Outback Born

by K'Anne Meinel

  Mel assessed the man, and his heart went out to the woman, knowing she submitted only because of the chain around her neck and ankles. Mel bided his time playing cards until one by one, the vaqueros dropped out and then the Australians. Murmurs in the background indicated that George was still talking with the Senora by the fire. Mel grinned, knowing Carmen only used her full name like that to confuse men. In America she had been simply Carmen Pearson and didn’t use her mother’s full family name of Senora Mary Carmen Valenzuela Pearson. Mel understood and knew the men with Carmen understood, but men such as George Granger and others of his kind were impressed by English titles and would not understand.

  “Ah, that’s the last of my coin!” Bradley exclaimed, throwing down his cards as he lost once again. He’d played long enough that he’d lost all his own money plus the roll he had found in Sam’s gear. Several of the men who worked with him noticed he stayed in the game a long time, and they wondered why he had so much cash money on him.

  Mel restrained a smile as he raked in the winnings. He had learned how to play cards in New Orleans from masters. He’d let the Australian think he was winning many times, but he was simply a bad card player and was being strung along by a superior card player. “Tell you what, I’m inclined to keep playing. Would you consider playing some more?”

  “I hain’t got nuthin’ to play with,” the carter admitted ruefully, rubbing his chin and feeling the stubble that had built up since the previous river crossing when he had last taken the time to shave.

  “Don’t you?” Mel inquired, his glance following the chain towards the woman sitting nearby. Mel had watched as Bradley gave her a plate of food. There had been a brief pause when he had reached for a bottle in his shirt pocket, then the woman hastily ate. Mel wondered what was in the bottle.

  “I told you I ain’t rentin’ ‘er out,” Bradley said, sounding morose.

  “I’m not talking about rentin’,” Mel admitted. “How much would you say she’s worth?” Mel heard a slight gasp behind them when the children’s nanny heard the offer. Mel glanced back, but the woman was looking decidedly away. Mel could tell she didn’t approve. Mel also glanced at the children, who were playing with one of the young dogs that wasn’t occupied guarding sheep. Mel pretended no interest in whether Bradley wanted to continue playing or not.

  Bradley considered for a moment. He had been drinking a lot that evening, seemingly a necessity when playing cards. He named a price that sounded outrageous, and Mel grinned knowingly.

  “You wouldn’t get that in no brothel in the city,” Mel answered, having heard of the man’s plans. He shuffled the cards, being careful not to give away his expertise, although he did know some fancy shuffles. Mel also knew how to deal from the bottom of the deck and a few other tricks that he hadn’t had to enact to beat this man at poker. Mel made a move to put away the cards, then looked around. “Anyone else want to play?” he called. Several shook their heads. They had lost just enough, although a few of the vaqueros had won because they knew not to keep playing with the American for too long.

  “How much would you give me in credit for ‘er?” Bradley asked as Mel went to put away the cards.

  Mel named a sum that was less than half what Bradley had stated, and when he didn’t respond immediately, he made to get up, putting the large stack of bills he had won from the man in his shirt pocket.

  “Alright, I’ll play. I’ll win too,” Bradley bragged as Mel sat back down and handed the deck to him to shuffle and deal. Bradley tried to cheat, but he was so bad at it that Mel easily beat him at his game. Slowly and methodically over the next few hours, he lost every other hand. The winning hands were enough to keep him hopeful that his next hand would be a big win. He was losing a little more with each play until finally, he was out of money once again. “Well, that’s it,” he finally said, having lost to an inside straight. He shook his head. He thought the American had cheated but couldn’t figure out how, and his own attempts at cheating had been in vain. Still, he had won enough that he thought he could beat the American. He rose to leave the area.

  “Now, wait a minute. Aren’t you forgetting something?” Mel asked, rising too and feeling the numbness in his legs from sitting too long. He hoped it passed quickly. This could get ugly fast, and he had to be ready.

  “Forgetting what?” Bradley tried to hedge, but several of the carters were looking at him with disgust. Maybe it wasn’t for them to judge that he had fought with Sam and killed him, but to renege on a bet that they had all witnessed wasn’t good.

  “You borrowed against your woman there,” Mel pointed out.

  “I…didn’t…” he began belligerently, then seeing the looks on the men’s faces in the firelight as he looked away from Mel’s pointed gaze, he shrugged and reluctantly handed the chain over. He walked away, disgusted with himself as the woman looked at the chain and the new man holding it. This was unprecedented. Never had the white man given her to someone else. She had no comprehension of the cards they had been playing and was merely waiting until the man would demand her presence in the hated tent.

  Alinta hadn’t noticed the other white man, not daring to look at any other man since Bradley’s possessiveness caused fights. She hadn’t understood any of their verbal exchanges, but she understood that the new man holding her chain was her new owner, and she glanced at the man, sensing something no one else around the fire did. As her eyes traveled up the chain to the hands of the man now holding it loosely in his hands, she wondered if Bradley had given her away for the night or if he had grown tired of her.

  Mel rose and beckoned to the woman, being careful not to pull on the chain. The woman looked surprised. Normally, Bradley had grabbed her arm, pushed her in the direction he wanted her to go, or pulled on her chain. She got up hesitantly, and Mel beckoned again, slipping his pack of cards into his pocket as he gathered the coins and bills of various countries in the pile and put his winnings deep in another pocket.

  Alinta followed Mel as he headed for his ground-hitched horses and gear. Mel rummaged in the supplies and pulled out a blanket roll and a ground sheet, spreading them out next to the saddle. He rummaged some more as Alinta looked on, wondering at the many unfamiliar things. Mel made another bed next to the first. He pointed at the first bed and then to Alinta. Next, he pointed at the second bed and to himself. Alinta’s eyes opened wide. She understood the gestures and made an affirmative motion with her hand, but Mel didn’t see that. Mel pointed again to each of the beds and to each other, making himself clear, and finally, Alinta nodded, which seemed to please the new man. Mel made a grimace with his face, his teeth showing.

  Mel wasn’t certain how to ask if the woman needed to use the necessary, and he needed to check on the animals but didn’t know how to make that clear either. The men Mel had hired for the trip had done their duty for the night, switching off while some came in to eat, but he needed to take a turn and check on the dogs and feed them too.

  Mel thought the way to start was to get to know each other better. He had recognized the despair on the woman’s face, seeing a resignation that had hurt his tender heart at the woman’s situation. While talking over cards, Mel learned the men hadn’t given any regard to the young woman’s feelings when they took her from her family. Mel pointed to himself and said, “Mel Lawrence,” clearly and distinctly, making sure the woman was looking at him when he did so. The aboriginal woman looked puzzled, and Mel repeated the gesture and his name. Then Mel pointed to the woman, waiting patiently as she thought about what Mel was asking. Suddenly, a light came on in her eyes as she realized what this man wanted. She was excited, thinking Mel wanted to know her tribal affiliation, which in her mind was much more important than her personal name. Mel found the sounds too basic and guttural to pronounce when he finally heard the woman speak. Still, the woman’s voice was very attractive.

  Mel tried again, this time using his first name only. “Mel,” he said, tapping his chest and looking expectantly at the woman, who w
as dressed in only a man’s oversized shirt. He tapped her chest and waited patiently.

  Alinta waited, realizing she had said something wrong. She felt like she had done a lot wrong around these white people. Several times, Bradley had tried to teach her to cook, but the lack of communication between them had caused her to fail. She could gather wood, but the length of chain prevented her from going too far away from his presence. She had no idea how to cook in the overly large fire the men insisted on making each night. Many times, Bradley had been disgusted as she picked up the grubs she found in the wood and popped them in her mouth. She even grabbed at grasshoppers that jumped by her and stuck them in her mouth, crunching happily on this treat and spitting out the legs and shells. She had no idea what this other man wanted. She worried her new master was going to become angry with her, and she glanced around at the many people, mostly men, watching their exchange. She wondered if this new man would share her with the other men.

  “Mel,” he said again, tapping his chest then tapping on the young woman’s chest.

  Alinta wondered at this man’s persistence, then got a glimmer that perhaps he wanted her personal name. Tentatively, she said, “Alinta.”

  Mel smiled, showing off even and very white teeth. “Alinta,” he repeated back. As the woman looked up at the large man, he said her name again, nodded, and pointed at himself, seemingly waiting for something.

  Alinta thought a moment and realized the man wanted her to repeat his name. “Mel,” she answered, her voice just as tentative as when she said her own name.

  Mel nodded and smiled again, showing he was pleased. Alinta realized the man’s grimace was a smile and answered with one of her own. Alinta released a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding and nodded, treasuring their exchange. It was the first time someone had said her name in months, and while it wasn’t perfect—it didn’t have the subtle range like when her mother said it— but it was something. It was hers to share, and this man had given her his name.

  Mel gestured and indicated that Alinta should sit on her bed. She tensed slightly, but she obeyed. Perhaps now he would take her in full view of the other men. There were many more men than there had been before. Would he share her with them all as they had shared her mother?

  Instead, Mel went over to one of the wagons, uncovered a bundle hanging off the end, and using a knife, he cut chunks of meat from the carcass. Several dogs stationed on the near side of the flock looked towards the fire and saw what Mel was doing. They waited impatiently, shifting their positions while looking towards the sheep then back towards the man. Mel took a while to fill the bucket and then covered the carcass back up with a bag. Tying it closed, he carried the bucket to one of the fires the vaqueros had kindled, not wishing to use the one that the carters had built. He skewered several of the chunks of meat and placed them over the coals. One of the men and all three of Carmen’s boys helped turn the many chunks until they were seared through, the fatty flesh of the mutton sizzling in the coals as it dripped. Mel did this until all the meat was roasted, cutting the cooling chunks into smaller pieces and tossing them back into the bucket. Then he began to head out to the flock, stopping by each dog to portion out their meal. Slowly, Mel made his way around the flock, making sure not to scare the sheep but also making certain the dogs recognized his tread. He fed all the dogs, including those owned by Carmen.

  Alinta had watched, amazed, as Mel put the chain down at her feet and cut the cooked flesh easily using one of the white man’s stones her father had coveted so. She had seen many of these stones in the camp at various times over the months she had spent with them. Each man seemed to own many such tools, and they didn’t seem to value or prize them as much as her people would have. She only knew she was not to touch them. Bradley had once clouted her when she went to touch one of their sharp edges as it shone in the hot Australian sun.

  Alinta looked around, surprised that no one seemed to mind her just sitting there on the bed the man had made. He hadn’t physically claimed her yet, but she anticipated that he would, although there was no tent and no privacy here. That lack of privacy did not bother the earthy woman, but she would miss the protection she felt inside the tent. She looked across to the carter’s fire and saw Bradley gazing angrily at her as he sipped from the bottle he kept in his shirt pocket. That was the bottle he used as a threat if she refused to eat. She wondered if he would come to claim her back when the other white man was done with her. She was surprised when Mel took the bucket of meat and several others, including some boys, helped him cook the flesh over the coals and flames. She looked at the white boys curiously. She hadn’t seen children very often since she left the gathering. She’d seen white children in some of the towns they went through, but she had learned to keep her head down and not draw attention to herself while perched on her seat or in with the bags of wool as Bradley drove the wagon.

  Mel ignored her and went to feed some of the odd dingo-like beasts she had noticed around the other odd bleating animals. She watched until Mel went off into the darkness then glanced back, and sure enough, Bradley was still watching her and drinking from the same bottle. She was relieved when Mel finally returned from the darkness with the bucket now filled with water he had gathered at the stream. He used it to wash his face and indicated Alinta should do the same, but no matter how many gestures he made or how often he used her personal name, she couldn’t understand what he wanted. Not used to washing, and not having bathed in months to clean away the personal sweat or anything else from her body, Alinta didn’t understand. Personal smell was unique to each person, and she had always felt so exposed when the rain had washed away all the sweat, dust, and layers from her body. It had left her skin feeling open and prime for the many bugs to bite in the Outback.

  Mel finally gave up and went to sit with a few of the others.

  “What are you going to do with her?” one of the men helping with the sheep asked from where he was sitting around one of the fires.

  “Keep her,” Mel grunted out, not willing to go into detail. It was none of the man’s business.

  Carmen glanced up at that declaration and said nothing. She too had been aware of Bradley’s scrutiny since he had lost the woman at cards. She didn’t think Mel had cheated the man, but she wondered at Mel’s ownership of the woman now. She’d spoken low in Spanish to Paco, giving him a word of warning that he spread to the other vaqueros. They were all ready in case trouble broke out with the carters.

  Mel finally went to bed, using the ground sheet to keep off the ground and rolling up in his blanket, then indicating that Alinta should do the same. She was on the far side of the man, his larger body blocking the fires and the view of Bradley, who was still nursing his bottle and staring rudely across the fires at the aboriginal woman.

  Late that night, Mel rolled over with a gun in his hand as a shadow loomed. “I suggest you go back to your fire and sleep it off mate,” he suggested, the glint of the gun in his hand showing Bradley that he had been ready for him. Bradley backed off warily, surprised and alarmed at the American. It was then he realized that several of the Hispanic men also had rifles trained on him. He pretended not to see them as he made his way unsteadily back towards his tent.

  Mel got up early, able to sleep after all. He was tired, but not so tired he wouldn’t do his fair share of the work. He rolled up his blanket and ground sheet, smiled at Alinta, and indicated the woman should roll hers up too. Mel showed her how to roll it, so it would remain snug, then tied it off, placing Alinta’s in the wagon and tying his to the back of the saddle. Together, they walked into the brush, so that they could relieve themselves. Mel was pleased that she didn’t have to tell Alinta what to do as she ascertained their need for privacy. Mel turned his back as he squatted similar to Alinta, pulling down his trousers so he could take care of the necessities, then covering up his leavings with dirt using his boot. He used the paper he had brought to wipe himself and felt a tug on the chain as Alinta used a leaf to do the
same. Mel turned away, waiting for Alinta to finish and looking out at the land, so he wouldn’t stare at the woman’s backside. Mel was determined to find her some trousers at the next town. None of the clothes he had would fit the thin woman. For now, the oversized shirt would have to do.

  Others were stirring as they returned, some heading out into the same brush to do their own morning rituals and grunting in passing. Mel gathered the horses, using his immense strength to put the pack saddles on each of them. He placed his papers in the saddlebag. Alinta watched, fascinated, and taking more of an interest in Mel’s doings than she ever had in Bradley’s, who had seemed to only want one of two things from her: sex and ownership. She had been surprised that the white man hadn’t taken her the night before and wondered if he would be giving her back to Bradley, but he made no sign to take her back.

  After a breakfast shared by the drovers and the carters, they said their goodbyes. The wagons stacked high with wool heading southeast, and the supply wagons and carts heading west and a little north, farther into the Outback, followed by the sheep and then the horses. George Granger had tried to buy some of the horses from Senora Pearson, but she wouldn’t sell. Backed up by the guns of her very capable looking vaqueros, he wasn’t about to argue with the woman. She wished him well and on his way before being helped into the saddle of her mighty stallion and heading off after her other horses.

  Alinta had been surprised when Mel brought her a plate and encouraged her to eat. The woman kept glancing back at Bradley and the other carters she was familiar with. Strangely, this morning, she was hungry, and she ate what Mel brought her. When she was finished, Mel showed her how to wash up from the bucket, and while she didn’t do a very good job, wiping her fingers on her shirt instead, she understood a little more of what this man was trying to get her to do. After making sure all the packs on his horses were tight, Mel signaled to Alinta to come closer, and to her surprise, she was lifted into one of this man’s wagons. Mel handed her the length of chain that was attached to her neck. She glanced from the big man back to Bradley, who still wore a sullen look on his face, his bleary eyes glaring at the aboriginal woman and the large white man. She realized that this white man owned her now.