Butch let the bonnet slam closed and then locked the vehicle, turning his back on yet another problem. Bob was right. The girls had slept in their parents’ room again last night and wouldn’t let their father out of their sight, and Mishy stopped for a cuddle every time she came near.
By the time the two men ambled out of the shed, the girls were chattering excitedly together, waiting in the back seat of the loaded wagon and anxious for their short family holiday to Nanjilgardie.
An unexpected, “Hah!” broke across the early morning hour and then the sounds of pounding hooves disappeared into the scrub, with Eddie’s hand deliberately outstretched and held above his head in greeting. The elder had his swag and meagre belongings strapped to his saddle, riding off like the lone ranger into the sunrise and kicking up clods of dry dust as he went. Butch’s gaze followed the only living connection with his past and once again he wished Malcolm senior was still around to guide his son through the toughest years of his life. Eddie had tried to warn Butch of the perils of the inner track and now he and his family had paid needlessly for his unwise mistakes.
As the two men approached the holiday vehicle, Mishy sat in the middle of the front bench seat while the girls cheerfully occupied the back. Butch stopped suddenly, only a few metres from the vehicle and surprised Bob with the move. He focused on Mishy and she smiled back at his stare and then the girls waved in unison as his glance settled over them.
“You know, Bob, a man needs to count his blessings instead of the things he can’t change. I’ve learnt something through this whole debacle. I have a beautiful family and they’re the only thing that matters to me, and as long as we are together, I feel like I can conquer the world.”
Bob slapped Butch’s back again affectionately and laughed. “I’m not a praying man, Butch, but if I had to guess I’d say someone smiled on you with a very precious gift.”
*~*~*~*
Nanjilgardie was located on a dry tributary of the Georgina River and part of a remote section of Pearl Springs’ vast property, left nearly undisturbed and seldom visited by human invaders. A natural granite rock amphitheatre towered high above a small permanent billabong, trapping vast quantities of fat barramundi in its crystal clear tarn. Nanjilgardie’s antediluvian granite walls held back the oasis waters, sitting almost idle and waiting for the unpredictable big wet to reach the dry desert interior. When the wet did finally come, the turbulent muddy water flushed out Nanjilgardie’s lagoon as the sprawling Georgina River flooded, setting the Channel Country abuzz with new life and in a immense spectacle only conceivable from the air. However, a small freshwater artesian spring patiently fed the billabong during the dry years, clearing the sediment over time with its insignificant outflow trickling over the natural rock pool walls, keeping the waters of Nanjilgardie crystal clear and a true oasis in a hot, parched and dry landscape.
From the air, the Channel Country stretched like a vast network of dehydrated veins over hundreds of square kilometres of flat, lifeless plain and finally emptying into the thirsty but limitless desolate inland sea of Lake Eyre some fifteen metres below sea level. But when the big rains finally came to the ranges of north western Queensland, the veins and arteries acted like natural drainage, purging the land many metres above sea level and filling with water, transporting its muddy payload away from the tropics in a gushing torrent and depositing the watery mass into the vast sunburnt saltpans of Central Australia’s Lake Eyre over a thousand kilometres away. The spectacle of the Channel Country flooding was cyclic and very seldom did Lake Eyre act as the sunburnt continent’s drainage system. But when it did, the outback became impassable by road, trapping many unsuspecting motorists and station people in a vast muddy floodplain stretching from horizon to horizon, and in some places, many metres deep.
Soon after the life-giving water surged across the dry red heart filling a flat expanse of dry creeks and tributaries, dormant life exploded into a rebellion of activity, kick-starting extensively sleeping ecosystems and bringing long forgotten species back into the desolate land. For a short time, life of every kind erupted into an orchestrated milieu, filling the outback with sea birds a thousand kilometres from the sea and leaving the offspring of every conceivable species flourishing in the remote paradise. Until once again the relentless sun baked the exposed plains, evaporating the sustaining water and forcing life to draw the curtain on its frenetic activity and hide maybe many decades before the feverish cycle of desert life would repeat itself.
*~*~*~*
Mishy, squeezed in between Bob’s impressive bulk and Butch, pressed close to her husband as he drove the family down another spiralling dusty station track. The air conditioner kept the interior cool and bearable as the morning sun climbed like a rabid demon, spilling its burning heat over the dry scenery. The joviality had diminished considerably as weary and impatient passengers stared mesmerised through dusty windows, waiting for Nanjilgardie’s oasis to appear and to enjoy the first delightful swim for many months. The excitement began to build as Danica recognised a familiar waterless rocky river crossing and a long row of red river gums happily existing along the dry river bed. This would be a chance to escape the confines of the vehicle for half an hour and collect the firewood needed for the campfire, stacking the trailer’s canvas cover with the long-burning ancient river gum branches shed by the trees in formidable desert windstorms. Nanjilgardie was just along the next dried up river crossing and the girls were eager to explore.
As Butch turned the Land Cruiser wagon into the final sandy river bed, he momentarily brought the vehicle to a stop and reached over Mishy’s knees, selecting low four-wheel drive. With the freewheeling hubs engaged, he grabbed second gear and then turned the lumbering vehicle and its load directly down the dry river course. The vehicle charged along the river sand, bumping and slipping and throwing the occupants around in a carnival of sideshow rides. The girls squealed in delight, holding onto the seat in front with straining fingers as the trailer madly fishtailed, threatening to eject the collected wood in the soft sand.
Finally, the watercourse erupted into a stony canyon and there in front of them was Nanjilgardie’s timeless and convivial oasis. Course river sand—laid out like a red carpet to the crystal clear water’s edge—welcomed the family and before Butch could bring the vehicle to a complete stop, the back door swung open and the girls were out, running and frolicking in the warm water. The screams of delight echoed off the sheer granite walls as the siblings splashed each other with handfuls of skimmed velvety water, while wary fish scurried for the shelter of granite crags on the far side of the billabong.
Two huge river gums stood side by side on the water’s edge and offered welcome shade and the traditional site of the family tent. Nanjilgardie was an ancestral heritage and a well kept secret. Many generations of Slaters had enjoyed its superb ambience and revitalising relaxation. In one of Butch’s many visits as a child, Malcolm senior had cemented a proper fire pit, outliving his father but leaving a legacy for the future generations of Slaters to enjoy.
Mishy and Butch stood together and gazed around the canyon, reliving their lives together. Butch leaned in and took Mishy in his arms and dazed her with a passionate kiss, followed by wild cheers from their children. This is where their married life together had begun and a two week honeymoon here seemed like an incredible dream, as if two innocent children had been placed in a garden to explore. Returning to Nanjilgardie was like going back in time and only reignited the tender love Mishy and Butch shared, leaving the cares of existing in a man-made nightmare to drain slowly away.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 57
Danica stood waist deep in the luxurious waters of Nanjilgardie, supporting Molly under her stomach as she splashed across the surface trying to follow the instructions of her older sister teaching her to swim. Jess floated lazily around her two sisters on an air mattress and dangled her hand into the water until a curious fish took a gentle nibble at her fingers, but she wasn’t af
raid. She could see the timid creature in the clear water and with a stirring wave of her paddling hand, the culprit left the scene at high speed to share his tale with other curious—but not so brave—members of the fish family. Even in the shaded canyon walls, the burning sun continued to threaten human skin. Mishy’s girls swam in shorts and t-shirt covered by copious amounts of sunblock and an Akubra firmly shading fair feminine skin, a family routine Mishy wouldn’t budge on and diligently modelled her expectations openly herself for the girls to follow.
By mid morning, the substantial family tent had been erected between the river gums and a fire crackled in the pit, boiling a billy of water over hot flames, preparing to add the flavoursome tea leaves for an exquisite bush-brewed billy tea. Butch lifted the tin lid from the billy with a forky stick he’d obtained from the ground litter shed from one of the trees. Carefully placing the lid on a rock, he took a handful of tea leaves from a packet and threw them into the boiling billy. Watching the leaves turbulently gyrate on the rolling boil, he picked up the billy lid again with the same forky stick and carefully replaced the lid until the wood smoke and bush flavours drew out the best from the tea leaves.
Keeping a close eye on the brew, Butch found a more substantial forky stick to lift the billy from the coals and once the steaming billy stood simmering on a rock, he donned a leather glove, grabbed the wire handle and swung the billy in a deliberate arc over his head like a Dutch windmill blade. Bringing the steaming cauldron to a cautious and slowly steadying stop after a dozen arcs, the brew was now ready to pour and enjoy. As he lifted the billy lid, a strong, sweet bush flavour escaped the tin billy, drawing a mouthwatering response from Mishy and Bob.
Relaxing in folding deck chairs and sipping on exquisite billy tea, the three adults watched the girls frolic in the peaceful waters of Nanjilgardie. Butch was expecting Eddie at any moment, but before he could voice his thoughts, a horse nickered a welcome and announced Eddie’s arrival.
“’Ope ya got one of dem brews for me, little boss!” Eddie played, dismounting his tired ride and pulling his swag from the saddle.
Mishy smiled big and immediately set about to meet her favourite head stockman’s needs, pouring him a bush brew and then adding a welcome hug. Eddie returned Mishy’s hug shyly and then emptied a pocket lined with bush berries.
“Go good with barramundi, missus,” Eddie’s wry smile lit up his dark face, hoping Mishy would take his offering and add a little Aboriginal tradition to the evening meal.
“Speaking of which, Mr Maxwell, I still have the record for the biggest barra caught on the lightest line here,” Butch boasted.
“Correction, Mr Slater. You had the record!” Bob teased.
Mishy knew the challenge had been set. Regardless of who got the biggest fish on the lightest line, a fresh barra would be welcome; and a good sized fish for all the family to enjoy was a certainty from the remote undisturbed waters of Nanjilgardie. The clean white velvet flesh of bush caught barramundi was second to none in the world, and with Eddie’s bush berries, rivalled any five-star hotel. As the barramundi challenge shifted into high gear and spindly fishing rods threaded with cotton-thin line appeared in Butch’s and Bob’s hands, Mishy called the girls from the water. Unnoticed, Eddie wandered off to a shallower part of Nanjilgardie’s shore, but his strange movements didn’t go undetected by the Slater girls and they followed the wiry elder in search of adventure.
Standing on the shore of Nanjilgardie, Bob picked a winning spot to cast his line, but Butch moved further away from his opponent, figuring the big ones would be cautious of Bob’s attempts at barramundi whispering. Mishy watched the furious challenge with delight as plastic lures misfired from overzealous casts and hit the rock wall, bouncing stunned into the clear water with tangled line around vicious hooks while the lure darted dementedly before being drawn back to the rod by a furiously cranked fishing reel.
Eventually the fishers refined their craft, casting and retrieving with mounting skill until a curious fish attacked the lure with hungry abandon. Bob’s tackle disappeared underwater with predator-like tenacity, gulped down by a massive barra. Butch caught a glimpse of Bob’s tiny rod bending nearly double and the sound of his reel peeling off metres of web-like line and fighting the aggressive invader with audacious grinding motions from his hips. Then with a sickening ping, Bob’s tackle disappeared somewhere under a rocky crag.
Barramundi... one; Bob Maxwell... none.
Butch chortled and his laughter echoed up and down the granite walls until a hungry, well fed ‘truck’ grabbed his own line and set the boasting station boss fighting for his reputation. Butch fought the huge charging fish with everything he could muster, but the unravelling line became too much for the insignificant reel and it melted in a splintering cacophony of gnashing gear teeth. As the reel welded itself together, a distinct ping echoed across the quiet water, followed by Bob Maxwell’s teasing guffaw.
Mishy stared at the scene in disbelief, thinking maybe barramundi on the menu this trip might just be a far off dream. But just as she was about to abandon all hope, Eddie and the girls appeared, carrying a massive fish and handfuls of large native freshwater yabbies.
Jesse came running up to Mishy, her eager hands full of yabbies and her speech brimming with excitement. “Eddie made a spear and showed us how he catches fish. He let Danica use his spear and look what she caught!” Jesse’s voice erupted, forgetting about her own offering and dropped the freshwater crayfish at Mishy’s feet, pointing back to the approaching fishers with a family-sized barra dangling from Danica’s hands.
Bob and Butch huffed as they watched the procession arrive with the large feed of fresh fish and a sizeable offering of yabbies, too.
“I suppose you whistled, Eddie, and the yabbies marched out of the water and into your hands,” Bob’s disgruntled sarcasm drifted across the echoing canyon.
“Nup, you white fellars don’t understan’ traditional hunting, but little white lady girls do.”
Eddie prepared the fish in traditional style and insisted Mishy let him cook for tonight. Mishy readily agreed, but seeing the fire pit coals were perfect for cooking charcoal potatoes, she threw several handfuls of the vegetable directly into the hot coals and over time watched their skins turn a glowing red before turning completely charcoal black. Once removed from the coals, the delicious potato was then sliced and smeared with butter, scooping out the exuberant white flesh, leaving the charcoal skin as waste.
*~*~*~*
Afternoon had come to an abrupt end and evening chased in the vibrant golden outback colours of sunset, while an imaginary hand turned down the pallid wick of burning sunshine and invited the mystery of night into a polite dance, exchanging pleasantries as the slender moon took over dominance in the highest sky. The family gathered silently around the crackling fire pit, mesmerised by the smoking hypnotist, deep within private thoughts and full to overflowing with Eddie’s bush tucker provision.
A fluttering, massive cloud of peeping zebra finches disturbed the peaceful scene and guardedly took their turn to drink from the oasis waterhole, some landing cautiously on a rocky overhang, while others drank on the wing. Scattering the finches in a disturbed cacophony, a huge flock of green and yellow budgerigars filled the evening sky with a deafening screech and before long, finch and budgerigar wearily eyed each other while the two desert species drank their fill.
Mishy and Butch excused themselves and left the camp confines, searching to recapture the romantic walks of their honeymoon and the final rays of sunset. Climbing to a familiar spot high above Nanjilgardie, the couple found a rock chair and settled in to watch the colours deepen over the horizon, before the shadows of night engulfed their hideaway. Holding Mishy tightly, Butch uttered a whispered delight and reassured his bride of his never-ending love. As their lips parted from a shared romantic moment and holding each other’s hand, Butch could sense something was bothering Mishy.
“Penny for your thoughts, honey,” Butch w
hispered.
“Now probably isn’t a good time, Butch.”
“It’s Danica isn’t it, Mishy?”
Mishy nodded silently, wondering how Butch knew.
“She’s feeling lonely and isolated from her own age group and friends are so far away,” Butch offered.
“How did you know, honey?” Mishy whispered incredulously.
“I was a teenager too growing up on an isolated property.”
“Well, what did you do?”
“Dad used to take us to a bush dance once a year to let down our hair. I guess the problems with the drought have pushed the thought out of my mind.”
“But she’s only sixteen. Don’t you think she’s a little young for a dance?”
“No, not if I’m there and the young boys know I have a shotgun!”
Mishy laughed at Butch’s comment. “Okay, if you think it’s alright; when can we take her?”
“I’ll look into it as soon as we get back,” Butch offered.
Mishy leaned against Butch’s chest and settled back into his embrace, watching the last fading rays disappear over the horizon and then after many moments she offered a thought. “Any of those country boys even look at my Danica, I think it would be a race between you and me for the shotgun.”
Butch’s exuberant laugh echoed across the dead of night and then he kissed Mishy passionately.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 58
A tall and wiry, dark haired figure absentmindedly scrutinised the skyline of Dubai from the Hotel JW Marriot Marquis’ seventy-sixth floor. The dangerous dark eyes frowned, tracing the contemptuous street view and even with double glazing protecting the luxury apartment from the oppressive Arabian sun, the heat somehow managed to seep into the air conditioned room. Stepping back slightly from the window and loosening his tie as if the action would somehow assist his troubled thoughts to gain a safe passage and give a clearer outlook to the situation, the handsome face contorted into a cold, calculating gesture.