? She should’ve asked Macca if he was here. What if he hadn’t wanted to leave the station so soon after being away up north? Disappointment seeped into her heart. Then, it was probably just as well he wasn’t here; his view on the Bella and Patty shot-shooting show wouldn’t have been pretty. And then there was the ruckus with that city slicker. Bella shook her head. Nothing she could do about it now. At least if he only heard about it, she could say it was all wildly exaggerated. Besides, it didn’t matter what Will thought. Did it?
Bella tuned back into Caro just in time to see her face go white and her body start to wilt against the wall. She whispered so softly, Bella and Patty had to crane their necks to hear. ‘I’ll let you two in on a secret. If I move from here, this wall is going to tumble.’
Bella peered at her. She knew who was going to tumble and it certainly wasn’t going to be the wall.
‘I swear I’ll never to do this again. I feel awful, and I’m going to have to leave this poor wall to its own fate now ’cause . . .’ Caro bent over double and started to retch. Long, silky, straight hair fell into the puddles of muck on the floor. And watching Caro wilt brought the bile back into Bella’s mouth. Her vision started closing in. Perspiration erupted from her pores. She shot a glance towards Patty; saw she was the same.
A couple of toilet doors behind them simultaneously swung back on their hinges as the occupants tumbled out. In unspoken collusion the three girls flung themselves at the open doorways. Toilet paper covered a fl
oor floating in water, pee and mud. The girls couldn’t have cared less, as they threw themselves down in front of the loos and vomited – all that good liquor wasted as it washed into the toilet bowls.
Eventually they staggered out to wipe their faces with wet paper towels. Bella looked around at the little group and her quivering body erupted into shaky laughter. ‘Sheesh, those cock-suckers don’t taste nearly so good second time round.’
Chapter 15
‘So, what shenanigans did you two get up to in the wide open spaces of the outback?’ Caro asked a long time later as they rested on the grass.
The vomit session, followed by another dousing of cold water, had sobered Bella up. Leaning against one of the forty-four gallon drums serving as rubbish bins that rimmed the area outside the port-a-loos, she struggled to reply.
How best to succinctly describe their year away? Idly listening to the country music from the distant stage, Bella tried to form into a one tangible thought the most important lesson she’d learned from the University of the Outback; one she hoped would stay with her for life.
A person didn’t need a university degree, loads of money and material possessions to have a wonderful life. Whether it was way out west or up in the mountains, nature ruled the beast, two legged and four. The bush was your university, money equalled enough to get by and materialism was non-existent. The essence of life wasn’t about ‘stuff’; it was about living.
How could she explain something she felt so deeply within her being, so deeply inside her soul? She couldn’t. And Caro looked like she had fallen asleep anyway.
A huge burst of sparks and embers spat into the air as a burned log abruptly shifted on the bonfire. Crashing down into the centre of the fire, it split and splayed before settling. Will shifted his body into a more comfortable position. The bloke who’d given him the can of rum was now standing beside old Wes, an arm around his shoulders, whispering in his ear.
Will could see a similarity in the two faces, one smoothly shaven, the other wrinkled and stubbled with grey wire bristles. The same long aquiline nose, maybe? Or was it the double set of arctic blue eyes that glinted in the leaping flames in front of them? The younger man slapped the older one on the back, the air around them filling with guffaws.
The younger bloke, noticing Will’s interest, left the octogenarian and came back around the fire, planting his butt beside Will on the stringy-bark log. ‘It’s a good night.’
Will nodded in agreement while raising his can. ‘Thanks for the rum.’
‘That’s all right. As I said, the next round’s on you. Cheers.’ The man’s private-school accent spat plummy vowels from his mouth as fast as machine-gun bullets.
‘You’re on,’ said Will, laughing. He stuck out his right hand. ‘I’m Will O’Hara.’
‘Trinity Eggleton.’
Will tried hard to keep a straight face as his hand was pumped up and down.
‘Yes, I know. What were my parents thinking? Trinity. I was definitely standing at the back of the line when God handed out parents, or names at least.’ Trinity shrugged. ‘I’m over it. Hellish at school, though. Everyone calls me Trin now. Except my parents, that is. They reckon at the grandiose age of twenty-seven I am the Trinity; the divine all-in-one, the only child, holder of the Eggleton family expectations, all your eggs, pardon the pun, in one basket.’
‘Right,’ said Will, a little baffled. ‘That must be a bit difficult.’
‘You could say that. That’s my grandfather there.’ Trin pointed to old Wes, who was about to sit on a hard wooden chair someone had dragged from goodness knows where.
‘Wes is your grandfather?’ Shock caused Will’s voice to rise to choirboy levels.
‘Yes. He’s my mother’s father. I didn’t know about him until a while ago.’
Will stared at old Wes, remembering now that Maggie had once told him the couple had a daughter somewhere. The old fellow looked like he was starting to recite a new poem, sitting backwards on the chair, rocking it like he was riding a horse.
‘“The Geebung Polo Club”?’ guessed Will to his new friend.
‘I’d reckon so.’ Trin sighed and then went on, ‘The old man’s great. No expectations beyond where his next beer or rum’s coming from. It’s bloody marvellous.’
Will noticed the plummy voice was slightly slurred.
‘Shit. There I go again. What am I saying; you don’t want to hear about my worries. Where are you from? What’s your story?’
Will looked out across the fire towards the mountains rimming the valley, where the twinkling lights from hundreds of small campfires set the whole plain aglow. A couple of thousand people were camped here tonight. He guessed they all had families with secrets of their own.
‘I’m from Tindarra,’ said Will, waving his hand out to the south-east. ‘Over that-a-way. I live near old Wes. Run a few cattle and grow lucerne. How ’bout yourself?’
‘I’m a tooth-puller. From Melbourne. Over that way.’ Trin grinned and waved to the west.
Trin moved up a notch in Will’s estimation. He might be a city boy but he knew how to take the piss. ‘So what are you doing here?’ Will was intrigued. Why had old Wes never mentioned he had a daughter and a grandson?
‘I’ve been staying up at Ben Bullen Hills on and off. Fixing up the homestead there with Wes. The whole family’s a secretive bunch, so I’m not surprised he hasn’t told you. I was really pissed off my mother didn’t tell me about my grandparents. I’d assumed all these years they were dead, and she never disabused me of the notion. Apparently Wes and my grandmother didn’t like my father. They had a falling-out with Mum and never made up. Pride runs deep in my family.’
‘So, how’d you find out about them?’
‘I found a letter Wes sent to my mother after my grandmother died. They hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since my mother eloped with my father.’ Trinity then seemed to struggle, like he was trying to work out how much to say. ‘I decided after that little effort, I was done with fulfilling my parents’ dreams in dentistry. I’m now going to pursue a few dreams of my own.’
‘What sort of dreams?’
Trinity hesitated before going on. Then it came out in a rush. ‘Head bush, become a farmer and get to know my grandfather before he kicks on.’
‘So, what are you doing about it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If you want something bad enough you’ll do something about getting it. Do you really want to move to the sticks and become a farmer up here? Not much money in it.’
‘Yes, I surely do and I don’t care about the money. Not anymore.’ Trin’s gaze drifted to his grandfather still rocking his ‘pony’ on the other side of the fire.
‘So, what are you doing about it?’ Will wasn’t going to let him off the hook.
Trin honed back in on Will. ‘You sound like you know what you’re talking about.’
‘Oh believe me, I do. I certainly do,’ said Will. Sudden visions of Isabella Francine Vermaelon danced before his eyelids . . .
‘Earth to O’Hara, earth to O’Hara . . .’ Trin’s voice permeated Will’s erotic dream.
‘What was that?’ Will was mildly pissed off at the interruption.
‘You were asking what I was doing about becoming a farmer.’
‘Yeah, I was.’ Will tried to look contrite. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘It’s a girl, is it?’
‘What’s a girl?’
‘This thing you want really badly.’
Will looked at Trinity Eggleton and now he pondered how much to say. The eyebrow rose once again. Will shrugged. Better told to a stranger than someone who really counted. ‘Yeah, it’s a girl. Not just any girl. It’s the girl.’
‘Mmm,’ said Trin. ‘Quite a statement. The girl, huh? So I guess it’s a bit tricky if it’s causing a problem?’
‘Yeah,’ sighed Will, ‘you could say that. She’s a flighty young filly. Six years younger than me, my sister’s best mate.’
‘Right. You’d better point her out to me; otherwise I might try and crack onto her myself.’
‘Oh, she’s not here – at least I don’t think so. But if you see her I reckon you’d know her. She’s a hot-looking blonde.’ Will sketched a curvy figure in the air with his hands.
‘There’s a few of them around tonight. I’ve just seen the most gorgeous-looking creature over near the loos. Long, straight, blonde hair. She’s a bit worse for wear but her willowy body certainly did it for me. I wouldn’t mind knowing who she is.’
Will let out the breath he’d been holding – Trin’s description didn’t match Bella. A long-haired blonde with a willowy body in no way described Bella’s tumbling white gold curls and buxom figure. ‘Well, mate, just point her out to me, I’m sure I could tell you. My family have lived around here for a while and we know a few people.’
‘I just might take you up on that one, old fellow. She was pretty hot.’ Trin looked across at his grandfather, who was bringing his poetry recitation to an end. ‘I think the old man over there might need his grandson’s help to get off the chair.’
Trin stuck out his right arm and shook Will’s hand. ‘Great to meet you, mate.’ Coming from Trin, the word ‘mate’ sounded foreign and strangled.
‘Yeah, good to meet you too, Trin. Sounds like we’ll see you around?’
‘For sure, Will. You can count on it.’
As Trin moved off towards his grandfather, Will swigged the last of his can and pondered on the surprise revelation that old Wes had a grandson. And, just how did a city dentist turn himself into a high-country cattleman?
As he observed the striking paradox of long, lanky Trinity Eggleton gently helping little, gnarled Wes Ogilvie from his hard wooden seat, he couldn’t help putting voice to the thought. ‘If anyone can manage such a culture shock, I reckon it could be him.’
Bella's Run Page 10
