Standing in front of the sheep, she picked up the hatchet. The dogs stopped panting, becoming intent, their eyes following the gleaming steel. Raising the hatchet high, Alexandra lifted to her toes and gathered her strength. Then the wether looked up at her. She froze, gazing down as it somberly surveyed her, then she slowly lowered the hatchet.
The dogs stirred impatiently, scratching at fleas. Alexandra moved around to the wether's shoulder, out of its line of vision, and held its neck as she lifted the hatchet again. The dogs became quiet, their eyes raptly fixed on the hatchet once more. Alexandra composed herself, looking at the spot David always struck on the wethers he killed.
Then she thought about the bulging muscles in his brawny arm, the crushing force he put behind a heavy hammer to kill a wether with a single blow. She had a sudden vision of the wether thrashing about on the ground, merely wounded and its last moments passing in mortal terror and agony as she hacked frantically, trying to finish it off. She lowered the hatchet once again and turned away from the wether, going toward the camp.
The dogs hesitated, looking between her and the wether, then ran to catch up with her. As they trotted beside her, a couple of them growled and bared their teeth. At the camp, she dropped the hatchet and picked up her pistol, then returned to the tree.
Standing at the wether's shoulder with the pistol cocked, Alexandra took a firm grip on the skin at the back of the animal's head. With the barrel against the top of its head, she closed her eyes and turned her face away, pulling the trigger. The sheep jerked when the pan flared, as did Alexandra. Then the pistol fired and the woolly skin was pulled from her grasp as the wether dropped to the ground, killed instantly.
Hoisting the animal up to the limb by a rope around its rear feet was a struggle of a different nature, Alexandra heaving her weight against the rope. The dogs circled and watched, offering encouragement in the form of eagerly happy whines. The sheep finally dangling off the ground, Alexandra tied a piece of canvas over her dress and set to work.
The next obstacle was getting it to the camp, and Alexandra staggered from side to side under the heavy weight of the limp, canvas-covered carcass on her back. It was finally hanging from a tree at the camp, and none of the other sheep had seen one of their number killed. She wearily put up a temporary fold and drove the flock into it, then kindled a fire.
With no appetite, but hunger gnawing in her stomach, she put a large cut and a small piece of mutton on the spit. The dogs eyed the roasting meat and whined in anticipation as Alexandra prepared the rest of the meal. As soon as the large cut of mutton had cooked, she took it off the spit and fed the dogs.
Comfortably gorged, the dogs lay around the fire as Alexandra dished up her food. When she tried to dismiss her qualms and eat a morsel of the mutton, her stomach rebelled. Controlling the urge to retch, she spat it into the fire, then threw the rest of the mutton to the dogs. They gulped it down, and Alexandra ate the damper and rice and peas.
Having slept poorly the previous two nights, she was sagging with fatigue after another long, hard day. But when she lay down, the howling of dingoes in all directions kept her from sleeping soundly. They woke her several times, and when it happened again an hour before dawn, she stoked the fire and made tea.
The next day, driving the sheep on to the east, she found what had drawn the dingoes. Sheep that had died of thirst were scattered in the brush, the carcasses mangled where the wild dogs had fed on them during the night. A few dingoes still slinked about, and the birds rose and the carrion-eating lizards scuttled away from the dead sheep as the flock passed them.
The dead sheep were evidence that Alexandra was following the path the sheep had taken, but she began wondering if she would find any more alive. With dingoes about, that seemed even more doubtful. Crossing a rise, she scanned the surrounding terrain in the bright sunlight. The vast wilderness stretched to the horizon in all directions, and she saw foliage that indicated water in the distance ahead of the flock.
All morning Alexandra followed the flock at a slow walk, not even finding any more dead sheep. At noon, the water was straight ahead, in a valley over a low hill. The flock went over it, and when she reached the top of the elevation, Alexandra suddenly reined up, gazing down into the valley in amazement and delight.
The grassy valley below was dotted with sheep in bunches of two score or more. Estimating their number, Alexandra speculated that there were almost twice as many in the valley as those she had gathered. At the end of the valley was a large billabong, shaded by dense trees. The sheep had found ample water and graze, then remained there.
Scanning the sheep again, Alexandra saw no carcasses on the ground among them. The dead ones she had passed since daybreak had kept the dingoes satisfied, and the wild dogs had killed none in the valley. Smiling happily, Alexandra drove the flock down the slope.
When she took the dogs and circled the valley to gather the sheep, she saw that they were the very best of those that had broken away to the southeast. In their prime, the young, strong animals had continued eastward when the others had become exhausted and fallen behind. She sent the dogs into the thickets on the surrounding slopes, finding a few more, then drove all of the sheep to the center of the valley.
At one side of the valley was a granite cliff over a hundred feet high, its base dipping back to form an immense, lofty cave. As Alexandra unloaded the pack horse in it, she noticed Aborigine carvings and paintings from past centuries on the high ceiling. With the horses hobbled and grazing, she watched the sheep as they browsed. There were far too many for her to count, but she was certain that they totaled nearly two thousand.
Late in the day, the trail of scent left by the sheep she had driven to the valley drew dingoes that had been feeding on the dead sheep. Alerted by the growling of the dogs, Alexandra went around the flock and waited until the wild dogs were within close range. She shot one with her pistol, then dropped it and took aim with her musket as the dingoes raced away, bringing down another one.
The danger from the dingoes eliminated, she made a temporary fold in scattered trees near the cave, using all the rope she had. After taking the sheep to the billabong to drink, she drove them to the fold, which was barely large enough to contain them. As dusk settled, she kindled a fire at the front of the cave, the stone floor stained by fires of long ago.
Along with mutton for the dogs, Alexandra put a small piece for herself on the spit, roasting it until it was very well done. She tasted it gingerly, then found that she could eat it with her other food. Aching with fatigue, she still slept only lightly, any unusual noise or a stir among the sheep waking her.
Near dawn, as she made tea, Alexandra decided to stay in the valley that day. She was unsure of the distance to Tibooburra Creek, and of finding water along the way, but she did know that some of the sheep remained weak from their days without water. At daybreak, she drove the flock out into the valley and hobbled the horses again.
As the animals grazed, she thought about how bizarre her situation was compared to a few months before. In her wildest flights of imagination, she never would have dreamed that she would be tending a flock of sheep in the outback. But it was deeply gratifying, because she finally had the freedom and independence for which she had always longed.
Looking around the cave, she concluded that the Aborigines must have erected a scaffolding to carve and paint on the lofty ceiling. No trace of it remained, and the generations of ancient artisans who had made the enigmatic figures and symbols had been dead for centuries. The sole evidence that they had ever lived was markings on stone in a cave in a remote place in the immense wilderness of the outback. Only the immutable, eternal landscape endured, the people fleeting shadows against it.
Pondering that, she saw her own life on the same scale. In that context, her upheaval over her abduction, as well as the entire course of her life, was as transient as the glint of a dust mote in a sunbeam. She came to terms with what had happened to her, an inner tranquility replacing
her frustrated rage, and then she no longer hated the life that was growing within her womb.
At the first light of dawn the next morning, she drove the sheep north. Seeing a small spot of bright foliage a few hours later, she left the flock and rode to it. Among the trees was only a patch of mud, its surface dried into a maze of cracks. That afternoon, she saw bright greenery to the northwest and rode to it, finding another waterhole that had dried up in the summer heat.
At sunset, only the duns and browns of the parched land and sun-baked foliage extended to the northern horizon. In a wide, sandy valley, Alexandra used a straggling stand of small trees to make a fold, stretching the rope between them. The thirsty sheep bleated plaintively in protest as they moved reluctantly into the fold ahead of Alexandra and the dogs.
The other animals craved water, the dogs whining and the horses too thirsty to do more than nibble at the brown, dusty grass that grew sparsely near the trees. Alexandra tried to ignore her demanding need for water, as she gathered wood. After kindling a fire, she took out her water bottle and tin plate.
The dogs gathered around eagerly, lapping up the water as she filled the plate twice. She went to the horses and gave each of them a brimming plate of water, then the bottle was empty. Too thirsty to eat or to sleep, she roasted a single piece of mutton for the dogs and then sat beside the fire, waiting for dawn.
The next morning, the sheep were easier to keep moving at a fast walk than the previous day, because they were too thirsty to eat and made no attempt to graze. Later that morning, she saw foliage that indicated water during some seasons, but she made no attempt to investigate it, harboring her strength and that of her horses.
Nothing but the dry, rolling hills covered with seared foliage stretched ahead and Alexandra wondered if the animals could last through another night without water. Her own thirst was an unrelenting torment, her mouth parched and her lips cracked. But her determination provided reserves of energy, while the animals would end their torture by giving up and lying down to die.
When the heat reached its full, torrid intensity during the afternoon, the sheep slowed. The older and weaker ones gradually drifted to the rear of the flock, and Alexandra had to crack her whip every few minutes to keep them walking. The dogs were also becoming exhausted, their tongues hanging out as they panted breathlessly. The horses were in the same condition as they plodded with slow, dragging steps.
Alexandra knew that she might lose all of the sheep if she wasted her energy in struggling blindly to save each of them, but she was reluctant to give up a single one. Cracking her whip over those that straggled, she drove them back into the flock. Every time an old ewe or wether tottered feebly out of the column ahead of her, she shouted hoarsely to one of the dogs and motioned it to turn the sheep back.
Concentrating on the flock, she looked ahead less often. When she did and saw a smudge of a different color in the distance, she suppressed her exuberant surge of hope, fearing the crushing backlash of disappointment if she was mistaken. Fighting the urge to gaze ahead, she watched the sheep for what seemed an eternity, cracking her whip and keeping them together. Then she looked up again, seeing a broad band of shimmering emerald foliage that stretched from the eastern to the western horizon.
She was unable to rejoice, because the last miles were a struggle to keep the sheep moving, dozens of them faltering in the burning heat. Many of them dropped in their tracks, then lurched weakly back to their feet when Alexandra cracked her whip over them. The weary dogs moved listlessly back and forth as she stormed at them in her cracked, husky voice, sending them to turn back sheep that reeled out of the flock ahead.
Going over the last low rise before the creek, the sheep smelled the water, which brought another crisis. A ripple of movement passed through the flock, those that could breaking into a trot or run. Weaker ones stumbled and fell in the crush, in immediate danger of being trampled. Alexandra called to the dogs and sent them to the front of the flock as she rode up through it, cracking her whip to clear a path.
The sheep spread apart as they dodged the dogs in front of them and the loud cracking of the whip. The flock disintegrated into a disorganized mass a hundred feet wide, with a ragged group of sheep running and trotting across the valley toward the creek. The weaker, slower ones fell far behind, some still tottering down the last rise.
Urging her horses into a canter, Alexandra rode ahead of the sheep. The creek was wide and shallow, lined with trees that were flanked by acres of lush spinifex and mulga. Splashing into the water, the horses slid to a stop and dipped their muzzles, drinking frantically.
Alexandra tugged on the reins, trying to get the horses out of the water before they drank too much. Finally lashing them to make them stop drinking, she rode back out of the water and tethered the pack horse to a tree. By then, the first of the sheep had reached the creek. She rode back into it, cracking her whip to drive the sheep to the other side before they could drink too much.
The sheep gulped down water, dodging the whip and floundering across the creek. On the other side, the edge taken from their thirst, they began greedily cropping the grass and mulga. Riding up and down the creek, Alexandra drove more sheep across as they reached it. The dogs lapped up water, helping her chase the sheep to the other side.
With her lips and mouth parched, the cool, fresh water splashing as high as her saddle was an excruciating torture. But she denied herself, knowing the sheep would be violently ill and could die if they were bloated from the water. If she paused to drink, a sheep might drink too much, and she was determined to save every one of them.
After a while only those having difficulty reaching the creek were left. Taking the dogs with her, Alexandra rode back to them. Some stumbled and fell every few, feeble steps, while others dragged their hindquarters, only the scent of the water keeping them from giving up. The loud, cracking whip and the dogs frightened them into making a final effort, and Alexandra drove them slowly toward the creek.
The water revived them, and the last of the sheep crossed the creek ahead of Alexandra and the dogs. She followed them, motioning the dogs around the flock and moving it farther from the creek. Then, leaving the dogs with the sheep, she tethered her horse, and took off her dusty coat and hat, dropping them on the grassy bank. She waded into the creek and sat down, the water soaking through her clothes up to her chest as she dipped up handfuls and drank. She splashed it on her face, then held her breath and lay back, letting the deliciously cool water cover her.
Four days later, when she detected a faint odor of wood smoke in the breeze blowing down the creek, Alexandra turned her horse and rode to one side of the flock. Away from the dust and smell of the sheep, the aroma of wood smoke was distinct.
She gazed a few hundred yards up the creek, at a curve in the stream. A tall hill rose well above the surrounding terrain and just below its crest was a sheltered plateau where a large hut stood, a wisp of smoke rising from the smoldering campfire. It was the home paddock, and Alexandra was suddenly jubilant, a sense of joyous anticipation gripping her.
The intensity of her feelings surprised her, and she realized that she was looking forward to David's pleasure upon seeing the sheep. More than that, she eagerly awaited his smile when he saw her. Although she had not been lonely, she had missed him.
A short time later, the home paddock came into full view. The garden, some five acres surrounded by a rail fence, was on the near side of the hill, with a water wheel in the creek to irrigate it during dry periods. On the other side of the hill was a permanent fold, somewhat larger than those in the other paddocks. made of thick timbers and brush.
The flock grazed south of the hill, and on a rise overlooking the sheep, David leaped onto his horse and rode toward her. As his horse raced across the rolling terrain, he disappeared and then came into view again. When he drew closer, his tanned, handsome features were wreathed in a glowing, boyish grin of delight, and he looked only at her, not even noticing the sheep as he passed them. Then he r
eined in beside her, his horse panting heavily from the run.
For a long moment, neither of them said anything, a tingling, magnetic silence between them. Her discomfort when near him was gone, replaced by a completely opposite reaction. His fresh, male scent was pleasant, and the thought of his muscular arms holding her gave her a warm, melting feeling. His blue eyes gleamed with radiant joy, reflecting his intense love for her. Newly conscious of her own feelings for him, Alexandra's answering smile rose from the very depths of her being. In their mutual elation at being together after days of separation in the immense wilderness, words were pitifully inadequate, and at the same time, unnecessary.
Finally, he took off his hat and pushed his hair back, sighing happily. ''I can see that you're all right, Alexandra."
"Yes, are you?"
"I am now, but I was becoming more and more worried. If another day or two had passed, I would have left the sheep to do what they would and come searching for you." Turning to look for the first time at the sheep she was driving, he gazed in astonishment. "Good Lord, Alexandra! There are well over two thousand sheep here!"
"I'm sure I failed to find quite a few. And unfortunately, some died of thirst before I could collect them."
"You still did far, far better than many stockmen would have. The total loss to the flock is no more than a few hundred, which is a miracle. Considering the difficulty I had, I can only imagine the trouble you experienced in gathering these sheep and driving them here."
"Difficulty?" Alexandra echoed in pretended surprise. "Trouble? No, I merely collected them and drove them north to the creek, then here. Nothing could have been simpler or easier, David."
He fell silent in perplexity, and with more than a hint of skepticism. Unable to contain her amusement, Alexandra laughed, then he laughed merrily with her. They began driving the sheep toward the others as Alexandra related what had actually happened during the past few days.
When all of the sheep were together, David left the dogs to watch them and rode to the hill with Alexandra, pointing out where he intended to have the complex of station buildings. They stopped at the garden, which he had planted with cabbage, cucumbers, potatoes, onions, and other vegetables. Weeds had sprung up, the soil richly fertile and damp from irrigation by the water wheel at the creek, but the crops had flourished.
Outback Station Page 25
