then she was running again, running faster than she’d ever been able to in her youth. Maggie ran so fast her feet barely touched the ground and when she leapt from the cliff face she finally knew she’d been born to fly.
Only the buffeting from the horse’s ceaseless trot kept Hamish conscious and for once he was grateful for pain. Having awoken him once they were safe on Wangallon, Luke had stayed by his side. His hands grasping the reins when Hamish’s strength failed, talking to him softly, coaxing him with descriptions of the countryside they passed through. Hamish breathed in the scent of the land he loved and it was the land that propelled him onwards.
Through a haze, snippets of Wangallon seared themselves into his memory; an ironbark tree, a woolly ewe, the contemplative stance of a cow. ‘Tell me what you see, Luke.’
‘Open country, miles of it, Father.’
‘What else?’
‘A streak of blue sky. Do you need water?’
‘What else, Luke?’
‘Birds. There’s a great flock in the air. Probably sulphur-crested cockatoos and in the trees I see pigeons. Oh, and a chicken hawk. He’s diving for something in the grass.’
‘It’s late then.’
‘Late afternoon. Can’t you feel the sun on your face?’
Angus flanked his father on the opposite side. He reached out a hand and touched his father’s arm. ‘We’re nearly home, Father. Lee will be able to brew up some potion. He’ll make you better.’
Ahead lay a body. Luke slowed their passage as he recognised the suit and the spear sticking out from the man’s back.
‘What is it?’ Hamish asked.
Luke rode on quickly. ‘Wetherly. Dead.’
‘You’re sure?’
Luke nodded. ‘Yes, Father.’
‘The man was a traitor,’ Hamish said gruffly. Angus’s eyes were wide.
Luke held up a hand to shade his eyes and peered into the far horizon. ‘I can see dust, Father, great balls of it travelling across the sky.’
Hamish slipped a little further in the saddle. ‘Good. That’ll be the herd. Are they far enough away?’
Luke reckoned the distance at about 15 miles from the river. ‘Yes, Mungo’s done a good job. We’re safe.’
They rode on, Luke becoming more hopeful as they grew closer to the homestead. It was possible that Lee would be able to brew up a potion to help ease his father back to health. Against the background of dust he glimpsed the shimmer of the homestead.
They propped Hamish up in his bed. Luke opened the window.
Lee prodded at Luke’s shoulder.
‘Leave it, it’s only a flesh wound. The bullet went straight through.’
‘Let me help you, Luke,’ Claire offered as Lee ministered to Hamish.
Luke brushed her away. ‘No. It is an old scar, Claire.’ He looked at her intently. ‘It will heal. Such things always do, with time.’
Lee cut away the bloody cloth so that Hamish’s thigh lay like a beached yellow belly on the pale sand of the sheets. Poking a bony finger at the sodden material, he began to wipe away the blood from around the wound. The stench of rotting flesh was overbearing.
‘What do you think?’ Luke leant over him.
Lee muttered something indecipherable, wringing out the cloth. The water in the bowl turned a dirty red. Hamish’s entire leg was covered in congealed blood while fresh blood seeped steadily from the wound. Lee picked at two small maggots inching their way up Hamish’s thigh.
‘Jesus,’ Luke turned to the open window and took two deep breaths.
Finally Lee spoke. ‘How long wounded?’
‘Sometime last night.’ The shadows were lengthening, stretching their way through the bush like a long yawn. ‘Can you save him, Lee?’
Lee clucked his tongue and continued his probing. ‘Very much blood lost.’
‘But can you save him?’
A trickle of yellow pus seeped from the wound and curved down Hamish’s thigh. Lee poked at Hamish’s cheek. The skin was dry. ‘He must drink water.’ Lee opened the bedroom door. ‘You get him sit up and drink water. I get herbs.’
In the hallway Angus waited. Luke beckoned him in and Angus rushed to his father’s side; Claire took Hamish’s hand, gave it a squeeze and then sat quietly on a high-backed chair. Luke lifted a glass of water to his father’s lips, forced some into his mouth, the liquid dribbling down his chin. ‘How can I give him the blasted water if he won’t wake up?’
Claire took a clean rag from the bundle near the basin and soaked it in the glass. ‘Help me sit him up a little.’ They lifted Hamish and propped another pillow behind his back, watching as Claire gently opened his mouth and squeezed water onto