“Came from the man I saw today in Borroloola. I got the stones sent off to be made up just after Magnetic Island. When I first met you in Cairns I knew they were perfect for the colour of your eyes. After Cairns I hoped I might see you again. I decided that day, after we met on the dive boat, that if I did see you again they would be for you. So in Townsville after you left I arranged to have these made and sent to Borroloola where I could collect them.
Susan looked up and met his eyes. She felt herself drawn within his being, a meeting of spirits. There was such intensity in their connection, at first it had been just physical but now it was as if there was a bonding of their souls.
Her gaze flicked back down to the jewellery, then back at Mark. She was full of wonder and surprise. She felt tears prick her eyes, “Oh Mark you shouldn’t have; they’re beautiful.” She felt amazed that he’d made this decision on the very first day of their meeting, as if he had foreknowledge of what was to follow.
Mark took the box. He lifted her right hand, which was sitting in his lap, and tried the ring on her third finger.
The ring was a fraction too large, but she loved its elegant cut and the way it sparkled in the light. The stone seemed huge and yet it was balanced and perfect. Then Mark placed the gold chain over her head and let the second stone fall into place. It sat just at the top of the place where her breasts met, partly hidden under her top.
Mark said, “I think I need to see it in uninterrupted view.”
Susan nodded and lifted her arms above her head. “Undress me,” she whispered.
Mark lifted her top over her head, his fingers grazing her skin, then threw it somewhere behind him. Then standing he drew her to her feet and eased off her skirt, discarding this too. He kissed each breast, then the little blue stone, and then each breast again. When he was done he lifted her under the covers and covered her body with his. It was incredibly beautiful, their sense of togetherness, as much as the pleasure.
After, she asked absentmindedly what made him want to get her such an amazing gift.
He said, “At first just your eyes, but now, all of you. I want you to have something to remember me by, when you return home.” He paused, then added, “Maybe, we can find a way to meet and do this all again, to be together again.”
Sleepily she said. “I hope so, Mark, I really hope so.” Half dreamy she murmured “Together Forever.” Now Mark was saying with her, “Together Forever,” or was it a dream.
It was still dark when Mark shook her awake. “Hate to disturb your sleep, but we’ve a long way to go today.”
They packed quickly and left the roadhouse. Nothing was stirring in the tourist parts, but a couple of workers were tidying up out the back. In five minutes they were away and driving west. Mark explained they were heading for Timber Creek and the Victoria River tonight, passing through Top Springs and the Victoria River District, his own favourite piece of cattle country. It was a long, long drive, so he wanted to get most of it out of the way before midday. He said they aimed to be in Top Springs for lunch, a mere five hundred kilometres away.
They shared the driving. He drove for the first hour while she fully woke up. Then he gave her the wheel. Susan drove until they reached the Stuart Highway, two hours later. They stopped at the Daly Waters Hotel, just near the junction, where they took on fuel for the car, and two plates of bacon and eggs for themselves.
After their late breakfast they headed south, which surprised Susan. She’d had the impression that they were en route north. Mark explained they had to first go south, back towards Alice Springs, in order to pick up their road out to the west.
It was less than half an hour’s drive before they reached this road. The sign read Buchanan Highway but Mark explained that the locals called it the Murranji Track, on account of it being an old drover’s route to Queensland from the Victorian River District and the Kimberley. It was only two hundred kilometres long, but was known as one of the toughest droving routes. It had long waterless stretches; poor feed; patches of dense dangerous timber called lancewood, due to their spear like trunks which could impale both man and horse; and often the cattle would get spooked in the night and rush, “Yanks call it a Stampede,” Mark added.
Despite the shorter distance, it felt like a much longer trip to Top Springs than the first leg. They tried to talk but, as there was no roadside scenery, they had little of local interest to discuss. The noise of the vehicle bouncing and shaking made wider conversation difficult.
Despite this, Susan sat contented; she was happy to be in Mark’s company. She had taken the ring from her finger and slipped it on the gold chain round her neck. She hadn’t wanted to take it off, but she was fearful that it would slide off her finger, and get lost. She liked the feeling of it hidden beneath her shirt, sitting snug between her breasts. It was both private and possessive.
At last they left the scrub behind. The country opened out into grassy plains, with low hills on the horizon.
Mark enthused, “This is the start of the VRD, Victoria River District. It runs from here out to Western Australia, and down to the desert. It’s named from its river, which starts in the desert and runs north to the sea.
“For me it’s God’s own country. The place, where God said, after he’d made the rest of the world, ‘Now give me a space for man and beast, where the grass is good, the water is sweet, the fish are big, and the hills look over.’”
Susan looked at him and smiled, “So a man of poetry as well as many other things.’’
“Not my strongest talent I admit,” he grimaced.
At Top Springs they were met by a crusty old bartender who clearly knew Mark well. He flicked Mark’s hat as he walked inside and grinned at him.
“What no fuel to buy?” he said to Mark.
“Here! You must be joking, you will rob me blind,” replied Mark, laughing.
“You must think we are still in old Ma Hawke’s days,” the barman said.
“Anyone who trained under her must be like her,” Mark responded. It was good-natured banter.
Over lunch the stories emerged about the infamous, Ma Hawke. Susan was in fits of laughter, hard to believe most of them, though the old bartender swore to their authenticity.
Mark backed him up. “Not that I knew her myself, but I have talked to too many old-timers who knew her, for it all to be made up.”
The stories ran on and on. “What about the one where she tried to sell a Stock Inspector 300 litres of petrol, from the pump, even though his fuel tank only held 240.”
“What about the time when she died and they called the local cops out from Wave Hill. Everyone knew there must be a money stash. Sure enough the cops said they found ten grand under her bed. Trouble was, next day after they went back to the Wave Hill Police Station, one of the cop’s own dogs dug up money buried in his back yard. A blackfella saw the notes blowing in the wind and thought it was Father Christmas.
“Turned out that cop pocketed another fifteen grand. When he saw the money in the wind he fessed up. But his mate didn’t, said he knew nothing about any extra money and stuck to his story and a search couldn’t find it. Even though the first cop said the other had taken his own share he wouldn’t cough up the dough. So the honest one got the boot. A year later I saw the honest one on the bones of his arse while his mate lived in a nice new flash house.”
After reminiscing for another while, Mark flicked his head. “One to carry,” he said, ordering another beer for them both. The old bartender passed two over.
Mark went to pay. The bartender shook his head. “On the house. It’s good to tell the tales with someone who remembers. I know you came from the city one time, but you’re one of us now, the stories are in your blood.
“The old-timers around here say you have a crocodile spirit they can see in the dusk, when only the shadows dance.”
Susan felt goose bumps run down her arms and spine. She couldn’t imagine this hard-bitten old bushie bartender saw ghosts. But there was something in h
is tone that told her he could see over the horizon to the other side. She shivered.
Mark broke the mood. “Well old fella, thanks mighty for the drinks and yarn. Tell me who is working on the VRD?
“Well,” said the man, “everyone is pretty flat strap as you know. But this morning a big lot of trucks came through from Katherine, gone to collect a big shipment of steers to load on the cattle boat from Darwin tomorrow. Hear tell they’re putting them together on VRD Station. They say the numbers have come up short and they’ve cut an expensive deal with Humbert River Station to make up the load. I heard tell they’re walking a mob down the Wickham Gorge today.”
The bartender paused, “Don’t know if you know it, but tis tiger country up there. Lots of scrubbers in them hills. I reckon they’re likely to have trouble. You looking for a job?”
Mark winked, “Not today, hands a bit full as you can see.”
The bartender gave Susan a piercing look, “You be real careful, he’s full of charm, but there’s a wild place there too, danger goes with him.” Then he said seriously. “But you’ll be right, a guardian angel watches over you. I know I’ll see you again sometime, maybe when his spirit returns to the crocodiles.”
Susan felt an edge to his words that made her squirm.
But Mark waved him away. “Ah, go way with you old man, don’t be frightening the lass. I’ll take good care of her.”
“Sure, and isn’t that the nub of the problem,” he replied.
It was such a strange conversation that Susan burst out laughing. “I could swear you are all mad Irish here, such superstition as I have never heard.”
The barman winked at her. “Well isn’t me name O’Reilly, as was my Dad’s before.” Then he doffed his hat. “Will be seein’ ye agin.”
Susan couldn’t help laughing back, “Well I hope so.”
Walking out the door the man’s reply followed her. “To be sure, to be sure, tis written.”
Chapter 14 – Out on the VRD – Day 26
As they drove off Mark said, “We’re a bit later than I meant. But it is hard to get away when the old man gets to telling stories; he knows them all and at least half are true. The blackfellas around here tell me he’s a bit fey and sees spirits. Me, I think the only spirit he sees comes from the inside of a bottle with Johnny Walker written on it.”
An hour later Mark and Susan came over a ridge. In front of them the air was full of dust. There were buildings and yards, and men on horses, and a couple choppers working, along with bull catchers pushing a mob of cattle up a laneway. Over to one side sat six big trucks with double-deck stock crates, each pulling two trailers. Another truck was pulled up to a loading ramp and people were pushing cattle up the ramp into it.
“Well it is a big day today,” said Mark to Susan, “all go at the home station. This below is VRD, properly known as Victoria River Downs Station, same name as the district. Once it was the largest cattle station in the world, before they broke it into four separate parts. VRD is one of my favourite places, and today is a good day to come, even if it is a bit busy. I thought you might like to see some real cattle station action.”
Susan nodded, happy to go along.
Mark continued, “A mighty river runs through this area, the Victoria River, which we’re going on tomorrow. Pity its pushing three o’clock, I had planned for the full afternoon here, but I didn’t know what was on. Plenty it seems. Let’s go over, say hello and see if they want a hand. The manager here is a good friend of mine.”
They parked near the yards, and walked across. Most people were busy but a truckie was leaning on the rail, watching as they loaded cattle onto a truck.
“Hi there,” said Mark, sticking out his hand, “I think I met you at Anthony’s Lagoon last year.”
The bloke stuck out his own hand and shook Mark’s, “Bill. Yeah I remember those big mad bullocks for Queensland, fresh out of the swamp. They were a handful.”
Mark indicated to the trucks and yard, “Big lift eh?”
“Yeah,” said the driver, “S’posed to go on that flash new cattle boat, the one that takes five thousand in a go, off to Indonesia, loading Darwin tomorrow. VRD promised fifteen hundred, but I hear they might be a couple hundred shy, they say that they were two hundred short when they mustered the Moolooloo Back Paddock. Still bringing some up from Sanford, as well as a mob of extras from Humbert River; actually one truck may have to go over there to load.” Susan recalled the barman describing the same thing earlier. “Anyway we’re all supposed to load tonight and be in the wharf in Darwin for unloading in the morning. Looks like it’ll be a long night of driving. Thank God I am at the front of the queue. These ones at the back will be lucky to be away by ten tonight and that doesn’t leave much time for sleeping. I’m lucky to be looking forward to a good four hours kip at the wharf before the boat loading starts in the morning.”
“Mark!” Came a shout from behind them, a man hurried over that clearly knew Mark, “Bloody glad to see you” he said happily, shaking Mark’s hand.
“You too, how’s it goin’?” asked Mark.
“It’s been one of those days, cock-up after cock-up. Still, we’ll just manage, somehow. Maybe you came specially to help; God knows I need someone to put a shoulder to the wheel.”
Seeming to only just notice Susan, the man turned to her and said, “Well, he always was the last to introduce me to the lovely ladies, thinks I might pinch them, even though I got my own missus who is more than enough for me. Buck is the name and I am trying to run things around here.”
Susan put out her hand to shake, “I’m Susan.” She appreciated the man’s directness, he reminded her a bit of her father: total focus, no nonsense and straight to the point.
Buck smiled and turned to Mark, “We’re short and I cut an expensive deal to get more steers from Humbert. Trouble is that they were in that paddock in the far back corner and Humbert stock camp had other work and couldn’t muster them.
“It meant I had to send over a stock camp to do the mustering ourselves. All was going well at first; we’d put the mob together and were walking it back. We decided to use the Wickham Gorge way; you know that rough stony track? But there’s a road for the truck bringing the stores and lots of good fresh feed along the river, so the cattle should have full bellies, going over the weighing scales in Darwin. We had three hundred good sappy steers, just an ideal size. I knew we were short about two hundred and a hundred as spares is handy.
“Anyway, it was going well until this morning, we had maybe fifteen k’s to go till we cleared the gorge and got back into the open country near this end. Then a mongrel scrub bull got in amongst them, and stirred them all up.”
From the frustration in Buck’s voice, Susan figured this was a bad thing. She couldn’t quite follow all the cattle talk conversation, but Buck was easy to read.
Buck went on, “I hear he’s that one that busted away when they did the clean-up in there last year, a big horny red bull, with a big scar on his nose. The head stockman tells me you know him well, as you helped with that job.”
Mark said “Yeah, I should have shot him then, but he’d do near a thousand bucks on the boning room floor, so I let him go, thought he was next year’s pocket money.”
Buck replied, “Well he’s got the bullet now, but not before he split the mob, gone every which way, but at least they’re still in the gorge.
“Then, just for good measure, one of the young ringers, trying too hard to put them back together, got spat off his horse and busted his arm, bad break. So then we had to pull off the chopper that was putting the mob back together and bring our man out. We called in the Flying Doctor, and it’s collected him from the homestead, just now. So now it’s all go again, but we are down a good man and the day is near gone.
“The agent in Darwin tells me that the boat won’t finish loading until the next morning, day after tomorrow. So, if we can get them to the Humbert Station yards and get them loaded tomorrow, we should still be OK.
“One good thing is the mob’s been left to settle along the river. With a good feed and drink they should be a bit easier to work now. So I am just getting two choppers organised to go and put the steers back together and get them moving again. I would go myself, but I need to stay here to keep the loading on track.
So, I need a couple spotters to ride with the choppers, if you’ve got the time. It helps to have a second pair of eyes when the pilot is working in that gorge, as you well know. Since you helped with the clean up last year, you know that country better than me. What are your movements anyway?”
“Well,” said Mark, “just on my way to Timber Creek, job on the river tomorrow, but my afternoon is free. So now I am your spotter, lead me to the chopper. That’s assuming that Susan can ride in the other.”
“My plan in one,” said Buck. “There will be grub up in the mess when you come back and a bed for the night, if you want it. I’ll probably be here till at least nine to get the loading finished. I’ll need to find myself a new job tomorrow morning if there’s any more stuff ups from here.”
Then he asked, “How important is that job on the river tomorrow, can you put it back? Really need an extra in the stock camp to bring those steers along, they were a bit short before, I should have sent one more. But you know how it is, finding enough men for each job, when the pressure is on. But now that they are down one more, it will be a real handful to manage the mob, at least till they come out of the river gorge and make the open going.”
Then Buck turned to Susan, “Don’t suppose you can ride?”
“A bit,” she said.
Buck looked back at Mark inquiring.
Mark answered, “I had a feeling that something like this would come along. I should have been here by late lunch. But you know how they get you in with the stories at Top Springs. I reckon we can fit it in. Just need to be on my way by lunch tomorrow to get out and have an hour or two on the river before dark.
Crocodile Spirit Dreaming - Possession - Books 1 - 3 Page 15