Danny Allen Was Here

by Phil Cummings

  ‘Yep,’ nodded Mark learnedly. ‘Stanley here is a bit of a renegade. He attacks anyone that comes near him. Apparently he butted old Mr Wallace and threw him up into the air with a single flick of his head. The poor bloke flew clean over his tomato patch, spinning and twisting. He landed flat on his back under the apple tree near his rainwater tank. That’s why he’s got a walking stick now.’

  Danny put his fingers through the wire fence and clung on. He peered in at Stanley. He looked strong but he didn’t look mean.

  Danny didn’t take his eyes off the big ram when he said, ‘I don’t believe you, Mark. He wouldn’t hurt anybody. He’s as gentle as a . . . lamb. I know because I used to feed him.’

  Mark picked up a stick. ‘Oh yeah? Watch this.’ He moved back a little from the fence and threw it at Stanley.

  ‘Hey!’ Danny cried. ‘Don’t do that!’

  The stick hit the ram between the eyes. He snorted and lowered his head before charging clumsily at the fence. The boys all jumped back as Stanley head butted the fence with a dust-stirring skid.

  ‘See!’ said Mark. ‘He’s mad. He’s a menace. If he got out of there, he’d kill someone.’

  With his brow deeply furrowed, Danny marched right up to Mark Thompson. ‘I bet you’d go mad too if some idiot threw a stick at you!’

  Mark lifted his shoulders and frowned darkly. ‘What did you call me?’

  Danny had never stood up to Mark Thompson before. He usually backed down. But not this time.

  ‘You heard me,’ said Danny, thrusting his neck forward like a turtle. ‘Don’t tease him.’

  They glared at each other.

  Sam broke the tension. ‘Look out! Here he comes again!’

  Stanley thrust his head at the fence for a second time. The tip of one of his curling horns became caught in the wire. Distressed, Stanley pulled wildly, twisting and shaking his head, trying to break free. The wire was tangled tightly. Mark laughed at Stanley’s frantic attempts to pull free. The fence rattled and shook.

  Danny lunged forward. He reached out to the wild whipping of the sharp horns.

  ‘Danny!’ Sam cried. ‘Get back!’

  Danny ignored him. He pulled at the fence, grabbed at the sharp horn and unravelled the wire. Stanley was free. Danny pedalled backwards, lost his balance and fell to the ground.

  The huge ram snorted and spun himself, kicking and bucking, in a swelling cloud of red dust. Then he was suddenly calm and stared back at the boys.

  ‘Now leave him alone!’ Danny bellowed. ‘You’d better hope he doesn’t have a memory, Mark, because if he gets out of there he’ll have you.’

  ‘You’re as mad as that stupid ram, Danny Allen,’ said Mark, pushing a foot into Danny’s leg.

  Sam grabbed at Mark’s grease-stained shirt. ‘Come on, Thommo, let’s go kick the footy. Maybe we can kick it over the hall.’

  Mark Thompson turned sharply to Sam. ‘I don’t think so. There’s no way you’ll get it over the hall!’

  ‘You never know, I might today.’

  ‘Huh, no chance. No chance! Let’s just kick it between the trees near the statue. My hamstrings are sore anyway and I won’t be able to kick too well today.’

  Sam and Mark walked away squabbling.

  Danny stayed with Stanley. As soon as the boys were out of earshot he talked softly to him. ‘Remember me, Stanley? I used to feed you.’ The ram seemed to be listening. ‘I gave you milk. You’ve got to remember me.’

  Stanley turned away and walked back toward the homestead.

  Danny watched him until he heard Vicki call. ‘Hurry up, Danny! You’ve got to push me.’

  Vicki was waiting in the playground. She was sitting on a swing that had a bright blue seat. ‘Look, Danny!’ she cried. ‘A new seat! Dad put a new seat on the swing.’

  ‘No, he didn’t,’ said Danny. ‘He painted it, that’s all. He’s going to paint the others in the next few days.’

  Vicki touched the seat as if it were gold. ‘It looks new.’

  Danny’s dad had been working on the playground. After a long day in the paddocks he had worked in the last light of the evening. He had a welder and had been a carpenter before becoming a farmer. The council had asked him to help fix the old playground. Danny’s dad said he could use the extra money so agreed to help out. Danny liked the sound of extra money. He thought he might ask for a new bike. He wanted a silver one that could do jumps. He wanted to ride cross-country down through the creek without having to worry about chains falling off, or pedals breaking.

  Vicki was sitting on the swing dangling her legs. ‘Push me, Danny! Push me. Come on. I want to fly like you and Sam do on the swings.’

  Vicki didn’t know how to make a swing fly. She was good at twisting them to make them spin her dizzy though. She told Danny he was the best swing flyer she’d ever seen. He knew she was lying. Sam was the best. He could make a swing fly so high he almost swung in a complete circle. ‘Teach me how to fly like you, Danny,’ she pleaded.

  Danny tried to explain to Vicki how to move her legs back and forth with the movement of the swing. She was hopeless. She either kicked her legs too much or at the wrong time. Danny tried for almost half an hour and she still couldn’t do it.

  He jumped onto the swing with the splintery seat next to her. ‘Look, watch me.’ He started swinging. Vicki watched intently.

  ‘All you have to do,’ Danny continued, ‘is move your legs with the swing. So when you go forward you push your legs out straight . . . see . . . and when you go backwards you tuck them under. See . . . it’s easy.’

  Vicki nodded enthusiastically. ‘Okay, now I get it.’

  Danny heard a car and turned to see Mr and Mrs Wallace pull out of their driveway. They stopped at the gate. Aunty Jean rolled her window down. ‘Hi kids,’ she called. ‘How did your dad go with the bank, Danny?’

  Danny didn’t know, but he gave an answer that made sense to him. ‘He got more money like always, Aunty Jean.’

  Aunty Jean turned to her husband and said something that Danny couldn’t hear. Then she waved. ‘See you then.’ The car pulled slowly away.

  ‘Watch me, Danny!’ Vicki cried. ‘You have to watch me.’

  Danny turned back to his sister.

  Vicki concentrated hard on her swinging, so much so that her tongue stuck out of the side of her mouth. She tried and tried but couldn’t get it. Her swing just wobbled from side to side.

  Danny sighed. He couldn’t be bothered. ‘You’ll get it, just practise for a while.’

  He set his swing in motion, pushed hard and took off. As he gained height he peered across to the Wallaces’ to see if he could spy Stanley. The paddock looked empty. Danny thought nothing more of it and turned back to enjoy the feeling of flying. He stuck his arms out like wings and pretended he was gliding.

  As soon as he was as high as he could go he closed his eyes. It was a great feeling – it was like a dream.

  Danny was enjoying himself until he heard frantic voices calling in the distance. The sounds of obvious panic aroused his curiosity. He opened his eyes. The wind whistling past his ears made the voices seem farther away than they actually were, but he recognised them straightaway.

  First he heard Mark Thompson.

  ‘Run! Hurry up! He’s gaining on us! Ruuuun!’

  Then he heard Sam.

  ‘You shouldn’t have teased him!’

  ‘He’s mad!’

  ‘He is now, thanks to you!’

  Danny slowed his swing and tracked the voices. They were coming from the other side of the cemetery.

  By the time Danny had stopped his swing Vicki was at the playground fence peering up the street to see what all the fuss was about. Danny ran to join her. That’s when everything became clear.

  Sam was the first to appear, sprinting around the corner. His arms and legs were pumping furiously. Hot on his heels was Mark Thompson. He might be able to kick a footy over the Mundowie Hall, but he was not a fast runner.

  He l
ooked clumsy and as if he were about to take a tumble with every step. His round cheeks were wobbling violently. His face was red and he was huffing and puffing loudly.

  The running style he used was funny to watch. He pulled his shoulders back and thrust his barrel chest out. His round knees came up very high. The way he pushed his chin into his chest made it look as if he didn’t have a neck. His eyes were bulging to an incredible size. And his whole body quivered with the pounding of his large feet. ‘Look out! Look out!’ he bellowed.

  Mark looked continually over his shoulder. Danny wasn’t sure why, until he saw what the boys were escaping. Stanley appeared. Danny would never have believed a ram could have such focus. He wanted those boys.

  Vicki smiled when she saw Sam and Mark racing. Her smile broadened when she saw Stanley charging after them. She didn’t understand the seriousness of the situation. Having watched her brothers at sports days, she thought that whenever people ran fast the idea was for the crowd watching to jump up and down and cheer. So she did.

  ‘Run, Sam! Go! You can win! You can win!’

  When she saw Stanley she pointed, laughed and cried out, bouncing up and down like a ball. ‘Ha, ha, a ram race! A ram race! Yay!’

  Danny leant over the playground fence. ‘In here, Sam!’ he cried, waving madly. ‘Run in here! Quick! We can hide in the fort.’

  The playground had an old wooden cubby house. Everyone called it the fort. It was hardly a fort but fort sounded better than cubby house. Mark Thompson took the credit for the name. He was never going to be a party to anything called a cubby house.

  With no other plan in place Sam took Danny’s advice. Mark was not far behind, but he was slowing. ‘Wait for me! Wait!’

  Stanley was tossing his head menacingly.

  Danny grabbed Vicki’s arm and stopped her from cheering. ‘Get into the fort! Quick!’

  ‘Why? I want to watch to see who wins.’

  ‘Sam wins, now run for the fort.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  Danny pulled Vicki from the fence. ‘I said run to the fort! Do as I say. I don’t want another day like the one at the dam.’

  Vicki put her hands on her hips and frowned defiantly. ‘What do you mean?’

  Danny looked her in the eye. ‘Well, if Stanley the giant ram spears you with his horns he’ll rip your guts out!’

  Vicki threw a quick glance at the size of the horns. She put a hand on her stomach. She suddenly realised what was happening. ‘I’m scared, Danny,’ she cried, tugging at her brother’s shirt. ‘You come with me!’

  ‘I will! I will! When Sam gets here.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Vicki, clutching Danny’s hand. ‘I’ll wait for Sam.’

  Sam arrived and ran straight past Danny and Vicki. ‘Come on!’ he panted. ‘Over to the fort! Hurry up!’

  Vicki wouldn’t let go of Danny’s hand. They ran toward the fort and Vicki trailed behind like the tail of a kite in a wild wind.

  Behind them they could hear the puffing and blowing of Mark Thompson. ‘Wait up!’

  Danny, Vicki and Sam were at the fort peering out the little window when they saw Mark stumble at the gateway of the playground. Grabbing hold of the gatepost he tripped and, with a violent twist of his tired body, fell to the ground. If there was a gate to shut, he would’ve been safe, but there wasn’t.

  Stanley saw the fall. He eyed the body on the ground and closed in.

  Sam stuck his head out of the fort window. ‘Thompson! Get up!’

  Mark didn’t need to be told. He was trying to get to his feet, but his legs were like jelly and he was out of breath. He lifted a hand and reached out desperately for help that wasn’t there. ‘Come and help me!’

  Mark rose to his knees and was on all fours. Stanley was right behind him. Mark’s large round bum, wobbling and shuddering, was a perfect target. Stanley dipped his head and ran hard. The contact he made must have given him great satisfaction. Thoomp! He butted the huge target with fantastic force.

  Mark was thrown sharply forward. ‘Agghh!’ His head struck a rock. Crack! The sound was sickening. Then he lay, flat and still, not moving at all.

  The hostages in the fort fell silent. They stared, waiting and hoping for movement. There was none; Mark looked dead.

  ‘What happened back there, Sam?’ asked Danny. ‘How did Stanley get out?’

  ‘Mr Wallace must have left a gate open,’ Sam panted. ‘Stanley was near the hall munching grass. He was wandering about quite happily minding his own business until Mark saw him and decided to kick the footy at him. The ball hit the ram in the face and, naturally, Stanley wanted to kill him.’

  ‘Well, he might have,’ gasped Danny, motioning toward Mark’s body. ‘He hasn’t moved, so he’s either unconscious or dead!’ Danny started to stand. ‘We have to help him.’

  Sam grabbed him. ‘We can’t go out there! You saw what that mad animal did to Thommo.’

  Vicki shook her head worriedly. ‘No, Danny, you can’t go out there. I don’t like guts coming out.’

  ‘Everyone shout,’ Sam suggested. ‘Someone might hear us.’

  ‘Who?’ said Danny. ‘Mr and Mrs Wallace aren’t home. I saw them go out in the car.’ He looked around. ‘And I don’t think anyone in the cemetery will hear us.’

  ‘Where’s Tippy?’ asked Sam.

  ‘I don’t know. He went off sniffing for something,’ said Danny.

  ‘Well call him, he’ll help us.’

  ‘No way!’ protested Danny. ‘He’s too little. Stanley would kill him with one blow.’

  At that moment Stanley thrust his horns grumpily at Mark again. He lay still and floppy. Stanley butted him again. Mark was pushed onto his back. The gash on his forehead where he had hit the rock became visible. It glistened.

  Danny couldn’t stand watching any more. ‘I’m going to help him.’

  Sam pushed a stiff arm across Danny’s chest, barring his exit. ‘Don’t be stupid!’

  Danny pushed the arm away. ‘Stanley won’t hurt me. I used to feed him.’

  Sam shook his head. ‘Sheep can’t remember things!’

  Danny put his hands firmly on his hips. ‘They know where all the best tracks in the creek are and how to get there. If they can remember that, then Stanley will remember me. It wasn’t that long ago that I used to nurse and feed him.’ Danny pointed in Mark’s direction. ‘And I have never teased him. I bet he remembered Mark. Stanley’s got no reason to be angry with me.’

  Before Sam could respond, Danny suddenly darted from the fort. Once out of the reach of his protesting brother he slowed down to a sneaking pace.

  ‘Don’t go, Danny!’ Vicki cried through the small window. ‘Come back in. Come back in!’

  ‘Yeah, don’t be an idiot, Danny,’ Sam called. ‘Get back here.’

  ‘He won’t hurt me,’ said Danny out of the corner of his mouth. ‘I know he won’t.’

  ‘You don’t know anything, Danny,’ said Sam. ‘He’s not a lamb any more. He’s mad!’

  Vicki put some hair into her mouth and started chewing nervously. ‘Daaannnyyyy,’ she whined.

  Sam watched silently. In his mind he ran through some strategies of what to do if Danny found himself in trouble. He would have to grab a big stick and charge.

  Danny stood in the playground and called gently to Stanley. ‘Hey, Stanley boy, hey?’

  He scooped up a handful of soft, powdery dust. He threw it into the air to attract Stanley’s attention. It drifted in a cloud over the ram’s head.

  Mark Thompson lay still, as if dead. The gash on his head looked disgusting. For an instant, Danny gained some wicked satisfaction at seeing the gash. Mark would need stitches and he didn’t like stitches. He couldn’t even look at Sam’s arm when he’d had stitches after the dune surfing. He even hated seeing the scar they’d left. Anyway, getting stitches would serve him right!

  Stanley looked up to the dust Danny had thrown. The big ram stepped back. He turned to look at Danny. Their eyes met.
<
br />   ‘Please come back in, Danny!’ Vicki cried.

  Danny bent down and pulled up a big tuft of green grass that was growing around the base of the playground tap.

  He held it out and offered it to Stanley. The big ram tossed his head once . . . then twice.

  Danny’s heart thumped hard against his chest. Stanley eyed him. Danny froze. Danny was sure he was going to charge. So was Sam. He moved to stand just outside the fort. Vicki held her breath.

  Stanley started to walk toward Danny, who didn’t flinch.

  ‘Keep still, Danny,’ Sam urged.

  Danny waved the grass tentatively. Stanley kept coming: slowly, cautiously, suspiciously.

  ‘Here, boy,’ said Danny nervously. ‘Have some grass.’

  Sam picked up a stick ready to charge at the big ram and beat him away if he took to Danny. Vicki turned away; she couldn’t watch. ‘I don’t like to see guts,’ she mumbled forlornly to herself.

  Danny offered the grass cautiously to Stanley’s nose.

  The ram sniffed and took a cautious step forward. He then began nibbling sedately. Danny knelt and pulled up more grass. A minute later he had a hand on Stanley’s back as the big ram munched happily at the small forest of grass around the tap.

  Danny looked to Sam. ‘The grass should keep him busy. Come on, let’s drag Thommo out of the way.’

  Sam moved slowly to stand with Danny. ‘If Stanley looks like having a go at us,’ he said, ‘we get back in the fort.’

  Danny nodded.

  Vicki called to her brothers. ‘What about me?’ she squealed. ‘Don’t leave me here, dooooon’t.’

  ‘You wait. We’ll get you in a minute.’

  ‘But I . . .’

  ‘No buts. Just wait in the fort and don’t come out. Got it?’

  Vicki nodded. ‘Well, hurry up then,’ she whined.

  Sam and Danny stood side by side. Staying close together they crept across the playground. Sam clutched his stick, ready to strike, just in case.

  They reached Mark without any problems. Stanley hadn’t even noticed them. The grass was good on this side of the fence.