The stranger slowly approaches then while remaining at distance the stranger waves.

“I know who he is,” Tate loudly announces displaying a measure of pleasure.

Ben’s nerves are jumping about like a frog on a hot plate, “who it he?”

‘I’ll be buggered it is Wilson; it is my brother Wilson.”

Wilson quickens his approach and without the slightest interest in Ben offers his hand to Tate.

The brothers embrace.

Ben nervously steps aside, keeping his face turned away.

“What are you doing here?” Tate asks.

“I’ve come to see you.”

“Has something happened at home?”

“No, we hadn’t heard from you in a while and were concerned for your wellbeing, Elsie suggested I should find you.”

“What about your job carting with Les Jackson?”

“Jacko’s horse dropped dead while delivering a load of furniture out Freshwater way, so I’m out of work until he can get another horse.”

At this moment Wilson has a flash of realisation, he quickly turns his eyes to the tall handsome stranger standing a little to the left of his brother.

“Oh!”

“Ben, he is my brother Wilson, I have spoken of him.”

Ben remains silent but can see recognition in Wilson’s eyes mixed with a measure of fear.

“Isn’t -,” Wilson utters as he unconsciously takes a step away.

“Yes he is Ben Morgan.”

“But!”

“No matter what you have heard Wilson, Ben is innocent and one day we will prove his innocence.”

“I trust your judgement Tate.”

Ben isn’t as believing as Tate, “I think it is time I was gone from here,” his words are mumbled coming from that part of a man’s soul that governs fight or flee.

“Ben you can trust Wilson to keep quiet.”

“As I said brother, I trust your judgement and wouldn’t say anything about seeing Mr. Morgan.”

“Then walk with us back to the farm and tell me all the news from Smithfield.”

While continuing there was much for the brothers to relate. Firstly Freddie had given up working on the road and joined their brother Michael on the fishing boats, declaring it preferable to have salt in his lungs rather than dust. Also Thelma’s husband Lenny had given up his fancy lady and travelled north to reconcile their marriage for the sake of the kids. As for the reconciliation that lasted a week, ending in a heated row with Lenny returning south on the next available coach. There was one final surprise, Winnie was promised for marriage and come the spring she would wed here young man from the Surveyors Department.

With the news from home exhausted there remained Tate’s association with a wanted man. It was obvious Wilson was chafing at the bit to ask but allowed Tate to share in his own time. During the return Ben remained quiet hanging on every word Wilson spoke while judging his position with him. Trust is a rare component in the human arsenal of emotions, Ben trusted Tate explicitly but he was forming a mental picture of the brother and in his opinion Wilson was somewhat flighty.

It wasn’t long before Wilson realised there was more than friendship between his brother and Ben and Wilson being of character that found silence all but impossible had to ask.

As they reached the house Wilson crossed the line of privacy by using Tate’s affiliation with Tolga and his desire to reassociate with his native friend as catalyst, “did you manage to make contact with Tolga during your travelling?” Wilson questions.

“Not physically.”

“What do you mean by physically?”

Ben cuts across Wilson’s question;

“Tate has been dreaming about him.”

As the brothers had in the past been prone to sharing dreams Ben’s intrusion didn’t bring surprise;

“I remember a dream Tate had about Jimmy Cronk drowning and two day’s later he was lost in a storm at sea. With dreaming Tate has always been a bringer of woe.”

“Hey you two, I am here you know,” Tate complains.

“So what is it with you and Ben?” Wilson boldly asks bringing Ben to step away from the brothers’ reunion using the need to stow their supplies as the excuse.

Once alone Tate answers;

“Wilson you were never one to step lightly on any situation,” he sternly suggests.

“You know me, best to get the unpleasantries out in the first instance than to pussy around them for most of an afternoon.”

“As for Ben, he is a man in trouble and not of his own doing and I am simply helping him.”

Wilson gives a discrediting huff;

“You forget one thing Tate and that is I know you well and can read more that support in your relationship with Ben,” he laughs, “have you found a new playmate?”

“Cut it Wilson. Ben is a very private person and you going on like that may spook him into something he isn’t ready for.”

Before Wilson’s questions became even more personal Ben returned from storing their supplies;

“I’ll allow you both a little privacy, so I’m off for a swim.”

“Could you do a favour?” Tate expresses.

“I could.”

“Take the line and see what you can catch, with an extra mouth our supplies won’t go far.”

“If you notice brother, I’m carrying my own supplies.”

Ben appears troubled, “you know I don’t know how to catch fish.”

“You have seen me do it enough times, have a go, all you do is bait the hook, toss in the line and if you feel something pulling on the line, a quick tug and bring it to the bank.”

“As simple as that?”

“Yes, as simple as that.”

With Ben gone Wilson returns to his supposition about Tate and Ben’s association, expressing in his usual crude and more than direct way, “how long have the two of you been at it?”

“It isn’t like that Wilson.”

“How else would you describe it?”

Tate’s tone lowers, “are you jealous brother?” he suggests in regard to their past and clumsy combination.

“No!” Wilson snaps.

“Then what is it with you that you always have to lower everything to crudity.”

Wilson smiles and a brow lifts, “ah you have taken your relationship to a higher level, with me believing you are one for the girls.”

“I was.”

“That what changed you?”

“I suppose nothing has changed me, possibly I always knew the truth but didn’t wish to admit it.”

“Your mate Tolga suggested it enough; I’m surprised you didn’t take him up on his offers.”

“Did you?” Tate asks.

“It was you he fancied.”

“Sometimes it take the right person to bring about truth,” a slight pause, a smile as Tate’s head drops from upright to a quizzical slant, “what about you brother, you didn’t mind what we got up to and if I’m remembering correctly, it was always at your suggestion.”

“It didn’t take much for you to join in. Besides I realised long ago which side of the bed I slept on. Only unlike you I’ve never met the right fellow.”

“Can we leave the conversation where it is, or you will scare Ben off; he is already considering moving on.”

“That’s a fair enough request although I must ask where will your liaison end as Ben can’t be seen in public.”

“I don’t know but somehow we will prove Ben’s innocence.”

Wilson releases a low chuckle.

“What’s that for brother?”

“You do realise.”

“Whatever I’m supposed to realise; you will have to spell it out.”

“Winnie knows.”

“Cut it Wilson, I’m not in the mood for your word games.”

“Winnie knows about us.”

“Oh!”

“Don’t concern it was Winnie who told me I was inclined but she hasn’t ever told anyone else.”

“Oh well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. There is a high probability I won’t be living back in Smithfield so whatever anyone knows or thinks is of no importance.”

Tate is standing by the boarded kitchen window and through the grime of a single remaining pane of glass in the fading light he can see Ben attempting to catch their supper.

Tate smiles.

Ben is stripped to the waist, his broad shoulders flexing as he recasts the line after a failed attempt.

He sees patience in the man standing like a marble statue as if believing even his slightest movement may scare away the fish.

Tate returns his eyes to Wilson, “Do you want to know something?” he says.

“Go on.”

“I wouldn’t admit to anyone else but I believe I am in love with Ben.”

Wilson frowns, “that will make the obvious outcome even more difficult, you must remember the stories of what happened to mother’s cousin Gladys Mortimer back in the old country.”

“That was different, Gladys was mazed.”

“Possibly so but there are similarities with you and Ben and you can be judged by association.”

Tate shrugs away his brother’s concern and returns his gaze back to Ben, there is animation as the fishing line goes taught and with an unusual amount of joy Ben brings a large fish from the water to the bank.

“Quick take a look,” Tate cries bringing Wilson to the window, “I’ll be buggered Ben actually caught a fish.”

The brothers are amused as Ben stuns the fish with a length of wood, he appears to be laughing as he rebaits the hook and recasts; he turns towards the house as if looking for admiration.

“We should go and congratulate Ben, I’ll make a woodsman out of him yet,” Tate suggests.

“That is if the hangman doesn’t get him first,” Wilson sights.

“Wilson you are a pessimist.”

“You do realise what a pessimist is?”

“I do know the word’s meaning.”

“Yes but, a pessimist is what an optimist calls a realist.”

“Huh, your favourite pastime has always been playing with words. I see the situation as it is and I’m not fooled by its gravity, so while I can I will hope if nothing else. Come on let us go see what Ben caught.”

By there arrival by the water’s edge Ben had pulled a second large fish. As it receives the mandatory stunning, Ben sees the brothers approaching, “what do you think of that?” Ben calls.

Tate approaches;

“Beginner’s luck is what I think.”

Tate perceives calmness within Ben, even childlike and for the first time Ben appears free from concern.

“As long as you don’t ask me to prepare and cook them,” Ben asserts.

“You have to learn sometime.”

“What about you Wilson?” Ben asks.

“Like Tate as we are a large family without parents; we became proficient in most things at an early age.”

“How about knitting?” Ben laughs.

“Yes, if I had to I could knit you a pullover.”

“The men in your family appear like a lot of sissies.” Ben declares then as quickly looses his jovial expression, “sorry I guess you know what’s going on between Tate and me?”

“I have guessed the situation.”

“Therefore how can I call another man a sissy?”

“A man is a man no matter where he puts it,” Wilson says.

Tate cuts in, “watch him Ben, sometimes I think Wilson swallowed a book of words.”

“Yes I have noticed.”

After the evening meal Ben departs company allowing the brothers time for reflection on past deeds and adventures of which there were many, with Wilson being the custodian of most, then during a quiet moment Tate became pensive.

“What is it Tate?” Wilson asked.

“Nothing.”

“You appear as if someone has walked over your grave.”

“I was recalling something that happened a little while back.”

“Is it to do with Ben?”

Tate lifts from his rest and goes to the window.

Outside it is dark.

There is moonlight on the water but the distant trees are black on black.

Tate eyes are drawn towards Ben’s favourite resting place by the water, the spot where on their first night Ben had made his bed. So much had changed since that night that even Tate would not have envisaged.

Tate spies Ben further along the river, he is seated; his image dark against the silvery water, ‘there you are,’ Tate is at ease and returns to the conversation with Wilson.