Jack & Harry (35 page)

Reynold and Harry shrugged but didn't reply and Jack had a chilling thought that maybe he
would
have fired if the three intruders had continued to threaten him and his mates.

Jack and Harry related to Bruno what had happened to Reynold the day before and described their confrontation with the three men that morning as an explanation for why they were late at his claim. Bruno listened intently, just grunting occasionally as the boys talked. His face lit up when Harry described how Jack had run them off with the rifle.

‘Not from arounda here,' Bruno said. ‘The people onna da field would not do that. I ask around, maybe someone seea dese men. I think you shoulda stay at your claim froma now on'. You got lotta work to do and me OK now. You helpa me out big time. When you wanna help you just come aska me and I show you whatta to do.'

They worked Bruno's mine for him that day but Bruno excused himself late in the morning and left them, not saying where he was going. The boys had finished up for the day and were about to leave when Bruno reappeared.

‘You notta worry 'bout those men no more,' Bruno said.

‘Why's that, Bruno?' Harry was curious.

‘Never mind, just notta worry, OK? Now, you stay atta your claim tomorrow. I come round later inna day and see watta you do. Give a little advice maybe.'

Bruno didn't explain to the boys that he had been into town to see some miner friends of his and have a couple of vinos and to tell them about the three men that had tried to run the boys off their workings. There was not a lot of discussion about the incident but Bruno's friends decided that these men were not a welcome element in the opal fields and that an eye would be kept out for them.

The boys were not aware that they had already earned a reputation in the area in just a few weeks. All the locals knew of the two young drover lads that had arrived in Coober Pedy and started mining the Afghan's long idle claim with their Aboriginal friend. The people learned from Bruno of their honesty and hard working ethics so word quickly spread throughout the close knit mining community that there were two more miners considered ‘local'. Reynold was also well respected for his work digging the tunnel into the ridge and for his loyal friendship with Jack and Harry. The news that some claim jumpers with bad attitudes had tried to intimidate the three young lads with violent threats angered the miners who, although they kept to themselves and normally never meddled in other peoples business, could unite in a split second to defend their own kind.

A battered, rust coloured Dodge utility caked in dust and spewing smoke pulled into the garage on the main street of Coober Pedy beside the petrol pumps. It was after dark and the driver, an untidily dressed, thin man, paced impatiently beside the vehicle as he waited for the attendant. ‘Fill 'er up mate,' he snapped, ‘we're in a hurry.' He walked off to the men's room. His two passengers left the vehicle and wandered to the garage entrance where they filled in time looking at the racks of motor oil, tyres and batteries on display.

The garage attendant noticed two things in particular. The back of the ute was piled with camping gear indicating these three men were itinerant or newly arrived in town, and the driver, who pulled cash from his pocket to pay for the petrol, had unusually watery eyes. He watched the men closely until they returned to the Dodge and drove out onto the street before he lifted the telephone receiver, asked for a number then spoke softly and briefly into the mouthpiece.

‘Where we goin' now?' One passenger asked the driver.

‘I dunno, just drive around a bit I suppose … look for an opportunity.'

‘Another opportunity, eh? Well, let us pick the mark next time, Joe. Last time you got us run off by a coupla bloody kids.' The man nudged his fellow passenger and they both laughed.

‘Shut up or you can bloody well walk, it's my truck,' The driver snapped angrily.

They drove in silence for some time until the driver said, ‘what's this then?' A vehicle with its bonnet up appeared in the headlights on the side of the road just out of town.

The Dodge slowed to a stop alongside the stranded car and the man seated on the passenger's side leaned out of the window. ‘Need a hand, mate?'

‘Yeah, thanks for stoppin'. The motor just conked out. Know anythin' about cars?'

‘You might just be in luck, mate,' the man answered, glancing at his companions. ‘Joe here's a mechanic, aren't ya, Joe?'

‘I guess we could have a look at her for ya, yeah.' Joe, the driver, summed up the situation, making sure the man was alone, then nodded to his two passengers before picking up a tyre lever from beside the seat and stepping from the Dodge. ‘Come on, men,' he whispered, ‘opportunity knocks.'

The monthly finance committee meeting had concluded for the evening and Father O'Malley excused himself from the gathering after spending what he considered to be an acceptable time with them drinking tea and forcing a rather limp tuna and lettuce sandwich down. They were dear loyal parishioners but the priest couldn't wait to escape from the irrelevant chitchat that habitually followed these meetings. Besides, Paddy O'Brien had appeared that morning and was waiting for him.

Sitting in the cane chairs on the presbytery verandah, the evening breeze brought little relief from the heat. Father O'Malley busied himself filling his pipe while Paddy poured two healthy nips of Irish whisky into large tumblers.

‘And here's lookin' at ye, Timothy, me mate.' Paddy threw back his head, emptying the tumbler in one gulp, reaching again for the bottle.

‘It's no wonder it is that you feel like you do in the mornings, Paddy, you drink far too much, m'lad.' The priest sipped at his glass.

‘Arhh, Father it's little I have left to enjoy I'll be tellin' ye. The mornin's I feel the worst are the ones when I
haven't
been havin' a drop of
the doins.'
Paddy laughed.

They talked on into the evening, the level of the bottle sinking past the label. ‘And tell me, Father, have ye been hearin' from me lads, Jack and Harry?'

‘Not for a little while, Paddy but they've reached Coober Pedy by their last letter.'

‘To be sure they have. I never doubted they'd make it,' he chuckled. ‘Did they say if they've been findin' any of that opal yet?'

‘It was early days, Paddy, but I'm sure they'll write again soon. It worries me though, those two young lads out there in the wilds of Coober Pedy.'

‘I'm sure there's no need to be worryin', Timothy, they're made of good stock those two.' Paddy poured another healthy nip. ‘It wouldn't be surprisin' me none if there was Irish blood in 'em somewhere you know.'

‘I've heard some stories that it's a rough place full of hard men and it concerns me that they could walk into trouble easily and not know it.' The priest continued to voice his fears.

‘Arhh ya worry too much, Father, they can look after themselves and they'll be makin' friends for themselves in no time at all.'

‘Do you think that those hard-working hard-drinking miners would worry about a couple of kids, Paddy?'

‘To be sure, to be sure. Not that I'm a bettin' man, Father, but I'd wager that there are good men, hard as they are, that'd be takin' good care of 'em even as we speak.'

‘I hope so, Paddy, I certainly hope so. Care for a nightcap?' Father O'Malley started to pour without bothering to wait for an answer from his old friend.

The three men advanced slowly on the lone man beside the motionless car, the headlights from the Dodge casting their shadows in long spidery streaks down the roadway.

Joe weighed the tyre lever in his right hand and licked his lips nervously, then, everything went suddenly black as the Dodge's headlights snapped off. Spinning around, the men couldn't see anything but heard the door of their truck slam shut. Confused and concerned they stood together in the dark and were then blinded by the two powerful beams that flashed on from the blackness beyond the stranded car trapping them like rabbits in a hunter's spotlight.

A disembodied voice from the darkness behind the spotlights said, ‘you always fix a motor with a tyre lever, mate?'

Joe and his friends knew then they were in trouble but couldn't comprehend why. How could, what seemed to them to be a perfect chance to rob someone, turn out to be a trap set for them? Then they understood.

‘You blokes not as confident now that you're not pickin' on kids, eh?' the voice said.

‘Hey!' Joe was frightened now. ‘That was just a misunderstandin', the kids got it wrong.'

‘The only thing the kids got wrong was not puttin' the bullet between yer eyes, mate.'

Joe's two companions began to panic. ‘It was all his idea the bloody fool, we didn't do nothin', mate, honest.'

‘Birds of a feather flock together I always say. You're as bad as each other. Love the way, too, that ya stick up fer yer mate.' The voice was behind them now and they whirled around but could see nothing.

‘What'll we do with 'em? Shoot 'em or hang 'em?'

‘Maybe we should do what we do to all moonlighters that rob a bloke's claim at night when he's asleep.' Another voice suggested.

‘Good idea … just drop 'em down an old shaft out in the bush. If the fall doesn't kill 'em they'll starve to death or maybe get bitten by a king brown; lots of 'em down those old abandoned shafts.'

The three men in the spotlights were terrified now, shaking and close to tears as they milled around in the powerful beams, spinning from the sound of one voice to the next like cornered animals.

Then a new voice joined the debate. ‘I thinka maybe we use da shota-gun, just blowa da knees away. Dey can then crawla back down da holes dey comma from, eh?'

‘That's the best idea yet … yeah! You bring yer shotgun with ya, Bruno?'

‘Of course.' There was silence for a time except for the whimpering sounds from the three men clinging together in the dirt road their hands held up to shield their eyes from the glare of the lights.

‘OK then, that's the verdict! Court's over … carry out the sentence.'

The three men distinctly heard the hammers cock on the shotgun seconds before the thunderous blast shattered the night calm.

Screaming, Joe slumped to the ground. One of his companions fell to his knees sobbing and begging for mercy, while the third man just stood, transfixed with fear, his arms over his head.

‘Cripes, Bruno, ya missed! I thought ya were a better shot than that.' The first voice said.

Realising he had not been hit Joe was horrified to discover he had soiled his trousers.

Voice number one spat out the next words. ‘You blokes jump in that old Dodge and get outta town now. You've got a full tank of petrol, enough to get ya well away from here, and if ya run out in the desert we couldn't care less. Just remember tonight, burn it in yer memories and lay awake thinkin' about it but …' the voice became louder, ‘Never forget what I'm about to say next. If ya ever come near our town again as long as ya live or ever touch or threaten one of our people, whether it be here or somewhere else, then you'll wish we
had
shot ya tonight, so help me God.'