Sooner than Alice expected, Jeremy’s approach was heralded by the distant yapping of Ace. She cringed. She hated dogs that barked at the cattle. The sound was coming nearer quickly, suggesting that the cows Jeremy had found were running. If they came thundering into the middle of her nice settled mob at the dam all hell could break loose.
Alice rode a little way back up the rise and soon spotted a fast-approaching cloud of dust. There were about thirty head and she could just see Jeremy behind them, galloping flat out on poor old Rita. He managed to get alongside them, obviously with the intention of overtaking and slowing the mob before they reached the dam. But a few of them broke out on the opposite edge, heading off at a tangent. Alice recognised a brindle cow with one horn leading the deviants away – she had given them trouble last time.
Ace was onto them and succeeded in making them go faster. Alice winced. The rest of the cows and calves were now veering off course to follow the escapees. Jeremy was after them again; by galloping out wide, he managed to get around in front. The animals slowed and spun before taking off in the right direction again. Ace was on their heels, yapping, and they were approaching fast. Alice steeled herself for action but the brindle mono-horn had no intention of playing the game. Off she went again, this time out in the opposite direction. The little mob dispersed and half of them followed her, the rest continuing towards the dam.
Alice signalled to her dogs to stay with the herd at the dam, then she headed off towards Jeremy and the troublesome bovines. This time he went after One Horn and was soon racing alongside her. Once he’d edged in front he suddenly jerked on Rita’s head with the intention of bringing her around to block the brindle beast. But the old mare wasn’t accustomed to such heavy-handedness, and as she spun, her feet slid out from under her. She came down hard on her side, just as Alice arrived on the scene.
One Horn continued without altering her course, and the rest of the cows mobbed up again and followed her. Jeremy was back on his feet before the mare, having rolled free of her as she came down. He was too busy swearing at the unfortunate horse to hear Alice’s concerned enquiry. ‘Jeremy, are you alright?’
Rita clambered to her feet, her sides heaving and her foamy lather of sweat caked in dirt on one side. Jeremy jumped straight back into the saddle, with the clear intent of continuing the pursuit.
‘Wait!’ Alice called. ‘I’ll get them. You go and hold the mob at the dam.’
‘Not bloody likely. I’m not letting that fat brindle—’
Alice interrupted him impatiently. ‘Jeremy, it’s just a cow, don’t take it personally. Rita’s knocked up.’
‘Give me your horse then.’ Jeremy was glaring after the departing cows and calves.
‘Never. Just go to the dam and wait.’
‘You reckon you’ll do better than me?’ He looked at her challengingly.
‘Yes.’ Alice met his eyes frankly.
He clearly hadn’t been expecting such a direct reply. He raised his eyebrows at her and his aggressive posture relaxed. ‘Righto then – in that case, I’d better do what I’m told.’
Alice started off after the departing cows at an easy canter, slowing to a trot, then a walk. She was in no hurry. The Bennet sisters saw her moving off and silently deserted their posts to go after her. Alice knew the cows would be heading for the shady camp that she and Jeremy had stopped at earlier that morning. The little mob was a long way off now, strung out in a line and still going at a decent pace. The last thing they needed was more pressure from behind. As she’d expected, once they reached the clump of trees they pulled up in the shade, blowing heavily. Alice turned off to the side, her plan to go in a wide semicircle rather than approaching them directly.
As she rode slowly towards them the cattle lifted their heads to watch her warily. She stopped where she was and cast her dogs to skirt wide around behind the little mob. When they were still a long way out from the cattle, she made them drop. Girl, horse, dogs and cows remained stationary for several minutes. The cows eyed the stealthy dogs in the grass and shifted nervously before turning their attention back to Alice. Once she could see that all eyes were back on her, Alice turned and began to ride back towards the dam.
Jeremy had shaken his head in disgust as he watched Alice’s time-wasting tactics. After all his hard work the silly sheila was going to lose them. Eventually she’d disappeared from sight. He’d obviously have to go and bail her out shortly. He walked Rita back towards the dam and the waiting mob.
A short while later, he turned and stared in amazement. Alice was in the lead with the cattle a short distance behind her. The dogs were bringing up the rear. There was no noise and all of them were walking in an orderly fashion. But what Jeremy found most astounding was that the leading cow was none other than the brindled she-devil One Horn. Alice led the cows over the rise and then veered off to one side. The little mob began to trot as they descended to join the bigger herd, causing only a minor ripple as they were absorbed into it.
Alice signalled to Jeremy to wait while the cows settled again. He didn’t think much of all this waiting, but as he watched the small, self-assured figure on horseback on the other side of the mob he wondered whether perhaps there was something in it after all. At last, she nodded across at him and set off in front of the cows towards the yards. There was nothing for Jeremy to do but follow along at the tail with Ace, and with the busy Bennet sisters skirting around him, he almost felt as though he was in the way.
With the cows safely yarded, Jeremy and Alice sat in the shade for a cup of tea and some of Olive’s chewy chocolate walnut slice. Jeremy examined Alice with a new respect as she sat stroking Kitty’s head, an absent-minded frown on her face.
‘What’re you stewing over?’ he asked.
She looked up quickly. ‘Oh, I’m just thinking about Pa. I hadn’t realised until just lately that he’s an old man.’
‘It’s a bugger, eh, old age.’ Jeremy sipped his tea then continued, ‘Here I was thinking you were wondering how much you’d impressed me this morning with your cow-charming act. You made me look like a right duffer.’ He couldn’t keep the admiration out of his voice.
‘Oh.’ Alice looked slightly surprised. ‘I wasn’t trying to impress you,’ she said simply. ‘They were going to get away.’ She went back to stroking her dog.
Jeremy regarded her closely and saw that what she said was true. Unlike all the other girls he knew, Alice had little concern for what he thought. She didn’t want or need his good opinion. She was amazingly self-contained for a chick. He found her strong-headedness both fascinating and unsettling. It seemed she was largely immune to the power of approval or disapproval from anyone but her grandparents.
Looking at her balanced so lightly on the log, with such quiet authority over her dogs, Jeremy was intrigued. He was visited by a sudden ridiculous vision of one of the bikie gangs that occasionally roared into town for lunch at the pub. They sported matching black jackets with the slogan Free Spirits emblazoned across their backs. The bold white script was bordered by feathery angel’s wings. Jeremy looked sideways at Alice again. Free spirit.
Then she spoke, jerking Jeremy back to reality. ‘Never mind about the cows, Jeremy. I had the advantage of knowing where the camp was. And I had the dogs. Branding’s next and you can have the pleasure of outdoing me there – by a long way.’ She looked at him, her pensive expression replaced suddenly by her unpredictable smile, and he felt his face redden. Blimey, he thought in dismay, it’d been years since he’d blushed.
Chapter 8
As the week drew to a close, Jeremy decided to head into town for some serious partying. He left in the early afternoon on Friday, taking the time to drop in to the kitchen to wish a stony-faced Olive a personal farewell.
‘Don’t lie awake worrying about me, Mrs Day. I’m a big boy now.’ He flexed his muscular arms at her and grinned before bounding out the door, whistling at the cockatoo as he thudded down the veranda steps.
It was the first
weekend since he’d been employed at the station that Jeremy had gone to town, and the three Redstoners all found themselves thinking how quiet it was without him. None of them admitted it out loud, and the word Olive used to describe it to herself was ‘peaceful’. But they all realised that in the short time he’d been at Redstone, Jeremy had somehow become an important part of the place. By Sunday, Sam was eagerly awaiting his return, and even Olive was feeling more kindly towards the useful larrikin.
In the early hours of Monday morning the roar of an unfamiliar engine shattered the pre-dawn tranquillity of Redstone. It wasn’t his ute but Jeremy was driving. He swerved and pulled up roughly near the big old house; as he did so, there was a woody clunk in the back, followed by a groan.
‘Yep, that’ll be his head,’ he told himself brightly. He bounced up onto the dark veranda like an excited schoolboy and yelled, ‘Surprise! Rise and shine!’
A tirade of indignant muttering issued forth from under the navy-blue-and-white-striped flannelette cover on the tall birdcage. King Henry the Ninth had been rudely awoken and was highly affronted.
Seconds later the veranda light came on and Alice appeared in her cotton pyjamas. ‘Jeremy, you’re not doing yourself any favours by—’
‘Not so fast, Ali Baba, not so fast. Check out what I found on the side of the road.’ He nodded towards the dented ute stopped on the edge of the veranda light, its huge spotlights reflecting beams back at them.
‘That’s not your ute,’ Alice said suspiciously. Then, seeing the bunch of dingo scalps drying on the kangaroo rack, she added, ‘It belongs to the travelling shooter Pa gets when he’s in the area.’
‘Fair dinkum? You mean Sam lets him come here? That useless piece of pig bait?’
‘Maurie always rings to let us know before and after he’s been. Pa says he does a good job.’
‘Too bloody true! Have a squiz at what’s in the back.’
Jeremy followed Alice as she walked tentatively over to the vehicle and leaned in to look past the empty dog cage. Lying on his side, looking up at her, arms and legs tied together with rope, was Maurie the shooter. He was wedged between the tailgate and one of two clean-skin calves that were tied in a similar fashion. Alice gave a little squeal and jumped backwards.
‘That one drew the short straw,’ said Jeremy, indicating the calf that was pressed against Maurie. ‘Your shooter here don’t smell so good. What do you think of my catch?’
‘Pa will be so upset!’ Alice sounded shocked. ‘I’m glad you caught him though.’
Jeremy enthusiastically accepted the praise. ‘That saying’s so true – you know, the one about getting your biggest catch when you ain’t even hunting? I usually use it for women, but it applies in this case too.’ He laughed at his own joke but Alice was frowning distractedly.
‘What is it now?’ barked Olive, striding out onto the veranda.
King Henry the Ninth began clearing his throat. Olive had taken the time to don her floral dressing gown and put a hairnet over her curlers.
‘Where’d you spring from, Curly?’ Jeremy greeted her. ‘We’re just admiring the roadkill here.’
‘Roadkill?’
‘Well, he’s not completely dead . . . yet. He might even be well enough to appreciate all the effort you’ve gone to with your appearance.’ He grinned and Olive flushed angrily.
‘Whatever it is, you had better hope it’s worth waking the household over. I told Sam to stay in bed. He’s been having a terrible night with his back. And as I expected it’s nothing important, just you coming home from a drunken orgy.’
‘I don’t think you wanna use that word no more, m’lady. It don’t mean what it did in your day.’
‘Oh, shut up!’ Olive had lost her cool and the cockatoo was beginning to cough.
‘Righto then.’ Jeremy held up his hands. ‘Just trying to save you from future embarrassment. And I s’pose if this isn’t important, I’ll just untie our furry poddy-dodging friend and let him drive away. Shall I get the calves out of the back first?’
‘Get me out of here, you bastards!’ A forlorn plea came from inside the shadow of the ute tray.
Olive’s eyes widened. ‘I’ll go and get Samuel.’
‘No rush, he ain’t going nowhere.’ Jeremy chuckled as Olive hurried back inside.
He looked at Alice. In the dim light her messy hair reminded him of a bird’s nest. Or a halo. He could see the imprint of a fold of linen on her cheek, and the slight silvery trace of a bit of saliva. He wanted to kiss her, she was so beautiful. But instead he said, ‘You wanna take a leaf out of your old ma’s book. She must’ve learned at finishing school, you gotta check your face for dribble before rushing outside after a sleep.’
‘Very funny.’ Alice felt around her mouth for the telltale line.
‘Here, let me help you.’ From his pocket Jeremy produced a filthy checked hanky with a J embroidered on it and spat on the corner.
‘You come near me with that and I’ll clobber you!’ Alice backed away with her fists up.
‘What, I got germs or something?’
‘Probably. How do I know what you’ve been kissing over the weekend?’
Jeremy detected a note of genuine disgust in Alice’s voice and it stung him. She turned and walked away towards the door to meet Sam who had finally surfaced. The old man was half bent over with his hand on his lower back.
‘Fuzzy’s in for it now,’ Jeremy said, his tone foreboding.
‘Are you drunk, Jeremy?’ Sam asked, pain from his back sounding in his voice.
‘No, Sam.’
‘Good lad. Tell me what’s going on.’
Jeremy explained, loudly enough so the captive in the back of the ute could hear it all too. Driving home in the starlight, with only his ute’s parking lights to illuminate the road, Jeremy had encountered Maurie coming from the opposite direction. They had met on a bend and the edgy Maurie had swerved, overcorrected and then locked up his wheels on the bulldust. ‘Damaged the poor old-man ironbark,’ Jeremy concluded.
‘So what then?’ Sam asked.
Jeremy went on and Sam’s expression became increasingly grave at the description of what had been discovered in the back.
‘I could have told you he was a bad bugger if you’d mentioned it to me,’ Jeremy said gently. ‘It’s pretty common knowledge around town.’
‘Maybe among your associates,’ Olive said defensively, taking Sam’s arm.
‘So the whole time . . .’ Sam left the sentence unfinished.
‘I think you’ll notice an improvement in your calving rate from now on.’
Sam hobbled slowly over to the ute and looked down at Maurie sorrowfully. Jeremy could see that he was more upset about having to lower his opinion of someone he’d trusted and liked than about the crime committed against him.
‘Soft old codger,’ he thought to himself. ‘If they were my calves I’d wanna snig the bloke out back and chuck him down the well.’
‘What shall we do with him?’ As always, Olive was was concerned with the practicalities.
‘Morning’s not far off. And the stock squad should be here by lunchtime. I say leave him where he is,’ suggested Jeremy.
‘Sam, get me out of here! I swear I won’t cause any trouble. Please!’ Maurie begged in his reedy wail, staring pleadingly at Sam.
But it was Jeremy who answered him. ‘Things have changed round here, Fuzzy Chops. Not everyone on the place is in bed by seven thirty anymore. Hell, I’m so unreliable you could find me on the road at any time of night. Especially if I’ve been entertaining a lady. And as you saw for yourself, my headlights are dodgy, so I’ll see you long before you see me.’
‘It won’t happen again, I swear! I’ll never set foot on the place again. No need to dob a man in, is there? Just get me out of this agony!’ Maurie appealed to Jeremy this time.
‘I wouldn’t piss on ya if you were burning, mate.’ Jeremy turned to the others and continued, ‘I reckon we’ll leave him here to do a bit o
f penance. Give him a gutful of his own medicine.’
‘Nooooo!’ Maurie strained on the rope.
There was a short silence. ‘He can’t stay in that position for too much longer,’ Alice observed compassionately.
Taking up the suggestion, Jeremy asked Maurie, ‘Would you like a change of position, mate? You’ve done the calf thing – I could hang you like a roo from your rack? I’d scalp you if I could get ten bucks for your fluff. But I don’t think anyone’d be keen.’
‘Please, Alice, I’m dying here.’ Maurie made his best puppy-dog eyes at her.
But Jeremy answered again. ‘While you’re there, Fuzz, you can think about how many poddies you’ve lifted from a trusting old stick that was doughy enough to believe you were doing him a favour.’
‘I’m sorry!’ Maurie groaned.
Then, looking at Alice’s troubled face, Jeremy unexpectedly produced his pocket knife and cut the old piece of rope that was binding Maurie’s ankles. Next he swung the weedy little man onto his feet. Maurie tottered there for a moment before crumpling to the ground with what looked like a severe attack of pins and needles.
King Henry the Ninth was coughing in earnest now. Maurie looked around for the source of the rattling cough, and his eyes rested disbelievingly on the covered birdcage. The coughing episode reached its climax at last and the phlegm was brought up. Silence fell again. The Redstone folk were all still looking down at Maurie. He looked pathetically weak and thin, his moth-eaten whiskers sticking out on each side of his face.
‘What’re you doing with all that stolen meat anyway, Fuzz?’ Jeremy asked. ‘Not eating it yourself, that’s for sure. Need a good worming, I reckon.’
Redstone Station Page 6