Published: 14 Feb 2022

It was early evening when Travis booked a room at the Mt. Surprise hotel and after a long hot shower he advanced to the bar for an even longer cold beer, to be greeted by a new and friendly face. Dark red; almost black ringlets of curls fell about what could be more described as a handsome freckled face. Her voice was as dark as the ringlets, low and captivating while her breasts were large and struggling to escape from a low cut floral summer dress, bouncing like playful puppies in a floral basket as she walked.

It was those breasts that caught the imagination and wanting of the bar’s patrons but Travis saw her freckles and handsome face thinking she reminded him of someone, then realised he was gawking he lowered his eyes to his tattered wallet, while picking at a broken stitch at a corner.

“Beer?” she asks of Travis.

He nodded shyly.

She had already pulled a drink in anticipation.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime,”

“You’re new, where’s Rose?” Travis asks.

“Visiting a sick relation – I’m Nola,” she answered. Her eyes burned deep inside those of Travis.

Travis blushed and broke away.

“What’s your name?”

“Travis Brown.”

Nola smiled.

“Hey Nola how about some service down here?” came the call from the far end of the bar.

“Patience please can’t you see a girl’s busy.”

Laughing she attended to the caller’s needs.

Travis slowly consumed his drink while watching as she attended to the others.

“Clint Ross, I haven’t seen that handsome brother of yours for some time,” Nola says as she pulled the drinks.

“I’ve been told I’m the handsome one,” the man corrected and was ribbed in frivolous terms by his mates.

Nola laughed and glanced back towards Travis.

“Clint’s out Croydon way,”

“Tell him I enquired after him.”

Nola returned to Travis’ end of the bar, “Refill Travis Brown?” she softly asks. Travis agreed, “What about you Travis are you from these parts?”

“Just passing through, what about yourself?”

“My uncle owns the pub and I’m helping out until Rose returns,” Nola mopped at a beer spill keeping her gaze upon an anxious Travis.

“I’ll be going in a couple of days, just in town for supplies,” he nervously answered.

“Are you staying at the pub?” Nola asks.

“Yes.”

Nola broke from their conversation to attend to a young ringer with a large hat, riding boots and jingling spurs who had called for further service though he had only consumed portion of his drink. His call was more to watch Nola’s style as she progressed behind the bar.

Nola attended the stockman with a wink. She did not return to Travis but occasionally glanced in his direction, smiling in such a way that made Travis feel most uneasy, as his experience with the so called fairer sex was limited, or in truth nonexistent and conversation had to be dragged out of him word by word. It was as if an unassailable invisible barrier had been drawn down between him and Nola, leaving a quivering, nervous palm sweeting mess.

“Refill?” Nola asks once more, returning from talking to the ringer with the large hat. He had asked her what she was doing after closing and Nola retorted humorously, “not you,” while his mates ribbed him for her rejection. He accepted it well.

“No thank you Nola but you can give me a long neck and a glass; I think I’ll sit on the verandah for a while – it’s cooler there,” Travis answered.

The verandah was as hot as the bar, except it lacked the bar’s haze of cigarette smoke that lingered and choked a non-smoker, while stinging the eyes and permeating clothes for days after. Travis had never smoked and hated its effect, now away from its influence he felt more relaxed and planned for his departure.

Travis sipped his final beer. It was flat and warm. Pushing it to one side he contemplated turning in but was distracted by calling from the bar.

“Time gentlemen,”

Nola’s voice came clearly along the verandah following the bougainvillea that hedged the walkway as the evening passed ten and closing. There was the usual protest then the mood of the bar lowered and soon after the sound of the bolts on the large wooden doors reinforced her declaration. Some remained as it was usual and accepted by the local establishment that drinkers could finish their drink, even order one for the road, or retire to the beer garden beside as long as the noise was kept to a minimum.

Ten minutes passed and Nola’s voice bidding a final goodnight came from the end of the verandah and the bar’s side door, followed soon after by the sound of tinkling glass as she completed tidying the bar.

Travis’ thoughts returned to Nola and who she reminded him of. She had Sam’s freckles. He unconsciously smiled, realising his reminiscence transferred to his male friends and not the girls he had known. ‘What girls’ he thought, not known any except for the giggling teenage lot from his schooldays, so how could he compare? It was then he imagined sex with Nola and as the thought developed that invisible barrier once again fell before him.

It was true; Travis lacked experience with girls, or how to converse with them or their interests, knowing only the Gregory Stanley approach, being blunt and direct. Want a fuck; that may have worked for Greg with schoolgirls but Nola was his age and now a woman, with women’s views and experiences and a woman’s expectations. What would such a woman want with an inexperienced shallow person such as him?

Travis’ question was soon to be answered as the form of Nola approached from the bar and entered into the weak yellow glow from the naked light globe at the verandah’s opposing end. She brought with her the tailings of a scotch bottle and two glasses.

“Nice cool breeze for once,” Nola declared as she leant on the rail a short distance from Travis.

The crickets in the bougainvillea appeared to quieten at the sound of her voice.

“It just arrived, must have been your influence,” Travis pleasantly agreed.

Nola placed the bottle and glasses on the landing table, pouring a draught she sat without invitation.

“Would you like a scotch?”

“No thank you, it is best I don’t mix my drinks.”

“Are you travelling for work?” Nola asks.

“No I thought I’d spend a few months experiencing the bush before deciding on what I want to do. I’ve been offered a job with a saddler in Mareeba.”

It was true he had been offered work with Jack Johnson but that position had long since been filled but he didn’t wish to be thought of as some layabout without any direction or substance.

“Should try the motor industry, horses are on their way out,” Nola suggested

“That is what my uncle reckons.”

“You don’t mind if I join you for a while, too hot in my room.”

“Not at all.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Nola asks.

“Not at the moment,” Travis answered while taking a deep breath from the night air as the cool breeze died. With his inhale came the scent of Nola’s perfume. It was floral but he could not detect the flower. Travis had not noticed it while in the bar but now it was pungent and he thought somewhat overpowering away from the influence of cigarette smoke but at the same time pleasing.

“A good looking fellow like you should have the girls falling over themselves for him,” Nola declared with a cheeky grin as the crickets recommenced their chirping rising Travis’ anxiety.

“I don’t know about that,” Travis answered nervously, keeping his gaze away from Nola’s low cut dress, which now seemed to expose more flesh then it had while she was behind the bar. ‘Puppies in a basket,’ he smiled remembering a previous thought.

“Are you sure you don’t want a drink?” Nola asks.

“Alright then,”

Nola emptied the remainder into Travis’ beer glass and reached for her cigarettes, “do you mind?” she asks.

“No,”

“Would you like one?” she offered.

“I don’t smoke,”

Instead of lighting up Nola returned the cigarette to the packet.

“How old are you Travis?”

“Twenty; I’ll be twenty-one in September.”

He thought his answer came as an excuse for being young and inexperienced wishing he had not mentioned his coming birthday.

“Umm I’m three moths older, my birthday is in July.”

“I won’t hold that against you,” Travis answered dryly.

“I like a younger man,” Nola declared with a touch of vulgarity.

“For what?” Travis asks.

“Anything,” Nola says.

Travis held to his silence.

“Most things,” she continued with a correction.

“Oh I see,” Travis acknowledged.

The scotch on top of the beer he had consumed was taking the conversation from him, leaving a fuzzy distant feeling and now the crickets in the bougainvillea appeared dulled, outplayed by the nervous thumping in his ears.

“That Travis was a come-on, don’t you know when a girl is giving you the come-on or are you gay?” Nola asks sarcastically.

“No I’m not gay and I did realise your intention but -,”

Travis paused and sighed.

“But what?”

“I suppose I should be honest, I’ve been in the bush for too long and am somewhat green in that area,” Travis blushed and turned away from the intense gaze of Nola to the security of his empty glass, thinking it somewhat odd he didn’t feel aroused by Nola’s suggestion. He blamed the alcohol.

“Nice – I also like an inexperienced man,”

“You’ve sure got one in me,” Travis mumbled as Nola placed her glass down and approaching Travis from behind, wrapping her arms around his neck and chest. Travis felt a flow of energy from Nola’s embrace, as the aroma of her perfume became even more overpowering.

With the embrace came Nola’s need to touch. She was reaching out for comfort to carry her through the night, she required consoling but not passion. “Oh I love the smell of a Ringer,” she says while breathing heavily from his masculinity, then without invitation cupped Travis’ crotch with her hand while gently squeezed his now swelling member into full attention.

“Come on cowboy take me to your bed.”

The hotel’s rooster brought Travis into a new day, while the sound of frustrated hens arguing close by the verandah added humour to his morning. Nola had long left his bed to attend to her early morning chores, leaving him with the memory of the night before. He stretched and yawned then burst into a giggle.

“My first root!” he declared loudly, turning back the sheet looked upon his nakedness and was proud of his ability to perform while somewhat intoxicated. The thought brought life back to his member and the need to relieve it. Doing so his thoughts returned to Nola and her form as she lay below his body while guiding him.

A thought developed.

‘She rooted me,’

Travis commenced to laugh.

Retrospectively it was her freckles and her boyishness that had attracted, not the size of her breasts, those playful puppies in a basket, or her shapely legs beneath that short floral dress, thus calculated to be from his lack of experience. Again it was most probably a phase and with further encounters his interest would develop.

Travis attempted to envisage Nola’s breasts without success. All he could visualise were her freckles and he thought of Sam Hinds. He laughed. Why Sam? He had no liking for Sam Hinds. Sam smelt of stale cheese and had the attitude of a moron, with a wet patch at the crotch of his trousers brought on by constant juvenile arousal. Still it was Sam’s freckles and Evan’s face that came to mind. If Nola offered would he once more service her like some brood mare? He knew he would but it would need to be at her beckoning and in Greg’s words, they always came back for the receipt.

Throughout the day Travis’ thoughts remained with Nola to such an extent he could not concentrate on his supplies. Even as far as forgetting to feed Titch until late in the afternoon. That night he eagerly returned to the bar, his heart racing and his member rising and falling with sexual anticipation.

At the bar his expectations took a tumble. Instead of Nola, her husky voice and large breasts he discovered Rose was back and disappointment dissolved any further rush of blood.

“Hey Rose where’s Nola,” Travis asks while ordering a beer.

“Gone back home on this morning’s train; did you fancy her?” Rose replied with a knowing grin.

“Not really,” Travis lied.

“Then you would be the only one who didn’t,” Rose laughed and winked at the half dozen ringers drinking at the bar, who to a man announced their disappointment.

Travis once again rose with the morning’s rooster and headed out with the crispness that often comes before sunrise. It was the northern dry. Some called it winter. It was true the mornings could be cold enough to call it winter and the frost could cut into your flesh like a razor but as soon as the sun peeped above the trees, it took away the brittle morning air to be replaced with heat that caused sweat to pool in your clothing and trickle down your back without any cooling effect. Travis had adapted well to the condition and thought nothing of it. Besides he knew little else and on hot days preferred to be out in its influence, rather than inside some sweat-box room where the air hung like some invisible wet sponge, to sap your energy away even before the call for lunch.

Outside Mt. Surprise Travis headed towards Luke’s lagoon, as he had buried a number of tins of baked beans and other non-perishables to lessen his load and wished to retrieve them. He had also decided to revisit the lagoon for a short while before heading out towards Forsayth and Georgetown, thinking it wise to keep the gulf towns within reach at all times in case of some emergency.

Once on his way Travis’ thoughts returned to Nola. He laughed realising he had become her entertainment and once the solitude of the night had lifted from her, she no longer needed his services and was gone to find comfort elsewhere. For an instant he felt used but as quickly realised if there was guilt, it was as equally his. Besides he did enjoy himself and lost nothing but his virginity and if she again offered, he would be in like the proverbial rabbit.

‘I’ve never done it on horseback,’ Travis thought feeling the urge for relief grow strongly beneath the restriction of his trousers. Instead he rearranged his discomfort and decided against, while his thoughts diverted from Nola to Evan and what Bradley had acknowledged in his letter.

Travis understood Bradley’s thinly veiled suggestion but put it from mind not wishing to believe its implication. Yet he had not chided Evan for such thoughts as it gave him comfort. Was this using his friend’s emotion, making him no different from Greg and his need to be gratified? Besides he had not disagreed to meet Evan later that year. Why? Also on that day on the Baron River bank he had thought his friend cute and had an urge to cuddle into that cuteness. Now it all became much too difficult to contemplate.

On reaching his previous campsite Travis soon discovered his cache of baked beans had been plundered. This time there were fresh foot-prints along the muddy bank of the lagoon, – human footprints, barefooted and possibly those of a youth within his teenage years.

“Bloody big bandicoots!” Travis declared loudly while examining the camp for further evidence. Tracks lead to the water’s edge and returned a short distance further along the lagoon. They were small and not his own and flat-footed but no other sign of their owner remained. The thief had long gone and with his going went Travis’ supplies. It mattered not, he had ample and could replenish without effort, concluding the stranger’s need was obviously far greater than his own. Still he pondered long on who would be travelling by foot and without footwear in such a remote area with the need to steal food.

Far to the north-east the sky was black and menacing. Travis knew the sign well. Rain in the dry was rare and always came from the east, while the summer monsoon arrived from the opposing direction and the Carpentaria Gulf. With the sunlight quickly fading Travis decided to move his camp away from the lagoon edge. If the storm brought heavy rain it may swell the creek feeding the lagoon and flood him out. He also made secure the tarpaulin and swag as best he could against the pending rain.

“You reckon I should have stayed another night in town?” Travis questioned Titch, while stringing a rope between two trees and attaching the halter to avoid her taking fright and disappearing into the scrub during the storm. He trusted her character not to stray but an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure and he had no wish to spend the next week searching through the Mt. Surprise bush for her, or loosing Titch forever to a mob of brumbies, as the surrounding hills were well stocked with feral horses.

The brumbies were a sturdy lot called Walers and clever, being descended from the original mob brought out during the settlement of New South Wales almost two hundred years previously, so the name Walers but early in settlement many escaped to the great interior. In the most it was the Walers that made up the body of the Australian Light Horse during the First World War.

Travis remembered one such Waler with a mean disposition when he was but a boy on Creek Run. It couldn’t be left near sheep as it often spitefully tore the wool from their back with it teeth. It was also a great hurdler and hard to keep yarded. Travis remembered one afternoon he, although told not to do so, attempted to bring the milking cows into the yard but Stinker, as the horse was named in mixed company but Arse-hole at other times, came into the yard with the cows. Travis attempted to get it out but it escaped into the home paddock and came at him. Travis ran screaming back to the house with Stinker at his back taking out the seat of his trousers with a single bite. It broke of its attack as one of the stockman came to the rescue.

Stinker made one challenge too many and was hit by the Mt. Isa night goods train. Oddly the horse survived but some days later was found dead with a foot long splinter of rail sleeper in its gut. Stinker’s carcass was burnt and fed to the pigs and chooks, possibly a fitting end for a nasty piece of work.

At dusk the storm arrived. Firstly a gentle cooling breeze, followed by stillness, while the sky overhead turned ink black. The smell of dust and rain removed that of heated eucalyptus oil from the now gathering breeze, while the air was alive with the power of the approaching storm, so much so Travis could feel the electricity on his skin and in his hair. Soon heavy drops of rain raised dust as they struck the earth, sizzling within the embers of his evening’s fire, then became more frequent, turning into and a steady down-pour which lasted into the early morning.

Around midnight with the rain still falling heavily the soil wall Travis built behind his camp to protect from runoff gave way, delivering a torrent of water through his camp. He quickly mended the breach but not before the clothing he was wearing and his swag received a soaking and no amount of bad language could alleviate the problem, leaving him to sit in his wet clothes and wait for the morning. Fortunately because of the storm the night was warm and his wet clothes acted as insulation. Just before dawn the clouds dissipated and that well known carpet of stars brought a little cheer to Travis otherwise damp existence.

With first light Travis surveyed his camp, finding the rebuild of the earth wall held without allowing more water into his belongings. His saddle was dry, as were the saddlebags containing clothing and supplies. It was the lagoon that gave him greatest surprise. The water lever had risen substantially, flooding the original camp sight, while its feeder creek was flowing strongly at both ends.

With the first heat of the day Travis removed his wet clothing and with the wet swag hung them to dry from branches. While in naked state he was surprised by a voice from close behind; turning he again came face to face with Joey, this time alone and without the cattle.

“I got wet with the rain last night,” Travis explained as he pulled a pair of trousers over his naked buttocks.

“I can see that; have you seen anyone hanging around here?”

“No but I’ve been in town for a few days and only arrived back yesterday; is there some problem?” Travis asks reflecting on his missing baked beans but decided not to share the theft with Joey.

“I wouldn’t go swimming in there after the rain. It will be a bog and you don’t know what’s been washed down.” Joey suggested without answering Travis’ question. He turned his horse and commenced to leave. Turning in the saddle he called back. “Are you staying long?”

“Nope, I only came back to collect a few things.”

“Just as well, I’ll be bringing the cattle down tomorrow,” he paused then giving a mischievous smile continued, “I don’t want your naked arse scaring the girls do I?” then bringing his mount to gallop he disappeared back into the scrub.

Travis watched long after Joey was gone from sight. His thoughts returned to his baked bean thief and Joey’s statement on seeing anyone about. Had the same person raided the homestead and did Joey think Travis was the thief?

Travis decided to head out the following day but with the decision a wall of uncertainty clouded his confidence and once again dampened his resolve but enough adventure remained to drive him on. He smiled towards his hesitation, measuring it to be as that of a clock’s pendulum, swinging from positive to the negative, while somewhere at centre swing was the spark that gave him the impulse to continue. Another smile and a chesty giggle, “you think too much,” Travis assumed, “and you spend too much time talking to yourself, maybe you are coming down with bush madness,” he added loudly without giving credence to the suggestion. It was true of some men who spent much of their life in solitude after returning to civilization continued to conduct lengthy conversations with themselves. Yet he had only commenced his wandering and hadn’t time to develop such idiosyncratic behaviour, “I hope,” he concluded with the thought.

By mid afternoon his bedding and clothing had dried but his campsite remained too damp to use, so he moved further back into the scrub, then moved again as he almost settled on a bull ant nest and had them most upset; darting this way then that, while milling over his boots and threatening further advancement. Using a branch of leaves he quickly removed the angry insects but not before receiving a number of nasty bites on his ankle inside his thick woollen sock, sending him into a merry dance and causing an outburst of foul language.

It didn’t help.

Almost immediately the stings swelled his ankle to such an extent he couldn’t replace his boots, remaining swollen and painful for the rest of the day and into the following, with redness and discomfort lingering for many days after. Another bush lesson learnt the hard way.

After settling in for the night Travis lay back in his swag. Firstly it was the red haze of sunset as the country became touched by the eerie half glow between night and day, to eventually lose his thoughts among the stars, until the rising moon brought every tree to life and shone its magic on the lagoon. It gave him pause and removed his doubt. He was ready to travel on to the next phase of his enterprise and looked forward to the new day.

Some thought was given to returning home for the comfort of cooked meals, hot showers and the company of others but it was fleeting as he knew that time would come when his travelling was over. Besides who could fill those needs, he thought of Bradley with his stern disposition, resembling a cattle dog without the bite, with his dry humour that lacked any pretence to smile? Greg and his need for alcohol and to be continuously complemented by girls, while treating them as if they were chattel, nothing more than items to be used? Last but not least there was Evan. Yes sweet Evan as faithful as anyone could be, respectful forgiving Evan who no one considered. Always ready to please, always smiling and laughing and always there.

Travis smiled with the thought of Evan and wished he were riding with him. Maybe he had been somewhat dismissive of Evan’s assurance he would be in Forsayth for their meeting. “What did Bradley mean about Evan?”

As Travis spoke out his thoughts there was bright flash in the sky and a trailing of what appeared to be fire. The intrusion into his quiet came from the north and made a sizzling sound as it hit the earth’s atmosphere then entered towards him. It fizzled and with a thud hit the ground and by his reckoning somewhere nearby across the lagoon.

“That was close,” He exclaimed and stood casting his gaze through the darkness into the direction of the strike, expecting to see some dramatic event but seeing nothing he returned to his swag.

“I should try and find that,”

“People pay good money for space rock,”

Travis let it be as there wasn’t any use attempting to find it in the dark and to do so he would need to cross the lagoon, or walk the distance around its end. Besides his judgement of close could be quite some distance, if at all.

“Yes Bradley what did you mean?” Travis continued with hid thought on Evan.

“You know well what he meant; you just don’t want to admit it,” he continued, “why so?”

He gave a head laugh. “Listen kiddo there’s also something about yourself you don’t want to admit,” but as quickly he rejected the thought, returning to the following morning’s departure, while going over what supplies he had and if more were necessary.

“You just want an excuse to return to Mt. Surprise,”

“You want a rematch with Nola don’t you?” Travis added as he drifted away from the night.

He was asleep.

Sunup and still Travis had not risen. It was the anxious snorting of Titch that eventually brought him to consciousness. Oddly the usual sonorous call of birds had failed as his alarm.

“What’s up girl?” Travis asks approaching and patting her muzzle. “No grass.” He noted and moved her to a greener patch along the lagoon; “you have two hours and were off,” he declared and returned to prepare his breakfast.

“Beans,” he exclaimed as they sizzled over the heat of the open fire. He added bacon and wished for an egg but eggs travelled badly.

“I wonder who the thief was.”

“Obvious he also likes baked beans,”

“I guess he’d be long gone by now.”

While clearing up after his breakfast and packing away the last of his belongings, Travis was again distracted by Joey’s cattle coming over the rise a short distance from his camp. Shortly the form of Joey arrived, whistling and shouting and cursing at the tail end of his mob of cattle. Spotting Travis he left the droving to the men and approached Travis.

“See you’ve got you pants on this time,” Joey says and dismounted.

“Didn’t want to scare your girls did I,” Travis answered in memory of Joey’s previous declaration.

“What was for breakfast?” Joey asks noticing Travis’ morning fire.

“Only beans and bacon,”

“Are you heading out?”

“I’m just about to.”

“I wasn’t trying to get rid of you, as I indicated it is crown land, so stay as long as you want. Only you will have to put up with the cattle coming for water.” Joey explained apologetically.

“That’s no worries, as soon as I’ve finished packing I’m on my way.”

“Do you know cattle?” Joey asks.

“A little, dad managed a property out this way.”

“Which property?”

“Cumberland Downs,”

“It’s out past Georgetown I believe.”

“It is; you asked if I had seen anyone around, has there been trouble?”

“Someone’s been stealing food from our store.”

“Same here I’ve lost a few tins of beans and a tin opener,”

“Probably some swagman but they don’t usually come around this time of the year, they don’t like the cold nights,” Joey explained, “are you sure you’re not looking for work, were a couple of men down at the moment?”

“Sure mate, maybe another time.” Travis answered.

“If you want come over home and have a shower and a feed, it’s but two miles over to the west.” Joey offered.

“Na, I should be alright for now,”

“Suit yourself,” Joey gave a gentle nod, allowing his gaze to calculate Travis for a moment, “I’ll be seeing you around then,”

“Yes see ya’,” Travis called after the lad.

Gary’s stories are about life in Australia as a gay man. Your emails to him are the only payment he receives. Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net

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