East of Outback (25 page)

Sloan stood erect and received the handshake smiling. “Cole Sloan, Colin’s father.”

The dark face lit up in a happy grin. “
Claro!
Your eyes are his eyes.
Bienvenido! Mi casa es su casa
. Come in. Come in!” He led the way through the unlocked front door.

Sloan stepped into the cool room. The furniture was simple—four straight-backed chairs and a table. The newlyweds were apparently just setting up housekeeping.

Romales put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “My wife Lily. Lily, mebbe some of that good cider, eh?”

“If it hasn’t turned yet. Let me look.” Her warm, dark eyes and coffee-and-cream skin suggested Aboriginal blood. Her sparkle was purely that of a new bride.

Romales indicated a chair. “Siddown, please. Hope you join us for dinner, eh?” He sat casually on another chair and draped himself loosely on the edge of the table. “So, you seen Colin lately? How he’s doing, eh?”

Sloan settled onto the hard chair as he shook his head. “I just arrived. First, I want to thank you very much for answering my wife’s letter. She wept with happiness when she read it. When you spoke so highly of our son, you bestowed us with a beautiful gift.”

Romales studied Sloan a moment with penetrating eyes. His voice was soft but firm. There would be no small talk from this man. “I don’ speak highly of him so’s I make you feel good. I speak highly ‘cause Col, he got lotsa good stuff to speak highly of. He’s honest and solid and willing to work. You can depend on him; ain’ many men you can say that about. And he knows how to be a true frien’. Ain’ many men you can say
that
about, either.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“You don’ get my point, Senor Sloan. Ain’ me jus’
thinking
so. What I think don’ count. Iss the way it is; the way
he
is. Tha’s what counts. An’ Col got this notion, I think mebbe iss true, that you can’t see any of the good in him.”

“You’re getting a bit personal, aren’t you?”

“Mebbe time somebody did, eh?”

Sloan had to force his body not to move until he decided how to move. He wanted sorely to leave. To stay. To punch this brash, irreverent dill in the nose. To hear and learn more. He flashed a swift, earnest prayer heavenward:
Help me, Lord! I don’t know what to do
. And quite as swiftly came the clear reply,
Stay. Learn
. Reluctantly he forced himself to relax and sit back.

“You told my wife in your letter that you spent two months on the track with our son. That’s longer than I’ve ever spent with him, at least all at once. Tell me, what did the two of you talk about?”

Romales sat casually also, but there was tension in his manner, like a cat’s. “Lotsa things, sometimes nothing at all, eh? Tha’s how you learn to know a person’s heart.”

Romales’ wife entered with the cider and three glasses. She wore a worried expression, as she poured the refreshment. “Are you sure you want to talk so freely with this man, Dizzy?” There were no veiled references with her—she clearly spoke her mind. Sloan smiled, as she sat down to join them.

“Sí!” Romales answered her. “Once he talk to his brothers he get all the wrong ideas. Better we talk to him first, eh? So he gets the truth.”

He turned to Sloan. “Top of the track, we just starting, Col, he had all the money. I don’ got nothin’, eh? Not even the horse. He bought the horses and the food. Down here, when he s’pose to get paid and didn’, I had all the money and pay for ev’rythin’. Didn’ make no difference, y’ know? Friendship, it don’ change. One pays one time, other the nex’ time; nobody keeps count. Tha’s real—uh, amigos. Compadres. What you call it?”

“Mates. Cobbers.”

Lily gazed at Cole with her deep, dark eyes. “Dizzy didn’t mention to you, I don’t think, that they let me travel down with them. They shared their food and water supply and let me ride. With them I felt safe, Mr. Sloan. Neither Col nor Dizzy made any suggestions, or wanted anything. I had to hide inside myself at first until I finally realized I was truly safe. They protected me and they never asked anything. You’re big and strong, Mr. Sloan. You probably don’t realize how wonderful it is to feel safe and protected with someone.”

Romales commanded attention with his low, rumbling voice. “Lately we been goin’ to a little stone-block church over to the other side, corner of Porter and Egan. Preacher there say just las’ week that a man’s character is what he does when no one’s watching. Col, he got that kind of character. He’s a real man, and a gen’leman. He’s a son to be proud of.”

A real man? A son to be proud of?
Colin wasn’t a man, he was just a kid. Why, the stuff he pulled at home—Sloan could hardly feel proud. He studied the self-assured man before him, one who seemed to know a Colin Sloan that Cole didn’t know at all.

Lily stood up. “Dizzy put two rabbits in the meat safe just last night. Rabbit stew with cornbread coming up. I hope you’ll stay for dinner.” She smiled and those black eyes snapped from dark to bright. “Maybe Dizzy will turn us some tortillas.”

Romales nodded at her and was silent, giving Sloan space to think. He welcomed that, even though his thoughts would not come together. He sighed heavily and leaned on the table. “I had plans for my son, Mr. Romales, but—”

“Dizzy, eh?”

“Dizzy. Cole, please. My plans for him were spiritual, plans for his growth as a Christian. But he wouldn’t fit into those plans. He fought me. Refused me. Fought God. He went clear off course, Dizzy, and neither his mother nor I. . . . Nothing we said or did seemed to help or make any difference. Now, our daughter Hannah—” Sloan stopped midsentence.

Romales studied him intently, searching for the right words. Sloan wished he could read the man better. Romales relaxed further. “Know what I see? I see a man hurtin’, an’ that bothers me, ‘cause mi compadre—my mate—he loves that man. Col never said that, but I can tell iss true, eh? And my mate, he’s hurtin’ too. I know that for a fact.”

“Can you see what I should do?”

“No. I can’ say what you should do.” His tortured English purred gently. “But mebbe Lily and me, we can help you find out, eh?”

______

Wide blue sky arched over a hushed gray-green landscape. A black penstroke, hardly more than the line across a capital T, circled in the limitless sky. Another appeared. The lines thickened as they spiraled, growing until Colin could discern their kind. Eaglehawks. He picked up another rabbit from beneath a bush and headed back toward the horsecart.

He tossed two handfuls of rabbits onto the back of the cart, disturbing the cloud of flies. He would pick up the remaining bait this time around, too. Mr. Slotemaker would be turning his wethers out into the paddock soon. No bait could remain for the sheep to find.

Max barked sharply. Colin walked toward the sound as Max’s Lady dozed in the spring sun. Sometimes Max brought the poisoned rabbits in, sometimes he simply stood there barking at them. Colin could not discern why the dog would touch one and not another.

“Good dog, Max.” Colin picked up the limp animal. There was a bit of yellow yarn in a tree, marking bait, but Colin could find no chunk of yellow-dyed apple. He pulled the yarn and continued on his trail. He’d have to hurry. The circling eaglehawks would rob him of his harvest if he wasn’t quick.

In a week Hannah would turn thirteen. Colin thought he should arrange some sort of observance. Were she at home, Mum would have a special party or tea in her honor. Mum would know just what to do. Colin hadn’t the slightest notion how to begin.

He smiled to himself. A week ago he had passed his seventeenth birthday. Hannah made no comment. She obviously had not remembered. Quite probably she didn’t even know what day it was. It was easy to lose track of time out here on the swag. Seventeen. Making his own way.
Watch me, Papa!

He brought four more rabbits back to the cart and led the mare a few hundred feet down to a dry creekbed. He tied her to a massive white gum tree, and she dozed again.

The eaglehawks were settled beyond the trees.

Smoke-oh time. Colin didn’t smoke, as most of the shearers did, but he relished the traditional rest anyway. Shearers broke every two hours. Colin had no timepiece with which to judge his breaks. Out here in the sundrenched reaches, time slipped by on tiptoe, and who could know when an hour passed? But it seemed about time for a break, and he stretched out prostrate beneath an ancient, sprawling gum, covering his face with his hat to thwart the flies.

Now this was the life! No onerous responsibilities. No problems. His mind drifted to that ride down the Madman’s Track with Dizzy. It seemed so long ago. Good old Diz. The man kept his eyes open. He watched for opportunity, was open to change, tackled anything he did with a determination to do it the best he knew how. Whether he was tending the shell diver who depended utterly upon him, cooking for the bosses at the Perseverance, or hunting meat and water on the trail, he didn’t drag his feet wishing for something else.

He probably would have done very well below ground in the mines. Now in retrospect, Colin regretted not giving it more of a fair go. Did he tend to give up too soon? It seemed that way. Perhaps he’d be on his way to wealth now, had he only stuck to it.

On the other hand, he was on his way to some kind of wealth now, and enjoying the open sunlight in the bargain. On Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, he’d re-fed his bait trail, then he and Hannah gathered the corpses. Three hundred rabbits a day for three days. With today’s harvest they’d have well over a thousand. Sell the skins in Bendigo or Melbourne, sell the carcasses for tankage at the fertilizer plant, buy more apples—he’d still make a handsome profit.

No profit to those who sit on their hands
. Colin climbed to his feet. Smoke-oh was over. Back to work. He led the mare down the dry creek to where the bankside trees opened enough to let the cart pass through. He led her out and across the arid flats.

From the northeast he could hear Max’s bark. Colin left the mare to rest again and headed in that direction. Max nosed a stiff rabbit beneath a bush. When Colin picked it up, the dog trotted off dutifully.

Here lay another nearby, just recently died, for the carcass was warm. The rabbit’s thick lips had drawn back into a grotesque smile, those huge yellow teeth showing clear to the gums. Somehow strychnine tightened all the muscles at once; the rabbit’s back arched unnaturally and its legs protruded stiffly. Jackie Jump claimed that the poison made all the heart’s muscles contract at the same moment so that with one convulsive beat it wadded up into a cardiac fist. How long did it take a rabbit to die thusly? Jackie Jump claimed “right away,” but that could mean any amount of time, were time measured at all in this land of vivid sun.

Max was wandering somewhere to Colin’s left. Suddenly he bolted past, yapping furiously, and disappeared into the bush ahead. Seconds later a pair of glossy black eaglehawks squirted up from beyond the trees. Eight feet of wingspan barely got the birds airborne. With heavy flapping they jerked themselves back up into the freedom of the skies.

Colin grinned. What bravado Max must have feigned to drive away two such birds of prey! Every dog should experience that sublime thrill once in a lifetime.

The grin fled. “Max, no!” Colin lunged forward at a dead run. “No! Get away!” The eagles had torn a rabbit apart, strewing it about. Max had laid claim to a portion of it.

“Max, don’t eat that!” Colin flung his rabbit carcasses at the dog. “Get away!”

Snarling, Max ducked the carcasses and held his ground. Colin kicked at the dog. The crazy bitzer snapped back. His teeth sank into Colin’s leg just above his shoe. The dog grabbed a piece of the entrails and ran off two rods.

Colin raced after him. He could see nothing to throw. “Max! Get back! No! Please, no!”

The dog turned and loped into the bush, dragging his dinner with him.

Colin would never find him now. He should not have yelled and attacked. He should have called the dog instead. But calling the dog never worked either, the stubborn mutt.

“Max! Please come!
Max!
”

No response.

Colin gathered up what he could of the remains and retrieved his rabbits. Quite probably Max got none of the poison. Much of a poisoned rabbit’s body is not tainted. He collected the yellow yarn and the last of the bait. Half an hour passed.

“Max? Hey, Max! I’m headed home now. Better come along.”

Colin climbed into the box and woke Max’s Lady. He urged the horse forward, watching the bush around him.

His happy shout startled the mare. Max had appeared suddenly, trotting off alone to the west, headed home! Max’s Lady tossed her head and picked up the stride. Why had Colin worried?

The dog stopped suddenly and shuddered.

Colin dragged the mare to a halt. “Max?”

The dog shuddered again. He jerked convulsively. Colin jumped down and ran toward him. Max snarled and backed off.

“This is no time to be belligerent, old friend. I won’t hurt you.” He took another step forward. The dog growled and fell to the ground. Gently Colin reached out. The dog’s teeth broke the skin on two of his fingers. “Max, no. . . .”

A violent convulsion seized the old dog, sending every muscle into spasm. Max’s lips drew back so tightly into a horrid grin that they disappeared. His head reared back, the spine arched. He lay quivering, then relaxed. He dragged air into his tortured lungs in huge gulps.

Again Colin tried to reach out. Again the snapping jaws drove him away. He thought of Max’s patient leading, hundreds of feet below Kalgoorlie. Possibly on that occasion Max was leading his lady friend to safety and Colin was, literally, along for the ride. But then, he thought about the way Max had sprung to his defense when his uncle accosted him. In his strange, warped way, Max cared about Colin. Why wouldn’t he let Colin approach now?

Another convulsion. The dog’s eyes glassed over. Only as the old warrior’s life ebbed out was Colin able to drag the dog into his arms and hold its head and weep.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY