Fire Eye (34 page)

Johnny is leaning back in the seat, his shoulder resting against the door pillar. It is good to be sitting down in a soft, comfortable seat. It will be a good hour at least before they get to the stockyards. He is determined to enjoy the break and the cool caress of the breeze playing with the hairs on his tanned skin.

“Much to do at the yards?” he asks.

“With luck not much, me boy. That bloody lone brumby has smashed the fence again to get to the water. Gotta do something about that fella! If we knock it off by this arvo we can be back at the quarters tonight. Got everything we should need in the back,” Andy says. He likes being out in the bush but always looks forward to a good shower, home cooked food and a soft bed. Enough luxury to recharge him, but not enough to become tedious.

A booming thud sounds, just loud enough to hear over the rattling of the trailer and thumping of the suspension. “What was that?” Johnny snaps.

Andy swings to the left to cut around a fallen tree. “Might be a tyre…” He doesn’t get a chance to finish. The side mirror explodes in a shower of glittering shards of glass, accompanied by a sharp clang as something grazes across the bonnet.

“Fucking shit!” Johnny spits as Andy hits the brakes. They are swallowed by the swirling cloud of dust that envelopes them from behind. It drifts into the Toyota, adding another layer to the brown tint of the interior. There is a commotion to their left and a shadowy apparition appears through the dust. They see a horse stepping nervously sideways alongside Johnny’s window, the legs of a rider visible below the roof line.

Andy opens the door and jumps out. He takes in the sight of the horse, breathing heavily, still trying to step sideways in nervousness or the expectation of unleashing a burst of remaining energy. Andy squints his eyes to make out the rider trying to hold the horse steady. One hand holds the reins while the other holds a handgun. Over his years in the bush he has seen a lot and had a few surprises. He may look like a grizzled, worn-out old timer but is still as sharp as a drover’s knife.

“If I ain’t mistaken, that looks a lot like Charcoal’s horse. And a lady with a gun! I got the feeling this’s go’n to be a good story.”

Alex gasps with relief. “I had to get your attention! I nearly missed you!”

“You didn’t bloody miss us lady!” Andy exclaims as he walks toward her, pointing at the bonnet and the side mirror. “I’d say that’s a bloody good hit!”

It takes her a moment to realise what he is pointing at and understand what happened. “Sorry! I was desperate. You almost got away!”

“What the fuck’s goin’ on!” Johnny exclaims as he climbs out to join Andy.

Alex realises she is still holding the Colt. She flicks the safety on, drops the hammer, and tucks it into her belt before dismounting. She caresses Thor’s head and neck, a priority that doesn’t escape Andy’s notice, nor her ability to handle the big pistol. “Charcoal’s been shot. He’s alive, but hurt, with a friend of mine. Another man has been shot. He’s dead. The man who killed him and his son are heading out, maybe stopping at the homestead. We stayed with Stuart a few nights ago. We need your help!”

At this broadside of unexpected information, Johnny opens his mouth to ask questions but Andy puts his hand up to stop him. He’s dealt with more than his share of crises in the past and has learned the hard way that pointless questions just waste time. The lady has given him the gist of a bad situation in as few words as possible. He doesn’t need any more, not right now at least. “Johnny, break out the water for Thor and the lady.” To Alex, he says, “Where’s Charcoal?”

Alex gathers her thoughts before responding. “I can’t say exactly where. I’ve been riding since yesterday afternoon. Back over the ridge and over the ridge before that,” she explains, pointing with her arm. I got to the second ridge last night, found water below the peak, just as Charcoal described. He said you’d be here, if I was lucky.” She accepts a mug of water from Johnny.

Andy estimates the distances and times in his mind, takes a look at Thor and the woman and makes a string of decisions. “You did well lady! That’s a hell of a ride in that time and Thor could go further after a rest. If you’d missed us, he’d a got you out. I’m Andy, this is Johnny,” holding out a hand hardened and calloused by years of outback work.

Alex shakes their hands and takes the mug away from her mouth just long enough to give her name. The ride has dehydrated her more than she’s imagined. She moves over to the ute to fill a bucket with water, ready for Thor to drink after his body has cooled down after the hard ride.

“Give me a minute,” Andy says while Alex organises the water. He climbs back into the Toyota, picks up the microphone and switches frequencies on the radio. “Charlie Tango X-Ray, this is Narraburra ground. You reading me?”

It doesn’t take long for a reply to come back through the ether, sharp and professional. “Charlie Tango X-ray, reading you fives.”

“Hi Billy! We need you back ’ere. We’re a few clicks southeast of the tank.”

“Charlie Tango X-ray copied. What’s up?”

“Explain when you’re on the ground Billy. Out!”

“Tango X-ray,” Billy acknowledges, not wasting words.

Andy moves to his next priority. “How bad’s Charcoal?”

“Broken wrist, broken rib I think. Some other injuries. He was hit by a shotgun. He’s hurt but he’ll live. There’s another couple of guys out there somewhere as well. One’s the brother of the man who was killed and the other is with Charcoal.” Alex is equally economical with her words. Time is precious. Besides, she needs to gather her thoughts about how much to tell.

“The other one might be Davey, Charcoal’s mate,” Andy concludes. “These fellas who did the shooting. Where are they?”

“They’re heading back out. They might go past the homestead or they might go to it. They’re unpredictable, dangerous bastards!”

Andy considers that information and realises there is a lot more to the story. Now isn’t the time to hear it. He’ll wait for Billy. “Johnny, get the kettle going! Alex might want something to eat. Boil some eggs, get some beans on and some bread. It’s all we got, Alex, sorry.”

“I’m not complaining!” Alex replies with a spirit Andy admires. He is even more impressed when she checks Thor over and then chips in to help Johnny. With that side of things under control, Andy finds an open patch on the track not far from the vehicle, clears it of stray debris and waits for Billy to arrive. Soon they hear the unmistakable sound of rotors thrashing the air, starting as a gentle vibration and gradually building to the familiar whop, whop, whop that never loses its thrill for Andy. He would have loved to fly but never found the time or the money. The money side being the hardest!

He watches Billy fly an orbit around them and indicates the landing ground, as Billy bleeds off the airspeed, juggling the cyclic, collective and throttle controls to settle the R44 gently on its skids among the cloud of dust sucked up by the rhythmic, thrashing beat of the rotors.

Billy lets the dust settle, finishes his checks then climbs out to join them with his distinctive swagger, on legs that would have suited a cavalry officer from the American West. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon, mate!” His eyes take in the camp fire, Thor, Johnny and the woman crouched next to him.

“We have a problem,” Andy says as they walk over to the fire. “This is Alex. Alex this is Billy, our fly boy.” As they shake hands, Andy continues, “Alex has ridden hard since yesterday to find us. She almost missed us. Charcoal is in trouble.”

For all his laid-back, dusty appearance, Billy is as sharp as a boar’s tusk. He takes in the pistol tucked into Alex’s belt, the shattered side mirror and the damage to the bonnet of the Toyota. “Doesn’t look like there’s been much miss’n go’n on here!” he says dryly. He studies the woman under the dust and sweat. His glance is admiring but respectful. Alex knows these boys don’t see many women out here. She doesn’t acknowledge the look in any way.

Andy takes control again. “Let’s grab some coffee and tucker and hear what Alex has to say.”

They grab the drinks Johnny offers while Alex balances a plate of eggs, beans and bread on her lap. She tucks a coffee into the dust beside her. She talks for a good ten minutes around mouthfuls of food and none of the boys interrupt. She debates whether to leave out the bit about the plane but shares it with them. If they are going to help, they need all the information.

When she finishes, Billy asks the first question. “This guy Decker sounds like real bad news. What’s driving him?”

Alex hesitates. The fly boy is sharper than she expects.

Johnny and Andy turn to look at him and then back at Alex, as if they think the question is so obvious they should have thought of it themselves.

Struggling with the confrontation it presents, Alex throws her reluctance aside. She is dealing with real men who know their place in the world and are confident in themselves with nothing to prove. She opens up and talks a while longer while they listen intently. Maybe it is the stress of the ride or the strange environment, well outside her normal comfort zone. Perhaps it is the willingness of these outback men to listen that encourages Alex to pour everything out. When she finishes, she shows them her arms, pointing wordlessly to the knife wounds where she has fought Decker off. She stands, pulls up her top and they wince in unison at the bruise smeared across her stomach in a swirling mix of purple and blue. She points out more knife scars then turns around to show them her back.

“Have a look. The cigarette burns are still there.”

They stare at the scars. Alex sits back down and finishes off the bread and beans, which are cold but welcome. Never has she appreciated food as much as this rough meal by a fire in the company of these men.

“The prick sounds like a total bastard!” Johnny says.

“Where do I find Charcoal and the other bloke?” Billy asks.

“Like I said,” Alex replies. “a half day’s ride from the second ridge but before a billabong. That must make it north, northeast from here. When Jed hears you coming, he’ll do something to alert you.”

Andy looks at Billy, who nods carefully and then at Johnny before taking the lead once again. “Billy, I need you to find Charcoal and Jed and get ’em back here. Johnny, Alex, you need to get a bed ready in the back of the Toyota for Charcoal and then organise some food for both of them. I’ll let the boss know. Better get the first aid kit ready as well. Once they’re back here, we’ll decide the next step.”

“Thanks guys,” Alex says. “I’m real sorry to dump all this on you. I had no idea things would turn out like this!”

“No worries,” Johnny replies quickly. “That bastard sounds badder than anything I can imagine.”

“Leave it with us, Alex,” Andy says. He goes over to the Toyota, picks up the mic and sets the radio for the station frequency. “Stuart, this is Andy. You on the air?” He waits a while and then repeats the call twice more.

He is rewarded by a scratchy voice with a still recognisable drawl. “Reading you Andy! How you doing?” Stuart asks casually.

“We’re okay Stuart. A problem’s come up. We got this lady Alex with us. Best to fill you in face to face but there may be a couple of guys coming through the property or to the house. It’d be best if you didn’t deal with them.”

There is silence as Stuart thinks about that. Andy knows he understands their conversation will reach out as far as the radio waves can take it. “Charcoal found some tracks near the house a few nights back,” Stuart informs him after a pause.

“Charcoal’s involved. He’s got a problem as well. Billy’s going to find him and the bloke with him,” Andy adds carefully.

Stuart senses there is much Andy isn’t saying but puts things together. “Understood. Thanks for the head’s up. Wife’s due back today. You handle things your end. I’ll manage this end and be on air in the ‘cruiser.”

“I’ll be in touch. Remember, you don’t want to deal with these guys,” Andy finishes. He has faith that Stuart will heed the double warning.

Billy has been calculating his fuel load and the addition of two extra bodies. “I can do it,” he announces. “I should be back in a couple of hours easy. Have me a coffee ready, Johnny!”

They watch Billy walk back to the chopper, complete his automatic walk around the machine and climb in. None of them really understands what he is doing but can appreciate the precision of fingers dancing over switches and his concentration as the rotors begin turning and the dust starts to rise.

From a cloud of swirling red dust, Billy lifts the helicopter into the air, hovers just above the ground for a few vital moments while he completes his last checks and then launches into the cloudless blue sky. The waiting time has started.

Miranda Brockman controls the big Landcruiser with the same confidence she handles her horses, works the bolt on her Remington rifle or tosses a stir fry to perfection. She flicks a stray strand of long black hair out of her eyes as she holds the big vehicle steady on a speed that minimises the jarring vibrations of the endless corrugations carpeting the red gravel road. Her dark brown eyes flick to the rear-view mirror that captures only part of the swirling column of dust rising lazily behind them, then dart left and right to check for stock on the unfenced road leading them closer to Narraburra with each thump of the suspension. Her eyes carry a hint of deep mystery, lit by sparkles of light giving away the zest for life she inherited from the mother who sits bedside her in companionable silence.

She glances sideways at Ruby. In spite of her age, Ruby is still wiry and strong, unbent by the struggles endured throughout her life. It has not been easy, carving a life for herself without the support of a mother or father and a husband killed by the unforgiving nature of the land. She has done her best to bring up a daughter alone, having nothing to pass on except courage, strong values and a determination to live.

Ruby senses Miranda’s glance. Their eyes meet across the console and a knowing smile passes meaningfully between them. “Thanks for getting me out of the house,” Ruby says. In retirement she’s withdrawn into the isolation of her home, nestled within the security of the red country she is so familiar with. It’s been a while since she has seen her daughter and Stuart. Phones and email are poor substitutes for face to face contact. “I appreciate you making the effort.”

“That’s okay,” Miranda replies. “A few days together will be great and you never know, we may put up with each other for longer,” she jokes but is also half serious. She loves her mother but at times her intensity is a bit hard to take. She has delivered much to her people but the determination that has driven it has also been difficult to take for a daughter growing into adulthood.

Miranda has finally come to understand what has eaten away at her mother over the years. The guilt always there, nibbling away like rats on a corpse. The corpse of Ruby’s father lying unburied somewhere in the vast expanse of country must have been a nagging burden to bear. In spite of Ruby’s best intentions, she has never been able to get back out there to find him. Now her memories of her father are shadowy things in the distant recesses of her mind. Not much on which to base a journey into the wilderness to look for him.

“Just relax mum,” Miranda says. “Only a couple of hours and we’ll be there. It’ll be great to spend some time together. Peace and quiet, good food and lots of time to talk.” Miranda hopes the days together will work out. She swings the ‘cruiser around a nest of wheel ruts, slashed into the red dirt like sabre cuts, that the grader missed on its last pass over the road.