Everybody Jam

by Ali Lewis

  Reg had the measure of things and had jumped out of the yard and was running past the race towards the truck. He jumped over the fence and ran into the trailer as the drumming inside got louder.

  No one spoke. We waited, and listened to the bucking bronco inside the trailer and the odd call from Rick to Bob and back again. The cattle held in the race were all quiet except for the two in Jack’s section. The bottom one was making a kind of rasping sound as it gasped for air under the weight of the heifer. The heifer seemed to be screaming. Dumb animal – it didn’t have anything to scream about. It was the other one that was being crushed. I looked back at the trailer and said, ‘Come on, fellas,’ under my breath, hoping they’d sort it out so we could let the others go and free the crushed one in Jack’s section. I looked over at the Pommie and Emily. Emily was standing, staring at the road train and the Pommie was staring at the cattle in Jack’s section. She was kind of biting her lip, like she wasn’t sure about something.

  We all stood still, adjusting our hats and wiping away the sweat from our foreheads. Then the drumming inside the trailer stopped and Reg appeared with Rick. Reg gave Elliot a thumbs up to let the next one through. He looked a little redder than he had when he went into the trailer – but that was all.

  The two cows in Jack’s section of the race were a bit like tired old boxers by then. Too exhausted to spar with each other. We let the ones we’d tagged go through to Rick and Bob to be loaded onto the trailer. Once they’d gone we shut the gate and Jack opened his. The heifer scrambled forward, digging her hooves into the other one’s back. Once she’d come through to our section, Jack shut the gate again. Reg bent down next to him like you do when you’re looking under a ute. He wanted to find out why the older cow was refusing to budge.

  Once we’d tagged the flighty heifer and let her go through to the truck, Jack opened his gate again, to try to persuade the cow to get up. Both he and Reg used their prods to try and startle her into action. They gave her a quick poke in the rump, but she looked lifeless, except for this slow panting noise she’d started to make. Reg looked at Dad. He grimaced and said, ‘I don’t like the look of this one, Derek.’ Dad jumped down off the fence and came round the side to take a closer look. He shook his head and Jack closed his gate again.

  They unhitched the part of the fencing that the cow was leaning against, while Elliot went to get a bull catcher. Dad walked to his ute. He moved like he meant it. When Jack tried to lift the fence panel away, scraping it through the dirt, the cow’s body followed until she’d slumped onto her side. One of her hind legs, wonky and broken, flopped out from under her. We all winced at that. ‘Jesus,’ Reg said, under his breath.

  Dad came back with his gun. He loaded the rifle and in one movement he raised it to his shoulder, took aim and fired at the cow’s head. There was a moment’s silence after the gunshot, like we’d got the whole desert’s attention. The cow’s body finally relaxed and became still. Jack bent down to examine her broken hind leg. He held it in his big hands. His fingers were so thick with calluses, it looked like he was wearing gloves. He rubbed his hands up and down the thin skin that covered the broken bones; touching it real carefully, like a doctor who didn’t want to hurt a patient. He was looking down at the cow, so all I could see was the top of his wide hat, which shook from side to side like a wagging tail. ‘That’s bad,’ he said quietly.

  Elliot put a chain round the cow and Emily jumped down from the back of the ute where she’d been sitting with Bobbie. Seeing her suddenly at his side, it was like Dad’s anger at losing a cow had dried up. ‘You surfing, Em?’ he asked, and she smiled that big, stupid grin she uses when she wants something. As Elliot waited with the bull-catcher’s engine running, Emily climbed onto the dead-cow’s body, leaving dusty orange boot prints on its fur. She found her balance on the cow’s round belly and waved at Elliot to let him know she was ready. As he set off, she stretched her arms out and pretended to surf. Her face looked real serious, a bit like the look she had when I tried to teach her how to tie her shoelaces. As Elliot dragged the cow slowly away it swept a sad-looking mark into the desert.

  Emily hadn’t done much cow surfing before – she was just learning. She hadn’t got the hang of it properly, so when she didn’t bend her knees enough, her arms swung upwards. She did her best to stay balanced, but then her boots began to slide on the cow’s short fur. As she fell, her head went backwards into the cow’s mound of a belly and it knocked her hat forward so she couldn’t see. Then she slipped into the dirt with a jolt as the cow continued on the dust wave without her. I shut my eyes and waited for her to start to blub like the other times, but she didn’t cry. She lay on the ground laughing. Dad went to pick her up and hoisted her onto his shoulders, like a champion, even though she’d fallen off.

  Everyone forgot about the dead cow then, except for the Pommie. She was just stood there, staring, as it disappeared into the spinifex. Her mouth was turned down, like she’d smelled something rotten.

  Eighteen

  The next morning I got up early again. I couldn’t stop thinking about the muster. I was real excited. I felt good – I had no idea it was going to be the second worst day of my life. I went straight out to see Buzz – to take him for his walk just in case I didn’t get a chance after school. I was hoping I’d be able to go out with the fellas. On my way back to the house, I saw the Pommie. She smiled at me, waved and asked if I was going mustering again with the fellas. I shrugged and said I reckoned I would after school. We walked back to the house together.

  I was busy telling her how it was easiest to use a winch on one of the bull catchers to drag a dead cow out of the races, when she stopped and squinted like she was trying to read a real long word, far away. I looked towards the house, following her gaze. There was a fella climbing out of Sissy’s bedroom window. The sun poked its head up, like it had just spotted him too. Its rays caught against the fella’s golden hair as he landed on the ground and started to walk away.

  The Pommie nudged me, to see if I’d seen him, so I just said, ‘Gil Smith.’

  She looked at me like I was crazy. ‘But he’s blond,’ she eventually said. My mind flicked back to the day in the shop when he’d come to the station with Mick and Davy and I remembered the hat he’d been wearing. I guess the Pommie hadn’t noticed his hair because of it. I couldn’t be bothered to explain to her that Blackfellas sometimes had fair-haired kids – my mind was too busy remembering that day in the shop and how Gil kept looking outside, like he was hoping to see something – or someone. It must have been Sissy he was looking for – that’s why he’d come to the shop with Mick and Davy. I swallowed hard as I realised Sissy had been rooting with Gil Smith – a gin! It felt like someone had punched me in the belly. I didn’t know if it meant Sissy was a gin-jockey or not – we usually just called fellas that. My mouth fell open. It was dry. The Pommie looked at me and tugged on my arm, she said, ‘It might not be what you think.’ But I knew. I felt like kicking Sissy’s big belly.

  Gil was a couple of years older than her. He was Jonny’s mate, or used to be. Jonny wouldn’t have been mates with him any more, not if he knew he was rooting with Sissy. No way. My mind raced and I remembered Gil being at the station a few times at Christmas when Sissy was home for the holidays.

  The Pommie put her hand on my shoulder, but I didn’t want her or anyone near me. I sat down in the grass for a moment, like I needed to catch my breath. She stood quietly next to me for a bit, and then said, ‘What difference does it make? Really?’

  I dunno if I was annoyed with her for asking such a stupid question, angry with myself for not realising it was Gil’s baby sooner, or just mad with Sissy. Anyway, I didn’t let the Pommie finish. I got up and walked towards the house. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I felt like I wanted to puke. I reckoned that when Dad found out he’d kill her – and Gil.

  The house had started to stretch and yawn, the dunny flushed and the early sun streamed through the glass doors in the dining ro
om as I touched the sides of Jonny’s picture. His smile made me want to scream. The Pommie followed me inside the house. I wanted to shout and trash things. Sissy had ruined everything. She’d wrecked the muster – my last muster – before it had even started and she’d wrecked everything else too. I felt like we were all going to be in trouble because of her belly. The Pommie took me by the arm and pulled me into the kitchen. Her voice was like a loud whisper, ‘Danny, you can’t say anything – it’s not your secret. If Sissy wants to see Gil, it’s nothing to do with you.’

  Elliot came in then and said, ‘G’day, musterers,’ as he tipped his hat. The Pommie stopped talking. She looked like she was the one who’d been caught rooting with a gin. My smile was so stuck on, I thought it was going to slip off my face. Luckily Elliot was too busy jabbering on about the muster to notice.

  All morning all I could think about was Gil Smith. I couldn’t get it out of my head. I guess it was the same for the Pommie because at smoko I caught her looking at me with this real serious face. I wished she’d rack off.

  The fellas were out with Reg’s mob all day, taking down the yards at Jaben Point. After school I knew I’d explode if I had to stay in the house with my gin-jockey sister, so I took the Old Rover and went straight down to the yards to help the fellas – I didn’t even ask if I could leave the dinner table. Bobbie yelled something after me, and I yelled back that I was going to Jaben Point, just so they knew where I was.

  It was no fun at the yards though. I couldn’t stop thinking about Sissy and Gil. Lifting fence panels isn’t exactly exciting work. My brain felt dead by the end of it. I was glad when Dad said the light was fading so we’d call it a day. He and the fellas were going to stay out at Jaben Point with Reg and his mob, so they could get a good start in the morning. I said I wanted to stay too, but he shook his head. Reckoned I had to go to school in the morning because he didn’t want me being the class dunce when I started boarding school. I guess he knew I’d be disappointed, so he said I could go and help them after school. I asked if I could camp with them then – he said he’d think about it. I didn’t want to rock the boat and ruin my chances of staying at stock camp, so I did as I was told. He said I had to radio when I got back to the house, so he knew I’d got home OK. Like I was a little kid.

  On the way back to the station, I thought about Buzz and what I wanted him to be able to do. As I pulled into the yard at the house, it was in-between day and night. Not dark enough to make your hands disappear in front of your face, but not light enough to stop me tripping over the calf feeder. I ran to the calf pen to see Buzz, but it wasn’t until I got there that I saw the gate was open. Man, I had a panic. There was only Charlotte there.

  The rest had gone.

  I kicked the empty calf feeder as I ran back and shouted for the others to help me find Buzz. Mum was home. When she heard me shouting she came out and saw Tough, Pod, Elaine and Archie in her garden, chewing the plants up, she got real mad – I could hear her shouting. Buzz wasn’t with them though. That’s when my chest really did feel tight. Like finding out about Sissy and Gil wasn’t bad enough, I’d gone and lost Buzz too.

  I tried to stay calm, to think about where Buzz might have gone. I had a couple of puffs on my inhaler and then ran into the house. It was getting darker, so I got a flashlight and went out to the back yard where I usually took Buzz for training. I kept calling out his name, over and over again, hoping I’d catch the glint of his eyes in the beam of light I was casting backwards and forward across the desert in front of me.

  I dunno how long I was out there for, scouring the desert, round and round the house in circles. It had gone quiet in the yard. I guess they’d caught all the poddies and put them back in their pen. After a while I could hear Bobbie and Liz shouting Buzz’s name too. Mum must have taken Emily inside for her bath.

  The spinifex felt sharp against my bare legs. I fell over a couple of times, and I could see in the torch light that I’d grazed both knees and had a nasty scratch down the back of my leg. I had to find Buzz.

  I heard a ute start. The engine got louder and then I saw its headlights on full, swinging into the desert in front of me. Bobbie shouted for me to get in.

  I ran through the darkness towards the ute. My torch light jumped over dust to bushes, to dust to spinifex, to dust again. I fell over. I wanted to cry. Not because I was hurt – I couldn’t feel anything anyway – just because I was scared. I wanted to find Buzz, to know he was OK. He’d never been out of the calf pen on his own before. I didn’t want the dingoes to get him and I didn’t know if he’d be able to find water on his own. I swore on Jonny’s grave that I’d spend time with Buzz every afternoon, if God would show me where he’d gone. I hadn’t thought about God for a while, not really. I didn’t think there was much point, after what happened to Jonny, but I guess I was desperate.

  I wiped my face as I got into the ute, I didn’t want Bobbie or the Pommie to see my wet eyes. We drove round and round and round that desert, going further and further away from the house. My stomach was churning, somewhere far down inside. Mum radioed to see if we’d found him. Dumb question. We’d have radioed if we had. She said dinner was ruined and we had to go back to the house. She said we were looking for a needle in a haystack, blindfolded.

  I told Bobbie that her and the Pommie could go back, but I wasn’t giving up. I had to find him. Bobbie didn’t argue with me. She drove in these real big loops back to the house, just in case we’d missed him. But then we were back in the yard and there was no sign of Buzz. I wondered out loud how Buzz and the poddies had got out of the calf pen. That’s when Bobbie said, ‘Sissy says she might have left the gate open by accident after she fed the poddies this afternoon.’

  Sissy – the stupid gin-jockey bitch! I ran to the house ready to belt her. I didn’t care about her big belly. I reckoned she’d have been too busy rooting with Gil to think about shutting the gate properly. I flew up the steps and flung the fly screen open so hard it smacked against the wall. I gave the door a shove and burst into the dining room. Everything was spinning. She was sat at the table with Mum and Dad, like a fat frog.

  ‘No sign?’ Dad asked. Mum had radioed him to come home too. I didn’t want to talk to him. I just went straight into it, shouting and screaming at Sissy. I threatened her with every bad word I could think of. Mum was there, but that didn’t stop me from swearing. I told Sissy she’d better find Buzz, or I would beat the crap out of her, smack her stupid face in, belt her good and proper – said I’d get a stick and flog her. Everyone was shouting. Dad was trying to get hold of me, then he’d forget about me and start to argue with Mum instead. Sissy just sat there, saying nothing. Not even sorry. That’s when I said, ‘I’m gonna kick your fucking gin-jockey belly.’

  It was like I’d fired a gun in the house.

  Everyone shut up while they had a think about what I’d said – including me. I guess Sissy realised then that I knew about her and Gil. Her eyes opened wide. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look as scared as she did. Mum just stood there with her mouth open. Dad tried to grab my arm, but missed. ‘You don’t EVER swear like that in front of your mother, Daniel!’

  I was confused then. I didn’t get it – why wasn’t he mad at Sissy for rooting with Gil? I looked at him and asked, ‘What?’ – like he’d gone mad. I guess he didn’t like the tone of my voice, or the look on my face, or something because he shouted, ‘Who do you think you’re talking to, you little mongrel!’

  I think I was walking backwards because he seemed to be moving, but he wasn’t getting any nearer. I saw his face twist and suddenly he started to move like he meant it. So I turned and ran. My boots skidded like glass on the floorboards as I dashed into Emily’s pink room and on to where the walls turned blue and it became Sissy’s bedroom. As I struggled to open the window wide enough for me to get through, I heard Dad’s boots heavy behind me. I jumped up and wriggled through the gap in the window. His big hands caught my right foot. I was dangling there, outsi
de the window, upside-down, like a doll. It all happened so quickly. I’m not sure if I wiggled my toes to make my foot slide out of my boot, or if gravity sucked me onto the ground. All I know is that I landed heavily on my shoulder. As I scrambled to look up behind me, I saw Dad’s furious face at the window. He was looking at my boot in his hand. Then he was gone and I knew he would come after me, so I ran – one boot on, one boot off.

  I just ran and ran and ran. It felt like one leg was longer than the other without my right boot on, but I kept going as fast as I could. Every right footstep landed on spiky stones and sharp grass. I hopped past the ammonia smell of the chooks. I heard feathers ruffling inside their house. I kept going. I jumped over fences, leaped over spinifex. I fell. I got up. The witchetty bushes scratched me and the grass whipped me. I felt the darkness against my face as I ran, and the dust against the white skin on my right ankle. I didn’t stop until I thought my chest was going to burst. I knew I was going to be in trouble if I didn’t slow down. I couldn’t feel my inhaler bouncing against my thigh. I touched my pocket where its blue-plastic hump should have been, but it wasn’t there, it must have fallen out when I jumped out of Sissy’s window. I didn’t feel angry any more. Just scared. I could hear the ute revving, wheels spinning and screeching. I knew then that I couldn’t go back. I was on my own. I slowed to a jog and made for the open desert.