‘I wonder where Charles is?’ said Sam when they’d finished eating. ‘I can’t see his plant stall around …’
Tess scanned the busy stalls and shook her head. ‘Let’s ask the guy who was next to him the other week.’
They wandered over to where a man was chopping green coconuts with an extremely large machete.
‘The bonsai bloke? Ah, he’s the mystery man,’ laughed the coconut chopper. ‘Never know when he’ll turn up next. Always out bush – don’t know how he stays in business! Some people have it easy, not like the rest of us who have a job during the week as well. He could be here next Saturday, if you want to try then, but I can’t promise you anything. Want to buy a coconut drink?’
They had a last look around the markets, bought a mango smoothie each and headed back to Tess’s house.
‘That sleazy little bloke who knocked Aunty Sarah’s crystal into the gutter isn’t here either, so I suppose that’s a plus,’ noted Tess as they left.
On the way home they took a different route, and found themselves walking past Charles’s house.
‘Why don’t we go in and say hello?’ suggested Tess. ‘Ask him why he’s not at the markets.’
‘Maybe his van fell off another cliff,’ muttered Sam.
Charles wasn’t home. In fact the house looked completely deserted. But as they were leaving the verandah, Sam grabbed Tess’s arm. ‘Look! There’s some of those same sinkers we’ve found out at the station!’
On a table near the doorway, amongst some bonsais and earthenware pots, was a small wooden box containing about a dozen large steel shapes.
‘But sinkers must be a dime a dozen. Everyone who goes fishing must have them.’
‘No,’ Sam was adamant. ‘Dad said they were unusual – much bigger than normal ones. Doesn’t it seem a bit of a coincidence that the same sinkers are here too, if they’re so unusual? I don’t know about Charles, he seems suss to me. He really sat up and listened when he heard the name of our place. And remember how weird he was about the birds, how he corrected George about the “branded” fruit dove, and then said he’d never heard of it? Nah, he’s up to something.’
‘Sam, I think you’re getting a bit carried away. He most likely heard of Brumby Plains somewhere else. And I think he just made a mistake with the bird name. Why should that make him some kind of criminal anyway? He seemed like a nice harmless man. A bit on the nutty side, maybe, but I really don’t think there’s anything sinister about him.’
They arrived back at the station to find George bursting to tell them some news. ‘While you were in town, Stinkin’ Jerry came over. He was complaining to Dad that the fence was down again between him and us past the Pocket, and practically accused Dad of mustering his paddock there!’
Sam swore. ‘Like Dad really needs something else to worry about right now. As if he’d ever do anything like that!’
‘Sounds much more like something Stinkin’ Jerry would do,’ put in Darcy, but everyone ignored him. He was still unpopular, as they’d all been grounded for the next few days so that Darcy’s arm would have a chance to mend.
‘Jeez, anyone’d think we broke his arm for him,’ said George when he heard. ‘Can I break his other one? Then I might feel better about having to stay home!’
Tess asked George, ‘So what’s Uncle Mac going to do about it?’
‘Nothing. We went down there later on and had a look, but there weren’t any buffalo tracks. Dad thinks it’s probably some pig shooters. Stinkin’ Jerry’s just trying to cause trouble. He knows we haven’t mustered for a month or more, anyway. He had that dopey looking Nigel with him too, and you’ll never guess who else – that sleazy guy from the markets, the one who bumped into you, Sam!’
‘How come he knows the O’Dearns?’ said Tess.
‘They know all kinds of sleazy people,’ said Sam disgustedly.
‘There was one good thing though,’ George said, brightening up considerably. ‘They brought one of their pig dogs with them, that ugly brindle thing with half an ear missing? He jumped out of their ute and growled at Dad, and Zac flew into him and gave him a flogging! Now he’s got two half-ears!’
That night Mac and Sarah looked very unhappy and didn’t eat much before excusing themselves from the dinner table and going into the office. Even Old Jock wasn’t himself. He watched Mac and Sarah leave the table, and muttered, ‘Flamin’ mongrel banks. Never trust a bank, I always say. They lend yez just enough rope for a good hangin’, and then they sell tickets to it.’
Sam looked at him. ‘What’s the story with Stinkin’ Jerry? George said he came over on Saturday.’
‘That lousy cur reckons we took the fence down to muster his paddock! As if we’d be wantin’ his stinkin’ buffalo, with their bones pokin’ through their hides. Anyway, any fool could see there was only a few tyre tracks going through, no buffalo. Someone’s bin nosin’ around down there, but blowed if I know who.’ With that Jock got up from the table and went out, muttering to himself about lowlanders and cattle thieves.
George grinned at Sam and said, ‘Sounds like there’ll be a replay of the Highland battles again tonight, laddie!’ Jock was famous for getting drunk when there was a problem, and confusing the Campbells and MacDonalds with the O’Dearns and the McAllisters.
‘Have you told Uncle Mac about the dead birds and the camp at the lake, Sam?’ Tess asked.
‘No,’ replied Sam with a sigh. ‘I think he’s got too much on his plate right now. It’s probably only pig shooters anyway.’
With that they cleared the table and did the dishes, while making snide remarks about people with broken arms who conveniently got out of work.
Two days later Mac came into breakfast with news of a cyclone watch for the area, so any chance of an expedition away from the homestead was well and truly cancelled. Darcy took some small comfort from the fact that it wasn’t only his broken arm which had them all housebound.
‘Why don’t we see if we can get onto Norrie and Lazarus on the computer?’ he said when they’d all stopped moaning. ‘They’re on the internet too.’
They sent Norrie and Lazarus an email, inviting them to play a game over the net, and surfed around looking at websites while waiting for an answer.
Within a short time it came through: ‘Hi, just got your message. We can play for about an hour, then Uncle needs to use the phone. Where will we meet you?’
Sam sent back an email with a website address, and soon they were playing a kind of space age battleships game.
After only half an hour Mac appeared at the door. ‘Sorry, fellas – I need to use the office.’ The expression on his face didn’t allow for argument, so they headed out to the verandah.
They were kicking their heels on the verandah rails when a vehicle came into view.
‘Hey, isn’t that Charles’s van?’ said George.
‘What’s he doing here?’ Sam frowned.
Sarah came out onto the verandah at the sound of the approaching engine. ‘Oh! I forgot to tell you. Your friend Charles Rowntree phoned yesterday and asked if he could come out. He wants to look for some native tree seedlings.’
‘’Ullo, ’ullo, ’ullo!’ Charles Rowntree unfolded his lanky frame from the driver’s seat and ambled towards them with a wave and a half-bow. ‘A welcoming committee! I am indeed honoured. And this must be your mother – I do hope the bonsai is behaving itself? How do you do, Mrs McAllister, it’s a pleasure, a pleasure!’ And he shook Sarah’s hand vigorously, eyebrows darting around his forehead and his ponytail whipping from side to side.
Sarah seemed as if she was trying hard not to laugh, and took Charles inside to meet Mac.
Tess looked at Sam and shook her head. ‘I don’t know what you’re so suspicious about. Even your mum likes him!’
Sam said nothing and shrugged. He was convinced there was something not quite right about Charles Rowntree, no matter how much the others all fell for him.
They had a cup of tea while Mac gave Charles dir
ections around the property to places he would be likely to find interesting specimens.
‘That should keep you busy enough for two days, I reckon. You can camp in the single men’s quarters, and eat here with us, if you like. And the kids can show you around. Might stop you getting lost.’
‘Oh no, no, no, thank you very much, but I don’t want to be any trouble. I’ll be perfectly happy camping on that delightful little creek I crossed on my way in here, if that’s all right with you? I have all my gear with me. And I’m sure these good people have much better things to do than follow me around!’ Charles grinned at the others, his eyebrows doing their ferret imitation again.
‘Suit yourself. You may get wet though – there’s a cyclone watch on. Anyway, usual station rules, leave all the gates as you find ’em, and don’t pat the buffalo!’
With that, Mac and Sarah disappeared into the office again.
‘So this is Brumby Plains!’ said Charles, beaming at the remaining four. ‘Very nice little spread you have, I must say. And what do you do with yourselves all day, so far from town? There can’t be too many vans to pull up cliffs in your spare time?’
Tess, George and Darcy giggled. Sam pretended to be interested in some ants trying to make off across the table with a few grains of sugar.
‘We ride our horses, and go exploring and stuff,’ said George.
‘Yeah,’ said Darcy enthusiastically. ‘There’s heaps to do out here!’
‘Really?’ Charles made a face that looked like he didn’t believe them. ‘It doesn’t get boring, all those buffalo, nothing but miles of grass and trees? I suppose there’s the wildlife, wallabies and all that. How about birds? Any birdwatchers amongst you lot?’ Charles’s eyebrows were hurtling around his forehead.
‘Dad knows all the birds on this place,’ boasted George. ‘He reckons we’ve got a treasure chest of birds here.’
‘A treasure chest of birds, is that so? Oh yes – you told me about the … ah, the … spotted pigeon, was it?’
‘No! Not a pigeon, a dove!’ laughed Tess and George. ‘It was a banded fruit dove!’
‘Of course, of course, how silly of me. And where do you find them?’
‘Right where you’re going!’ said Darcy. ‘We saw some last week, when we went up to look at –’ He was cut short by Tess elbowing him, unfortunately right on his broken arm, and he yelped in pain.
‘Oops, sorry, Darce,’ said Tess brightly. ‘Did you tell Charles how you got your broken arm?’
A short while later they stood on the verandah watching Charles’s white van disappear in a cloud of dust towards the Escarpment.
‘He’s such a funny bloke,’ laughed George, shaking his head. ‘I thought his eyebrows were going to fly off his face!’
Tess and Darcy agreed, but Sam was obstinate in his opinion of Charles. ‘Yeah, well, I still reckon he’s suss. How many people come out here and don’t want to be shown around? And anyone can see it might rain – why would he want to camp outside?’
‘He probably just likes being on his own. He’s a bit strange, that’s all,’ shrugged George, who appreciated anyone with a sense of humour.
They didn’t see Charles again after that. He had obviously camped on the creek and headed back to town the next day as he had planned. Things looked pretty dull and boring.
Then, the day after Charles had left, George catapulted into the dining room where Sam and Darcy were playing Monopoly, and yelled excitedly, ‘Dad said the cyclone watch is cancelled, and we can go out for a drive tomorrow if we want!’ He looked over his shoulder, and dropped his voice. ‘Let’s go back to the cave now. We won’t get another chance before it gets too wet out there.’
Tess was in the office chatting to Norrie over the internet when she heard George’s news. She asked Norrie and Lazarus to come with them to see the cave.
‘No way, Tess – old Granpa would know about it. We’d get into too much trouble. You mob be careful anyway. Tell us all about it when you get back.’ Norrie signed off at her end.
They started making plans at once. This time Sam was leaving nothing to chance, and scrounged a torch for each of them. They made lunches and packed up the Landcruiser that night, and next morning were off early with copious warnings from Sarah and Mac about being careful and watching out for Darcy’s arm.
Darcy had the good grace to look embarrassed.
The air was heavy and humid, and a heat haze shimmered over the bare scorched sandstone on top of the Arm. They sweated up the top of the ridge to where the banyan root dropped into the cave, and stood looking down at the hole, all breathing heavily, their T-shirts plastered to their backs.
‘We can’t go down there today, not with Darcy’s arm. I didn’t even think about that.’ Sam swore, and sat on the ground. George and Tess slumped beside him, and Darcy looked like he wanted to roll himself into a little ball and hide in a hollow log.
‘Well,’ said Tess after a moment, ‘let’s have a really good look up here instead. There might be a lot more interesting stuff.’
They shouldered their packs again and wandered up the eroded watercourse towards the other side of the ridge.
‘It’s a lot narrower here,’ said George, looking north and south along the top of the ridge. The Arm was about five hundred metres wide or more for most of its length, but seemed to pinch in at the point where they were standing on the eastern side. ‘Looks like all this rock fell away at some time.’
They stood staring down at the maze of tumbled sandstone boulders.
‘Man, that must have been a landslide and a half. I wonder what made it fall?’ said George.
‘Looks like it happened a long time ago, though. Let’s go down there,’ said Tess. ‘Darcy, you wait here while we have a quick squiz …’
Within a few minutes they were standing near the bottom of the rockfall, peering into a small dark opening that was almost hidden by bushes and clumps of grass.
‘This might be another cave!’ exclaimed George excitedly. ‘C’mon, let’s have a look inside!’
They found the torches in their backpacks and squeezed inside the narrow opening. It was musty and dry inside, and they could make out the shape of fallen rock and debris. It just looked like a space under a landslide, and none too safe either. It smelled old, and small creatures scurried away from the torchlight.
‘I don’t know about this place. It doesn’t look very stable, does it?’ whispered Sam. He jumped as something scuttled across his foot.
George shone his torch in a wide arc and stopped. ‘What’s that over there – on the wall?’
Sam and Tess squinted in the gloom.
‘It looks like some of those paintings we saw in the other cave,’ said Tess.
‘Wow, maybe they’re all over the ridge!’
A faint voice reached them from outside, and Sam straightened up. ‘I forgot about Darcy. C’mon, we better not leave him by himself up there for too long. We’ll come back here another time,’ he said reluctantly.
They scrambled back up the rockfall to where Darcy waited, looking irritated.
‘Where’d you guys get to?’ he complained. ‘It’s not fair being stuck here by myself!’
‘Yeah, well, whose fault is that?’ demanded George.
They set off along the ridge again, heading south, following the scoured-out watercourse. After a while they came upon a patch of greenery, overhung by trees and creepers. In the middle of a rocky kind of basin, they could see the remains of a pool which was now just a muddy puddle. Tracks and little paths showed it was visited by much of the local wildlife.
‘Hey, this must be a spring!’ said Tess.
‘No wonder there’s usually so many birds up here,’ said Sam. ‘It’s probably the only water for miles. I guess it gets them through the last of the dry season, before it rains.’ He looked around at the silent bush and wondered aloud, ‘It’s weird that there are no birds now, though. There should be.’
He and Tess were moving around the edg
e when George suddenly stopped dead and said, ‘What’s this stuff?’
He had walked right into what looked like a giant spider web, only it was a lot stronger. They gathered round it, not immediately understanding what they were looking at.
‘This is weird stuff,’ said Darcy, fingering the fine netting. ‘You can hardly see it until you’re up close. It’s not some kind of cast net, is it? You know, for catching small bait fish?’
‘Why would anyone bring a fishing net up here? There’s no fish in the pool,’ said Tess.
She moved along the length of the net and stopped. ‘Oh! There are some birds caught up in it …’
Four or five little finches dangled above their heads, their tiny bodies caught in the filaments. All of them were dead. A fluttering suddenly shook the netting, and they realised there was another bird trapped in it. It was a banded fruit dove, and its feet and one wing were tangled in the netting. It flapped as Sam approached it, but as he laid his hands on it to disentangle it from the net it became quiet and still. He gently pulled it free, and it lay against his chest for a moment or two, and then flew away in a sudden explosion of wings.
They watched as it disappeared into the trees, and then George said, ‘Look at this! Sam, aren’t these like the sinker you found at the Pocket?’
He picked up one end of the net. Spaced evenly along the bottom edge were several lead weights, smaller than the one Sam had found at the Pocket, but otherwise of the same design. Sam felt his stomach turn over, but he also felt a surge of anger.
‘This isn’t a fishing net – it’s for catching birds! Look! It’s set up in front of these trees, so that when the birds fly down to drink, they get caught in it.’
‘Oh my God,’ said Tess. ‘I read about that in the newspaper. The birds get caught in Australia, and then they’re smuggled overseas. People pay big money for wild birds.’
‘And lots of them die,’ she added, touching the little feathered bodies of the finches.
Brumby Plains Page 7