Published: 16 Sep 2024

It had been some time since the boys visited Rosie Craddock as with the new farm it was closer for them to do business in Parramatta. For a time after widening the track the boys remained living at the hut, travelling often to build a new house and clear the field ready for planting, while Miro continued to live on Bedigal lands. On a number of occasions Miro did visit the new farm but never appeared comfortable travelling through his home territory, saying the trees had spirits and they were watching him, whispering his presence and sooner or later they would tell the Kedumba. Eventually he stopped coming and as the boys no longer visited the old farm they lost track of both Warrin and Miro. Ding remained his nomadic self, sometimes at the new farm but in the most remained about the hut in the company of Miro and when it suited and the hunting lean he would remain with the boys until he put on enough condition to return to his old lifestyle.

On approaching Rosie Craddock’s there appeared to be a number of changes, firstly her once scrubby garden was flourishing with many flowering shrubs, even a number of rose bushes, also close by the woodpile was a well appointed vegetable patch. There were other changes, the yard appeared more orderly and an extension made to the living quarters behind the store.

Sweeping the verandah, replacing Rosie viciously broom action, was a petite young girl whose sweeping motion lacked enthusiasm, while Rosie stood by, hands on hips displaying obvious frustration with her work. Rosie spies the boys approaching and waves.

Daniel brings the cart to stop close by the store’s verandah.

“It’s been a long time, have you two been avoiding me?”

“Not so Rosie,” Daniel says, “only Parramatta is closer.”

“Yes I have heard tell you have become well established out there in the wilderness.”

“Not wilderness anymore, it was as well we took up selection when we did, as there are a number of neighbours now.”

“You are just in time for dinner,” Rosie offers.

Axel jumps down from the cart, “that is why we are here, also we had a good crop this year and can afford to pay,” he says.

“No charge for old friends.”

“I notice you have help.”

“I’m getting too old and my knees are worn out. Ruth,” Rosie nods towards the wafer thing girl now leaning on her broom and gaping at the boys, “she is supposed to be housemaid but sometimes I think she is of the opinion I work for her.”

“I have also notice the garden,” Daniel says while placing the chaff bag over Patch’s nose.

“Yes Bobby is the gardener, he once worked for some swank landed gentry back home until he was caught poaching.”

“Home,” Daniel wistfully says.

“Home for the likes of you boys is here now, so it is time to forget the past,” Rosie perceives Axel is about to add his six-penny’s worth, “yes Axel we all know you were freeborn and not from the old country.”

“Truthfully Rosie, I’m not as freeborn as the word suggests and many take pleasure in reminding me of my mother’s plight.”

“Enough of the chatter in front of the help,” Rosie gives Ruth a glance, “time for lunch and some private talk.” The boys follow Rosie into the kitchen, “oh before I forget,” Rosie says, “there is a letter for you Axel, it came some months back, I’ll go and get it while you wash away the dusty road.”

By the time the boys are seated, Rosie returns with Axel’s letter, she passes it to Axel, who pockets the envelope without displaying urgency towards its contents. “Aren’t you going to read it?” Rosie asks.

“Later, I’m sure no matter what it says a couple more hours wouldn’t make any difference.”

“It doesn’t have a sender’s reference,” Rosie observes.

“I know who it will be from.”

“Obviously you aren’t going to feed my curiosity.”

Axel laughs, “No.”

“I kept all the back issues of the Sydney Gazette for you; they are bundled on the verandah tied with string.”

“I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time for reading.”

“Therefore you weren’t in the count.”

Axel appears bemused, “what count was that?”

“The census.”

“What is a census?”

“I supposed you could call it a headcount of those living in Sydney and the surrounding countryside, not including the blacks.”

“It won’t be accurate, as Daniel and I weren’t considered.”

“I don’t think you would be alone. There are many living in isolation beyond the mountains and having kids that not even the church knows about.”

“What about the half-coloured kids born to bush-men, would they have been counted?”

“I believe the count was only arrivals weighed against deaths, along with church birth records, I don’t think they went as far as knocking on doors or visiting outlaying farms. As for the blacks, how are you getting along with the Kedumba mob, I believe they can be a little ‘iffy at the best of times.”

“Yes we have to be a little careful; they are nothing like the Bedigal.”

“Umm – tipping point,” Rosie suggests as she dishes up their meal.

“Your meaning Rosie?”

“You will be able to read it for yourself as it was in last week’s gazette but to quote; it says that the population in Sydney alone has reached fifteen thousand, excluding those along the Hawkesbury River, Windsor, Parramatta and across the mountains to Bathurst it is suggested another ten thousand could be included, or more, some say the actual count is as high as twenty five thousand, even thirty, although the count didn’t come up with that number.”

“Where does the tipping point come into it?”

“The estimation of blacks in those areas is at tipping point as now we far outnumber them.”

“Possibly that’s what is making the Kedumba cranky and from what I hear there has been a number of clan gatherings of late.”

“You better be careful. How was your dinner?”

“Most enjoyable and up to your usual standard, we should soon be making tracks if we wish to be home by dark. Firstly I’ll do some of that chopping for you.”

“No need I have Bobby for the heavy lifting, although he can be a lazy bugger, good gardener, anything else you have to literally stand over him while he works.”

“We thought of taking on a convict servant although there wouldn’t be enough work to keep him busy at present.”

“And they are all thieves,” Rosie briskly admits.

Daniel laughs.

“It’s true Daniel; I even have to watch Ruth as she often raids the pantry, she has a sweet tooth and I’ve caught her chipping hunks of the sugarloaf and with the price of it, what she eats is more than her worth.”

“That is why most were sent out here,” Axel admits.

“Well,” Daniel says and stands.

“You better make a move as I see Daniel is getting towy but don’t leave it so long next time.”

On their way out Axel picks up the bundle of newspaper, “this will keep me busy for a dozen nights,” he says and places them in the cart, “Daniel you drive.”

“Then I would like to return by way of our old farm.”

“You have the reins, it’s your call.”

As the boys prepare to leave they spy Ruth hiding behind a door, Daniel smiles and waves, sending the girl in titter back to the kitchen.

“I think you have won yourself a heart there Daniel, the silly girl hasn’t been able to keep her eyes off you since you arrived,” Rosie says.

Daniel laughs as the girl goes from sight, “with the new farm far from meeting full capability, there isn’t any time for that.”

Rosie throws Axel a searching glance.

“Don’t believe him Rosie; he spends enough time in town. Who knows what he is gets up to.”

As they settle into their cart, Daniel has a question for Axel. “Why did you lie to Rosie?”

“I could see where she was heading.”

“Please explain.”

“About us, she has always had suspicion, so I though I’d give you a little activity by yourself in town.”

“Axel you worry too much.”

On approaching Stringers Creek they noticed the military post is no longer there, “that’s a sign of the time,” Daniel says as he turns onto Stringers Track.”

“Your meaning,”

“No military, I would say the blacks in this area are well and truly defeated.”

“Or dead, I wonder how the Bedigal have fared.”

“And Warrin.”

“Yes Warrin and not forgetting Miro, since he stopped visiting us at the new farm.”

They hadn’t gone far before they reached the first obstacle. A tree had fallen blocking their way but there was room enough on one side to pass, while saplings had commenced to sprout in their ancient wheel tracks.

At the first bend and close by the creek they also discovered one of the Bedigal’s sacred trees had gone. On closer inspection it was revealed its root system had been undermined during the previous rain season sending it into the creek causing a blockage.

Travelling on, it is Daniel who makes the first comment, “I wonder if our hut is still standing.”

“That was also what I was thinking.”

“It’s getting late; I don’t think we will reach home before dark.”

“Then we’ll overnight at the hut.”

“If it is still standing.”

“Yes if.”

“Well aren’t you gonna’,”

“Going to what?”

“Read your letter, I should think it is from Joshua.”

“I suppose so.”

Axel removed the letter and stares at it for some time as if he is afraid to know its contents.

“You will have to open it eventually.”

“Huh!” Axel is about to return the letter to his pocket but realising Daniel is correct he opens the letter and reads.

“Come on, what does it say?”

“It would be best if I read it to you.”

Dear Axel,

Firstly I write to let you know I am well and hope this letter finds you the same. As I write I imagine you as I remember at your hut, or more so in the painting of you. As for the corn, in my estimation it should be ready for harvest at this time of year.

Things moved quickly here after my last correspondence to you and I have sold my brothers farm for a pittance but I think the new owner will have his hands full with the Maori, as they aren’t like the Botany Bay blacks and know how to retaliate.

My main purpose in writing this letter is to relate a further disappointment, being I will not be returning to New South Wales as my mother is not well back in England and now with father also gone she needs help with the running the estate.

I can write no more as my disappointment in not seeing you again is too strong in my heart but hope at some later time, it will be fitting for us to meet once more.

Your loving Painter – Joshua.

“Estate you say?” Daniel asks.

“That is what he has written but I knew nothing about his home or family.”

“How do you feel?”

“I can’t really say, I think more relieved than anything.”

“Why so?”

“It would never have worked. Joshua is a man for the town, for society, parties and quiet conversations in well appointed rooms, all beyond my ability. I have dirt under my fingernails, and patches in my trousers, buttons missing from my shirt. I am of the land not the town and lack even basic social skills.” Axel pauses and grimaces in the gathering twilight, “It would never have worked.”

“I have dirt under my fingernails, Axel,” Daniel says.

“What is your meaning?” Axel remembers a previous statement from Daniel with a similar theme.

“If you can’t have the one you want, then love the one you’re with.”

“I ask again, what is your meaning Daniel?”

“I thought I was being obvious,” Daniel all but whispers as they make the final turn towards their old hut.

“Do you mean what I thinking?”

Daniel stands in the cart and with surprise points ahead, “look the hut is standing,” he loudly cries.

True the hut was standing although in immediate need of repair before collapsing but the garden had returned to earth and the small corn field bare, except for the obvious digging at one end, suggesting the native women still came to collect their Murnong.

For the moment Axel puts aside their developing conversation as he had his letter from Joshua while he explores the farm, “there isn’t any sign of Miro,” he calls while searching about for evidence of foot travel on the drying dusty earth.

“I don’t know how we made a living here,” Daniel suggests; his point of reference being the fifty acres they now had under cultivation and the magnificent house they had built with the help from friends on their new property. He enters into the hut, “I would say no one has been in here since we left,” his eyes are about as he calls back.

Axel follows close behind, “it does bring fond memories.” He enters the small bedroom set off to one side, “and the old bedding is still here.” He lifts the sheep skin cover and coughs, “Dust!”

“The horse yard is still usable; I’ll unharness Patch and let her go.”

“Righto I’ll get a fire going and muster up some grub for dinner.”

After their meal while relaxing besides the fire it was time for reflection, Daniel is first by recalling his arrival at the farm and how brave Axel had been in hiding him from the military.

“I know living here was somewhat basic but you must admit we did have some good times,” Axel suggests.

“Yes good times except when Mathew Cole threatened to cut my nuts off.”

“I have to admit that was a less memorable time.”

“Would you have given him the gun, or let him cut them off.”

“Truthfully I was going to give the gun up at the very moment Warrin’s spear found Cole’s back.”

Daniel shudders as cold realization overcomes, “I believe he would have done it if you gave up the guns or not. I think he had marked us both for dead.”

“I’d rather think of happier times.”

There is a sound coming from outside the door, low and scratching. ‘That could be Miro,” Daniel suggests and goes for the door. He opens and Ding walks through as if it was only yesterday when they were all together at the hut, “Where have you been?”

The dog flops down beside the fire.

“He’s starting to go grey about the chops,” Axel perceives.

“And he is as skinny as ever.”

“You better give him the scraps from dinner.”

Daniel empties the leftovers onto a dish, “should we take him back with us?”

“Like what we did with Miro, we’ve already tried that one.”

“Possibly if we chained him for a time, he may learn to stay.”

“I don’t think so, he is a free spirit; it would never work.”

“What do you think fella’ would you like to live with us?”

Ding answers with a soft yodel.

“There’s your answer,” Axel says and drifts his thoughts; “Tomorrow.” He quietly announces.

“What about tomorrow?”

“There are a few items we should take back with us and that bag of seed in the bedroom should still be good for growing.”

“While we are here we should have a look about for Miro.”

Axel yawns, “I’m bushed with all that driving.”

“All that driving! I did the most of it, while you curled up in the back of the cart having a kip.”

“All that sleeping has made me tired,” Axel corrects.

Ding releases a soft whine and heads for the door, once there he turns towards Daniel with obvious expectation.

Axel is laughing; “go on doorman, let him out.”

Daniel opens the door and Ding is through and gone in a flash.

“Do you want to put me to bed?” Axel appears to be jesting.

“I might.”

“I like what you mentioned earlier.”

“What did I say that was so interesting?”

“You said if you can’t have the one you want then love the one you are with.”

“I did say that.”

“Were you referring to me and Joshua?”

“In a way I was,” Daniel is playing with Axel’s head.

“The one I am with is you Daniel.”

“True, so what are you going to do about it?”

“I’m too struck to answer, especially since you have said a number of times that you like the ladies.”

“And I do but somehow I like you more. If you accept my suggestion I should warn you there may be times when I dip my wick in the opposing well.”

“Are you saying that because of the letter?”

“I wouldn’t have said so without the letter. How do you feel about Joshua returning to England?”

“To be honest, what I mostly feel is relief. As I said it would have never worked, because -,”

“Because what?”

“I don’t know what to say. I feel as if I am coming out of a dream I’ve had since the first day you stumbled out of the forest. Funny thing love, I think in my way I’ve loved you from the first.” Axel pauses, “it was fear.”

“What were you afraid of?”

“Saying so, as it may have frightened you away for good.”

“Even with us sleeping together?”

“I could justify that as simply sex, relieving the rising saps of youth.”

“So Axel South believes all bush-men sleep with their mates?”

“I simply didn’t think.”

“Come on to bed and I hope you’re not too tired for what I have in mind.”

A gentle cough of uncertainty.

“Come on before I change my mind.”

Morning arrives with the usual chorus of kookaburras, followed by breakfast with a number of friendly magpies that remembered the boys from their time at the hut. With breakfast done, Daniel harnessed Patch while Axel walked the parameter for signs of Miro or Warrin.

“All finished,” Daniel calls.

“Righto’ I won’t be long, I’ll take another look down by the creek.”

“I’ll join you.”

The boys walked for a couple of hundred yards along both sides of the creek, they found a number of prints but they were old. After a further search along a bank near Warrin’s favourite fishing hole they decided to give their searching a miss and head out.

“I just had a memory,” Daniel is grinning and pointing to where the creek deepened at the bend past the crossover.

“I was remembering the day you tried your skill at spear fishing.”

“And you are laughing,” Axel growls.

“You must admit it was a pathetic attempt at best.”

“Ow’ shut your face.”

They both return to the hut in good humour. On reaching the cart they were in for a surprise, Ding was seated in the cart and obviously ready for a ride.”

Gary’s stories are about life for gay men in Australia’s past and present. Your emails to him are the only payment he receives. Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Conder 333 at Hotmail dot Com

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