A sequel to ‘At the Turning’

Published: 1 Nov 2018

Wayne had slept past his usual time and growled when breakfast was offered then apologised while pulling the sheet over his head away from the morning’s sun. He was still in his bed when Alison Peterson sounded her horn several times to announce the arrival of the mail.

“She’s early,” he called through his open bedroom door, bringing Ralph into view.

“Are you feeling alright?” Ralph appeared concerned as Wayne was usually up and about at that time in the morning.

“Yea, I got to bed late.”

“Out on the town.”

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“I’ll go and collect the bills.”

“We should all use owls it would be quieter than the bloody woman’s car horn.”

“Owls?” Ralph answered.

“Yea Harry Potter and all that stuff.”

“I’ve never seen any of the films.”

“What, best adult fantasy about.”

“I haven’t seen a film since I was twelve.” Ralph admitted.

“None whatsoever?”

“Not to go to an actual picture theatre that is.”

“Come to think of it, I reckon I haven’t been since about then as well but I saw them on DVD.” Wayne admitted.

“You may not believe it Wayne but I haven’t even seen a DVD, television yes but not for a while and Grace didn’t believe in television.”

“We will have to do something about that.” Wayne suggested.

“Not on my account.”

Wayne climbed out of bed and was under the shower as Ralph returned with two envelopes, one correctly described being electricity and a large envelope from a horse stud somewhere in the hills west of Tully, with the very American title of Nebraska Ranch.

“There is some advertising from a horse stud in the mail.” Ralph called through the open bathroom door.

“Yes I asked it to be sent, open it.” Wayne’s head appeared around the shower curtain, while his back and buttocks were reflected in the full length bathroom mirror.

“I can see your arse.” Ralph smiled and nodded towards the steamy mirror.

“Is it a nice arse?” Wayne asked.

“As arses go I guess – I’ll put the mail on the kitchen table for later.” As Ralph spoke a commotion was heard coming from somewhere to the front of the house sending him to investigated, returning as quickly with almost as much fuss.

“There’s a mob of blacks out at the gate.” He panted after leaping three steps at a time and arriving at the bathroom door in a bound. Wayne stood somewhat startled with his towel hanging like a shroud before him. He commenced to dry his hair.

“What do they want?”

“They want to talk to you.” Ralph informed.

“What about, I don’t know any aborigines.”

“One way to find out, they are waiting down at the gateway.”

“How many?” Wayne finish drying then quickly dressed.

“Five, all grey headed wrinkled old blokes.” Ralph described while collecting the wet towel, “I’m about to do the washing, anything else?”

“No, I suppose I better go see what they want, you come with me eh?”

“Why do you think they are cannibals?”

“Funny boy.”

Seated astride the paling fence beside the drive, were five scruffy ancient aborigines, appearing more akin to a line of black crows waiting for the death throes of some dying animal to pick clean the carcass.

Their attire equally shabby reflected the epitome of northern station hands, with their checked shirts, all of different colour, holed in various places and moleskin trousers covering worn out Williams’ riding boots, likely hand downs or from some opportunity shop.

One by one they descended their railing seat as Wayne approached. The leader, who introduced as simply Jimmy offered his hand to Wayne, then stepped aside as he introduced the others. There was Dale Smith, Murphy – just Murphy, Sidney Smith, Dale’s brother and the youngest at sixty-seven and finally Elvis Battle shouldering a battered guitar case.

They were the Elders of the Gulngai people who now lived up at Yarrabah near Cairns and on the occasion in memory of their old people’s beliefs came down on special days to stay at their ancestor’s camp. It was also traditional to ask for permission from the present owner of Henderson Farm to stay at the site.

The land holding the ancient camp technically belonged to the Gulngai under a grant given by Lachlan himself but etiquette had been established long ago, so now they were asking Wayne for that same rite of passage.

“Of course you can use the camp it’s your land anyway.” Wayne agreed feeling somewhat a fraud to Lachlan’s memory while correcting their belief of title. “The farm doesn’t belong to me, it is Ralph’s now,” Wayne added nodding towards Ralph.

Jimmy’s gaze fell onto the face of Ralph and appeared to be searching deeply beyond the physical surface, like someone who was reading a road map. “You are Stephen.” He declared, his eyes opening wide while the others murmured in unison.

“No I’m Ralph Matthews.” Ralph protested.

“You are a Henderson, you face tells me that, as does the face of Wayne tell me he is a McBride but not from Kari.

“No I am from Lachlan’s sister’s family and Lachlan and Stephen were our great uncles.” Wayne explained.

“I knew dear Lachlan when I was a young fella’ but he was an old man then, as I am now,” Jimmy admitted. His ageing eyes dim as they were, began to cloud even further with the sadness of memory. Jimmy shook off the pending sadness and addressed Ralph as the new owner, “alright if we attend private men’s business up at the camp over the next coupla’ days?” he asked his head slightly bent reverently towards the gravel pathway.

“Of course without asking but don’t forget it is your land and you don’t need approval from anyone.” Ralph disclosed, blushing red from the embarrassment of being considered the holder of their traditions.

“Dear Lachlan gave us the land and held it in trust; we Gulngai think it best left that way; keeps the young’uns from trying to sell it for grog or smokes eh.”

As Jimmy concluded his mob commenced to walk the road to the camp. “Hey you young fellers’, if you want, come to the camp tomorrow night and we talk about the old times eh? Tonight we talk to Kari and Stephen and our old mob.” Jimmy suggested then joined the rest who had already reached the bend in the road.

“What do you think of that?” Wayne asked.

“Spooky,”

“Why is that?”

“How would they know we looked similar to our uncles?”

“Dunno I guess as Jimmy said he knew them when he was a boy.” Wayne shrugged away the question.

“Funny lot,” Ralph commented as the group disappeared past the bend, carrying their old and battered swags on their backs, while singing in their own language.

“Did you hear them say they were going to talk to Lachlan and Stephen, what do you think they meant?” Wayne asked thinking if Millie admitted talking to Lachlan and the tribal elders did also, maybe he wasn’t going crazy and imagining his meetings with his uncle, or possibly in the case of Millie and the others, it was naught but euphuism and a one directional conversation, it soon became too much to ponder over.

“Think we should go up to the camp tomorrow night?” Ralph asked.

“Maybe interesting and we should take some supplies.”

“No grog Wayne, I don’t think they appeared to be the drinking type.” Ralph warned.

“If you say so but I’ve never met an aborigine who wasn’t.”

“Do you know why they become drunk quickly?” Ralph asked, obviously eager to express his reasoning.

“No I guess they drink quickly and too much.”

“It has been said that aborigine’s like some people from Japan are missing an enzyme that breaks down alcohol.” Ralph appeared most serious with his account.

“Where do you hear these things?” Wayne was amazed with his friend’s ability to relate obscure facts about subjects that he would never consider.

“I guess I read and listen.”

“Cute.”

“There is also an alternate meaning of cute.” Ralph grinned.

“Yes I know it and you are neither ugly or – I’m not so sure about adorable, the jury is out on that one.”

“When will it decide?”

“More than likely it will stay out.”

“Oh, poor cute little me.”

The both laughed.

That afternoon as the day’s heat reached its peak Wayne retired to the verandah with a jug of iced water. He had removed his shirt and shorts and was sitting in his underwear facing the direction a breeze would come from. There wasn’t any but dozing in the heat he soon forgot about his discomfort.

“Hey your nuts are showing.” Ralph laughed as he climbed the steps. Wayne stirred from his dozing. They were and proudly dangling from the leg of his boxer shorts; he smiled sheepishly, pushing them back under cover.

“What are you doing?” he asked of Ralph, who sat in the opposing chair and helped himself to a glass of cold water.

“To hot to do anything at the moment,” Ralph answered allowing the last of the water in the glass to drizzle down his naked hairless chest.

“Too true,”

“You want to know something.” He asked of Wayne within an air of shyness.

“I guess if you say so, then I do want to know something. What’s bothering you?”

Ralph as usual wasn’t forthcoming; while his silence gave Wayne opinion possibly Ralph also talked to the dead and didn’t know how to relate.

“Is to do with Lachlan or Stephen?” Wayne asked.

“No.”

“What then?” Wayne grew impatient with his friend’s reluctance to disclose, while watching the drizzle of water descend down Ralph’s flat stomach to dissipate among the hair ascending towards his belly button. “Snail tracks,” Wayne voiced his thought loudly and nodded towards Ralph’s bare torso.

“What has snail tracks got to do with the day?” Ralph asked.

“That is what Louise called the line of hair that runs from your crotch to your belly button – snail tracks.”

Ralph bent his head towards his snail tracks and rubbed the remaining moisture into the smooth skin. He smiled at the name and liked it. Ralph looked across declaring that Wayne also had a fine track which brought Wayne to view his own and wittily curl with his fingers the already curled tufts.

“What were you going to say?” Wayne asked once more while losing interest in his pubic hair.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Are you still concerned with how long I intend to stay?”

“That maybe a small part of it but no,” Ralph added.

“As I said Ralph I can’t answer that question but I can say one thing I do like being here.”

“Actually it was more to do with the blacks up at the camp and their singing; I like it but as you brought up the question,” Ralph emphasized the word you.

“Possibly always.” Wayne laughed.

“Possibly good,” Ralph quickly answered, “do you mind if we give some stuff from the pantry if we visit the blacks?”

“I thought we could go into Biff and get a basket of goodies.” Wayne suggested.

It was true, day by day Wayne was becoming more attached to country life than he ever thought possible, even the heat and lack of air conditioning was becoming part of a normal day. There was another truth, which was to Wayne as baffling as the sightings of Lachlan and Stephen and the others. He was becoming attached to Ralph in a way he could not comprehend. Now to see him sitting quietly and vacantly gazing towards his tropical paradise gave Wayne a wave of emotion that stretched well beyond friendship. It was almost sexual but not quite erotic, almost a longing but for what he did not know.

Wayne had never had a close friend. True he had many friends even before meeting Louise but no one he could relate to, could trust with his inner self, so had nothing to gauge his feelings upon. He often attempted to open up to Louise but she had a callous heart and appeared embarrassed towards anything personal. She was an elusive butterfly, flitting from one party to another, entertainment to entertainment while attempting to mask the dips between. There were often lows as well and down she went, spiralling into a dark hole of boredom but could rise as quickly with a telephone call or the mention of a party or shopping spree.

As often depicted in movies Wayne knew men love men as friends and as on the battlefield the bonds were often so strong that mates would die for mates and once the war was over, others would remain close until their deaths. There was a battle raging in his head, a pitched full on war of emotions, thoughts, ideas and counter ideas against an enemy of tradition and upbringing, also that little voice and none had the upper hand.

Wayne cleared his mind of such thought, returning to their pending visit to the Gulngai camp suggested for the following night.

“That Gulngai lot didn’t seem like a bad bunch.” He commended, as he picked up the horse stud brochure from the verandah table. Ralph agreed.

“So you don’t mind if I buy a couple of nags and run them here on the farm?” he asked while admiring the many coloured photos of the stud’s stock, his sight following the lines of white picket fences running towards a row of stables, much out of character in the Australian tropics.

“Good idea, I loved riding and I think you would as well.” Ralph said.

So it was settled they would visit the stud and see what there was to interest them.

“Oh I forgot to tell you Stephen rang yesterday and wants me to meet some of the family.” Ralph recalled.

“Do you want to drive yourself?” Wayne asked.

“No you are invited as well and seeing our families were so close all those years ago, even closer according to what you discovered on the net, I think you should be there.” Ralph’s words were almost a command, one which Wayne believed he could not ignore; besides it would give him the opportunity to call in to see his own cousin in Mareeba and give his Mareeba agent a surprise visit regarding his properties there, as he believed the agent may be somewhat less than honest with his dealings.

“What do you think of me putting my unit in Cairns on the market?” Wayne incidentally asked bringing Ralph to wonder why he would canvass for his opinion.

“Why would you do that?”

“Cos,”

“I thought you liked the unit?”

“It’s alright but it is only somewhere to house my things, besides its time for a change and if needed I can get another at a later date, also I don’t much like the area, it’s too close to Louise and the Miller family.”

“No other reason?” Ralph asked fishing for his friend’s future intentions.

“Nope,”

“Why do you want my opinion?”

“Someone to bounce off I guess.”

“Bounce away but I don’t have an opinion, well one that would influence your decision.”

“You’re not much help.” Wayne took a deep breath and released it as he lifted from his seat, “it’s bloody hot.”

“I guess there’s a reason not to sell your unit.” Ralph offered.

“What heat, I thought you didn’t have an opinion?”

“I don’t but you have air-conditioning at the flat, besides where would you store you gear.”

“That isn’t a problem either, would you like air-conditioning installed here?” Wayne offered.

“Here on the verandah?” Ralph was teasing.

“No silly in the bedrooms and the living room.”

“Not for me but if you need it.”

“Na I like having something to complain about. Everything else is perfect – I’m going to take a cold shower.”

The moonlight guided the two to the Gulngai camp without the need of a flashlight. It was the kind of night Wayne believed Lachlan and the others would materialise, bringing him to cast his eyes about as they walked the short distance but there was no sign of their wayward uncles. ‘That is another reason for staying,’ Wayne surmised as they approached the camp, ‘I have to get to the bottom of seeing Lachlan, especially as I don’t believe in ghosts.’

“What are you thinking?” Ralph asked as they reached the scrub.

“What makes you believe I’m thinking anything?”

“You are giving off vibrations of uncertainty.” Ralph decreed.

“Vibrations, that’s a new one, even from you.”

“Actually I made that up but by your expression, there is something bothering you.”

“You can read expressions can you?”

“As a dog can, I have always been able to and am seldom wrong.” Ralph admitted.

“I didn’t know dogs were that smart.”

“They are; you watch them as they try and work things out.”

“Did you have a dog?” Wayne asked.

“No but next door had a Dalmatian, real clever mutt at that, did you ever had a dog?”

“My mother said they were smelly animals and you’re not a dog.”

“No but you do appeared to be worried about something.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I were to tell you.” Wayne made light, not wishing to disclose his sighting of their uncles, without knowing what his friend’s reaction would be.

“Why not try me?”

“Maybe one day;”

“They say tomorrow never comes.” Ralph projected.

“What has that to do with the argument?”

“It’s a good place to park a problem as it will never happen.”

“No Ralph I don’t have any real problem to park.”

Approaching the camp they could hear voices and the strumming of a guitar. By their sound they appeared to be drunk but on entering the clearing there wasn’t a beer bottle or any other kind to be seen. If anything they were intoxicated on the memories of the ancestors as they sat around the camp fire listing to Elvis Battle and his sad country music and exchanging ancient stories of long departed family and friends.

Elvis heard the two approach and placed his guitar gently down onto its case, calling them in to join at which all stood and made motion with hands for Wayne and Ralph to enter into their circle around the fire.

Doing so Ralph handed a large box of groceries to Jimmy, whose eyes brightened at the sight of the gifts. There was a jar of instant coffee, condensed milk, packets of biscuits, tinned ham and fruit and of course cigarettes and tobacco. Ralph had noticed all five smoked, mostly roll you owns as they could be rolled extremely thin to make an expensive packet of tobacco go further. ‘Racehorses,’ thought Ralph as he passed a packet of tobacco, ‘that’s what some called such a smoke, a racehorse.’

Jimmy thanked the boys and laughed. “You know Lachlan used to bring presents to the camp when he was a boy, he did so for most of his life and his old man once gave him a thrashing for doing so.” Jimmy declared, passing the box of groceries on to Dale Smith, who quickly helped himself to a packet of tailor made twenties, discarding the wrapping into the fire and lighting up before any of the other’s could protest.

“What of the rest of Lachlan’s family, and the Henderson’s?” Wayne asked taking his place by the fire beside Jimmy.

“A strange family was Lachlan’s” Jimmy declared. “There were the triplets, the two girls and the twins but it was the old man.” Jimmy paused, “I only heard of them as most had gone by the time I was around but the town talked of Jock McBride and plenty bad talk at that. He died in a cyclone you know? So did the town but Lachlan he brought it back to life,” his eyes clouded as if recollecting the demise of a close relation. “Yea big wind – Willanjee the old folk said. Willanjee got mad and blew it all away.”

Jimmy turned from the boys towards the dancing devils in their camp fire. Yes Kari’s nature was so strong the town could do nothing but survive.

“What about Stephen Henderson, Ralph’s uncle what was he like?” Wayne asked.

“Stephen was a good man and he didn’t get over Lachlan’s death, he locked himself away after Kari died and was seldom seen then died himself a short time later.”

“Were they?” Wayne commenced to ask but though better of bringing up their sexuality. As Jimmy spoke, Elvis commenced to strum on his guitar. It was slow and stirring and as he did so Jimmy’s story of past friendships became the lyrics and the lyrics were poignant, obviously brought on by the conversation about his Kari.

“You asked about Stephen, he was sometimes like Kari’s shadow and appeared to like it that way but was a good man.” Jimmy declared, then as the memory came through the mist of the years he continued, “It was Kari that tried to stop the police from taking away the half-cast kids and when they did he visited them often at Yarrabah and made sure they were cared for.” Another pause, “Old man McBride was the dad of one of the kids, my granddaddy.” Jimmy admitted.

“That is why old Millie said she was related to me.” Wayne recalled.

Millie is my older sister she married some white feller who used to treat her bad – Jack Haslow that was his name, from out Normanton way. He’s gone now bitten by a snake,” Jimmy laughed, “some said bloody Millie put it in his swag eh. It was a bloody big taipan, real nasty bugger and when they came to wake him in the morning the snake slid away into the scrub and old Jack had a look of terror, some say the thought of the snake scared him to death but he had bite marks on his leg and stomach. Quite a few they say, them taipan buggers know how to bite and have plenty of juice in them.”

“So you are also related to me?” Wayne said laughing, “Who isn’t related to either the McBride’s or the Henderson’s around here.” He added in amazement.

“You know Kari had to fight hard to give us Gulngai this land and some of the white fellers didn’t like him for it. Once all the land from Cairns to Tully was Gulngai now only empty grog bottles at Yarrabah are all we have eh.”

Wayne felt sympathy but didn’t answer. The strumming from Elvis’s guitar was hypnotic and making him drowsy. Again he searched the clearing that was once the camp for signs of Lachlan or Stephen but there wasn’t any, only the Gulngai elders drowning their sorrow with sweeter memories.

“Why don’t you all come back here to live?” Ralph asked, his eyes captured within the fire devils, as they dance along the logs of wood then died in the coals and ash.

“That time has gone eh and can’t come back, besides we were forced onto this land by the white settlers, our real home was around Innisfail.” Jimmy sighed as Elvis strummed, “Now the young ones want grog and city life and takeaway food.”

“It isn’t much different with us whites?” Wayne added.

Towards the turning of the night the fire died to flickers and glowing coals and like the fire the conversation had also abated. Elvis Battle stopped his music but gently held his guitar as if it were a small child, while the Smith Brothers and Murphy had turned into their swags. Only Jimmy sat with the boys and even he was nodding away from their company. Occasionally he would lift his head and recollect past deeds of humour or sadness until there were no more he wished to share but most proud of all was how the black man saved their Kari after being shipwrecked and almost became menu for cannibals north or cairns. That story and how it was conveyed sent shivers through the nerves of both Wayne and Ralph but they listened on with much interest. Eventually even Jimmy fell silent.

“Hey Jimmy I think it about time we went home.” Wayne declared from his advantage by the dying fire, bringing Ralph to his feet, stretching high into the darkness above the faint glow. Jimmy brought himself to wake and wished them well, inviting them back on their next visit. Their walk back to the farm was in silence.

“Want a drink?” Wayne asked once back inside.

There was distance in his tone. The night by the campfire, conversation and sharing of past tales had drained his emotion, leaving behind a longing for lost simplicity. There had been direction in Lachlan’s life, purpose, what had he? Was his to be the guardian of Ralph’s future or something more frightening as that little voice deep inside his head again demanded hearing and as it requested so, Wayne thought of Louise, his almost marriage and his masculinity pushing his nemesis further down but each time not as far as before.

“Bit late for drinking?” Ralph answered.

“I meant of anything, cold water, soft drink?” Wayne offered as he filled a glass from the tap.

“No thanks but I’m not ready for bed, want to sit on the verandah for a while?” Ralph suggested.

“What did you think of Millie’s old man being bitten by a snake?” Wayne asked.

“I’ve heard it happens, as they like somewhere warm to hide away.”

“What about you Ralph, all that time living rough?”

“I had heard the old men’s stories about snakes and the likes, I always checked where I bedded down, except for beetles and lizards I never had much trouble, except boots, scorpions in the toe you have to be sure to give your boots a good thumping before pulling them on.” Ralph sounded convincing but Wayne was not, living rough in the bush wasn’t for him.

As Wayne sat watching Ralph he remembered Stephen’s words while materialising at the bottom of the steps, ‘look inward to yourself, what had Stephen meant?’ It was then he observed of Ralph. “You have freckles?” Wayne burst into laughter, as he had never noticed them before. Lightly they crossed the bridge of Ralph’s nose and clearly visible under the weak light of the verandah.

“Have you just noticed them?” Ralph answered indignantly. He never liked his freckles which seem to be fading with the years but appeared heaver under certain lighting.

“They suit you.” Wayne smiled then walking across to where Ralph sat he scrutinised the lad’s face. “They look cute.” He laughed while placing his hand gently on Ralph’s head and tossing his hair before returning to his seat.

“There’s your usage of cute again,” Ralph pulled away from Wayne’s touch.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be personal.” Wayne apologised.

“No that’s fine, it was an automatic reaction. I don’t really mind, touch away,” he offered and ruffled his own hair.

Wayne returned to his seat, ‘strange I’ve never seen them before.’ Wayne thought, ‘yes it must be the light. Maybe I am beginning to see Ralph differently. Why? Stephen said to look inward.’ Wayne took a deep breath and released it slowly bringing Ralph’s head to turn.

“Are you alright?” Ralph asked concernedly.

“I was thinking about what someone said to me.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing much.”

“You don’t talk a lot about yourself do you? Somewhere in that head of yours there are a thousand secrets.” Ralph perceived.

“You can’t talk, you were going to tell me something the other night or was that also a secret?” Wayne asked diverting Ralph’s suggestion back upon him. Ralph screwed his forehead and turned into the night.

“It wasn’t important besides.” Again Ralph fell short of declaring his apparent question.

“Did I tell you your cousin offered to give me a neck massage the night we returned from the flight?” Wayne asked.

“Did you let him?”

“No, I thought if he was gay he may try further.”

“I wouldn’t think he was that forward.” Ralph suggested.

“He is with his eyes,” Wayne answered.

“That I know but a lot of men are, we had this joker back home, married he was with half a dozen kids, well four and even when I was only eleven myself, I found his eyes travelling to privacy a little more than one would expect.

“What at that age you could read people’s expressions?”

“Sorta but it developed more strongly later; possibly it is a way of survival. It is handy to know what the outcome will be before you ask.”

“At eleven you were conscious of sexual activity?” Wayne asked displaying a little surprise but in doing so remembered his own childhood and developing awareness.

“Schoolyard knowledge but enough to know it wasn’t etiquette to do so.” Ralph answered.

“Why do you think straight men check out other men?” Wayne asked.

“I guess it more insecurity or competition, the biggest dick gets the girl.” Ralph suggested.

“Do you believe that?”

“Could be but I doubt it. I read somewhere a survey was taken, women were asked what they most liked about the male body. The answer in general was arms, backsides and chests. Men were then asked what they thought turned on a woman and almost unanimously they answered the size of a dick.”

Wayne laughed, “If you asked Louise she would most definitely say a large donger.”

“I guess there are exceptions to every rule.”

“You know Ralph, I am becoming accustomed to country life and you may never get rid of me.” Wayne admitted.

“Just country life?” Ralph added with a touch of disappointment. He stood yawned, “I’m off to bed.”

“I am looking forward to learning to ride.” Wayne declared, while watching Ralph’s departure.

“Yes it will be good to ride again – good night.”

“Good night.”

It was some time before Wayne decided he was tired enough to sleep and as he passed Ralph’s door an impulse drove him to look in on his friend. Ralph was curled with the sheet resting below his buttocks. Wayne smiled and closed the door. “Cute.” He whispered and went to bed but something was worrying him, Ralph was a little more than just cute.

Let Gary Know that you are reading and what you think of his story. Drop an email to him: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net.

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