Published: 2 Dec 2020

The evening was hot without suggestion of change while the air hung damp. It was Ned’s proposal and Hamish quickly agreed but Logan wished to remain behind to speak privately with Edward.

“Coming?” Ned asked and nodded towards the steps and was descending before Hamish had time to answer.

“Where?” Hamish asked.

“Swimming,”

“It will be dark soon,”

“There will be enough light besides it’s a full moon tonight and we can keep to the shallows near the washout.”

“I guess so, what about you Logan, you’re starting to smell like that dog of yours,” Hamish roughly indicted as the two departed.

“No thank you.”

“He’s shy and doesn’t want anyone to notice he got a small pizzle,” Ned laughed.

“It’s bigger than yours!” Logan snapped.

“Have you been peaking brother?”

“He’s got you there Ned,” Hamish agreed as both left Logan in the company of Edward.

“Don’t take any notice of them,” Edward advised as the brothers footsteps faded along the gravel path beside the house.

“I don’t,”

“You appear to have something on your mind,” Edward suggested.

“I still want to try my luck down south.”

“Is that all?”

“Among other things, would you like me to get you a beer?” Logan offered to distract Edward away from his concern.

“Not for me but if you want one.”

“Not at the moment.”

As Logan spoke Ned returned and shouted from the bottom of the verandah steps.

“Logan!”

Logan advanced to the railing and leant into the evening, “what?”

“You left the bloody yard gate open and one of the horses is in the vegetable patch.”

“Not me; Hamish was last through when he was looking for a shovel, he wanted to remove the horseshit from the path.”

“He said it was you.”

“He would, I’ll go and send it back,” Logan offered without arguing the fact of blame.

“Don’t bother it is already done.”

“Then why bother me with it?”

“It was Hamish’s idea; he thought you may need waking up.”

Again quiet as Logan took his seat. Eventually he spoke, “that is what I mean.”

“Your brother is finding the strain of running the farm that is all,” again Edward apologised for Hamish.

“It’s not only that.”

“I’ve spoken to Hamish about you travelling but he won’t budge and takes his promise to your father most seriously.”

Logan took a deep breath and fell silent while Edward allowed him thinking time to approach his problem in his own way.

Eventually Logan spoke, “I will have that beer.”

“Take that one on the table, I’ve had enough.”

“Chance said I should simply ride out, we simply pack a bag and just leave.”

“Chance can be a little headstrong at times, are you sure this enterprise of yours isn’t his suggestion?”

“No it was my idea but he didn’t need convincing.”

“You like Chance?”

“We grew up together and he’s more a brother than Hamish or Ned. I wouldn’t leave if you said not to do so,” Logan promised.

“I would never go against Hamish, or give you permission but would understand if you did.” Edward’s words appeased Logan’s concern but he would have preferred Edward to have given him consent, although Edward’s words did enhance his decision, only now how to execute his leaving and when.

“When did you meet James?” Logan asked, as James had his accident when Logan was quite young and the image of James had almost gone from his inward mind, leaving only the kindness he had shown and a vague shadow deep in his memory.

“It was back in Devon, James family had the adjacent farm,” Edward freely admitted.

“Did your parents know about your association with James?”

“Association?” Edward laughed.

“Then your relationship.”

“There is an entire history in that answer. To put it simply, my folks found out when I was arrested and charged but my father was once in Nelson’s navy and understood the ways of men.”

“Why were you charged?” Logan asked.

“I was charged for raping James,” Edward honestly answered.

“I don’t understand.”

“We were caught together in the hayloft and James’ father and brother held us captive until the constable arrived. I was falsely accused and condemned to the gallows; my sentence was then commuted to transportation.”

“What about James was he charged as well?”

“No his father and my father had bad blood since I could remember and James father and brother could be quite disturbing at times. It also helped that he was in the pocket of the local magistrate, so having me charged was a way of revenge against my family.

“I never knew.”

“No and to be honest no one except your father and Sam our benefactor knew and that is only half the story, the rest I will leave where it belongs in the past.”

“Do you miss James?”

“Where is this conversation heading Logan?” Edward quizzically asked.

“I’m only curious, that is all.”

“Are you sure it doesn’t have foundation in your relationship with Chance?”

“Am I that transparent Edward?”

“Quite so, you are more your father than you think.”

“I thought Hamish more so,” Logan suggested.

“It was your father’s eyes; they would give away any secret hiding there in, as do yours.”

Logan gave a happy smile as Edward continued. “You were always his favourite although he never let it show, that is why he asked Hamish to take care of you.”

“Why not yourself,”

“No reason, possibly he thought I may demise before you came of age, besides Hamish was always strong on family.”

Logan walked to the verandah railing and leant into the night. His secret was almost out and it would only take a single word of acknowledgement to reach a new level of understanding between himself and Edward but was he prepared to take that final step? He was then distracted by a barking sound.

“Barking owl,” Edward said.

“It’s in that tree over there.” Logan pointed into the dark.

“When we first came here we encountered them sounding more like some woman being murdered.”

“I’ve heard it but not for a long time. I think they are loosing the call.” Logan envisaged.

“Calls with most birds are different depending where they live.”

“I guess so,”

“Birds,” Edward said.

“Why so Edward?”

“I don’t think it is the sound of birds that concerns you.”

Nervously Logan searched his vocabulary for the right words but they were sadly absent. A number of times he took a breath to speak but each time he held back, so he again referred to the relationship between Edward and James.

“You really loved James?”

“That is a silly question Logan.”

“What I actually mean is how did you know you were in love with James?”

“I can’t answer that in simple words but if you are attempting to describe your feelings then I am prepared to offer you a sympathetic ear,” Edward softly commented. After a short pause he continued; “do you think you are in love with Chance?”

Logan gave a nervous chortle.

“Well are you,” Edward softly asked.

“I don’t know,” Logan pulled back from the edge of exposure but left enough to give Edward understanding.

“What does Chance think?” Edward asked.

“He said so,” at last it was out and the dogs of fear were gone.

“Are you and Chance active?”

“Yes sort of – no – well again sort of.”

“My advice is to go with your feelings as often you don’t get a second opportunity in life but remember you can approach me at any time so don’t bottle it up.” As Edward spoke there was a commotion along the path beside the house as the brothers returned, Hamish still loudly complaining about the open gate.

“You wouldn’t tell them?” Logan gasped.

“You should know me better than to do so Logan.”

“Are you two plotting again?” Hamish called from the steps.

“Sure are,” Logan admitted.

“Not that gold fossicking idea again?”

“No Hamish, I was talking to Edward about the old days.” Logan answered.

“Do you want a beer Uncle?” Hamish offered Edward as he reached the verandah.

“Not for me,”

“What about you Logan, or have you already started?”

“It was Uncle Edward’s I only had a swig.”

“Then another?”

“If you are offering,”

“I wasn’t but you can fetch them and remember to close the bloody gate next time.”

“Sure will boss,”

“Huh,”

“You can get me one as well kid,” Ned suggested while hanging their wet towels over the verandah rail.

“What was the water like?” Edward asked.

“Cold,” Hamish complained.

“It’s always cold,” Ned added.

“It should make you feel alive.” Edward suggested.

“There is something going on across the river at the camp, they are kicking up a right racket.” Ned said.

“It’s that time of the year,” Edward admitted.

“For what?”

“Initiation for the young men,” Logan called back from the kitchen.

“Trust you to know; you’re halfway black anyway.” Hamish growled as Edward reached for his book, he fumbled and it fell to the floor. Hamish collected the book and passed it to Edward. “Are you alright,” he whispered noticing Edward’s fumble.

“Yes – why do you ask?”

“You don’t appear to be your usual self.”

“I’m fine Hamish, I assure you.”

Logan returned with the beer, “are you sure you don’t want one Uncle Edward?”

“Not for me young fellow, I’ll be calling it a night soon.”

Hamish once again questioned Edward on this wellbeing.

“I am fine Hamish, a little tired that’s all.”

“You know what they do during initiation of the young men,” Logan asked as he offered up the beers.

“I should think you are about to tell us.” Hamish said

“Well one thing they do is called a whistle dick.”

Hamish gave Logan a look of disbelief, “what the fuck is that?”

“They cut the underneath along the piss tube.”

“Bullshit Logan you’re full of it,” Hamish barked.

“They do,” Edward admitted while appearing to be enjoying Hamish’s discomfort.

“Why would they do that?” Ned asked from the shadows at the end of the verandah.

“Dunno, do you know Edward?” Logan asked.

“Don’t rightly know but I’ve see the result.”

Hamish gave a physical shudder.”

“I wouldn’t worry Hamish you haven’t enough to cut,” Logan assumed.

“Fuck you Logan.” Hamish growled.

“How come you know all this?” Ned asked.

“He hangs about with them enough it’s a wonder they haven’t grabbed him and cut it off,” Hamish suggested.

“No its private business they won’t even talk about it but I have seen the result.” Logan admitted.

“Unlike you I don’t go around looking at men’s pizzles.” Hamish protested.

With the shearing season in progress Logan had little time to visit Chance but all the while their developing enterprise was foremost in his thoughts, also Chance’s suggestion they simply leave without goodwill from Hamish. Logan did meet with Chance while in town collecting supplies but with Sam present not a lot was discussed although Logan promised he would once again speak with Hamish.

On Logan’s return with the supplies he found the house in solum state, “what’s going on?” he asked Ned as he entered.

“It’s Edward he’s dying and is asking for you,” As Ned spoke Hamish came from Edward’s room, his face ashen while obviously attempting to hold back his emotions.

“What took you so long?” Hamish demanded.

“I called in for a while to visit Chance,”

“You better get in there Edward is asking for you, I was about to saddle up and come and look for you.”

Logan quickly advanced to Edward’s side and took his hand. It felt cold and listless, his eyes closed against the bright of the late afternoon and his breathing rattled. “Edward,” Logan softly spoke as emotion choked in his throat.

“Logan,” Edward whispered in a half breath of air. His eyes opened to have one last gaze upon the lad but even the strength to keep them open had gone.

“Don’t go Edward I need you.”

Edward forced a final smile, “you follow that dream Logan,” and was gone.

It was quite dark before Logan left Edward’s side and came upon his brothers. “Are you alright?” Ned asked sympathetically, himself obviously moved by Edward’s passing.

“I guess so,” Logan turned to Hamish who appeared composed but that was Hamish who seldom displayed feelings as if doing so would steel part of his persona.

“Leave him now Logan, Edward had a good innings and he wouldn’t want you pining,” Hamish said.

“What next?” Logan asked as if a large part of their reason for existence had gone with Edward’s passing.

“We’ll lay him with James, he would wish for that,” Ned suggested while fighting back the tears.

“Yes with James,” Hamish aimlessly agreed and drifted from the conversation.

“Should we have a reverend to say some words,” Logan asked.

“Edward didn’t believe in religion so it would be hypercritical,” Ned reminded as he set the evening table for four. Realising his folly he removed the fourth plate. Then with little response towards eating he once again cleared the table.

“No we can lay him to rest, we don’t need the false deliberation of some whisky priest lying over his rest and saying the obvious, what a fine chap he was,” Hamish quickly discredited.

“The dinner’s ready if anyone is interested,” Ned called from the stove as what he had prepared earlier took on an overcooked texture. He put the pot aside to prevent it from burning.

“Naught for me,” Logan declined.

“Nor I,” Hamish concurred and departed the house for the security of darkness where he could grieve privately.

“What now?” Logan all but whispered.

Ned shrugged and binned the meal.

Neither spoke further as words would not, could not lighten their mood.

There was a funeral for Edward and most of the town’s folk came to offer respect, also many elders from the native camp who sat silently at distance then once the funeral was conveyed they commenced to sing. It was a slow dirge and one expressed for someone of their tribe with importance, an elder or one with medical knowledge or story teller. Their dark bodies dusted with ash as they beet rhythm sticks in a slow hypnotic measure, while many of their clan watch the procedure from across the river.

Hamish conceded to the suggestion on having a religious presence, as reverend Gareth Cameron of the Methodist persuasion had been a close and valued friend to Edward and wished to speak over the lowering of his remains into the ground. In doing so he honoured Hamish’s wishes keeping religion from his eulogy but on one occasion found it necessary to mention Edward was at rest in the bosom of the lord. Hamish cringed at its mentioning but allowed it to pass without comment.

After the funeral Chance came to Logan. With the sight of his friend’s grief he wished to throw his arms around him but a simple offered hand was all etiquette would allow. The warmth of touch was comforting with emotion flowing in both direction and so strong the connection had to be broken to avoid advancing further.

“I’m alright,” Logan bravely assured and indicated for Chance to come aside, “I do have report.”

Chance listened with interest while keeping a distant eye on his brother Sam, who never missed a trick in finding fault and report back to their father on his shortcomings.

“Edward’s last words were I should follow my dream.”

Chance jolted with happiness but said nothing.

“I’ll speak with you later,” Logan whispered and rejoined the gathering as it dispersed from the graveside towards the house to celebrate Edward’s life and community spirit.

Once everyone had gone Logan became eager for his own company and at the river bank he contemplated his future while observing the native camp on the opposite side. He remembered its presence from when he was a boy and how Edward had often commented on it being there when he took up selection. For a time there had been friction but with the help of Edward’s black friend Bahloo there developed compromise between the camp and Elsie Downs.

It was different then, the natives now appeared subdued, relying on handouts from the foreign overlords, while loosing sense of dreaming and the knowledge handed down, word by word, for more than forty thousand years, possibly even longer, now replaced with white fears, with white religion mixed with myth and legend to become a strange concoction not belonging to their own or to the new.

Yet as a lad Logan had made some trusting friends of the dark boys. Their games would be wild and free and he would often be found naked within the scrub, they poking humour at his white appendage, he at theirs saying they must have been overcooked on the way out of their mother’s bellies.

The local community frowned indomitably towards Logan’s association with the natives but Edward quietly encouraged, saying eventually both black and white would need to live as one, as there was now no way to reverse the white invasion and like the countries of Europe would need to mix their blood and become a new tribe of people.

Edward had from the first day befriended the natives and gained their trust, often stepping between confrontation while spears were lifted and guns were aimed. Even as far as receiving a slight wounding to his shoulder from a bullet graze, as one nervous cattleman became overzealous, in an attempt to remove the natives from the droving of their cattle.

With the memory of the wounding incident Logan released a smile. He was but nine years old at the time and had been watching the situation develop from his side of the river. A herd of cattle had crossed the bridge heading north to cattle country when the lead took a left turn and came upon the native camp. After some superficial damage to the camp the standoff between cattlemen and natives occurred.

Logan remembered the shot quite vividly and the shooters expression on wounding one of his own. Logan also remembered Edward’s look of disbelief but how quickly he calmed and took control of the situation.

‘Who was the shooter?’ Logan thought.

‘George Webb,’ he surmised.

‘No it was the tall Irishman, fresh from the old country on a retainer, sent out by his family over some disgrace. Yes I remember it was Pat Ryan and he left the district soon after.’

A voice from across the river brought Logan back into the sunlight. Shading the glare from his sight he recognised Mowan a native born in the same year as he and friend from first consciousness. Also the lad was one of few from the camp given a form of education from the local Anglican school.

“Logie,”

“Mowan what are you doing?”

“Talking to you what do you think I’m doing?”

“I’ll come across.” Logan offered then though better of the long walk to the bridge and he wasn’t in mood for the swimming.

“Not today, private men’s business no white bugger invited.”

“Suite yourself,”

“I hear Edward died?” Mowan called softly across the river.

“Yes we buried him today.”

“Bad times Logie we will miss him, especially old Yuka. No backkie from Hamish ay’.”

“I’ll speak with Ned.”

“Gotta’ go Logie.”

Mowan was a strange young man who preferred to weave dilly bags with the woman than hunt with the men. When Logan had asked what it was with Mowan, his family would simply laugh and say Tidda Boorie. Eventually Logan found the translation in Sistergirl, meaning his native friend’s preference was towards boys, although since coming of age Mowan had quietened his character, becoming a renowned story teller and holder of tradition but this was slowly becoming a mixture of white and black with a dash of Christianity.

In the past there had been the occasional suggestion from Mowan but Logan ignored his approaches as he was attracted to white boys and by the time he realised his sexuality Logan was well involved with Chance.

The rejection didn’t appear to trouble Mowan nor discourage his intimations, while it was common belief he found his pleasure elsewhere and with one from the town. Chance suggested it was with Clem Tanner a quiet youth who appeared to enjoy his own company and seldom spoke unless spoken to; even then it would be but a few simple words or a shrug of the shoulders. Dunno’ became Tanner’s nickname as whenever a question was asked of him it was his preferred response.

“What did you mate want?” Ned’s voice made Logan jump as he turned his head into the sunlight towards the intrusion to his solitude.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on folk like that,” Logan snapped.

“Walking isn’t sneaking, what did your mate want?”

“Nothing really, he was only showing sympathy for Edward’s passing.”

“They will miss Uncle Edward,” Ned truthfully admitted as he took seating beside his brother.

“Especially his little gifts of tobacco and treats,” Logan was hopeful his brother would continue the tradition.

“They won’t get anything from Hamish,” Ned admitted from knowledge of their older brother’s sympathy towards such action. To Hamish it was more akin to patronizing than charity.

“True but you could take Edward’s place in doing so.”

“Better it be you Logan, they trust you,”

As Ned spoke a shout arouse across the river, followed by high pitch throat calls from the young boys as they followed the men out of the camp to the initiation grounds. Once past the edge of the camp they were discouraged to advance further but continued with their calls while returning to be with the women. Then silence as the ceremony commenced.

“What do you think of all that dancing about?” Ned asked with obvious disapproval.

“Not much different than a social night at the church hall I should think,” Logan assimilated.

“I hear they sacrifice babies.”

“Do you really believe that?” Logan released a discrediting laugh.

“Na, but it is all hocus-pocus to me and that’s a certainty.”

“You never did warm to the natives,” Logan suggested.

“Warm yes, but unlike you I never found it necessary to run bare-arse through the scrub with them as you did.”

The native camp was once again quiet,

“Yes you can take on the roll of benefactor,” Ned repeated.

Logan stood to the water’s edge and skipped a stone across the slow moving stream. Once, twice, three times plop, plop plonk; then it sunk.

“I won’t be here,” Logan bravely admitted.

“What does that mean?” Ned questioned.

Logan skipped a second stone across the water and watched the ripples ever increase in size until they became part of the energy of the passing river and as silent. His heart jumped with his admission as if it was the first step on a long anticipated journey, even so there was doubt in his ability. Many years of being subjugated by Hamish had stolen much of his bravado but it in part remained deep inside, quietly waiting for opportunity and with Edward’s final blessing on his death bed some of that energy returned.

“Again I ask brother, what are you planning?”

“Chance and I will be going south.”

“I bet Hamish doesn’t know.” Ned gave a grin.

“And don’t you say anything – I will in my own good time.”

“Why south?”

“To Port Phillip and then the goldfields of Ballarat – possibly Bendigo.”

“You do realise Hamish won’t agree to your leaving?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m going anyway.”

Ned felt distress from Logan’s confession. Being the between brother had purpose for him, there was always one above and one below and he fitted well in the middle. With Logan gone the very building blocks of his existence would crumble and it would forever be Hamish pushing downward.

“I don’t want you to go Logan,” Ned quietly spoke.

“There isn’t any future in remaining here, I’m becoming stifled, worse I’m turning into Hamish.”

“This is Chance’s doing.”

“Not at all.”

“When?”

“Soon I should think,”

“What does Piers think of this dumb plan?” Ned asked.

“Chance hasn’t told him yet.”

For a time Ned remained silent, his gaze across the river to the camp. He admired Logan for his courage and wished to be more like his younger brother. Ned had dreams but they didn’t include running sheep or living in isolation. He loved the bright lights of Sydney, the bustle of the streets, to hear the peddlers on their rounds, the call of playing children made him happy and was music to his ears. It was also his pleasure to sit by the water and watch the passing ships but never wishing to travel to their destinations. As for Logan’s adventurous ways, Ned was a sponge and soaked up his brother’s bravado as if it were his own. If Logan went the sponge would dry and Ned believed he would become as parched as the dust blown about by the January winds.

“I dunno’,” Ned simply said and exhaled loudly.

“What don’t you know?”

“What’s the use of it all, why can’t everything remain as it is?”

“But it doesn’t,” Logan discredited.

“It could,”

“What of Uncle Edward, he is gone and there lays a change.” Logan attempted to explain away his brother’s quandary.

Ned released a weak smile, “I remember the days when Uncle Edward and James shared the second house and I asked mother about their relationship. She was carrying you at the time.”

“What did you ask?”

“Would it be Edward or James who had the baby?”

Logan laughed loudly.

“That’s what mother did,”

“What?”

“She laughed and told me to ask dad.”

“Did you?”

“No it was Piers who explained their relationship.”

What was mother like?” Logan again felt the need to be close to their mother.

“I can’t remember what she looked like as I was also quite young when she died, only the colour of her hair and she smelt of Lavender. Did you know dad kept a lock of her hair in a tobacco pouch?”

“I didn’t think dad smoked.”

“He didn’t but he said the leather kept the scent of mother fresh and her memory alive.”

“Is the lock still around?” Logan hopefully asked.

“No it was buried with dad. Hamish placed it in his hand.”

“Is it possible to miss someone you never met?” Logan asked.

“I think so,”

“I miss her Ned, I miss her like crazy; possibly it is because Hamish blames me for her passing.”

“He doesn’t really blame you, only he had an argument with mother on the day you were born.”

“What brought it on?”

“You, Hamish didn’t want another brother to take away our mother’s love.” Ned’s confession drew Logan into obvious sadness; “don’t concern Hamish feels his own guilt as he never had the opportunity to apologise, mother died that very afternoon.”

“He never said,”

“And he never will but the very sight of you reminds him of his failure.”

“Should I say something to Hamish, maybe let him know I understand?”

“No it would only make it worse, he would then feel guilt for his treatment towards you.”

“He hasn’t been all that bad and I can cope well enough with his innuendos.”

“Logan I don’t want you to leave.” Ned firmly declared.

“Sorry brother, I have to for more reasons than I’m prepared to explain.”

“Will you return?”

“I can not answer that question. I think my heart will always be part of the western planes but this is something I must do.” Logan paused and looked upon his brother and could feel Ned’s sadness tug at his emotions, “what of you Ned, what are your aspirations?”

“I have none.”

“You have always preferred town life.”

“Preference,” Ned laughed.

“You should follow your dreams.”

“Unlike you Logan I am prisoner to my disposition and not my dreams.”

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