"Thanks, Mr English," the boy said and left him to settle in.
Ricky had a busy day on Saturday but still felt fresh enough for his usual dinner with the Forrests. He never needed to be shown the way now for Ned Forrest had laughingly told him he had worn a track over to Claremont. He always enjoyed his time with Ned and Nell and, of course, Jenny.
As they settled down to talk after dinner, Ned said to Ricky, "Ricky, you told me you wanted to contact that black who helped your father."
"Yes, I did, Mr Forrest. Have you heard from him at last? It is a long time since he helped Father."
"Yes, it is, and I haven't heard a whisper of him since, until the other day. You know I told him to come to me if ever he needed me and he turned up here three days ago."
"Was he in trouble, Mrs Forrest?" asked Ricky.
"Yes, he was. Someone has been taking pot-shots at him and his people. He had a pellet in his arm and he was quite annoyed about it. Apparently some of the other blacks have been hit quite badly, and they are really ready to take reprisals. Durren apparently told them to hold their fire until he saw me. I went into Windsor and told the police there, they came out but they haven't been able to find the culprit."
Ricky somehow felt uneasy about this. "Tell me what Durren said, please."
"Well, it happens when the people go down to the river last thing at night. It is always after dark. I didn't think blacks were about much at night, but apparently they are. Someone sits up in a tall gum tree that overhangs the river opposite their camp, and as they come down he shoots at them. Not very accurately as it happens, which is a good thing. But something must be done for we don't want any reprisals here, I've my family to think of. Durren said that if we can find out who does it he can keep his people at bay."
"Didn't the police find any clues?"
"Only that a pony is tethered to a tree just near by. It is on my property, you know and I feel darned responsible."
Nell Forrest said, "I've never felt afraid of the blacks around here, Ricky, but I can understand them getting very annoyed about it. If, whoever it is, gets to be a better shot they might kill someone and then we would all be in strife."
"I'm seriously thinking of sending Nell, Jenny and the children away, Ricky, until it is sorted out. We are the nearest to their trouble and I won't risk my family."
Ricky said, "Indeed no! Do you think they should come up to Rocklea? They would be safer there."
Nell cut in, "No, not yet. I don't think anything will happen yet. I have great faith in that Durren of yours, Ricky."
"He's hardly mine, Mrs Forrest. I have yet to meet him."
Just then Jenny came into the room after settling the children down to bed. Nell said, "We are just telling Ricky about Durren, Jenny. Ned wants us to de-camp."
"I don't want you to be risked, Jenny. I think you should all come over to Rocklea," said Ricky anxiously.
"I'll not leave Ned, Ricky, so don't suggest it," said Nell.
"You'll do as I say, lass," said Ned, severely. "If I think you should go, you will."
"But Uncle Ned, you don't, do you?" asked Jenny. "I have have great faith in Durren, Ricky. He is fine looking man."
"Just what Mrs Forrest says. I hope your faith is not mis-placed. But seriously Mr Forrest, do you think there is a risk?"
"Well, I have a 24 hour watch all the time and I don't think anyone could slip through. All the men are alerted and are armed when on duty. So I really have faith that we will be all right. But I do wish I could find the man who is doing it. I almost feel I could string him up. I think the men would do just that if I don't, for there are several families here and no-one wants to see them harmed."
Ricky found it hard to break away and leave his love in any danger, he realised that she was well protected, but he was uneasy. He thought deeply when riding home and as soon as he got to Rocklea sought our Rob and Beetson. He told them the story and he wasn't surprised when he found that they all came to the same conclusion. They worked out a plan, setting their ideas in motion, then they pretended to go to bed. Rob crept down to the paddock where the ponies were kept and hid behind a bush. Beetson lay in his bed snoring realistically, and Ricky waited in the stables with the three saddled horses. Ricky didn't think there was a chance of catching the culprit that night for it would be too good to be true. But it was not long before Rob slipped into the stables and said, "It's on, Mr English. I saw who I think is Micky slip onto the pony and head off down the paddock. I'll go and get Beetson."
"All right, Rob. As soon as you get back I will go for Ned Forrest for he must be in this too."
"Right-o." Rob slipped out again like a shadow. It was only a matter of minutes before he came back with Beetson and the three mounted and rode off a silently as they could, the two men following the rider and Ricky heading for Claremont.
Ricky didn't have to keep quiet for the lanes were away from the paddocks that the others were following and so he clattered into the yard at Claremont, pulling up with a start when one of Forrest's men on duty rushed out to meet him. He called to tell who it was and then asked the man to rouse Mr Forrest. But just then Ned put his head out of the top window. "Who's that?" he called.
"It's Ricky, Mr Forrest. Can you dress and come down? Rob and Beetson are following someone we think is the shooter."
"I'm on my way. Mason, get Jenson, and saddle horses," he called. Mason ran off. "And bring the gun, Mason," he called.
It was only a matter of minutes before Ned appeared, dressed, and very soon after Mason and Jenson came with horses. During that time Ricky explained what had happened. Ned in turn told the men.
"Lead off Mason. You have best night eyes. Follow him Ricky and Jenson and I will tag along. You know the tree Mason so move on a quietly as you can," instructed Ned.
They moved off into the night. Mason opening gates whenever needed, and soon they were cantering across the large river paddock. They left their horses at the far side and jumped over the post and rail fence. Just then they heard a scuffling and found Rob and Beetson's horses tethered under a gum tree. They walked silently towards a huge gum tree that Ricky could see against the moonlit sky. There was a clump of bushes near this and using this to hide behind they found that Rob and Beetson had had the same idea.
"He doesn't know we followed him Mr English, and now he is up in the tree, way up," whispered Rob.
"Is it Micky, Rob?" he asked.
Beetson whispered, "Yes, sir, it is. He's left the pony below the tree, and used him to hitch himself up to reach the first branch."
"I kin see the young varmint, Mr Forrest, kin I 'ave a pot shot at 'im?" asked Mason.
"You keep your fire, man. I'll deal with this. Give me the gun," Ned said.
"But, sir, I'd like to get me 'ands on 'im, and fill 'im with a few pellets first."
"Leave it to me, you can all come. If its a youngster I don't think we'll have much trouble.," said Forrest.
"I don't think so either, Mr Forrest," said Beetson. "He's a good kid really, I don't know what's got into him. I'd like you to give him a chance, sir."
"We'll see what he has to say for himself. Now follow me." Ned walked openly to the foot of the eucalypt and stood looking up into the branches. "Hey, you up there. Micky. Come down out of that," he called
There was silence.
Forrest called again, "Come on down we know you are there. Mr English, Mr Martin and Mr Beetson followed you here so we know where you are. Come down."
Again there was silence from the boy, but they could hear that he had moved a little.
"Give me the gun, Mr Forrest. I'll get the varmint down," said Mason. But Forrest kept a good hold of the weapon.
Ricky stood away from the tree and called, "Come on down Micky. You haven't a hope. All we have to do is wait and sooner of later you have to come. Come and talk it over and tell us what it's all about."
"Talk," said Mason indignantly. "Talk, Mr English. I'd like to bash 'im, getting us all upset, li
ke."
"Quiet, Mason. If you can't control yourself you can go home," Ned said quietly.
Beetson called, "Micky, you've got to come down, lad. We'll give you a fair hearing."
"For goodness sake have sense boy," called Mr Forrest. "If you don't I'll put a shot of birdshot up the tree."
There was movement now and they could hear the lad coming down. As he reached the last branch he looked down and said, "Will you listen, Mr English. Will you give me a fair hearing?"
"Yes, of course, Micky," said Ricky, "we want to know what all this is about."
He jumped from the branch and Mason ran forward to grab him before anyone could stop him. There was a scuffle and the boy tripped over a root. The gun went off and there was a deafening silence to follow. Then they all rushed forward to see what the damage was, but all was well for the gun had gone off harmlessly.
"For goodness sake, Mason, hold your horses. You could have caused an accident," Forrest said.
"Sorry, sir. But I wanted to get him before he got away," Mason said indignantly.
"He's not likely to go far with all of us here." Turning he saw a small boy clutching a shot gun that looked almost as big as he was. "Good heavens your only a child," he said.
"No I'm not," came the cheeky reply, "I'm fifteen."
"Well you don't look it, and if you are you should have more sense. What's all this about?" he asked. Then hesitating he added, "No don't tell me here. Lets all go to my house and talk it over there."
"Good idea, Mr Forrest," said Rob, and led the way to the horses. Micky unhitched the pony and hopped on it's back.
"'ere you, don' run orf. Grab 'im sir," said Mason.
"It's all right Mr Forrest, I won't run away. You said you'd give me a fair hearing," he said petulantly.
"And so we will, lad," Ned assured him. "We left our horses the other side of the fence, so come along. Rob, you get yours and follow through the gate and take Micky with you. We'll see you at the house."
Ned dismissed Mason and Jenson when he reached the house and waited for the others to come. There was a light on in the house and Ned was not surprised to find Nell waiting up with tea and scones. They all went into the kitchen and Ned motioned them to sit round the big pine table.
He looked down at the boy and shook his head, "You've caused us a deal of trouble young fellow. What an infernal pest you are."
Micky was a slight boy with a shock of red hair. He had a pleasant pixie-like expression and a great number of freckles all over his face. He certainly did not look like a murderer, but apparently that's what he had intended to be.
Nell put cups of tea down in front of everyone and had buttered a huge plate of scones. She obviously thought that men work better on a full stomach. She sat on a vacant chair and listened intently.
Micky sat with head bowed and said, "I'm sorry I have caused trouble."
"That's all very well, Micky, but what on earth were you thinking of?" asked Ricky. "Did you feel you wanted to rid the place of blacks? Come on, out with it."
"I hate them, Mr English. I hate them because they killed my parents," said Micky.
"I know where I've seen you before," said Nell. "You're Micky Macksfield, aren't you?"
"Yes," answered Micky.
"Macksfield?" queried Ned. "Are you are young Macksfield?"
Micky looked up as Ricky said, "Does the name mean anything to you, Mr Forrest?"
"Yes, it does," said Ned.
"It does to me, as well," said Rob. "I knew Macksfield well. I'm sorry Micky but I just didn't think. I always felt you were a bit familiar, but didn't think of you being Macksfield's son. Your not a bit like him but now I come to think about it you are the image of your mother. You see, my farm was next door to yours. Did you not remember me, Micky?"
"Well, I think I do, Mr Martin, but I was only very small when I left there," came the reply.
"What has that got to do with tonight then, young Micky?" asked Ricky.
Micky hung his head and refused to comment. But Rob was more forthcoming and asked, "Reprisals, Micky? Is that it?" he asked.
"They killed my parents, Mr Martin and I hate them," he shot out. "I hate them and I would do it again."
"Come on , that's no way to talk. Yes, your father was killed by some blacks but is that reason for taking it out on the ones that didn't?" asked Forrest.
"It must have been those, Mr Forrest. We are close enough here for it to have been them. Any way they're all the same."
"That they aren't, Micky, there are good and bad in any race. In any case I happen to know that these people near here had nothing to do with your father's death. That's right, isn't it Rob?" Ned turned to the man.
"Yes, it is sir," said Rob looking decidedly uncomfortable.
"They killed Ma too," burst out Micky.
Rob asked, "What makes you think that, lad?"
"'Cos Pa said, when I saw him last."
"Then what your father said, Mickey is wrong," Ned said quietly.
'I am sorry, Mr Forrest, but how would you know?" he contradicted.
"I know, son and so does Mr Martin, because we know exactly what happened to your mother, and I suppose I am a bit surprised that you uncle didn't tell you. But I suppose he thought that sleeping dogs ought to lie."
"Why? What do you mean, Mr Forrest?"
"I mean that your mother did not die from spears from blacks but from the way your father treated her."
"That's not true, Mr Forrest. It isn't true." The boy burst out.
"Yes, it is, Micky," said Rob Martin. "I was there and my wife sat with her while she lay dying. Your father ill-treated her, you know lad," he said softly. "That is why you were taken by your uncle as soon as your mother died. Your uncle didn't think you were safe with your father. He was a very devil when the drink was in him and was pretty hard to handle."
Micky burst into tears. A very hurt and mixed boy who was really little more than a child. Ricky, Beetson and Nell sat quietly looking with compassion at the boy; Nell knowing the whole story, and Ricky and Beetson astounded at what they were hearing.
"Your father's brother knew what he was like, son, and he wanted to give you a chance to have a good life. He was a good man, George Macksfield," Rob told him. "And to finish the story," added Rob, who turned to Ned and said, "I'd better tell him the lot, sir, for he won't feel free of the problem until he does."
"Quite right Rob, carry on," he said but first addressed Micky again. "Micky you know Mr Martin well enough to know that he wouldn't say what was not true. In any case I was involved, too, so I can verify what he says, and Mrs Forrest, too. Do you wish to hear more, or will we leave it for now?" he asked.
Nell leaned over and took Micky's hand hoping he would not reject it. He didn't. "All right, Mr Forrest. I'll listen, but I should have been told before."
"I imagine your uncle would have told you as soon as he saw fit but died so suddenly that he may not have had the chance. " Ned told him. "Would that be right? Go on Rob."
"Your father was drinking pretty heavily, Micky, and often didn't know what he was doing. He took to harassing the natives quite a bit and having pot-shots at them at times. One night it must have been too much for them and it was me who found him down at the river bank. His cows were bellowing and I could hear them from my place. I had often had to milk when he was unable and I just thought that it was the same as before, but he was dead and had been for some hours. I'm sorry Micky. I really am."
The boy sat quietly sobbing. Nell got up and made more tea. It is strange that in stressful moments how often one turns to tea, especially in the country kitchens of Australia where the tea seemed to relieve a strain even in the hottest weather. She made a cup of cocoa for Micky and placed it in front of him. "Drink that, laddie," she said, "We aren't going to talk any more tonight. You know the story now and I think you can ask anything more of Mr Martin another time. But I would suggest that you all go off home to your beds now."
"Yes, I think Mi
cky has had enough for tonight. Drink up your tea, lad. Ricky, would you come with me for a minute before you leave."
"Ricky and Ned turned to go from the room when Micky said, "Mr English, I am sorry I have been a trouble. But I didn't know. What will I do now?" he asked passionately.
"We'll talk about it tomorrow, Micky. Drink up and we'll go home," said Ricky.
Ned led Ricky out and turning to him he said, "We are in a fix now, Ricky. I have reported this, as you know, so I will have to tell them something. Also I think we'll have to do something about the blacks."
"Yes, that's been worrying me," said Ricky. "What do you suggest."
"Well, first I thought we ought to drag young Micky over to make reparation, but I think that might make matters worse, for Macksfield's name was mud about here, and I don't think Micky would be believed. You know, like father like son, that sort of thing. Then I thought, if I take you over tomorrow and tell them a little we can work on the story, assuring them that it won't happen again. The you can meet Durren and we can work on your part of the story for all its worth. What do you say?"
"Will it work, do you think, Mr Forrest?"
"Yes, I think it will. We have to protect all the women and children hereabouts and so a desperate deed needs a desperate solution. Will you come, boy?"
"Yes, of course. Like a shot."
"I know you were going home tomorrow. Can you put it off for a day?"
"Yes, I can and I will. I think what you suggest would work well," said Ricky. "It is as well that I have my part of the story to act out."
"Well, that's one way of putting it. Now I suppose you'd better take that brat home. I can't help feeling sorry for the kid, though. He had a very nice mother and an absolutely terrible father. It was gins he was after, you know. He used to use them and then toss them in the river. He did it once too often. Poor kid!"
"It's a pretty terrible story all round," said Ricky. "What about the police, though?"
"I daresay the best thing we can do is for me to drive you on your way on Monday into Windsor and sort it out then. They're pretty reasonable. If the boy had been pot-shotting whites there would be a lot more fuss, but some of these police think that getting a black or two doesn't matter. No wonder there are reprisals. One day they'll learn."
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