Loyal Creatures (2 page)

Choose the right moment, that was the go.

Tell Dad what had just been announced in the paper. Exciting new war opportunities for blokes like him and me.

Dead-set perfect for us, the Aussie Light Horse.

Trouble was, I didn't do a great job of picking the right moment.

We were on a property out west, locating water for a farmer who needed it urgent. His cattle were like empty saddlebags.

Dad was squinting out across the dusty mulga, checking the scrub patterns like we always did when we were deciding where a dam or bore could go.

I should have saved the war talk for later, but suddenly I couldn't keep my trap shut.

‘They're putting a new Light Horse regiment together,' I said to Dad. ‘Mounted infantry.'

Dad stopped squinting at the scrub and squinted at me.

‘Yeah,' he said. ‘I heard.'

I didn't know he had. I pushed on.

‘Blokes are volunteering with their horses,' I said. ‘Half the blokes I play footy with have gone already.'

‘Heard that too,' said Dad.

This time he didn't look at me. Just the scrub.

Daisy twitched against my knee. She was excited at the idea of volunteering. Well, I was pretty sure she would be once we'd done it.

Come on Dad, I said to myself. Your face won't crack if you show some interest.

He didn't.

‘Go and have a dig over there,' he said, pointing.

I knew Dad had picked the right spot even before I got the spade into the dirt. Daisy had her nose to the ground and was stamping her feet. She always got restless when water was close. I reckoned it was something to do with the gush of it when her foal was born, and how much she missed her daughter after the little tyke got sold.

Dad came over and had a squiz at the soil and rocks I was turning up with my spade. Signs were good. Plus it was a flat spot. Handy for the drillers when they arrived with the big steam-driven rig.

‘Beauty,' said Dad.

He had a gift for finding water, everyone said so. Pity I didn't have a gift for finding the right moment to open my gob.

‘Not just Europe now,' I said. ‘The war's in North Africa too.'

Dad didn't say anything.

‘Egypt,' I said. ‘That's where the Light Horse is going.'

Dad flung his handful of dirt and rocks down so hard they bounced. His face had gone so red, for a sec I thought he was having a heart seizure.

‘Enough,' he yelled.

Daisy and Jimmy both took a step back.

‘Go and tell the cocky it's his lucky day,' said Dad. ‘Before it stops being yours and I ship you off to your cousins in Perth.'

I didn't argue. Not with Dad so riled.

I hopped on Daisy and headed off towards the homestead. At times like this you didn't steer Daisy, just pointed her. So when she flattened Dad's billy with her hoof as we passed, it was her making a point, not me.

As we got closer to the house, I saw the farmer. He was aiming a rifle at something on the ground.

First off I thought it was a snake.

Wished I hadn't left my spade with Dad. No need to waste a bullet on a snake. If that cocky had bullets to waste, we should have been charging him full price.

Then I saw it wasn't a snake.

It was a dog. An old fella, by the look. Just sitting on the ground gazing up at the cocky. And the gun.

Farmers. Dogs work round the place for years, loyal as elastic-sided boots. Then when the poor mutts are too old, do they get a spell of thanks and decent meat?

Do they heck.

None of my business, but for the second time that day I couldn't keep my trap shut.

‘Hey,' I yelled. ‘Don't.'

Me and Daisy rode over fast.

The farmer gave us a hard look, then turned his attention and his gun back to the dog.

I shouldn't have, but I jumped the cruel bugger. Daisy took me close, and next thing I was rolling on the ground with him.

He was big. And angry.

Gave me a thumping before Dad arrived.

‘Pull your heads in,' said Dad, dragging us apart. ‘What the hell's going on?'

The cocky explained.

Dad was pretty ropeable when he got the gist.

Cocky wouldn't pay us. Wouldn't even give me a cold rag for my blood nose.

‘You dopey idiot,' said Dad after we rode off. ‘You know how farmers are with old dogs. What got into you?'

I didn't say anything.

In the distance we heard a single gunshot. Daisy and Jimmy both dropped their heads.

We rode on in silence.

After a couple of miles, Dad started up again.

‘Going after a bloke twice your size,' he said. ‘And a landowner at that.'

He looked at me and nodded.

‘I'm proud of you, son,' he said.

Rest of that trip was good. Mostly on account of me keeping my trap shut about the war.

Dad forgave me for losing our pay. Said it was worth it. Said at least the dog would have known at the end that someone was on his side.

I stared into the campfire and kept quiet. When your old man's got the biggest heart in the district, best not to go on about it.

We did another job on the way back. Fixed up an old well at an abattoir. Manager thought it was dry, but it was just clogged. Dad knew in his bones there was water down there.

We got paid for that one so we were happy. Made an early start home the next morning. Daisy and Jimmy at a trot, all of us chipper as anything. Dad even had a bit of a whistle, which he hadn't done since Mum died.

Then we reached town and saw the hearse outside the pub.

Two coffins. An army hat on each one.

Empty coffins of course. The bodies were still over there, on some foreign battlefield. Army couldn't bring them back. Too hard to find the bits, probably.

Dad swore, which wasn't his style.

He went into the pub to make inquiries. While he was in there, a group of women and girls in funeral clothes came down the main street.

One of them was Joan. Her mother was with her.

I got off Daisy, to show respect and so Joan's mum could see I had manners.

A horrible thought hit me. Was one of the coffins for Joan's dad?

As Joan went past, I blurted it out.

‘Is your dad alright?' I said.

Joan stopped, uncertain. Her mother gave her a sharp push to keep her moving.

‘Major Prescott is fine,' said Mrs Prescott as she signalled to Joan to keep walking down the street. ‘He's dispensing medicine in Egypt.'

The other women looked at me in a not very friendly way.

‘So, Francis,' said one. ‘What about your father?'

‘Pretty right, thanks,' I said. ‘He's in the pub.'

The women made disgusted noises as they walked off. I should have gone after them, explained they'd got it wrong. But I didn't. Joan was glancing back at me and I didn't want to get her into more strife.

When Dad came out of the pub, his face was dark. He paused by the hearse and touched both the coffins.

‘Who are they?' I said.

‘Ron and Nobby Shanks,' muttered Dad. ‘Those mongrel Huns and Turks need a talking to.'

It was my day for saying stupid things.

‘Thought you reckoned this was some other idiots' war,' I said.

Dad gave me a look. I was glad the bucket was in the back of the rig.

‘They've killed two of my mates,' said Dad. ‘So now it's personal.'

Poor Dad looked pretty smitten. But I couldn't help thinking about the bright side.

‘That mean we'll be going?' I said.

Dad looked at me. He looked at the coffins. Then he swore and went back into the pub.

I waited with Daisy and Jimmy. Couple of blokes came out and took the hearse away.

When Dad came out again, quite a while later, he was staggering a bit. He pulled me roughly towards him and cupped my face in his hands.

He hadn't done that for years.

‘I promised your mother,' he said in a beery voice. ‘I promised her that you and me wouldn't go till you're old enough. End of story.'

He dropped his hands and we looked at each other.

‘What's old enough?' I said.

Dad thought about this while he dragged himself up onto Jimmy. I was hoping Mum hadn't put the official army figure on it.

She had.

‘Eighteen,' said Dad.

On my sixteenth birthday I got up early.

Spent some time with Daisy, rehearsing what I was going to say to Dad. How Mum wouldn't mind if we went now. How she'd agree that if you're tall for your age, and mature enough not to smoke, you're ready to do your bit.

‘And she'd understand about girls,' I said to Daisy. ‘How you have to go to war to get one.'

Daisy probably didn't have a clue what I was talking about. But she could tell from my voice it was important. So she stopped trying to get her head into my pocket looking for apples.

I hoped Dad would agree it was important. Huns and Turks were giving our blokes a battering. Memorial services most weeks in the district. Four coffins, some of them.

‘So what if I'm not eighteen,' I said to Daisy. ‘I've got hair where it counts.'

Daisy didn't argue. She'd seen me having baths in creeks. She knew I was ready to do my bit.

Heading into the house, I saw something on the verandah table.

A little box, wrapped up all pretty with a ribbon.

Jeez, I thought, that's not from Dad.

I picked it up.

It wasn't from him, it was for him. His name on it. Curly writing I'd never seen before.

‘Happy birthday, son,' said Dad, coming out of the kitchen with something wrapped in newspaper. That was more his style.

‘Thanks, Dad,' I said, taking the horse brush I knew he'd got for me.

‘Struth,' said Dad, grinning and staring at the flash little box. ‘Happy birthday from a lady, eh?'

‘It's for you,' I said.

He frowned. I knew why. Mum hadn't even been dead a year.

‘You open it,' he said.

Inside the pretty little box there wasn't a present.

Just a feather. A white feather. No note, but we both knew what the message was.

Only blokes who weren't in the army got white feathers. Blokes who people thought should be in the army. Sometimes people couldn't tell the difference between a coward and a stubborn parent.

Dad's face when he saw the feather. Only time I'd seen him looking more crook was when the doctor told us Mum wasn't going to make it.

‘That's not fair,' I said. ‘They don't understand.'

Dad didn't say anything. Just stared at it. But his face. No way he was putting off going now.

I had a worrying thought.

‘We're a team,' I said. ‘You're not dumping me with the rellies in Perth.'

‘No,' muttered Dad. ‘I'm not.'

Dad didn't like Mum's folks. At the funeral they blamed him for Mum getting sick. They didn't say anything, but you could tell.

So that was it.

We said oo-roo to the neighbours, nailed the windows shut, saddled up Daisy and Jimmy, and went to Sydney to volunteer.