Outback Born

by K'Anne Meinel

  “Oh, one day ain’t gonna hurt none. We need some excitement.”

  “We could share the woman. There weren’t none on that last station.”

  George Granger looked at the men disgustedly. He knew what kind of fun they meant. They would hunt the Aborigine down and kill him, if they could. Then, if he had a wife with him, they would rape her for the fun of it. He couldn’t see the family clearly, but Sam had. Usually, you could easily spot aboriginal children with their distinctive, blonde hair that eventually turned to black. “Just do your job,” he advised, wondering how he could get them to stop thinking about the man and his family. He didn’t hold with some people’s beliefs that Aborigine people weren’t human and didn’t own the land, but he knew better than to voice his opinions. He had a job to do. They’d collected the bags of wool, and it was his job to get them to Sydney where they would be loaded on ships and delivered to English mills that would turn the wool into cloth. He would only be paid when he delivered everything to the factor in Sydney. He couldn’t pay his men if he didn’t do that, and he didn’t want them to waste precious time hunting Aborigines. He knew many of the men who hired on for these long trips didn’t realize how long they would be gone. They didn’t understand the many months it would take to reach some of these more remote stations, and they didn’t realize they would be without lights and the comforts of the big city for so long. Some were depraved individuals, who disappeared into the Outback, using fake names and committing crimes in the city they were escaping from. Many were former convicts or the offspring of convicts, but he couldn’t be too choosy as he needed men to drive the many carts and wagons, handle the oxen and bullocks pulling them, and help get the bales of wool to market. Not all of them were of this ilk, but George couldn’t afford to be too choosy as he needed to get the work done and many were unwilling to go into the vast Outback, which frightened them.

  Over the next couple days, several of the men talked of nothing else but hunting the Aborigine and his family that they still occasionally saw on the hills. It was determined there were four in the family: two adults and two children. The children were shorter, although one of them was nearly the size of the adults. They couldn’t make out the sex of the children, but someone had confirmed one adult was a woman, and this led to speculation about whether they could separate the male from his female for their own enjoyment. They talked as though the Aborigines were not people, although they clearly were human in appearance and what they planned to do to the woman also spoke against this.

  “You don’t own me, Granger!” one man, Eli Sprecher, told him in a sneering voice.

  “I’m paying you to cart these bundles to market for me, not chase after women!”

  “We ain’t had a day off in months, George,” another tried to reason.

  “You’ll get your days off when we get this,” he pointed to the ungainly bundles piled high on the wagons, “to Sydney.”

  “Another day or two ain’t gonna matter.”

  The arguments went around and round at the fire nightly, and when they stopped for their noon, the men continued to speculate and use the Aborigines as a topic of conversation. George really began to see some of the true personalities come out of men he had thought were hard workers. Not all wanted to participate and chase after the Aborigine family, and he respected them a hell of a lot more than the ones who did. Fortunately, the ones who participated were a minority.

  That minority disappeared before breakfast the following day, so they could not continue their journey. Several of the missing men were needed to drive the large wagons and carts and handle the bullocks pulling them.

  “God dammit!” George swore when he realized he was short-handed. If the men didn’t return soon, they were going to have to tie the guard horses to the wagons and use the guards to drive the wagons and carts. He was tempted to just do that anyway but couldn’t abandon the men to the Outback. He knew without food, which they weren’t even thinking about right now, they would starve to death, and that was a horrible death for anyone. Knowing these types of men, he realized they wouldn’t make it back, and he knew his reputation as a carter would be destroyed.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The family couldn’t understand Omeo’s decision to parallel the odd caravan, and they would never question it. Each had seen the strange animals and understood they weren’t some weird aberration but merely animals they weren’t familiar with. Horses were not common to their area of the Outback and neither were the white men controlling them. The smells that floated on the air were foreign to the Aborigines and unpleasant, but they wouldn’t disobey him, and when he had returned that night, he seemed excited, agitated, and thoughtful. He didn’t discuss his thoughts with them. It wasn’t their place.

  Omeo was trying to figure out what he had done wrong and how he could obtain the coveted metals. He had seen one of those white man’s stone axes leaning against some of the wood they were cutting for their fire. It had just been left there in the open for anyone to touch, and he wondered at something so valuable being left unguarded like that. Apparently, the white men didn’t value it as much as he, and he hoped he could find something to exchange for it.

  He had watched the white men avidly in the days following his unsuccessful visit. He allowed them to see him and his family on the hillside but stayed well away from them, so they were no threat. That morning, he had gotten up early in order to hunt for a kangaroo. He was hoping to find a way to convey that he would trade the meat for some of the coveted metals. He hoped they would see that he meant no harm and that the kangaroo he was now bringing them would express that he wished to trade and bargain. He didn’t see the white men who had left early in the morning darkness from their overly large fire, but they saw him and hid. When Omeo finally became aware of the smell of the white men over the smell of the blood of the kangaroo, it was too late. He found himself hit with the butt of a musket and went down without a fight.

  “You killed him, Sam!”

  “I don’t care. Let’s find his woman and have some fun.”

  “What if she’s ugly?”

  “Who cares? A cat’s a cat in the dark, right?” another quipped crudely.

  “I say who finds ‘er first, gets to say who gets ‘er,” another challenged, speeding up to be the one to find the coveted woman, who was now essentially unprotected.

  “We are gonna share,” Sam threatened, hurrying after the others.

  “I say, whoever catches her, gets to say,” another taunted, and they all hurried along, unaware they were making a lot of noise in the still morning air. It wasn’t loud to the white men, who still snored around their fire, but the animals and the Aborigines, who were in tune with nature, heard them.

  Miro, Alinta’s brother, was dozing in the early morning. Charged with guarding their family, he was used to the sounds of the night, but in his slumber, he barely heard the white men, who had caught the slight smell of their campfire. He was knocked out before he was able to come completely awake, the butt of the musket catching him unawares along the side of his head. Only his thick hair and the darkness prevented them from bashing in his skull. Still, it would be a long time before he awoke from his unnatural slumber.

  Alinta woke, hearing the white men, and she tried to scream as she saw the men looming over the small fire burning in the hollow where they chose to camp. She kicked at her mother to wake her as she quickly got up to run. The men gleefully ran after her and several stopped the older one from leaving, assuming it must be her dam. Their eyes left her with no questions as to their intentions. Sam and the others of his ilk took turns, taking their time raping the older woman as the other two, Eli and Bradley, went after the younger one.

  Alinta dodged in and out of the spinifex, the tall grasses, and the trees. The men, delighted, whooped and followed, frightening her and causing her to become careless as she ran for all she was worth. It was a long time before they tired her young body with their cat and mouse games.

  “
I got her!” Bradley crowed, having leapt and tackled her. Alinta fought like a wild thing! It was unnatural for her to disobey a man, but these men were nothing like she was used to, and they frightened her. After several minutes of struggle, Eli produced some piggin’ strings, and they tied both her hands and her feet. The rope around her neck was unnecessary but she fought them all the way.

  “You don’t wanna take ‘er now?” Eli asked the younger man, envious of his capture but not in the least interested in raping the young woman. She didn’t appeal to him at all with her skinny body; he preferred meat on a woman’s bones…more cushion. This almost straight up form reminded him too much of a boy, and his normally randy cock shriveled at the thought of touching the young, aboriginal woman.

  “No, I’m gonna savor ‘er,” he said with a cheeky grin. Excited by the capture and her struggling against him, he had a raging hard-on from his exertions. He would have taken her then and there but didn’t want an audience. There was a tent stored in with the supplies, and he intended to use it when he got her back to camp. “Let’s see if the others have had their fill of the dam.” Throwing her easily over his shoulder, the men slowly made their way back towards the Aborigine camp, surprised to see the boy still laying on the ground where he had been guarding the others.

  Inala, Alinta’s dam, lay in a tight ball after having been violated many times by the men who had captured her. She hurt inside in ways she had never felt before. Never had her mate taken her over and over so brutally as these white men had.

  “We better go,” Bradley put in as they came up, slipping the woman off his shoulder. Eli helped to hold her between them as Bradley released her feet.

  “You gonna share ‘er?” Sam asked, eyeing the young woman and instantly getting hard again. It had been exciting to take the reluctant, older woman time and again in the space of a few short minutes. She had fought at first but eventually resigned herself to her fate, and that had made it less exciting. The fight was what he wanted, and he could see the young woman was still fighting her bonds as the two men held her effortlessly.

  “Nope, finders keepers, and I caught her,” Bradley answered, ready to take on the older man, who he didn’t like. This search for the Aborigines had been the older man’s idea, and Bradley had gone along for the excitement, giving up valuable hours of sleep that he needed.

  “I think you should share,” Sam said as he got up cautiously and eyed the younger man and the woman. He stared at her in a lust-filled haze, the bulge in his pants obvious.

  “Nope, she’s mine.” Bradley’s tone brooked no interference, and he eyed the man warily. He was ready for Sam when he lunged, a knife suddenly appearing in his hand. Bradley pushed the girl into Eli’s surprised arms as he slapped the knife aside and lunged at the older man to unbalance him, attempting to wrestle the knife away and tripping him in the process. He needn’t have worried. The man fell on his own knife and turned over with a groan, the knife protruding from his gut. “Oh, shit, Sam. Now, look at what you’ve done!”

  Sam looked down at the knife in his stomach and went to pull it.

  “Don’t!” Bradley tried staying the hand, but he was too late. Sam yanked the knife out and blood spurted. Holding his hand down on the wound, Bradley could only watch as the man quickly bled to death from his self-inflicted wound.

  The others stared down in horror. The altercation had taken place so quickly.

  “We better bury him,” Eli said, holding the struggling girl, who was looking about at the white men, eyes wide with fear as she attempted to get free. He calmly slapped her with the back of his hand to quiet her struggles.

  “We better get back to Granger before he goes on without us,” another pointed out. The sun was coming up, and he knew they were derelict in their duties to the man.

  “Shouldn’t we bury Sam?” another repeated Eli’s comment.

  “We ain’t got time. Go through his pockets and see if he has anything worthwhile. I claim his gear,” Eli stated.

  “I fought him,” Bradley said, suddenly rising from where he was kneeling by the corpse, realizing he better make his wishes known before the other men took everything, including the woman. “I get his gear. You can have what’s on ‘im,” he indicated the corpse and went to take the young woman away from Eli. “I’ll go on ahead and let Granger know we are on our way.”

  “What about ‘er?” one of the men indicated the older woman.

  “Bring ‘er along. We can use her on the way.”

  A couple rifled through Sam’s pockets for anything of value, finding only a few coins and a pocketknife but nothing else. By turning the corpse over, they hid the knife that had killed him from their own view. They left it and the body to the elements as they rose to take the older woman, forcing her to walk with them after tying her hands as she began to feebly struggle. They passed the still unconscious boy and ignored him, leaving him to whatever the fates had in store for him. They eventually passed by the older man as well. Omeo was lying there, trying but unable to rise as the ache in his head sorted itself. Inala and Alinta, prisoners of the white men, stared in horror at his supine form but were pulled roughly along.

  “What have you got there?” George asked gruffly, seeing the men coming into camp with the two women. Taking a second look, he realized one looked like a girl.

  “Prisoners. Spoils of war,” one of the men quipped, grinning.

  “Where’s Sam?”

  “He got killed,” they told him but didn’t tell him the fight was with Bradley. “His body’s out there.”

  George, anxious to get underway, already had the oxen and bullocks harnessed and the horses saddled. “Grab some grub, and let’s get going,” he ordered, disgusted with whatever had happened to allow these men to take possession of these women. He knew there was nothing he could do short of ordering them to release the two Aborigine women, but he didn’t want a mutiny on his hands, so he decided to ignore the situation. It was later, when some of the men fought over the right to have the older woman, that he regretted not insisting they leave the women where they had found them. They headed out, the dust kicked up by their wagons, carts, bullocks, oxen, and horses settling over the desert as they left this spot behind. All day long, they plodded along. On a good day they would make twenty miles, only ten miles on a bad day. Today, was a good day despite the delay in setting off.

  Word spread between the men that Bradley had killed Sam over the young girl, and no one challenged his right to keep her for himself, but they kept that from George for the time being. Bradley asked for the tent from supplies and got it set up. Before he took the girl into the tent to exert what he felt were his rights, he tried to feed her mutton and biscuit, which she refused. She fought him, knowing what he wanted but not understanding how it worked. She had seen her mother taken repeatedly by her father over the years, so the rapes of the men today were nothing. Now, she resigned herself to enduring what she expected was to become the norm.

  “You are mine now,” the man said, but Alinta didn’t understand his utterings. She had never heard this language before, and to her it was gibberish. The look in his eye though, that was universal. She had seen such looks at the gatherings. Her father and mother had both worked hard to keep the men away from her at these events, but she didn’t believe anyone could save her this time. She thought she could see what he wanted in his look, and when he grabbed her arm, she knew she wasn’t wrong.

  The thought of him touching her was repugnant. He smelled so unlike the men she had grown up with and expected to one day belong to. His sweat was sharp and foreign, and the white of his skin was different from anything she had ever known. She looked around and the leers on the faces of the other men told their tale. They knew what Bradley had in mind for her. There was no hope for it. Alinta resigned herself to whatever the fates had decided for her.

  With her lack of clothing, it wasn’t hard for him to simply unbutton his trousers and take her when his lust was high. He didn’t think of he
r enjoyment or her satisfaction, she was simply satisfying his lust. He didn’t think of the fact that she might be a virgin and unused to a man’s touch. He didn’t consider that she wasn’t aroused and there would be little, if any, lubrication, so it would be painful. He pumped into her time and time again, spitting on his cock and forcing his way inside as he assuaged his own needs and his own desires, not stopping until he was satisfied. He held onto her as she cried silently, panting at his exertions, and when she was done crying, he took her again and again. She was quite sore the next day. The blood had dried on her legs and it hurt to pee, but over the next couple weeks, she learned to quietly accept what he took without regard to her feelings…she learned it was useless to fight.

  Inala was concerned about her son and mate. She had seen them lying on the ground as these white men took the women back to their camp. As they took her over and again, she was resigned, but she worried about her daughter as she watched the young man, a strong one from what she could see, take her into the shelter he had erected. She knew what his intentions were as he held the woman proprietarily. She saw the blood on her daughter’s leg the next day and tried to explain about keeping herself clean, but Alinta did not want to listen. She didn’t want to eat, and she didn’t want to clean herself. Maybe if she died, she would be free. She became despondent.

  Inala watched as Alinta began to fade away in the coming weeks, and the man who owned her finally noticed as well. He held Alinta and forced a noxious liquid down her throat, only to have it come back up violently from her gut. After that, he offered her mutton and bread, which she would have normally refused, but he indicated the black bottle of liquid he would force down her throat again, and she reluctantly began to eat. After that, she knew she wouldn’t die as quickly as she wanted.

  At the next town, Bradley took Alinta to a startled blacksmith, who fastened a collar around her neck. He hammered the pin in and made chains for the pleased carter, who held them proprietarily while he also made cuffs for the girl’s ankles, chaining her legs so she couldn’t run far. One of the men who felt he owned the older woman envied the look, and he had a similar set made for his captive.