“H’m! Interesting, Ted. Most,” Bony conceded.
“Thought it might be.” Old Ted looked appealingly. “There’s the jam I mentioned. You’ll be staying here. Would you do me a favour?” Bony nodded. “Would you keep an eye on Tessa for me?”
“I shall be doing that in any case. Do you mind telling me what Tessa’s reactions are to, let us say, your advances?”
“Yes. I told her I loved her. I told her I wanted to marry her. She said she’d never marry a white man because Mrs Brentner wouldn’t stand for it. Then she grabbed my whiskers, pulled my head down and kissed me and ran off.”
The sentimental Bony smothered a sigh. The large weather-veneered hands on the table clenched and unclenched. Advice he knew would be resented, and, anyway, what advice could he offer? Time would be the only healer, but before time could do its work there might well be another killing at Deep Creek. He said, “Leave Captain to me. And don’t worry about Tessa. My judgement is that she can look after herself. She’s older than we know. Now go to Hall’s Creek in good heart.”
They stood to leave. Old Ted essayed a grin.
“There’s something else you might make head or tail of.” he said and Bony sat again. “I was riding home along the motor track from Paradise Rocks and came across two straight poles. Funny place to leave them. When I was out that way again they weren’t there. Now what would anyone want with poles out in the desert? Wouldn’t be to pitch a tent, and anyway half a dozen poles would be needed for that.”
“How long were these poles? How big, or thick?”
“Oh, I’d say they’d be seven to eight feet long. Fresh cut saplings. Looked to be a little thicker than my wrists; fairly straight.”
Bony opened the writing pad and rapidly sketched the position of the homestead with the Crater, and the Crater with the Creek.
“Put in the track from the homestead to Paradise Rocks and then mark where the poles were seen; and the date.” He watched the dotted line being drawn from the homestead to the south-east, passing southward of the Crater. He waited whilst Old Ted paused to consider before placing a small cross. “Good! Now the date.”
“Let me think! It was the day I came back from delivering cattle to Beaudesert. I know. It was 24 April. We all had a spell day on the 25th, being Anzac Day. Think it’s important?”
“Could be,” replied Bony. “When was it you noticed the poles had disappeared?”
“Couple of weeks later. I was riding that way to look-see what cattle were south from the Crater.” Old Ted was now tensed, and he waited for Bony’s next question with some eagerness. He was passed the rough sketch and requested to be as accurate as he could with the cross, altering its position if necessary. “Where I’ve put it would be right,” he said, and Bony was satisfied.
“You said you saw the poles that day you returned from Beaudesert, Ted. You would pass north of the Crater, not south.”
“That’s true enough. I sent the blacks home via the Creek, and I rode out five miles south of the Crater to check if cattle were sticking to a strip of fairly good feed. Boss asked me to.”
“An oddity. I like them, Ted. Quite often one is significant. You are being helpful. Can you remember if the poles had been cut with a saw or an axe?”
“Yes, I can. They were sawn at both ends. What was damned funny about them was that they were freshly cut, and yet there were no tracks of a car or a horse or a man anywhere near.”
“And you said nothing of it to anyone?”
“That’s so,” replied the bearded man. “I’ve been trying to work this thing out, but got nowhere.”
“H’m! Tell me, have you ever seen anyone wearing as a charm a small ivory Buddha?”
Old Ted slowly shook his head, then said hopefully, “Saw a Buddha tattooed on a man’s chest. Some time back.”
“Tell me about it: where, when.”
“I recall where. It was at Hall’s. There was a party of Indonesian students touring through to Darwin. Stayed overnight at the pub. You know, usual washrooms off the yard. Feller was shaving next to me. The Buddha was tattooed light-blue on his chest. You bring it to mind. About three inches by two.”
Pretending disinterest, Bony asked for the approximate date.
“When! Let me think. June or July of 1959. Yes, June of that year. Any use to you?”
Speaking slowly, Bony said he didn’t think so, and, having gained Ted’s promise to say nothing of any part of the conversation, they left for their rooms.
Chapter Eighteen
A Scolding For Tessa
A STRANGER might have thought the Brentners were leaving on a trip round the world. Outside the compound gate Young Col was servicing the large car, and Old Ted was stowing suitcases in the boot. Inside the gate Jim Scolloti was controlling Mister Lamb by a strap about his neck, and the two children were saying good-bye to both man and animal. About the outbuildings all the Aborigines, including even Gup-Gup, had gathered to watch the departure. They were in cheerful mood as Brentner had instructed Young Col to issue the tobacco ration.
As the car moved off to take the creek crossing the women and children waved, and, from the horse-yards, Captain shouted. Bony was left with Tessa and Young Col when the cook stalked back to his kitchen, taking Mister Lamb with him to receive a shred of tobacco.
“Sorry you were not with them, Col?” Tessa asked, and Bony caught the mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Never mind. I’ll look after you and Bony.”
Young Col tossed his fair hair back from his eyes and pretended to reach for her with his grease-smeared hands, and there was on his face nothing of disappointment.
“You will be looking after us, my Tessa,” he said. “I am the great big Boss of Deep Creek, so you keep that look out of your opalized eyes and don’t waggle your bottom at us. Bony’s an old married man, and I’m a confirmed woman hater. So you don’t do anything. I’m off to manage the station. See you at ten o’clock smoko. Hooroo!”
For a moment or two Bony and the girl watched him proceeding to the store room, and then Bony said he’d like to see Tessa’s book of legends. During the next hour they sat on the veranda, the girl sewing and Bony reading the neat handwriting in the book sold as a company minute book. When he put it down he was surprised by Tessa’s literary ability.
“I think, Tessa, you will go a long long way. You continue to astonish me,” he told her.
“Thank you. It comes easily. Do you think any of them are false legends?”
“Yes. I doubt that two are genuine. They fail because in true Aboriginal legends there is never prediction of the future, it is all of the past. So the one about the coming of the white men and then the brown men is obviously not a true legend. Where did you hear it?”
Tessa was looking at Bony with puzzled eyes. He could see she was trying to remember.
“I think it was in the camp,” she said. “Some time ago. It wasn’t long after I started to collect them into the book, and it’s two years since I started. What’s the other one you think isn’t true?”
“The last one entered.” Bony smiled, and his blue eyes were beaming with humour. “The one about the old lubra and the children who found legs of beef in the baobab tree. You see, I made that one up.”
“You did! I thought that was good, too.” Tessa laughed with him. “I shall have to be careful. You’re very deep, Inspector Bonaparte.”
“It comes easily,” he mocked her. “But, seriously, last night I jotted down several to relate which I’m sure are genuine. You must hear them before I leave at the conclusion of my investigation. Would you permit me to speak candidly about something else? You will remember that we agreed we shared a little secret, the powerful influence which kept us from returning to the tribe. Remember? It was pride in accomplishment. You have so much reason for pride that I would like to point out what might well be disaster for you. May I?”
Her dark eyes were wide, luminous with intelligence, and yet he was aware he would have to choose his words else th
e shutters would fall. He thought she was looking for deceit before saying, “All right.”
“Now I’ll begin by stating what I think to be true. For nine years, I think it is, you have been removed from your people and have lived in the sunshine of Rose Brentner’s strong affection, and Kurt Brentner’s strong protection. You are eighteen, and a woman. I can’t be sure but I believe none of the young men at the camp has interested you, and that you have given much more thought to education than to boys of your own age. You have given more consideration to becoming a teacher because you want to be one, as well as because you know Rose wants you to be, than you have to marriage.
“I’ve been seeing you as Rose sees you, but there are others who don’t see you as we do. I’ve found here a situation which could erupt into an explosion in which you also would be engulfed. There was that fight between Old Ted and Captain. There’s Young Col worrying over Old Ted. Captain and Old Ted are two kegs of gunpowder, and you are the match which might blow them and yourself to bits. It was I who insisted on the Brentners taking Old Ted with them.”
He had seen astonishment, alarm, resentment, flow and ebb in her eyes, and was hopeful when the shutters did not fall and when, now, she gazed at him with appeal. He said, “Far from blaming you, I feel sure you are not fully aware of the danger threatening because you have been so well protected that much younger girls at the camp know more than you of love. In this respect you have been placed to great disadvantage. I understand only too well the barriers by which you are surrounded, and this subject is no concern of mine excepting that we share the knowledge of the ever-present danger to the status we have achieved. May I go on?”
She was gazing beyond him to the creek trees when nodding assent. He thought the moment had arrived to whip lightly, “I suppose you don’t know that after the fight Old Ted oiled and loaded his rifle, and that it was Young Col who turned him from going after Captain. Think what would have resulted from the death of Captain, how you would have been ruined. You see, girls all over the world and of all races waggle their behinds at men, and are seldom hurt. But you can’t do that without courting your own destruction. As I stand physically between two races, you stand mentally between those two races. Tell me, do you love Old Ted?”
“I like him. I don’t know about loving him,” she admitted, still gazing at the distant trees. “He asked me twice to marry him. I don’t think I could. Rose would never forgive me. I don’t want to marry Captain, either.” The tears filled her eyes when she turned them on Bony. “I don’t want to marry anyone. I just want to go on as I am, not to be another lubra in a wurley under a tree. I—I waggled my bottom, as Col says, only in fun. I didn’t mean anything else by it. You understand so much you must understand how confused I am sometimes. There’s things I can’t take to Rose Brentner.”
“Because she would not understand. I know that, Tessa. No white woman could. Would you think about a spot of advice from grandpa?”
The answering smile was like a sand-dune emerging from cloud shadow.
“Permit pride to take a firmer hold upon you. Always keep vividly in mind that you are Tessa. You don’t belong to anyone. You are an Aborigine woman but you don’t belong to any Aborigine man. You don’t belong to anyone, not even to Rose Brentner to whom you owe so much. The only person who owns Tessa is Tessa. Get that clear in your mind and all the confusion will vanish. Want some more from grandpa?”
Her nodded assent betrayed eagerness.
“Well, then remember you can’t help having loyalties which sometimes war with each other. You can’t help being loyal to your own people as well as to the Brentners. The pity is that sometimes you cannot be loyal to both at the same time. For instance, the other evening you felt you had to be loyal to your people over the tale of Lawrence and Wandin, and then found yourself being conscious of disloyalty to the Brentners. Loyalties are a problem, and I know it. The only solution is to learn to be only Tessa, the Tessa who will decide for herself. And as for the men, you’ll know when you fall in love with one, and then you must decide about marriage without reference to others.”
Standing, Bony proffered the legend book, saying, “Meanwhile, I have to earn my salary and work in the office. I want to ask one question which you may answer or not. Did you tell Old Ted that, when returning that day of the last walkabout, Captain caught up with you and tried to seduce you?”
“Yes. I did. Captain didn’t do anything like that. I told Old Ted because ... I told him to pay him out for patting my behind. I’ve always been sorry about it. Thank you for speaking as you’ve done. I think I’ve grown up a little. I’ll have to, won’t I?”
Bony thought it a pity she should have to, and passed to the office where, half an hour later, Tessa found him browsing through the station work diaries, and called him to morning tea. Young Col was already in the day-house and he was welcomed with the usual flippancy.
“You must be exhausted, Bony, old feller-me-lad,” Col surmised. “Tessa says you went to the office to work. Thought detectives never worked just walked about and collared the criminals.”
“We have to pass the time between collaring criminals. I’ve been looking through some of the early work diaries maintained by Leroy. Those early years must have been really rough. Two entries refer to a man named Wilcha. Ever heard of him?”
Col shook his head and Tessa replied for him.
“Chief of the wild blacks; not now, though. He died. The present chief’s name is Maundin.”
“Good for you, Tessa!” Col said, and took another of Scolloti’s jam tarts.
“Ever seen Maundin?” Bony asked of Tessa, and she said she had.
“He visited Gup-Gup a few months ago. He didn’t look so wild.” The girl giggled. “He was wearing a long-tailed blue shirt and no trousers. Must have been a peace visit because he brought two lubras with him, and they didn’t even wear a shirt. Horrible-looking things.”
“The visit was, indeed, peaceful?”
“Yes, I think so. They didn’t stay more than two days. When they went away, Gup-Gup and Poppa and Captain went with them somewhere.”
“How long were Gup-Gup and Poppa and Captain away?” persevered Bony.
“Don’t know about Gup-Gup and Poppa. I saw Captain back the next afternoon.”
“So there is fraternization at times between your tribe and the wild blacks,” Bony said, apparently without much interest. “Someone told me of a place called Paradise Rocks. I think it was you, Col. Is that the head camp of the wild blacks?”
Young Col thought not, and Tessa supported him, adding, “Went there once with Kurt. You come to it without warning. Go over a long rise and suddenly there are the rocks and the wattle trees among them. There’s water bubbling up from the ground and running away for a short distance and disappearing again into the ground. The blacks have guarded it against the cattle and buffaloes by rolling rocks all round. The trees were in blossom, too.”
The girl’s eyes were shining. Her hands fluttered when describing Paradise Rocks and the bubbling water in the heart of the desert. She was wearing a white blouse and skirt and white shoes. A diamond-studded bar broach caught the neck of the blouse from widening too deeply, and on the second finger of her left hand was a moonstone set in gold.
This was the picture of her Bony took back to the office, and there he asked silently what had Rose Brentner really achieved? The girl actually wore her clothes with the subtle distinction with which Rose wore hers. Her voice was not unlike that of Rose Brentner, the enunciation clear and without accent.
Bony recalled that Tessa had appeared to emerge from the background of Deep Creek, to advance slowly but with progressive impact. And now, after Rose had gone off, Tessa was vivacious and belonged to Deep Creek homestead when Rose Brentner just failed to give that impression. Bony thought it probable that Rose did not know what she had done with this Aborigine girl. She had omitted sex instruction, had relied upon the isolation of the homestead and her guardianship to prevent male a
dvances, and thus Tessa’s education was unbalanced, lop-sided. The sooner Tessa was sent down to teachers’ college, the better.
However, back to work. Tessa had named the chief of the wild Aborigines, and had said he and his lubras had visited Gup-Gup, had stayed two days, and had departed in the company of his host and Poppa and Captain. It was sometime in March, the month prior to the murder of the white stranger. The two tribes were of the same nation, and they had long been in contact each with the other, as was proved by the treaty made between the wild blacks and Leroy and, after Leroy, Brentner. A visit, therefore, would not be unusual.
What might be significant was that when Maundin departed, the local chief and his medicine man, with Captain, went off with him and his lubras. Where to, and why? Especially with reference to Captain.
Bony had purposely refrained from questioning Tessa too closely. He wanted to avoid as far as possible testing her loyalty to her own people, feeling it to be unfair about a matter the elucidation of which might be obtained from other sources. For instance, Kurt Brentner’s work diaries. The current diary was on the top of the desk.
Bony began at 1 March. He came forward to 31 March, and found no mention of Captain’s absence. Tessa might have mistaken the month, he ran over the notes for February, and then began with 1 April. Ah! The girl had been mistaken. Under the date 19 April Kurt Brentner had written:
“Captain reported Chief Maundin in the camp, and asked for tobacco. I let him have two pounds of plug to keep the wild bastard sweet.”
Bony remembered he had asked Brentner if anything unusual had occurred during this period, and it would seem that the visit by Maundin was not thought to be unusual ... save to note it in the work diary.
The Will of the Tribe Page 13
