Jack & Harry (26 page)

Reynold smiled shyly as he slid from the saddle. Walking to the horse's head he reached up to gently stroke its forehead, then taking a lump of sugar from his pocket he held it to the colt's muzzle, mouthing soft words close to its ear.

‘Good 'orse.' Was all he said as he handed Wandoo the reins and walked away.

The next morning Reynold saddled the colt to ride for the day. The stallion humped his back a couple of times when Reynold hauled himself into the saddle but soon settled down and by sundown was docile and obedient to the rider's commands.

Unsaddling the colt that night, Reynold turned to Harry who was standing close by with Dolly. ‘Yu ride 'im tomorra, Harry. Uncle Warri tell me 'e gonna be your 'orse.'

‘My horse!' Harry was stunned. ‘What about Dolly, she's my horse?'

‘Dolly she good fella all right but gettin' ol' now. Yu need a better 'orse, Harry. Warri, me 'n Mista Cooper we bin watchin' yu work out there wit' Wandoo. Mista Cooper tell me to ride this fella 'n quiet 'im for yu. Yu gotta name for 'im, Harry?'

‘Don't you think it's a bit soon for me to ride him, Reynold? You know what you're doin', mate, but I'm just new at this game.' He was nervous at the prospect that if the horse decided to dislodge him there would be no contest.

‘Tomorra I 'elp you saddle up 'n I let 'im meet you. Yu 'ave a little talk wit' 'im.' He patted the horse affectionately. ‘This fella be a good 'orse for yu. Wandoo 'e tell me yu go good so yu be OK. After all I learn yu to ride.'

Harry smiled noticing that Reynolds reply had a hint of Warri about it. ‘Thanks, mate, I'll try me best.'

He did. The next morning just before sun-up Harry went with Reynold to saddle the colt together. Harry did what Reynold told him, speaking to the horse gently while rubbing its forelock. The stallion fidgeted a bit but Harry, following Reynold's advice, did not flinch.

‘You 'ave to let 'im know yu not scared, Harry,' Reynold said. ‘Even if you
are
scared, don' let
'im
know it 'cause 'e can smell it if yu scared.'

Nobody appeared to pay any attention to Harry as he joined Wandoo that morning to ride on the wing of the herd. Warri and Tom Cooper didn't miss a thing however and nodded in silent approval to each other as Harry confidently kneed the colt into a canter alongside Wandoo's mount as they rode out into the rising sun.

By the end of the day Harry felt in harmony with the stallion. Not once did the horse display any rebellious behaviour, responding quickly to every command. He had a soft mouth that needed very little rein control for direction so Harry found it hard to imagine that, only two days before, this horse had been a wild-eyed buckjumper. It was obvious, even to Harry, that the horse had been well broken previously and handled with expert care.

He leaned down over the horse's withers to pat his neck. ‘You're a beautiful big fella you are. Hard to think you were runnin' with a brumby herd not long ago. You were just a big, black brumby, that's what you were.'

It was then that Harry decided on a name. ‘It might not be a thoroughbred name but I reckon it's a noble one anyhow big fella. I'm gonna call you ‘Brumby'.' He leaned over the horse's neck again. ‘You like that name? It's a good strong name, ‘Brumby'.' The horse whinnied softly and Harry smiled, sure that the horse understood every word he had said.

The drove progressed steadily with Harry improving his horseman-ship with each hard day's work in the saddle and Jack becoming what Warri said was ‘a crack shot'. There was rarely a time he missed with the rifle, ensuring he didn't fire unless he was certain, barring unforeseen circumstances, that he could hit the target. Warri instilled in him that the animals were a fundamental part of the bush; there for food and not for sport. He only ever shot what was required for the camp and, even though tempted to dispatch the odd snake or two, he resisted, knowing they were no threat and were an integral element of the outback. ‘Don' ever let an animal suffer, Jack,' Warri advised. ‘If 'e 'urt yu finish 'im off quick.'

Jack now provided all the wild game for the larder riding out alone into the scrub on Brehardie leading a packhorse, confident that Warri's tutoring over many days had equipped him for these solo journeys into the bush, something he would never have attempted without the old Aboriginal's teaching. He learned how to read signs to track animals and Warri had patiently shown him basic bushcraft. He now knew how to spot markers indicating waterholes and the skill of picking landmarks to avoid getting lost.

On one excursion Warri led him into a narrow high-walled gorge. They followed a winding creek bed to a waterhole of emerald transparent water where Warri dismounted. Indicating to Jack that he follow, Warri guided him along a narrow ledge that wound upward from the floor of the gorge opening onto a broad, flat expanse of bare rock half way up the cliff that was invisible from the ground. At the far end of the rocky platform was a cave, its entrance almost a perfect arch leading to a high-roofed grotto. Jack sensed the awesomeness of the place even before Warri spoke.

‘Jack, this is special place I show yu. No white fella ever bin 'ere before. Maybe, but don' tink so. It's not sacred laik it wrong yu be 'ere or nothin' but special to my people for a thousand years or more.'

Jack then noticed as they walked to the cave mouth that the entrance wall was covered with ancient weathered carvings. Inside, the cave walls and even the roof had carvings and paintings of many kinds, some indistinct from age, others clear with colours highlighting the designs etched in the rock. Jack figured there must have been hundreds of shapes and designs. He stood spellbound, his eyes roaming the primeval art in the natural gallery as Warri spoke softly.

‘Look, Jack. That fella, kangaroo, 'im emu, other one there 'e bungarra.' Warri reverently traced the drawings of animal footprints with an outstretched finger. ‘These paintin's very ol' Jack. Tell the 'istory of our people, animals … stories of our Dreamtime …' His voice trailed off his mind imagining the people chiselling designs with pointed stones, then using natural earthy materials, rocks or clays of different colours ground to powder and mixed with water or spittle to produce paints.

When they returned to the floor of the gorge beside the waterhole Jack looked up to where they had been but all he could see was a sheer rock wall, so well concealed was the cave and its treasures.

‘Thanks, uncle Warri.' Jack felt he should say more for the privilege that had just been extended to him but no expressive words came to him.

‘Yu good fella, Jack. Yu learn quick 'n Warri know yu 'ave respect for our people ‘'n our ways. We keep this secret little bit, eh?'

‘I won't tell anyone about it, uncle Warri, not even Harry.'

‘It all right if yu tell Harry 'bout it but not 'ow to find 'im. Now Warri better learn yu more 'bout huntin' or else we go 'ungry. Yu think yu can track some roo for tea?'

Jack knew the subject of the cave with its ancient paintings was closed and would not be spoken of again. He also decided that he wouldn't tell Harry out of respect for Warri and the people who, from the dawn of time, had recorded their history and left it concealed in a cave deep in the heart of central Australia.

‘Hard to imagine what we used to be like back in Perth isn't it, Harry?' Jack said one night after they had eaten their fill. They were seated on a tree stump away from the body of the camp with a mug of tea.

‘Yeah, Jack. Seems like it was years ago.' ‘Do you miss it … home?'

‘No … I don't think so,' He said thoughtfully. ‘I miss Mum and Dad but, and the family … not the place though. I certainly don't miss school,' he added with a grin.

‘Me neither,' Jack agreed, ‘life has certainly changed for us, Harry.'

‘Wouldn't mind a chocolate bar now and then though or some fish 'n chips.'

‘Too right! How about icecream with strawberry sauce?'

‘Yeah, or caramel, eh?' Harry smacked his lips. ‘Be good to go to the pictures sometime as well.'

‘We're sort of livin' a picture aren't we, Harry? The life we have now seems to have more adventure than any of the pictures I ever seen back home.'

They were silent for a time listening to the night sounds, the herd settling for the night with only an occasional bellow, horses hobbled nearby softly whinnying to each other and snorting as they fed, and the hollow tinkling of bells around their necks. The odd coughs and murmur of voices from the men around the campfire and a dog barking drifted to them in the evening air. Sometimes the call of a night bird hunting on the wing for small rodents, or a dingo howling in the distance, could be heard but generally, though, there was just the desert silence with a gentle whisper of wind through the mulga.

Jack noticed one morning and commented to Harry that the young Aboriginal boys, normally vibrant and laughing were unusually sober. ‘They say anything to you, Harry?' He asked.

‘No. Come to think of it though they weren't as noisy around the fire last night either.'

Wandoo was also unusually quiet as he rode with Harry carrying out their normal duties on the wing but when Harry asked if anything was wrong, Wandoo just shrugged his shoulders without replying.

Jack returned late in the afternoon with a kangaroo slung over the packhorse and three pair of rabbits tied to his saddle. Dumping the carcases near the wagon where Toffy was setting up the fire ready to prepare tea he walked up to him. ‘Why's everyone so quiet, Toffy?'

‘You noticed did you, lad?'

‘Can't help it! There's hardly been a ‘whoop' or a laugh all day. Those blokes are normally full of life. What's goin' on?'

‘Tonight's a special night for them boys, Jack. Happens on every trip when we have a bunch of young bucks with us.' He went about his tasks without commenting further.

‘What sort of special night, Toffy?' Jack persisted, his curiosity aroused.

‘Well, I don't know the ins and outs of it, Jack, as I never really worried much about it but there comes a time when the young blokes go through an initiation to become men. They head off into the scrub to some sacred spot where the elders perform a ritual on them. They go out boys and come back men, according the Aboriginals anyhow.'

‘What's the ritual, Toffy?'

‘Don't know for sure, never seen one. You'd have to ask Warri or maybe Reynold as he went up last time we were on a drove. Don't think they'll tell you much though. It's very secret.'

Jack waited impatiently for the day to end, skinning the roo before slicing steaks off it for Toffy, then filling in time by running a cleaning rag through the rifle. When he saw the riders coming into camp he went to meet them. Singling Harry out he asked him if he knew what was going on or if Wandoo had talked at all.

‘No, Jack, he was very quiet, all day.'

Jack repeated what Toffy had told him so they decided to speak with Reynold and when they got a chance they drew him aside.

‘Reynold, the boys have been real quiet today, what's goin' on?'

‘Not much, why?' Reynold seemed evasive.

‘Toffy says there's an initiation or somethin' on tonight somewhere. We were wonderin' about it that's all.'

‘It blackfella stuff, Harry,' he said, as if that concluded the conversation.

‘Reynold,' Jack joined in, ‘if you don't want to talk about it that's all right, mate, we were just wonderin' that's all. Everyone seems on edge.'

Reynold looked about him to make sure they were some distance from anyone else before speaking. ‘It jus' for blackfella, Jack, not for white men to know.'

‘We just want to know what it's about,' he persisted. ‘Toffy told us it's some sort of initiation where the young blokes become men.'

‘Us boys come to a age where we go 'long to special place up there.' He waved his arm vaguely toward the distant purple-clad hills. ‘Elders they get sacred stones out 'n talk wit' the spirits then 'ave ceremony so we no longer boys but men.'

‘What sort of ceremony, Reynold?' Jack was fascinated.

‘Can't say, Jack, it secret stuff.' Reynold glanced uneasily around him making sure they were out of earshot of the other men. ‘We Aboriginal people 'ave many ceremony. They very special for us. All 'cross this land where Aboriginal people live we 'ave special ceremony for blackfella only. Womens don' even get to go to most of 'em, only men. Old grandfathers they tell me that some ceremony bit diff'rent place to place but mos'ly they same. Can't tell you no more now.'

‘Can we come up too … to this ceremony?' Harry asked.

‘No!' He was emphatic. ‘I tell you already. It fer blackfella only, no whites.' He eyes narrowed. ‘Don' ask no more question, eh? I can't tell you 'bout it.' He started to walk away when Jack called him back.