Tears trickled down Jacks face. He looked at Wiremu who shook his head then looked away. Jack blubbed, “But, but, he killed my dog.”
“Yes he did Jack. Tell me what would have you done. Think carefully and answer honestly.”
He paused and then said, “I, I don’t know.”
“I don’t know either Jack. I wasn’t there. But from what you have told me there were two choices. The first was to try and save the dog. It was a neck wound, it had lost alot of blood, the dog was suffering, you were miles from your home and it had to be carried all the way. The second option was the one Doug took; to put the dog out of its misery, to kill it. Certainly the easier option of the two, especially if you have no emotional attachment to the animal. So Jack put yourself in Doug’s shoes. Try to think how he would have thought at the time. What would you have done if you were Doug?”
Silence.
Then Jack mumbled, “Done the same... Maybe.” He grabbed a stick and poked at the embers in the fire. “I still don’t like him,” he added.
“And you may never like him Jack. But your mother does and you certainly like her. Love her, you told me. So the question you need to ask yourself is: ‘Do I dislike him enough to spoil my mother’s happiness?’”
Silence.
“Well do you Jack?”
Silence.
“Jack?”
Wiremu blurted, “Of course you don’t Jack. Think of your mother for chrissakes!”
“No,” said Jack.
“No?” Said Konosu.
“No, I don’t dislike Doug enough to spoil my mother’s happiness.” And in a whisper, “I love her so much.” And he dropped his head and shook uncontrollably as he cried and cried and cried and his friends went to him and put their arms around him and comforted him.
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They were at the bush edge again about to part company. The possums had been skinned and they loaded the skins and the traps onto Jacks pony. “Thankyou for the food and your company. It was much appreciated.” Said Konosu.
“I’ll get some more for you as often as I can,” replied Jack.
“Me too!” Said Wiremu.
“When will you be back?” Asked Konosu.
“I don’t know yet, but probably tomorrow, eh Mu?”
“Yeah in the ‘arvo prob’ly, after we’ve checked the traps.”
“Where are you setting the traps this time?”
Pointing, Jack said, “Up that ridge there. Haven’t tried it there before.”
Wiremu added, “Yeah and we better get a move on or we won’t get ‘em set and get these skins into town by the end of the day!”
Jack looked at Konosu and said, “Um, thanks for everything today. You’ve really helped me to see things differently.” He put out his hand which Konosu gripped with two hands and shook once. Jack continued, “I think it’s going to work out okay now, I really do. I feel so much better about things and I’m going to make it up to my mother... And Doug as well, when I get home.”
Konosu bowed and then said, “I am pleased Jack. Perhaps the gods meant us to find each other. Look at us. We have become better people in the short time since we met.”
“Jeepers you two can talk some dribble. C’mon let’s get outta here before we all start blubbing again!” Said Wiremu.
They laughed and Konosu said, “Goodbye, my friends.”
“See you later Konosu,” Jack and Wiremu both said at once. And they wandered off down the river and slipped around the first bend.
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Jack arrived back at his house right on dusk. He walked Rosy into the barn and removed the bridle and saddle from her and quickly dried and brushed her over and checked her hooves for any stones or damage. He fitted her canvas cover and then filled a bucket with oats. She followed him out into the paddock to eat the oats and graze. Jack patted his horse and said, “Good girl Rosy”, then left her for the night as he made his way to the house. Removing his boots and hanging his jacket and haversack on a hook in the porch he opened the back door that led directly into the kitchen. The warmth of his home enveloped him as he said, “Hi mum. Hi Doug!” He leaned his rifle in the corner of the room and looked across at them. They were both seated at the table sharing a pot of tea. He looked at her mother’s face; she was happy, smiling, radiant even, like he hadn’t seen her in a long time. He smiled back at her.
“Doug is it now? First time you’ve called me that Jack. Not that I mind none. Rather be called Doug than Mister Brown.”
Ellen said, “How was your day Jack? You seem happier than you did last night. You’ve obviously had a good one.”
“Yep, it was good thanks. Got twelve skins today, twenty yesterday and they’re all skinned and delivered to Mister Rasch.”
“And you set the traps again, did ya?” Asked Doug.
“Yep, and we’ll skin those tomorrow and take them in when we go to school on Monday.”
“And what’s Mister Rasch hoping to get for those skins again?” Asked Ellen.
“Well he said he would give us 4/6 for browns and 6/6 for silver greys once his buyer picks them up.”
“Not bad, not bad at all,” said Doug.
His mothers face went serious. “Now Jack a couple of things I want to discuss with you, and don’t think I’m picking on you because I’m not, but these things need to be sorted. One, you didn’t do your chores this morning and two, we need to finalise this not attending school thing.”
Jack thought: Here we go I’m about to receive my punishment. We’ll you knew it had to come sometime so just accept it and take it like a man. He said, “Yeah I know I’m really sorry about that mum. I was just in a rush this morning and didn’t remember till I was up in the bush. I won’t forget again. I promise.”
“Well, alright we’ll let that go this time. Now I discussed the second matter with Doug and he has convinced me, so you can thank him for this, to let you off with a warning this time. But don’t think you got away with it scot free ‘cause you didn’t Jack. We will be keeping an eye on you and we will be checking that you are attending school when you’re meant to be. And that goes for every day of the week, not just Fridays. Understand?”
“Sure mum. Thanks for that and, and thanks Doug. Oh boy I was so worried. You’re the best.” And he went to her and hugged her.
Ellen added as she hugged him back, “Don’t let us down Jack.”
“I won’t. I promise. What’s for tea mum? I’m starving,” Jack said as he broke the embrace and walked to the stove to check what was in the pots.
Ellen replied, “Don’t touch that Jack you haven’t washed yet.” Then she added, “We’re having chops, pumpkin, spuds and silver beet. Now go and clean up before tea.”
“Yum sounds good,” he said as he headed for the bathroom.
Doug said, “Listen Jack, just one thing before you go?”
Jack stopped in mid stride and turned to face Doug.
“Yes Doug?”
“Why’d ya take that tarp this morning?”
“Tarp?”
“Yeah, the tarpaulin. The cover for the horse that was hanging over the fence. What’d ya do with it?”
“Oh that. Um, I took it up the bush.”
“Yeah, I gathered that. But why did ya take it up the bush?”
Jack hesitated. “Um, ‘cause we, um, ‘cause I thought that we could use it as a shelter for when it rains...You know somewhere to sit under while we ate our lunch or skinned the possums. To stop us getting wet.”
Doug smiled and stared straight into Jack’s eyes. He didn’t say anything for a moment then he said, “Good idea Jack.” And gave him a wink. Then he said, “Thought it musta been somethin’ like that. Just make sure it comes back when ya done. We’ll be getting another horse in the spring and I’ll need it.”
“Sure. No problem.” Jack turned and walked away. Relieved.
Closing his eyes briefly he took a deep breath then exhaled slowly, as he made his way to the bathroom.
After Jack had left the room Ellen said to Doug, “Well that’s a nice turnaround isn’t it?”
Doug wasn’t listening. “Sorry what?”
“I said that was a nice turnaround, from Jack. From what he’s been like. I mean he was actually pleasant just then. He was smiling, he was polite and he called you Doug. He even hugged me. Long may he stay like that.”
“Mmm.” Doug stared straight ahead at the door way. The one Jack had just passed through.
“Doug you’re not even listening to me. What are you thinking about?”
He broke his gaze and looked at her. “Oh nothin’ Ellen, nothin’ at all.”
But Doug was thinking alright. Thinking about Jack and that tarpaulin. Thinking about Jack and his change in attitude. Something was amiss. Something wasn’t right. Something stunk. Stunk real bad like shit or a rotting corpse. And Doug was going to find out what it was. He needed to know. Because that Jack was a crafty bugger. Couldn’t be trusted that’s for sure. So he would watch him. Watch him closely. And he would find out. With a little patience he would find out...
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Jack woke the next morning after a peaceful night’s sleep and as he dressed he thought briefly of his conversation with Doug and smiled. He handled it quite well, he thought, and Doug had seemed happy enough with his answer. He patted himself down to feel for the slingshot, stones and pocket knife he always carried with him. It was a morning ritual that he performed without fail and he never felt properly dressed unless he had these three items on him. A later addition to those items he carried in his pockets, was a handful of .22 ammunition and he rummaged around in his shirt pocket and found a dozen or so rounds. He crept quietly down the hallway and glanced casually into his mother’s bedroom as he passed. He saw only his mother lying there and kidded himself that he wouldn’t have cared if Doug had been lying next to her. The conversation from last night with Doug slipped from his mind as he went straight outside to begin his chores. It was still dark and bitterly cold as he crunched through the frost in his boots. He let the chooks out and scattered some wheat for them, milked the cow and fed the pigs. He patted Jess and filled her water bowl as he passed and promised that he would be back early today to play with her. He chopped some kindling and gathered an armful of wood before returning to the kitchen. He lit the coal range and stood there for a while warming his hands. Then he downed a hastily made breakfast, guzzled a glass of milk and filled his bag with food and other items, not only for himself but for Konosu. He took more potatoes and onions, found some flour and rolled oats and cut a slab of cheese and butter and put it in his haversack. He found an old carving knife at the back of a drawer and wrapped it in a tea towel and placed it in his bag. He took a leftover chop from the meat safe and wrapped it in some paper and shoved that in as well. Half a loaf of bread went in and a couple of candles before he grabbed his rifle and went out the door. He sorted through all the coats and jackets that hung on the hooks in the porch until he found an old woollen coat of his father’s that was hidden underneath. He wore this over the top of his jacket unbuttoned, and rolled up the sleeves as they hung well past his hands. He went to the vegetable garden and tore several pods of broad beans off the tall plants that were staked to protect them from the wind. He cut a bunch of leaves from the four or five silver beet plants that constantly grew there and stuffed them all in his bag. He went to the barn and found a small pumpkin that was stored with a dozen others and forced that into his bag as well. He went again to the chook house and saw one egg which he took and wrapped carefully in his hat and placed that in his bag. Finally he saddled his horse and mounted her. He started to leave then changed his mind. He got off and walked quickly to the woodpile. He picked a small axe, wedged in the chopping block, a tomahawk he called it, (he used to use it when he was younger but now used the bigger axe) and with the head of the axe inside and the handle sticking out, he slung his weighty bag over his shoulder. As the sun peeped over the ridge he remounted his horse and with a flick of the reins faded into the mist that shrouded the land.
Doug had heard Jack get up and he waited until he heard the back door slam before he left his room and went to the kitchen window to watch. He watched him go about his chores and as Jack returned to the house with a pail of milk Doug snuck quickly back to his room. He lay back on his bed again and smoked a cigarette as he listened to the sounds. He heard Jack go outside again and then the sound of chopping. After a while he heard Jack return to the kitchen and dump a load of wood. Then he listened to the clanging and banging Jack made with pokers and wood on the cast iron as he made a fire in the coal range. He heard drawers and cupboards being opened and closed and then finally silence as once again he heard the back door slam shut. He looked out his bedroom window and saw Jack come around the side of the house. He was wearing a large coat, a coat way too big for him and he had his bag slung on his shoulder. He watched as Jack went to the vegetable garden and took the beans and silver beet and then disappeared around the back of the house. Doug got up and rushed to the kitchen window once more. He saw Jack enter the barn and then return with a pumpkin that he shoved in the bag that he carried. Then he saw him go to the chook house and come out with an egg in his hand which he also put in his bag after first slipping it into a hat. Just as Doug thought Jack had left on his horse he appeared again and he saw him take the axe from the woodpile. Finally Jack left, for good. Doug scratched his arse as he considered what he had just seen. He filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. He opened the door of the coal range and threw more wood on the fire and gave it a poke with a stick. He opened the back door and went outside and peed on the grass as he thought about things. He closed his eyes as he breathed in the cool morning air, in through his nose and out through his mouth, in through his nose and out through his mouth. The steam from his breath enveloping his head for an instant before dissipating. He opened his eyes and violently coughed, bringing up a mouthful of tar filled phlegm. He spat the gunk a distance of about six feet and watched it as it stuck to the branch of a lemon tree. It hung there until it stretched and expanded, until most of broke away and fell on the ground to look like a deformed slug. He finished peeing, gave it a couple of flicks and tucked it away. He wiped his hands on his trousers, turned and walked back inside. He rolled a cigarette, lit it and waited for the kettle to boil. He smoked until he couldn’t hold the hot wet butt anymore without burning himself and dropped it in the sink and washed it down the plug hole. He went to the kettle, saw it was boiling and threw in a handful of tea. He moved it off the heat gave it a stir and let it brew as he rinsed two cups and set them aside. He waited, patiently, gazing out the window at nothing, until the tea was just right, and then he poured it into the cups and added milk to both of them. To his he added a dollop of honey and then he gave it a stir. He picked up the cups and wandered through to Ellen’s bedroom. “Morning honey, I’ve made ya a cuppa.” He said as he entered the room.
“Oh, what time is it,” she yawned.
“Still early.”
“It’s Sunday Doug, is everything alright?”
“Everythin’s fine Ellen. Nothin’ could be better.” He replied with a scowl. A scowl that went unnoticed by Ellen who couldn’t see his face in the dim light of her room. Because Doug had been thinking, and he had worked out what he was going to do. He had devised a plan. A plan that would expose Jacks little tricks and his dishonesty and his thieving ways.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
RETURN TO WANEA
“H
ell is that the time?” Said Dad as he looked at his watch. “C’mon it’s time to hit the hay. I’ve got something special planned for you in the morning and we’ll need to be up early,” he added.
He had talked off and on for two days and well into the nights as the storm raged outside. The only stoppages
were for tea and coffee and sandwiches and toilet stops and the unavoidable chores. Later, near the end of the day, it was beer and cheese on toast and leftovers, then after dinner a fine malt whiskey sipped slowly, savoured as his story was revealed to me. And I sat there absolutely enthralled in his past life, feeling I was somehow part of it. That I was somehow there when it all happened, such were the vivid images that played in my mind like a classic movie. And there were times in the listening that my vision blurred with tears as my emotions welled up and spilled over. And there were times in the telling that my father had to excuse himself from the room, to go to the toilet he said, to blow his nose another excuse, but I could hear it in his voice and see it misting in his eyes, as the past came alive again, his life relived, replayed right here in the comfort of his living room, many years later. Feelings suppressed and hidden from long ago, memories packed away in a long forgotten trunk, to gather dust and cobwebs in the dark recesses of his mind. And I knew I was part of my father now. Not just in flesh and blood, but in mind, as I saw what had shaped and moulded him and made him who is today. But I knew this was only part of his story. That there was more to come. The chapter in the book that covered his life in Putumu was only half written and I wanted him to write the rest. I was impatient to read the rest of the story. I wanted it come to a conclusion. To tie up the loose ends. To see how it all worked out. And as I got the impression that he wasn’t going to continue with his story tomorrow, I started to get irritated, a little pissed off actually, and I snapped back, “Oh yeah and what’s that?”
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