Fire Eye

by Peter d’Plesse

  “Fucking bitch had it com’n. Nobody puts their hands on my kid just for stirring up the dogs a bit. I gave it to the fuck’n bitch and you’ll get your turn, don’t worry!”

  They pull into Cookara Creek after their prey have left and stop at the pub. Both agree they need a beer and that some slabs are a necessity out here. They have an Engel fridge in the back of the Patrol, perfect for keeping some cold ones on hand when needed. They are leaning on the bar enjoying their second beer as Decker is working through an idea taking shape inside his head. Technology is wonderful. He enjoys setting it up and playing with it. But what if something goes wrong? He needs a back up just in case.

  Without bothering to talk it through with Jesse, he lets the words come out of his mouth, “We’re here to do some pig hunting and fishing,” he says to the barmaid, a Swedish backpacker doing her stint to experience the real Australia. Another fucking looker, he notes, admiring her tits and open smile! Would he love to do her! He could develop a foreign taste! Maybe on the way back? First things first, he tells himself. This could turn out to be the holiday of a life time! “We don’t have a lot of time. Any chance of hiring someone to guide us around a bit? Someone good at tracking?”

  She looks back at him with a bewildered expression. She is confused by the word ‘tracking’ and can’t place its meaning. “I ask the boss,” she replies and disappears out the back.

  A tough, rugged, no-nonsense woman wiping her hands on a towel follows her out. She puts her elbows on the bar and leans toward Decker. “You want to do some pig hunting and fishing? Need someone to show you around?”

  Decker is all charm. “That’s it,” he replies with one of his best smiles. “I brought my son up to show him the country but we’re a bit short on time. I should have allowed longer. A good tracker and guide who knows the country out toward the coast would help a lot. I’m happy to pay for their time,” he adds.

  “Up here you wouldn’t have to pay some,” she spits, “just supply the alcohol!” She sees Decker raise his eyebrows in pretend surprise, so backpedals a bit. “The Jones brothers, Joe and Brad, are pretty reliable and know what they’re doing. Most of the time they’re away working cattle or odd jobbing, but today’s your lucky day! You can find them in the beer garden out back.”

  Perfect—itinerants! Decker thanks her with his best manners and buys a six pack. He and Jesse go out back to the beer garden, a concrete area covered by a shade cloth and with a few pot plants scattered around against the walls. Timber uprights, tables and benches are bolted to the concrete to make sure they stay put even as the alcohol consumption goes up. There is no difficulty recognising the brothers as they are the only two there. Decker sidles up to their table with Jesse behind and puts the six pack in front of them. “Like a beer?” he asks.

  The brothers already have a few under the belt and look up with surprise. They’ve been wondering how they can scrounge another beer and a six pack has just dropped in front of them.

  “Hi there bro! Come sit wi’v us! ‘Ave a drink!” the eldest responds.

  Decker and Jesse take up the invitation and sit down on either side of the table. They still have their own beers and leave the six pack on the table, minus two. They introduce themselves and Decker sizes them up. Joe is the oldest, black woolly hair with small patches of grey over a face wrinkled by sun and wind, but with eyes that still have the sparkle of black fella humour. He has what could have been an attempt at a beard or else he simply hasn’t shaved for a few days. Brad is his younger brother, quiet and shy with a perpetual grin on his dark face that time and weather hasn’t had time to leave their mark on. Both wear white shirts stained by recent work over faded denim jeans and brown high-heeled boots scarred by outback life.

  Once again Decker is a perfect image of the rugged, down-to-earth Australian male. He talks with them about travel, the Territory, fishing and hunting before broaching his subject of interest. “Jess and me want to do some fishing and a bit of hunting. We haven’t got too much time, so I wondered if we could hire someone who knew the country, like a tracker, to help us out.”

  With a few beers under their belt already the brothers can see a bit of easy money coming their way. They love being out in the scrub anyway, so the proposal has instant attraction. However, they also see the opportunity to pick up some good beer money. “How much you bin thinking of paying us bro?” Joe asks.

  Decker sees the opening. “Time with me son is important. How about two hundred dollars a day?”

  Joe considers the offer. That’s a hundred a day each just for finding a good fishing spot and a few pigs for the white fellas. Easy money!

  “That’s two hundred a day each, by the way,” Decker adds. He sees the lights go on in their eyes. He has no intention of paying it, but they don’t know that.

  Joe doesn’t need to think long to come up with an answer. “Done bro!” he says, thrusting out his hand to shake on the deal. “You ain’t seen fishing and hunting like me and Brad’ll show you!” Bloody white fellas, Joe thinks. More money than sense. Can’t even find their own bloody pigs and fish!

  Decker looks at Joe’s hand and conceals the revulsion that rears inside him. Physical contact is a small price to pay for insurance. They shake on the deal and sink some more beer while the fishing and hunting stories get bigger and better. Unseen beneath the table, Decker wipes his hand against his trousers until it feels clean again. He is careful to sit on his beer and Jesse copies his father, following carefully in the footsteps of a master of deceit. Finally they agree on a time to meet up the next day at an easy to find turn off down the road.

  As they head back to the Patrol, Jesse can’t contain his curiosity any longer. “What’d you do that for? We don’t need them black fellas!”

  “Take it fucking easy boy, I’m just covering our bases in case something goes wrong. It’s a big country out here and them black bastards are good trackers. Just in case. If we don’t need ‘em we can piss ‘em off!”

  “Yeah, good thinking I guess. Do you reckon they’ll find it? The plane I mean,” he adds.

  “I reckon so boy. It’s the only reason they’re out here, for sure. There’re not on a honeymoon, not with that bitch. Soon we’re going to have some fun and might even get lucky!” He didn’t elaborate about his hopes for Fire Eye.

  They fire up the Patrol and head down the road satisfied they have a good plan in place.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  On the way into the homestead, Jed and Alex pass Aboriginal stockmen on their horses, riding proud and confident among stray cattle, collecting stragglers at the end of a long day. The riders radiate relaxed competence and give a friendly wave as they drive by.

  Narraburra homestead crouches behind a levee bank surrounding a good five acres of country. A four metre wide, mesh-enclosed verandah acts as a protective shield around the living quarters of the house, keeping out flies, mosquitoes, heat and anything else unwelcome. The outside of the house is shaded by a protective ring of trees to deflect the heat of the sun. Green lawn watered from a bore adds a cool, relaxing touch. To the west of the homestead they can see a mixture of outbuildings, sheds, stockyards and machinery that form the infrastructure of any outback station. In the distance, they can see a collection of roofs that could be the stockman’s quarters. At the back of the homestead is a safe, fenced enclosure for the breeding stallion. The horse is nibbling at the feed left for him; he is an all-black stallion, strong and well-shaped, radiating power and temperament as he feeds quietly.

  Stuart Brockman welcomes them, standing tall in faded moleskins, scuffed R. M. Williams boots and an open-necked shirt. His face is framed by curly dark brown hair and his features are open but strong, with a slight shading of stubble fighting back from an early morning shave. He is in his mid-fifties and his skin is tanned a deep brown by the sun, his shirt barely concealing hard muscles honed by years of cattle work, fencing and horse breaking.

  “Come inside and git outta the dust. The wife’s
away with family so it’s just me,” he encourages as he guides them into the house. The living room is huge, dominated by an open fireplace to cater for the nights that locals consider cold, around which are arranged a couch and armchairs. Timber bookcases and a dresser line the walls, along with a gun cabinet holding six rifles and shotguns, safely secured. Toward the back of the open plan space is the kitchen and dining table, while in the background a CB radio squawks the odd message across the ether.

  “Can’t have you camping tonight!” Stuart growls huskily as they check out the living room. “The spare rooms are free so you’re welcome to them. Good to have some company.”

  He escorts them to their rooms, each with a double bed, antique bush furniture and dado-clad walls with double doors opening onto the wide verandah. He leaves them alone to get settled, searching out his beer for company.

  Alex and Jed dump their gear and make a quick inspection of the facilities. “This place is huge,” says Jed. “We’ll need a cut lunch to go to the bathroom.” The long side of the verandah has impressed him with its forty-five metre length—he could put a pistol range in there or zero a rifle.

  “Didn’t know you had a weak bladder!” Alex teases. “It happens when you get old!”

  “Hmmph!” is his only reply as they head back to the living room.

  At the end of the brief inspection, Jed knows the offer of country hospitality can’t be refused. “Thanks Stuart, this’ll be wonderful. It’ll be great to get a good night’s sleep! Have you eaten yet—maybe I can rustle something up?”

  “I won’t knock that back,” he replies eagerly, offering Jed a can. “There’s a fresh cut of beef in the fridge. Like a beer Alex?”

  “Love one, Stuart!” She would prefer a cool wine, but recognises she is definitely in a man’s world.

  Jed sips on the beer and looks around the kitchen, spotting everything he needs through the open door of the walk-in pantry. While they talk he takes out the beef, finds a chopping board and knife and starts to cut the beef into pieces as Alex watches appraisingly.

  “Cut it reasonably chunky,” she suggests. “It can cook slow for a good hour and be nice and tender.”

  Jed skips the wok and finds a heavy pan to get the meat underway with some onion, stock and garlic. He brings in some supplies from the car and Alex watches him sort through them as they make small talk. After the beer, they crack a bottle of red and sip its luxurious flavours as the meat simmers.

  “The meat’s been hung so it should be nice and tender,” Stuart confirms. “Meat that is really fresh is tougher and blander than when it’s been hung. Hanging allows time to break down the fibres, making the texture softer and the flavour better. This should be really good! I don’t cook much when the wife is away.”

  “A stew is quick and simple but I can add a few tricks,” Jed promises as he prepares some vegetables.

  Alex has watched him at work and can’t restrain herself any longer. “Can I help?” she asks in a tone that doesn’t expect no for an answer. “Let’s have a decent meal so let me help!” she says, searching through the pantry and ingredients Jed has brought in. In no time at all she whips together a combination of herbs and spices that she adds to the simmering pan without asking permission.

  “What do you mean, decent?” Jed tosses back as he works on the vegetables.

  “Have a drink with Stuart and let me work magic or stay and be sous chef, but leave the creativity to me!” she announces in a tone expecting dissent.

  Jed avoids the challenge and stays to help, although he doesn’t submit totally. He takes some initiative and goes over to the pot to check it as they talk. As he gives the contents a stir, Alex watches him, then joins him by the stove. “Stir it from the outside in,” she commands, taking the spoon from him. “Outside in! Always outside in to mix the flavours! I’ve been told I’m a bit domineering and a bully, well not quite a bully, but maybe an unemployed sergeant major or even an infant school mistress. What do you think?” she asks.

  Well, Jed considers. If he’d thought of it maybe he would have used the sergeant major metaphor, if he was brave enough! “Not at all baby, I’m anticipating the outcome with excitement!” Good cover, he decides!

  She puts down the spoon, turns to face him with her hands on her hips, standing straight with feet apart and hits him with that narrow-eyed look. “I’m nobody’s baby and don’t even think it!” she fires back like a point blank broadside from a battleship.

  “You two have got to be married! Will we end up with something good to eat?” Stuart asks as he leans back with his wine watching the performance.

  Alex and Jed look at him, at each other, then back to him. “We always play like this,” Jed says bravely. He senses the narrow-eyed look again and avoids eye contact.

  “I’d love to see a fight then!” Stuart responds with an alcohol-fuelled chuckle.

  Alex stirs the pan then tastes it with a long-handled spoon. “I think this will work out. Just give it time to cook and for the flavours to do their magic,” she pronounces. “Who’s for another wine?” she asks, holding up the bottle of red. “Rice, we need rice!” she adds, putting another pot on the stove. “Take care of it sous!” she instructs. “If you think you can handle it!”

  Jed takes up the challenge with a smile. Bloody rice! After their dinner at Maldini’s he has a better handle on her and isn’t offended. Her need for control seems like a parallel strategy to his use of the principal role to keep people and emotions at bay. He has grown a bit in her company and has nothing to prove so he takes care of the rice.

  Stuart is far more than a cowboy farming cattle. He has a degree in agriculture, flies his own aircraft on station business, reads extensively and can converse on a range of topics. They sip wine and talk about the outback, cattle, horses, aircraft, hunting and ancient history until the meal is ready. The conversation continues over the dinner table.

  “This is pretty good!” Stuart appraises as he goes for seconds. “Do you two always cook like this?” he asks, spooning another load into his mouth.

  Jed takes the lead on that. “We’ll get better with practise,” he tries. What a risk—too much bloody wine! He can feel her eyes appraising him, but doesn’t make eye contact.

  “He cooks alright,” Alex allows condescendingly, “but he needs direction and supervision from a master!”

  They look sideways at each other, eyes of steel boring unflinchingly into each other while Stuart tucks unawares into the last of the meal. Neither is willing to give ground and Stuart is a welcome distraction from the clash of wills.

  “I don’t mind how much you guys fight if I get a meal like this!” he announces, pushing his plate aside. “Fantastic!” Stuart leans back with the last of the wine and becomes philosophical. “This country needs people like you. You should think about moving up here and building a life.”

  Jed and Alex have the same thought but don’t share it. Us! Have a life up here! Together! They look at each other pondering the scenario, but saying nothing. They give no sign of it but each sees the appeal of the tough, independent lifestyle. Neither will admit there is room for the other in the vision.

  “Timing’s not right,” Jed throws in for both of them. “We both have commitments.”

  “A real shame,” Stuart responds. “You could do well up here with some effort.”

  Alex twirls the wine glass between her fingers and thinks about her own fifty hectares, the horses and dogs calling it home, the stone house slowly being renovated and her own need for space and privacy. It is an attractive thought but all she says is, “It’s time for me to get some sleep. Thanks for a great evening boys. I’ll leave you both to talk about whatever boys talk about.”

  Jed is tempted to follow but knows it isn’t the time or place so he says goodnight as she goes out to the verandah, her steps fading toward her room.

  “You heading out to the coast?” Stuart asks when they are alone.

  “All the way,” Jed replies.

>   “That’s tough country. Thick scrub and swamp behind the coast. Only been through there once myself. Not much to see so never went back.”

  “We’re doing some research and photography for an article.” Jed feels guilty about lying, but it is simpler all round. “With luck we should only need three days, say four at most. We’ll check in on the way back or leave a note if you’re not here.”

  “That’ll be fine. If you need anything you can call on the radio as you pass through. You got a radio in the truck?”

  “No, only an EPIRB for emergencies, but it would have to be bad to set that off. Too embarrassing!” Jed confides.

  “Yeah, understand that,” Stuart agrees with a smile. “Time to hit the sack. If you hear any noises during the night, it’ll probably be pigs being a nuisance around the horses. They’re real bastards at the moment!”

  “Take a lot to wake me!” Jed replies with conviction. “See you in the morning Stuart.”

  They head to their rooms and soon the sounds of men preparing for bed die away. Silence and darkness descend on the homestead as Alex pulls the doona tightly around her and snuggles into the pillows, trying to decide whether she wants or misses the goodnight dramas of the last three nights.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  It is the noises that drag Jed out of a rare deep sleep. First the rustle of branches and leaves against the outside wall of the bedroom as a gentle night breeze teases the trees, the sharp calling of a bird just outside the verandah, then the excited barking of the dogs up behind the homestead. These sounds are joined by the nervous neighing of horses galloping in erratic spurts around their enclosure, followed soon after by the sound of Stuart’s boot clad feet clumping up to the living room.

  Jed snaps awake and rolls out of the double bed, slipping on denim jeans, black T-shirt, socks and boots. He slips a compact, high intensity Nightstalker torch into a pocket and joins Stuart in the living room, where he finds him opening the gun cabinet.