Everybody Jam

by Ali Lewis

  Eventually, Dad said he was ready to go – and as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the phone rang. We all knew it’d be Mum. Bloody Sissy! I was scared she was going to tell him something that meant we’d have to stay at the station. I reckoned I was never going to get to stay at stock camp with Dad and the fellas. I looked at the photo of Jonny on the piano. I wanted to touch it. But then Dad hung up the phone, and I guess he could see I was waiting to hear what was going on because he said, ‘Still no news.’ Then Dad grabbed his hat and said, ‘Ready?’ I nodded, and so we went out into the yard, jumped into the ute and headed to Gum Tree.

  When we got there I could tell the fellas hadn’t been there too long. They hadn’t even got the fire going. They’d got their utes and bull catchers parked round in a sort of circle, with the truck with all their supplies in the middle. They were just dragging boxes out of the truck to make some tucker when we pulled up. We jumped out and got our stuff from the back. I watched Dad dump his rolled-up swag on the ground near the others, so I did the same. Although it was getting dark, there was still enough light for the fellas to see what they were doing to build the fire.

  Dad sent me to find some fire wood so I headed towards the thicker bush and started picking up any pieces I could find. When I got back with the first pile, Rick had already arranged some rocks on the ground to mark the place for the fire, and when he saw me with the pieces of wood stacked up in my arms, he said, ‘A few more loads like that should do it.’ When I got back with the third load, there was smoke billowing from the ground.

  Reg was busy cutting up some meat and throwing it into this real black, metal pot, while Lloyd and Elliot peeled some potatoes. It looked weird watching them do that – I don’t think I’d ever seen a fella doing kitchen work before. They chucked it all in together, and once the fire was going they put the pot on top of the flames and waited for it to cook. It was darker then, and so everyone came and sat round the fire to have a cuppa and a smoke while we waited for the tucker. In the red glow of the fire the fellas looked real feral. It looked like we were all in hell or something.

  I sat down next to Elliot. The fire felt real warm on my bare arms as I poked at it with a stick. It was a real moonlit night too. The night-time desert noises were all around us, as well as the sound of the cattle braying in the yards. Even though they were a sorry-looking bunch, they were still pretty noisy.

  Reg leaned forward to have a look inside the pot on the fire to see how his stew was coming along. I breathed in the stock-camp smells, and could almost taste the desert. I wanted to hold that breath in my chest for ever so I’d always remember what it was like out there. I wanted to make sure that when I was at boarding school and the muster happened the year after, I could close my eyes and kind of imagine I was there with Dad and the fellas, even if I was two-hundred miles away in Alice. Kind of like I did with Jonny’s picture.

  When Dad came back from checking the water pump he took a flask out of his bag and poured us both a cuppa. I didn’t really like tea normally, but there, with the fellas at stock camp, I guess I felt differently about that. It was hot and sweet, and the plastic cup felt good in my hands. I watched how Dad held his, without using the handle and copied him.

  After a while, Reg took out this real dirty piece of cloth and carefully lifted the pot off the fire with it. Rick passed over a pile of dented-metal plates as Reg said, ‘Grub’s up,’ to no one in particular. He spooned the tucker out onto the plates and passed me the first one. It tasted good. Reg reckoned we needed to get it down us while it was hot, to keep the cold off in the night. Even though it was real hot in the day, out there in the desert it got pretty nippy during the night. I knew that from when I ran away after Buzz went missing and how cold I’d felt when Mick had found me.

  While we ate the steaming-hot tucker, Reg and Rick talked about a muster they’d done at a station as far south in the Territory as you could go, and how even down there they’d had problems with water. Dad listened to what they said, finished his mouthful of the stew and said he reckoned it was a blip and that we’d weather the storm. Then he said he didn’t want to talk about the weather any more. He reckoned he’d had enough of it. He looked at his watch soon after that and said it was time to turn in and everyone started rolling out their swags. I lay on my side and tried to sleep. The stars were so bright, though, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Jonny and if he was up there somewhere, watching to see how I got on. I wanted to be the best stockman Timber Creek had ever had.

  I dunno what time it was, but after what felt like hours and hours I decided to get up and have a walk round the yards – just to make sure everything was as it should be. I could hear Reg snoring under his swag and the other fellas all seemed to be sleeping too. I looked at Dad’s swag, but he’d pulled it over his head, so I couldn’t see if he was awake or not. It was strange being out there with them. Even though I wasn’t on my own, I kind of felt more alone than ever before.

  As I walked round the yards, with the moon shining down, it felt like my eyes could see as well as they could during the day. I was keeping an eye out for dingoes. I had a couple of rocks in my pockets just in case. If they got into the yards and started terrorising the calves I would throw the rocks at them – I was a pretty good shot. I’d been practising. That’s when I caught a glimpse of something white in the yard.

  Twenty-seven

  At first I thought it was one of the wild horses and I was about to run back to the camp to get Jonny’s gun. But as the cattle moved around, there between all the other brown cows I saw Casper, the white Brahman bull.

  He’d been Jonny’s poddy, named after the friendly ghost because he was white and so tame. He’d grown into a strong-looking bull – muscly and wide. As the others moved around and carried on mooing, pissing and rearing up around him, Casper stayed still, his long ears floppy and friendly at the sides of his head. His eyes seemed almost black against his white hide as they watched me. He looked like an angel, or something. I turned and saw Dad and the other fellas in their swags on the ground. I didn’t want to frighten Casper away, so I didn’t shout to Dad to come and see who I’d found. I’d forgotten all about Casper. I couldn’t remember seeing him for a couple of years, but there was no mistaking him – even in the dark. I didn’t reckon we’d have another plain-white Brahman bull like him. But, there was something else too. The way he looked at me made me certain it was him. It was like we knew each other. None of the others looked at me like that. They weren’t interested because they didn’t know me.

  Casper had been turned loose like all the poddies were once they were big enough. Some of them stayed around the house for ever, too tame to make friends with the other cattle in the desert. But then there were others like Casper, who grew as wild as the rest, until we didn’t recognise them any more. I guess because he was white, Casper stood out. I dunno why no one had spotted him when we’d mustered the cattle. Maybe Reg, or one of the other fellas, had seen him, but because there was only Dad and me who knew who Casper was, they’d just think he was another bull.

  After a minute or two, Casper looked away and moved into the herd. I waited for a while then walked back to my swag. Dad was awake. He asked where I’d been, so I said I’d been checking the yards. Dad nodded, like he approved. So I told him I’d seen Casper. He smiled and said we’d have a big decision to make in the morning, then.

  I was awake before the sun came up. My nose was cold, but everything else was real warm inside the swag. I heard Rick coughing and so I sat up to see what was going on. Dad was already up, lighting the fire. No one else was awake, but I reckoned I should get up and help Dad.

  We cooked sausages for brekkie, and man, they smelled good. All burnt and smoky. I had a cup of coffee afterwards too – Dad reckoned it’d set me up for the day. As soon as the smell of sausages wafted over to the other swags, the rest of the fellas started to wake up. They were all scratching themselves and stretching, like the dogs did if they’d slept under the house
.

  Then the sun started to rise and the radio in Dad’s ute fizzed. It sounded real loud out there in the desert. Liz’s voice came through. She was radioing to tell Dad that Mum had called. We all heard her say Sissy’s waters had broken. Reg looked at the ground and I could tell he was pretending he hadn’t heard. Dad just said, ‘Right. Right. Righto, then. Well. Well, you’d better keep me posted then. Over.’ When I reckoned the fellas weren’t listening any more I asked Dad what Liz meant about the water breaking and he said it meant they’d be taking Sissy back to hospital and that this time she would be having the baby – for sure. Finally, Sissy was getting a move on with it, I thought. Dad seemed real fidgety. He said, ‘Not long now.’ I asked how long, but he didn’t know. He said it was a waiting game.

  Then we heard a rumbling in the desert and I thought the road train had come early but I was wrong. It was the Barron brothers. They’d been over at Wild Ridge all night, filling the water tanker. It rolled into the yards like a giant piece of tin foil.

  Once we started drafting, everyone could see Casper. Reg laughed at him, he reckoned he was like a gin in a snowstorm. We all laughed at that, even Jack. I felt funny – it made me think of Sissy and the baby.

  I wondered what would happen when Casper came into the yard. I didn’t have to wait long. Rick opened the gate and Casper walked through. He looked real tall and proud compared with the handful of smaller Hereford cows that came through with him. They bucked, ran and jolted around, frightened of what we would do to them. Reg started off with them, choosing just one to go through to be trucked and releasing the rest into another yard to be sent back to the desert. When faced with Casper, Dad looked at me and I could see he was unsure what to do. He forced a smile and beckoned me over. ‘Well? What should we do?’ he asked. I shrugged. Dad put his hand on my shoulder and said that running a station was all about making decisions. I nodded so he knew I was listening. He then told me to think real hard. I looked at the ground. Thoughts of Jonny raced through my head. I wondered what he’d do. Then I thought of Buzz and I knew straight away what the right thing to do was. I looked at Dad and said we should keep Casper.

  Reg had come over to see what we wanted to do. Dad looked at me and said to Reg, ‘Danny reckons we should keep him.’ Reg turned the corners of his mouth down and nodded. Dad then asked me why. I dunno what was more important – the fact Casper had been Jonny’s, or that he was such a good-looking bull, but it was the second reason I gave them. When they heard that, they both nodded. Dad patted my back and said, ‘Good decision.’

  Reg agreed, he said, ‘Good on you, Danny.’ He reckoned we needed a good, strong breeding bull.

  Once the cattle were all drafted and the ones for trucking were waiting patiently in the holding yard, the road train rumbled into the yards. That’s when Dad said he’d take me back to the house because he knew I wanted to see Buzz. I reckon the real reason was that he wanted to be there for when Mum called about Sissy.

  When we got back to the house, Liz was cooking dinner. She said no one had called – even before Dad could ask. He looked real worried then, and went to the phone. I watched him dial the number for Aunty Ve’s, pinned on the wall next to the one for the clinic where Mum worked.

  He waited and waited for what felt like ages, before he slammed the phone down again and said, ‘No answer.’ He said he was going for a shower. When he came out, he still had the towel round him and he went back into the kitchen to use the phone again.

  I guess there was still no answer because he slammed it down again and went to get dressed. When he was dressed he got the phone book out and started looking for the number for the hospital in Alice. He dialled the number there and asked to speak to someone who knew what was going on with Sissy Dawson. Whoever answered can’t have known who Sissy was because that’s when Dad said, ‘She’s my daughter, she’s having a baby.’ I guess they must have put him through to someone who did know who Sissy was because that’s when I heard Dad say: ‘I see. Right. But she’s going to be OK?’

  When he finished on the phone he looked at us all staring at him and said, ‘No news yet.’ I didn’t like it.

  We were halfway through our food when the phone rang. Dad sprung up from his seat and almost ran into the kitchen. I could hear him breathing heavier than usual. ‘G’day, love, what’s happening?’ he asked, so we knew it must be Mum. Dad nodded a bit and said, ‘Right,’ then nodded again, more slowly like he was trying to understand something.

  ‘Is she going to be OK?’

  He looked at us all staring at him – ‘It’s taking longer than expected,’ was all he said. I dunno why, but there was something about the way he looked that reminded me of how he’d been after Jonny died, and I felt sick. Real sick.

  We all walked back to the table, but I couldn’t finish my dinner. Everyone pushed the food round their plates in silence.

  Afterwards, Liz cleared the table and the rest of us watched TV. Dad was real jumpy. He kept flicking the channel over and he looked at his watch about a million times. He was real concerned about being able to hear the phone above the TV – even though it had never been a problem before. He didn’t sit down all night – not really. He’d sit down then jump up again. He’d pace around in the kitchen, and every now and then he’d pick the phone up, just to check it was still working, then put it down again real quick.

  We watched all kinds of programmes on the TV that we weren’t usually allowed to. Then, at nearly midnight, Dad said we all had to go to bed. Emily was already asleep with her head on his knee. He picked her up and told me to switch the TV off. His face looked white and his eyes were real dark.

  As I lay in bed I could hear voices in the dining room. It was Liz and Dad. Liz asked Dad if he was all right. I guess he must have nodded, or something because then Liz said, ‘I’m sure she’ll be OK.’ Dad didn’t answer for a minute. When he did he said, ‘If she comes through this, I won’t give a damn who the father is. I’ve been a fool, Liz.’ Then there was a big silence, for ages, before Liz said Dad had done what he thought was the right thing at the time. He gave a big sigh then and said, ‘I don’t know how much more we can take.’

  Hearing Dad say that made me real scared. I rolled over and looked at the empty bed next to mine and tried to remember what it looked like when Jonny was asleep in it.

  Twenty-eight

  When I woke up, I was full of panic. I wanted to know what was going on with Sissy and the baby. I was in such a rush to get ready, I was still doing my flies up as I burst through my bedroom door into the dining room. Seeing Dad there made me jump. I felt sick. But then he smiled and said, ‘Morning, Uncle Danny.’

  Sissy had had a baby boy in the night. Dad said he was a healthy little fella, just like all us Dawsons. Mum and Sissy had to stay in Alice for a couple of days because Sissy had to stay in hospital – but not because she was crook. He said it was just what happened after having a baby. I didn’t know what he meant. If the baby was out of her belly, I reckoned they should just come home. When the pigs or the cattle had babies, they just went back to normal after an hour or two. Dad reckoned it was a bit different for humans.

  He said Mum wouldn’t come home until Sissy and the baby were ready. I said Aunty Veronica could bring Sissy out to Timber Creek once she’d finished in the hospital, that way Mum could come straight home. Dad shook his head and said that wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t say anything else. I just ate my breakfast.

  ‘Don’t you want to know what your nephew’s called?’ Dad asked. I didn’t – not really. I didn’t get it. I thought we were meant to hate the baby – because of Sissy rooting with Gil. I was kind of sick of it all, especially with it happening during the worst muster ever. Anyway, I didn’t answer, I just shrugged, like I didn’t give a damn. That annoyed Dad just about as much as the weather forecast. He slapped his hand down on the table, which made my plate jump. He said, ‘Stop being a selfish little brat, Daniel. There’s other people in the world apart from you. Sis
sy needs Mum a lot more than we do. You’re an uncle now – so grow up!’ He stared right at me and I felt my heart beating against my chest.

  I’d finished eating, but I didn’t ask to get down from the table. I had a lump in my throat, which meant that if I tried to say anything I might blub. After a few minutes with us both just sitting there, Dad got up. As he reached for his hat he told me to brush my teeth. He opened the door and added, ‘And your nephew’s called Alexander James – after your granddads. Now get a move on.’ I waited to hear the door slam shut before I got up and touched the picture of Jonny.

  When I came out of the bathroom, I could hear Dad in the kitchen on the radio to Reg. Reg said everything was fine at Gum Tree. They’d finished there and were on the way to Timber Creek for the last part of the muster. Just before Dad could say over and out, Reg remembered to ask about the baby. ‘So, was it a girl or a boy – Granddad?’ That made Dad laugh a bit, but not like it was funny – if you know what I mean? He said, ‘As of four-thirty this morning, I have a grandson. Healthy little fella – Alexander James – and Sissy’s doing OK too. Over.’ Reg laughed and said congratulations. ‘The Dawson dynasty continues.’

  Just after Dad put the radio back on top of the fridge, it fizzed and old Dick Croft’s voice came through. He must have heard Dad talking to Reg because he said, ‘Come in, Timber Creek. Congratulations – great news about little Alexander James. Over.’ Dad lifted the receiver down again and said: ‘G’day, Dick, and thanks. Over.’ He didn’t need to explain to Dick why Sissy had called the baby Alexander James. I could almost hear Dick’s grin when he said, ‘Old Alex’ll be strutting around up there in heaven with a smile from here to Alice Springs.’ Dick said it was a good, strong name and that he and his boys looked forward to wetting the baby’s head. I couldn’t work out why any of them would be bothered about washing Alex. I was thinking about that when I heard Dad say, ‘Sue reckons Alex looks just like his Uncle Danny.’ My mouth fell open as Dick’s laughter came through the radio. I lifted my hand up to my face to feel the smile I was wearing – like it suddenly belonged to someone else.