*~*~*~*
Chapter 24
As soon as the sun’s first burning rays of dawn peeked above the eastern horizon, Butch’s station bred body clock recognised the time and raised the blinds on his sleep, flooding his mind with the new day and regimentally calling his body to reveille. In the early morning hour he studied the familiar bedroom, resting his eyes on Mishy’s peacefully sleeping figure. The sight of the woman he loved and the mother of his cherished girls brought immediate joy to his heart. She was a station woman through and through, but her body just couldn’t adjust to the rigours of the station’s early routine and even after twenty years in the bush, she seldom rose before 8 am, lapsing hopelessly back into her city roots. All three girls were born with their mother's aversion to morning, but on the other end of the scale and exactly mimicking their mum, their batteries hardly ever conceded defeat and purposefully settled into the charger much before midnight.
A movement from the next room drew Butch’s attention and he hurriedly dressed, hoping to catch Sergeant Bob Maxwell before he rolled up his swag, threw together his belongings and loaded his police Land Cruiser for the long and hot six-hour drive back to Birdsville.
“Morning, Bob,” Butch whispered cheerfully, peeping around the lounge room door.
The austere redhead threw his swag over his shoulder, rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his free hand and yawned heartily, trying to find an equally cheery greeting for his friend from somewhere deep inside, but all that seemed to roll out was a low, gravelly and disenchanting... “Butch!”
“You gonna have some breakfast before you head off, Bob?” Butch whispered again, hoping not to wake the girls.
“You cooking?!” Bob stared at his friend, absolutely resolute.
Butch glanced back at the bedroom door and listened to the gentle breaths escaping Mishy’s sleep. “I guess so, Bob.”
“In that case, I’ll make a stop at Bedourie and call in on Stephanie. Maybe I’ll get home without food poisoning!”
“Who's got food poisoning?” a tired and croaky voice met the two men at the entertainment room door, tying her dressing gown’s fabric belt around her waist and running her hand through her long, thick black locks.
“Morning, Mishy!” Bob offered, glad to see the lady of the house was awake. “Butch’s got some cockamamy idea of cooking me breakfast, but I’ve tasted his handiwork before and almost died from the experience,” Bob glanced sideways at Butch with an unmoving sombre expression.
“I’m up now. Bob. But I’m going to need a strong coffee first to get me moving freely and I’m not letting you leave here without feeding you, so you won’t need a stop at Stephanie’s,” Mishy’s throaty voice rumbled tiredly, drawing in a huge breath to yawn; but before she could finish exhaling, Butch planted a kiss on her mouth, stifling the breath and painting a delighted smile across her face in its place.
“Okay you two, that’s enough! You’ll put a man off his breakfast!” Bob’s face broke into a pleased grin, wistful of the couple's obvious love and looking forward to Mishy’s sumptuous feast.
Thankful Mishy had surfaced before he was forced to rattle the pots and pans, Butch followed her to the kitchen and when her hands were full, he wrapped his arms around her and embraced her tightly until she squeaked, showing his unspoken appreciation for sacrificing her sleep to serve another needy human being... even if it was only Bob Maxwell.
“What’s on the agenda today, Butch?” Bob leaned back into his kitchen chair and stretched his hands behind his head while waiting for Mishy to cook his breakfast.
“The bore’s playing up at Bella Creek and the cattle are getting thirsty. Might need some of the weed cleaned away from the outlet but I’ll have to do it before it gets too hot and the cattle start stressing.”
Bob searched the kitchen to see if Mishy had heard Butch’s plan, but she seemed intent on something in the sink. “Bella Creek? Isn’t that near your property’s northern boundary?” Bob lowered his voice, the tone flat and professional as if he was questioning a suspect.
“Yeah, Bob, it’s about an hour and half from the homestead and it’s a two-person job so Eddy and I will tackle it together.”
“Make sure you check around for tyre tracks and any signs of life before you start work, hey.”
Butch gave Bob a puzzled glare and then the penny dropped. “She’ll be right, mate. I’m a likable fellar. No one’s going to take a potshot at me.”
“I’m not asking you, Butch, I’m telling you! This crazy man with a gun is looking for remote and easy targets and I’d hate to be going to your funeral and watching that beautiful woman of yours chewing her heart out because her numbskull husband wouldn’t listen to a cranky old copper!”
Mishy turned from the sink at Bob’s animated warning and glanced at the two men with questioning eyes. “What’s this?” she prodded, still half asleep and shifting her glance from Bob to Butch.
“I’ve gotta visit Bella Creek this morning and Bob’s trying to spook me with this idiot running around taking potshots at station people,” Butch explained impassively and trying to play down Bob’s concern.
“You’re taking Eddy aren’t you, honey?” Mishy pleaded, knowing Bella Creek was strategic to Pearl Springs' survival and Butch had to keep the bore flowing.
Butch nodded, trying to allay her fears and dislodge Bob’s pointed stare.
“What would I know? I’m only a veteran copper. All I’m saying, people! Take every precaution and don’t shrug off anything suspicious!” Bob warned through gritted teeth. “It may save your life!”
*~*~*~*
It was approaching 8 am by the time Bob Maxwell had loaded his gear into his police issue Land Cruiser, started the engine to warm up and set the air conditioner to maximum. Then, stepping away from the idling vehicle, he grasped Butch’s hand firmly in an affectionate handshake and then took Mishy in a bear hug. “Thanks for your hospitality, folks, and please stay safe and vigilant. You know where to find me if you need me.”
“Thanks for caring about our safety, Bob, especially travelling six hours all the way from Birdsville, too. I feel like we have a big brother watching out for us,” Mishy gushed and then smiled appreciatively at the hulking copper. “Next time, come for a week and we’ll take you out camping to Nanjilgardie and catch some of those overfed barramundi.”
The thought of relaxing with friends around a bush campfire, catching a fighting barra and eating the finest fish flesh in the world set Bob’s mouth salivating, but for the moment he had other concerns needing his immediate attention. Climbing into the late model vehicle, Bob Maxwell waved goodbye, closed the door and slowly motored away. Disturbing the road's surface into choking clouds of dust, Bob drove down the station’s access road, crossed the cattle grid in a groaning b-r-r-m-m-p from the tyres and disappeared into the heat haze and out of view. Before Bob’s dust engulfed the couple, Butch draped his arm over Mishy and walked her out of the stifling heat and back towards the cool of the homestead.
He was about to speak when he noticed a worried frown settle over her fine features. “Penny for your thoughts, honey?”
“Huh? Oh, I need to talk to you about something, but I’m not sure whether this is the right moment,” she tried to smile, however the worry broke through instead.
Butch searched her disarming eyes and tried to reassure her, “If it’s about going out to Bella Creek...?”
Mishy interrupted him, knowing he had enough to think about for the moment. “That’s part of it, but not all. We need some time together to work this one out.”
“You’ve got me intrigued now,” Butch worried.
“Sorry, honey, I shouldn’t have even mentioned it,” Mishy’s eyes were dark with concern.
“Listen, when I get back from Bella Creek this afternoon and after tea, we can talk about it sitting on the lawn watching the stars together, just the two of us.”
Mishy smiled and leaned in to kiss her sensible man, reassured by Butch’s calmi
ng wisdom. “It’s a date, mister!”
*~*~*~*
Chapter 25
From her position at the kitchen window, Mishy glanced up at the wall clock and then over to the barometer. It had just gone 9 am with the temperature was already edging close to 41 degrees Celsius and as usual, the sky was a cloudless burnt blue for as far as the eye could see. With her hands in dishwater scrubbing dirty dishes, she watched the station Land Cruiser ute disappear along the access road in a smothering curtain of red dust. Today wouldn’t be a good day to be working away from the homestead. However, Bella Creek was vital to their financial future, bolstering the station’s ability to bounce back once the debilitating drought eventually broke, but giving Butch an annoying headache trying to keep the troublesome bore functioning properly. Watching the dust settle and the view of the access track return to normal, Mishy tried to concentrate on the first round of breakfast dishes, but something kept niggling at her and unlike the settling dust, her intuition wouldn’t relax.
“Mumma!”
The small proclamation at the kitchen door startled Mishy, spinning around from the sink to face the voice’s owner. Recognising Jessica, her second daughter, Mishy held out her arms and took her in a cuddle. “Good morning, sweetheart, did you sleep well?”
Returning the anticipated cuddle, Jessica nodded her head vehemently, broke from her mother’s embrace and climbed onto a chair, squeezing up to the table for breakfast, at the same time noticing the stack of dishes on the sink. “Has Daddy and Uncle Bob gone already?”
“Yes, sweetheart. Daddy had to go out to Bella Creek and Uncle Bob had to go back to Birdsville.”
“Why is Daddy’s gun leaning on the passage wall?”
The innocent question conveyed an immediate sense of panic in Mishy. The children knew Daddy had a special place for his guns and they weren’t allowed anywhere near them unless he was teaching the girls how to handle them properly. Mishy’s heart sank as she stepped into the passage and confirmed Jessica’s statement. Butch had obviously planned to take the weapon with him, but in his haste he had completely overlooked it.
*~*~*~*
Eddie Namitijarra’s wiry frame had a permanent bend fitting perfectly into the shape of a horse's saddle, but today he occupied the passenger seat next to Butch while the Land Cruiser ute rattled and shook along the dusty station access road. He’d already wound down his window, knowing Butch preferred the artificial cooling from the vehicle's air conditioning, but Eddie was a full blood Aboriginal and couldn’t stand anything artificial, especially in his ancestral home environment. High temperatures, flies and dust were just a part of outback living and if you couldn’t cut it, you had no business being on the land.
Using peripheral vision, Butch glanced sideways at the white haired elder with his sun-hardened black face partially covered by a worn and dusty Akubra cattleman’s hat, waiting for the reproof Butch knew was coming.
“White fellar toys make station fellar soft! Can’t make connection with the land an’ read ‘er mood if ya ‘ead stuck in soft white fellar cold box!”
Butch smiled to himself and now that his ancient head stockman had had his say, the day could continue on and they could focus on the job at hand.
Apart from Pearl Springs itself, Eddie was the last remaining living link with Butch’s father, Malcolm senior and a large part of family history. He was a wiry old Aboriginal man who’d been born on Pearl Springs in Butch’s grandfather’s day and for as long as Butch could remember, Eddie had been a trusted and valued part of the furniture. As a child, Butch idolised the wise old black man and followed him everywhere. If Butch’s mother wanted to find Butch, all she had to do was find Eddie. Malcolm senior had encouraged the relationship and hoped some of Eddie’s prowess and skill would rub off on his son. What Eddie didn’t know about the country, horses or longhorn steers just wasn’t worth knowing; yet secretly, Eddie held Malcolm senior, a tough individual, in the highest regard, too. Malcolm senior’s finger felt the pulse of the land, often reading its changing moods with uncanny accuracy and if it wasn’t for Malcolm senior’s white skin, he would’ve plugged right into the rhythm of an Aboriginal nomadic lifestyle.
Butch finally relented, reaching for the air conditioner button and reluctantly switched it off. Within seconds, the temperature inside the vehicle cabin rose exponentially and forced Butch to wind down his window. A sudden blast of super heated air slammed into Butch’s face and found its way inside the four-wheel drive, stirring the work vehicle’s dusty debris scattered across the floor and forcing the stifling gritty air out through the open passenger window.
A pleased grin crossed the Aboriginal elder's face, exposing decaying teeth and dark, sunburnt bloodshot eyes. Even to this day, Eddie would often try to guide Butch in situations, still seeing him as a young and impressionable boy, having no qualms in disagreeing with any decisions he thought weren’t in the best interest for Pearl Springs. Butch knew he was in for a lecture when Eddie would shake his head and vehemently state, “Badthing, little boss, ya thinkin’ wit’ da mind of a whitefellar, not da mind of da country.”
Apart from Eddie, who was family in Butch’s eyes, Butch didn’t have money for the hired help he desperately needed even though the workload was increasing as the drought continued. Eddie knew the financial situation wasn’t good, but also conceded Malcolm senior would’ve had difficulty managing the current unpredictable crisis and kept the criticism of Butch’s management to a minimum.
Coming to a junction in the red dirt road, Butch lifted his foot from the gas pedal, slowing the vehicle and reducing the intensity and amplitude of the corrugations while the suspension changed its rattling tone and enjoyed a much needed break. Yet a continuous plume of choking red dust, kicked up by the tyres and stretching endlessly behind them, threatened to overtake the vehicle if the speed didn’t immediately increase and outrun the billowing curtain. Twisted and gnarly drought-toughened trees stood by the roadside, acting as a landmark and indicating the location of the turn. Huddling together in a clump and hoping to benefit from its neighbour's cooling shadow, many years of passing traffic had painted the stand with red staining dirt.
With the debilitating dust cloud almost upon them, Eddie could see the decision process taking place within Butch’s thoughts. The inside track to Bella Creek was ten kilometres shorter but the terrain was rough, crossing many dubious dry river beds and diverting their path a long way off the main track. The outside track, although longer, was in better shape and bordered the access road, never veering far enough from the main roadway so that a passing vehicle couldn’t spot someone using the trail.
Expecting to hear a rebuff from his passenger, Butch quickly changed down two gears, pointed the vehicle down the inside track and then accelerated back up to speed and exited the gathering dust plume before it engulfed the vehicle completely. Eddie sniffed out loud, the signal Butch recognised, knowing his Aboriginal mentor didn’t agree with his decision but Eddie decided to hold his tongue. He knew what was coming.
The first two kilometres passed by smoothly, painting a haughty smile on Butch’s face until the road surface suddenly deteriorated so badly the vehicle bounced and shook until Butch lifted his foot from the gas and crawled down the trail. “Wow, this track has been chopped up so badly since the last time I used it,” Butch offered defensively.
“F’yud ask me, little boss, I coulda tol’ you that. I was out ‘ere last week checkin' on those fences da cattle trampled,” Eddie smirked.
Two hours later after a bone-numbing ride and a number of sandy dry river beds almost trapping the Land Cruiser, they finally drove into the cracked mud pan of Bella Creek; a complete hour longer than it would have taken if Butch had chosen the outer track. With Bob Maxwell’s warnings still ringing in his ears, Butch anxiously searched the moist clay around the creek bed, drawing an enquiring and amused expression from Eddy. The obvious tracks of thirsty cattle had made a mess of the drying mud and obliterated any possibi
lity of identifying another human being's presence. Then shifting his gaze and searching the distant flat, shrubby horizon, Butch found nothing of concern other than the shimmering mind play of heat haze. Dismissing all concern, switching off the engine and reaching for the door handle, Butch positioned his Akubra over his head for maximum shading effect and stepped out into the overbearing late morning heat.
Joined by Eddie, the two men quickly identified the impedance to the water supply with thick slushy algae blocking the outlet pipe and stopping the flow of water. Reaching for a shovel and a pick from the vehicle’s tray, Butch handed Eddie the shovel. “Sooner we get this mess cleaned up and restore the cattle’s water, the sooner we can get out of here.”
*~*~*~*
Mishy had been busy attending to the girls’ schooling needs. Although the School of the Air in Katherine, Northern Territory offered a competent internet-based teaching system allowing the girls to interact with their teachers and classmates through satellite, she still had to fill the void when the girls needed more help. Today was one of those days and by the time the School of the Air signed off, Mishy was behind with her chores. After settling homework issues, Mishy drew in a breath and exhaled forcefully then started for the passage, exiting the classroom and preparing for another round of menial but necessary tasks in another part of the homestead.
Entering the kitchen, she glanced up at the clock and realising the time, a worried expression painted itself across her face. Butch had indicated he would be home by now. Trying not to worry, she convinced herself Butch and Eddie had been delayed due to work requirements, immediately dismissing anything untoward but still unable to shake the harrowing feeling eating at her nerves. She’d be relieved to see the work vehicle arrive home and put her concerns to rest.