Published: 6 Nov 2017

Stephen Henderson visited after the evening meal with the news he would be leaving to travel west within a few days and finding Lachlan pensive enquired about his mood. It was then Lachlan confided in his friend what he had chanced upon the previous week at the native settlement. Stephen smiled sadly and shook his head.

“I thought you knew that.” Stephen declared somewhat cautiously.

“No why would you think I knew?”

“It’s been going on for quite some time.” The smile dissolved from his face as he continued. “The others knew; well Robert and Daniel did anyway.”

“How do you know that?”

“Robert told me; besides as you did, I discovered it by accident for myself.”

Stephen, as had Lachlan, befriended the natives at an early age and during his childhood spent as much time with the blacks as he did with his own. The two would often be invited to join in with some of the celebrations, mostly simple thanksgiving to the changing of their many seasons or a union between a young man and woman.

During such celebrations they would paint their white bodies with ochre and umber, presenting a most ridiculous sight as they in naked state joined the dancing, giving much merriment to the group with their stilted dancing and vivid white privates.

“You should have told me.” Lachlan became angered towards his friend.

“I couldn’t say anything he is your father.”

“Still you should have.”

“Besides I thought you knew.” Stephen protested.

“Never mind it’s all out now and I will have to learn to live with it. Who else knows?”

Stephen grimaced becoming pensive, eventually he softly answered. “That my friend I couldn’t say but it is suggested that your dad also has encounters in the town and that is spoken of by others, so I guess there would be many who know.” Stephen paused sighed then continued “there is something else,” He related cautiously. “I suppose this would be better coming from me now than someone else at a later time.”

“What would that be!?”

“You have a half-cast half brother.” The words hit Lachlan like a stomach punch.

“What!?”

“Sorry.” Stephen lowered his head shamefully.

Now the miniscule respect remaining for his father evaporated. “How old is he?” Lachlan asked.

“About three or four I guess, sorry,” Stephen repeated his apology. The words seemed to send Lachlan into shock as he sat motionless in his chair. Stephen apologised once again and seeing his friend in his outcast state, approached and wrapped his arms around Lachlan’s shoulders, “sorry,” he repeated holding tightly to his grip, his chin gently resting on the crown of Lachlan’s head. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Lachlan took a deep breath, “will you stay the night?”

“Sure, I was going to suggest staying anyway.”

It was Stephen Henderson’s departure date and a perfect day for travelling with a cool breeze coming from the south east and a light clouding towards the west. Sun-up found Lachlan saddled and waiting at the McBride’s property boundary for his friend’s arrival, which came soon after.

“Hey!” Lachlan called, standing in his stirrups and waving to the loan rider leading two heavily loaded pack horses.

“Hey yourself!” Stephen called back then quickened his mount to meet Lachlan. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be here,” he declared, bringing his mount to a stop beside that of Lachlan’s.

“I was about to ride to your place but why would you think that?”

“Dunno by the conversation on our last meeting.”

“I enjoyed the night.” Lachlan admitted coyly.

“There will be others.” Stephen promised as his mount came a little too close it Lachlan’s horse, which flattering its ears attempted to nip the other.

“Steady girl, you know Daisy,” Lachlan pulled her head to one side before it made contact and laughed, “Daisy how did you come up with that name, it’s a cow’s name.”

“It was my mother’s idea. Mum said she reminded her of her Cousin Daisy.”

“I still wish you would rethink it all, I have a bad feeling about your little enterprise.”

“And Lockie – I wish you would rethink and join me.” For an instant Stephen Henderson did have a change of mind but it was fleeting and the need to prove his worth soon took away the wish to stay; “besides I guess it is a little late at this hour to change my mind.” He nodded to his pack horses and their heavy loads.

“I guess so, tell you what as soon as I’m back from this accursed voyage for my father, I will come and visit you.” Lachlan promised.

“I’ll hold you to that. You do realise your going to sea is more concerning than my little adventure.” Stephen released a long sigh and with a loud clicking of his tongue commenced to move away from the McBride gate. “Do you agree with what your father is doing?” He asked as William approached. “Have you seen Daniel, I can’t find him anywhere and his horse is missing?” William enquired.

“Not this morning but if his horse is missing, I guess he is on it.” Lachlan admitted somewhat ironically.

“If you see him, I have a job for him – and where do you think you’re going?” William demanded.

“I’m seeing Stephen away.”

“So don’t be all day.”

“It will take all day.”

William turned to Stephen, “Stephen Henderson I wish you wouldn’t be installing these silly notions into the Runt’s head.” William shook his head and moved away.

“Good morning to you as well William.” Stephen answered mockingly.

“As for agreeing with father’s blackbirding, I don’t agree.” Lachlan answered most definitely once William was out of hearing. The two slowly moved on.

“Why not tell him so.”

“That is a little difficult, firstly I’m not yet twenty never mind twenty-one and he would not only disown me but make sure I never found work anywhere north of Townsville.” Lachlan freely admitted as the dismal thought brought down the shutters on such a beautiful day.

“That wouldn’t be a problem, you have your horses.”

“And father owns the land where I keep them – besides.”

“Besides what?” Stephen impatiently asked.

“There is mother to consider, he would more than likely take it out on her and at present I am the only one she can rely on.”

“True I suppose,”

“What do your parents think of this adventure of yours?”

“Jack sorta agrees or at least is tensely supportive,” Stephen always called his father by his given name, such was their relationship “but mum is not too keen on it.”

“There you go,” It was all Lachlan cold say, he knew his friend well and once Stephen had decided there was no shifting him.

“You know Stephen Henderson you are as stubborn as a fair ground mule.” Lachlan related while attempting to be as stoic as he possibly could.

“When it comes to doggedness you win hands down.” Stephen quickly answered.

“So it’s to be a competition on who is the less flexible is it?”

“No I guess I loose and I don’t wish to win anything against you, especially not at this point in time.”

“Nor I, so less call it a draw but I still wish you would rethink.” Lachlan renounced.

“There are many out there and some younger than I am and they survive.”

“I know but I will miss you being around.”

“You know Lockie it all comes down to that doesn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I guess we have known each other so long we have become as if one character in two bodies.” Stephen gave a known smile.

“I’ve never thought of it like that.”

“The you in me don’t want me to go but the me in me has to.” Stephen explained.

“I guess I’ll have to hold that in legacy until you return my friend.” Lachlan answered.

It was a three hour ride along the wagon track that led to the lowest point of the divide, a point known as the Jump-over. Once there it was but a gentle descent to the dry endless grasslands beyond. To unknown, uncharted country with only a scattering of homesteads and cattlemen, country populated by uncivilized blacks not accustomed to having wagons cross their tribal lands, cattle feed on their grass, muck their water holes and trample sacred taboos into the dirt.

There had been a number of attacks on settlers and cattle over the previous years, although not as many as the decade progressed, being mainly threats but it would only take a single disregard of some sacred site, the rape of a woman or mishandling of tribal land to set the west ablaze, as unlike the costal tribes those over the divide still held firm to their beliefs and land, still had their pride and enough strength to retaliate.

The two made good time while little was spoken. It seemed that words would only make their parting more difficult and the closer they came to the Jump-over the more Lachlan realised he would miss his friend, while with every step he struggled with his decision. One moment he would throw everything away with his family, then with the next reality took control and he couldn’t join his friend but with each step the gap between the two alternatives widened until only the state of their differences remained.

As they travelled Lachlan had an uneasy feeling they were being followed. He turned in his saddle to scan the road behind but could see no one. Even his mount appeared to be somewhat uneasy, snorting and shying at rocks and fallen branches but she was known to have a flighty nature and a tendency to shy. He gently patted her neck and acknowledging with a loud snort she settled.

Eventually they reached the highest point and peered into the downing at the stunted trees beyond, stretching endless westward past the horizon and beyond to that great inland dryness. There was also grass, good grass to fatten cattle; long brown grass that would soon burn off during the dry, to spring once again green and succulent with the coming of the monsoon season.

“I have the feeling we are being followed.” Lachlan eventually acknowledged, while again turning but there was nothing but dust haze and forest to greet his eyes. His vision crossed the canopy of jungle trees to where smoke lazily rose from the site that was McBride’s Point, onward to the deep blue haze of ocean and the numerous inshore islands, to the distant eastern horizon where it joined the sky to the ocean in one indefinable line. He gave a shudder as the thought of his father’s enterprise returned.

“Umm I thought I saw something way back as well and the horses are a little flighty.” Stephen agreed, “Could be natives.” He suggested.

“Maybe and maybe it’s nothing, or its just I don’t want you to go.” Lachlan declared, giving a deep sigh as he peered across the downing towards the vast emptiness beyond. “Which direction are you heading?” He enquired, casting his eyes to the north and scanning back to the south.

There were squatters out there but few and far between. There were also villages of sorts, rough timber getters and cattle men, who struggled to create a living while fighting bushfires, droughts and floods. How could someone as young as Stephen Henderson make his way and alone.

“Actually it’s not that far at all, about fifteen – twenty miles at the most out that way.” Stephen pointed towards a slight but pronounced rise on the distant horizon. “There is a creek near there that has water even through the drought and I found a mob of clean skins just waiting for my brand.” Stephen declared proudly.

“I think I can make out the creek.” Lachlan admitted noticing a snaking of trees that appeared to follow a creek.

“Righto see the sharp bend where the tree line heads north, there’s a billabong right there and has plenty of water all year.”

“You have your brand registered?” Lachlan asked.

“Sure do.” Stephen pointed to the nearest of his two pack horses, where the branding iron’s shaft stuck proudly out of one of the saddle bags.

“What is you style?”

“S/L” within a circle.” Stephen answered, his face widening into a smile as he spoke.

“What does that mean?”

“Stephen and Lachlan of course,” he became coy, “at the time I half expected you to change your mind and join with me.”

“Maybe some day my friend but you will always be in my thoughts and I promise to visit.”

At the divide’s reach the two paused, while Lachlan once again scanned the distance for the tell tale of smoke from native settlements. There was what appeared to be a bush fire far to the south but evidence of camp fires wasn’t apparent. “Have you encountered any natives?” He asked showing a measure of concern.

“Not yet, I’ve been out there a number of times and believe most of them are to the south.” Stephen pointed in the direction of the smoke. “More than likely it is them burning off.”

“I don’t know much about this western lot.” Lachlan admitted.

“There are some homesteads around and I’ve heard they have had problems but noting that a few shots over their heads didn’t fix.” Stephen appeared convinced but Lachlan had reservations and pleaded caution.

“Got your rifle?” Lachlan asked.

“In fact two.”

“Plenty of ammunition?” Lachlan added.

“Stop worrying I have plenty of everything.”

Stephen cast his eyes skywards. The sun was close to its zenith, bringing on urgency to depart. He offered Lachlan his hand; it was accepted and held for an eternity. Eventually the grasp was broken and Stephen silently commenced his descent towards his new life without once looking back and was soon gone from sight, leaving Lachlan close to tears but strong enough to fight them away.

Eventually Lachlan turned to re-track the dust filled cart furrows back towards home. It was a slow plod. Each step increased the distance between them. It would be a difficult time as they had never been apart for more than a week since they were children but Lachlan knew that strength was needed besides their parting would not be permanent. He took a deep breath and released it slowly as he once again thought of his pending sea voyage and his friend’s observation of its risk.

“Funny this thing called life.”

Lachlan spoke aloud to the unconcerned trees, the scurrying dust and plaintive call of a number of crows circling above his head.

“Full of gain and loss.”

“And disappointments.” He sighed.

“How do you hold onto a cherished moment?” He questioned remembering that final handshake, that smile and deep set feeling within his friend’s eyes.

“I guess you can’t!”

“Oh Stephen please be careful.”

Another deep sigh as reality took its grasp.

“I guess you just have to accept it all and get on with it.” He gazed upward upon the circling crows as they plaintively called to each other advertising some find they had made. “You’re not getting me!” he shouted at the black ravens, “well not this day anyway.”

Back beneath the tall coastal forest trees Lachlan’s thoughts once again turned to his father’s enterprise, also of the coming federation and how it had been deemed by the Federation Fathers, Queensland could not become part of the developing nation, unless it did away with such practices considered to be little more than slavery. He was also aware the British navy patrolled the waters around the Pacific islands, confiscating any vessel considered to be practicing blackbirding while goaling its crew, yet he was obedient and would reluctantly do his father’s bidding.

Jock McBride was in favour of a separate territory in the north but not federation with the southern colonies, he had even donated money to build their capital, its parliament in Rockhampton but although the north was willing, the population was in the south and would not let go of a single square mile of Queensland and for the division to go ahead the vote must be won over the whole colony, not only the north.

As for Lachlan he disagreed with his father on federation but agreed with separation for the north. Capricornia was suggested as a name for the new territory but by any name it would be a rich legacy to the coming federation and one day well populated with towns and industry. If Lachlan had his way there would be no blackbirding and two territories would join the coming union. Two proud states to join one proud nation.

Still within some distance of the McBride farm Lachlan paused beside a slow running stream where he knew there to be a fresh pool of water with some depth. The day being hot and feeling sweaty as well as remorse, decided to take a refreshing swim.

After watering his mare, Lachlan tethered her on a grassy verge beneath a stand of struggling Umbrella trees. To Lachlan they were, because of the design of their flowers, called octopus trees but when he had asked Yarran their name in language the lad simply said Carawatha, which he oddly used to describe most trees and when pushed on the subject admitted it only meant place of trees and besieged Lachlan for thinking as a Gulngai person he would be skilled in the call all local flora.

The lead to the water’s edge was a rocky plate of basalt having a slight slope towards the pond but mostly flat, here Lachlan undressed and after placing his clothing neatly on the grass verge, he entered the water and at once felt its coolness remove the dust as well as some of his remorsefulness.

He knew this pool well, as boys he with Stephen and Yarran would often visit. Yarran would teach the boys how to fish, using noting but patience and their hands, where to find bush tucker and tell of black man’s dreaming about the pond and the stream that fed it.

Somewhere near the pool there had once been a camp, a high summer’s camp, occupied when water and fishing were poor towards the coast. There was also a number of indigenous fruiting trees near by, fruiting mid summer so the spot was an important icon in their yearly cycle.

Unfortunately the area was also claimed by another tribe and some time before the arrival of the white man, a battle was fort over its usage and the Gulngai lost out, not gaining access again until settlers arrived from the south and claimed the entire area as their own.

Refreshed Lachlan returned to the rocky surface and lying naked in the late afternoon’s sun fell asleep. He dreamed he, with Stephen Henderson, was riding through fields of green pasture stretching endless into the distance while driving a herd of well conditioned bullocks, all wearing the brand S/L circle. It was a happy dream, which ended with the feeling someone was standing over him and looking down at his naked body while laughing.

Lachlan awoke with a start. The sun was low and weakening, while his mount displayed stress, snorting loudly and pulling hard at her tether. Lachlan sat upright and scanned the area but was alone. He reached for his clothes; they had gone, leaving him naked to the world and still some miles from the farm.

Lachlan searched once more, maybe he had left them further along the verge but there was nothing. “Thieving bloody blacks!” He accused, then in naked state attended to his horse.

“Steady girl, what seems to be the trouble?” He patted her muzzle, she again snorted loudly, moving quickly backwards at his touch, nodding her head up and down as she pulled away. She settled.

“You really are jumpy today.” He spoke softly and patted her neck, then once again scanned the area, nothing, only the running of the creek and its babbling over rocks at the far end of his pool.

“Anyone there?” He called loudly. No answer.

“Come on a joke’s a joke bring them back.” Sill no answer.

“Hoy there!” He called once more, his eyes travelling from tree to tree, from branch to undergrowth while attempting to perceive movement but the trees stood tall and still. He was alone.

“Well horse it appears that both of us are going to have a naked trip home.” Lachlan told his mount, while deciding to wait until after dark before continuing.

The night ride was cool and the feel of his privates bouncing on the saddle was exciting. He liked the sensation but hoped no one would chance his way. Being nude was no stranger to Lachlan; often when alone in the forest he would remove his clothing and wander naked and as a lad would join the native boys; all buck naked as they played within the thick forest. It felt natural, filling him with life’s energy but to actually ride the roads around McBride’s Point dressed in the fashion of Lady Godiva was to be an unknown experience. Unlike Godiva, Lachlan didn’t have her long golden tresses to cover his nakedness, only the darkness of the night. Fortunately there wasn’t anyone travelling that night and he reached his cottage without detection.

Dismounting Lachlan tethered his horse, deciding it wise to find clothing before bedding her down. On the approach to the cottage door, he noticed a dark pile upon the step. Firstly he thought it to be a dog. Maybe one of Jack Henderson’s mutts as they often strayed his way but on closer scrutiny he discovered the mound to be that of his clothes. Someone had not only stolen them but returned them. He immediately accused one of his brothers but which one? It would have to be Daniel as he was always the prankster. Firstly Lachlan thought to march up to the big house and challenge Daniel, make him realise how silly he had been, how embarrassing it would have been if there were folk about but soon he realised it would be fruitless to do so, Daniel would deny involvement and why give his trickster brother the satisfaction of enjoying his prank, besides he could not be sure if the instigator was his brother.

Let Gary know what you think of his story.

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