Published: 23 Oct 2017

Jock McBride was furious, his face flushed red in rage as he met Simpson’s Schooner at the dockside. The enterprise had been almost a total failure. Firstly a calm set upon the ship, then from the tropical north the wind blew strong and drove the ship southwards, loosing many days travelling as they attempted to tack eastwards by north-east, before eventually finding the outer Solomon Islands. Once there inexperience brought Simpson and his crew into immediate confrontation with the natives, who by now were well cautious of the white man’s intentions.

On landing the raiding party was set upon, immediately forcing them back into their boats and only after firing a volley of shots above the native’s heads, did they manage to drive them back into the scrub. Finally there wasn’t anyone to enslave, except for the camp dogs, even they quickly disappeared, tails between their legs, into the scrub.

Some distance along the beach Simpson’s crew chanced upon the village which on entry was discovered to be deserted. There had been cooking in progress but all was abandoned and not a soul to capture, so after scattering the natives’ meagre belongings and upsetting the cooking pots in a fit of frustration, the raiders set sail towards another group of islands. This time it was decided to display a more friendly approach, bearing gifts and without a display of weaponry.

After finding a similar village on the next island they tried barter, which the natives took to be gift offerings but once they spied the crew’s restraints, they realised Simpson’s intentions and also fled into the forest, leaving three youths who were too slow to make their escape. The three along with one middle aged man of impaired gait were coaxed into the long boat and brought aboard and to their terror, were chained and stowed into the cargo hold, the boys defecating with fright while being herded along the deck.

Standing linked together with heavy chains on the McBride’s Point dock, the four cut a pitiful sight. Their wide terrified eyes darted everywhere, while their black near naked bodies quivered in fright as teeth chattered nervously in their mouths. Occasionally the older man would speak to one or another of the boys, who appeared not to hear, their fear had shut of their ability and the strange environment dumbed their tongues.

“You’ll have to take them back!” McBride shouted as Simpson nervously approached offering apologies.

“Why?”

“They would be useless, I expected men not young boys, as for the old man.” McBride pointed to the native’s injured leg.

“Can’t,” Simpson declared sheepishly, his head lowered against McBride’s enraged gaze.

“And why not!” McBride bellowed, his arms quickly exchanging from defiantly folded to rest heavily on his hips.

“We didn’t chart our course and every island looks the same, wouldn’t know where to dump them.” Simpson’s voice lowered while not telling the entire truth, the reason being he had no wish to travel back to those islands.

“Bloody well ask them, they can navigate the whole Pacific in outrigger canoes, I’m sure they can navigate their way home.” McBride’s mouth narrowed to lips so tight they became white, as the twins approached from behind the captive blacks. Their presence was noticed. “Never send boys to do a man’s job, I’ll talk to you two later!” McBride shouted, his voice keeping the twins at a safe distance, as even though now adults the old man was occasionally prone to use more than his hands when his rage was running, although his preferred treatment was belittlement in the presence of strangers.

It was three days before McBride had calmed enough to be approached and when so the twins drew caution, declaring that they could only advise Simpson not demand. The Captain had been his own man and took no advice from them, be it so they had none to offer. As a second offering they declared they knew nothing about sailing or enslavement and how both had spent most of their time below deck or heaving their stomachs out over the side of the ship, being one factor they should have kept to themselves, as it only increased the old mans opinion of their uselessness.

Such an excuse as seasickness and lack of experience didn’t register with Jock McBride. In his youth he had known little of farming but had learnt quickly with few mistakes; even to say, a measure of luck had been with him along the way and he had been surrounded by knowledgeable people who were willing to offer their advice.

As for Simpson he knew sailing well enough and cargo but his experience was as Captain of a coastal trader, seldom venturing far past the reef, except for the occasional trip across the Tasman Sea to New Zealand and Fiji. Barrelled salted meat, lumber and the likes were his forte, they didn’t argue or fight back, nor mess the decks with frightened excretions, or foul below deck with their rancid unwashed body odours.

Simpson was a simple man with a somewhat laxed attitude without the stomach for the task he had been given. Now he had been ordered to return to the islands and collect a decent working gang. In agreeing to do so, it was for fear of McBride’s wrath and the fact the man owned a controlling interest in his ship the Capricorn and not the thought of savage head hunters. Nor was it the report the British had war ships patrolling the Solomon’s as far as Fiji, for that very reason. There was also the French in the waters around New Caledonia with an equal objection towards blackbirding, or at least a foreign ship doing so in their territorial waters.

This time Simpson had instructions to try his luck closer to New Guinea and the chain of Islands that ran down towards the Solomon Islands. McBride had heard from his associates it would be less likely to run into the British war ships, as Papua had been annexed by Queensland itself, to avoid having German territory close to its boarders, as the newly formed state of Germany had annexed the north eastern section of the New Guinea Island.

Simpson had reluctantly agreed and to keep him to his word, McBride would send Lachlan along to oversee the venture. A decision he had not yet shared with the lad and one decided as the Boy would be less missed if the enterprise failed but before the scheme could eventuate there was the returning of the already captured natives to their home island, or any island near by, it mattered not to McBride as long as they did not remain under his jurisdiction.

So the natives were to be returned to their island and a fresh attempt made to acquire a worthwhile working group. McBride wished to have the captives from the first trip removed from his property as soon as possible but wasn’t prepared to release Lachlan for some time, while the Capricorn had an urgent cargo for Cooktown and could not wait.

McBride thought of sending William once more but decided against doing so. Simply the captain would have to make two trips, the first to Cooktown with his urgent cargo, then with the natives to the islands and once repatriated, return for Lachlan and a second stint to the islands to collect McBride’s field hands. As for the how of it all the man had no idea, even less than the workings of a ship, its cargo or the logistics of travelling to and thro to the islands. To McBride it was as simplistic as taking his buggy to town to collect his cigars, scotch and tobacco.

It may have been McBride’s design to return the natives to their island but the captain had other plans and once his cargo was delivered he diverted north along the wilderness coast, staying inside the reef and past all signs of European civilization.

At a selected distance north of Cooktown the captain decided to dump his charge with the local Aborigines and finding a secluded bay that appeared to be inhabited, he anchored for the night. With sunrise preparations were made to unite two totally dissimilar cultures. To Simpson black was black and there would be acceptance to the new arrivals as long lost cousins.

While approaching shore much excitement was perceived some distance along the beach. A group of around twenty Aborigines had gathered, all of whom appeared to be troubled and armed for action, being the same mob that had despatched Kennedy’s exploratory party forty years earlier as they attempted to discover pastoral lands towards the cape. Kennedy’s dispatch had been done with little bother so this new lot hove to of their encampment would be equally attended to.

At first the band of natives appeared ready to keep their distance while shouting protest but as the ship’s boat reached the shallows they commenced their approach ever so slowly, spears and club like sticks waving furiously above their heads, while repeating the same chant over and over in a most hostile way.

To the four Solomon Islanders the gathering was clearly menacing; to Simpson it was assumed to be a welcoming party. He believed that seeing both parties were black the union would be unanimous. What Simpson didn’t understand was; natives from the New Hebrides and the Solomon Islands had been raiding the north Queensland coast for hundreds of years and feasting on Aboriginal flesh. So whenever the chance availed the Aborigines took revenge and supplemented their diet with Islander cuisine.

“Mr. Simpson, they are war spears, not hunting spears. I really don’t think this is a good idea” The ships mate hollered back as the boat approached the shore but Simpson wasn’t listening. From the safety of the schooner’s deck and with a wave of the hand, he enforced his decision to his crew.

By the time the ship’s boat came within a few oar strokes of the beach the intention of the natives became most obvious and from his vantage on board, Simpson observed the outcome of his folly. It was at this time the crew also realised the situation and as the boat’s bow touched sand they reversed their stroke, just avoiding a volley of missiles that fell about, one breaking against the side of their craft.

As the crew fled from the attack the terrified Islanders were dumped unarmed into the shallows to fend for them selves, an act that was totally fruitless. No sooner had they righted their stance in the waves then the Aborigines set upon them, bearing down with long wooden swordlike weapons, breaking bones and splitting skulls with continuous blows, until the surge at the beach head ran red with blood.

The last sight of the four was of their listless bodies being carried back to the Aboriginal camp to be carved for that day’s meal and if the crew in the ship’s boat hadn’t reacted as quickly as they had, they also would have also been on the menu. Yet it was said by some of those northern tribes, their preference was for yellow skin, as Asians mainly ate rice and vegetables, while white man’s flesh smelt vial.

On returning to McBride’s Point Simpson related his adventure to McBride, without admitting the quick demise of the hapless islanders. Instead explaining, because of contractual commitments he hadn’t time to repatriate the four back to their rightful home and they would soon find happiness amongst their new family.

McBride, without respect for the islanders was more than pleased they were no longer his concern and reminded the captain he still had a task to fulfil, a task that sent a greater shudder through Simpson than the sight of the demise of the four islanders.

The twins had kept their distance from their father since their failed venture. With William in wedded bliss in his cottage left Cameron home at the big house waiting for his father’s response. Avoidance for Cameron wasn’t to difficult as Jock McBride was seldom home at nights and when he was, he would retire after the evening meal to his private rooms, from where he would plan ways to increase his wealth and his expanding empire but he had not forgotten the failure of the twins and reminded them whenever the opportunity arose.

For William it was a loveless union, arranged by his father to assure the line of inheritance. McBride was most unsatisfied with his progeny, believing if no good came from his loins than possibly the next generation would fair better. Somewhere there would be at least one male child with the guile of the grandfather. One who would appreciate hard work and cunning, willing to enhance the name of McBride regardless what the outcome.

With William married, the old man’s attention was with Cameron but had little hope except buying him into matrimony, as it was obvious Cameron wasn’t confident enough to do so for himself. As for Daniel and Robert they were but an itch, while Lachlan remained a misdemeanour, a subclause to his aspirations.

Of the twins William was the more outgoing, while Cameron had a somewhat shy disposition, especially around females and strangers. He had only once enjoyed the company of a woman and that was during his late teenage years. Now six years on, he could only boast affection with his hand and as rough as it was, it sufficed.

“Do you reckon you can do it without being discovered?” William asked while working beside his brother, cleaning the weeds out of the irrigation channels in the west field. Pausing from his toil, leaning lazily on his shovel he watched his brother with doubtful eyes. Cameron gave a weak smile nodded then shrugged his shoulders before continuing with his work.

It was a hot afternoon and sweat trickled down inside William’s clothing reaching his crotch, it tickle creating thoughts of erotica.

“Dunno,” Cameron eventually answered somewhat solemnly, standing to stretch the ache out of his back, “Dunno, maybe,” he continued, taking refreshment from a red mud covered canvas water bag. As he drank a rivulet of overflow ran down his chin to drip onto his chest creating light relief from the relentless sun. William’s question and the heat reminded Cameron of that youthful day with his brother on the grassy banks of the local creek, his only experience with the fairer sex.

“She wouldn’t know the difference.” William stated from behind a sensuous smirk.

“I reckon she would.”

“Na, if you stoped shaking and kept your mouth shut, she wouldn’t have a clue.” William made light of his brother’s nervous disposition.

It was true the twins were identical but it was their voice that differentiated between them, Cameron’s voice was pitched slightly higher than William and his vocabulary was dissimilar, as he had taken on ending sentences with ‘eh’, a habit often heard in the north, while William seemed to be more educated. Also Cameron appeared somewhat nervous while around strangers especially women but once conscious of being so, he could control his disposition. Also their gate differed, William was more upright, confident in his stride while Cameron was more a plod, taking shorter lethargic steps but when conscious of these differences he could well mimic his brother more than enough to confuse even their parents.

In their early years the twins often played games with their family and friends by switching roles and over time became most adapt at switching back and forth at will, becoming so perfected in doing so they could and would spend whole days as the other and never divulge their jest.

So alike were the twins that after their birth a mix had occurred and from then on who was the older was unknown. McBride decided he would wait for character to develop and the twin with the strongest spirit would be considered the older. To Cameron’s misfortune he was the looser, as in actuality and unknown to all, was ten minutes older than William.

Such games became so involved they extended past their youthful years, doing so at many functions and family gathering, even as far as changing back and forth during a meal by both alighting from the table and secretly changing their position.

Now William had conspired with his brother a switch that could be more detrimental to his future than could be realised.

“Hey Cameron pour some of that water down here.” William suggested while parting the waist band of his trousers from his belly. Cameron obeyed and the cool fluid took away the sweat tickle from William’s crotch.

“When are you moving to Mareeba?” Cameron enquired changing the subject then upending the rest of the water over his head, allowing its coolness to flow over his chest and back. “Ah,” he exhaled with its cooling pleasure.

“I hope you are going to walk back to the house to refill the bag.” William complained.

“We’ll be finished here soon anyway.”

“Not if dad has his way, there’s still plenty of daylight remaining for him to find more to be done.” William grumbled while returning to the work allotted to them.

“About Mareeba, why don’t you just pack you bags and go? I’m sure Lucy would agree.” Cameron suggested, referring to William’s wish to take up land on the Tableland and create his own future.

“I don’t think so, it doesn’t look like soon if ever; dad saw to that.” William looked up from his work and across the end of the cane rows towards his cottage to where Lucy, his wife, was hanging linen out to dry on a single strand fencing wire clothes line, William had strung between the side of the cottage and a tree. Cameron followed his brother’s gaze as Lucy’s petit form reached high to the line, while the sleaves of her long dress covered all but her wrists and hands. Those tiny alabaster hands that appeared too fragile to manage the roughness of the home honed pegs.

“Do you love her?” Cameron asked as he returned to his work.

“Do you love your hand?” William quickly bit, displaying uncharacterised venom towards Cameron.

“What does that mean?”

“Well it gives you relief but do you love it?”

“That is a silly question eh,” Cameron protested, “William you’re full of silly questions.”

“I believed it was a good question and explains everything.”

“I think it explains nothing;”

“You know one thing Cameron, no matter how alike we may be, no matter how many times we play the game, you can’t be inside my head, nor I in your’s. That is where our difference lays and it is as wide as the Tully River.”

“True but where is that coming from?”

“It’s coming from -” William paused, “never mind get on with the work, the old man will be along any time to check on us.”

William removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead while his thoughts remained on Cameron’s question and felt need to clarify his feelings towards Lucy but couldn’t find the correct words. “Love my brother doesn’t come into it, that is what you find in those silly books our sisters read and both are now married to real bastards. Is that love?”

William paused and firmly replaced his hat, giving it a sideways tilt to better reflect his character. “Take our parents, mum sort of loves dad but who knows, except for money and his status, who dad loves.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“And I won’t – do you remember Susan O’Brien?” William asked. Cameron admitted he did. William released a rye smile as he spied their father riding towards them. At distance the man paused, stood in his stirrups. Once satisfied his sons were working rode on towards the main gate and the road.

“Where’s he going?” Cameron asked as McBride entered onto the main road and turned towards the scrub.

“Dunno;”

“What about Susan O’Brien?” Cameron asked.

“Saw her the other day and she’s married now with a kid.” William laughed, “It’s a boy and it looks like you.” He declared jovially.

“Or you!” Cameron answered.

“Maybe both of us, if at all possible,” William concluded.

“Father seems to think it is.” Cameron suggested.

“What makes you say that?”

“A long time ago, I heard him talking to Mr. Bull while we were in the bank and he said Lachlan was the result of some travelling salesman.”

“And you believe that is possible?” William asked.

“Father said Lachlan was the result of a cuckoo. What’s a cuckoo?” Cameron asked.

“It’s a bird that lays its egg in another bird’s nest.”

“How could that happen with people?” Cameron appeared confused.

“Exactly Cameron how; so you do remember our day with Susan O’Brien?”

“Yea that was a fun day.” Cameron beamed in memory of the occasion.

“It was your only fun day Cameron.”

It had been during the ending of their teen years when they met with Susan O’Brien on the bank of a small creek beyond McBride’s Point. William had known Susan for some time and after successfully flirting with her arranged a picnic day, suggesting his brother Cameron could also be invited. Susan had expectations and they didn’t include a second McBride spoiling her afternoon.

“It could be fun.” William persuaded but Susan wasn’t convinced.

“What could be fun, having your brother playing gooseberry?”

“No, that isn’t what I meant.” William then explained his intention was Cameron could join with them as he had never experienced being with a girl.

“What do you take me for – some kind of trull?”

“What is a trull?” William asked.

“You know loose petticoat, a slut.”

“I didn’t say that.” William defended.

“No but that is what everyone would say.”

“We wouldn’t tell, I promise. Come on you said you like Cameron.” William insisted.

“He’s a bit on the dull side.”

“No just a little shy and I should think if pointed in the right direction, he would know what to do.” William assured.

“I’ll have to think about it.” Susan coyly answered while believing it may be interesting to have the pleasure of twins. She eventually agreed.

During the afternoon and after two bottles of wine William had stolen from their father’s collection, Susan suggested seeing the day was hot and the water cool, they should take a swim. Moments later she stood naked before them; her pert breasts seemed to point her intentions with William being quick in reading her purpose. Moments later he was as naked and with Susan’s support, insisted that Cameron should also remove his clothing and join them.

As Cameron nervously discarded his clothing both William and Susan ran to the water. Cameron tensely followed; his hands cupped strategically over his privates, to stand on the verge like some Michelangelo marble statue chiselled with the emotion of humiliation.

“Come on Cameron, lighten-up.” William demanded and splashed copious amounts of water towards his brother. Cameron released a nervous chortle but didn’t answer, while holding his rigid stance.

“What’s wrong Cameron, are you shy?” Susan cynically asked, her eyes directed onto Cameron’s cupped hands over his privates, “what are you hiding Cameron?”

“Not at all, it’s just;” Just what? Cameron couldn’t find the words to describe decent behaviour around the fairer sex. He had discovered yet one more differential between himself and William and it was etiquette.

Susan soon tired of the rough antics delivered by William and leaving the water lay on the soft carpet of grass, while the warmth of the afternoon sun tingled across her breasts and stomach. Now both lads stood motionless their eyes greedily upon the naked form before them. To William it was an invitation, to Cameron embarrassment as he felt his entire blood supply drain from his head, his hands his heart towards his crotch. William likewise and as they left the water their thoughts were most prominent.

“Well are you going to stand there all day like two gawking bullocks?” Susan demanded. The boys responded and advanced, William with eager expectation, Cameron trepidation.

“You really are twins in every way.” Susan gasped as her greedy eyes fell upon their nakedness. “It won’t be like sharing two but the same one twice,” she laughed as Cameron followed tucked in behind his brother’s approach. William stood over Susan dripping water across her feet; Cameron remaining at distance and confused.

“Are you going to stand there all afternoon?” Susan demanded, her expression twisting from the sun’s glare.

“You are eager?” William laughed.

“I have to be home to help with the milking.” Susan justified, “so who’s going first?” She demanded.

“Who would you prefer, experience or the apprentice?”

“Experience I reckon.” Susan glanced towards Cameron and smiled as William fell to his knees and made haste towards his intention. “Sorry Cameron,” she apologised.

William may have been more experienced than his brother but before one could count to ten, maybe twenty if one did so quickly, he was spent and once again on his feet, “Your turn brother,” he roughly demanded forcing Cameron towards Susan.

“You take it slowly now Cameron, I’m not one of your father’s heifers.” Susan turned to William, “he does know where it goes. I don’t want any funny business.”

“I guess you’re about to find out.” William laughed and pushed his brother down onto his knees.

Although the sap of youth surged through Cameron’s body, it was shyness that excluded him from any attempt to approach girls. He liked girls and their soft form but unlike William found it most difficult to make idle conversation. He could only talk of cattle, cane and farming but lacked the bravado of his brother, the cheeky quips that seemed to please. If Cameron attempted humour it would be clumsy and appear crude while William could become most intimate without shocking.

Now William had made a suggestion that was not only considered improper but frightened Cameron although he would in most likelihood agree, being a continuation of their youthful charade, a game they never grew away from or tired of but for now Cameron would ponder on his brother’s proposal without agreement.

“How did she look?” Cameron enquired bringing his thoughts back to his brother’s recent encounter with Susan O’Brien and away from the memories of their day with her beside the river.

“Fat and ugly!”

“Really fat?”

“Yea you know a lot of woman let themselves go once they snare a fellow.”

“Lucy hasn’t turned fat.” Cameron inferred.

“She hasn’t had me long enough I guess.”

“Who is the husband?”

“Dunno – looks foreign; maybe one of those ‘Itai that has come up this way of late.” William answered without showing sympathy towards Susan O’Brien.

“What’s an Itai?” Cameron asked.

“Italians I guess and they sure can drink – they love their wine and make firewater they call grappa.” William explained.

“So Susan is married to an Itai?”

“It appears to be so and from what I’ve heard they like women with meat on their bones. Something to keep you warm on a cold night.

“It must be awfully cold where these Iti’s come from, I don’t think I would like to marry a fat girl.” Cameron suggested.

“I wouldn’t know, I guess they come from somewhere in Europe.”

“She was a good root.” Cameron digressed, allowing his imagination to digress.

“Who was?” William demanded his thoughts still on the increasing population of foreigners recently attracted to the area. There were also a number of Albanians who wished to build a Mosque right in the centre of Tully but the citizens disallowed them to do so, decreeing it was fair they had their religion but it should be kept in their homes, behind doors and not aired in view of good god fearing gentle folk.

“Susan O’Brien, who do you think?” Cameron snapped.

“How would you know, she was you’re only root and even then I had to guide you in and slap your arse to get you going.”

“You remember that eh?” Cameron chuckled, his mind still fixated on his only experience.

“Yea and I remember your ugly puckered arse hole glaring at me from a bush of sweaty black hairs.” William protested.

“Still I enjoyed it, even if it only lasted a few seconds.” Cameron added joyfully then returned to his hoeing.

“I guess it was enough to stoke your furnace on hot lonely nights.” William concluded.

William paused from his work and once again wiped sweat from his forehead, while occasionally looking across at his wife. Lucy had a petit body, somewhat boyish with long blond hair, which she often wore platted. Did he love her? William couldn’t say. He enjoyed her company and the intimacy but didn’t understand love. He knew his mother’s love but that of his wife was different. She clung to his every action, while her eyes followed his every move, creating in him a feeling that she was stealing away his very existence in a slow strangulation of his youth and dreams. ‘Maybe if I can get away from here, from dad and make a fresh start, I could grow to love her.’ He quietly sighed and returned to his work.

“Well what do you think of my suggestion?” William once again asked while placing aside his thoughts of lost youth.

“I’ll have to think about it eh.”

“What’s there to think about?” William appeared irritated.

“It’s sorta not right and a lot different from our usual games.” Cameron protested but remained desultory keen.

“It would be like the old days, mum and dad never did work us out.” William laughed remembering their charade of musical chairs around the family meal table also other times when if William happened to be in disfavour with their father for some simple misdemeanour, he would send Cameron to receive his punishment but McBride eventually became aware and decided if one twin was to be punished and the switch on, he would punish them both.

“I remember father giving me a right thrashing because of you.” Cameron complained.

“I also for you; do you remember when you collected the eggs and fell and broke the lot?”

“It was Christmas and mother needed them for the pudding.” Cameron smiled.

“I copped a thrashing for that, father’s bloody leather belt, I can still feel it across my bare arse; it collected my cods and almost ruined me for life.”

“I blamed you.” Cameron cheekily admitted.

“Fair enough, I blamed you more than often.” William accepted.

“Yes I remember that leather belt; I wonder what happened to it?”

“I took to it with father’s shaving razor.” William laughed.

“Then he used that bloody lawyer cane.” Cameron concluded somewhat doleful.

“Enough of all that what about my proposition?”

“As I said I’ll have to think about it.”

“Don’t think too long or I may change my mind.”

“Don’t forget you are expected for dinner tonight.” Cameron reminded while returning towards the shed at the end of the rows of cane.

“Couldn’t you make an excuse for me?” William begged.

“Na, not with father still smarting from the failed blackbirding,”

“Suppose you’re right, he is still insisting in get another lot but has decided to send the Runt next time.”

“When did you hear so?” Cameron asked and shouldered his hoe.

“He told me.”

“I like Lockie.” Cameron admitted feeling a measure of sympathy for his younger brother’s pending discomfort and a measure of guilt for what he and William handed out during their youth.

“It’s not a personality competition Cameron.” William disclaimed.

“I know that but he isn’t like any of us, he doesn’t have a bad word against anyone and I’ve never seen him loose his temper.”

“He’s bloody lazy.” William complained emphatically.

“Not really, he does what is asked of him and in good time.”

“That Cameron isn’t what I mean; he could at least take initiative on the occasion instead of leaving everything to me.”

“You are a hard man to please William.”

On reaching the shed Cameron took control of his brother’s hoe and placed it away with his own.

“It isn’t me he needs to please, it is father.”

“I don’t think god himself could please father.” Cameron softly answered as if in fear that either McBride or god would hear and send hell down on him.

“Who is coming to dinner tonight?” William asked as the two made their way back towards the house.

“It will be the usual I guess.” Cameron answered.

“I think I can feel a headache coming on.” William grinned.

“I don’t think so only sheila’s get that type of headache.”

As they approached McBride once again entered through the main gate, catching Lachlan’s attention he dismounted and passed the reins to his son, who dutifully led the animal towards the stables.

“Have you ever ridden Abharsair?” Cameron asked.

“No why?”

“I have and the black bugger threw me into the rakings of horse shit. It has the same personality as father.”

“Then stay of it, you know father doesn’t like anyone riding his horse.

“Lachlan does, I’ve seen him.”

“Then tell the Runt to keep off.”

Let Gary know what you think of his story.

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