A Ring For Angelina

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A Ring For Angelina Page 4

by Lindsay Johannsen

and flying-fox across the intervening gap.

  As a result of this and previous events Sergio invited Johnny Doss to be his partner. Johnny certainly appreciated the gesture, but the general hopelessness of his situation in respect of the fair Angelina and the realisation that his lookout hill was now more than ten kilometres away had him feeling increasingly despondent.

  That night, after a bottle or two of fairly sturdy vino, Johnny could hold his tongue no more. Suddenly he found himself pouring out his troubles to Sergio.

  Sergio listened in silence to Johnny's tale of heartache and longing and, when Johnny stood up and walked off into the dark, he felt unable to offer any comment. By the time Johnny returned, however – pain all cried-out and ready to crawl into the sanctuary of his swag – Sergio had much to say. “Come and sit over here, Johnny,” he said quietly. “I want to tell you one or two things about Sergio Domenici.

  Johnny settled himself on his four-gallon tin and for a while they both stared at the fire in silence.

  “Nineteen thirty-four we came out from Italy,” Sergio began eventually, “Mum and Dad and six of us kids - three boys and three girls. I was the oldest. I was nineteen. Melbourne we went to.

  “I tried my hand at a few different jobs, doing this and doing that. Course in those days you took any work you could get. But I didn’t like the city, Johnny, and I started looking for jobs out in the country. Coupla years later I'm workin' for an old feller called Jackson on a farm near Bendigo – goin' good too; it was a good job.

  “One day about six months later I’m out ploughing on his old tractor. She’s got a crook radiator, see – the old tractor. Leakin’ leakin’ leakin’. Every now and then I have to stop and fill it up from a four-gallon tin.

  “This day I slips and spills some water down the front. When I look down I see this lump of gold – with the dirt washed off from the water I spilled. It’s a good sized piece, too. Next morning I says to Mister Jackson, ‘Hey boss. What if a man finds some gold while he’s ploughing out there in the paddock?’

  ‘“No gold on this farm,’ says Jackson. ‘You can keep everything you find.’

  “Next time I’m in town I takes my gold to the bank. They give me cash for it – more cash than I ever seen before. But I already know what I’m going to do.

  “I go to the jewelers, see, to buy a ring. Jackson’s daughter Mary and me... Well, we’ve been talking. We want to get married. But she says we have to do it all properly. She wants to get engaged first, with a ring and everything.

  “So now I’ve got a ring, and I go up to the house to see Mister Jackson. Well, he just goes crazy! He rushes inside to the kitchen and after a couple of seconds Mary’s mother gives this terrible scream. He’s shouting and Mary’s mother is screeching and Mary is crying – it’s a terrible racket.

  “Then Jackson stops shouting and comes back out. ‘Hey! Where did you get the money for a ring like that?’ he demands. ‘From a lump of gold I found in the paddock,’ I says.

  “‘Why, you dirty thievin’ mongrel dago rat!’ he yells. ‘I’ll give you ten minutes to pack your things and clear out before I put a bullet in your stinkin’ hide.’

  “Then he goes back to the kitchen. His wife is still there but Mary has gone. When I get to the quarters she’s waiting outside. Before she can say anything old Jackson turns up. He’s got his rifle and he’s just insane with rage.

  ‘“Get back to the house!’ he yells. Mary is so frightened she’s nearly fainting, but she looks at him and says real quiet, ‘I’m going with Sergio, Dad.’

  Jackson works the bolt and points the gun at me. ‘If you don’t get back in the house Sergio won’t be going anywhere.’ he says.

  “Mary starts crying again and runs away. Jackson keeps the rifle pointed at me and says – real cold like, ‘You got another five minutes.’ Then he goes.

  “I stuff my clothes in my bag and clear out down the track. ‘I’ll be coming back, Mister Jackson,’ I keep saying to myself as I walk along. ‘And I’ll be coming back for Mary.’

  “In Bendigo I go around to a friend’s place. He says I should keep going because old Jackson might tell the police I stole the gold. But I don’t reckon it is the gold. I think he’s just using the gold as an excuse, see – to go crazy about some eye-tie wanting to marry his daughter. But I keep going anyway, back to Mum and Dad’s place in Melbourne.

  “Well, they got sick of me pretty quick. I was like a wild bull with a sore head and no breakfast. I just locked myself in my bedroom and wouldn’t talk to anyone. A couple of days later Dad hears something on the wireless about a girl on a farm near Bendigo.

  “She has a big row with her father and runs away. Next day they find her drowned in the dam.

  “Now my Dad was always pretty good at working things out, see, and he comes straight up to my room. ‘Pack your stuff,’ he says. ‘You’re going away.’ He knows that if I heard about it I’d go straight back to Jackson's farm and kill him.

  “That night we’re on the train to Adelaide. He won’t let me out of the compartment and he won't tell me anything. A cousin of Dad’s meets us at the station and takes us to an empty house. The people are away somewhere. I’m not allowed out. One of them is with me all the time.

  “Two days later Dad and I are on the train to Alice Springs. Two days after that I’m at a mica mine in the Harts Ranges – working for Gino Spinelli. Dad says I’ve got to stay there until I hear from him. It’s a matter of family honour, he says. He won’t tell me any more than that.

  “But my Dad never lied to me, see. It was family honour. He knew that if I found out what had happened I’d have gone back and killed that dirty mongrel like a mangy dog.

  “At first I was impossible to get along with but eventually I woke up to myself and started thinking straight. I was wrong about the first part but I didn’t know that at the time. So what could this “family honour” business be? I was sure it was nothing to do with me and Mary Jackson because he knew nothing about it. I mean, how could he?

  The second thing I worked out was that being here in the bush working at Gino Spinelli’s mica mine was just about the best job in the world. Course I was still planning to go back and have a few words with Jackson – like just before Mary and me cleared out together. I just had to wait until I heard from Dad, see. And I knew Mary would be waiting, no matter how long it all took.

  “About fifteen months later Dad rolls up with Gino’s brother in the old Chev’ truck. It’s a bit of a surprise but it’s good to see him again. Course I reckon he must be going to tell me how this “family honour” stuff has all been settled. I’ve saved up a fair bit of money by then, too, so straight away I decide to go back to Victoria with him – you know, to get Mary.

  “After dinner that night he and I sit outside and he explains about all the things that have happened. First he tells me how two weeks back old Jackson’s tractor rolled on him and killed him. I was pretty shocked, but not as shocked as I was when he told me about poor Mary. I just wanted to crawl down a rabbit hole and die. Actually, I came pretty close. I ran off into the dark cryin’ like a baby and kept going till I dropped. I don’t know how far it was; it must have been miles.

  “Two days it look them to find me – the copper from the Harts Range Police Station and his tracker. It was the middle of January, too. I wouldn’t have lasted much longer but that's what I wanted; I just wanted to die.

  “They took me back to the iron hut and Mama and Gino looked after me. I don’t know why, though. I was no good to anyone for months.

  “And this is where I stayed. Nothing worked out for me and Mary, Johnny, but I have to admit I’m pretty content – you know, all things considered. See, in the end, mate, you can only come to terms with life. There’s nothing you can do about it. But I never want to see a farmhouse and tractor again, Johnny. Not for as long as I live.”

  He fell silent for a time, then stood up and put a couple more sticks on the fire. “I reckon I'll have another mug of tea
before I go to bed,” he added quietly. He filled a billy with water from the drum and set it on the coals, then went to his stretcher, took a tin of tobacco from his bag and put it in his pocket.

  “And I thought I had troubles,” Johnny muttered when he came back. “It’s been a bed of roses compared to what you’ve been through.”

  “I’ll tell you something else,” Sergio said as he sat down. “Gino Spinelli is a man of his word. Whatever he says is the way things go, even if he doesn’t like it.”

  Then suddenly he changed the subject. “Hey, Johnny. What’ll we do for Christmas?”

  “Christmas?” said Johnny. I hadn’t even thought about Christmas. All I’ve been thinking about is my woes. Well – that, and how I can ever save enough money to meet Gino’s terms.”

  “But Johnny, what about Alina? You’ll have to give her something for Christmas.”

  “Hell, Sergio. You’re right. And what a bloody fool I am. Now it’s too late to do anything but try and find her a few wildflowers.”

  “And coming from you I’m sure she’ll be enchanted. But, Johnny. Why not give her this.” He reached into his pocket and passed over the tobacco tin.

  “Tobacco?!!” said Johnny, suddenly angry. “She doesn’t bloody smoke, Sergio. “And it’s not even bloody FULL!”

  He turned the lid and opened it as if to confirm Sergio’s insanity. And lying

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