be on oats?’
Matt nodded. ‘These early ones are not quite finished to ensure we’ve got enough oats for the rest.’ He turned to Sarah. ‘He won’t like to miss out on anything,’ Matt whispered.
Sarah rolled her eyes at Jack. There were only fifteen head left to put through but the cattle needed to be walked back to their paddock and she figured the men had been out in the cold long enough already.
‘Two cents extra a kilo.’ The skin around Edward’s mouth puckered. ‘Tops.’
Sarah shook his hand. ‘Done.’ She offered him hot tea and homemade biscuits that she didn’t have, knowing he wouldn’t stay. He hadn’t stayed since her grandfather had passed.
Edward hesitated. ‘Next time. I’ll be having some of those scones your grandmother used to make.’
After Edward had off with an escort of barking dogs, Matt shook Sarah’s shoulder. ‘Sharp as your grandfather. But you’ve started something now. You’ll be feeding him for the rest of his life.’
‘Maybe not. He hasn’t tasted my scones.’ Sarah laughed.
Luke made camp down on a bend in the creek. The day’s gradual unravelling had been similar to the course of the sun across the sky. Having started softly with a promise of clarity, it had turned poker hot, eventually becoming unbearable. He gathered long strips of bark, prising them free of their sturdy trunks with a small axe. The action helped to calm him. He rested the bark lengthways against a three-piece frame, the centre branch of which was wedged into a gouge on the trunk of a large tree. Each movement helped to dislodge the anger inside him. He pictured it fragmenting, wished it would disappear, knowing how unlikely it was that he’d ever be free of it.
Tying the bark at the top, Luke surveyed his rough dwelling. It was open at both ends and high enough to crawl into, but it was a shelter of sorts. Satisfied, he unstrapped his bedroll from Joseph’s rump and tossed it into the lean-to, unsaddling Joseph so he could feed. His two pack horses were not so trustworthy. Ned and Ellie were known wanderers, so having unpacked their respective loads of cooking utensils and stores, he walked them to a grassy verge where the tree-edged creek bank bordered patches of sweet herbage. Here he hobbled them and let them be.
He was just beginning to start the makings of a fire when Mungo appeared like a wraith out of the timber.
‘Live here now, Luke?’ He pointed at the rough shelter and shook his head disbelievingly.
‘It’ll do.’ He only needed a bit of protection from rain for he was more inclined to sleep under the stars. From around the corner of the creek five women approached, their melodic voices carried by the breath of air hovering above the water. They were bare-breasted, their loins covered in short skirts. At the creek’s edge they squatted and began scraping up mud. This they placed in lengths of bark that was then carried to the lean-to. They set about slapping the mud onto the bark, effectively sealing the gaps and cracks with the sludge from the creek. Luke gave his thanks amid a women’s gaggle of laughter as they squatted at the creek to wash themselves free of the caking mud, flicking their hands dry before straggling back to prepare evening meals.
Mungo sat cross-legged by the unlit fire after removing his riding boots.
Luke stretched out beside him. ‘Thanks.’
Mungo gave a series of slow nods. ‘The fox is cunning. He plays with his cubs, teaches them to fight and hunt. But this fox, mebbe he doesn’t want to let you go. Mebbe he wants this cub to fight for him.’
The light was dwindling as they crunched twigs and grasses, a flame springing up immediately once a match was held to the dry tinder. Although the sky remained bright, the sun’s rays couldn’t penetrate the timber bordering the creek and the shadows grew long, the sky a berry-red haze. Luke poked at the fire with a stick, concentrating on the glowing flames, on the coolness of the sand against his palm. ‘This will be my last drive, Mungo.’ Luke had little choice. He must do the drive one more time to get money in his pocket and then he would look for work elsewhere.
Mungo flexed his toes and then busied himself pulling on his boots, not bothering to brush the sand from his feet. ‘And then?’
‘Best water the horses.’ Luke walked through the timber, found his pack horses by their gritty chewing