by Margaret Way
Dan, staring up, stumbled and Genny couldn’t help laughing. Dan laughed too, holding up his arms to all the living beauty around him. ‘This is kinda dazzling, isn’t it?’
‘That’s everyone’s reaction,’ smiled Genny. ‘The Outback is famous for its bird life. Gigantic flocks are commonplace. The Channel Country is a major breeding ground, especially for water birds. When all the channels and the billabongs are full, the birds move in in their countless thousands. They’re nomadic, they have to be, and they turn up overnight. The pelican colonies are the only ones you might have to go searching for. They nest in the remote swamps, but they come out when the waterholes start drying up.
There are huge flocks of ibis down in the lignum swamps; spoonbills, shags, herons, the whistling tree duck. They’re really wild and tremendously alert. All the perky little birds, the budgies and the finches and the wrens are so prolific not even the hawks and the falcons can finish them off.’
She continued, ‘If you want to come down to the river I can show you coolibahs covered in corellas like huge white flowers. I don’t know how they can even find a stand on a branch, there are so many of them.
If you clap your hands and startle them they fly off all together, leaving the tree green again. Then we have the glorious enamelled beauties, the parrots. We love our birds and protect them, but people like to pinch them, you know. They sell for quite a price overseas. It’s illegal, of course, to trap our beautiful parrots, but bird dealers make quick profits out of the constant demand for cage birds. The Golden Shoulder from Cape York Peninsula can fetch up to three thousand dollars in Europe. The fact that the bird is protected doesn’t seem to bother the smugglers. They drug the birds and get them out one way or the other. Some are caught. Nothing serious, just a threat to the survival of a bird of great beauty. I’d like to see anyone trying to trap our birds. Ingo would skin them alive.’
‘And that I can understand.’ Dan said, chuckling. ‘This is almost a sanctuary.’
‘Not almost. It is.‘ Genny said quite seriously, her small face shadowed by her black gaucho hat. In the shimmering dry heat, the mirage was skeining silvery lagoons across the flower-fringed plains. It was a sight that made Genny’s blood tingle, an entrancing vision that could ‘fill a man’s vision or crush him,’ Ingo had once said. In the good seasons, in the flower-scented air, it was Paradise itself, but this immense Eden could change into something frightful in times of drought. That Genny knew well. This was a land of harsh extremes, from the grim aridity of the desiccated plains littered with the bleached bones of dead cattle, to the jewel-like never-ending carpets of wild flowers that sprang miraculously from the red soil after the rain.
But whatever the setbacks, the searing tragedies of flood and drought and personal disaster, it was the end of the rainbow for the men like Ingo, descendants of the great pioneering families who had made monumental treks of distance and hardship, living with the land and gaining strength from it had become a tradition, with a man’s pride and sense of oneness with his environment very assured and apparent. The women went with their men, not so at home perhaps in such splendid isolation and surrounded by dangers, but they learned to accept this challenging way of life and very often came to love it. Others found the loneliness unbearable, the fear of sickness and accident, the life and death threats to their children without medical attention at hand. Two great innovations had changed all that-the Flying Doctor service and the huge radio service that linked up the vast outback. The School of the Air then came into operation, providing an education for the homestead children who weren’t sent away to the boarding schools in the cities. On the big stations that maintained light aircraft for their personal use, distance was conquered. Flying to one’s destination had become as everyday as the city’s commuter taking a bus or a train.
Dan was busy looking all about him, finding something of interest everywhere, his deep drawl and dry humour falling pleasantly on Genny’s ears. Station hands at work on their various jobs called a greeting to him with warmth in it and Dan returned it, taking for granted the nice, easy camaraderie common to the male of the species. In common, too, with the rest of the men, he wore jeans and a bush shirt and high stockman’s boots, the only difference being the creamy perfection of his ten-gallon hat. After about fifteen minutes down at the yards the Stetson began to look more realistic, speckled with red dust and adjusted to a more protective angle.
Genny was dressed for riding as well in jeans and an easy shirt in blue cotton denim with a red scarf tucked inside, the soft colour of her shirt matching the wide leather belt around her narrow waist. Her dark eyes were sparkling with youthful vitality, the healthy colour a soft bloom under her skin. Dan considered she looked perfect, comfortable and easy and unmistakably feminine. He would liked to have seen Felicity in just such a get-up. Actually he would have liked to have just seen Felicity. He found it hard to understand, but he couldn’t get Felicity off his mind. She was a most interesting woman and she looked barely more than a child.
‘Where’s Miss Felicity this mornin’?’ he asked artlessly.
Genny smiled, just waiting for the question. ‘Flick always sleeps late, and you’d never find her down here in any case. Not with all this dust flying and so much exhausting action.’
Dan studied her closely for a moment. ‘You don’t look very much like your mother.’
‘No contest,’ Genny said, still smiling.
‘I can’t think when I’ve seen two prettier women.’
‘Not even approximately, Dan?’ she teased.
‘Maybe on the screen. I’ll tell you one thing, Miss Felicity looks a girl.’
‘Doesn’t she now:’
‘Hope I didn’t bore her last night. I guess I talked and talked about just about everything.’
‘Flick’s a very good listener,’ agreed Genny.
‘You got it. A very understanding woman, and she looks a picture. Funny, being a bachelor for so long I usually tend to freeze in a woman’s company, but I never felt one jittery minute with your mother. God knows why I didn’t, but I didn’t. She being so beautiful and all, it kinda makes a man tongue-tied.’
‘I‘m sure you don’t need to worry about holding a woman’s attention, Dan. You’re a very interesting man.’
‘Can’tt shut me up in company. It’s just when I’m on my own. Being a bachelor has done that to me. My mother was eighty-eight when she died; she was my guiding star.’
‘Did she live with you, Dan?’
Dan nodded. ‘Yes, ma’am, and a wiser head I’ve never found. You’d have loved her. She used to glare at me and say: “Why the hell don’t you come home with a bride?” It used to annoy her that I was the only one of her flock not to raise a family of my own. Took practically all my time building up the ranch. I figure I’ll think about it now. Seems hardly fair now she’s gone.’
‘Keep a cool head, Danl’ Genny warned. ‘Marriage isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, really!’
‘And how would you know, miss?’ he asked.
‘I‘ve done a lot of observing!’ Genny said dryly, seeing from the expression on Dan’s face that he had indeed done all the talking the night before. It was Flick’s pattern to let a man get in too deep before she volunteered any information, like her three marriages. It seemed a pity to upset Dan’s plans, but Felicity was as irresponsible as a child. Love was always just around the corner and Dan had a right to be warned.
‘There nove.’ Dan moved a little closer, his face puzzled. ‘You being an only child you’d barely know anything else but a happy home life.’
‘That doesn’t follow, Dan. I’m afraid very many “only children” have an unsatisfactory time of it. Worse and yet worse, Dan, there’s quite a bit Flick hasn’t told you.’
‘Couldn’t be anything a woman like Miss Felicity would have to hide. ‘ he protested.
‘True, Dan, only one or two unusual things.’
‘Such as?’ Dan asked, smiling, and faintly talking down t
o her.
‘Flick’s been married three times.’
Dan flushed under his ruddy tan. and made a valiant bid to swallow whatever exclamation rose to his throat.
‘Yes, three times,’ Genny said calmly.
‘Whatever happened to all of them?’ Dan finally asked.
‘Two Flick divorced, the first my father, and the last one died. Maybe she would have stayed with Hughie for ever, but there you are, that’s what happened. Are you so very surprised?’
‘Yes and no,’ he admitted.
‘Is it going to make a difference, Dan?’ asked Genny. ‘I know you find Flick a very attractive woman.
She would have got round to telling you, of course.’
‘One marriage would be enough for me,’ Dan mumbled, rather stricken. ‘Sorry, sorry, no offence meant.’
‘And none taken, Dan. Perhaps you think I had no business telling you?’
‘No, no, I wanted to know. Miss Felicity never said a word.’
‘Well, you’ve only just met her, Dan, but sometimes a climax can come at the beginning. I just acted on impulse in telling you. You see, I have a feeling you may influence Flick’s life and I love her dearly.’
‘And what did… Hughie, was it, die of?’ Dan asked, almost speaking to himself.
‘Natural causes. Flick was devastated. She was really very fond of him, in fact she went so far down in health that she had me really worried. Ingo insisted she come out here to be looked after. He’s always looked after her.’
‘He’s a very refined gentleman,’ Dan said vaguely.
‘You look disappointed, Dan, shocked,’ said Genny.
‘No. You see, Genny, I like everything about your mother. Maybe not the fact that she’s had three husbands-any woman I married would have to stay well and truly put. I make no secret of the fact that she put the idea of settling down into my mind. I appreciate honesty.’
‘Dan,’ Genny said firmly, ‘Flick would have told you all the bits and pieces by herself, but you and I understand one another and I wanted you to be prepared. Flick is special, but she does need looking after and I’ve been doing that for quite a while. The events of her life are my life. I don’t want you to hurt her, nor do I want her to hurt you. It’s possible if we keep this our secret no one will be hurt. Flick can be very compelling…’
‘Like magic.’ Dan supplied. ‘Those innocent blue eyed ‘
‘They are innocent,’ confirmed Genny.
‘Maybe she never met the right man,’ he said thoughtfully.
‘She’s had more chance than most. Flirtation is a way of life to Flick. I suppose she would be like one of your southern belles. She’s fragile and tender and she wants only to be happy.’
‘Yes, she’s precious all right.‘ Dan said, resilient as a whip. ‘She lacks solidity, stability, and that the right man can supply.’
‘If you think so, Dan.‘ Genny said rather wearily, realising that the expression on Dan’s face was defying common sense. Well, she had done her bit. Flick wouldn’t have told him until he was well and truly hooked and Ingo wouldn’t have interfered in any way. Flick- had made another conquest-it was written all over Dan’s dreaming face. Time was as nothing when attraction occurred. Perhaps Dan would be the start of something big or he would fly away into oblivion. With her highly cultivated sixth sense, Genny was convinced that Dan was already written down in the pages of Flick’s diary. She shouldn’t worry, Flick was a grown woman, but she did. She had never liked merry-gorounds: They made her dizzy.
In the holding paddock Billy Swan, the half-caste horse-breaker, was herding his high-spirited, nervous charges. They raced in wide circles around the yard, churning up great clouds of red dust, their whinnies loud with fright and anger, their manes and tails streaming in the wind of their own unbridled motion.
Genny moved to the fence of the adjoining yard, climbed up on it and tucked her boots under the rails.
‘Sure you’re safe up there, honey?’ Dan asked.
‘I am until Ingo shows up.‘ she rejoined.
‘Where is he?’ Dan asked, joining her.
‘I‘ve no idea. Ingo gets up with the birds.’
‘So do I when I’m at home. Just look at that leader. He looks vicious. ‘
‘He sure does.’ Genny looked to where a big, high mettled wild horse, black in colour with a white blaze and one white sock, was whirling about, ready to break from the herd and charge Billy. Billy met this frightening dynamic charge with amazing calm, sidestepping neatly with a natural dancer’s grace, as he prepared to land a lasso around the brumby’s neck.
The rope fell with accuracy and the horse reared and bucked, then continued its mad careering around the yard with the slight Billy holding on for dear life to the rope that slid in lengths through his heavily-gloved hands. Separated from the mob, their leader was now selected to have his magnificent independence broken down; the rest of them driven back into the neighbouring yard, screamed defiance, urging their leader to resist and resist these ruthless humans.
‘It’s kinds sad, isn’t it?’ said Dan, the cattleman.
‘Billy’s good and he’s not cruel. He really loves those horses. That selfsame stallion is going to turn into a good working horse, strong and dependable.’ Genny shrugged. ‘I suppose it’s unnatural in a way to try and break his proud spirit. No wonder he looks so enraged.’
‘He’ll grow tired of it soon. Kinds like a kid in school.’
As Billy was working quite a few of the stockmen climbed up on to the fence to tell Billy to: ‘Watch it.’
After a minute or so Genny and Dan found themselves adding their cautions. Horse power was frightening. One kick from those flying hooves would settle Billy, yet he moved closer and closer to the terrified animal, slowly reaching out a hand and caressing its sweating neck. A stream of soft patter was issuing from his mouth, the most incredible mixture of English and dialect and indistinct swearing, all delivered at a low crooning chant. From the other side, Billy’s assistant Lofty, a predictable beanpole, moved as silently as any shadow, coming up with the bridle and manoeuvring it until like a miracle it was over the stallion’s head with the bit in its mouth..
‘The first step.’ said Dan quietly. ‘Probably it’ll chew on it like a baby with its dummy. ‘
True enough, instead of rearing madly, or trying to spit this strange object out, the stallion accepted the bit and began to chew rhythmically, exploring this not unpleasant new sensation. Billy continued patting and crooning while Lofty very stealthily began fixing the hobbling chains, rendering the animal almost powerless. Another minute more and the stallion tried to move its legs, apparently without suspicion that anything had been done to it. All hell broke loose.
Genny whipped off her silk scarf and tied it round her nose and mouth like a small bandit. The dust was flying as the stallion endeavoured to rear and buck, the chains clanging, its eyes savage and distended; it foamed at the mouth, starting to stumble around and around with the violence of impotence. Its brothers in the yard beyond wheeled and snorted and kicked up their hind legs, in sympathy.
‘That’s a very strong horse.’ Dan said unnecessarily.
‘I hope he’ll be quiet soon,’ answered Genny. ‘His heart must be fit to burst.’
Billy, awaiting just such a moment, was leaning nonchalantly back against the fence, smoking his pipe.
When the horse was exhausted, he closed in on the slobbering animal, patting it affectionately, calling it congratulatory names, then hauled the gear off before slapping it on the rump and sending it off through the gate Lofty opened into the fenced paddock beyond. ‘That’ll do ‘im for today. Send in the next one.’
Dan on the fence was curbing the wild urge to have a go himself. Though he had been handling horses all his life he had never used wild horses on his ranch. He could ride like a vaquero and he had ridden many a buck-jumper in his younger days. A thought occurred to him.
‘Ask Billy if he’s got one,’ he asked Genny sudd
enly.
‘Got what?’ she inquired.
‘A wild one. A mustang. I’ve got a powerful urge to ride one.’
‘Take it easy, boss.‘ Billy warned laconically, with ears that could hear a leaf drop.
‘You’re good, boy,’ Dan called, ‘but I’m not too bad myself. ‘
‘Come on then, Billy, what are you waiting for?’ Lofty yelled, looking up at the fence at Dan with some favour. Not a stockman among them would hesitate to expose themselves to outrageous danger in the name of entertainment, so Dan’s yen to ride a buck jumper didn’t seem at all out of the way. Still Billy hesitated, not so much thinking of Dan or possible injury but of what the Boss would say. He had a week to break in this mob, but he had a little time up his sleeve.. If the big Texan wanted a few thrills, why not? He just had to be a good rider coming from the part of the world. ‘Course he was a little old to take a bad spill, but no one could tell a man he was too old to try his hand at anything he fancied, least of all Billy. His liquid black eyes ranged over to the far yard searching out the piebald mare a contrary piece.
She looked like nothing, but she could deflate the toughest ego.
‘Don’t do anything foolish, Dan.‘ Genny counselled. Woman-like, she was unable to keep out of it.
‘What have.you got in mind, Billy?’ Dan asked, not even hearing her.
‘Only a little piebald somethin’. Wouldn’t attempt to ride ‘er meself, boss. ‘
‘Had a saddle on her?’ Dan asked.
‘Sure, it’s the riders that come off. Lofty, jus’ yesterday. She’s just naturally wild like all females. Maybe we’d better wait for the boss.’
‘Why, Ingo wouldn’t give a damn.‘ Dan exclaimed, slapping his thigh with satisfaction. ‘Why, he told me to treat the station like my own and I say I wanna ride.’