Published: 1 Oct 2020

As was its custom the Mareeba Forsayth train arrived at its destination late and there at the siding was Hal Tucker and his old Bedford. Lewis collected his bag and approached Hal as he unloaded the mail and supplies from the goods van, while complaining loudly on how railway porters treated the perishable goods in their care. The porter ignored his complaint and left him to his work.

“G’day Hal, would you like a hand?” Lewis greeted giving the old man a start.

“Well, well if it isn’t young Lewis Smith are you coming or going?”

“Coming Hal any room for a lift home?”

“Sure, are you off the train?”

“Yes have been visiting my mother at the Mareeba hospital.”

“Winnie, how is she?”

“On the mend now,”

“Fine women your mother, I knew her from when she worked on Gilbert Downs, come to think of it, you visited one Christmas, then you were but a cheeky young tacker.”

“Actually I was there for two holidays and if I was a pest then I apologise,”

“Na, you were fine, I suppose you never thought you would end back there.”

“True and quite the opposite,”

“Jack’s a good boss and has a love for the country.” Hal confirmed while reading the address on one of the boxes, “Echo Springs,” he quietly said then looked through the contents and giving a smile, “Bert’s on the cheap scotch again.”

“Agreed on both accounts but I don’t mind working back there, where’s your new truck Hal?” Lewis asked seeing he was still driving the old Bedford.

“Still on the bloody Jap ship,” Hal cursed, hobbling to the rear of the truck with a large box of apples. “For Clancy,” he declared while sliding the box of fruit along the uneven floor boards of the truck’s tray. “The delay has made me late, we will have to stay overnight at Echo Springs is that okay with you?”

“Whatever Hal, why so?”

“If not we will reach Gilbert Downs around midnight and I want a word with Jack but it’s not important enough to drag him from his bed.

Once loaded Hal enticed Lewis into the Forsayth hotel for a quick drink before heading out for their first stop being Echo Springs, which turned into three or more and a couple of scotches for the dusty road and an extended argument with the publican about horse racing, which at mid argument transferred to their knowledge of horse flesh, neither, in Lewis’ belief, knew what they were talking about but he thought better than argue the point, instead nodded in agreement when either attempted to include him in the debate.

Now half tanked with darkness enveloping their travel, Hal had one more for the road and staggered out of the pub. He threw Lewis the keys to the truck.

“You drive young fellow.” Lewis had only two beers and was fine but he had never driven Hal’s truck before and worried about its idiosyncratic behaviour.

“I can’t drive the pile of shit!” Lewis complained.

“Don’t worry as long as you double the clutch you will be fine and she will sing pretty for you.” Hal assured while heaving himself and his bad leg into the passenger seat.

Lewis threw the truck into gear and kangarooed the vehicle away from the hotel while under the watchful gaze of Constable Ron Douglas, who pulled them over before they departed town. Douglas had been in the bar and keeping a hopeful eye on Hal, it would bring him much pleasure to book the mailman for drink driving and at last had found his chance.

Approaching the old truck the police constable expected to encounter Tucker behind the wheel. Douglas was a mean vindictive young man who thought of nothing better than catching local dignitaries and icons driving while under the influence and believed he was about to issue his first ticket for the week and against one he disliked if for no other reason than Hal’s popularity.

“Right.” Douglas barked as he approached the doorless driver’s side of the cabin, shining his strong torch light into Lewis’ eyes, then seeing a different driver his attitude was replaced with surprise.

“Who are you?”

“Lewis Smith from Gilbert Downs,” Lewis answered softly.

“I remember you, the sergeant had you marked some time back for riding that unregistered motorbike.”

“The bike isn’t running at the moment.” Lewis answered.

“Have you been drinking son?” Douglas address Lewis as son even

if possible Lewis was a tad his senior in years.

“I had two and am only driving because Hal has had a skin full.” Lewis nodded to the now sleeping mailman.

“Righto out you get,” the policeman barked. Lewis obeyed and stood next to the truck waiting for further directions. Douglas marked a line in the dust within the beam of the truck’s headlights with the toe of his boot and demanded Lewis walk its length. Lewis folded his arms, smiled and did so; his walk was even straighter than the line Douglas had marked. He returned to the truck, arms still defiantly crossed.

“Licence,” the constable barked.

“You saw it on race day.”

“I said licence.” Douglas held the torch light into Lewis’ face. Lewis shielded his eyes while reaching for his wallet, “lower the light if you don’t mind.”

The constable did so as Lewis produced his licence. Again the policeman read its details.

“I’m still the same Lewis Smith I assure you Ron, a little older but I guarantee the same person.”

Douglas passed back the licence and gave a discrediting grunt.

“Will that be all, constable?” Lewis asked somewhat sarcastically.

Douglas sniffed Lewis’ breath and was disappointedly satisfied.

“Alright then bugger off,” Douglas once more barked as Hal awoke demanding to know what had happened.

“Do you want me to go?” Lewis sarcastically asked against the policeman’s attitude.

“Bugger off before I do you for driving an unroadworthy vehicle.

“Sorry Ron,” Lewis on purpose made familiar with Douglas’ name, “but it has just passed its yearly inspection, I can show you the certificate if you like,” Lewis argued without knowing the truth of the matter but Douglas accepted so and after once again shining the strong beam of his torch into Lewis’ face he departed.

“You didn’t warn me about Douglas,” Lewis complained as he once again threw the truck into gear but this time found the double clutch.

“That young bugger he has been watching me all afternoon. What was that about the roadworthy certificate?” Hal asked.

“It worked didn’t it?”

“What would you have done if he asked for it?”

“That I don’t know.”

“Clever kid but if he pushed the issue then I would really be in the shit.” Hal mumbled and once more fell asleep.

Echo Springs was a good hour from Forsayth along an unsurfaced road and somewhat off the Georgetown track. Although Lewis had never been there he soon found the turn and with Hal still sleeping arrived without incident.

Bert Parkinson the owner of Echo Springs had heard the old truck from some distance as it snaked along the winding dusty road towards the homestead and was waiting on its arrival. Being somewhat used to the motor’s sound as it echoed along the road, this night it sounded different, without the certainty of Hal’s driving experience. Approaching the cabin Bert realised it wasn’t Hal behind the wheel and with the reflected glare from the headlights recognised the driver.

“Hello there young fellow, it’s Lewis from Gilbert Downs isn’t it?”

“Yes Mr. Parkinson,” Lewis turned off the motor and jumped down from the cabin.

“What’s wrong with Hal?” Bert Parkinson asked, craning his neck around the seat to where Hal slept.

“Pissed out of his mind,” Lewis declared.

“Again? It’s becoming a habit, one of these days that young constable will pinch him and heaven knows he has tried often enough.”

“Almost did tonight but Hal was smart enough to throw me the keys.”

“You’re a brave man driving this heap of shit and at night.” Parkinson declared shaking his head in disbelief, “where’s his new truck?”

“In Hal’s words it is still on the bloody Jap boat.”

Bert Parkinson roared with laughter while rummaging through the back of the Bedford for his supplies, which Lewis helped carry into the house.

“I should think you won’t be travelling on tonight?”

“No the train was delayed and Hal said he would wait for morning as he wants a word with Mr. Thompson.”

“There’s a bunk on the verandah is that okay for you?” Parkinson asked. Lewis agreed then returned to check on Hal Tucker, who remained asleep and snoring loudly. Lewis doused the truck’s lights and returned to the house.

“Do you think I should wake him Mr. Parkinson?”

“No let his sleep it off. It won’t be the first time he’s slept in the truck.

Do you want something to eat?” Parkinson asked and handed Lewis a beer. It was cold and in a glass, “that will take the dust outa’ ya’ throat.”

“Anything Mr. Parkinson, I haven’t eaten all day.”

Parkinson poured a second beer and completely forgot his offer on food, while Lewis was too polite to remind him.

Bert Parkinson was unmarried but it was said he spent a little more time with the gins than polite society accepted. This night he appeared to be alone and in need of conversation.

“You know son, my granddaddy settled here back in the eighteen-eighties. It was blackfella’ country then and he squatted on the land under the 1840 Pastoral Lease Act from the old country. Mind you he was a right bastard, I knew him as a child and cruel. Then after he passed on my old man fort the government over ownership, even now it’s somewhat vague.”

“Why vague?” Lewis asked.

“We don’t actually own the land it is more leased hold with a hundred year right and option to renew but since last century all that as I said became vague although most believe they now own the land.”

“Can you sell it?”

“Another vague point, many do and nothing is ever said but if offered I wouldn’t be buying any.”

Lewis finished his beer.

“Would you like another?”

“No thank you, why so vague Mr Parkinson.”

“I don’t hold title, only a loose agreement with the government and with talk of native title, I could lose the lot.”

“If it is considered yours what claim do the natives have?”

“Yet another vague point, the original leasehold was supposed to give the white men rights to grazing while the natives held traditional use but that was soon forgotten and most of the blacks were booted off.”

“I never realised, what about Gilbert Downs?”

“No it’s safe enough; the big boys make sure of that.”

“How so?”

“Gilbert Downs is part of an empire carved out by the Australian Stock Breeder’s and they are big enough to have a permanent hand in official pockets. Sure you wouldn’t like another?” Lewis shook his head as Bert emptied the bottle into his glass, “waste not,”

“Where was your grandfather from?” Lewis asked.

“The old country, tried gold fossicking in Victoria then with a pocket full of the yellow stuff bought cattle and moved up here.”

“That was a long haul?”

“No he bought the cattle locally and when old Vince Pearce was speared by the local blacks, he took over Echo Springs.”

“Did you’re grandfather have problems with the natives?”

Bert laughed; “not after he shot most of them.” Bert paused giving an expression of remorse towards the old man’s treatment of the natives.

“Sad thing about old Jimmy,” Parkinson declared as he gestured his glass towards Lewis.

“Yes I liked the old fellow.” Lewis declared.

“Most did but he did carry on about those ghosts of his.”

“He did somewhat and he told me someone was looking for me and I should go find out who.” Lewis laughed and continued, “oddly enough I have had two different accounts of someone trying to find me and more oddly he told me that he would be dead before Christmas and he was.”

Parkinson nodded his agreement, “he once told me that I wasn’t well and should see a doctor. I didn’t take any notice of him and a week later, I collapsed with a kidney infection.” Parkinson jumped from his seat. “Food, I almost forgot, I have some cold roast beef in the icebox, how about fresh bread and beef and chutney sandwich?”

“Sounds fine Mr. Parkinson.”

“Mind you I don’t do the cooking, Iris does that.”

“Iris?” Lewis questioned.

“My housemaid, her name is unpronounceable so I call her Iris after my mother. As for cooking she uses the oven as if it was some native camp fire, I wouldn’t be surprised to find the haunch of a wallaby in there one of these days.”

Lewis placed his empty glass down and looked about.

“She’s not here tonight, gone to help deliver a kid for her sister.”

Lewis was somewhat tired from the long train trip and the concentration needed to drive Hal’s dilapidated vehicle but Parkinson hadn’t enjoyed male company since the previous race meeting in Georgetown and held him until well after midnight. Even yawning didn’t transmit Lewis’ need to sleep.

Eventually Parkinson took the hint and showed Lewis to his bed.

“Hey young fellow if you ever want a change of job there’s always work over here, I could do with a good honest cattleman,” Parkinson suggested.

“Thank you I will keep that in mind.” Lewis answered without speaking of his intention to leave the gulf altogether.

With the sun Hal was awake and knocking on the house door demanding departure.

“Hurry it up, have to get to Clancy.”

“What about some breakfast?” Bert Parkinson asked as the scent of frying bacon reached Hal’s nose.

“Suppose we could stay for a bite.” He agreed and to Lewis’ relief as he had had very little the previous day, only the sandwich Bert supplied while the beef was so tough he dislodged it from the thick slices of bread and when Bert was out of the room, gave it to his dog.

“Hey didn’t you notice that the motorbike parts were with the supplies?” Bob asked Lewis at lunch. Lewis had been too tired from his travelling and late night conversation with Bert Parkinson to think about what was in the boxes he had helped to unload.

“We can finish the bike now.” Bob had all but taken over the restoration and although at first he didn’t seem interested, as time progressed it became his project while Lewis was quite pleased to share it.

“I got you something.” Lewis said and offered up a brown paper bag.

“What’s this?” Bob asked opening the bag.

“I know you like scotch and I got you a bottle of Glenfiddich while in Mareeba. So don’t drink it all at once okay?”

Bob smiled and accepted the bottle.

“That’s good sipping scotch and expensive so don’t glug it like cold tea.” Lewis continued knowing full well Bob wouldn’t take notice of his suggestion.

It was the final week of the school holidays and time for Wayne to return to Herberton. Donald had left for the coast some day’s earlier, leaving Wayne lacking a play pal and now he had the added stress of having to return to the hostel. This was something Lewis well understood and felt Wayne’s heartache tug at his own heart strings, so he treated the lad with as much kindness as possible and as Lewis hadn’t disclosed discovering Wayne and Donald at it in the scrub, Wayne developed the wrong signals, putting two and two together and in his mind coming up with Lewis as an available replacement for Donald.

As for Donald, after the encounter he kept his distance from Lewis and if their paths were likely to cross, Donald would about face and go elsewhere. Yet it was obvious the lad had taking Lewis’ advice and was often seen with Wayne in the vicinity of the Gilbert sands but if they were still at it, as if to speak, was purely conjectural.

The day before Lewis was to drive Wayne to Forsayth he was showering after work and noticed movement at the base of the shower block wall. The wall at one end of the block and facing the showers wasn’t full with a gap at the top and bottom to allow air passage to take away the damp. Looking down at the gap Lewis noticed a face peering up at him. It was Wayne and bearing the widest grin possible.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Lewis shouted at the disappearing face as Wayne laughed and ran off. Some time later Lewis caught up with Wayne and rebuked him.

“What were you playing at?” Lewis asked.

“It was only a joke.”

“What was the funny side?” Lewis demanded.

“Suppose there wasn’t any, sorry.” Wayne answered and sounded genuine in his apology.

“If you want to see my dick you can just ask.” Lewis added bringing surprise to Wayne’s face but left him without words.

“I wouldn’t show you and I’m warning you, if you try that trick on the wrong bloke you could get yourself into a lot of trouble,” Lewis warned.

“Sorry.” Wayne once more apologised.

“As I said before, what you get up to with your mates is your own affair but don’t believe you can carry on like that with everyone you meet.”

With his head cast down and the humour gone from his face, Wayne issued a third apology.

“We’ll leave it at that okay and don’t forget I’m taking you to the station tomorrow, so spend a little time with your mother.”

“I don’t want to go,” Tears commenced to form in Wayne’s eyes,

“I know you don’t mate but in a couple of years you will be free to do whatever you wish. Believe me it will pass quickly and possibly you will look back on your school days with a little more appreciation, possibly even fondness.”

“Did you?” Wayne asked.

“Yes in retrospect I suppose I did appreciate my time at the hostel; or part thereof.”

Lewis well understood Wayne’s distress and with a firm hand on the lad’s shoulder attempted reassurance, “if you ever need to talk to anyone, you can talk to me okay.”

Wayne nodded but didn’t answer.

“That includes your sexuality, Understand?”

“I’m no poof,” Wayne protested.

“No one is accusing you of being anything.”

“Did you do that at the hostel?” Wayne asked.

“It isn’t about me Wayne but remember you can trust me.”

Wayne’s final night at Gilbert Downs hung as heavy on Lewis as it did on Wayne, wishing he wasn’t the one who had to drive him to Forsayth and his rail connection. It was dark when he went to the bunkhouse where he found Bob Kelly reading a western novel by carbide light.

“Evening Bob,” Lewis greeted resting his hands on the doorframe as he leant into the hiss of the light. Bob placed his book down and invited Lewis into his room.

“Good Book?”

“Something to do, reading puts me to sleep. You appear troubled,” Bob suggested and offered Lewis a scotch.

“Have you opened the bottle?” Lewis asked.

“Not yet but if you want.”

“No thanks, did you fit the seat and tank to the bike?” he asked of Bob.

“You didn’t come across here to ask that, what’s up?”

“Nothing really, I have to drive young Wayne to the station tomorrow and he’s feeling bad about the leaving.”

“Would you like me to take him instead?”

“It’s okay but I remember being in that position myself.” Lewis sighed, “in fact it was also to the hostel.” Lewis declared.

“You are a real softie mate.”

“Umm.”

“Spooky – both you and Wayne going to the same poofter school?” Bob grinned.

“Do you really think I’m a poofter Bob?” Lewis asked showing a measure of annoyance.

“I don’t really care,” Bob answered and sounded as if he didn’t.

“Then why do you keep bringing it up?”

“Dunno really. Something to say I suppose.”

“I could ask the same of you Bob.” Lewis retorted.

“You could,” Bob paused, “but I like girls.”

“And so do I,” Lewis concluded and changed the subject. To Lewis’ surprise Bob became quite talkative and for the remainder of the conversation didn’t mention poofs or sex again.

“Well I suppose I should be on my way,” Lewis finally said with a long exhaling of air.

“You could stay but I don’t have a spare bed,” Bob added.

“I could use the other bunkhouse but I like my own bed.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Bob stood and walked with Lewis as far as the white picket fence that divided the homestead yard from the road and the flat.

“If driving Wayne is worrying you, as I said I’ll take him.” Bob once again offered.

“He’s a little fragile at present and your sense of humour may be a little off-putting.”

“I only say it as I see it,” Bob protested.

“I may have something to tell you in a couple of weeks,” Lewis declared as he departed.

“What’s that, are you pregnant.”

“Funny boy, I’ll let you know.”

“Goodnight,” Bob called through the darkness as Lewis crossed the flat, turning Lewis waved an arm without reply. Then silence as he walked across the flat. A slight moonlight guided his way but not a night call; it was as if the world had gone mute. Halfway across the flat he paused and looked back towards the bunkhouse where Bob’s light burnt dull.

Some unknown force sat Lewis in the dust while his eyes remained fixed on Bob’s room as he once again brought to mind his leaving. He would miss Bob dearly, he remembered Bob’s question on making decisions and realised he was making a life changing decision and could not understand why. At first it had been a spark, a simple suggestion now it was tugging him towards an unknown destination as if the future had reached through the barrier to the present and took hold of him. Bob’s light went out yet Lewis remained in thought.

Reflection, Lewis thought of Jimmy and his prediction and Jimmy’s analysis of Lewis riding the sad horses, also of the red head ghost who was looking for him. ‘Funny,’ Lewis thought, ‘the sadness is now in leaving, Jimmy never predicted that.’ There was also consideration towards his future as for work. Lewis thought of Jack and Newell, would he again become a shop assistant, he thought not and what of Horse. An hour of thinking past before Lewis lifted from the dust and continued to his bed. It would all seem clearer in the morning as the night brought more than darkness to the mind.

It was early afternoon before Lewis brought the land-rover around to the store. Wayne’s train connection wasn’t until early the following morning and he would need to book into the Forsayth hotel for that night. As for Lewis he had asked and received permission from Jack to stay overnight at Georgetown as he wanted to attend to some business, so after dropping Wayne at Forsayth he would return there and take a room. He thought of staying with Wayne but realised doing so would only make leaving more difficult for the lad.

On reaching the store Lewis found Wayne already waiting on the verandah with Ivy some distance away. She had said her farewell but could not bear to see him in such a sorry state and as Lewis collected Wayne’s case she returned to the kitchen, obviously somewhat distressed. Wayne turned to his mother but she had gone. He wanted to run after her, there was much he wished to say and as he turned to do so Lewis took his shoulder and spoke.

“Come on mate you have to leave sooner or latter so don’t make it worse for your mother.”

“She didn’t even wait.” He was now quietly crying as he obeyed Lewis, slowly placing himself onto the passenger seat, while all the while looking back in the direction of the kitchen.

“It’s hard for her as well,” Lewis assured then without further ceremony commenced the journey.

“She didn’t even wave goodbye.”

“She wouldn’t wish for you to see her crying.”

Lewis was immediately transferred to his first day at the hostel. Winnie had taken him from Mareeba to Herberton by train and although he knew there would be parting he had no idea what the hostel was to be.

As they sat together in the hostel office, with the manager’s wife assuring Lewis would be well cared for, explaining there would be many holidays in the future when Lewis could return home, wherever home may be. Besides think of all the new friends he was about to discover.

Once all had been explained Winnie whispered quietly to the woman, who nodded and with a light kiss to Lewis’ forehead Winnie departed the room. Nothing more was spoken between mother and son and his internment began. He was alone amongst strangers.

“I didn’t get a ride on the motorbike.” Wayne declared as if the fact would delay his departure.

“Next time maybe,”

“Or Horse’s foals when they are bigger.”

Lewis knew there would not be a next time. Ivy was thinking of returning to the Tablelands to be closer to her son and as for Lewis he also had intentions. Wayne turned in his seat and watched the windmill grow smaller in prospective until the tree line hid it completely. His mind was on the next holiday and imagined the windmill coming towards him and not away but unknown to Wayne; he would never return to Gilbert Downs or ride the motorbike.

They were well past the creek where Lewis lost the bike in the flood before Wayne spoke and close to the Cumberland before he had anything positive to share. He spoke of his next holiday and how he could ride one of Horses foals and how Lewis could teach him to ride the motorbike.

“You know I am still going to be a station cowboy.” Wayne declared emphatically from out of a moment’s silence. Lewis laughed, “then all I can add is you must be a sucker for punishment.”

With the small town of Forsayth ahead Wayne once again became quiet, as would a man walking to the gallows and sighting the rope.

“Almost there,” Lewis softly said but his words fell on unwilling ears. Wayne sunk deeper into the seat.

Lewis parked the land-rover outside the hotel and glanced across at the empty rail yard. The up train had not yet arrived for its morning run.

“Come on mate lets book you a room for the night,” he looked across to Wayne who appeared to be glued to his seat, Lewis smiled remembering what had gone through his thoughts so long ago.

What if there aren’t any rooms?

What if the train breaks down?

What if there was a flash flood that took out the Einasleigh rail bridge?

What if? There could be as many what ifs as one would wish for but eventually it happens and life moves on. Lewis knew that only too well as he had used those same what ifs over Will’s grave but they were only words which progress dissolved.

“Come on lets get you booked in.”

“Lewis,” Wayne spoke.

“Yes?”

“Aw it doesn’t matter.”

Wayne collected his case from the back of the vehicle and as in a dream followed Lewis into the bar.

“Hello Gladys, I have a customer for you.”

The barmaid smiled at Wayne, declaring he was a little young for drinking. The humour fell flat on Wayne’s mood.

“He’s for the tomorrow’s train and needs a room.”

“Sure we have plenty.” There went the first what if.

“Pull you one?” Gladys asked collecting a clean cold glass and holding it under the beer tap.

“Na, I can’t stay.”

Lewis collected the key and led Wayne to his room. Once inside he sighed and turned to the lad. “Well this is it, now it’s my turn to say goodbye.” He retrieved an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Wayne. “As I said if you ever want to contact me and for some reason I’m not at the station you can find me through this address – it’s my mother’s.” He then ruffled Wayne’s hair and with a see you mate, he turned to leave.

Before Lewis reached the door the lad called him back, “are you leaving Gilbert Downs?”

“I didn’t say that,”

“I don’t want you to; I have to ride Horse’s foal and the motor bike.”

“And you will.” It was a lie but one necessary for the moment. Lewis couldn’t allow the lad to depart without at least one dream to cling to and soon Wayne would be back amongst his mates bragging about life on a cattle station and forgetting such promises.

“See you, and remember you can contact me any time.”

The door close.

Lewis was gone and Wayne was along.

Inside his room Wayne stood as one in shock. He saw the bed, the small table, the empty wardrobe its door ajar, the chair and felt as cold as they represented. Throwing himself across the bed he began to sob as his stomach twisted in sorrowful knots. He thought of the morning’s train and its destination, he thought of his mother and the six weeks he had spent on Gilbert Downs. He thought of the agates he had gathered from the river, now rolling free in his case. He thought of his future and became as empty as that thought. He thought of Lewis’ promise and wished now to have that conversation but most of all he realised there wasn’t any benefit in thinking further, what will out would no matter what. Lewis was right in telling that.

Was it relief Lewis felt while seated at the Georgetown hotel bar. He couldn’t define but he was glad the deliverance of Wayne to Forsayth was done, although it did leave a little sadness but now he had to look towards his own future.

“Not much of a crowd.” He smiled at Mary Cunningham, who was the hotels relief barmaid. She poured him a refill.

“No there’s a race meeting on back at Einasleigh,” she advised and delivered the beer, “you still over at Gilbert Downs?” She asked making conversation while her eyes were on the door behind Lewis.

“For the moment,”

“You seem a little down?”

Lewis took a deep breath and forced a smile, “no everything is fine, just a few things on my mind but they will work out.”

“Here’s a new face,” the barmaid spoke, “one of those southern tourists by the look of him.”

Lewis turned and felt his entire body dissolve while his face prickled and his hair stood.

“Will!” he gasped while his body commenced to quiver, his voice croaked as his knees buckled almost delivering him to the bar floor. Righting, he looked upon the tall honey-red hair of the man whose deep blue eyes twinkled with success and was standing but four paces before him.

“Lewis Smith I’ve found you at last.” The stranger spoke. His voice was deep and calming and delivered with relief and affection. His face was that of Will. His smile was Will’s. His dress. His manner his very build. That wonderful honey blond locks with its curling at the ends and developed chest and shoulders, declaring the strength of Will. It was Will returned from the grave.

“Who,,,, what,,,” Lewis couldn’t find the words. He wanted to fling his arms around the stranger’s neck and deliver all the frustrations that had welled up inside of him since Will’s death. This aberration was Will. It had to be, every hair, every muscle every part of him was Will but disbelief created confusion.

The stranger took control of Lewis and guided him away from the bar to a quiet corner. “I’ll explain,” he quickly said.

“But how?”

“I’m Calvin, Will’s twin brother.”

“I didn’t know Will had a twin only a younger and older brother.” Lewis said, his voice still croaked and confused.

“I am the younger brother but only by a few minutes.” Calvin laughed, “It was Will’s joke.”

“Shit you are the very image of Will.”

“Identical twins and not even our mother could tell us a part, so who knows if originally I was William and he Calvin or reverse.”

“How come I had never met you?”

“Actually you have on a number of occasions but you probably thought I was Will.”

“That could have proven embarrassing,” Lewis declared still smarting from his fright.

“No, that didn’t happen yet we were both attracted to men and although I met your first, Will warned me off.”

“I don’t believe this, I must be dreaming.” Lewis said in a daze.

“Can we go somewhere more private to talk?” Calvin asked.

“Sure I’ve booked a room for the night.”

Once inside Lewis’ room the full story evolved.

“How did you find me?”

“With difficulty I have been looking for you off and on for over twelve months now but after you left Mareeba I couldn’t find anyone who knew where you were, I couldn’t even find your mother as she had also left town.” Calvin paused and smiled. “I have been up this way before as someone said you were around Forsayth but no one there had heard of you. I did leave a message on the notice board at the Forsayth pub.”

“Then why try Georgetown?” Lewis asked.

“No accident a couple of weeks ago I happened to be visiting a friend in the Mareeba hospital and chanced upon your mother as she was leaving. She told me where you were.” Calvin lay back across the bed; his tight jeans hugged his body like a second skin, displaying everything he owned. He continued, “I have just returned from your station, they told me you would be staying at this hotel tonight.”

Lewis shook his head in disbelief, the questions were mounting by the instant and he didn’t know where to start.

“But why look for me?”

“Ah that is a fair question. I hope I don’t embarrass you but I have always liked you, a little more than like but didn’t realise you were available until Will stepped in. Not only that but after Will’s accident he was taken to the Cairns Hospital, where I was working at the time as an orderly and he lived long enough for me to talk to him. Will made me promise to look after you.”

“Where are you living? Mareeba?”

“No I actually live in Melbourne an Aunt passed away and I was always her favourite, oddly she was the only one who could pick us apart and never got it wrong, so I inherited her house and enough money not to work again but have been using Mareeba as a base while looking for you.”

“Well I don’t know what to say.”

“What I would like you to say is that you will come back to Melbourne with me and let me do Will’s bidding.”

“I’ll say one thing you are straight to the point.”

“Have to be,”

“Will was also,” Lewis said.

“I did say we were identical,” Calvin answered.

There was too much information swirling around in Lewis’ mind for him to agree to anything. All he could do was shake his head in disbelief.

“I am about to finish up at the station and return to the Tablelands anyway.” Lewis admitted.

“Then come back to Melbourne with me.”

“Calvin I will need time to take all this in, I feel as I have been hit with a sledge hammer at the moment,” he chuckled. “One thing is for sure I could never say I didn’t fancy you without saying I didn’t fancy Will and that’s a fact.”

“That’s a start,” Calvin agreed.

“Have you eaten?” Lewis asked. Calvin said he hadn’t so they advanced to the hotel’s small dining area, where the conversation continued with a multitude of questions from Lewis. At meal’s end Lewis suggested Calvin stay the night instead of heading back to Mareeba as he had intended. They also decided Calvin would wait in Mareeba until Lewis could finish up at Gilbert Downs, after which Lewis would meet him there and work out their emotional status.

“Do you want me to book you a separate room?” Lewis asked as the retired from the dining room.

“Not necessary, I’m sure we can manage the double in your room.” Strangely Calvin’s seemed to have no qualms about sharing the bed with Lewis, while Lewis found the idea somewhat incongruous thinking it would be like sleeping with Will’s ghost.

“I can’t get over how much like Will you are, you not only look like him but you have the same mannerisms.” Lewis commented as they readied for bed. Lewis gave a cheeky smile and a cough.

“What?”

“I was just wondering if you are the same down there,” Lewis nodded to the lump in Calvin’s jeans.

“Only one way to find out.” Calvin declared.

“I’m a little rusty in that field,” Lewis admitted.

“Tell me about it, Mareeba isn’t exactly overrun with chance, as for mannerisms, Will and I would play at being each other when we were young and I guess that is how we became so similar in mannerisms as well as looking alike we had most fooled. As I said earlier, leading up to our conscious state our parents had problems so in reality I could be William.

A spark of memory, Lewis was on the bank of the Barron River under the Cairn’s road bridge with Will. The conversation was on Will’s family and brothers. Lewis had enquired about Will’s younger brother and Will had laughed. What’s the secret Lewis asked. If I was to tell you, possibly it would change everything, Will had answered. Lewis related the incident to Calvin.

“Yes Will did tell me about your little meetings, he thought it cute but always wished to develop your relationship further.”

“What do you think Will meant by telling me about you could change everything?”

“I guess it would be strange for you having identical brothers interested in you.”

“You know Calvin an old Aboriginal man had related your existence on a number of occasions. He would tell me of a ghost with red hair who was looking for me and when I was found I should give up the bush and go back where I belong.”

“Spooky, I’d like to meet this intelligent man,” Calvin answered.

“Sorry he also predicted his own death of natural causes; he’s buried here in Georgetown.”

“Will you miss station life?” Calvin hopefully asked.

“I will and have made good friends but my leaving has been decided for some time now.”

“Will never saw you as a country boy, even with your stories of having horses and your early school days when you rode to school.”

“Many don’t but it is part of me and a part I will always cherish, you know the adage, you can take the boy out of the country but never the country out of the boy.”

“At least I hope you give me the opportunity to try.” Calvin suggested.

That night Lewis didn’t get to discover if Calvin equalled Will in every way, deciding such actions should be left until he had become accustomed to what he had been introduced to, if at all.

With the morning he was still enveloped in Calvin’s very existence and lacking in belief, hardly sleeping at all while his thinking swung from the past to the present. One moment it was Will before him, then Will become Calvin followed by more disbelief. After breakfast he shook his newly found friend by the hand and promised he would return to Mareeba as soon as possible.

“You will keep in touch.” Calvin but demanded as he readied to depart.

“I promise but I can’t simply pack up and leave, there are many loose ends to attend to.”

“Then I’ll wait in Mareeba, at present I’m staying at the Dunlop hotel but if you decide, no when you decide, I’ll do something about renting a house.”

“Playing house,” Lewis laughed.

“What?”

“Playing house that is what we called it when Will and I looked after a mate’s house while he was away.”

“I would like that – again you promise?” If nothing Calvin was persistent and having spent so much effort finding Lewis he wasn’t going to lose him again.

“I do, I’ll send a telegram to the Dunlop when I’ve arranged my departure.”

Lewis stood watching as Calvin took the road back to Mareeba and disappeared over the Etheridge River Bridge, becoming but a dot along the Gulf Development Road. He was gone but not for long. Lewis felt something kindling within and believed Will would forgive him for such feelings but still as he travelled back to Gilbert Downs he tried to wake from his dreaming.

But it all was true.

Gary’s stories are all about what life in Australia was like for a homosexual man (mostly, before we used the term, “gay”). Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net

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