Heart of the Country (25 page)

Jacob dug the toe of his boot into the soft red dirt. “Anyway, don't get grand ideas about our place. There're five of us to live off it, and Mother and Lizzie. Our land isn't big enough for us all. Father's talking of finding someone who might back Zac and me if we can find a decent run in the north.” He looked over Thomas's shoulder. “I've been a bit of a way past your northern boundary a few years back but I was on my own and couldn't get far. There's a mountain range out there. Bet there's good vegetation and plenty of water. AJ might even give you a bonus if you were to find it. Then you could ask Lizzie to be your wife.”

“How …? I … It's n-not …” Thomas stuttered, feeling the heat in his cheeks.

“Look, Thomas,” once again Jacob took him by the arm, “this is a great opportunity. I know you want to marry Lizzie. It's only your pride and your belief you haven't got many prospects that's stopping you. She'd marry you tomorrow if you asked her but if you think you need something more substantial than an overseer's life to offer her, then this might well be your opportunity. Neither of you is getting any younger.”

Thomas studied Jacob. The eagerness was still there but his eyes also shone with friendship. Jacob had become the brother he'd never had, but the talk about Lizzie and marriage was new. He hadn't been so indiscreet before.

“You think she'd say yes?”

“Of course.” Jacob threw his hands in the air. “Thomas, sometimes I wonder what goes on in that head of yours. Lizzie doesn't care about fancy huts or lots of money. We're not rich and her bed is the couch in our kitchen. She and Mother spend all their free time sewing things for the box she has stored under it. Since you arrived, it's filled up and they've had to find another space. She's just waiting for you to ask.”

“But Edmund –”

“Who cares what Edmund thinks? Lizzie's old enough to marry without asking anyone's permission. Anyway, I'm sure Father would happily give it to you and that's what counts.”

Thomas felt as if a window had opened inside him and sunshine warmed his heart. Perhaps he could ask Lizzie to marry him – but how much better would it be if they could look to somehow owning their own place in the future? Penakie provided a living but ultimately it was hard work for someone else's future. Maybe there
was
something better in these ranges Jacob had seen.

From the hut came the banging of a hammer. Wick had got back to work. Thomas knew he could rely on him to take care of the place. He'd done well each year on his own when Thomas took the load of wool to Adelaide.

“How long would we be gone?” Thomas said.

Jacob's face lit up. “About a week. Maybe a little longer. We'll carry as many supplies as we can. Do you think you could get Gulda to come with us? I bet he knows where the water is.”

Before Thomas could express any more doubts, Jacob was organising provisions. Wick was given a list of instructions and Gulda appeared in time for Thomas to explain via a series of words, hand signals and rough scratchings in the dirt what they wanted to do. A short time later the three men set out, Gulda leading the way and the two white men jubilant with anticipation, in search of the elusive heart of the country.

Yardu welcomed Gulda and took him to sit in the shade of the huge gum beside the creek. A bit further along, three small children played on the bank, digging in the mud with little sticks, under the watchful eyes of their older siblings and cousins. He smiled as his eyes found Binda. The little boy wobbled forward on unsteady legs: he hadn't been walking long. A few more weeks and he would be running.

“It's good that you have taken another wife, cousin,” Gulda said. “Your son is a good strong boy.”

“You have come a long way on your own.” They had spoken at length when Gulda had first appeared in their camp. Now Yardu had brought his cousin to a space alone, sensing there was something important to be said.

“I am not alone.”

Yardu glanced beyond Gulda then back at his cousin and waited. Like the gathering grey clouds above, discomfort stirred in his belly.

“I have brought my friend, Mr Tom,” Gulda said, “and another white man.”

Yardu felt the tension tighten in his body. He stared at the ground in front of him. “Where are they?”

“A long walk from here. I did not want to cause you trouble, but these men are not like those who came long ago. They are my friends. They won't harm you or your family.”

“Why have you brought them?”

“They have animals called sheep. They are much easier to catch than kangaroo. You remember the sheep we shared when you came to our country?”

Yardu nodded. He seldom thought of his first wife. He'd helped her spirit return to her country and avenged her death when he killed the white man. He hadn't thought much of the meat from the animal Gulda had shared with him that night. Kangaroo was better and all Yardu's instincts told him it was best to keep away from the white men and their animals. He had a new family now.

“These sheep need lots of water. This creek is a good one. The springs keep the waterholes full even when there has been no rain for a long time. I want to show my friends this country.”

“We all share it. I would not stop you.” Yardu said the words and opened his arms wide, but his sense of foreboding was building.

“They are not like us,” Gulda said. “They build huts and stay, thinking the land will provide everything they need in one place. I am showing my friends they must move about as the seasons change.”

“Do they understand you?”

“Mr Tom tries. I know he is a good man.”

“I do not trust them. I don't want my family to see them.”

His first wife had been so frightened by the white men appearing that day long ago. Yardu's father had told him all about it when he had returned to the camp. Some of the women had run, terrified by the strangers, the big screaming animals they rode and the noisy sticks that made the huge banging sound. Yardu had seen few white men since the day he'd thrown his spear at the man on the big animal in Gulda's country, and he would prefer not to see any more.

“I don't like these men.”

“They are my friends, but we also met others who were travelling further up into the hills. They had one of your northern cousins with them. There will be more white men. You can't stop them.”

Yardu thought about that. If what Gulda said was true and the interlopers weren't prepared to share, there were other places he could go. He could take his family and the white men would never find them.

“We will move on,” Yardu said. His heart was heavy in his chest but the season was changing and they would have had to move soon anyway. It would be sad not to come back to this waterhole but if the white men had it they might leave the rest of the hills country alone. Gulda had only seen a few of them. Perhaps they would build their huts here and not travel further. “You must teach them to respect the sacred places,” he said.

“I will try.”

Yardu stood, said goodbye to his cousin and watched as Gulda left their camp. Once more he turned his solemn eyes to the children playing with the digging sticks. The creek was running faster and they had moved further up onto the flat above the bank. He heard the sudden excitement in their voices as one of them found some of the special wild pear roots in the soil.

The light was dimming in the sky even though the sun was still high. The spirits of his ancestors were sad like him. Yardu moved slowly; it was time to meet with his brothers and cousins. They must move on today.

Jacob stood beside the creek with its deep waterhole. “That Gulda knows his way around. We would never have found our way here without him.”

“That's for certain.” Thomas looked across at the native, who was a distance away, staring at the hills behind them as if watching for something. “I was ready to give up and turn back two days ago when we came across that William Chace. He made it sound as if there was nothing out this way.”

“It's a huge country; perhaps Chace didn't follow this creek,” Jacob said.

“I think he was planning to go further north, but he wasn't giving much away.”

“I didn't like the look of that black fellow with him,” Jacob said. “He had shifty eyes.”

“I wish Gulda could tell us about him; he didn't understand what I meant when I asked.”

“This area we've ridden through for the last few days would work well with the foliage and this permanent water supply. Do you think we can get Gulda to show us more country? We'd need a run each if we were to make a go of it. Zac wants to come too.”

“We've been gone a long time.” Thomas looked to the sky. “Those clouds are getting heavier and darker. I think we should turn back.”

He could see the reluctance on Jacob's face. “If the pastoral leases are announced you can have this area,” Thomas said. “You're more likely to get the finance than me. If AJ wants a run I'm sure the country's big enough to find another.”

The low rumble of thunder reverberated off the hills. Jacob looked from Thomas to the sky and nodded his head.

“Gulda,” Thomas called, “time to go home.”

Gulda was already at the horses. He was muttering something Thomas couldn't understand.

They had no sooner mounted their horses than heavy drops of rain began to fall. Neither Thomas nor Jacob had brought their thick coats and Gulda wore only a shirt and pants. Within minutes they were wet through. The creek they were following, which had been flowing steadily, was now rushing and tumbling with the extra water. They climbed the steep banks when their way south was blocked by the widening torrent of water. The rolling hills behind them were providing a giant catchment, funnelling the flow their way.

Lightning split the sky and thunder rumbled. Gulda turned back and pointed. They all watched through the sheets of rain as giant forks of light split the sky over the hills.

“What's he saying?” Jacob yelled into Thomas's ear.

“I don't know. Sounds like ‘garragadoo'.”

“What do you suppose it means?”

“I don't know,” Thomas said again, “but we're going the wrong way. Gulda,” he shouted through the rain at the native, who had turned his horse west. “That way is home.”

Gulda shook his head, pointed in the direction he was going and urged his horse on. Thomas knew the way home was across the creek but he had lost all his bearings in the deluge and the afternoon sky was as dark as early evening. They had no choice but to follow. Perhaps Gulda had a safer place to cross.

It was a nightmare journey. The thunder and lightning moved on but the rain continued and above its steady thrum they could hear the sound of water rushing in torrents. Land that had been parched for a long time was soon in flood. Thomas was shivering with cold and had given up taking any notice of his surroundings. They were travelling single file now. He simply directed his horse to follow Jacob's, which followed Gulda's.

Thomas knew by the way he sat in the saddle that the ground was gradually climbing beneath them. He guessed it must be early evening by the time Gulda stopped and tethered his horse. He waved at Jacob and Thomas to do the same and to take their bedrolls and supplies. The bush that Thomas could see was low and straggly. He couldn't imagine why Gulda would pick this place to camp but he followed wordlessly. His legs were like blocks of wood and his fingers were icy and cramped from gripping the reins, making it difficult to carry his belongings.

Gulda led them over sloping ground covered in slippery shale rock. The sound of a raging creek grew louder. Thomas sensed it was somewhere below them but it was too dark to see. Just ahead a darker patch appeared in the gloom. Gulda disappeared into it. Following him, Thomas lowered his head and stooped into a cave. The instant relief of being out of the rain was overwhelming. He sank to the rocky dirt floor.

Jacob tumbled down beside him. “That was wild,” he said and rubbed his hands together. “All that rain – it's a miracle. Let's hope we're getting some at home. The storm looked as if it was travelling south.”

Thomas was shuddering with cold. He could barely hold his head up. He registered the excitement in Jacob's voice and somewhere behind him, Gulda was rustling something but he was beyond speech. The air in the cave had a rank animal smell, but at least it was dry.

Jacob leaned closer. “Are you all right?”

Thomas tried to nod his head but only managed a stiff jerk. Pain shot down his neck.

Suddenly there was a little flicker of light in the cave. It quickly became a glow.

“Well, would you look at that!”

Thomas spun himself around. Gulda had a small fire going.

“I'd heard blackfellows could make a fire out of nothing and now I've seen it. How did you do that?” Jacob shuffled past Thomas as Gulda stripped himself of his wet clothes. “Good idea,” he said. “We should do the same, Thomas. The bedrolls should be dry inside the oilskins. We can wrap ourselves in a blanket.”

Thomas watched as Jacob began to pull the wet clothes from his body then he turned his head to the fire. The warmth had penetrated his cheeks. He stretched his hands towards it. There was no way he would strip right down like a native. The fire would surely dry his clothes soon enough. Gulda tended the fire totally naked; Jacob sat beside him in his underwear then, with a grin on his face, stripped off the last of his clothes. Thomas shook his head. Life in this land was beyond anything he could ever have imagined back in England.

Birdcalls woke him, and the strong smell of smoke. He forced his eyes open. It was early but there was enough light for him to make out the lump that was Jacob still wrapped in his bedroll. Beyond their feet the little fire was burning. Perhaps Gulda had just brought it to life again.