Published: 21 Mar 2022

The up train to Forsayth arrived and its only passenger walked the short distance across the street to the hotel where he booked a room. He was a lad in his late teenage years and by his appearance much out of place in the small bush town, yet while lacking in experience he showed resolve as he approached the bar. The lad’s ever smiling face compensated for his nervousness, while within his chest his heart beat fast with anticipation as his eyes flashed about as if in search for someone.

“What can I do for you pet?” Robyn enquired whipping down spillage across the polished bar.

“I am supposed to be meeting someone but I will need a room.”

“Your name?” Robyn asks, her pencil hovering above the hotel registry.

“Evan Williams,” The lad answered somewhat shyly.

“How long will you be staying?” Robyn asks as Evan signed the register.

“I don’t know yet, do you have a Travis Brown booked in?” he hopefully questioned.

“Travis Brown. I don’t think so,” Robyn scanned the recent page of the register in case someone else had handled the booking. “No Travis Brown I’m afraid. Hang on there was a Travis Brown here some time back. He stayed a few days, collected his mail and after posting some letters he booked out.” Robyn appeared to be in thought. Whenever a guest posted letters she made it her business to read the addresses, more for wishing to be elsewhere than from mischief, “if I remember correctly he posted three and if I’m not mistaken one was to you but I haven’t seen him since.” Robyn closed the register and replaced it beneath the bar.

“I’m supposed to meet him here today.”

“Well dear the day’s not over yet, the rooms are through that door and along the verandah. Number eight is the second last before the bathroom; breakfast is in the dining room between eight and nine-thirty.”

Once settled Evan returned to the bar and ordered a beer.

“Your friend hasn’t arrived yet,” Robyn assured with a kindly word. Evan thanked her and settled at a table well away from the bar. He was growing concerned.

Was it the correct date.

It was he assured.

Had Travis forgotten or simply wasn’t interested.

Evan retired after the bar closed with Robyn promising if Travis arrived late then she would wake him.

Evan lay restless for most of the night, his thoughts ran from anticipation to disappointment, thinking at any moment there would be a knock to his room door and there would stand Travis grinning, while smelling of horse sweat, eucalyptus and lagoon water, strongly apologising for the odour and his late arrival.

With the morning there was still no word of Travis. Evan enquired at the general store hoping for news. The Storekeeper did remember Travis but had not seen him for quite some time and once back at the hotel Robyn could only give him further disappointment.

Two day’s had passed, then a third and still without word, Evan was devastated he had waited too long for this day for it to become nothing. What could he do but return to Mareeba on the next train and forget about his meeting with Travis.

The following day Evan decided there was little more he could than leave for home and after asking once more around the town he returned to the hotel to book his ticket.

“No luck then love?” Robyn asks as she prepared to write his train ticket.

“I’m afraid not.”

Robyn paused before completing the ticked, “there is one last hope, I have just heard of a young fellow in a bad way over at the Georgetown hospital, I tried to find out his name but the telephone line in down, something to do with sunspots and static,” she vaguely explained without any notion of the workings of telephone lines other than it was inclined to demand answering at the most inapt time.

“How do I get over there?” Evan asks as a spark of hope came to him.

“I’m afraid you will have to wait for tomorrow’s rail service and take a ride with Don Smith the mailman.”

That night was the longest Evan had ever experienced. Often walking the length of the verandah, in hope he would hear voices. A late arrival begging to be let in, or a telephone call declaring Travis’ apology for his lateness – but there was nothing.

With the morning Evan found Robyn in the dining room making ready for breakfast. He asked if the telephone was back in use but Robyn soon advised him that she had already tried without any success. “It can be down for days, were not like the city love, things are done to country time out here,” she admitted while setting the three meal tables.

Evan was seated on the hotel’s verandah when he heard the arrival of the up rail service and as if he was propelled from his chair by a nest of bull ants was down the steps and towards the station almost before the engine had closed down its steam. Donald Smith the mail contractor was already collecting the mail when Evan found him and without introduction commenced to quiz on passage to Georgetown.

Most of the mail had been sorted back in Mareeba. Georgetown, Forsayth and Croydon had their own bag, which were delivered to their relative postal agents but the mail for the scattering of cattle station’s came in unsorted bags, this Smith had to sort and re-bag himself, as each property had its own canvas satchel with a lock. The mailman would hold one key while a second would be held by the property managers, so the sorting would take some time.

Evan firstly enquired if the man had heard anything about the lad in hospital at Georgetown but he had not.

“What is the name of the fellow you are to meet?” The mailman asks.

“Travis Brown,”

“Travis Brown, yes I knew his father, and I saw Travis a short while back out at Cumberland Downs,” Smith answered while handling a bag. He broke the seal and peered into its darkness before tipping the contents onto the rear of his truck. “I don’t know anything about Travis returning to Forsayth, I was under the impression he was heading towards Croydon,” Smith declared while sorting the mail into delivery order and placing each bundle into its destination bag. “About this fellow in the Georgetown Hospital – I don’t know,” the mailman paused and commenced to load the boxes of station supplies onto his truck. Evan volunteered help as the mailman continued; “I guess if Travis was to have an accident or become sick, then he would be taken to Georgetown but he seemed pretty healthy to me.”

“Still I would like to find out for certain, can you take me to Georgetown?” Evan insisted.

Donald Smith agreed he could but wouldn’t arrive there until late evening because of the train’s delay, most probably after hospital visiting hours therefore Evan may have to book into the Georgetown hotel for the night and make his visit to the hospital the following morning.

The mailman secured his mail and commenced to cross the road towards the hotel, “Come on you can buy me a beer; I’ve a dry throat.”

Donald Smith didn’t stop at one to lubricate his throat and downed more than common sense decreed and an hour later, more staggered than walked from the pub, giving much concern to Evan’s sense of safety.

“Come on young fellow,” he offered and climbed into the cabin of old canvas covered tray truck, then as quickly fired life into the tired motor.

“Can you drive?” Smith asks as the last house slowly passed by in the developing darkness.

“Not a truck,” Evan admitted.

“Oh well, I suppose we’ll get there,” Smith laughed as he pushed the accelerator to the floor, sending the old Bedford along the rough dusty road at the breakneck speed of, at a guess as none of the gauges worked, forty miles an hour. Once passed Robin Hood Station, Smith’s last stop before Georgetown, he appeared to have sobered somewhat and became quite chatty, although his driving skills remained erratic, not slowing for large rocks or bad creek crossings and whooping like some child captivated by his first carnival ride, then with great relief for Evan the scattered lights of Georgetown came into view.

“Were here lad,” the mailman declared coming to a shuddering stop outside a building that appeared to be a dwelling rather than one of the medical profession, yet the large white sign with neat black lettering did declare it to be the Hospital.

Evan thanked the driver and with trepidation followed the path through a small but well kept garden, along a gravelled path lined with white painted rocks to the hospital’s verandah.

Climbing the stairs Evan paused at the door.

Dim lighting shone on beige walls while inside the air smelt clinical and everywhere silence prevailed, creating fear to speak unless one would shatter the very essence of its serenity. Evan progressed without seeing anyone, then from behind a woman’s voice startled him.

“Can I help you young man?”

Evan turned to face a middle aged woman with ample figure, dressed in white uniform and starched to such a degree it may stand upright on its own accord.

“Ah yes, I believe you have a fellow in here that may be a mate of mine,” Evan asks nervously.

“And what would your friends name be?” The matron enquired in a soft soothing voice. Evan paused almost too anxious to announce the name in case it was not Travis but he knew he must know one way or another.

“Travis Brown.” Evan answered.

“We do have a young man by that name here but he is asleep at the moment and it is long past visiting hours,” the matron declared.

“Is he alright?” Evan enquired as relief overcome him, which was soon replaced by a sense of foreboding as he imagined the worse.

“And who may you be?”

“Evan Williams, we were at school together and I am to meet up with him this week.”

“If you can say two broken ribs, concussion and multiple bruising is alright, then he is fine,” the matron informed incidentally.

“Can I see him?” Evan asks excitedly.

“Not until the morning, visiting hours commence at ten.”

“Could I just look in on him, I won’t stay?” Evan pleaded.

“Very well, follow me.”

The matron led Evan down a poorly lit passage to an equally poorly lit ward at the rear of the building. The ward held four beds, only one was occupied.

Evan approached cautiously.

“Is he your friend?” the Matron asks.

It only took a second for Evan to recognise the patient even through the bruising and swelling and the dim security lighting of the ward.

It was most definitely Travis.

Evan gave a sigh of relief, “yes but how did it happen?” he asks while gently placing his hand on Travis’ shoulder, then withdrawing his touch under the displeasing gaze from the matron.

“Travis will explain when you visit him in the morning, now I must ask you to leave.”

The Hotel room felt like a palace to Evan as he lay upon his bed unable to sleep because of his excitement in finding his friend. With the excitement there was also concern for Travis’ wellbeing and how his condition came about. Each time he fell asleep he would once again awaken anxious for the morning. With each moment of sleep came dreaming. Horses ran wild in his vision, galloping through the darkness of his head, from where Travis fell, ever falling until heavily to the sun baked earth. Falling, falling ever falling until with eyes wide and breath shallow Evan would wake to the shadows in his room.

Morning did eventually arrive but did not lessen Evan’s anxiety. Nine thirty and he could wait no more. As he walked the short distance to the hospital his gait quickening with each step, until within sight of the hospital he was almost at a trot.

At the verandah Evan paused then taking a deep breath to settle himself he entered and immediately came face to face with the matron from the previous night as she prepared to finish her shift, he almost knocking the poor woman to the floor. She righted herself with Evan’s help as he apologised profusely.

“Young man this is a hospital not a race track!” The woman complained then realising Evan to be her late visitor from the previous night she lessened her displeasure, “Evan isn’t it?” she recollected, “I thought I told you visiting hours commenced at ten?” she added sternly.

“Sorry.” Evan once more apologised, his expression relating his haste.

“Very well come on I’ll take you through, Matron Gladys Benson agreed with pretended annoyance. Evan followed to the ward and waited as she approached Travis, Gently shaking him at the shoulder she spoke.

“Travis I have a young man to see you,”

“Who is it?” Travis questions, his voice low and gravelled as he turned towards Evan.

“Travis it is me, Evan.”

Travis smiled weakly through his pain and attempted to reach out to his friend. Halfway towards Evan his arm failed and fell back to the bedding, as even the slightest movement brought discomfort to his still tender ribs. Travis gritted his teeth and moaned.

“Is it the tenth yet?” Travis attempts humour.

“It was a few days ago,” Evan says.

“And you kept to you word,”

“I always do, what happened to you, did you have a fall from your horse?” Evan asks as matron left them to privacy to finish her shift.

“No – I don’t know, all I remember is talking to Sergeant O’Sullivan then waking up here in hospital.” Travis answered. He took a deep breath and again flinched from the pain as even breathing hurt.

“Who is Sergeant O’Sullivan?” Evan asks.

Travis related what memory he had but could not recollect anything after the police sergeant’s visit to his camp, although he was quite certain it had been O’Sullivan who caused his grief. Eventually it was mealtime and Evan was asked to leave as breakfast of scramble eggs and toast arrived, with the understanding he could return at three for the afternoon visiting hours but not before. Evan agreed and promised to return.

On his leaving Evan quizzed the duty nurse on how Travis came by his grievous state. It appeared that little information was known. Travis was brought into the hospital yard slumped on horseback and being led by a lad, who after placing Travis in the care of the hospital, arranged for the horse to be attended to before handing himself into the local police.

“You will have to talk to Jack Malloy down at the police station,” the duty nurse advised as she showed Evan from the ward.

Immediately Evan went to the station where he enquired about the mysterious lad and Travis’ accident. The policeman on duty, a youthful pimple faced recruit was obvious new to his position and didn’t wish to divulge information without the permission of his superior. He stood as in thought for some time, then without urgency left the office, returning some minutes later with his superior, who was obviously disturbed from his paperwork while carrying a mug of tea.

“Why do you want information about my prisoner?” he roughly demanded of Evan.

“I believe he brought my friend Travis Brown to the Hospital.”

“That is true and how is Mr. Brown, as I wish to question him as soon as he is well enough,” the officer declared.

“Improving I believe,”

“What do you want to know?” the policeman demanded.

“What happened I suppose,” Evan answered.

“The kid’s name is Noah and he was accused of a crime, which since we have proof he didn’t commit,” the policeman paused then continued, “he had been on the run and befriended your Mr. Brown then after the accident, he brought Mr. Brown into hospital and handed himself in to us.”

“How did the accident happen?” Evan questions.

“That is under investigation and can’t be discussed at the moment,” the officer guardedly explained, “we are releasing Noah this morning, if you wish to talk to him then my constable will arrange it.”

“Not at the moment but would you let him know to visit Travis when he is released,” Evan says.

“Umm,” The Policeman grumbled and left the room.

During Evan’s afternoon visit to Travis, Noah did arrive. He entered the ward, his head lowered as would a pauper before the king. Coming closer to Travis’ bed he paused.

“Noah sit down and talk to me,” Travis beckoned. Noah complied and sat silently on the opposite side to Evan.

“Evan I want you to meet my hero – Noah.” Travis phrased. Evan stood and reached his hand across the bed.

Noah blushed with embarrassment at Travis’ suggestion.

“So the local police believed you?” Travis asks.

“Yes.”

“What happened about O’Sullivan?”

“He’s been sectioned or something,” Noah answered.

“What are you going to do now Noah?” Travis attempted to sit up but found the movement too painful. He relaxed back into his bed.

“Dunno’ go home I suppose,” Noah answered.

“How?”

“Walk. That is how I got here.”

“How did you get out Bullock Creek way?”

“I was hiding out with a cousin in Mareeba when O’Sullivan discovered where I was. I walked there also.”

“How can I ever repay you for bring me in?” Travis asks.

“There isn’t any need,”

“I seem to remember that you put me on Titch and rode with me,” Travis recollected.

“Yes.”

“Then Titch likes you or she wouldn’t have let you near her and I don’t think I’ll be riding for quite a while. Would you like to keep Titch?”

“Keep her?”

“Why not, I don’t have the means to return her to Bullock Creek, besides the stock there has already been sold or moved on, so why don’t you keep Titch.”

“I would have to change her name,” Noah declared his face lighting like an electric bulb being switched to on.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Where is she?” Travis asks.

“Mr. Goddard at the general store is looking after her for you,” Noah answered.

“Noah, will you ask Mr. Goddard to come in and I’ll draw up some paper to prove she is yours, can’t have you re-arrested for theft; can we?” Travis reached and with much discomfort took Noah’s hand, “thank you Noah, you’re a real mate.”

It took some time for Noah to believe Travis’ generosity was genuine while remaining quiet as Travis reacquainted with Evan.

Eventually Noah departed, leaving the two to their privacy.

“You had me worried for a time,” Evan says as he gently placed his hand on Travis’ arm. Travis allowed it to remain.

“It’s only a scratch,” Travis related a memory from some old western with a gentle smile.

“Should see you through my eyes,”

“How did you find me?”

“It wasn’t easy and I was about to return to Mareeba when the lady at the Forsayth hotel suggested I try here. I came over with the mailman.”

“Has Donald Smith’s driving improved?”

“It was a little scary and I believe he may have been drunk,” Evan released a slight shudder while recalling the ride.

“During my days on the Downs, it was said he drove better drunk than sober.”

“I’m not looking forward to a return journey with him,”

“Sorry,” Travis simply spoke.

“Why so?”

“I was looking forward to our meeting at Forsayth and had it all planned.”

“No matter,”

“What now, I can’t see us riding anywhere in the near future.”

“You get yourself better and then we’ll talk about it.”

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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