by Mark Smith
‘We need to eat,’ I say.
Darkness falls and we eat in silence. Willow sits between us but Kas and I steal glances at each other. It’s our first real argument.
‘All right,’ Kas says.
‘All right, what?’ I say.
‘All right, let’s go down and check out the valley. See what’s going on. We’re just checking it out though, not doing anything stupid.’
‘Okay.’ I let this sit for bit. I don’t want her changing her mind.
A smile creeps across Willow’s face.
‘I don’t think we all need to go, though. We don’t know what we’ll find. I think I should go on my own first,’ I say.
I expect Kas to argue but she agrees right away. ‘I’ll wait here with Wils and Rowdy. If there’s any trouble, give us the bird call. And here,’ she says, holding the rifle out to me, ‘take this.’
‘Nope. I can move better without it. And if I get caught, at least you’ll have it.’
Again, she doesn’t argue. Willow is sticking close to me.
‘Don’t worry, Wils. I’ll find them,’ I say.
She hugs me. ‘Be careful,’ she says, her voice muffled against my jumper.
I turn to go but Kas grabs my arm. ‘Don’t be a hero, okay,’ she says.
I can’t take a chance on moving in the open, so I walk along the fence until I’m above the cluster of sheds behind the houses. The shearing shed is the closest but I can’t get to it without crossing about fifty metres of paddock. I slide through the lower strands of wire and start my dash for the cover of the buildings. But I’m only halfway down the hill when a herd of cows appear out of the dark. They spook immediately, bellowing and taking off towards the shed. Worst of all, they have bells around their necks! Suddenly the valley is filled with the sound of their clanging.
Shit, shit, shit!
The door of the nearest house, Harry’s place, flies open and I see two figures on the porch, both with rifles. One darts back inside and comes out with a lamp. Then they open a gate and walk up the hill towards me. The cows have settled a bit and are ambling towards the sheep yards in the corner of the paddock. I hide myself as best I can among the herd, moving with them.
The two men are no more than ten metres away. Luckily, the lamp doesn’t throw much light. If they had a torch with a beam, they’d spot me straightaway.
‘You see anythin’?’ one says.
‘Can’t see a f-fuckin’ thing. P-probably one of them w-wild dogs Fenton saw l-last week.’
‘Could be.’ He sounds unconvinced. ‘Don’t reckon it’d have a go at a cow, though. Sheep maybe.’
‘Well, th-they’ve s-settled now. And it’s c-cold out here.’ He turns and starts to walk back towards the house.
The other one has the lamp. He steps closer and the cows fidget and move. He holds the lamp higher and lifts his head to peer into the dark. He’s not just looking, though; he’s listening. I’m pressed up against the side of one of the cows, holding my breath.
Finally he lowers the lamp and turns back towards the house.
‘Better let Rat know, I s’pose,’ he calls to the other man, who’s already at the gate.
Rat is here! I can’t believe what I’m hearing. If Rat’s here, maybe Ramage is too.
I wait until the door closes before I walk slowly and carefully to the sheep yard fence. There’s a maze of small pens and gates that lead to the back of the shearing shed. The sliding door we saw the prisoners pushed through is off to the left, at the top of a wooden ramp. It’s too exposed, so I make my way through the yards until I can crawl under the shed, which is half a metre off the ground. The flooring is solid but I guess that the holding pens inside the shed will have slats.
I know when I reach the right spot because the sheep shit is piled knee high. Fortunately it’s pretty dry. I find a place where I can sit and lean against a steel support.
There are voices above where I’m sitting. My problem is I don’t know whether there are guards in the shed or not. It’s not likely with the locked door but I can’t be sure.
There’s a rusty squeak above my head as a door opens. Heavy boots take a couple of steps onto the slats and, before I realise what’s happening, piss starts streaming down onto my leg. I roll to the side but my foot catches on a loose piece of barbed wire. The pissing stops but the boots above my head don’t move. I hear the zipping of a fly but no movement for at least a minute. I’m frozen to the spot, holding my breath. The barbed wire has cut my ankle and blood trickles into my boot.
The slats creak as the man lowers himself onto his hands and knees.
‘Is someone there?’ he whispers.
My body is shaking. I consider sitting up, removing the loop of wire and getting out of here. Running.
‘I can see your leg,’ the voice says. ‘Who are you?’
Time seems to stall then. I’m too scared to say anything, to move, to breathe.
‘Please,’ the voice says. ‘Wait. Wait.’
The slats creak again as he gets to his feet and opens the door. He stops and I hear him whisper a little louder, ‘Harry. Come ’ere.’
Harry!
Someone else treads carefully into the pen and drops to his knees. A familiar voice says, ‘Who’s there?’
‘Harry.’ My voice is so low I can hardly hear the words myself. ‘It’s me, Finn.’
‘Finn! What the—?’
I hardly know where to begin, what to say to him.
‘What’s going on, Harry? What’s happened here?’
‘Finn,’ he says again, and I can hear the disbelief in his voice. ‘Ah, mate, it’s good to hear your voice. Is Willow okay?’
‘She’s fine, Harry. She’s safe.’
I hear something that might be a sob, or a quick intake of breath.
‘What about you, Harry. Are you all right?’
‘I’m alive but things are pretty crook. Have been since the day you left.’
‘What happened?’
‘We’re prisoners in our own valley. Ramage went after you with half a dozen of his men, but I’m guessing you know that already?’
‘Yeah. We made it back to Angowrie, though.’
‘Good for you. Is that where Willow is?’
I consider telling him she’s here but for the time being it might be safer for him not to know his daughter’s only a few hundred metres away.
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘What happened here after we left?’
‘Ramage’s men overpowered us. They run the valley now. We work the fields with armed guards watching us every minute of the day. Then they lock us up at night.’
‘And Ramage?’
‘He hasn’t been back. Haven’t seen him all winter.’
There’s so much I need to tell him, but there’s no time now.
‘What can we do, Harry?’
‘We?’
‘Kas is here. Waiting up in the bush.’
He takes a while to consider this. ‘Who’s with Willow then?’
‘Don’t worry, she’s safe. Trust me.’
He considers this for a few seconds, then says, ‘There are six of them, Ramage’s men. They’re all armed. Living in our houses and sleeping in our beds.’ The words spit from his mouth.
‘And Stella?’ I have to ask.
‘They keep the women and girls separate.’
‘What can we do, Harry?’ I ask again. The door is opening and closing. More people are crowding into the pen. There’s a murmuring of voices.
‘Best we can tell, they’ve got all our weapons. They knew where to find them.’ He pauses. ‘It’s Tusker. He turned against us. He’s working with them.’
‘Where’s Tusker? Is he in your house?’
‘No, that’s Smale and Douglas. Tusker’s gone. Left just before the winter set in. There’s another bloke in charge. Fenton—he’s a man-mountain—and violent.’
The murmuring rises again. ‘Bastard!’ I hear someone say before Harry shushes them. ‘You can’t mistake
him, tallest bloke I’ve ever seen. Must be close on seven feet,’ he says.
This would be the man I saw locking them in when they got back. ‘We’ve got a rifle. And ammunition,’ I say.
Everything goes quiet above me.
‘They’re dangerous, Finn. And Fenton’s not the worst of them. Ramage’s son is here.’
‘Rat,’ I say.
‘You know him? He’s as bad as Ramage. Worse in some respects. He’ll kill you without a second thought.’
‘I can’t stick around here too long, Harry. Tell me what they do during the day. What’s their schedule?’
‘They wake us early. Feed us whatever shit they have left over then chain us together to head out to work. We work sun-up to sundown. No food during the day. Usually, four of them will guard us out in the paddocks.’
‘So there’s seven all together? With Fenton?’
‘Yeah, Fenton’s in charge of the work party.’
‘So there are three left here during the day?’
‘They guard the women while they work. Rat and two others.’
‘What should we do?’
His voice is weary. ‘Run. Get away from here. Go back home. Look after Willow for us.’ The others have gone quiet.
‘And if we decide not to? What then?’
‘I’m serious, Finn.’
‘So am I. We’ve dealt with Wilders before. We killed two of them down on the coast.’
‘Don’t think we don’t appreciate you coming, but it’s too dangerous. You’ll just get captured, too. Or worse.’
‘I’ll chance it.’
Half a dozen voices all talk over the top of each other until Harry shushes them again.
His voice is different, now. Uncertain. ‘You’ll have to signal us in some way, let us know what you’re doing.’
‘You know what a wattlebird call sounds like?’
‘Yeah.’
‘That’s my signal. Three calls, a couple of seconds apart. I’ll wait till the work party is almost back.’
‘We’ll be chained. Not much use to you.’
‘Who carries the key?’
‘Fenton.’
‘I watched you coming back this arvo. You only had the one guard.’
‘Two go out to the valley entrance for the night and the third one stays to clear up, put all the tools away. He’s usually half an hour behind us.’
I’m trying to take all this in to pass on to Kas. I can’t even begin to think of a plan yet but the more info we have the better.
‘Okay. Got it. I have to go now, Harry.’ I’ve untangled the wire from around my ankle and I’m ready to crawl back out into the yard.
‘Finn?’ Harry’s voice is deeper, softer. ‘Be careful.’
‘I will. Oh, and Harry?’
‘What?’
‘Tell that bloke not to piss on me the next time will you?’
There are muffled laughs above.
I take the long way back to Kas and Willow, avoiding the paddock with the cows. Everything Harry has told me is swirling around in my head.
I give the wattlebird call and Kas steps out onto the highest rock. The clouds have cleared and the moon gives me just enough light to navigate up through the scrub to our hiding spot.
‘You took your time,’ Kas says before I can get a word out.
‘Did you see Dad and Mum? Are they all right?’ Willow asks. She must have been sleeping. She rubs her eyes as I sit down with my back to the rock.
‘I saw Harry. I spoke to him. Stella’s here too but I didn’t see her.’
Willow jumps to her feet, hardly able to contain herself.
‘What was all the noise when you first went down there?’ Kas asks.
I fill them in on the cows and my conversation with Harry. Willow’s head slowly sinks to her chest but I don’t see any reason to hide the facts from her. She has to know how dangerous it will be to try to help them.
‘Shit!’ Kas says.
‘Shit!’ Willow mimics her and I have to smile. It’s the first time I’ve heard her swear.
‘There’s nothing we can do until tomorrow,’ I say. ‘We’ll have to watch and see what Rat and the other two do with the women and girls. If we can overpower them somehow, we could surprise the others when they come back from the paddocks.’
The deeper into the night, the colder it gets. The rock holds some warmth from the day so we lie pressed up against its base. Rowdy has walked off and found himself a snug spot in the bracken ferns.
I sleep in fits and starts, waking when I hear noises and drifting off again when I realise it’s the wind or the cry of a night bird. By dawn I feel as though I’ve hardly slept but I must’ve grabbed a few hours.
Something doesn’t feel right. I sit up quickly. Kas rouses with my movement.
Willow’s sleeping bag is empty. I look to the top of the rock, expecting to see her up there, surveying the valley. Nothing.
Kas is still drowsy but there’s concern in her voice. ‘She might have just gone for a piss. I’ll check.’
She scouts the surrounding bush, whispering Willow’s name as loud as she dares. I pick up Willow’s sleeping bag. It’s cold.
Kas walks back slowly and we both climb up onto the rock.
The valley is quiet. There’s no movement around the houses yet, no smoke from the chimneys. The sun hits the tips of the western ridge and some of last night’s mist sits on the paddocks. We both scan for a sign of Willow.
‘She was so close, we should have expected it,’ Kas says.
‘Wils is pretty smart. She won’t give herself away. My bet is she’ll try to find Stella.’
‘But if she does get caught, it won’t take long for them to realise she wouldn’t be here on her own.’
She’s right. ‘I reckon we wait until the men have headed off to the fields,’ I say, ‘then we go down and look for Willow. Stay out of sight. Maybe we can hold off on making our move until later in the afternoon.’
We look at each other then, knowing how dangerous it will be. There’s a moment of stillness when the bush is quiet, the sun shafting through the treetops and the breeze wafting around us.
The shock of a bell ringing in the valley sends us scrambling to the top of the rock. Two men walk across the yard to the shearing shed. One unbolts the door and the other, armed with a rifle, disappears inside. A few minutes later he emerges with the farmers. The men shuffle in their chains, holding them off the ground with one hand and leaning their other hand on the man in front to keep from falling over. They make their way across the yard and out along the road that leads to the paddocks. In ten minutes they’ve disappeared from view, hidden by the willows lining the river. One guard follows immediately but the second stops and looks from building to building, then up in our direction. I could swear his gaze lingers on our position just a little longer than anywhere else, but eventually he turns and follows the others.
There’s no sign of life around any of the houses, though we know there are still three Wilders down there. And Stella, and the other women and girls. And, now, Willow too.
‘I don’t think we can wait any longer,’ Kas says. ‘Willow’s changed all that. We don’t know what we’re going to find down there but we’ve got to check it out.’
I have to tie Rowdy to a tree. He hates it and frets and pulls at the rope. ‘Sorry, boy,’ I say. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ I open a can of sardines for him, and Kas and I share some beans.
We stow our gear in a deep crack at the base of the rocks. It’s then I notice something missing.
‘Willow’s taken the bow and arrows,’ I say.
‘Let’s hope she knows how to use them.’
I tell Kas about the way Willow has been practising through the winter.
‘Seems a lot happened back in Angowrie I didn’t know about.’ She slings the rifle over her shoulder and we start the walk down towards the buildings.
We follow the same route I took last night, staying in the cover of the s
crub as long as we can. The cows are still in the paddock behind Harry’s place. We move further along the fence, past the sheep yards until we’re about twenty metres from the hayshed. From here we make a quick dash across open ground, one at a time. Kas holds the rifle in front of her, like a soldier heading into battle.
A sheet of corrugated iron is loose in the wall. We ease it open and slip through. There’s hardly any hay to be seen.
‘They’ve gone through most of their feed,’ Kas says, looking around the near-empty shed.
From here we have a clear view of the other houses. Smoke rises from the chimney of Harry and Stella’s place.
‘Someone’s in that one,’ I say, pointing.
‘That’s where we start, then,’ Kas says.
Adrenaline is running through me. I’m getting used to feeling this way again, on edge, nervy. But today feels different. Today, we’re the hunters instead of the hunted.
The ground is muddy behind the sheds and we struggle to keep our feet, but we make it to the back of the house without giving ourselves away. We press against the wall at either side of the back door. We can hear voices inside. Male voices. Kas signals for me to move along the back and round the corner of the house. She’ll do the same on the other side.
By the time I get to the front, Kas is already in position, crouched behind an old chest to the left of the front door.
I expect things to move quickly but everything seems to slow down. If they’re going to leave the house this morning, they’re taking their time about it. My heart is pumping fast and my legs are cramping from crouching so long. I ease myself down against the wall and stretch my legs. The sun is shining directly into my face and its warmth helps keep me calm. I close my eyes and try to slow my breathing.
After an eternity, the bolt slides open on the front door and I hear the shuffle of boots. At least two lots of footsteps crunch on the gravel in front of the house. Then they stop.
‘Rat wants us to have a look for that dog from last night,’ one says. ‘I’ll check around the shearin’ shed. You look for tracks up along the fence.’
‘He c-could have a l-look himself. Lazy b-bastard. And how come he gets to s-spend so much t-time in the women’s house?’