Windflowers, Page 3

  Charlie ran his fingers through his hair and adjusted his hat. ‘Wish I’d had time for a shave and a wash,’ he said with a rueful grimace. ‘Must stink like a dingo.’

  ‘Don’t reckon she’ll mind too much,’ retorted Joe. ‘It’s not as if you’re taking her to a bloody dance.’

  They grinned at one another and headed south towards where they thought the sound had come from. The job at Richmond would still be there tomorrow.

  *

  Ellie’s initial terror had been replaced by a cold determination to survive. Throwing rocks and screaming was having little effect on the dingo, and her own energy was sorely depleted, the raging thirst making it difficult to think clearly. She was panting as she stood there and faced her silent, waiting enemy.

  The dingo bitch lay with her muzzle resting on her paws. Her ears were pricked, her yellow eyes watchful as her pups gambolled around her.

  Ellie was all too aware of the sun’s path westward – of the lengthening shadow she cast across the ground. She would have to do something before it was too late. For the dingo hunted at night. She had eyes that could see in the darkness and a sense of smell that would seek out her prey. There would be no hiding place.

  The dingo snapped at her over-exuberant pups before lying on her side for them to suckle. She had no fear of the darkness. There was time enough to feed her young before the night’s hunt – and her quarry was an easy one.

  Ellie took a step back. Then another, and another. Her pulse was racing and she muttered to herself as she tamped down on her fear and forced herself not to break into a run. ‘If I run she’ll chase me. If I run she’ll chase me,’ she muttered through chattering teeth. It was a mantra. It kept her going. One more step back followed by another and then another and two more.

  The dingo sat up, ears pricked, pups scrambling beneath her. She watched Ellie, her yellow eyes never leaving her retreating figure.

  Ellie shuffled further and further away, her attention fixed to those eyes. If there was only some way of distracting her, she thought desperately. If only something else would appear for her to hunt. Where the hell were all the bloody rabbits when you needed them? Dust rose from beneath her boots as she backed away. The heat of the afternoon sun beat on her back and still the dingo bitch remained watchful.

  Sliding her foot back she rolled her instep over a large stone and lost her balance. Fighting for purchase, she felt her ankle twist painfully then she was down in the dirt. Her breath exhaled in a grunt as she fell hard on to something in her jacket pocket. Ignoring the pain she scrambled to her feet, her attention returning immediately to the dingo.

  The yellow eyes were fixed on her as she shook herself free from her pups and got to her feet. The tail was down, shoulders hunched. She was poised for flight.

  Ellie scrabbled in her pocket and pulled out Wang Lee’s parting gift. This was her only chance – one she’d forgotten – until her fall. Discarding the box and tissue paper she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it wasn’t broken. She held the tiny, ornate mirror up to the sun and aimed the flash of dazzling light directly into the dingo bitch’s eyes.

  The animal shook her head and sidestepped the blinding glare.

  Ellie moved the mirror, praying the sun would last longer than the dingo’s determination. She twisted the glowing glass until the sun’s glare was magnified and directed fully into those yellow eyes.

  The dingo backed off, her ears down, tail between her legs. Shoulders low she turned and slunk away.

  Ellie was trembling so badly she could barely stand. Yet she remained there as the dingo and her pups loped across the plain and it was only when they had become mere specks in the vast landscape that she allowed herself to think she might be safe.

  *

  Joe had caught the momentary flash of something in the distance, but it was hard to tell where it had come from, and now the screaming had stopped they had no point of reference. He reined Satan in. The stallion was blowing hard, the sweat foaming on his neck and flanks from the hectic ride across the plains. Joe took off his hat and wiped away the sweat from his face with his sleeve. ‘Can you see anything?’ he panted.

  Charlie screwed up his eyes and trawled the horizon. ‘Not a flaming thing,’ he muttered. ‘And there was me all set on rescuing a damsel in distress.’

  Joe eyed their surroundings thoughtfully as he eased his shirt collar and tried to garner a breath of coolness from the breeze that had come with the approaching sunset. Someone was out there, but they could ride all day and still miss them by a mile. The outback plains were just too vast and with the coming night, a lone traveller could simply disappear.

  They climbed down from their exhausted horses and led them in an easy walk. ‘It was probably only some swaggie letting off steam,’ muttered Charlie. ‘The glint you saw more than likely came off his bottle of grog and now he’s sleeping it off.’

  ‘Not long ago since we was on the wallaby tracks, mate. We might not have had the pennies to buy the grog, but can you remember how lonely it was? How vast all this emptiness was? Reckon we ought to try and find him. Just to make sure he’s not crook.’

  Green eyes met blue as they remembered the nights huddled beneath a canvas shelter that never seemed to keep the rain out. Of the miles they’d walked in the sweltering heat to get to the next police station and collect their measly dole ticket. There had been no such thing as brotherhood amongst the swagmen they’d come across. Their determination to find work and their youthfulness had set them apart. There had been nights spent in a police cell after being caught riding the rails without a ticket. A beating that had left Charlie almost senseless for twenty four hours and long, endless days when there was no food, no shelter and no work.

  ‘We had some good times though, didn’t we?’ Joe stared off into the distance as a scuff of dust drifted up into the sky. ‘Like the muster up to the Curry and the brumby run. Made some good mates.’ He came to a standstill his focus intense upon the horizon. ‘Over there,’ he said pointing. ‘Something’s stirring up the dust.’

  *

  Ellie’s boots scuffed the dirt as she trudged towards what she hoped was Cloncurry. She had little idea of how far away it was, but that held no fear for she’d walked for many miles during the past year and was used to it. Yet the isolation seemed to close in as darkness beckoned, and for the first time in her life she felt truly alone. There had always been dad to talk to – to walk with – to share the aches and pains and the hardships of tramping the tracks. Now there was no-one.

  Thirst was her biggest enemy. She had gone almost a full day without a drink, now her tongue felt swollen and she couldn’t summon up enough saliva to spit out the lingering grit. Running her tongue over dry lips she searched for some sign of an underground stream, a borehole or watering trough. Her spirits sank. There was nothing but a few scrubby trees, an occasional glimpse of the dusty road and the dying glare of the red sun.

  Heat still shimmered on the distant horizon as papery grass rustled and gum trees wilted. The tramp of her feet was a lonely sound in that endless wilderness, accompanied only by the irritating buzz of flies and the occasional caw of a rook. Then the all-encompassing silence was broken by another sound and she came to an abrupt halt. Shielding her eyes from the glare she watched the emerging black silhouettes of two riders as they rode out of the sunset.

  Elation at being discovered was tempered by caution. She’d spent too many months in the Domain to trust anyone at face value – especially strangers. She bent and picked up a heavy rock. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, and if they meant to harm her then she’d go down fighting.

  She watched as they dismounted and realised they weren’t much older than she was. One was dark, the other fair. Good looking boys, all whipcord and wire and obviously used to life in the outback. Yet it was better not to let them know she was a girl. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to play the charade, and after the muster up to Longreach she’d had plenty of prac
tice. She rammed her hat low over her raggedy hair, squared her shoulders and faced them. ‘The name’s Ed. Who are you?’

  Two pairs of eyes widened in astonishment. One pair of blue that reminded her of the sea, and the other as green as winter grass. ‘Strewth,’ breathed the fairer of the two. ‘What’s a little bloke like you doin’ out here on yer own?’

  ‘Mindin’ me own business,’ she fired back as she drew herself up to her full five foot and half an inch. ‘And I ain’t little. I’m nearly fourteen.’ She caught the look of disbelief that went between them and wished for the hundredth time she was taller – it was embarrassing being a squirt – nobody took her seriously. She lifted her chin. ‘Who are you?’ she repeated.

  ‘I’m Joe and this is me brother Charlie. Reckoned you might need some help – but seeing as how you’re so grown up perhaps we’d better be on our way?’

  Ellie noticed the teasing glint in those emerald eyes and found she couldn’t help but return the beguiling smile. Yet she couldn’t quite dismiss the sudden portent that this meeting would somehow change the course of all their lives – a portent of distant shadows they had yet to see.

  1

  THIRTY FOUR YEARS LATER

  Claire struggled with the spare tyre and once she’d finally got the damned thing in place she eased her back and glared out at the deserted highway. The endless miles of Queensland’s outback lay before her, the heat dancing in waves along the horizon. She hadn’t seen another car for hours, and although she was perfectly capable of changing a wheel it would have been nice to have had help. That was why she disliked the outback – it was too empty – too lonely; after her five years in Sydney, she had become used to people and noise and the bustle of city life.

  Her mood was dark as she smeared the perspiration from her face. Her long fair hair clung to her neck and the cotton minidress that had been crisp this morning was now crumpled and limp. This was no way to celebrate her graduation from Veterinary College, and if she’d had her way, she’d have been on the beach with her friends instead of stuck out here in the middle of nowhere. But the summons home to Warratah could not be ignored. Aunt Aurelia had made it clear it was time to clear the air and put an end to her estrangement from her family. And no-one argued with Aurelia. Not if they valued a quiet life.

  She twisted her hair into a rough knot and tethered it with a clip then took a long drink. The bottle had been on the passenger seat and the water was unpleasantly warm. But it did the trick, and she was soon tightening the last bolt and lowering the jack. Throwing the tools back into the back of the van, she climbed in and switched on the engine.

  The van was an old green Holden her dad had picked up at an auction in Burketown. It looked a wreck, but the Warratah mechanic had stripped the engine and it purred as good as new despite the rust showing through the chipped paintwork and the rear doors needing to be tied at the handles to keep them from bursting open. She’d had plenty of offers to decorate it with flower power daisies and Ban the Bomb insignia, but had resisted. It was bad enough driving the thing through Sydney’s traffic without looking as if she was part of a circus.

  Claire let the engine idle as she lit a cigarette. Thoughts of home and family had come to the fore again, and now she was only a few days from Warratah, she was experiencing a mixture of emotions. It would be good to see the old place again. To breathe the scent of the citrus yellow wattle trees and the profusion of roses that clambered over the old homestead. Her mother, Ellie, had a passion for roses and in the soft outback nights the musk of them filled the house. Yet she remembered the tense atmosphere between them all on that last day five years ago, and knew this summons home was Aunt Aurelia’s attempt to put things right. And that made her uneasy. For the questions that haunted her were finally to be answered – and she didn’t know if she was ready. Her life was settled in Sydney. She had friends there and after Christmas would take up the job offer in a prestigious veterinary practice. The shadows that had once haunted her were almost banished, and she didn’t relish the thought of their returning.

  Stubbing out her smoke, Claire put the van in gear and headed back on to the highway. She was not the same naive country girl who’d left Warratah all those years ago, and despite the olive branch being offered by her aunt, she knew this was not going to be an easy home-coming. Yet she was wise enough to realise she couldn’t run for ever. It was time to face the truth, no matter how harsh.

  *

  Ellie had had a restless night. She didn’t like sleeping alone, but her husband was away on the annual muster and the house seemed to echo now both Leanne and Claire had left home. She’d lain there in the darkness listening to the old timbers creak and sigh, wondering where the years had gone. It felt as if it had only been such a short while since she’d arrived at Warratah – a skinny kid with no possessions but a few ragged clothes and an old pony – yet here she was rapidly approaching her forty-eighth birthday and mistress of one of the biggest cattle stations in Northern Queensland.

  The ghosts of the past crowded in and she gave up on sleep. Tossing back the sheet she clambered out of the big brass bed and padded barefoot into the kitchen. It was the centre of the house, the place where the children had played and homework had been done while the men discussed the stock, the weather and the price of beef. It looked so tidy now she realised as she waited for the water to boil, so ordered where there had once been a jumble of riding boots in the corner, dirty laundry piled in a basket next to the boiler, toys and discarded books left lying where they fell. Happy days, she thought wistfully.

  ‘Sign you’re getting old when you complain how tidy everything is,’ she muttered crossly as she poured the water over the tea and added two spoonfuls of sugar. She took a sip and grimaced. Talking to herself was another sign of age but she’d found herself doing it more often lately. The truth was she missed her girls. Missed their bright chatter and their energy – even their flaming rows. It was just too damn quiet.

  She looked around the kitchen, seeing it properly for the first time despite the hours she spent in here. The timber walls and ceiling were dark with smoke from the ancient range they’d replaced five years ago and the linoleum was cracked and faded from primrose yellow to a pale cream. The solid kitchen table and chairs had been made in the carpentry shop and were scarred by years of abuse from children and drovers and the cupboards were mismatched and needed a coat of paint. The sink was old, the gas fridge unreliable, the curtains faded at the window, and although she’d been tempted by the magazine advertisements to have one of the new, streamlined kitchens, she preferred things as they were. This was home, she was at ease here.

  Without really knowing why, she drifted from the kitchen into the square hall at the front of the house and opened the bedroom doors on either side. There were four in all, added as the years went by and the children came along. Her own room looked out to the gum trees and the billabong, the muslin curtains drifting in front of the fly-screens, diffusing the bright light that came in the afternoon. The brass bed almost filled the room, the lace mosquito canopy adding a touch of exotica. Photographs lined the battered dresser, paintings of horses lined the wooden walls and the polished floor gleamed beneath the scattered sheepskin rugs.

  Ellie smiled as she softly closed the door. It was their refuge, the one place in all the madness that went with running a place like this that they could escape to and find one another again.

  The girls’ rooms had been almost stripped of any sign they had once lived here. Apart from a few outgrown toys and books there was nothing much to show for their twenty-odd years of habitation. Ellie tweaked the patchwork quilts, plumped pillows and fingered through the books and riding trophies. Leanne was married now, with a home of her own, and Claire. Claire was newly qualified, with a bright future in the city and a lifestyle that Ellie could only guess at. There had been little communication between them over the past five years and she realised sadly her eldest daughter had become a stranger

  Impat
ient with her gloomy thoughts she shut the doors behind her, grabbed a sweater from the hook by the screen door and went out on to the verandah. It was still dark, the moon high in the sky, the stars so clear and bright it was almost as if you could reach out and touch them. Ellie breathed in the scent of wattle and roses that mingled with the more earthy smell of horses and cattle and good rich soil. Life at Warratah was all she needed, the seasons following one another almost effortlessly as cattle were born, branded and put out to pasture before they were rounded up, selected for breeding or the stock yards.

  She sighed as she looked out into the darkness to the pastures she knew stretched further than any eye could see. She would never leave this place, this beloved corner of Queensland, for it had been mother and father to her for most of her life. The land had been nourished by her sweat and the blood of those closest to her. Had demanded her strength and courage no human had ever done.

  The rocking chair was old, the runners creaking beneath her slight weight as she sat there on the verandah with her cooling tea and watched the dawn bring colour and warmth. Ghostly white Mitchell grass turned silver, the dew glittering millions of diamonds in the new light. Gum trees cast deep shadows over the impacted red earth of the cattle pens and corrals, and the billabong was pewter bright between banks of weeping willows and spinnifex. Her smile was one of pleasure and sadness as she realised how long ago it was since she’d first set eyes on Warratah, and as she sat there in the burgeoning light she felt the ghosts of the past return once more – and they could no longer be ignored.

  *

  The boys gave her water and set about making a camp fire. ‘What we got here then?’ muttered Joe as he peered into the gloom.