Jack & Harry (29 page)

Dear Father.
' The priest began reading the latest letter that had arrived that morning.

By the time you get this we will be getting close to Anna Creek Station and nearer to Coober Pedy. It has been an exciting journey and we have learned so much in the past weeks.

It's hard to think of what life was like now that we have come so far and seen so much and we can't wait to get to the opal fields and make our fortune. We don't know how we will get there as the mob goes on down to Marree so we will probably leave them at the station. We can maybe ride over, as it's not far, only about 90 miles.

Father O'Malley sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Dear Mother of God!' He said aloud. ‘Only ninety miles! Are they mad?' He continued reading.

We have put letters in for you to post on to our mums and dads if you would. We hope they get them before Christmas. Mr Cooper (he's the boss) says we will have Christmas at the station and that it will be a bang up do. It will be hard saying goodbye to our mates especially Reynold and uncle Warri. We will miss not being at home for Christmas too so hope the station will have plum pudding with sixpences in it.

Jack and Harry

P.S. have a happy Christmas and say hello to Paddy.

Father O'Malley placed the letter on his desk and sat deep in thought, staring at it. He wondered what things had happened to them on the trip that made them think nothing of riding ninety miles alone over the arid desert. Were they really experienced enough in such a short time to attempt what, to him, seemed a colossal trip or were they just being foolish and overestimating their abilities?

He found little comfort in the fact that the boys had travelled hundreds of miles already, as that was under the watchful eye of experienced bushmen. He thought they had probably just ridden at the tail of the mob and collected wood for the fire, doing small tasks that they could handle with their limited skills and were now overconfident. He hoped that Warri, or at least this Tom Cooper, would step in and stop any madness about riding
ninety
miles.

He picked up the two envelopes addressed by the boys and considered if he should write to their parents or maybe telephone to let them know their sons' whereabouts. He felt responsible for them being where they were and knew he would hold himself accountable for contributing to any harm that may befall them. He decided he just couldn't carry the subterfuge on any longer and reached for the telephone.

Turning the handle he asked the operator to find the number for a ‘John Ferguson' in Perth. He read the address to her and waited with the receiver to his ear when his eyes noticed a faint pencil line in the right hand bottom of the letter. Picking the note up, he examined it closer realising that the pencil mark was in fact an arrow pointing to the right indicating that there was more over the page.

We were a bit worried at first that we told you our plans but now we know you are our friend just like uncle Warri and Reynold. Paddy said we could trust you. Thanks for helping us.

Yours truly, Jack and Harry.

The operator said, ‘I have the number for you sir it's ….' The priest replaced the receiver in its cradle.

Anna Creek was more like a small town than a station. There were numerous outbuildings, their iron roofs shimmering in the summer sun. Tom Cooper had told them that this was the biggest cattle station in the world, not just Australia, and they couldn't believe the size of it.

‘This place,' he told them one night when they were camped on the property but still two days journey from the homestead ‘… covers six million acres. In America they reckon they've got big ranches but Anna Creek is about six times bigger than any ranch in the States,' he said proudly.

‘Six
Million
acres!' Jack was stunned. ‘That's huge.'

‘Yeah. You could fit England into it and still have a lotta land to spare. They run about twenty thousand head of cattle give or take a few and it takes the stockmen months to muster then drove 'em down to the railhead for market.'

‘Must be a lot of blokes workin' here then,' Harry said.

‘Not sure how many exactly but probably fifty or sixty.'

The homestead itself, set among the red sand dunes dotted with spinifex and clumps of mulga, was rambling with a high roof. Wide verandahs ran on all sides and tall trees surrounded the building. There were a number of grassed areas with neatly raked gravel paths that linked the main house to servants' quarters, a bakery, killing pens and sheds. A small warehouse stocked station supplies and a large corrugated-iron clad shed housed a diesel motor with racks of batteries that provided 32-volt power for the whole complex. There was also a schoolhouse, near the tennis court, where a privately employed teacher educated the station children and a windsock hanging limply in the desert heat signposted a private airfield. Water was pumped from bores then reticulated through the flower gardens as well as to a securely fenced area where the station fruit trees and vegetables grew.

Cottages accommodating married station hands were situated close to the cattle yards and machinery and tack sheds were close by. Rows of single rooms under a roofed area provided accommodation for the single men where a cook provided meals for station hands and ringers.

Tom Cooper's team reached the station homestead on Christmas Eve. The cattle were herded into a large holding paddock beside the cattle yards so for the first time in many weeks the drovers could relax knowing the herd was secure. The horses were let loose in the yards where they could run unsaddled in relative freedom without hobbles on their feet or bells around their necks.

A quiet excitement was evident among the drovers at the prospect of Christmas at the station. Even Toffy could have a break, as the station cook would be providing meals for the station hands and Cooper's crew while they were there.

Tom Cooper left the men to settle the herd and horses in as the manager had invited him to the homestead. He didn't return until late in the night, his gait a little unsteady.

Christmas morning dawned hot and dry, guaranteeing another scorching outback day with the temperature expected to reach well over 110 degrees. Jack woke early to find Harry already out of his swag, sitting on a fence rail at the horse yards, so he ambled over and climbed up on the fence to join him.

‘Mornin' Harry, Happy Christmas.'

‘Yeah … Happy Christmas.' Harry's response was subdued.

‘What's the matter, mate?' Jack asked, sensing his friend's gloominess. ‘You missin' home?'

‘I guess so, Jack. Just wonder how Mum and Dad and the kids are that's all.'

‘Me too.'

They were silent for a time lost in thought, picturing what Christmas morning would be like at home. Their families, up early, would be gathered around the Christmas tree decorated with streamers and tinsel, a star at the very top. There would be excited laughter as presents were passed around, the living room a mass of discarded wrapping paper. Cards from family and friends would be strung around the walls and over the fireplace, with the aroma of stuffed roast turkey already wafting through the house.

Their imaginings failed to recognise the fact that with them not present and their whereabouts unknown the Christmas day festivities would be dampened in Ashmorton. There were certainly decorations, presents and turkey roasting but the atmosphere was heavy at the Ferguson and Turner households with only the younger kids boisterously excited, unable to grasp the significance of how their parents were feeling.

‘Come on, Harry, we made a promise we wouldn't get homesick, remember?'

‘Yeah, I remember. When we got on the train at Northam,'

‘Well a pact is a pact isn't it?'

‘You're right, Jack, but I can't help missin' everyone, especially as its Christmas and all.'

‘I know, mate. I feel the same, but we can't do nothin' about it.'

‘First Christmas I never had any presents, Jack.'

They continued to sit on the rail watching the horses. ‘You wouldn't have Brumby if we were still at home and I wouldn't have that old Brehardie.'

‘He might be old but he's a good horse just the same, Jack.'

‘Knows more about drovin' than I do that's for sure.'

‘I guess we're just a couple of ungrateful buggers, Jack. Best I could hope for at home would be a bike for Christmas and look …' Harry pointed to the black stallion. ‘… He's better than any bike.'

‘Yeah, if we had bikes some rotten kid'd probably pinch 'em anyway!' He nudged Harry in the ribs. Laughing they lost their balance almost falling from the rails.

‘Hey, you blokes.' It was Tom Cooper ‘Get over here.'

They climbed down, wondering what might be wrong, as they walked to where Tom Cooper was standing, a stern expression on his face.

‘What is it, boss?'

‘Never mind, just follow me.' He strode purposefully toward the wagon.

‘You there, Warri?' Cooper called. Their old friend stepped into view from behind the wagon. Both boys were mystified and concerned.

‘Now,' Cooper said with gravity when they reached Warri. ‘This bloke's got a bit of white stubble on his chin but I reckon he looks nothing like Santa Claus but …' He paused for effect ‘… show 'em, Warri.'

The old Aboriginal had a wide grin on his face as he reached into the back of the wagon. Taking out a long brown paper wrapped parcel he handed it to Jack. ‘Open 'im, Jack.'

Jack tore the roughly wrapped paper away and stunned, stood with his mouth open.

‘You laik 'im, Jack?'

Unable to speak at first he just nodded dumbly, tears filling his eyes but then he managed a mumble, ‘Is this for me?'

Cooper and Warri only nodded because Jack's response affected them to the point where they were afraid to speak in case of showing too much emotion, something that drovers didn't do.

‘Wow, Jack, what a beauty, can I see it?

Jack handed the rifle to Harry. It was a .22 Winchester lever action repeating rifle. The gun was light and beautifully balanced.

‘Wh … where did you get it?' Jack stammered.

‘Tom 'e get 'im from the station manager.' Warri's face was beaming.

‘What? … I … I don't understand.'

‘The station usually keeps spares on hand so we decided to ask if there was one we could have. The manager let us have this one.' Tom Cooper explained. ‘Happy Christmas, Jack.'

‘Sorry we don't have a gun for you, Harry.' Cooper said, aware from Harry's expression that, although pleased for Jack, he was crestfallen.

‘Don't need a gun, Mister Cooper. Jack's the shooter and I already have Brumby.'

‘Yeah well, as you seem to be the stockman, Harry, Warri thought you might need this.' He nodded to Warri who again fumbled under the canvas of the wagon with his back to Harry.

When Warri turned to face him Harry couldn't believe his eyes. Cradled in the old man's arms was a blue cattle-dog pup. Warri handed the squirming bundle to Harry and it licked his face, tail wagging furiously as he cuddled it.

Tears welled in his eyes as he looked at the two men. ‘A cattle dog! How did you know I wanted a cattle dog?'

‘I seen 'ow you laik them others on the drove, yu good wit' animals, Harry. This fella she bred well. She be top dog yu treat 'im right.' Warri reached out to tickle the pup's ears.

‘It's a girl dog then?' Harry turned the pup upside down to check.

The manager's bitch had a litter a few weeks ago. That's the only one left but it's good that it's a bitch,' Tom Cooper said. ‘Bitches are very loyal 'cause they don't run off looking for company like a dog will. Besides, you can breed from her. You just have to make sure when she's on heat that no dingo gets to her though. Bad mix, a domestic dog and a dingo.'

‘I don't know what to say, boss.' Jack cradled his rifle. ‘Thanks, uncle Warri, it's a beaut gun.'

‘Best Christmas present ever, uncle Warri, boss … thanks.' Harry lifted the wriggling fur ball up to look at her. ‘I'm gonna name her Anna,' he said, ‘after the station.'

The two men were embarrassed. Unsure of how to respond to the boys' expressions of gratitude they stood awkwardly in the dust beside the wagon.

‘Yeah, OK then.' Tom Cooper reverted to his normally gruff manner. ‘You blokes better get washed up. Get ready for some tucker. Come on, Warri, let's leave these two to get ready.' They turned and walked toward the ringer's quarters.

Tom Cooper as the
Boss Drover
was asked to the homestead for Christmas Dinner but politely declined the invitation telling the manager that he wanted to be with his men. Jack and Harry didn't know what was on the table up at the main house but figured it couldn't be any better than what was served to them and the men from the quarter's kitchen.