Published: 26 Feb 2018

McBride had called a rare meeting with his boys, indicating he had important information on future cane pricing and land usage but in reality it was nothing more than his need to reinforce his dominance over them. Of late it had crossed his mind they were beginning to make their own choice on how business should be handled, while even William had negated some of his decisions. True they may be been good judgement but William should have asked first.

By his appearance the old man seemed to be somewhat intoxicated, as while sharing his so called information he became repetitious, often slurring his words, confused and if it was conceivable possible, mistaking Daniel with Lachlan, while as usual with the twins he would announce a name without making eye contact, hoping the correct twin would answer.

Once the meeting was at an end and McBride satisfied he had once again imposed his will, he topped up his intoxication from a new whisky bottle. Lachlan remained behind with a question.

“Father when Stephen Henderson is back on his feet, could we use him around the farm?” Lachlan asked, keeping his request soft and simple, so not to appear to be eager.

“Ask William.”

“I already have and he said it was fine by him but I should ask you.”

“Well so be it.”

“What are you going to do with the Henderson property?” Lachlan quietly asked.

“It isn’t any good for cane, probably run cattle.” The old man abruptly announced, showing a measure of agitation as Martha entered the room. Quickly he departed for the shade of the verandah, indicating for Lachlan to follow.

“I don’t know about Henderson’s kid working here.” He spoke after some deliberation.

“Why would that be father?” Lachlan softly questioned.

“The two of you spend too much time together.”

“I suppose that is natural, we grew up together and the Henderson’s were neighbours, I think of Stephen as I do my brothers.” Lachlan appeared to be side-stepping the emphases the old man placed on spending time together, unsure of the insinuation.

“Then there’s the two of you running wild with the blacks and that could be considered a bad influence.”

Lachlan remained silent.

“I’ve tried to dissuade you from mixing with the blacks but no you have to disobey, you always were headstrong.” There was a pause in the old man’s accusation and as the alcohol took control of his thoughts he continued.

“You do realize boy I’ve never trusted you are my kid.”

“Why would you think that father?” Lachlan had heard it all before but never from the mouth of his father.

“There was a travelling salesman and he had red hair.”

“So has mother’s brother and two cousins and if I’m not your son, then neither would Robert or Daniel be your sons and they are the image of you.” Lachlan realise he was stretching image a little but there was enough recognition in the two to suggest they were their father’s sons.

The old man appeared to be confused, there was much truth in Lachlan’s argument and a slant he had not thought of before but a life time of accusation and belief could not be swayed by one statement from a son he didn’t much like. He returned his thought to Lachlan’s request for Stephen to remain at the farm.

“As for Henderson I don’t know, I’ll think about it,” but almost immediately the old man placed it from his thoughts, along with his son’s argument on his legitimacy.

It was a hot afternoon and McBride wished he had remained in town where at least there was a sea breeze. Here at the farm the verandah was sited to catch any breeze that chanced by but tall forest trees between the house and the sea blocked all but the bravest zephyr and this was a day as still as hell itself.

The old man’s white suit was stained from continuous sweating and his oversized bandanna mopped at the rivulets that descended down his ruddy face and neck. At intervals he fanned himself with his blue bandanna to no avail, while the scotch he drank only increased his body heat. He was now not only hot but drunk and was due back in town before night fall.

“Hey boy, you will have to drive me back to town.” The old man demanded, being obviously too intoxicated to ride, or drive the buggy himself. Downing the last of his scotch he struggled to his feet to depart.

Lachlan quickly descended from the verandah and within a short time had the horse harnessed and the buggy ready for the trip, while tethering his own mount to the rear for his return.

The old man made his way down the stairs, with the help of the rails but couldn’t climb into the buggy without assistance. Then for the first time Lachlan realised how frail his father had become but even with his fragile state he could not find sympathy for the man.

“Come on boy, get a move on.” Jock complained as Lachlan let the horse find its own gait; then with a flick of the whip, it commenced to trot.

Once at the McBride town house Lachlan helped his father to the door but McBride threw off his son’s assistance. “Leave it boy, I’m not some invalid.” He growled pushing Lachlan aside, “about Henderson, he can stay but I’m not paying wages – understand?”

McBride opened the door, entered and closed it behind without a single word of gratitude. Once he was inside the sound of a woman’s voice echoed through the door. It was shrieked and abusive, while not a word was offered in reply by Jock McBride.

Lachlan laughed loudly as he closed the front gate and mounted his horse. “There is a God after all.” He smirked, thinking that for the first time in the old man’s miserable life he was on the receiving end and all for the love of a woman’s scent.

While in town Lachlan called in on an old friend, Michael Duncan, who during Lachlan’s youth had been a mentor of sorts, teaching him to shoot and ride. Duncan was one man Lachlan could trust not to relate anything back to his father and was considered by many to be the last honest person in the district.

Duncan’s shack by the wharf was run down and had to be propped up with poles on one side to prevent it falling over, while its mud-brick chimney had torn away from the structure of the shack and the gap between covered with rusting corrugated iron. Still it kept out most of the weather and in the rainy season was relatively dry. As for the front door, the house’s lean had lost its plumb and was missing true by a good hand’s breadth, while being secured by a piece of fencing wire fed through two drill holes, more to keep the door closed against the weather rather than prevent dishonest entry.

“Lockie my friend, it’s been ages, come in.” The smiling toothless grin of a middle aged man greeted, his face bristling with a weeks worth of grey whiskers, his hand shaking through failing health due to years of bad food and rough living.

The inside of the house was shabby but clean and tidy, reeking of make-do. Upturned boxes as tables and chairs and covered with tattered rugs. There was a cane couch and obviously his pride, a hand down from his sister when she left the district, after marrying a farmer from somewhere north towards Cairns.

“Beer?” Duncan offered and without waiting for an answer withdrew two bottles from a half barrel of water in a section of the two room shack that was obviously his kitchen. He opened the bottles and handed one to Lachlan, who accepted out of courtesy.

“How is that bastard father of yours?” The older man enquired; his face bearing memories of bad dealings with Jock McBride.

“He hasn’t changed.”

“And that good woman your mother?”

“She is fine but suffering and there is little I can do to alleviate it.”

Duncan released a wicked laugh, “What I saw of your father of late, I don’t think she will have long to wait.”

“I do think he is drinking more than usual.” Lachlan perceived.

“I guess when you have as many devils on you back as he does, it would be enough to drive a man to drink but I do say the devils are his own doing.” Duncan conveyed without compassion. Again Lachlan agreed.

“I haven’t seen you since the Capricorn incident.” Duncan reminded.

“That is unforgivable of me but not long after I went west to rescue Stephen.” Lachlan excused.

“Yes I did hear, good timing I will say. How is young Henderson?”

“Fine now but still has a limp.”

The two spent what was left of the afternoon reminiscing old times then with little light remaining Lachlan prepared to depart.

“Would you like to stay for dinner, I have plenty for two?” Duncan offered but Lachlan wished to be home to attend to his patient.

“No thank you Mr. Duncan but I do have a favour to ask of you but my father is not to know.”

“Call me Mick you’ve known me long enough now.”

“Thank you but father must not find out.”

“You can trust me as I wouldn’t give him the time of day.”

Stephen Henderson was becoming restless. His leg had long healed and the plaster cast removed. He still favoured it and limped but daily his strength was returning. At home with his parents he had been hard working from a very young age, when out west his days were long and strenuous. Now his days were long and idle and he was missing his parents. He had also taken to riding over to the family’s farm and sitting in a somewhat depressed state, watching the elements claim back what little remained of his family home.

Lachlan had noticed his friend’s mood and found that every attempt to lighten it had failed. While to make matters worse the Henderson property was to be auctioned within two months, this only added to Stephen’s depression.

“I tell you what, how about the two of us taking a few days up on the Tablelands and you can visit your parents?” Lachlan suggested as they strolled in the dying light towards the black’s camp.

“I think I would like that, can you get time off work?”

Lachlan gave a soft laugh; of late his father seldom came by the farm leaving the running to William but still held tightly to the purse string. As for William he didn’t appear to care what his brothers did, he had an adequate workforce and there was always his shadow, Cameron, to do his bidding. To William, Daniel was no more than a tic and Robert gone, so Lachlan may as well join Robert.

“I suppose I should write to mother and let them know we will be visiting.” Stephen suggested.

“No need.”

“And why would that be Lockie my friend?”

“I’ve already done so and purchased the coach tickets to Cairns.”

“You have been busy; I hope you’re not inviting Daniel to come with us?” Stephen asked and was quickly assured Daniel would not be coming.

Since Stephen’s returned and his stay at the cottage, Daniel had become somewhat hard to shake, not understanding the word no, saying it had become lonely at the big house with only their Mother and Polly for company and that too much female company can weaken your brain. As for Cameron, if not doing William’s bidding, kept to his solitude.

On the occasions Lachlan relented but would make Daniel’s bedding arrangements as uncomfortable as possible, giving him a stretcher with a damaged leg, while the better one was kept for Stephen. Then after time and further deterioration of the damaged stretcher, he had an excuse for Stephen to share his bed, while Stephen’s stretcher became Daniel’s, although it was somewhat uncomfortable with all three sharing the single bedroom of the cottage.

Oddly the new sleeping arrangements didn’t bring about his brother’s usual banter about Lachlan’s relationship with his friend, although he did suggest he could share his brother’s bed and Stephen could have the stretcher. Lachlan was unsympathetic towards Daniel’s proposal, his reasoning being, if he gave his brother too much comfort, he may never leave at all.

“What do you think of building an extra bedroom onto the side of the cottage for Daniel, besides it would give you something to do?” Lachlan canvassed as the lazy smoke from the black’s camp came into view.

“Probably a good idea, he’s always around anyway.” Stephen paused and appeared to be in deep thought.

“What are you intentions for me?” He asked quizzically.

“As I said you can stay as long as you wish.” Lachlan promised.

“That isn’t what I meant.”

They reached the camp without further clarification and immediately ran into Yarran as he organised a group of children in a game of catch, using a possum skin stuffed with grass as a ball.

“Hey you two whatya upta?” Yarran sent the children to play alone and joined company with the two.

“Come over to see you.” Stephen greeted.

“You two are like a couple of Galahs.” Yarran declared.

“Why Galahs?” Lachlan enquired.

“They mate for life eh.” Yarran advised giving a cheeky grin.

“Funny boy, where is everyone?” Lachlan growled.

“They in the scrub getting ready for a big Corroboree,”

“Secrete business?” Lachlan asked.

“Little secrete business now days; mostly excuse to get pissed eh? Do you two go to church with reverend boss?” Yarran asked, inviting them to sit in the shade of his humpy.

“Na I don’t believe in all that.” Lachlan exclaimed while turning his nose up as if he had smelt some stink, “anyway what’s brought on that question?”

“That reverend fella was over here this morning and wants to send the children with white fathers to some school.” Yarran wasn’t amused with it all and soon gave his account of Marsden.

“What did you elders say to that?” Lachlan asked.

“The reverend said it was god’s wish, you white fellers have funny God eh. He lives up there near the stars and tells Reverend Marsden what to say.”

Yarran shook his head in a show of disbelief, “He sends big water and big winds and bush fires. He kills little children and still you get down on your knees and give him good words.”

“Not me.” Lachlan protested.

“Nor do I,” Stephen concurred.

“Us black fellers think those stars up there near your God are the spirits of our ancestors and the earth was created by other spirits.” Yarran paused and after a long thought continued, “Maybe you’re right Kari; maybe both lots are mad eh.”

“You are more than likely correct my friend.” Lachlan agreed, not wishing to start a theological debate.

“Yarran how come you never gave me an Aboriginal name, I’ve known you all as long as Lachlan has?” Henderson enquired.

“You don’t have the same spirit as Kari, when I look at you I only see Stephen. When I look at Kari I see his black man’s spirit behind him.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in all that?” Stephen asked.

“I believe in spirits.” Yarran answered, his body shuddered at the thought. “Hey Stephen what’s happening with your farm?” Yarran asked changing the subject away from black man’s ways.

“It’s to be sold to the highest bidder.”

“That be funny, it was once black fella’s land; no one gave us money for it. Along come Mr. McBride and say, hey you black fella clear outa here it is white man’s land now.”

Stephen didn’t answer. He couldn’t, while his only defence was his family purchased the property from a Tobias Joliffe who bought it from a fellow called Tompkins, who may have stolen it from the Aborigines but that wasn’t his problem. Anyway he no longer had ownership therefore the argument was somewhat academic.

“The land is black fella’s land you can never own the land but the house was your’s and I am sorry it burnt down.” Yarran sympathised.

“I have a question Yarran, if you were to rebuild a house on that land where would you build it?” Lachlan asked.

“Are you gonna build a new house?” Yarran asked.

“No, I was more interested in what you thought.” Lachlan responded.

“I wouldn’t make a house.” Yarran answered showing defiance, believing it pointless building such a large structure only for sleeping, while cooking should be done outside and shitting deep in the forest.

“I know that but if you did where would you?”

Yarran thought for a while.

“I wouldn’t put it anywhere near where it was. Bad magic to build over the dead and if I had to, I would behind the hill at the far corner.”

“Why is that?”

“Big wind Kari, when it comes, it would be safe there.”

“There had been storms in the past and nothing happened this far from the coast.” Lachlan declared.

“Big winds Kari and it will come.” Yarran repeated as the children returned in tears.

“What’s the matter with you lot?” Yarran asked in language of the boys.

“Billy took the ball and won’t play and hid it somewhere in the forest.” The lead lad answered tearfully.

“You go tell Billy to play fair or I’ll get goanna spirit to eat him.”

“Billy said he’s not afraid of goanna spirit and will hit him with a stick.” The lad reported.

“Go along and play, I’ll speak with Billy in a little while.” Yarran sent the boys away with a deep worrying sigh.

“Is Billy becoming a problem?” Lachlan asked.

“He is and growing so fast he doesn’t seem to know his strength, he is also questioning tradition.”

“What can be done about him?” Lachlan asked.

“Nothing, only hope he will grow out of it.” Yarran sighed once more and excused himself to find the wayward lad.

On the return to the farm the two met William and Cameron as they finished their work for the day. Walking part of the way Lachlan and Stephen parted company with the twins at the main gate, leaving them in conversation regarding the following days work.

“See you tomorrow,” Lachlan acknowledged and continued on his way home. William paused appearing to be somewhat lost in his own thought.

“What is the problem, you’ve hardly spoken a word all day?” Cameron asked.

William waited until Lachlan was at some distance before answering. “It’s nothing to do with you.” He growled and shouldered his hoe. Arrogantly he stepped ahead of his brother.

“You haven’t been the same since Lucy gave the good news.” William paused.

“I suppose it has something to do with you.” He retracted.

“What does it feel like to be a father?” Cameron appeared most proud to think William, his hero, was to be a father, equally proud he was to be an uncle, even more so than with the birth of their sister’s children.

“That’s the problem, it won’t be mine, will it?.” William became most dispirited and again commenced to walk away from the conversation.

During their charade William was unconcerned towards pregnancy, he hardly displayed respect for Lucy, never mind love but time had softened his sentiment and a measure of regard, even love had developed, making him feel most uncomfortable with his past actions.

Now with the pending birth he was totally dejected and hated himself for his prank, even as far as blaming Cameron for his part. Cameron being an adult, even if somewhat slow to understand the finer subtleties of life, should have had the decency to have said no.

“Then William whose baby is it?” Cameron asked somewhat puzzled by his brother’s accusation.

“Probably your’s you dumb bastard!” William exclaimed loudly, “I should never have agreed to letting you do it.”

“You know well I didn’t wish to.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“That is the truth of it all William, I didn’t do it.” Cameron apologised.

“What, you didn’t have sex with Lucy?”

“I did have sex.” Cameron continued.

“Then what the fuck do you mean, you didn’t do it?”

Cameron burst into a broad smile, “I said at the time it wasn’t the correct thing to do and I pulled out and didn’t, you know, do it. I spilt it outside.”

“You what?” William appeared to be stunned.

“I didn’t make the baby and you said you also had sex with Lucy when you returned to your bed. The baby is yours William, not mine.” William dropped his hoe and wrapped his arms around Cameron’s shoulders, “Cameron – I love you brother you dumb bastard,” he commenced to shout, “I love you brother and I love the world.”

Gary really wants to know if you are reading his story. You may let him know, by dropping an email to him: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net.

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