Where the River Runs

by Fleur McDonald

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ she muttered. ‘How are you going to earn money here? You can’t stay.’

  Hearing a dog bark, Chelsea saw the motorbike was only a few hundred metres in front of her and she broke into a trot to catch Cal.

  Scout saw her before Cal did and he ran over, his long pink tongue dangling out the side of his mouth.

  ‘Hey, Scout,’ she said, bending down to pat him.

  Cal raised his hand in acknowledgement and turned the motorbike towards her, driving over slowly, his feet skimming along the ground to keep him upright.

  ‘How is he?’ he asked once he’d switched off the engine.

  ‘Looks like surgery for his ankle, but everything else is reasonably superficial,’ she said.

  Wiping the sweat away from his brow, Cal smiled. His teeth were pure white compared to the red of his face, which was covered in dust. His forehead was wet with sweat and his blue eyes stood out, set off by his shirt. He had the sleeves rolled up and Chelsea could see the definition of the muscles in his arms. It made her want them around her, holding her. She remembered how safe she’d felt when he’d given her a hug last night, after they’d found her dad. His body had been hard against hers, yet his touch soft. And suddenly she ached to feel him again. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch.

  ‘Poor bugger. God, I’m glad we found him when we did,’ Cal said.

  Chelsea looked down at the ground, her cheeks warm with a blush. She hoped he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. ‘I still don’t know what he was doing out there. I didn’t get to talk to him today because he was knocked out by the medication.’

  ‘I don’t think it was anything sinister,’ Cal answered, his face serious. ‘We’d been making plans the day before Christmas, talking about moving these sheep here,’ he nodded to the mob in front of him, ‘all the way out to the pines where there was a little feed from the rain. I reckon that’s what he’d started to do.’

  Chelsea nodded. ‘Well, that’s good to know.’ She paused. ‘I told the doctor about his memory lapses.’

  ‘Go back, Scout,’ Cal instructed. The sheep had come to a standstill under the trees in the creek. ‘Push ’em up!’

  Scout ran off like a greyhound and pushed the sheep, running from side to side, to get them moving again. The ewes took off with a startled baa along the creek line. One by one they followed each other as they tried to move away from the working dog. Scout kept an eye on the stragglers and hung back, making sure they didn’t stop. If they did, he gave a short, sharp bark and they bolted to catch up with the mob.

  Chelsea loved watching Scout work but soon he’d had enough and, without encouragement from Cal, he stopped under a large gumtree, scratching at the dirt to find a cooler spot, and flopped down. He looked over at Cal to make sure that was all right, then dropped his head and shut his eyes.

  ‘Oh, to be able to sleep like that,’ Chelsea said with a laugh.

  ‘What did the doc say about his memory?’ Cal was staring off into the distance and Chelsea realised he was dreading the answer.

  ‘You really do love my dad, don’t you?’ she asked suddenly.

  Cal frowned. ‘Yeah, I do. You know how I told you on the way into Barker that farming saved me? Well, it was more your dad, because he gave me the job.’

  He fell silent but Chelsea didn’t fill the gap. She sensed he was going to tell her something important.

  ‘I was living over in Victoria, working at an abattoir. But I wasn’t making enough money to pay off my loan for a second house. See, I’d been living with a woman and when she left me she was entitled to half of what I had, which was two houses—one debt-free. I had to pay her out.’ His mouth twisted and Chelsea could see it hurt him to talk about it. ‘I didn’t have the money, so I got another loan, but the interest was more than I could afford on the wage I was on. One of the blokes I worked with told me he had a way to make some extra money on my days off if I wanted. Don’t know if you know what it’s like to be desperate, but it’s not a lot of fun. So I asked what it was.’ He paused. ‘It was running drugs up to the border of New South Wales. It all went okay for a while, then one afternoon I had a police car follow me. I was on the way back from a delivery, so I knew I didn’t have any of the drugs in the car, but it scared me enough never to want to do it again.’ He stopped and ran his hands through his hair, before looking Chelsea in the eye. ‘I handed in my resignation at the abattoir as soon as I got back. Packed up my gear, not that I had much, and hightailed it home to Mum and Dad. The near run-in made me realise what an idiot I was being.’ He shrugged. ‘So I got home, looked in the paper, saw this job, applied and here I am. Tom worked out I had a problem and, about a week after he hired me, he sat me down to ask about it. I told him about the debt and he helped me work out a payment plan for the bank.’ He smiled. ‘I’ve paid it all off now and I’ve done it through hard work. Your dad saved me.’

  Chelsea didn’t know what to say, so instead she put her hand on his arm and smiled. ‘I’m glad he did that.’

  Cal covered her hand with his and held her eyes. For a second, Chelsea thought he was going to kiss her. She leaned in slightly, still holding his eyes. Cal’s slid away and the moment was gone.

  ‘What about his memory?’ he asked again.

  Clearing her throat and slightly embarrassed that she had misread the situation, Chelsea moved away. Kicking at the dirt, she said, ‘The doctor’s going to order tests when he gets to Adelaide. Ryan has to talk to Dad first, but—’

  ‘Who’s Ryan?’

  ‘The doctor. Once he’s talked to Dad, he’ll get everything rolling. He did say it could be stress related, but it may also be the early onset of dementia.’

  Checking the sheep were still moving, Cal said, ‘That’s what I was afraid of.’

  Chelsea said, ‘Me too.’

  Chapter 22

  Dave and Kim sat next to each other in front of the computer in their home office. Boxing Day had started off quietly for them before they made another round of visits to Kim’s customers. Today there hadn’t been any old stories or information Dave could draw on to investigate the remains, so they’d taken to searching Google and Trove.

  ‘Try “murders in South Australia in the early 1920s”,’ Dave said. Then he mused out loud, ‘Still, we don’t know if they were murdered or just died. What about “missing persons in the early 1920s”?’

  ‘Hold on, hold on! I’ve just done the first one.’

  They waited for the page to come up while in the background the Boxing Day Test commentators talked about run averages and a cracked pitch.

  ‘Okay, here we go.’ Dave ran his finger down the list. ‘Nope, nope, nope. All interstate. Geez, they were a murderous lot back then. Oh, here we are, this is South Australia. Have a read of this! “Woman found with her throat slashed in Hammond.” That’s not very far from here. 1902. “On Monday evening of the 25th of May 1902, Mary Anna Roberts was found in the pig pen on a property just outside Hammond in the mid-north of South Australia. It was just on dark when Mrs Roberts’ husband returned home to find her face-down in the pen. It was originally thought the pigs had mauled her after she fell into their enclosure; however, on further investigation it was found her throat had been cut with a ragged-edged knife. Investigations are ongoing.”

  ‘Sweet Mother of God,’ Kim said as she continued to scroll.

  ‘And this! “A child was reported missing from the town site of Wild Horse Flat after a team of Travelling Hawkers went through. Samuel George Daw, eight, had been playing in the small creek which runs at the back of the hamlet. He was reported missing when he didn’t return home for lunch. The Travelling Hawkers had left Wild Horse Flat early that morning, after Samuel had left home to do his morning chores. Investigations are still continuing.”’

  ‘How awful,’ Kim said with her hand on her chest. ‘What that mother must have gone through.’ She scrolled to the end of the page but nothing else caught their attention. ‘Shall we try a different search,
Dave? “Missing child”? “Missing man”?’

  He groaned. ‘That’d be like looking for a needle in a haystack. How do we narrow it down?’

  Kim turned to him. ‘So, what are we actually googling for? You’ve got the remains of a baby and a male skeleton that was possibly buried on the reserve seventy to eighty years ago.’

  ‘That’s about it.’

  ‘Right.’ Kim typed in ‘missing man and baby early 1900s’.

  ‘“Police arrested Arthur Clarence Dally in Toowoomba last night, in relation to Thursday night’s shooting. There is still no sight of his partner, Lillian Alice Dally, and police believe she is being harboured by friends. Anyone with any information is asked to contact the Toowoomba police station.” Not South Australia,’ Dave said. He frowned. ‘How does this Trove work? You type in something which is really clear and yet it comes back with all this other unrelated stuff.’

  ‘That’s why it’s called Trove. It’s a store of valuable things but you have to look through to find what you want. Don’t be so impatient. You might miss the best bit.’

  Dave glanced over at her and patted her knee. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ Kim kept her eyes on the screen and rolled the mouse with her finger. ‘More shootings, gambling …’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Engagements. Ha! I wonder if we could find our engagement notice.’ Quickly she typed in their names and hit send.

  ‘We’ll be too recent, won’t we?’

  ‘Probably, but it’s fun looking. Look at this.’ She pointed to the screen as a page of scanned newspaper came up. ‘There are all sorts of announcements on Trove going back to the 1950s. And further.’

  Dave stopped and thought. ‘Let’s do a bit of research on the Taylor family. Mr Oakes said that Tom’s parents were named Evelyn and Leo. Can we search them?’

  Kim’s fingers flew across the keyboard.

  ‘“Leo and Evelyn Taylor are pleased to announce the safe arrival of Thomas Leo Taylor at Calvary Hospital, Adelaide.” There we go, got them!’ Dave said, pleased. ‘Okay, can we go back further? To when they were married, or even the generation before?’

  ‘South Australia differs from most states in the amount of information they put on birth, deaths and marriage certificates,’ Kim said as she searched for more information. ‘They’re not as detailed. And I know this from when I was researching my family tree. Oh wait! I’ve had an idea—what about Ancestory.com? I’ve still got a subscription. If we can get the birth dates of some of the people you want to find, then I should be able to do a search for them.’

  Dave felt the familiar excitement flood through him. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘those cop shows on TV really do a disservice to us real cops. They’re always out fighting crime on the streets and talking to potential witnesses. No one really understands that ninety percent of police work is done behind a desk, and, my precious one, you’d make a great detective. But I’m sure I’ve told you that before!’

  Kim laughed softly, keeping her eyes on the screen. ‘Only because you’ve taught me well.’ She closed down Trove and opened another window. ‘Right, we need to start a new tree.’ Dave knew she was talking more to herself than to him, so he stayed quiet while she worked.

  ‘Name?’

  Glancing at his notebook he read out Tom’s full name and date of birth. He was glad he’d got all the usual information from Tom when he’d done the initial interview. Kim typed it in and then asked for Tom’s father’s name.

  ‘All I’ve got is Leo Taylor. Don’t know a middle name.’

  ‘Let’s just put in everything we’ve got. Hopefully we’ll get a little green leaf, which will give us a hint.’

  Ten minutes later they’d created a family tree which had very few details and nothing to indicate there was any extra help in the way of clues.

  ‘Damn.’ Dave scratched his head, feeling the excitement ebb out of him.

  ‘Hang on, we’re not done just yet.’ Kim flicked to another screen and typed the name into Google. Three pages in she found it: ‘“The funeral for Leo Graham Taylor will be held at the Barker Uniting Church on the 28th June 2003. The procession will then progress to the cemetery for internment.”’

  Dave pushed back his chair. ‘Want to go for a look at the cemetery?’ he asked.

  ‘Tell me why we’re out here looking for another needle in a haystack in the middle of the afternoon when it’s as hot as hell?’ Kim asked. She held down her wide-brimmed hat as a gust of wind from the north lifted dust and leaves into a small willy-willy.

  Dave read the directory at the front gate. It seemed there was a whole family of Taylors buried here.

  ‘We’ve got Adelia Taylor dying back in 1993, then Leo and Evelyn and Philippa. Then there are younger ones: Crystal, Andrew and Dale. Shit. Those first two, they must have been stillborns or died straight after birth. Look here: Crystal was born on 29 June and died on the same day, whereas Andrew was born on 4 June and died the same day.’ He stared at the names on the board, sadness spreading through him.

  Kim stood next to him, linking her arm through his, and looked silently at the words in front of her.

  ‘These must be Chelsea’s brothers and sister. I’d forgotten you said Dale had died recently. Remind me again how he died and what the circumstances were.’

  Kim took a deep breath. ‘It was awful. I don’t know all the details but there were three or four kids involved. Kelly and Shane Hunt, you know the people who own the Giftory?’

  Dave turned to look at her. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Them and Jason Putter. Then there was Dale, Chelsea’s brother. They’d been drinking at the caravan park kitchen, celebrating Kelly and Shane’s engagement. It’d been the talk of the town because it was a bit of a Romeo and Juliet scenario. Their parents had been at loggerheads over the placement of a boundary fence. Kelly’s parents owned a caravan park on the outskirts of town and Shane’s owned the pub next door. It had originally all been owned by one person, but when the previous owner sold, he made more money by splitting it in two. The settlement agents didn’t pick up that the fence wasn’t in the right spot. It cut off about ten metres from the park and they needed it to be able to add more cabins. They tried to buy some of the land from the pub, but the owners refused. Then they discovered the land was actually the caravan park’s but, because the pub was using the land, they didn’t want to give it back. Then all hell broke loose. Anyway, none of that really matters, but you can understand the problem.’

  ‘Small-town rifts can be the start of dreadful wars,’ Dave said, nodding.

  ‘So, when those two announced their engagement, the town held its breath. Both sets of parents said they were happy about it—through gritted teeth.’

  ‘So how did this affect Dale?’

  ‘They were all mucking around, play fighting and carrying on—Shane, Jason and Dale. Then apparently Jason launched himself at Dale and got him in a headlock. They accidentally ran into a wall and Dale’s neck was broken. He died before the ambulance arrived.’

  ‘Shit.’ He kept looking at Dale’s name and thinking about having to be the police officer who did the inform on that. No parent ever expected their child would go out to a party and never return.

  After another gust of wind and a shower of dirt granules Kim pulled at his arm. ‘Come on, let’s get the info you need and head home. We’ve got work ahead of us if you want to put all of these people into the family tree.’

  They opened the gate and wandered among the graves, taking notes of the family names, dates of death and, if they were available, birth dates.

  Down at the older end of the cemetery, Kim found a grave that had caved in, leaving a gaping hole around the edge.

  She frowned as she stared at the hole. ‘Hey Dave!’ she called. ‘Come and look at this!’

  Dave finished what he was doing then walked over.

  Kim pointed to the hole and said, ‘Do you think they’ve escaped?’

  He burst out laughing. ‘Well, if they have,
I reckon it might have been a while ago!’

  Back in their office, Kim entered the information they’d gathered while Dave seasoned some steaks and heated up the barbecue. He poured a glass of wine, placed it on the desk in front of her and started to massage her shoulders.

  ‘Found anything?’

  ‘I’m not sure. This is certainly a little odd.’ She pointed to Adelia’s name. ‘It says here that Adelia was married to Oscar and he’s named as the father on the birth certificates for Leo and three other siblings, whom we didn’t find in the cemetery. See here, I was able to access the birth certificates. But she was married to Baxter.’

  ‘People often go by their middle names. Or nickname.’ Dave said. ‘Maybe his real name was Oscar …’

  Kim nodded. ‘Hmm, maybe. He’s not got a date of death that I can find, or a place of burial. He’d have to be dead now, because he was born in 1905.’

  ‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you? He’d be one hundred and thirteen and, as much as he might’ve had a good constitution, I don’t reckon it would’ve been that good!’

  ‘Exactly. I need to do a bit more research on Oscar and see if I can find him. He’s probably been buried in a different cemetery with the other kids.’ Kim picked up her glass of wine and took a sip.

  ‘Where else can you look?’

  ‘I’ll go through Trove again and see if I can find a death notice. If not, I’ll go to the Births, Deaths and Marriages office and see what they’ve got. There has to be a record of him somewhere.’

  Dave thought for a moment. ‘Or not.’

  Chapter 23

  ‘Come on, we need to get going,’ Cal said as the sun dropped below the hills and a chill came into the air.

  ‘I’ll walk.’

  ‘Nah, get on here. You’ll be right. I won’t let you fall off.’