A sequel to ‘At the Turning’

Published: 6 Dec 2018

Ralph whistled from the yard gate and both horses pricked their ears then slowly made their way to where the two were standing. “Take an apple.” Ralph suggested passing the fruit to Wayne, “I’m not hungry.” Wayne protested.

“It’s not for you it’s for Patchy, have to keep sweet with them.”

The bay came up to Wayne but he hid his apple from her sight, she then muzzled against Ralph who relented and gave up his apple, then without hesitation Patchy pushed her muzzle into Wayne’s chest and sniffed at his pockets. He offered his apple and after a quick scrunch and realisation there was no more, both horses left their company with a quick trot towards the stable.

“They want their oats.” Ralph perceived as the sound of the telephone came from the house. It stopped.

“That could have been Stephen.” Wayne suggested, aligning his thoughts to Ralph’s suggestion of travelling by horseback to make their visit.

“I’ve had a look at the topographical maps of the back road to the Tablelands.” Ralph said while filling the horses feed troughs.

“I didn’t know there was a back road.”

“Yes it’s only a service track and I believe hasn’t been used for years.” Using a large galvanised dipper Ralph placed two portions of oats in each feed bin then closed off the bag to evade the mice, “I believe it is somewhat overgrown and follows the lower range but the horses shouldn’t have any trouble.”

“Have you heard more from Stephen?”

“Not as yet I was doing some research in case you agree to ride.”

“You know Ralph doing a long distance ride scares the shit out of me, especially through the hills using undefined roads.”

“You’d be fine, besides we would camp at night and I’m there to look after you.” Ralph laughed and placed his arms around Wayne’s shoulders and gave his a gentle shake, “Remember I’ve been camping out since I was twelve eh, so I know a thing or two about roughing it.” Once more the telephone rang but again rang out before they reached the house.

“It still bloody well scares me,” Wayne concluded with a grumble.

That night after tea there was another call. Ralph was closest and answering the telephone mouthed the name Stephen; then settled in for a long conversation.

A large part of Wayne hoped that Stephen couldn’t gather the clan and had contacted with the bad news. Sitting some distance away he listened in on Ralph’s part of the conversation, which placed him back in the realm of concern.

“So it’s on eh?”

“How many?”

“That is a lot?”

“Suppose we can be there.”

“Don’t know but I’ll ask.”

“We are going to ride.”

“No not bicycles, horses.”

“It will be fun.”

“No Wayne is hooked on the idea.” Ralph winked across the room.

Wayne took a deep breath and shook his head in disbelief. He wanted to shout no but didn’t wish to disappoint Ralph.

“Yes we have horses now.”

“I can ride.”

“He is learning.”

“No he hasn’t fallen off – yet.”

Wayne smiled weakly and pulled a beer from the refrigerator, “want one?” he asked. Ralph shook his head, “I’ll be out on the verandah and crapping my pants,”

Moments later Ralph came to the verandah door looking most pleased.

“So it’s on.” He declared his eyes appearing to sparkle with delight.

“When?”

“Mid next month,”

“I don’t know.” Wayne sighed while slowly sipping from his beer.

“You’ll be alright.

“That is what you think.” Wayne finished the beer and crushed the can, placing it down on the table beside his chair.

“I thought we would take the forest service road north west of here, it’s a little steep in parts but I believe quite manageable. Or if you want to add three days to the trip we can take the south western road and go inland across the Jump-over and pick up the Kennedy Highway but that would add a good sixty clicks to the trip, probably more.” Ralph suggested.

“Or we could go by car and be there in a matter of hours.” Wayne offered.

The service road was a four wheel forestry track which lead up the eastern slopes of the divide then petered out to become what was locally known as the brumby trail, used by feral horses to cross over from the coast when the feed was good on the western slopes. Ralph had asked one of the local farmers what was the track’s condition, receiving the simple answer; Passable but with reservations.

The following month melted away quickly. Wayne had become more confident with his riding and they often spent a large portion of the day in the saddle to build up their resistance to saddle soreness and it was working. During the first weeks riding, when they dismounted it was difficult to keep to their feet, now they could ride for most of the day, dismount and walk for the remainder without discomfort, although the saddle leather had scrubbed out all the hair on the inside of their legs but the chafing had gone.

Another late night with Lachlan’s journal found Wayne narrating passages to Ralph while both gathered a greater understanding of their uncles. It was Toby who interested Ralph the most. Although Toby was an outsider he felt he could relate to him, as for Toby’s life at sea that was one part of the story that didn’t give much interest. Ralph’s idea of going to sea was to stand on the moist sand with the waves gently washing over bare feet while scanning the distant horizon.

“Wouldn’t you like to go on a cruise, maybe to Tahiti?” Wayne asked and closed the journal having almost reached its end.

“I don’t think so, cruises are for old folk.”

“Not really some friends of Louise went on one and they said it was fun. Parties, games and plenty of good food, as well as day trips to many of the islands.”

“I thought you didn’t like parties.”

“I guess it depends on the company. As for going to sea, you said you could associate with Toby and he spent most of his youth at sea.”

“It’s with Toby the farmer, Toby the friend of our uncles, I relate to and not with Toby the sailor.

“I’ve been to sea.” Wayne admitted with a measure of wit.

“Where?”

“Green Island, Magnetic Island also a couple of atolls on the outer reef.”

“That’s not going to sea.” Ralph rightly argued.

“So what do you call it?”

“Not going to sea that is for sure.”

“I went to Green Island with Louise for the day last New Year but she wasn’t much interested, no sooner had we arrived she looked a night club.”

“Did she find one?”

“You can walk around Green Island in half an hour or less, all she found was a tourist bar and gift shop.”

“Why do people go there?”

“I guess for the coral, the glass-bottom boat ride and underwater observatory but most definitely not for the nightlife.”

“Do you miss Louise?” Ralph quietly asked.

Wayne appeared distant almost incapable of giving an answer. If he said yes he would be untruthful, equally would be a negative answer. Yes he did miss the sex, maybe someone to relate to on certain subjects. Someone who knew the Cairns entertainment scene but he would need to answer no on many other accounts.

Looking across at Ralph he almost said yes but could not. Those freckles across the bridge of the lad’s nose prevent him from doing so, those bright forgiving eyes, that head filled with simple intelligence and common sense, unspoiled or polluted by high society, by greed and wantonly. Wayne would give a lot to rediscover such innocence. ‘It’s gone,’ he thought, ‘you can’t put the Genie back into the bottle, you can’t unlearn those wasted years.’ He sighed.

“Do I miss Louise?” Wayne softly spoke, “I guess if I’m totally honest I would have to say sometimes.”

“I’ve never had a girlfriend.” Ralph admitted after a long and thoughtful silence.

“Not at all?”

“In truth I never had the chance.” He added.

“Does that concern you?” Wayne asked.

“No, I suppose it wasn’t meant to be that way.”

“Would you like to meet a girl?” Wayne asked.

“I meet them all the time.” Ralph made light as his mood returned to jovial.

“You know what I mean.”

“I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“I didn’t entirely mean to chat.” Wayne coyly confessed.

“That would be a new experience, maybe someday it will happen when I lease expect.”

“Ralph, do you like me staying here?” Wayne asked.

“I do…”

“The problem is with me here you can’t get on with your life and I am always telling you what to do and interfering as if I still own the farm,” Wayne released a half chest of air as a bothered huff, “I’m going for another beer, do you want another?”

“No thanks, I’m off to bed in a while.”

After a long pause Wayne continued, “you didn’t answer my question.”

“I like being around you and I don’t think you interfere, you know more about running a house than I do,” Ralph stood and walked towards the verandah rail and leaning into the darkness beyond, he continued, “I guess there is more but -”

The addition of but angered Wayne, “you are always giving half finished statements, so why but?”

“I don’t mean to make you mad.” Ralph turned from the darkness, “I guess I’m not as clever as you.”

“Rubbish you are as equal. I’ve learnt more from you in these past few months than I have from most over years.” Wayne corrected.

“Maybe so, I’m off to bed what would you like for breakfast?”

“No I’ll do breakfast for a change.”

“Goodnight then,” Ralph nodded and retired to his room.

“Grrr, sometimes that kid frustrates me.” Wayne growled into the yellow glow of the verandah light.

“Sometimes you frustrate Ralph.” The reply came out of the darkness.

“Lachlan?”

“No it’s Stephen.”

“How do I frustrate him?”

“I told you the kid loves you but you don’t yet know yourself.”

“I think I’ve already made that quite clear.” Wayne snapped.

“Not to yourself, give Ralph time eventually he will tell you his mind and when he does go gently on his soul.” Once spoken Stephen’s voice was gone.

Wayne was revved, his head swirled with thoughts he couldn’t control and centred about his sexuality. Possibly he did have deep feelings for the lad, even love but admitting so was a barrier so high he could never climb its cold and obtrusive surface.

Possibly it was time to move on and give Ralph the opportunity to develop his own personality, staying would only hinder the lad.

“I will cancel the sale of the unit and go back to Cairns.” He determined loudly, then as quickly, “I can’t, I couldn’t remain there, not anymore.”

“No,” Wayne answered, ‘I can’t I have committed myself to the lad,’ he thought, “damn you Lachlan, damn you all, I wish I had never inherited the bloody farm, damn you Grace for giving me this problem,” he barked into the darkness beyond the verandah but the night remained silent. A sigh a head shake, a laugh another sigh, “what do they say one should do when they can’t decide, ah yes – nothing. I will do nothing.”

“Are you there Lachlan?” Wayne softly called into the night. “Lachlan,” he repeated but remained alone, “I guess I’ll sleep on it.”

A quick tidy and Wayne turned for bed but before he could take a step towards his room, something bounded along the gravel and past the verandah, followed by more bounding and much noise.

“Christ what was that!”

More noise and a human figure followed close behind the intruders. Wayne’s heart took a pace.

“It’s only me, Lui from across the road, the fucken’ dogs have got the scent of a real mean bastard and there’s no stopping them.” The intruder was Luigi Verrocchi and fast behind his dogs and the boar they were hunting. Lui stoped for breath at the stars. “Let them go, I’d never keep up with the mongrels anyway.”

“We have horses now; you won’t shoot near the horses?”

“I’m not that fucken’ dumb mate.”

“It was bad news about your father.” Wayne attempted to sympathise as Lui settled in the half light of the steps.

“Yea but he had been on borrowed time for years. The old bugger was his own worst enemy, the quack told him to take it easy but being Italian he only had one speed.” Lui shouldered his rifle, “it’s in the family; I guess we all have the same ticking bomb in our chests.”

“Still it’s never easy when the time comes.” Wayne continued.

“Shit hot car of yours, I bet it cost a packet.” Lui suggested and lit up a cigarette.

“A fair amount.”

“How did you get the fucken’ great scratch along the side?”

“My ex fiancée, her way of getting even with me.”

“Bitch eh, didn’t know you had a bird, my brother reckons you are queer.”

“What makes him think that?” Wayne asked, attempting to sound as nonplus as possible.

“Hanging around with that naked kid and all.” Wayne couldn’t see it but there was a wide smirk on Lui’s face as he spoke.

“Ralph? No it’s really Ralph’s farm.”

“I hear you sold it to him?”

“Well more returned it to the rightful owner as it once belonged to his great uncle.” As Wayne spoke a loud squealing came from some distance followed by the yelp of a dog.

“Better get going I think the stupid mongrel’s been gored.”

And as quick as the late night’s excitement arrived it had gone. “Queer eh.” Wayne exclaimed with indignation. “Cheeky bugger, well I suppose they are entitled to think what they wish.”

Instead of bed Wayne lingered in an attempt to discover the situation with Lui, the pig and his dogs. “You stupid mongrel!” voiced loudly out of the dark, moments later Lui approached carrying one of his dogs. “The bloody pig got him could you call the farm and have Frank bring the truck over; I’ll have to run it into the vet.”

“Don’t have you number, here take my mobile.” Wayne passed his mobile telephone to Lui who was seated cradling his injured dog on the bottom step. With his free hand he called his brother.

“Frank as quick as you can bring the truck, Brownie has been gored by a pig.

“The Henderson’s place.”

“Across the fucken’ road.”

“Yea that place.”

“I don’t care if you’re in bed get the fuck over here now.”

“Yes it’s bad.” Lui passed back the mobile smeared with the animal’s blood.

“How bad is it?” Wayne asked.

“Bad enough but if I get him to the vet, well who knows.” As he spoke the Verrocchi farm truck arrived. Frank Verrocchi jumped down and quickly approached, “you took your fucken’ time!” Lui complained.

“I had to pull on my dacks and find my shoes.”

“Fuck your shoes let’s get the dumb mongrel into the vet.” Without further conversation the brothers were in the truck and gone leaving behind their second dog to wander alone. As they drove away Lui called back, “the other mongrel has taken off after the pig but it is pig savvy and will make its own way home.

“Well that was real country excitement.” Wayne shook his head and mounted the stairs.

“Lachlan did you hear all that?”

“Stephen what about you?”

“And others? I bet you all didn’t have that much excitement in one evening?”

Realising he was talking to himself, Wayne switched the light and went to bed but first he looked in on Ralph.

“Ralph, are you awake?” He softly whispered.

“Sleeping like a baby and miss the excitement.” A smile another whisper, “goodnight,”

The following morning Wayne chanced upon Lui while checking the mail box. Lui appeared to be searching for something along the fence line but on noticing Wayne he crossed the road.

“Drains,” he simply spoke.

“What drains,” Wayne asked.

“Along the fence line, clogged with duck weed half way to town and the fucken’ tractor’s buggered.”

“Sorry I can’t help you there.” Wayne sympathised.

“I guess not, city boys don’t farm.”

“Couldn’t you borrow the tractor from your neighbour?” Wayne suggested.

“Borrow from old Mal Fleming, shit man he wouldn’t give the time of day never mind his tractor.”

“Oh,”

“It was the fucken’ old man they had a blue yonks back and hadn’t spoken a civil word in ten years.”

“By the way, how’s the dog?” Wayne asked.

“Brownie? Dead mate, fucken’ dead, the stupid animal.”

“That is bad news.” Again another attempt at sympathy but Lui didn’t appear too perturbed by the loss.

“Useless fucken’ animal. Anyway I can’t stand around talking all day the brothers will be screeching their fucken’ tits off at me.” Then Lui was gone.

‘He swears a lot,’ Wayne thought as he watched Lui plod his way back towards their property.

“What was that all about?” Ralph called from the side of the house. Wayne joined him and explained what had occurred the previous night and the dog had not survived. “With all the commotion it’s a wonder you didn’t wake up but after I looked in and you were sound asleep.”

“Which dog was it?” Ralph asked.

“Lui mentioned its name, Brownie I think he said.”

“Ah the stupid one but again they are both as dumb as toast. I guess one less dog to worry the chooks.’ Ralph surmised.

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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