by Karen Wood
‘I think we lost them,’ panted Toby.
‘Did you see the dogs?’ laughed Luke.
‘Yeah, that pup slobbered all over her!’
They rode for a little while longer and then Luke slipped off the horse and looked back behind him.
He gave a short whistle.
The bush was quiet.
Luke stood and waited, hopeful.
There was a rustle, and first Fang, then Filth, came gambolling along the track. Luke knelt on one knee and held his arms out. They dived into his lap and wiggled excitedly, puffing and slobbering profusely.
‘I think them pups wanna be yours,’ said Toby.
‘I reckon there’s no getting around it now,’ said Luke, jerking his chin away from an enthusiastic tongue. ‘Pwah, have to change their diet though. No more offal for you, matey,’ he said, pushing Filth away. ‘What about you? You going back?’
‘I ain’t going near them coppers,’ said Toby.
Luke wondered why but said nothing.
‘Don’t ask,’ said Toby.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Luke, shaking his head. ‘I ain’t gonna. But what about your dad?’
‘We know how to find each other out here, no worries,’ said Toby. ‘And if we run into a croc, you can wrestle him, like you did that buffalo.’
‘Are there crocs in this river?’
‘Prob’ly not.’
‘That means maybe yes.’
‘Yeah, but what are the chances?’ said the kid. ‘That’s what Dad always says.’
‘Yeah, what are the chances,’ agreed Luke.
They headed back along the river. When the pups got tired, Luke scooped them up and put them in the saddlebags. Toby broke tree branches and arranged various stones as they went, leaving a trail for Pete.
22
THE SUN WAS SETTING by the time they found the spot where Luke had camped with Tyson and Tex. When they reached the causeway, Luke quickly found the swag and his pack. They had been rolled up and placed under some bushes. Next to them was a bag of groceries and a handline with a few spare lures.
‘Bob’s been here,’ said Luke, pushing Filth’s nose out of the bag. ‘Look, he left us some tucker.’ He turned to Toby. ‘You any good at fishing?’
‘Never tried,’ said Toby, jumping down from Greybo and unbuckling his saddle.
‘Don’t worry. I’m an expert. I’ll catch us a big barra!’ said Luke. ‘There’s a big horse paddock behind all those trees,’ said Luke. ‘Let the horse go out there for a pick if you want.’ He showed Toby how to use a stirrup leather for hobbles.
Toby led the horse through the river and disappeared. Meanwhile, Luke inspected the lures. There were a few different types. He decided to just go for the biggest one. Surely that would catch the biggest fish. Pulling a few metres of line off the reel, he threw the lure into the water and tied the other end to a tree branch.
‘That oughta do it,’ he mumbled to himself, walking back to the bag of groceries. ‘No need to stand around holding it all night.’
There were tins of soup and some crackers. He rummaged through his pack and felt around for a box of matches, then collected some kindling to start a fire. A fat locust landed in his shoulder and clung on with its barbed legs. Crickets chirruped and birds argued with each other as the sun dipped below the horizon. Cane toads smashed about in the bushes. Filth started leaping in after them.
‘Don’t go eating one of those or you’ll be sorry,’ Luke said.
He struck a match and watched the fire crackle to life. Toby came back and sat next to him, wrapping his arms around his knees. He’d gone a bit quiet since the sun started setting. Fang nuzzled under his arm and the boy let him crawl onto his lap.
‘You all right there, little stockman?’
‘Yeah, me and Dad camp out all the time.’
Toby started rocking back and forth and looking around at the darkening trees and water. Luke thought of Chocky and the way he looked after Rusty.
‘I got a real good swag. You can sleep in it if you want, and I’ll sleep right next to you, just until your dad comes. He won’t be long.’
‘Yeah, he’ll be coming soon,’ said the kid, nodding and looking into the fire.
Luke dragged the end of a big branch over and laid it on the flames, then opened the box of crackers and offered it to Toby, who shook his head.
‘Reckon there really would be any salties?’ Toby asked.
‘Probably not.’
‘That means maybe yes.’
‘Yeah, but what are the chances?’ grinned Luke.
There was a huge splashing sound and both Luke and Toby jumped out of their skins. Filth and Fang leapt up and began yapping excitedly at the river.
‘What was that?’ Toby ran to Luke and threw his arms around his waist.
‘It’s my line!’ gasped Luke. ‘It must be huge.’
‘You caught a croc, Dingo Luke!’ screamed Toby, backing away from the water.
‘A croc?’
The taut, jerking line was nearly snapping the branch off the tree. Fang hurled himself into the river with a mighty growl and disappeared under the surface, reappearing a few seconds later. He shook the water out of his ears and began growling and yapping again, swimming in circles.
‘Fang! Get out of there, you idiot!’ yelled Luke.
Whatever it was, it was the size of a large dog, maybe even a small horse. A croc?
Luke wasn’t taking any chances. He ran away from the river and caught up with Toby. Filth ran at his heels, barking and yapping like mad.
‘Do you really reckon it’s a croc?’ Luke stared in vain through the trees. ‘Hope Fang hasn’t been eaten!’
Toby clamped his arms around Luke’s waist again and peered around from behind him. ‘See it rolling?’ he whispered. ‘That’s its death roll. It wants to take you under the water and roll you around until your arms fall off. Then he wants to ram you under a rock until you rot and then he can eat your guts out!’
‘Whoa,’ said Luke.
‘Let’s camp up in the hills,’ whispered Toby.
‘What about all our food and the swag?’
‘You go an’ get them.’
‘Are crocs scared of fire?’
‘Yeah, yeah, you’ll be right,’ said Toby, loosening his grip on Luke’s waist. ‘Just go real quiet. I’ll wait here and look after the pup.’
The monster in the river kept jerking and thrashing about in the water, sending waves a metre high all around it and bending the tree branch to snapping point.
‘Reckon we really need our stuff?’ asked Luke. ‘That thing looks real angry to me.’
A wave of light arced over the river and the sound of tyres over gravel rolled up behind them.
‘Quick, quick, it’s the cops!’ squeaked Toby, jumping up and down. ‘We got to run to the hills!’ He tugged urgently at Luke’s arm. Fang shot out of the water and together the two pups began barking at the car with puppyish fury.
Luke squinted into the headlights. He could see no sirens or aerials. The car had low-set round lights, like those on an HQ ute.
‘It’s Bob!’ yelled Luke. ‘Bob!’ He waved his arms euphorically and scruffed Toby on the head. ‘It’s okay, Toby. It’s a mate of mine!’
Toby went quiet and slid behind Luke, without letting go of his waist. Luke walked over to the car, dragging the boy behind him. ‘I thought you knew Bob Stockman?’
‘Bob Stockman,’ whispered Toby. ‘Who’s that?’
‘You know, Paulie and Frank and all that mob,’ said Luke, twisting around and trying to detach the boy’s arms. ‘One-eyed Willy!’
‘A one-eyed what?’
Luke just shook his head. When he reached the driver’s side window, he realised there was another car pulling up behind.
‘Tyson!’ yelled Luke. ‘Quick, we caught a big croc! It’s tied to a tree!’
The second car came to a stop and Luke watched a big springy-haired silhouette step out.
&nbs
p; ‘What’s that?’ Tyson asked.
‘We caught a crocodile. It’s in the water, tied to a tree!’
‘What are you talking about?’ said Tyson, pushing past Luke and walking down to the river. Bob rolled his ute down onto the causeway and shone the headlights on the splashes that were still erupting from the river. Something silvery flapped in the light.
Tyson turned to Luke. ‘What did you say it was?’
‘Ummm,’ said Luke, gingerly taking a few steps closer. ‘We weren’t exactly sure.’
Tyson waded into the water and seized the line. He pulled a knife from his back pocket, cut the line from the tree, and began hauling a huge ugly fish towards the bank.
‘Geez, give me a hand, Luke,’ he grunted, the line winding tightly around his hands. ‘Grab a big thick stick!’
Luke pounced on a thick branch and waded through the river to Tyson.
‘Wrap the line round it,’ said Tyson, grimacing.
Luke began winding the stick around and around the line until it was well and truly secured. Then Tyson unwound his hand and shook it out, cursing under his breath. ‘You bring her in, big fulla,’ he said to Luke. ‘She’s all yours.’
Luke hung onto the wood with his one good hand; his broken arm had no strength at all. He staggered backwards into the knee-deep water. The fish yanked at his arm, lunging from side to side. ‘Come and help me, Toby,’ he yelled, planting his feet into a pile of pebbles. ‘It’s your fish too!’
Toby needed no second invitation. He leapt into the water and, with his arms over the top of Luke’s, began tugging at the fish, hauling it up and over the riverbank until it lay flapping on the dirt, with Fang and Filth darting back and forth and snapping at it.
‘Where’d the wolves come from?’ asked Bob.
‘Mate, that is without a doubt the biggest barra I ever saw in my life!’ said Tyson, dripping wet, his hands on his hips. ‘That is one big mother of a barramundi.’
Luke stood proudly looking at his catch, the line still in his hand.
Luke Matheson. Man of steel. Big hunter!
‘She’s a big breeder. You gonna keep her or let her go?’ asked Bob, staring down at the fish with his hands in his pockets.
‘Up to you, Luke,’ said Tyson.
‘We got anything else to eat?’ asked Luke.
‘Dry crackers,’ said Tyson.
‘Let’s eat it, let’s eat it!’ sang Toby, suddenly getting over his shyness. ‘It’s my fish too. Let’s eat it!’
Tyson grinned. ‘I was hoping you’d say that.’
He showed the boys how to bleed, gut and scale the fish, and then they built the fire up until they had plenty of hot ashes.
‘So where’ve you been?’ Luke asked Bob as they mounded the coals up over the fish.
Bob and Tyson looked at each other with sheepish grins.
‘Helping the coppers. They’ve been asking after you,’ said Bob.
‘Been driving around all day, looking for you,’ said Tyson.
‘Yeah, everywhere: Burketown, Normanton, Karumba,’ chuckled Bob. ‘It was a lovely drive.’
The two men began giggling like a pair of schoolgirls. ‘Them coppers gave us nice pub meals for helping ’em, too. Too bad we couldn’t find you, ay.’
‘Not till the end of the day, anyway,’ said Tyson. ‘We told the coppers you wouldn’t be at the draft, but they wouldn’t listen. More we told ’em not to, the more they wanted to go there. Didn’t you see us in the back of the cop car? The grey nurse was goin’ off her rocker.’
‘That was some fancy riding you did, kid,’ said Bob to Toby. ‘Jumping over the big fence like that and rescuing Luke.’
Toby smiled shyly. ‘I won the kids’ draft, too. I got a trophy.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ said Tyson. ‘Where’d you learn to ride like that?’
‘We told your dad where you’d be,’ Bob said. ‘He’s just taking the horses home, then he’s gonna meet us down here.’
The huge barramundi fed all of them, plus the dogs. Pete joined them just as Luke and Toby pulled it out of the coals. ‘Look what we caught, Dad!’ Toby yelled to him. ‘Come and look. Me and Dingo Luke pulled it in! He’s heaps better at fishing than you, Dad!’
Pete roughed his son’s hair good-naturedly. ‘That’s cos he’s got more eyes than me, boy!’
They sat cross-legged in the glow of the fire, shadows cast over their faces, laughing and swapping stories as they recalled the day’s adventures, eating juicy chunks of the huge fish steaming in the crumpled silver foil.
Pete told Luke that he had tried to collect the winnings, but the secretary wouldn’t hand them over. He had paid the contractor for the brumbies with his own money. The man thought Luke had skipped out on him and sold them to Pete for a fifty. Luke was overjoyed – although now that he ‘owned’ them, he knew he’d spend the entire night agonising over what to do with them. ‘I promise I’ll pay you back,’ he told Pete.
As they ran out of stories and settled to watching the fire in contented silence, Tyson moved over and sat by Luke. ‘So, what are you gonna do now, Luke? You gonna live up here on the river your whole life?’
‘Or are you gonna go back home and give Lawson a chance?’ put in Bob.
Luke took a while to answer. He needed to know something first. Looking directly at Bob, he asked, ‘Did he send you after me? When you found me at the truckstop that morning, did Lawson send you?’
Bob paused before answering. ‘Course he did,’ he said softly.
And with those few small words, Luke felt an immense pulling in his gut, like nothing he’d ever felt before: for his people, for his river, for the huge coachwood trees and the grassy flats that snaked alongside them, linking all the properties and people together like a long green highway. Lawson, Annie, the smell of fresh pine shavings in the stables. It was where Luke belonged and he suddenly ached for it.
He wanted to run his hands up Legsy’s neck and scratch him between the ears. He wanted to eat Sunday breakfasts on the verandah. He wanted to rumble with Tom. And he wanted an apprenticeship, a job. He knew more than anything that he wanted to be a farrier.
That’s what he needed, he realised: a good job, a good horse, and a good strong mob. He’d worked it out. He remembered Harry: what he wouldn’t give to hear his rusty old voice and his boots shuffling down the stable aisle.
And he thought of Jess. He wasn’t going to wait until he just ran into her at some horse event. They had something worth sharing. Something that connected them.
The way you have with these horses. You’ve got dream there, you and this Jess girl.
Somehow, he knew, she was a part of the equation.
Early the next morning, Toby and Tyson went looking for turtles. They came back with three long-necks and buried them on their backs in the hot coals and ash. Half an hour later, Tyson pulled off the breastplates and scooped out the meat. Luke tried some. It was unusual, and not at all like chicken as he had been told.
‘I want to go and get those brumbies,’ Luke said, as he sat next to Bob.
‘What are you gonna do with a mob of wild horses?’ asked Bob.
‘I just want to let them go. Otherwise they’ll go to the knackery. I can’t just leave them there.’
‘They’ll only be rounded back up. Word is there’ll be another big cull soon. Their numbers are getting too big again.’
‘A cull?’
‘They’ll be heli-mustered, transported for days, train, then truck. They’ll be killed for human consumption. Closest abattoir licenced for human-consumption horses is Caboolture – days away. They don’t travel well, the wild ones. Better off letting ’em go to the local knackery, I reckon.’
Luke’s heart sank. ‘Yeah, you’re right,’ he admitted. ‘What am I gonna do with a mob of wild horses? I don’t even know if I have a home to go to.’
‘You better go find out, ay,’ suggested Bob.
23
‘LAWSON.’
There was
silence on the other end of the phone.
‘It’s Luke.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Up in the Gulf.’
‘What do you want?’
Luke was tempted to slam the phone straight back down into the receiver, but he sucked it up. ‘I want a job.’
There was silence again. Luke tried to imagine Lawson’s face.
‘Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have rung.’ Luke pulled the phone from his ear and had it halfway to the cradle when he heard Lawson speak. ‘Wait.’
The phone made muffled noises as Lawson covered the receiver. He spoke to someone else and excused himself. Then his voice became clear again. ‘What?’
‘A job,’ said Luke. ‘I want a job.’
He heard Lawson exhale into the phone.
Further down the road, Sister Suzie’s white four-wheel drive turned in to the hospital grounds. Toby popped out from behind some bushes and pointed urgently at the vehicle.
Luke nodded at him. He kept his head down and tried to look inconspicuous. Pete’s football jersey was good camouflage. They were all football-mad around here – didn’t seem to matter what team or code.
‘What sort of job you after?’ asked Lawson, sounding cautious.
‘I want to be a farrier.’
Again, Lawson didn’t answer.
There was a noisy clatter as a handful of stones hit the glass wall of the phone booth. Luke looked up just in time to see a cop walking to his car. It figured that the only phone booth in town had to be right outside the police station.
‘Sorry about . . . you know, hitting you,’ said Luke. ‘I was out of line.’
‘Yeah, I didn’t expect that from you,’ said Lawson.
‘I didn’t expect it either. I was out of control.’
‘I was so determined not to fight with Ryan and then you bloody hit me.’
This wasn’t going to be a quick kiss-and-make-up, Luke could tell. ‘Sorry,’ he repeated.
‘That was my father’s funeral,’ said Lawson, sounding angry, ‘his wake.’
Luke’s face burned with shame. ‘I’m sorry.’ It sounded woefully inadequate, but he didn’t know what else to say.