The Lost Man

by Jane Harper

  “And Cam hired you?” Nathan said, and they looked over. “Was that prearranged, or—?”

  “No. Just lucky.” Simon swallowed and put his fork down. “We were in the pub in town and got talking to him. I’ve worked in a few trades at home, so I’ve been helping fix the fences, water bores, whatever.”

  Harry’s features moved a hair’s breadth, and Nathan wondered how much help the new guy had actually been.

  Simon nodded at Katy. “And she’s a teacher, so it worked out well with the girls here. Doing their School of the Air lessons with them.”

  Katy gave a small smile. She had put down her knife and was picking at her thumbnail.

  “Do you like it out here?” Xander asked.

  “Love it,” Simon said. Katy didn’t reply.

  “Must be a fair change of pace for you,” Nathan said.

  “That’s kind of the point,” Simon said, and Nathan had a vague sense he was being patronized. “You don’t get anything like this at home. We were blown away by how big these stations actually are when we first came out. We passed through one in W.A. which was half the size of Wales.”

  “Oh.” Nathan had no idea how big Wales was, but it didn’t surprise him. “So you’ve worked at other stations?”

  “Yeah, a couple.”

  “Where?”

  “Out west, mostly.”

  “Yeah, you said. West is a bloody big place.”

  “I don’t think you would have heard of it.”

  “Try me.”

  “Armistead.”

  Nathan hadn’t heard of it, much to his irritation. “Where’s that, exactly?”

  “Kind of east of Perth.”

  “Everything’s bloody east—”

  Liz dropped her fork on her plate with a clatter. “Jesus, Nathan.”

  “Why don’t you let them eat in peace, mate?” Harry said.

  “No, it’s my fault,” Simon said. “It’s a crap description, I know. But it’s so hard out here. There’s nothing to help pinpoint things.”

  That was only true, Nathan thought, if you were completely blind to the subtleties of the land.

  Across the table, Xander swallowed his mouthful. “What brought you over to Queensland?”

  Simon had taken a sip of water and took his time swallowing. “Weather.”

  “Really?”

  “Too bloody hot in W.A.”

  “You know this is officially the hottest part of Australia?”

  “Oh. I didn’t, actually. Still, better than the freezing fog at home, isn’t it?” Simon looked to Katy, who blinked, distracted.

  “Sorry. What?” She had been staring at something unseen out of the window. The sky was dusky as evening drew in.

  “I was saying—”

  He was interrupted by the landline jangling loudly from the hall. Word must be spreading, Nathan thought.

  “I’ll get it.” Harry started to stand, but Liz was already gone, leaving her plate practically untouched. Harry looked at the empty doorway for a moment, then shook his head.

  “We’re so sorry about Cameron,” Simon said, to no one in particular. Katy was picking her nails again. “He was a great guy. When we were in town looking for work, we heard a lot of nice things about him, and people were right. They all said we’d be lucky to work for him.”

  That was probably true, Nathan thought. Cameron had a reputation for being a good boss.

  “I hadn’t actually realized at first that you still lived so close to town yourself, Nathan,” Simon was saying.

  “Not that close, nearly three hours away.”

  “Yeah, relatively speaking, though. I’d got the impression you’d moved further away.”

  “Nope.”

  Katy had looked up now as well, and both she and Simon were watching Nathan with curiosity. He wondered what else people had been saying in town while they were singing Cam’s praises. Although he didn’t need to wonder, really. He could guess. The atmosphere had grown awkward, but Nathan did nothing to displace it. He simply stared back, impassive, until Simon dropped his eyes. The backpacker turned to Xander.

  “You live with your dad?”

  “No,” Xander said. “I go to school in Brisbane.”

  The eternal diplomat, Nathan thought, with a rush of something both sharp and sweet. Seven words that glossed over a decade-long tug of war between him, his ex-wife, Jacqui, and, now, her new husband as well. Fractious phone calls, lawyers’ letters, court orders, visitation schedules, and always, always, the legal bills. Xander flashed a half-smile at Nathan as though he knew what he was thinking.

  “Will you go into property management as well, do you think?” Simon asked.

  “Oh. No. I don’t think so. It’s not really—” Xander saw Nathan, Bub, and Harry all watching him, and he hesitated. “I want to go to uni. I’m not too sure after that.”

  He looked a little embarrassed, but was saved by movement at the kitchen door. They all looked up. In the doorway stood Cameron’s wife, turned freshly made widow. Ilse had one hand on the doorjamb and an unsteady air about her. Her light brown hair was unbrushed and had been pulled back hastily with an elastic band. Her face was flushed and shiny, and it was clear she’d been crying.

  Nathan didn’t sit up in his chair. He didn’t straighten his shoulders or run a hand through his hair or neaten his shirt. The urge was so instinctive, he found it a little uncomfortable to resist, like holding his breath. But still, he didn’t move. He just sat there, pushing back against involuntary reactions. Eventually, he counted to three and allowed himself to raise his eyes and glance at Ilse, just once.

  She wasn’t even looking at him.

  7

  Ilse hovered in the doorway, looking very much like she wanted to turn and leave.

  “Come and sit down.” Harry beckoned to her, and she took a few steps in. “Are the girls coming?”

  “They’re asleep. Lo’s in Liz’s room. She wouldn’t settle in her own.”

  Katy stood up. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

  “It’s fine. I’m not—” Ilse started, but Katy had already placed a plate in front of the remaining vacant spot next to Nathan.

  The hesitation was so brief Nathan could almost tell himself he imagined it, then he felt the cotton of Ilse’s shirt brush against his arm and heard the soft creak of the chair as she sat down beside him.

  “Nice to see you, Nathan.”

  “You, too.”

  He could still remember the first time he’d seen Ilse standing in this kitchen. It was nine years ago and only the fifth time he’d seen her at all. He had walked in and seen someone standing alone at the sink, refilling a water jug. Nathan had registered her dress, her light brown hair, and the curve of her back before he fully realized who he was looking at.

  She had turned, and they’d both stopped and stood there wordlessly, each as surprised as the other. Nathan had taken a breath to say—what? To this day, he didn’t know—when Cameron had swept into the room and up to Ilse. He’d put his palm against the small of her back and gently moved a stray strand of hair before kissing her cheek. Nathan had made his lungs release the air and, with effort, shut his mouth. Later, Ilse had caught him alone in the hall.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” she’d said.

  No shit, he’d thought. Same here. “Well, Cameron’s my brother,” he’d said out loud.

  “I didn’t know that when I met him. I’m sorry.”

  But she hadn’t looked sorry, she’d looked happy. Ilse did not look happy now.

  “How are the girls, Ilse?” Harry asked.

  “Confused. Full of questions. Same as everyone. I have no idea how to explain it to them.” Her voice was tight, and she looked across at Bub, who was busy clearing his plate. “You were about their age when your dad died.”

  Bub’s fork slowed. “I suppose.”

  “Did anyone say anything that helped you understand what was going on?”

  It was a sign of Ilse’s des
peration that she was even asking, Nathan thought. Bub started eating again.

  “Dunno,” he said, still chewing. “Not really. I was okay.”

  That wasn’t even close to true, Nathan knew. Nathan had been barely twenty-one when their dad died, with Cameron two years behind. But Bub had only been eight, and there had been nightmares. Nathan had seen and heard them for himself when he’d come home, the whole house waking up to the sound of shrieks. Bub’s face shiny with sweat and tears, saying that Dad was alive, but now bloodied and furious at what had happened to him. The nightmares had lasted for years, apparently; Nathan wasn’t sure exactly how long. There were plenty of things worse than bad dreams, but Bub had not been okay, not at all.

  “Did anyone actually talk to Uncle Cam before he left on Wednesday?” Xander looked around the table.

  Harry pointed his fork at Simon. “We’d both already gone, but—” He gestured at Katy, who nodded.

  “I saw him. Briefly. The girls and I were playing in the schoolroom—it’s in that cabin near the stable?” she said. “I went to get something from the house and saw Cameron heading to his car.”

  “Did he say anything?” Nathan asked.

  “Only that he was on his way to meet Bob—sorry, sorry, Bub—at Lehmann’s Hill. I asked if they were both still planning to stay out overnight, so I didn’t need to worry about them for dinner. He said yes, and they would be back the next day.”

  “And how did he seem?” Nathan asked.

  “I didn’t really know him that well.”

  “You can say what you think, though.”

  She was still picking at her nails. Simon noticed and put his hand on hers.

  “Honestly,” Katy said finally, “he seemed quite agitated. And he was keen to get going, like he had something to do that he wanted to get out of the way. I assumed it was the Lehmann’s Hill trip, though.”

  “Did he say he didn’t want to go?”

  “No, nothing like that. Not to me, at least. He got in his car and headed off, and that’s when—” Katy looked over at Ilse, attempting to pass the narrative along.

  Ilse, who was sitting very still, did not take it up.

  Nathan turned to her. “You saw Cam too?”

  “Yes,” she said at last. “I was further along the driveway, bringing in one of the horses. He had to go past me to leave.”

  “Did he stop and talk?” Bub said. He had stopped eating and started paying attention since Lehmann’s Hill was mentioned, Nathan realized.

  “Of course he did. He’s my husband,” Ilse snapped. She took a breath. “Sorry, Bub.”

  “No worries. What did he say?”

  Ilse’s face tightened. Nathan could understand that she might be reluctant to share her final personal exchange with her husband with the group, but he was as keen to know as anybody.

  “He said he would see me when he got back.”

  “That’s it?” Bub said. “And what did you say?”

  “To drive safe, and I would see him then.”

  “Oh.” Bub looked disappointed, and Ilse’s eyes were suddenly hard and shiny.

  “Well, I’m sorry, but what did you expect? I didn’t know—” She fished a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose.

  Nathan turned to Bub. “And Cam definitely told you he was going to meet you at Lehmann’s?”

  “Yeah. We spoke the day before on the radio.”

  “But not on the Wednesday morning?”

  “No. No need, mate. I knew what we were doing.”

  Harry was watching Bub. “How did he sound when you spoke?”

  “I already said. He seemed fine.”

  “Seeming fine isn’t the same as being fine.” The voice came from the door, and they all looked up to see Liz. She had been crying again. Nathan wondered how long she’d been standing there. She was still looking at Bub in mild despair, but he just shrugged, like he couldn’t see the distinction in what she’d said.

  “Did you see Uncle Cam before he left, Grandma?” Xander said.

  “No.” The weight of regret seemed to make the air in the room grow heavier. “But it was obvious something was wrong with him.”

  Nathan saw Ilse’s expression harden.

  “Where were you? Out riding?” Nathan said, and was relieved when Liz nodded. His mum rode almost every morning of her life. Nathan privately used it as a bellwether for her health, and knew Cameron had too. He looked pointedly at the table where her plate was still waiting, but Liz shook her head.

  “No. I’m going to bed.”

  “Who was on the phone?” Harry asked.

  “Caroline from the post office.”

  “Word’s hit town, then.”

  “Yes. Sounds like it.”

  “What did she want?”

  “Same as everyone else. She said she wanted to help.” Liz shook her head. “But all they really want to know is what happened.”

  Liz looked around the kitchen as though the answer might materialize, but Nathan could see only baffled faces staring back.

  “What are you telling them?” he said finally.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what to tell them.” Her face creased. “I have to try to sleep, I’ll see you all in the morning.” She was gone and the doorway was empty once more. After a moment, Katy stood up and started stacking the dishes.

  “What were you and Simon doing, Uncle Harry?” Xander asked.

  “Checking a few of the northeastern bores. Thanks, Katy—” Harry passed his plate over. “We were gone before dawn, so we missed Cam completely.”

  “Big area,” Nathan said. “You get them all done or do you need some help?”

  “I think we’re mostly right,” Harry said. “I did the eastern side, and Simon did the north.”

  Splitting up was the way to do it, Nathan thought. They’d cover an extra hundred kilometers that way, even if it meant working alone. They probably hadn’t seen each other all day. He looked from Simon to Harry and wondered why the thought had occurred to him.

  Bub drained his water glass. “It’s bloody weird Cam being out there at the grave. It’s a bit like that story about the real stockman.”

  “Bub, mate. For God’s sake.” Harry made a noise in his throat.

  Simon frowned and looked over at Bub. “What’s that?”

  Harry shook his head. “It’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s not.” Bub nodded at Nathan. “Go on, you tell it, you know how it goes. The one with the campfire and the travelers.”

  “No,” Nathan said.

  “But you know the one I mean. With the horses.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He felt Ilse shift in her chair. “But not now.”

  “How does it start again? There was this group of blokes or something.” Bub groaned. “I can never remember it properly. Just bloody do it, Nate. Go on, or I’ll have to.”

  The room was quiet, and the backpackers were watching expectantly. Nathan sighed.

  “It’s just this stupid legend they tell kids around here,” he said. “It’s supposed to have happened back in the 1890s, and the stockman wasn’t actually a stockman, he was a cattle rustler.”

  Katy had turned off the water in the sink and was paying attention.

  “He was part of a gang,” Nathan went on. “They saw all this space and all the absent property owners back then, and saw the chance to make a few bucks. It was nothing too flash, pretty much keeping off the main tracks, and rounding up any loose cattle that came their way. When they had as many as they could handle, they’d walk them down to Adelaide. Disguise the branding if they could, sell them cheap if they couldn’t.”

  He stopped.

  “Then one day, the horses went nuts,” Bub prompted.

  “Yeah, thanks, mate.” Nathan frowned. “So, yeah, one day they’re up in these parts and they all start having trouble with the horses. Skittish, you know, difficult to control, like they were spooked. So the stockman’s horse is the worst, and it gets to the point where he can barely kee
p up. So he calls it a day and stays behind to set up the group camp while the others get the cattle sorted for the night.” Nathan paused. “The story goes that he was alone for no more than an hour. When they got back, his swag was rolled out, and a campfire had been lit.”

  “The kettle was strung over but had boiled itself dry,” Bub jumped in. He lowered his voice meaningfully. “But there was no sign of the stockman.”

  The backpackers looked back to Nathan, who shrugged. “Like Bub says. No sign of the bloke, no sign of a struggle. His horse was still tied up, but barely. She was pulling and thrashing, like they do when they want to run. So his mates split up, ride around, can’t find him. They search until dark, but nothing. They wait the next day, but he never comes back, and eventually they have to move on ’cause they’ve got all these cattle still. Anyway, two days later, they run into this family of travelers coming north up the track and ask if they’ve seen any sign of their mate. The family seems a bit uneasy, then takes them around to look in one of their carts. In the back, all wrapped up in a blanket, is the body of the stockman. The family reckons they found him dead by the side of the track three days earlier and a hundred kilometers further south. They were taking him to the nearest town to see if anyone knew who he was. Apparently, his body was lying by the side of the road, no injuries, no water or supplies or anything with him.”

  “But if they were telling the truth, he was found dead the same day he disappeared.” Bub leaned back in his chair. “And too far away for him to walk, or even ride, so how did he get there?”

  Simon glanced up at Katy, who held out her rubber-gloved hands and shrugged. Simon shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “No, well, none of those guys knew either,” Nathan said. “So they panicked a bit, buried him right there where they were, and that would have been the end of it. But there’s always talk, and suddenly there were all these sightings of the dead stockman up and down the track, people claiming they’d seen him walking at night and things. Eventually workers started refusing to come here, saying it was haunted. There were a few accidents. Serious ones, a couple of people died. Anyway, it got so bad that eventually the landowner here at the time was forced to put the headstone up, to try to lay the whole ghost thing to rest and put a stop to the rumors. Didn’t really work, though. The story goes that if you dig, there’s nothing under that headstone. That the grave is empty.”