LINGER AND DIE
by Neil Brooka
Part seven (chapters thirteen and fourteen) of my steemit weekly(ish) serial
And for those who came in late, click here and check my blog to start from the start.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - THE GOLDEN FLEECE
All through the night and into the morning the two men watched the fire fan itself into a rage. Each lay in silence as the gusts intensified, while thoughts of gold whirled through their minds. At first light Johnny was up like a shot, brewing sweet tea and attempting to rouse Mary more than a couple of times with an offer of the stuff to appease her morning manner. As soon as everyone had had a second cup, Caesar doused out the flames and took his place next to Johnny. In the silent morning they looked like two dogs waiting to be fed.
When Mary was ready she directed Johnny and Caesar to fetch the necessary tools and to meet her down by the river. Almost falling over one another while their boots thumped over the earth to rustle up pans and shovels, Mary walked off in the direction of the Campaspe. Hearing iron on wood clattering from the direction of camp, she began to formulate a plan of attack to scour the river clean of its riches.
Only after the horses had been moved to the water's edge, and the fire checked for stray embers, did the hidden campsite finally lie still. After a time the first rays of intense Australian sunlight broke over the banks of the old riverbed causing the dray's timbers to slowly tick over with the hours as they shrank in the rising heat.
Snaking its way over the bank with alarming speed, a red-belly black whipped itself across the parched riverbed as if upon some unseen slick of lard. Every now and then it froze to taste the air and to waver its head over some half buried stone to gauge the radiant heat for a nice spot to sun itself. Finally it came across one of the larger stones – a nice, wide, flat one that Mary had put in place to use as a cooking surface. With the skill of a sailor forming a knot, the snake wound itself upon the stone. Soon its mass slowed to a halt. Its coiled form had come to resemble some obscene sweet bread, all glistening and firm in the heat of the day. By the time the sun had dimmed against the lip of the opposing bank the snake had gone.
At end of that first afternoon Johnny found himself kneeling in the soft clay of the riverbank, his trousers soaked to the thigh, his eyes tender from the greedy hunt, while a kookaburra cackled down at him from above. Mary was attempting to reiterate the finer points of panning, but Johnny had been rendered deaf by his own pride and the frenzied distraction of riches.
"Take your time, Johnny," she said, referring to his stiff movements. “Let gravity do its work. You keep missing all the small pieces see?”
Johnny hunched into the pan, struggling to spot the sand-like particles.
"It's all going to count between the big finds," she explained. “And make sure you go over the sections I've marked out for you. This area here is no good. Can't you see by the shape of the edges there was once a natural eddy when the water level was higher? I want you to get your scoop and dig deep into the clay right here. Once you've washed the contents of this last area you'll be done.”
But he didn't feel done at all. Johnny scooped a second load of sandy material and immediately struck pay dirt.
"To whom does this land belong?" called Caesar, who seemed to have picked up the knack a lot quicker than Johnny.
"Depends on your point of view," said Mary. “Ask the selectors and they'll tell you it's theirs. As for the governor, or even the agricultural company,” she trailed off. “And what of the indigenies? I bet if they knew the value they'd feel cheated. And then there's mother nature and finally god to contend with. So I suppose it all depends upon the man you ask.”
"Finders keepers," said Johnny, emptying his new finds into the kitty.
Something twigged within Caesar but he held his tongue. It was true, what Mary had told them. The entire area was virgin pickings. Like a bag of nuts, the larger finds were to be discovered closer to the surface. He wondered how long it would take if a rush was sparked, to scourge the topsoil of its riches. Mary had said one might then seek seams in the quartz deposits spread like ancient tree roots all throughout this harsh landscape. He wondered how long it would take man to turn all of this bush into a pile of rubble and waste, and if it would make any difference at all.
"You think," began Caesar, “we ought to keep some spare for bribes should anyone find us out?” It was only the first day and he now had more value to his name that ever before in his life.
"Hah! Keep your pretensions of consideration to yourself," said Johnny. “The real question is, what are you going to spend your shares on?”
"Going to go to New Zealand where things are free and easy," said Caesar. “Buy some land ... some ewes –”
"Should have stayed on the Valhalla, mate. Seeking a living with a pocket full of gold in a hornets nest of thieves ain’t the best idea you've had all day."
"What about you then?"
Johnny opened his mouth to speak, but a flurry of wings caused everyone to duck. A magpie shot through the air like a javelin. Mary saw the cause of this being the bright buttons on Johnny's stolen trooper jacket that lay draped upon a branch. She took it, turning it inside-out, and placed it upon the pan they were using to collect the assorted finds. She'd not thought of a threat from above. If they liked silver, might they like gold just the same? The Magpie alighted upon a stone nearby.
Johnny had started to speak again, but Mary was trotting off to the rock the Magpie had landed on. With another flutter of wings it retreated back to its nest, tilting its head to peer at the strange creatures through its blood-red eyes.
"Look," she said, “I didn't see it before. See the way the shadows are forming on this rock?”
The other two stopped what they had been doing. The inverse wavy image of a snake stood traced out by low-noon shadow.
"This river marks the border between two tribes," she explained, “but I've never seen much rock art in this part of the country.”
"As I was saying," said Caesar, clicking his fingers between the rock and their gawking stares. “I'm going back to Ireland.” He broke their interest again with one of the larger nuggets he had found. “See this? It's going to pay for the English defeat.”
Mary swiped the nugget, strode over the kitty, lifted Johnny’s jacket and dropped it into the pan.
"Sharing," she said, wagging a finger at Johnny who insisted he had just been making a point.
"What a waste," said Caesar, “spending your finds on the English.”
"Their defeat," clarified Johnny.
"And how do you two propose to make your great escapes?" inquired Mary. “You both seem to have everything figured out, but what of escaping from this continent in the first place?”
"What'd beyour plan of attack then?" said Caesar.
"Well," began Mary. “Securing a place on a ship would be a start? If we split it three ways we might even purchase a clipper. Could drop you by New Zealand before seeing her finish at Belfast.”
"You think we'll manage to get enough to invest in a ship?" said Johnny, having missed Mary's fanciful tone. “What of your deal with Morgan? You think he'll just let his promised bride sale away into the sunset?”
"His backing was part of the deal – a deal that was based on a lie. My promise of marriage was –" She took out a pouch of tobacco and started to fill her pipe. “ It was just to get things moving along.”
"You shouldn't mess with a man's heart like that," said Johnny, still feeling pretty happy that Mary had no feelings for the man. “And after the story you told us ... You think a man scorned is any worse than a lady?”
"And if you want underground contacts, informants and fiddlings of paperwork to leave this land, Morgan is the last person you'd want on your case," added Caesar. “He's got his finger on the pulse of every shady deal in Port Phillip you'd hope to involve yourself in.”
Mary lit her pipe to dismiss the idea. A gust of wind blew smoke into her eyes and as she rubbed her vision back, the two men exclaimed. By the time she had turned to look in the direction of their alarm, Caesar was already dragging her down into the lee of the bank.
"You see that?" whispered Johnny.
After a time of lying in silence Mary could take it no more:
"What?"
"A shadow on the horizon," whispered Caesar, “as the sun was setting – I think it was a human figure.”
"I'm not so sure now," said Johnny. “But I definitely saw movement.”
"Don't be daft." Still with the extinguished pipe in her mouth, Mary strode off, before the two men could so much as get their heart rates back under control.
"She's a tough nut and no mistake," said Caesar.
"You like her?" said Johnny, a guarded darkness in his eyes.
"Better keep an eye on her."
"Well I trust her," Johnny replied.
"No one there," Mary said upon her return. “Sure it wasn't a wallaby?”
"Can't be sure, no," concluded Johnny. “I suppose it could have been the heat.”
"There!" hissed Caesar, rushing off to find a carbine. “Dinner.”
The lean dark meat of the wallaby sizzled over the fire as its body turned upon the make-shift spit. With each rotation, Mary used a long stick to fish the gelatinous morsels of blood that were oozing from its muscle fibres, slurping them up with relish.
Since Caesar had shot and dressed the animal, he had demanded the best bit – the tail. Mary found this to be fair enough, but Johnny saw it as a confirmation – that beneath his whip-tenderised soul lay a greedy man with no one but himself in mind. Because of this tenuous conclusion, Johnny promised himself he'd not let the kitty go out of his sight before it was divvied up.
When the meat was cooked, Johnny stuffed his cuts down his gullet, burned his mouth and turned down an offer of a few blackened potatoes from Caesar. The others finished their meal at a more human pace while Johnny sat eyeballing the pan where the results of that days work sat out in the open.
If Johnny thought his strange behaviour had gone unnoticed he was very much mistaken. Finishing her meal, Mary glanced at Caesar who was in turn observing Johnny's one-track gaze with amusement and concern. She smiled inwardly and made for the dray, causing Johnny to spin like a startled rat – firstly to her, then back to the gold in one fluid motion. From the safety of shadows she watched the two men brooding in their thoughts.
For only a few moments she remained like this, waiting, like a sly hunter for a sign that the snare had caught. And so it had. Although neither man had seen it, she had been working all day to inflame Johnny's insecurities; firstly by teaching Caesar a little more thoroughly than Johnny, and secondly by suggesting that Caesar should get the tail of the wallaby to himself, as he was the one that had shot it. This petty manipulation wasn't part of any overarching plan. It was simply the resentment she had held against them since having her enterprise hijacked by greed and lazy cunning – first by Morgan (although she had managed to profit from that) and now by these two. At the end of the day there was not much she could do about it. She was no psychopath, but equally, she thought, she should be entitled to at least a little harmless manipulation.
"We've plenty of lead," she informed them upon her return, “but it's not for shot nor forgery. This is how we'll smuggle our makings.” Mary produced a set of scissor molds, one for making musket balls, the other for bird shot. In addition to these was a large iron ladle, tongs and a set of beam-balance scales.
"When I was at Campaspe run I had access to a forge, but as far as this fire goes –" she kicked dirt into the freshly ignited flames, “it would only be good for melting lead. Not hot enough by far, for gold. Pass me our finds, Johnny.”
Johnny darted forward, eyes burning while Mary opened up one of the scissor molds for the larger musket shot.
"Watch closely. I put a lump of wax on either half of the mold see? Now give me that pea sized nugget there, Johnny. Doesn't really matter the size, as long as its smaller than the mold."
Johnny took a piece and handed it to Mary. His mood seemed to have brightened somewhat, but his body was still tense. Mary attached the piece to one of the lumps of wax and closed the scissor mold. She put on a thick leather glove and in one swift motion took the ladle from the fire and poured a stream of molten lead into the small opening. An excess of silvery lead fell from the device along with the hissing wax.
"Simple. The lead takes the place of the wax leaving us with a normal looking musket shot with a rich heart of golden wholesomeness buried within."
Caesar whistled and Johnny clapped his hands together like a simpleton.
"If we have bigger pieces we'll have to break them down. There's a small anvil in the dray, but this lot should be fine as it is. Once I've finished I'll use the balance scales to work out their weights, and everyone will get his equal share."
Over the next few hours Mary did her magic while Caesar and Johnny watched over her like a pair of hawks. When the time came to weigh and divvy the results, Johnny came so close that Mary had to ask him to move aside so as to let some firelight through to her calculations.
"And there you have it," she said, handing around each his share. “Fool's lead shot. Easy to measure and easier to smuggle when the time comes.”
In a flash Johnny leapt upon his share, scooping it up dirt and all, to retreated back to his spot. Smoothing out an area of ground, he began lining up his three musket balls and two bird-shot shares. By the time he had come back to Earth, Mary and Caesar had already stashed their own shares, and now that he saw them looking at him he scooped up his lot, turned his back to the fire and gently emptied his palm into the breast pocket of his stolen trooper's coat.
By the time Johnny had spun back around, Caesar was already starting to laugh. Johnny ran his hands through his hair, sheepishly looking to Mary who had a troubled look to her face. And now the three of them together laughed in earnest. Johnny shook his head and ruffled his hair all the more to shake out the shame of his painfully transparent exhibition of raw, earnest greed.
Eventually the mood calmed and everyone began to unwind a little. Caesar lay on his side to occasionally throw twigs into the flames while Mary, cross legged, began slowly to repack her tools. Johnny lay down with his hands behind his head, to stare up into the jewel-box skies, only changing position to check his breast pocket again to confirm he had not dreamed it all.
"Doesn't get any better than this," he finally said with a sigh of relief at his subsiding fever. “I feel like a king already.”
"Now remember," said Mary, “your lot is your responsibility from here on in. No paranoia and no funny business. If you boys want to stash your loot in the bush that's fine with me, but personally I'd keep it close by. Then again, if we have to run, you might be better off leaving it for recovery at a later date.”
Caesar and Johnny remained in place after she had said her bit and took it all in and weighed up their options. For the rest of the night they brooded on and off like this, only making the odd comment here and there, but returning to their tumbling thoughts when a lull in conversation took place. Every now and then their hands would creep down to their pockets and realization would reaffirm itself – of their fortunes and responsibilities.
"Night boys," Mary finally said, retiring to sleep in the dray.
"Night," they called back, drawing up their rugs by the fire to lie beneath the plume of the heavens. From a long time each lay in silence – eyes as wide as they could go – to swallow in the unfathomable depth of the scene above.
"Johnny," whispered Caesar, barely audible over the chirping crickets.
"What?"
"I was just thinking. Mary mentioned burying some of the gold she found when she was here before. Do you suppose that lot will be split?"
"I should hope not," came Mary's voice from the dray.
"Someone's in trouble," mumbled Johnny.
"No, I was just thinking, ma'am," said Caesar in a louder voice to the dark. “Just interested if you were going back to fetch it. You never mentioned it is all.”
"It's mine to worry about, isn't it?" came her voice.
"Happy now?" snarled Johnny.
A short silence followed before Caesar spoke again.
"Did you have any stashed at your old place ?" he said loudly enough to the night for Mary to hear.
Silence.
"Your place in Edinburgh. You must have had some of your finds from Georgia – some that this McHutchens couple mustn't have been aware of – hidden in the house."
"As a matter of fact I did," came back Mary.
"What will you do to them when you return for it? Take revenge?"
"That's my business," she snapped.
"Idiot," murmured Johnny.
Whispers came crawling over the morning air to Caesar's sleeping form. Rattling pans ... Voices. For a moment Caesar's mind awoke to a hollow feeling – as if part of his soul had been picked off by a bird of prey in his dreams. He drifted back to sleep. The images playing through his head gradually formed themselves into a dream. There was chanting and stomping – he could feel it in his body – in his throat. A snake's shadow crossed the white sun above. A sandstorm followed its tail and it snarled. It snarled like a dog. It had a head like a dog, too, as it threw itself about the sky. Bubbling heat followed the dust behind its scale encrusted body. He could feel it stinging against his skin. Burning, blistering, crawling all over. Blood. Caesar awoke with the sun burning against his face.
"Just a dream," he told himself out loud. What was the time? Sounds of wood being chopped came from the direction of the river. The sun was already over the lip of the old tributary bank.
"Morning sleepy head," said Johnny. “We've been waiting all morning.” He looked to be hollowing out a long, dead log, at least a foot wide and split up the middle in two. The trough dug in one of the halfs was already almost carved.
"You slept well," came Mary.
"We're building a proper system," explained Johnny. “Going to start getting through this sand in earnest.”
"Need to eat," said Caesar. His stomach felt as empty as the old riverbed. He looked down at the cracked earth and his mind drifted back to the horrible dream.
"I think we should agree on working hours," said Johnny, turning to Mary with his hands on his hips.
"We can't afford to sit longer than needs be, Caesar," agreed Mary.
"From here on in," Johnny said, looking to Mary for support, “we start at five sharp.”
Caesar scoffed. "How are we to spot gold in the dark?"
"Dawn then," said Johnny. “First light. What you say, Mary?”
"Well that's all well and good," cut in Caesar, “but I'm having my fill and you can just as well wait.”
"Fucking hell," said Johnny.
"Life is good." Caesar motioned around at the bush and their prospective bounty. “What's the rush?”
"We're not working West Indies time here, little Caesar," began Johnny with a snarl.
"I'll make you a cuppa," replied Caesar “how's about that?”
Johnny scooped up a pan of water, marched up the bank to the red embers and poured the lot with a hiss of fizzling steam.
"Don't have time for it," snapped Johnny with the brisk tone of a master. “The assistance to my countrymen's fight against the empire can't be held up a second more. By you.”
"You need to work on your act," said Caesar. “Should have stayed in that inverted troop, you should have.”
Johnny marched back to work on his trough with a quaint look of faux satisfaction.
"All that talk last night –" said Caesar, “of what you're going to do ... all those fantasies. It's got you looking over our heads.”
"Oh, I'm the dramatic one am I? Sit down Mary. This will be good." Johnny crossed his arms and chickened his neck.
"Thank you for your attention, Johnny. All I'm saying is, you've got your hopes up to the point of fantasy."
Mary interjected: "I really don't think now is the time to be discussing our aspirations."
"The truth is we don't know what's going to happen the next heartbeat in this place," said Caesar. “You knew it as well as I did when we committed to escape.”
"And who the fuck do you think was responsible for that, Caesar? The spirits of the bush?"
Unseen by the two men, for a short instant, Mary smirked.
"It seems like a heavenly gift, doesn't it? These yellow rocks."
Johnny said nothing, but looked as if Caesar had gone insane.
"Best deal you've ever gotten inyour life," said Mary. “Who can blame Johnny for dreaming?”
"That sense of entitlement? It gives me the creeps. Strikes me as being the laziest form of thievery that exists in the world – plucking this magic dirt from the earth, just because no one's looking."
"You want out?" said Mary, deadly serious.
Caesar ignored her. "Just be a little nice not to be forced into someone else’s fantasies about a golden lifeblood that will lead Johnny's people to salvation is all. That selfish fucker can read and has a head of cast iron – why not become a lawyer if you want to change the world? Or even better – a judge? He's looking to cast his own mold of the world in this stuff and catholic pride alone."
"Some of us haven’t given up on life," said Johnny, returning to hollowing out the trough.
"I'm just trying to enjoy my freedom while I can," said Caesar, “not fever dreaming of revenge fantasies, like you two, and I'll be glad if we never speak of it again.”
"Agreed," said Johnny.
Mary looked between the two of them and saw that Caesar was waiting for her say something. She shrugged her shoulders and exchanged a sly little smirk with Johnny. It was subtle enough that Caesar missed it, but it was enough.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - TRACKS
The days following Caesar's outburst hung heavily. Those harsh observations had worked, in a way, to strengthen their efforts so that now the workday became a proving ground for each of their own steadfast resolutions. All of this boded well for the yields. Mary, herself, became most satisfied with the results, and as the days turned to weeks, the three of them relentlessly and thoroughly stripped the topsoil of its riches.
It was a strange dynamic, but it worked. The days when Johnny struck it rich, it was Caesar left stranded upon the back foot – to share in the profits and to clam up and double his efforts, and vice versa when fortune turned the wheel.
"A couple more weeks," said Mary one morning as she examined their stores, “then we'll need to move upstream and cross our fingers that the riches keep steady, but I'm confident we can double our shares.”
The two men mumbled in agreement. Mary disappeared in the direction of the river to wash, leaving Johnny and Caesar to their awkward company.
"I'm off to mend the washboards," said Johnny.
Caesar grunted in acknowledgement and went back to his own tasks – sharpening spades, and repairing buckets and pans with a ball hammer. Out of sight, over the rim of the old river bank, two sets of eyes watched the negro lost in his thoughts. As the sun rose behind the two watchers, Caesar looked up, squinted and turned down to the river to work the last bit of bank they had on the cards for the day. There was no way he could see the two figures hidden in plain sight before the sun, and neither did they show any sign of thinking as much. Instead they remained as still as statues, and Caesar seemed none the wiser.
The smaller of the two naked Taungurong children picked herself up from the earth and snuck, with no sign of fear, down the slope and up to the looming dray, followed closely by her brother. The boy peered into the darkness of the caravan to see what his sister was up to. Moments later she emerged, whispering to her brother that he should hold his arms high to receive the flower bag. The heavy sack toppled over and its contents drenched the boy in a puff of white dust.
"Get your noses out of there," roared Caesar.
"Cool it down, Caesar, they look like they mean business," came Johnny. “Hey, it's all right ... friendly see? You want?” He poked at the flour bag.
"Johnny, I don't think –"
"God save the Queen," shouted the girl with a pair of exceptionally angry eyes.
"Trade for knowledge? Trade for information?" said Johnny while holding a fistful of flower and shrugging to Caesar and Mary. “This your land, your area?”
"God save the Queen," said the girl as if it were an insult. “Mine?”
"Johnny." He hooked his thumb at his chest then turned to retrieve another small sack from the dray.
The boy and girl watched as he filled the bag and mixed in handfuls of sugar from another sack.
"You think that's a good idea?" said Mary. “Might just attract more of'em.”
Johnny handed over the bag.
"Other men sulky. God save the Queen," the two children ran.
"Wait," called Johnny, “What other men?” he turned to Mary. “What d'you think they meant, other men?”
"I think maybe it means we ought to be off ourselves," she said.
"But we've still a few weeks to go – we can double our share like you said," said Johnny, glancing to Caesar who was shaking his head with self-righteous disgust.
Caesar had been just about to say something in relation to Johnny's greed when the barking of a dog burst forth from the air.
The first thing that occurred to Johnny was that the sound had come from the two children, for it sounded more like a cute impersonation than anything any self-respecting dog would come up with. A rustling of movement in the undergrowth from somewhere in the bush now followed, then the barking began again.
"What in god's name," began Mary.
Over the ground shot the sleek black Jack Russell, whining and wheezing like a grieving mother as she bounded toward her long lost master's scent.
"Nigger?" said Johnny, head compressing back into his neck with the shock of it.
The dog leapt at the old convict, rebounded, stumbled and twirled then made a second attempt. Her body shivered all over and her tail looked to be not quite sure in which direction to wag.
"Nigger," shrieked Johnny, kneeling down and opening his arms to the dog's ecstatic toing and froing. “She must have followed us, you clever thing. How long have you been after us little lady?”
"Not possible," said Mary.
Johnny looked up like a child being told Christmas had been cancelled.
"This is all terribly wrong," she re-iterated, turning around. “I think we ought to –”
"Her collar – she has a different collar," said Johnny.
Thecooee came faint through the air beneath Nigger's failing pressure valve of doggy excitement.
"Shhh ... quiet girl. Get down, now." Johnny picked up the dog while trying to avoid the tongue that was lashing out for his face.
"RO - VER..," came a distant voice.
"I'm going to sink the gear," muttered Mary, “Caesar, get all the digging tools and throw them in the river.”
Mary disappeared and Caesar rushed for the dray to retrieve the three spades, the pickaxe and the long crowbar. Scooping them up he began wobbling back in the direction of the creek. Johnny looked up in time to see Mary motioning violently for him to hide.
The voice came louder: "Rover!"
Over the lip of the old river bank rode a blue-coated Aboriginal man. In his hand he had tucked a rifle, in the other, the reigns of his horse. Instead of turning down to the dry riverbed below, the tracker's eyes and body were craned sharply over the edge of the horse at something upon the ground.
"Two children ..." he murmured, “two men ... one lady.” He opened his mouth and lungs to call out, but, as his eyes moved up off the ground the words stuck fast. Sitting in plain sight, below, was the dray – next to a freshly quenched hearth. “You ... I've found them,” he said. “I've –”
Nigger barked. The tracker hesitated at the sight of the little thing followed closely behind by a goblin of a man with mud caked boots and a naked, heavily sun-tanned hide. He had his hands held high above his scarecrow head in panic. Before he could react, a black figure jumped out from behind the trunk of a giant manna gum. The trackers eyes re-focused upon Caesar's raised ball-peen hammer. Far off in the distance more men called out for the dog.
By the time Mary arrived on the scene she was just in time to to see Johnny and Caesar on the ridge trying to determine the direction from which the sounds had originated. Meanwhile, the tracker's horse nuzzled its master's unconscious body as it twitched on the ground in a brain-mashed daze.
"Can you hear that?" whispered Johnny to Caesar. “They're calling his name.” No one could yet be seen so Johnny set about dragging the moaning tracker from sight. Caesar followed, as did the horse. Neither seemed to know what to do.
"Don't want to – don't want to –" groaned the tracker in a fevered-dream tongue.
Mary, who had been peering out over the bank, turned around and mimed cutting her throat. Caesar looked to be still processing what he had done when Johnny prized the hammer it from his hands. The tracker filled his lungs for a final attempt. The ball hammer came down hard.
"I think they're going," said Mary, who had just come down from the bank. She trailed off as Johnny wiped blood from his own ashen face. “They've gone in another direction,” she reiterated to Caesar, who seemed equally dumbstruck. Three gunshots clapped out across the earth bringing the two men to their senses. From somewhere, not far off, a child screamed.
"What do we do?" stammered Johnny.
Mary walked past the tracker's dead body and extracted a small foot locker from the dray.
"Johnny, I think you've killed him," she said, glancing to the man on the ground.
Johnny stooped to examine the body of the young Aboriginal man in colonial uniform he had finally put an end to. It was the first time he'd seen a native trooper.
From the dray Mary,extracted a thin wooden stencil, a sponge and a paper bag of white powder.
"Live by the sword," said Caesar to the trooper, “die by the sword.” The carbine was difficult to remove from the young man's still-clasped hands.
"He was tracking us," said Mary simply, still mucking about behind the dray. “... was using Nigger to home in on us. I wonder how long it took them to get a search organized.”
"Johnny." Caesar was pointing the tracker's carbine at the dog. “Don't you think it might be better to put this animal down?”
"What?" Johnny replied as Nigger cowered at Caesar's feet.
"Be reasonable, Johnny –" began Caesar.
"You remember where you threw the spades?" cut in Mary. “We should bury this lad before we leave. They might discover his body.”
Caesar looked off to the river, then back to Mary indignantly.
"Show me where you threw them," said Johnny. “I'll bury him.”
Mary remained by the dray while the two men went back to the river. She spat on the sponge, dipped it in the white powder and began dabbing the stencil upon the canvas of the covered dray. By the time she had finished her work the two men had returned with a spade for Johnny.
"Dead Shot, Lead, Shot, and Sinker," read Johnny, where Mary had stencilled the words upon the side of the dray. “What's this?”
"Cover for our loot," replied Mary, referring to the gold nuggets disguised as lead shot they had each stashed in their respective coffins. “Let's hope we don't run in to any prospective custom upon the road.”
While Johnny dug and Caesar kept watch, Mary continued disguising the dray. With more paint at hand, she set about coating the spokes and the trimming of the cart in strong deep yellow. Should they be seen on the road the bright colours might give any witnesses something distracting to remember them buy. She could disguise herself as a man, and Johnny looked like every other Sheppard, but Caesar ... As she painted she thought it over. His colour would make them stand out like lighthouses.
Back at the top of the bank, Caesar cupped his ears and slowed his breathing and listened. Apart from the muffled slicing chomps coming from the shovel behind him, he heard nothing. Soon the birds returned to their trees and the wind picked up to whisper through the bunches of drooping eucalyptus leaves.
Mary had just cleaned up and stowed what remained of their flower reserves when a metallic clang came from Johnny's hole. Caesar spun around from his vantage point, wildly cutting his finger to his lips for them to keep the noise down. Johnny himself emerged from the hole looking sheepish and Caesar returned to his lookout duties. Now Johnny turned to Mary. He too, put his finger to his lips, then pointed straight down into the hole. Mary pulled up her skirts and knelt to see Johnny's back arching about as he worked at clearing whatever it was he wanted her to see. Finally he stood back to let light into the grave. There, at the bottom of the hole, was the biggest nugget Mary had ever seen in her life. Johnny leaned into her ear.
"It'll take half a day to cut it apart," he whispered.
Mary's eyes darted from the pit to where Caesar stood above, then back again.
"What'll we do?" Johnny mouthed.
"Take it," Mary said, a thought flashing through her mind. “Insurance. If Caesar fucks us we'll at least have it to buy us some muscle to go after him.”
Johnny's heart warmed.
"It's too big to deal with," she added, “so just stuff it in a flour sack. Now come along and help me with the body.”
The two of them dragged the dead tracker into the hole with a thump and Johnny struggled to pry out the rock.
"Can you move it?"
"Ugh – he fouled himself – that stink," replied Johnny. “Yeah, I think so.”
When they had finished they covered over the spot with dead leaves and twigs, and kicked away Nigger, who seemed very interested in digging back down to the stinking corpse.
"I need to wash this stench off." Johnny stumped off to the river, heart pounding with the thrill of deception. At the waters edge he stripped down naked, washed his clothes and hung them upon a nearby tree. While he waited for them to dry, he dove back into the cold water, thankful for the bracing shock to even out his conflicted feelings. As he swam, a mixture of security and sickness set in with knowledge that he and Mary had quite clearly broken the contract.
A crow landed upon a branch and cried its mocking song and tilted its head. Its wings opened to steady itself; something on the ground beneath its branch had moved. Johnny cast his eyes up the bank to see Nigger sniffing about further upstream. With this in mind, Johnny held his breath and lowered his head beneath the surface so that only his eyes remained visible.
And then Mary appeared. She crouched down by the water and scooped a few mouthfuls before filling the water bags. Johnny raised his head in the water and splashed about, to make his presence known. She looked over her shoulder, turned to him and removed her dress.
Johnny turned away, but he had seen her brown face and neck in stark contrast to the rest of her pale body. What he did not see was that when Mary draped her clothes over a nearby branch she had grasped something oval shaped sewn into its lining before crossing her heart.
"Not shy – are you," called Johnny, turning back to her bobbing head as it slid through the folds of the Campaspe river.
She back paddled up to him, and he felt her momentum through a wave beneath the surface.
"Where's Caesar?" he said. His voice sounded serious – unsure of itself.
"What about him? Aren’t you sick of him clinging to your tails yet?"
She moved before him and he felt her heels hook around his thighs to drag them together.
"Let him see his better get some," she said, her face against his. He felt the breath of her voice against his ear. Her hands did the work to tread water while his legs found the sandy river bed to steady her embrace.
Johnny might have heard Caesar scuffing up near the river bank, but he couldn’t be sure – it might have been Nigger. The blood pounding in his ears and their breath together had swept his senses into oblivion. He had watched Mary return to the camp carrying the water bags, but had remained in the water for a time to listen to the sounds of the world beyond, feeling nothing but elation.
Climbing from the water to dry himself in the warm midday wind, Johnny checked his clothes and began to get dressed.
"Did you and her –"
He jumped with a leg still caught in his pants – but it was only Caesar looming up from the bush with Nigger in his arms.
"You don't mind –" stammered Johnny, struggling to pull up his pants, “I mean – you don't have a problem with –”
"What you two get up to's no business of mine," said Caesar. “Might do you some good to unwind that pole that's been stuck up your arse of late.” He turned back up the bank to make sure Mary was gone. “But you should be careful with her.”
Johnny found his shirt where he had left it while Nigger squirmed her way out of Caesar's arms.
"I don't trust her, and I don't trust Morgan," continued Caesar. “What's between her and you – and by extension, Morgan – can only end in mischief. I think she'll honour the contract just as well as we will, but know this: – the only back I think she's interested in watching is her own, and I can't blame her. She's a woman. All she has is her sex and her cunning. Don't take it the wrong way.”
"I get your drift all right," said Johnny. “I mean – we were just letting off some steam is all. There was nothing to it ... If you think she has my heart by the strings ...”
Caesar shrugged. "I was just saying."
"You've got my back?" laughed Johnny, unable to hide the sceptical tone.
"In a way," said Caesar, a dry edge to his voice. “But really I know Morgan, and I know this lady has hoodwinked him and that's trouble times two. The moment she appears in civilization Morgan will know of it. It's just a warning is all.”
For a second Johnny considered telling him of the great nugget he had found, but instead he let the words butt up against his Adam's apple. "You're right," he finally said, nodding his head stiffly. He waited for Caesar to leave before following from a distance. Caesar was right. Mary was trouble and he'd be better off abandoning her at the first opportunity. But then those latent feelings returned; her skin, those lips, and he bit his lip and thought of his gold – and her gold – and how she had said she had needed him just now. A foreign warmth was making it's home in his stomach. He had never been in love before.