Heart of the Outback

by Lynne Wilding

“Let’s go to the hotel and have something to eat,” Mary suggested. “You haven’t had a decent meal for days.”

  CJ allowed himself to be convinced that was the right thing to do. Just as they were leaving a faint moan from the bed stopped them in their tracks.

  “CJ, that you?” came weakly from the bed.

  For a big man CJ swung around fast and returned to Mickey’s side. He gripped the older man’s hand firmly. “Mickey, old mate. You’ve finally woken up. I thought you were trying for the Rip van Winkle record. How do you feel?”

  Mickey opened one eye for a second or two and squinted against the light. He saw Mary standing beside CJ and grinned weakly. “Can’t tell you, mate, there’s a lady present.”

  “That’s okay. I’ve probably heard more colourful language in the bar anyway.”

  “Yeah, right. I feel like shit.” Mickey’s eyes closed and he drifted off again.

  They tiptoed from the room and CJ heaved a relieved sigh. “He’s going to be all right.” Knowing that made him suddenly aware that his stomach was growling ominously. “Now I could do justice to a good feed. Come on,” and he grabbed Mary by the forearm and ushered her out into the late afternoon sunshine.

  The first time CJ went down the mine after the cave-in a chill ran from the top of his neck to the end of his spine. The silence was eerie and he could have sworn there were ghostly shadows playing at the edge of the light waiting to claim him too. He knew such thoughts were fanciful nonsense but he had them anyway as he cautiously picked his way along the eighteen metre drive using a powerful torch combined with the light from his miner’s hat. The last nine metres or so, where Mickey had been working before the cave-in, was full of debris. He grunted with disgust as the torch light ran over the amount of sand and claystone, estimating that almost half a ton had collapsed into the drive. It would take more than a day’s work to clear it. But before he could do anything he had to make the drive’s roof safe. Probably have to shore up a rough ceiling to protect them from more trouble too.

  He shone the torch along the wall towards the gaping hole. Something caught the light. Quartz? Agate? Maybe. He checked all around the hole to make sure there was no active crumbling and then he scrambled to the top of the claystone heap to investigate the glint. Gently brushing the dried, sandy soil aside he found a horizontal trace of potch. Something in the rock sparkled; tiny mosaics of colour winked at him.

  Shock caused him to almost topple off the heap. There, exposed by the cave-in lay a level of opal. It ran a good fifty centimetres upwards then disappeared into solid claystone. Contrary to normal the vein ran vertically, not horizontally. With a patience that belied his excitement, his trembling hand exposed a small part of the vein. The colours were magnificent.

  He dislodged a piece, held it up to the torch light, then licked the rough stone and held it to the light again. Prisms of colour sparkled at him. A fire opal, one of the most prized types of opal and, from the look of it, the vein was huge. Rich.

  “Yippee. You little beauty!” His voice echoed hollowly along the shaft.

  CJ scampered down the pile of rubble and did a stomping dance of joy in the narrow drive, scraping his arms and shoulders against the solid walls. You lucky, lucky bastard. Fascinated, his torch light danced on the exposed vein of opal again. You’ve done it. Well, actually, Mickey had done it … and it had almost cost him his life. He did a rough calculation of what the discovery could be worth. Forty, maybe seventy-five to eighty thousand dollars. He and Mickey — who’d never owned much more than the clothes he stood up in — were going to be rich. Filthy, bloody rich.

  Work, man. Get to work. Think. First he had to shovel the debris out of the way so he could get a ladder up to the vein. Then he’d shore it up and by God, a grain of claystone wouldn’t move unless he gave it permission. But he wouldn’t tell Mickey until his condition had improved. The fewer people who knew the better. Their valuable find wasn’t going to be ratted by some enterprising lowlife around the diggings.

  He ran back to the shaft and found a shovel, his thoughts going this way and that in a flurry of activity. He could fill up one of the useless drives they’d previously explored — even though the practice was illegal — instead of taking the mullock up to the top. That would save time and energy. Now, he grinned hugely into the near blackness of the drive, CJ Ambrose’s dream had come true. He was on his way.

  CJ and Mary were taking a walk after seeing Mickey and then enjoying a meal at the one cafe in town. On impulse CJ turned to her and said, “Come on, I want to take you out to the mine.”

  “Now?” Mary knew it was an hour’s drive there and back. In truth, she’d rather they spend the time here, together, rather than travelling along a bumpy dirt track into the hot, dry desert. But tonight she’d noted that he seemed wired tighter than a spring, as if he was bursting to tell her something but couldn’t. He kissed her full on the lips and she blushed because a couple across the street saw them. “CJ …” she whispered in that gentle, warning way of hers.

  “Do come, Mary. It’s important,” he pleaded, running his fingers through her hair.

  When he asked so nicely how could she say no? Besides, she had something to tell him too. “All right, but I can’t be too late. I’m rostered on for breakfast duty tomorrow.”

  “You’re so conscientious,” he said with a chiding laugh. “What would the Farbers do if you just didn’t turn up? They’d survive.”

  “I couldn’t do that. They’re my employers. I have a duty to them.”

  He shook his head with amusement as they made their way to the VW. Mary was a funny little thing. She had firm ideas on correct behaviour and what was right and wrong — no doubt drummed into her by the nuns at the mission school. Yet when he held her in his arms, she melted like liquid fire. Just thinking of her responses made him go hard with wanting. When they were at the dugout …

  By the time they reached the M45 mine, darkness had fallen like a blanketing fog over the desert landscape. Mary had only been to the mine site a couple of times, once to celebrate Mickey’s thirty-eighth birthday. Illuminated by the van’s headlights, the starkness of the countryside pockmarked with its mullock dumps from the various opal mines, the lack of colour and the dryness didn’t appeal to her at all. Where she’d been brought up, there had been trees and shrubs and the odd patch of grass. The topography of the opal fields was like no other place on earth that she had seen or read about.

  CJ jerked the van to a halt with a squeal of brakes and jumped out with his torch already in hand. It was a moonless night and with the torchlight to guide him he strode over to the petrol generator and fired it up. Immediately two beams of light lit up the area, outlining the make-do timbers and galvanised iron wall of the dugout, and the circular hole which was the entrance to the M45 mine.

  “Come on, out you get,” CJ commanded as he opened the van door and without waiting for her he moved in the direction of the mine shaft. “You’re not worried about dark narrow places, are you? I mean, you’re not claustrophobic?”

  “I don’t know,” Mary shrugged her shoulders. The hole yawned gloomy and uninviting with just the top of the ladder visible. “Why do you want me to go down there, CJ?”

  “I’ve something to show you,” he said, barely able to contain his excitement. He had worked the level for two days, with very little sleep in-between, exposing the vein and marvelling at the extent of the find. Mickey still didn’t know that he was going to be a rich man. Disappointingly, his recovery was slower than expected, but CJ had an idea that it was because Sister Damien was young, attractive and unattached. The skull fracture had been severe and Mickey had to spend several more days resting up, according to the sister. CJ champed at the bit to tell him the news and tomorrow he intended to take what he’d chipped out to show his partner. That would buck Mickey up and, he had no doubt, speed his recovery.

  Mary peered into the hole. “It looks pretty dark down there. I don’t think …”

  CJ fli
cked a switch on a board and a series of lights lit up the shaft. “I bought these from the general store yesterday. They work off a twelve volt battery. It’s as good as daylight down there now.”

  He gave her a hug and a brief kiss on the cheek, then he proceeded to climb down the ladder until he’d reached the main horizontal drive. With some reluctance Mary descended, trying not to think of Mickey and the cave-in, or whether spiders or other nocturnal nasties inhabited the place. She was relieved when CJ took her hand and half dragged her along behind him. Finally they reached the drive that contained the opal vein. It too was lit by the light.

  “There. See.”

  Mary looked up and her eyes widened. Opal, illuminated by the strong light, stood out clearly. The colours were wonderful. Milky-white, red, blue, yellow and green sparkled inside a translucent coating. Through Mickey and CJ and overhearing conversations at the bar, she had picked up quite a bit of information on opals. She knew she was staring at a considerable find.

  “Oh, it’s so beautiful, CJ. I can’t believe it.”

  “I wanted you to see it before I started chipping the stones out. Tomorrow I’ll take some to show Mickey. Boy, is he in for a surprise.”

  Exuberantly, she threw her arms around him and kissed him full on the lips. “Congratulations, CJ,” she whispered. “Now you can do the things you’ve planned to do, those things you told me about.”

  “Yeah.” CJ stilled in her arms. Maybe he’d talked too much to her about his future plans for a station and breeding cattle, and other things too. But she’d been so damned easy to talk to and interested, making him want to pour out his dreams to her. Suddenly a mental image of Brenda came to him, followed by a rare sense of guilt. Guilt for deceiving both of the women in his life. Brenda, to whom he’d promised marriage, and Mary, to whom he’d made no promises though he knew she had expectations.

  With an effort he shrugged the feeling off, as well as the anxiety caused by a decision he’d soon have to make. “Let’s go up top and celebrate. I’ve a bottle of French champagne in the fridge, the best Gus can get.”

  “I’ve never tasted champagne,” Mary admitted as she watched the ritual of CJ popping the cork. She giggled with amusement as it fizzed over the top of his hand and onto the floor to be quickly absorbed by the hard-packed earth.

  “There’ll be lots more of this,” he promised as he clinked their glasses together. He studied Mary as she drank her champagne and smiled at her simple enjoyment of it. There were no pretensions, no airs and graces about her, but then she was very young. She hadn’t had time or enough exposure to life in general to have picked up any sophistication. Besides, there was precious little in a place like Coober Pedy. How would she fit into the life he planned to have one day? Could he see her greeting wealthy businessmen and society folk? Would she be able to cope with the demands of organising a dinner party for twenty? Would she want to? Christ, he didn’t know the answer for sure but in his heart he doubted it. But … she was lovely. Watching the shadows at play on her face and hair, he saw the beginnings of a beauty that was as much physical as it was spiritual. Yes! Like the precious opal he’d sought and found, Mary’s beauty was internal and it enhanced her visual attractiveness tenfold.

  He reached for her and led her to the bottom bunk on which he’d thoughtfully put clean sheets that day.

  “So, this is the real reason you brought me out here, to have your wicked way with me,” she teased.

  He kissed her with a passion that was suddenly fierce. “Too right …”

  In the aftermath of their lovemaking CJ lay on his back with Mary pressed into his side cuddling him.

  “CJ?”

  “Mmmm,” came his sleepy response. His sexual appetite sated, tiredness from a hard day’s work and a hard hour’s loving was taking its toll.

  “I’ve something to tell you, and you’ve got to promise not to be angry.”

  “Why,” he said with a yawn, “would I be angry?”

  “I’m not sure.” She hoped his delight would equal hers. “You might be.”

  “Tell me and we’ll see.”

  “Well, I’m late.” She held her breath and waited but the response she expected didn’t come.

  “Late for what?”

  “You know,” she elbowed him gently in the ribs to bring him to a higher state of wakefulness. “My monthlies. I’m two weeks overdue.”

  His body stiffened. “What!” He sat up and dragged her up to face him. “What do you mean? You haven’t had your period? But … you’re on the pill. You’ve been taking it, haven’t you?” In his growing anger he gave her a little shake.

  “Yes, yes. I don’t know what’s wrong. I followed the instructions on the leaflet but,” her huge brown eyes pleaded for understanding, “I think I’m pregnant.” She had other symptoms too. Like morning sickness and sore breasts and for some strange reason she had a craving for strawberries which were unattainable this far north of Adelaide.

  His blue eyes hardened. “You might just be late. Have you seen a doctor?”

  “Not yet. The regular doctor’s visit isn’t until next week. I wanted to tell you first. I don’t want other people to know. It’s a small town and you know how everyone gossips.”

  “Yeah, well, it’ll be a bit hard to hide that sort of thing after a couple of months, won’t it?”

  He couldn’t look at her. At the same time he tried to hold his anger and disappointment down, with difficulty. “Christ Almighty, this is what I didn’t want to happen. Damn, damn, damn.” He got up and, still naked, stomped around the dugout.

  This development complicated matters more than he cared to think about. It soured everything. Discovering the opals, knowing that he was going to be rich. His dream. Damn her stupidity, and her innocence. He hadn’t done anything wrong, she had.

  He saw her crying softly, quietly, and grabbing his trousers he got dressed and sat on the bunk next to her. “Don’t.” He took her hand. “Look, Mary, the first thing is to have it confirmed whether or not you’re pregnant. We’ll take matters from there. There are options, you know.” Yeah. Someone must know some place where it could be gotten rid of. That would be best for both of them. Hardening his heart to the appeal in her eyes he made the decision he’d hoped to put off for a while. For too many years he’d dreamt the dream and the power of it was too strong for him to be turned from it. Mary wasn’t right for him, kid or no kid. Brenda deWitt fitted into his future needs more than Mary could ever hope to. And, he wasn’t going to marry her to give the baby a name and a home. No, sir! With bullheaded determination he pushed the guilt from his mind. Mary was young, she’d get over it.

  “Come on, get dressed, love. I’ll drive you back to Coober.”

  Mary did so in a state of shock. He hadn’t said what she’d desperately hoped he would. That he was overjoyed, that they’d get married straightaway. She could feel him retreating from her, sense the hardness in him coming to the surface. Dear God, what was she going to do? She couldn’t make him marry her. CJ was the type of man who liked to run things, to call the shots and if he didn’t ask her …

  Without conscious thought she dressed and combed her hair and with the jerky movements of a sleepwalker followed him out to the van.

  CJ was up the ladder carefully chipping away at the opal bearing level — as he had been for the past week — when he heard the repeated bipping of a car horn as it approached the mine. By the time the car halted he was on the last rung of the ladder staring curiously at his visitor.

  Gus Farber. Why on earth would he be visiting CJ?

  “Hi, Gus. Didn’t know you were interested in opal mines,” he welcomed him with a grin. “Want a beer?”

  “I’m not, and there’s no time for a beer, CJ. I,” the German stumbled over his words. “There’s trouble. Mary asked me to come and tell you about Mickey.”

  CJ wiped his dirty hands on a rag he kept in his back pocket. “I saw him last night. Sister Damien said she’d discharge him tomorrow. What
’s wrong?”

  Gus shuffled from one foot to the other and thrust his huge hands into his trouser pockets. “He had a fall this morning, in the shower, so the sister said. Cracked his skull open and,” he glanced across at CJ and saw that he had his full attention, “it doesn’t look good, mate. The sister thinks he’s had a … cerebral haemorrhage. Gone into a coma again. The Flying Doctor Service is coming but she thinks he’s not gonna come out of this one.”

  “Christ Almighty!” The breath whooshed out of a shocked CJ. He tried to grasp what Gus was telling him. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Sister Damien says to come quick. Mickey’s breathing’s all funny. She don’t reckon he’ll last till the FDS gets here.”

  CJ turned away from Gus and slowly exhaled. A chill ran all the way through him. Mickey. No. Fighting to control his emotions he balled his hands into tight fists. He’d experienced this sense of helpless frustration before. When his grandfather had died, and then his mother. For God’s sake get a grip, he ordered himself. But Mickey Edgars was the closest thing he’d had to a real mate in years. He blinked rapidly to push back a suspicious moistness. Tough men don’t cry, he remembered his dad telling him at his mother’s and grandfather’s funeral.

  Groaning, CJ grabbed the blue checked shirt he’d hung over the mine’s winch, he pulled it on in a jerky movement. “Let’s go then.”

  Mickey’s death hit CJ harder than he would have thought possible. He was utterly distraught. To him it was inconceivable that the little man with the perky ways, energy, and love of life was now forever quiet and still.

  The day of the funeral CJ got roaring, fighting, mad drunk — his way of dealing with the pain — until Gus had to restrain him by locking him in one of his storerooms until he sobered up. In the light of day and with a massive hangover he seemed to recover his self-control and went back to the M45 mine to work the grief out of his system.

  Mary watched as he retreated into himself, and was at a loss to know what to do to help him. He had distanced himself from her since she had confirmed her pregnancy as if, by pretending it didn’t exist, the problem would go away. She knew they had to talk but CJ wasn’t in a talking mood. He had become consumed by an all encompassing passion to gouge the precious opal from its earthly hiding place, day in day out.