Published: 23 Aug 2021

Roy Brown was Travis’ Uncle and younger brother to his father Jim. Roy, unmarried, was considered to be the family’s renegade, its black sheep who never conformed to family expectations. In his late twenties he was still child-like in attitude and approach to life, with a cheeky disposition and money. All of which he fell into, having the type of luck many aspire towards but seldom acquire, as everything Roy touched turned to profit. He could purchase an old hack for ten and sell it minutes later to the knackery for twenty. Yet none of his good fortune influenced his simple, happy carefree character.

With his dark brown hair worn long even before it became fashionable to do so, his hazel eyes and handsome face Roy was considered to be a catch for the most social minded of the town’s females. Yet Roy’s interests in the fairer sex didn’t appear to be apparent. In truth quite the opposite and although it was only gossip in family circles his obvious disinterest in girls, along with the fact those he hired to work on his three properties appeared to be young, blond and male was well noted by his brothers and others. Still Travis liked Roy and remained innocent to his family’s suspicions and the guarded whispers between adults at Christmas and family gatherings.

It was Saturday evening and Travis was much at a loose end. Greg had not returned from the Tablelands and since being banned from visiting Warwick he felt as if he were a stranger in his own town. Most of his school friends from the previous year, like Greg, had found work, or had permanent girlfriends, or simply left town for greener pastures and although somewhat reclusive in character, Travis did crave for occasional company.

It was such a night. The thought of drinking alone at the Royal dissuaded him from entering the bar as he paused by the saloon door contemplating his next move.

“Travis, are you going in or not?”

The words came from behind as Travis blocked the doorway with his indecision. He turned discovering his Uncle Roy displaying his usual characteristic bonhomie attitude.

“Roy,” Travis simply greeted.

“Come on mate I’ll shout you a drink,” Roy offered as he pushed past his nephew.

Travis followed Roy to the bar.

“What will you have young fellow?” Roy asks.

“I wouldn’t mind a scotch but they won’t serve it to me as I’m still under age.” Travis’ request was not from taste for the beverage but from Dennis’ refusal to serve him with it.

Roy smiled as he retrieved a well worn, well cashed wallet from his pocket, “Hey Dennis, two scotches,” he ordered placing his money on the bar.

“Travis is with you Roy?” Dennis Higgins enquired lifting his eyes from Roy to Travis then back to Roy.

“Sure mate, have one your self,” Roy offered.

Dennis served the drinks but declined the offer of a free drink while scowling his disapproval.

“I know he’s family Roy but don’t make a habit of it, I don’t want his old man coming down on me,” he warned while passing the drinks to Roy, who winked and thanked the barman while noticing Dennis had limited the scotch in one of the glasses.

“I’m paying for a full measure Dennis.”

The barman hesitated before allowing the proper measure of scotch.

“So you’ve finished school,” Roy asks while passing a glass to his nephew.

“Yep- last year, now I’m as free as a bird,” Travis declared proudly but felt somewhat caged for a fledgling.

“Hey Roy, what are you doing with that load of timber you got from Ben Miller?” A voice questioned from further along the bar.

“I haven’t yet decided Chris – why?”

“I’ll take it off your hands. I’m building a new shed and you beet me to it, I’ll top what you paid for it.”

“I should think we can come to some arrangement, come and see me at the office,”

Roy didn’t have an office but enjoyed the odd day’s fishing and felt more relaxed with a line in the water while doing business with a beer on a shady riverbank.

“What are you doing for work?” Roy asks and suggested they take a table away from the noise.

“Jack Johnson has offered me work.” Travis answered without displaying any measure of conviction towards such an offer.

“Are you going to take it?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Just as well, the horse trade is dead. I only have them as a hobby,” Roy paused, “cars are the go – get yourself a job as a grease-monkey, that’s the way.” Roy slapped his nephew hard on the back and downed his drink in one gulp, then ordered another for himself. “If you like I’ll have a word with Eddy Turner at the top garage he owes me a favour or two.”

“Dad has suggested Ted Wilson,”

“Ted – he’s a taskmaster and has already filled the position and only pays peanuts. Why not try for an apprenticeship with a carpenter, people always need houses.”

“That is what Greg suggested.”

“Greg Stanley?” Roy laughed.

“He is working for his uncle,” Travis says.

“He won’t last, Greg hasn’t the staying power. I’ll give him two months.”

“He appears to like the work.”

“Like is one thing, doing is another,” Roy pauses, “sorry he’s a mate of your’s so I should respect that. Then young fella’ what would you like to do?”

“I like horses,” Travis cheerfully declared ignoring Roy’s opinion of his mate.

“Yea you and your old man alike and look where it got him,” Roy warned.

“You were once a horseman,”

“I still am in a way but now I mostly breed them instead of riding them.”

“Why so Roy?”

“Simply the way things turned out. You can’t keep an ear to business if you’re galloping about the paddock. So if you’re not interested in mechanics what else interest you?”

“I’d like to go bush for a while.”

“What does your mother think of that?” Roy asks.

“I think you know that answer but I am old enough to make up my own mind,” Travis boldly insisted.

“Not with that father of yours, even as kids he was a pushy little bugger, just like your grandfather and look what it got him.”

“What did happen to Grandad Brown?”

“Heart attack; overworked and dead at forty-one. He was out mustering and the old ticker gave out and dropped him to the ground. If his heart didn’t kill him the fall would have.”

“What was he like, other than hard working?”

“A surely bugger and handy with the razor strap and a religious crank,” Roy emptied his second glass, “want another?”

“No thank you Roy, I haven’t finished this one yet.”

“No you haven’t, you’re like your old man he is also a slow drinker, Jim could sit on a drink through half a dozen rounds,” Roy went to the bar and brought back two fresh drinks, “get that into you, and don’t you dare tell your old man.”

“Dad never speaks of grandad and mum hardly knew him,” Travis admitted.

“So you are interested in horses?” Roy disregarded his nephew’s question on the grandfather.

“I would love to give it a try.”

“Tell you what; I have a bunch of horses over at Bullock Creek, why don’t you work there for me for a while,” Roy suggested while Travis remained non-committal on the offer of work as it wasn’t what he had in mind by going bush. Still it would be a start and as Roy continued his conversation a spark of excitement did developed.

“Do you mean that Roy?” Travis says while not wishing to sound too interested until he had gleaned what his uncle meant by work.

“Sure,”

“Doing what?” Travis added.

“Well for a start you could help young Bradley around the property,” Roy paused; “do you know Bradley Cooper?”

Travis admitted he did not.

“He’s somewhat a loner is young Bradley and needs to be brought out of his shell. Besides the mob is getting more than he can manage on his own.”

Travis fiddled with his empty glass and being his second and not used to the beverage began to feel its influence.

“Another?” Roy asks while looking for the barman’s attention.

“Best not to,” Travis answered gently pushing his glass to the side.

“Like your father, sensible to a fault.”

Travis’ decline didn’t prevent Roy from partaking further this time a double.

“What do you think of my offer?”

“Don’t rightly know Roy it’s come as a surprise.”

“What about your parents?” Roy continued placing his hand on Travis’ knee which instantly transferred to his brain making him flinch away from the contact but Roy’s hand remained, then patting his nephew’s knee Roy folded his arms and took a deep breath. “Well?”

“Mum would hate the idea; she want’s me to take up saddlery.”

“What about your father?”

“Since his accident he has become shy of horses.”

“You haven’t told them about going bush; have you young fellow?” Roy declared.

“I’ve hinted at it, besides as I said, I’m old enough to may my own choice,” Travis answered displaying a measure of annoyance. He thought of Warwick and his parent’s control, which only made him more determined to make his own decisions.

“Maybe so but I’m only offering with their consent,” Roy says and stood from the table, “got to take a piss,” he declared and left Travis to ponder over the offer.

While waiting for his uncle’s return Travis thoughts became lost in the sea of horsemen and tobacco farmers lined along the u-shaped bar. They appeared united as one in conversation and cigarette smoke, all laughing and talking crudely while away from their womenfolk. There were Scots and Irish, Italians and Dutch and others that Travis had no idea about, yet they were a happy lot. A United Nation of work and workers and here sat Travis clueless of his future and so involved with the crowd he didn’t hear Roy return.

“Well Travis what do you think of my offer?” Roy asks, placing a hand on Travis’ shoulder and making him jump.

“I like it Roy but;” Travis answered.

“But what?”

“It’s not what I meant by going bush,” Travis declared.

“So you use it as a starting point, I won’t hold you to the job. As I said you will have to okay it with your parents first.”

It was a week before Travis built enough courage to bring up the subject of working for his Uncle Roy, executing the matter at a time he knew his father was about to leave for work and in too much of a hurry to argue. This would give his father the entire day to stew over the suggestion, leaving only his mother to contend with.

“I’m not happy with the idea son,” Jim Brown declared sternly. Kissing his wife goodbye he stood silently for a moment, “we’ll talk about it further tonight,” Jim concluded then hurried out the door complaining bitterly about his younger brother as he went.

“What about Mr. Johnson’s offer?” Margaret Brown asks from the kitchen sink, her words appeared to mingle with the soapy water and were more a plea than a question. Margaret removed the plug while waiting for a reply, thinking like the dish water her son’s sensibility was draining away.

Travis took a deep breath and withheld his answer.

“Well?” Margaret enforced as she finished drying the breakfast dishes.

“Roy said that saddlery is on the way out,” Travis answered attempting to make his defence appear plausible.

“Possibly so but surely you could do something else; what about that position at Wilson’s Service Station for an apprentice mechanic, – you’re good with your hands.”

“That is also what Roy suggested but I don’t much like cars, besides Roy said Ted Wilson has already filled the position,” Travis grumbled but says nothing about the position at the top garage.

“You don’t have to like cars to work on them,” Margaret Brown paused and poured a second cup of tea. It was cold by then so she again boiled the kettle. Returning to the table she continued; “and why Roy, your father would rather you worked for someone else.”

“Roy’s alright.”

“Yes but he -” Margaret hesitated then choosing her reasoning carefully she continued, “he drinks too much.”

“Not that much, besides he’s fun.”

“Your father doesn’t trust him,” Margaret informed from her own mistrust of Roy Brown and not that of her husband.

“What happened between dad and Uncle Roy?”

“What do you mean love?”

“I don’t know that is why I am asking. There has always been some unspoken uneasiness whenever Roy is around or when anyone brings up his name.”

As he spoke Travis remembered the night at the bar and Roy’s hand on his knee, thinking it had remained there longer than etiquette dictated. He also remembered the previous Christmas and the family reunion. Although Roy had been invited he didn’t attend. Something to do with sick horses at Bullock Creek but when his name was mentioned in conversation there was silence, followed by whispering and laughter before comment on young blond stock hands was made by his mother.

“You will have to ask your father,” Margaret concluded then diverted from the subject of Roy.

During a private moment in the shop before Margaret released Jim to do his trucking, Jim made a telephone call to his brother Roy.

“Jim, what’s up mate?” Roy answered his voice as bubbly as ever, displaying his carefree attitude.

“This job you’ve offered Travis,”

“As I told him it is only on your approval.”

“What does it entail?”

“Not a lot in the most, feeding the stock and generally helping out my manager about the property.”

“I don’t like the idea Roy,” Jim quietly discredited.

“Jim you have to let him go eventually, he needs to make his own mistakes in life.”

“Possibly so but I would rather he found work in town.”

“Look Jim, why not let him take up at Bullock Creek for a few weeks and it may get the travel bug out of his system. It would be better than him going off half-cocked and get into all sorts of trouble.”

“Possibly you are right, I’ll think about it.”

“You do that Jim, and while I have you on the telephone, Len Reynolds over at Rocky Creek has a load of watermelons, I could get them for you at a good price for the shop.”

“Margaret handles the buying; besides we don’t have the customers to take bulk,”

“Only a thought mate, have to go but let me know of your decision on young Travis,”

It was well after that night’s meal before Jim Brown spoke on the subject of Travis working for his brother Roy. Firstly there was an attempt to convince his son to take up employment in town but unsuccessful, also the apprenticeship at the garage and working for Jack Johnson were again proposed without swaying the lad.

“Roy also suggested the garage,” Travis admitted giving Jim a rare opinion of sensibility towards his brother.

“I still don’t like the idea of you going off half-cocked and working at Bullock Creek,” Jim scowled deeply without mentioning his conversation with Roy during that day.

“Why is everyone down of Roy?” Travis demanded.

“That isn’t so Travis,” Jim’s words were as one backing away from admitting some truth.

“It appears that way to me and last Christmas -.”

“Listen son there are things best left alone.”

“Is it something to do with grandad?”

Jim Brown was becoming annoyed and diverted back to his earlier days and his accident, developing fear Travis may go the same way with his irrational thinking while around horses.

“What if you have an accident? Bullock Creek is somewhat isolated.”

“That won’t happen,” Travis assured with the tenacity of youth.

Jim was losing the argument and couldn’t think of further protest other than relate his opinion of his brother. Eventually he agreed to what was thought to be the lesser evil therefore he relented.

“Look son I would rather you didn’t work for Roy he is a bad influence.” Jim finally declared after running out of valid excuses.

“He’s alright dad besides I’m smart enough not to get into trouble.”

“Why not try one of the cattle stations back in the gulf; I can introduce you to a few managers?” Jim reluctantly suggested.

“I don’t really want to work on a station at the moment, I just want to drift for a while and Roy’s offer would allow me to obtain a horse and get a feeling for the bush.” Travis sounded convincing and for the first time his father realised his son had become of age and although headstrong he agreed Travis was sensible enough to avoid most of the mischief the youth of the day aspired towards.

“Alright you win but I want you to be careful of Roy,” Jim agreed.

“Again what is the problem you have with Roy?”

“It doesn’t matter, just keep your distance and don’t overdo the booze and at the slightest impropriety come straight home.”

“What do you mean by impropriety?” Travis quizzed.

“Just as I said,”

Jim was obviously holding that family card close and not prepared to play it.

Travis remained silent towards his father’s impart believing if he kept pushing, Jim may reverse his obviously disinclined consent.

“I’ll be alright, besides from what Roy has said there isn’t a lot of riding connected with the position and he only has half a dozen bullocks on the property, besides I won’t be alone.”

“Again son, just be careful and be sure you contact your mother as often as possible or she will have me on the train going up there to check on you.”

So it was agreed, Travis could work for Roy at Bullock Creek. Now all that remained was to make the arrangements with his uncle, who was out of town until the following weekend, giving Travis ample time to plan his departure but one hurdle remained, that being his mother and he would leave that for another day.

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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