Everybody Jam

by Ali Lewis

  I don’t think anyone I know ever asked Reg about it, but the story went that he drove Gibson and the driver’s body back to Alice. The corpse in the front, wrapped in Reg’s blanket, while Gibson was tied up in the back of the ute. Reg dropped the road-train driver off at the funeral home and then took Gibson to the police station. Greg told me Reg dragged Gibson out of his ute and then quietly beat the crap out of him in the street. Greg reckoned the cops turned a blind eye.

  I don’t think Liz knew what to say then. Her face turned, like she’d tasted meat. I thought I’d better change the subject, so I told her what I knew about the rest of Reg’s mob. The Barron brothers, Ed and Spike, had come from South Australia to find work after their father’s cattle station went bust. They were new, but Reg told Dad he was impressed with them. Then there was Rick Smith. He was a very quiet man. He’d been in prison, I dunno what for, but he was Reg’s mate’s mate, so he was OK. I guess Rick must have been useful or Reg wouldn’t have kept him.

  As well as Reg’s mob we usually hired in one or two Blackfellas to help too. On a cattle station as big as ours, it was always good to have a few extra people on the ground, just to help with anything that came up. But Dad said we couldn’t afford it this year. I guess it was because we had to pay the Pommie and with the baby coming too. I’d heard Mum say babies cost an arm and a leg. I didn’t say that to the Pommie though. I just told her Dad reckoned we’d be able to manage this time just with our fellas and Reg’s.

  We’d finished feeding the animals and were on our way back to the house so the Pommie could make our breakfasts. As we walked along I told her how at each water hole on the station, the fellas would set up the yards, using these real big fence panels. That’s heavy work, hot and a bit boring. But then you get to do the actual muster – that’s when you go out in the utes and bull catchers and round up the cattle. That’s when the fun starts. Driving across the desert, taking a big mob back to the yards. It’s the best.

  When we got back to the house, Dad was there and he reckoned we could all skip school and go mustering – everyone except Sissy. She was too pregnant to muster. Man, I was so stoked I threw my hat in the air and whooped like a madman.

  Dad tipped his hat back a bit, looked at me and smiled. I said I didn’t want to muster with the girls, I was sick of being with the girls all the time. He laughed and said he reckoned there’d come a time when I’d feel differently about that. I got worried then, I thought he was going to make me go with them, but he said the girls could all ride with him in his ute. Elliot said I could be his co-driver if I wanted, I nodded and we all ran out to get in the utes to head to Jaben Point. We always started the muster at Jaben Point, then we moved to Wild Ridge, then Simpson’s Dam, before heading over to Cockatoo Creek, Gum Tree Creek, and last of all Timber Creek.

  When we got to Jaben Point, Reg was waiting for us. He rubbed his hand in my hair and called me the camel man. I liked the sound of that. He said I could ride with him in his bull catcher! I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t know what to say. I just nodded. I was totally stoked. I looked at Elliot, to see if he’d mind if I went with Reg instead and I could tell he understood. I couldn’t stop smiling. Reg’s bull catcher was a lot better than Elliot’s old ute.

  Lloyd was going to be on one of our motorbikes, and so was Ed Barron. Jack and Rick were in another bull catcher and Spike Barron was in a ute. We got in the vehicles and left the yards like Wacky Racers in convoy. Reg gave the signal and he and Dad led us into the desert. There were some deep ravines in the earth around the Soak, that’s what we call the water hole out there, so we had to be careful. We couldn’t just look at the cattle we were chasing, we had to keep a real close eye on what was around us. Reg revved the bull catcher and we shot forward into the desert.

  The team fanned out from the yards all heading south, to see what that part of the desert was hiding from us. Reg grinned at me as we bounced through the grass and dirt. ‘Here we go, Danny!’ he shouted. I was so happy. I couldn’t wait to find some cattle. We ran into a handful nearly straight away. They were scared of the sound of the engine and started running. Reg swung the bull catcher round the side of them to herd them back towards the yards. As we came in a loop we met Ed Barron on his motorbike, so he spun round and took our cattle with him. That left us free to go into the desert again and find more.

  When we set off this time, we went in a different direction. Reg’s hands frantically turned the wheel and we double backed. We’d only been going for a second or two when Reg had to slam his brakes on. Four wild horses came from nowhere, their hooves like engine pistons against the track in front of us. ‘Jesus!’ Reg shouted and hit the steering wheel. We all hated the wild horses. They were a damned nuisance when we were mustering. If they got caught up in the muster and ended up in the yards with the cattle, they could start kicking and break the fences. That was the worst. It was like getting a crack in a hose – the cattle would run out back into the desert and we’d have lost them and a day’s work.

  The horses ran by so fast, their scraggy manes and tails reminded me of tattered sails. They’d gone as soon as they arrived, so I wasn’t sure if I’d really seen them.

  We set off again and this time we mustered a good few cattle. We uprooted one cow and then we found another, which ran with it to try to get away from us. Round another bush there were three more, until we had a small herd. As we brought them back towards the yards we saw Dad and Jack bringing a real big mob in, so we joined them in what Reg called a nice little pincer movement.

  That big mob of cattle ran along like a dark cloud. It moved like weather, rolling along the earth with its own energy. We followed it. We were travelling slower than before. It was hot and once we had a mob together like that, we didn’t want to stress them any more than we already had by making them run even faster.

  Once we got them to the yard, Spike Barron was waiting to open the gate. The cattle were too scared of us to realise it was a trap. As soon as the last one went through, Spike swung one gate shut and then Rick jumped out to close the other one.

  ‘Nice work, fellas. Over.’ Dad’s voice echoed from the radio in Reg’s bull catcher. Reg picked it up and replied, ‘A good mob there, Derek. Over and out.’

  We all knew there were more to muster, so we didn’t stop. We headed north of the yards and found Elliot with a small mob of cows and calves jogging along, tired and afraid. Reg said they looked like a sorry bunch of refugees. I didn’t know what that meant, but those cattle looked perished.

  We carried on like that all day, going out into the desert and bringing more and more cattle back to the yards, until it was nearly dark and it was too dangerous to muster any more. The fellas agreed to leave the cattle in the yards overnight so they could cool off a bit. There were one or two crazed cattle. They’d gone mad because they hadn’t had enough water. When they got like that they could be real angry, but Dad said it was because they weren’t in their right minds. Dad hoped that if we left them in the yard with the troughs of water they might have a drink and calm down overnight, so they’d be easier to draft and truck the next day. Reg agreed.

  At breakfast the next day, Dad was at home and said he wanted me to go with the Pommie to Jaben Point to help draft the cattle. He reckoned there was a good mob over there, pretty healthy too. He said I had to go to school that morning, but afterwards he wanted Liz to take them some lunch. He said the two of us could stay and help take down the cattle numbers as they were trucked. That’s a real boring job, but I was still stoked. I was going to be out with the fellas again – I felt like jumping up and down. Emily said she wanted to go to Jaben Point too. Dad smiled and said she could go as long as she promised to stay out of the way and not cause any trouble. Emily swore on Charlotte’s life – that was her favourite poddie calf – that she’d behave herself.

  When our lessons were finished, I ran out of the school room into the hot yard. It felt good, like nothing mattered except cattle and water. Liz had lunch ready and we
all bundled into Bobbie’s ute.

  When we reached the top of the rise at Jaben Point looking down on the yards, we all breathed in, like we were about to dive into deep water. The yards were bursting with hundreds of cattle. The Pommie couldn’t believe it. As we drew closer her mouth fell open at the sight of all the cattle, the size of the spread and the amount of dust that had climbed into the air. When we stopped, Dad waved over at us. He was sweating and dirty. The Pommie was so busy staring at the cattle, that it was left to Bobbie to set out lunch for the fellas under the shade of a gumtree. The food drew everyone in like a magnet but Liz was in some kind of daze.

  While Dad and our fellas got stuck into the food, Reg and his mob brought their tucker over to the tree too. We all sat round, quietly eating and trying to hide from the sun and the flies. I heard Dad say the cattle at Jaben Point were good, pretty healthy and lots of them. He was pleased with how it was going. I could tell.

  While Dad ate and chatted with Reg, the Pommie came over to get herself some lunch. With so many people and cattle in one place, the flies were having their own muster. We all smiled when we saw Liz fighting a losing battle to keep them off herself and the food. She twitched and slapped the air like someone had connected her up to a faulty circuit. Bobbie felt sorry for her, so she got up and went to help. Between them, they managed to cover the food and put it back in the ute. When they came back Bobbie said, ‘If anyone wants a sausage-surprise sandwich, just help yourselves.’ Reg liked that, he said, ‘What’s the surprise? It wouldn’t be the outback raisin, would it?’ Bobbie laughed. Lloyd got up and helped himself to more food. The Pommie’s face crinkled like paper when he bit into a sandwich before he’d even checked to see if anything had crawled inside it.

  It was then that the rumbling started and we all looked up to the top of the Point where we saw a truck dragging wagons and a cloud of dust behind it. Its horn belched a greeting at us, and for no reason at all I jumped up and down and waved my hat around like we’d won a competition on TV. Dad was on his feet then and looked at me funny, like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh at me or flog me. So I stopped, put my hat back on and smiled at him. I reckon he was just as excited. He pretended to give me a dead arm and said, ‘Here we go, Danny.’

  Seventeen

  I looked round and Liz was there, smiling too. Even though she didn’t know what it all meant, I thought it was kind of nice of her to try and join in.

  We watched the road-train driver, this real nice guy called Bob, manoeuvre the wagons into position at the far end of the yards. He looked like a multicoloured bear. His beard was really big and it was dyed blue. Then he’d got this long, curly hair on his head, which was so thick, it was a bit like black fleece. His arms were covered in tattoos of everything from spiders’ webs and goblins, to naked women and pictures of VB beer.

  As Bob slotted the trailers into the right place, Jack Black wandered out of the heat like a scorpion. Seeing the Pommie, Bobbie and Emily there, Jack pointed at them with his chin and said, ‘What’s this? Reinforcements?’

  Reg laughed and explained who everyone was. Jack remembered Bobbie from the last muster, but he’d never met the Pommie before, so he tipped his hat at her – polite. She smiled back. Jack looked at the sky and said, ‘Too hot.’ Reg nodded and everyone knew it was time to get down to business.

  The Pommie didn’t know how the drafting worked. I explained that after we’d mustered the cattle into the yards, drafting was what we called it when we decided which ones we wanted to truck – in other words send to the slaughterhouse – and the ones we wanted to keep, which meant they went back out into the desert.

  It was a pretty dangerous job, in some ways. If you didn’t pay attention you could get into all sorts of trouble, but we worked as a team and that meant we did our own jobs and kept an eye out for everyone else, to make sure it went smoothly.

  It was simple really. It started with a sliding gate, which moved up and down like a guillotine, at the far end of the yard. That was where Ed Barron was working. He sat on top of the fence like a great big jabiru waiting for Reg to give him the signal to lift the gate up and let a handful of cattle out of the main yard into the smaller one. That was where Reg was waiting for them.

  The cattle were happy to get out of the main yard, so they rushed through that gate as soon as it was open, thinking they were going back to the desert. Each time Ed opened the gate, he had to be careful not to let too many cattle through at a time – that would be dangerous for Reg on the other side.

  Once they were in the next, smaller yard, Reg would walk round them like a ringmaster. He did that to get a good look, so he could decide which ones to turn loose, and which ones to truck. The Pommie reckoned Reg was like a cattle god. I dunno about that, but it was pretty amazing to see him work. The cattle could charge you, try to stab you with their horns or just crush you against the fence panels. They were pissed off and scared – you couldn’t blame them really. Because of that, Reg needed eyes in the back of his head. He was clever with cattle. It was like he could read their minds.

  I was watching Reg work that yard. One minute he was busy walking round and round, deciding which cow to pick out for trucking, and the next he leaped up at the fence, with more bounce than a big red. When I looked I saw he’d just missed having his leg stabbed by a Hereford’s horns. No one else had seen it coming, not even Dad. Reg was real fit and strong. He held his cattle prod like a musketeer’s sword and when he made a run and jump for the fence, he held it high in the air.

  The first one Reg picked out for trucking was a young Hereford bull. He separated it from the others with his cattle prod and herded it towards another gate where Dad was waiting. Once the bull was near the gate, Dad slid the metal panel up to let it through. The sound of metal scraping on metal didn’t stop that bull. It ran straight past those weird sounds into the narrow race, towards the road train. The bull’s horns were too wide for the race though, so they hammered against the metal fence panels as he ran through. It was a horrid sound. It made the Pommie wince, but it was nothing compared to the face she pulled later when a cow got scared and ran so fast down the race that it knocked a horn clean off. When the Pommie looked down and saw that old bit of horn, like a bloody ice-cream cone, I thought she was going to puke. I kicked it away and she pretended not to notice, like she was thinking about something far away, out into the desert.

  A bit further down the race from Dad, Jack was waiting at the next gate. That one was usually kept open, but it was there for safety, so if there was a problem, Jack could shut it, and stop too many cattle going through to the road train.

  I was working in the section of the race after Jack’s gate, with Elliot. We had to tag each of the cattle before they were trucked. Elliot straddled the top of the race and leaned down to tag the cows with sticky labels as they came through. He shouted out each number and I wrote it down. Those bits of paper went with the cattle to the slaughter house. Next to each number I wrote a description, like Hereford bull. That way, everything was in order. Once we’d tagged each one, Elliot opened our gate and let them through to the next section, where Rick was waiting for them. His job was to make sure they went up the metal gangway onto the road train without any problems. Bob, the driver, was waiting on the trailer to load the cattle. He was a real nice guy, but I thought the cattle might look at him with all his tattoos and be even more scared.

  After Reg had picked out the cattle to be trucked, he herded the ones that were left into another yard where Lloyd and Spike were working. It had troughs of water in it, so the cattle could have a drink and calm down, before we let them back into the desert. If Dad thought any of the cattle in there needed castrating or branding, he let Lloyd and Spike know and they’d sort it out – that was their job.

  The noise from the cattle braying, the sound of their hooves on the metal gangway up to the trailer and the hammering of their horns on the fence panels, was deafening. At times it felt so loud that it made the ground shake. I
could feel it in my chest. Above all that noise we had to make ourselves heard: Elliot had to make sure I could hear each cow’s tag number; Reg had to tell Ed when to let the next lot of cattle into the yard; Bob had to let Rick know when to let the next one onto the trailer. It was like we were all working inside a machine – an engine, ticking over nicely, so it wouldn’t overheat.

  We’d settled into our rhythm pretty well. Everything was going OK until I heard hooves kicking against the inside of the trailer like a jungle drum. Then there was shouting and we all stopped what we were doing and looked. Rick and Bob were struggling with a stubborn bull inside. It was so hot, I could feel the sweat trickling down my neck into the small of my back.

  Jack shouted, Wo! Wo! Wo! So we all knew not to let any more through to the road train. But then a heifer ran so fast down the race to get away from Reg in the yard, it had run into an older cow in front. The younger one piggybacked the cow until it collapsed.

  There was nothing Jack could do. He couldn’t let his cattle through into our section because we already had two cows waiting to go through onto the trailer. We couldn’t let them go because that would be real dangerous for the fellas inside the trailer. I felt sick. Jack looked back and forth at the squashed cow and the stupid heifer on top. Seeing the stress on the cow’s face, as it heaved under the weight of the other one, he used his prod to try to get the heifer off her. The cattle couldn’t turn round in the race, it was too narrow. You could sometimes get them to back up, but it wasn’t easy. I could hear Jack muttering under his breath. He looked worried.