Blood in the Dust Read online

  As expected, Toby guided them around the northern edge of the settlement. Here, the creek wasn’t much deeper than a horse’s fetlock and had a stony bottom. With a few well-placed whip cracks, the lead cattle plodded down the bank and into the water.

  As Paddy waited for the herd to cross, he looked to where a cluster of tents were pitched by the water at the northern end of Bunyong Creek. There were six or seven children playing among the guy ropes, running and yelling and squealing. They saw the cattle and drovers making the crossing a little upstream and ran towards them, a small terrier dog yapping at their heels. They reached the trundling wagonette and ran beside it, squealing so loudly that the draught horse shied and bucked. Dundas fought to control the horse as he yelled at the children.

  ‘Clear off, ya brats! Go on, get out of it.’

  The children continued their game, oblivious to the abuse being screamed at them by the driver. Dundas let go of the reins and picked up a stock whip from the seat beside him. The wagonette bucked and jerked as the horse continued to panic, but Dundas ignored it.

  ‘Clear off, ya little bastards, or you’ll get a taste of this.’ He waved the coiled stock whip over his head and the children thought better of staying. They scattered like flies and headed back towards the cluster of tents, all except the dog, which continued to run and yap and snap at the legs of the draught horse.

  Dundas dropped the coils of the whip and gave the handle one quick twirl. The leather thong flicked towards the dog. The terrier didn’t see it coming and took the full strike across its back. It let out a yelp of agony and fell to the ground, whimpering and trying to regain its feet. Paddy thought it was all over, but Dundas twirled the whip again and, with a gasp of horror, he realised the stockman was not finished with the dog. The tip came singing out and the terrier squealed as the leather thong clipped hair from its silvery back.

  Paddy spurred Patch in beside the wagonette and yanked the whip from Dundas’s hand.

  ‘What the hell, young fella?’

  Paddy coiled the whip and threw it into the load space behind the drover, then pointed at the backs of the last cattle crossing the creek.

  ‘Yeah, all right.’ Dundas had a sneer on his face as he gathered up the reins and gave them a flick. ‘Don’t be telling me what to do. They shouldn’t have come running at me like that.’ The wagonette started forward and Paddy could hear the drover still talking to himself as he descended the creek bank. ‘Ha! That’s a good one. A mute telling me what to do.’

  Paddy watched the drover for a moment then swung from Patch’s back. The dog still lay squirming in the grass and he went and picked it up. The little terrier struggled feebly and Paddy stroked it behind the ears. There was a raw welt on the silver-haired back.

  ‘Is Bobby all right, mister?

  A boy of about seven stood a few paces away. He wore a pair of trousers about four sizes too big for him that were held up by twine braces. The other children weren’t so brave and waited near the camp, watching intently.

  Paddy nodded and carried the dog to the boy.

  ‘You all right, Bobby?’ He took the dog from Paddy and cradled it gently, and the tongue came out, long and pink, licking at the boy’s grubby face. Without another word, the boy turned and carried the dog back to where the other children waited.

  Paddy collected Patch’s reins and remounted. All the cattle were across the creek now, along with Dundas and the wagonette. Toby was waiting on the other side.

  ‘Where have you been, Pad? What the hell happened?’

  Paddy pointed at the wagonette and shook his head severely.

  ‘Something happen with Dundas?’

  Paddy nodded and shifted his finger to Scotchy, just visible on the right flank. He shook his head again.

  ‘Yeah, they’re a strange pair of coves. I don’t like them much either, matey. As soon as we get to Bendigo Creek, we pay them off and never see them again. We just need them for a few days more. I need to get back on the flank. Are you all right back here?’

  Paddy nodded and Toby spun Moonlight on the spot and trotted back towards the herd. He watched his brother for a moment and then let his gaze slip back to Dundas on the wagonette. Paddy had always thought of himself as an easy-going, friendly sort of person who got along well with everyone he met. As he watched the drover guide the wagonette through the pall of dust, he decided that he didn’t like Dundas at all. The sooner this drive was over the better.

  By Toby’s estimation, they were covering a good ten to twelve miles a day. With six days behind them, Bendigo Creek couldn’t be too far away. An hour before moving the herd off the track and making camp, he had spoken to two southbound riders who had informed him they had left the Bendigo diggings at noon that day.

  Tomorrow, Toby thought. Tomorrow we reach the diggings and I get ol’ man Pelham off my back.

  He looked to where Scotchy and Dundas rode the flanks. Tomorrow he would be able to pay them out and see them ride away, a thought that brought a smile to his lips. The pair of drovers had been difficult to manage. They argued with him at every opportunity. Toby had done his best to divide the chores equally among them all, but Scotchy and Dundas found fault in nearly every task he gave out. In the end, he’d found it easier to do whatever needed doing himself, rather than get into an argument with the two men. Paddy had tried to take up some of the slack as well, offering to cook the meals each night and morning, tend to the horses and collect firewood. Toby was thankful for his brother’s support. Even with the two drovers, he would not have made it this far without Paddy.

  They made camp inside the sweeping bend of a creek. The far bank had been severely undercut and was impassable to the cattle, making it easy to keep them herded on the near side. One man could easily patrol the narrow neck of land and chase any strays back to the mob.

  ‘Whatcha gonna cook for dinner, young fella?’ Scotchy stood with his saddle in his arms as he watched Paddy build a campfire.

  Paddy pointed at a skinned possum that Toby had shot out of a gum tree earlier that day.

  ‘Possum stew again?’ Scotchy screwed up his face in disgust.

  Paddy nodded and went back to feeding the fire from a pile of sticks.

  ‘Put a bit more salt in this time eh, Chatterbox? Help mask the taste. The one you did last night was bloody horrible. Me guts is still churning.’

  Toby had rebuked Scotchy on several occasions for the names he called Paddy. The one-eyed drover always apologised profusely and then went on to call Paddy a different name. Toby opened his mouth to tell the drover off, but Paddy looked up from where he worked and gave a slight shake of his head. Toby took the hint and kept his mouth shut.

  Tomorrow, he reminded himself. I only have to put up with him until tomorrow.

  Dundas was left to patrol the cattle while the other three ate. Toby enjoyed the stew, but Scotchy complained at every mouthful and talked up the meal he was going to enjoy when they reached the diggings tomorrow and were paid out.

  They finished eating and Toby sent Paddy out to relieve Dundas. Not wanting to get into an argument with Scotchy, he gathered up the dirty plates himself, placed them in the wash tub and waited for the big iron kettle to boil. While he washed the dishes, Scotchy rolled a cigarette and sprawled on his bedroll.

  ‘So, Mr O’Rourke, how much do you figure your mob of cattle will be worth when we push them into the butcher’s yards tomorrow?’

  Toby dropped the tattered and stained dishcloth into the suds and looked at Scotchy. The drover had asked this question a few times over the past week, and Toby had always fobbed him off with a vague answer. His finances were none of Scotchy’s business.

  ‘Like I said the last time you asked, several hundred pounds.’

  Scotchy grunted and drew on his cigarette. ‘A good beast would be worth quite a few pounds, I would think, Mr O’Rourke. I hear a meal on the diggings can cost close to one and a half pounds. And that’s for mutton. No, I reckon you’ve got a fortune wandering abou
t in them trees over there.’

  There was a strange edge to the drover’s voice. Toby wasn’t sure if it was admiration or greed. He looked down at Scotchy and found the drover studying him intently, his one good eye reflecting the firelight. A little chill ran down his spine.

  ‘Anyways,’ Scotchy added. ‘Dundas and me are looking forward to getting paid. Been a pleasure working for you, Mr O’Rourke. An absolute pleasure.’ He turned to place another stick on the fire, but not so fast that Toby missed the smile on his tanned face.

  Toby had given himself the midnight-to-two o’clock shift, but he had trouble sleeping and was already awake when Paddy wandered out of the darkness and unsaddled Patch at the horse line, a hitching rope tied between two gum trees some twenty paces from the camp.

  ‘All quiet, Pad?’ Toby whispered. Across the fire, the two drovers were wrapped in their bedrolls, Dundas snoring so loudly he sounded like a bow saw cutting through a well-seasoned piece of gum tree.

  Paddy nodded and gave Toby the fob watch that had been their father’s. The youngster slipped into his bedroll as Toby threw his saddle onto Moonlight and he heard his brother start up a duet of snoring with Dundas. He swung onto the horse’s back and headed for the creek.

  Looking back towards the campsite, he could see the wagonette, horses and the shadowy lumps of the three sleeping figures. He had thrown a piece of wood on the fire before saddling Moonlight and it now flared brightly, throwing a large circle of light over the camp and into the scattered trees.

  As he watched, a figure rose from beside the fire. Judging by the long silhouette it could only be Scotchy. He crossed the camp and relieved himself against a tree then went back to his bedroll, pausing briefly beside the prone form of Dundas before settling down once more. Toby was too far away to hear what was said – maybe Scotchy was ragging on Dundas for his loud snoring.

  He found the cattle bunched together and tried to count them, but the task was nearly impossible in the darkness, so he wandered back and forth across the narrow neck of land, sometimes in the saddle and sometimes on foot with the reins looped over the pommel and Moonlight following behind like a faithful puppy. Once, when they reached the bank of the creek, Toby let the horse step down into the water to drink while he sat on the loose gravel and looked up at the stars. The Southern Cross had passed the vertical and now leaned drunkenly to the right as it continued its never-ending journey around the south celestial pole. A quarter moon stood in the eastern sky. Moonlight came up from the water and pushed gently at his shoulder. He took the reins and swung into the saddle, setting off once more to patrol the cattle.

  After crossing the neck of land, Toby pulled his father’s fob watch from his pocket. He had to twist it carefully to catch enough light to read the face.

  Three minutes to two.

  He walked Moonlight back to the camp and unsaddled him before waking Scotchy. The drover arose almost immediately, which was strange given the usual stream of oaths he’d let fly when woken for his shift.

  ‘You’re pretty eager to get at it tonight,’ Toby whispered as he slipped into his bedroll.

  ‘Last night out, isn’t it, Mr O’Rourke? Tomorrow is pay day, and we’ll have money to spend and nuggets to pick off the ground.’ He poured himself a lukewarm cup of tea from the billy before saddling his horse and riding into the darkness. Despite his misgivings, Toby fell asleep before the drover was out of sight.

  He awoke to something cold and hard pushing against his upper lip. He struggled to blink sleep from his eyes and tried to move away from whatever it was, but it followed his movements. His eyes finally focused enough to reveal Scotchy pressing a large single-shot pistol into his face.

  ‘What the hell!’ Toby tried to bring his hands up. A low growl from Scotchy warned him to be still. Across the dying embers of the campfire Dundas had Paddy’s hands tied behind his back and was leading him by the trailing end of rope, jerking it savagely so that Paddy stumbled as he walked.

  Despite the gun in his face, Toby felt his anger flare. ‘Don’t hurt him, or I’ll –’

  ‘You’ll be doing nothing, Mr O’Rourke.’ Scotchy’s voice carried a promise of violence. ‘Your brother and you will wait right here while Dundas and me take your cattle into Bendigo Creek.’

  ‘You’re duffing our cattle? You can’t.’

  ‘We can and we are,’ Scotchy said. ‘Tie him and his brother to the tree,’ he added. Dundas used the tail of rope attached to Paddy to tie Toby’s hands behind his back. When he finished, Scotchy uncocked the pistol and stood up.

  ‘You can’t take our cattle.’

  ‘Me heart strings is pulling for you, but it won’t do you no good. We’ve spent the last two year’s scratching around in the dust, trying to make an honest living, only stealing when we had to. Fortune took the liberty never to smile on us, so we decided we’d just have to take someone else’s.’

  In the east the sky was beginning to lighten and Toby could see that the cattle had been moved close to the campsite. Scotchy and Dundas made up their bedrolls, strapping them to their saddled horses. He had been so tired he’d slept through the men’s preparations.

  ‘You can’t just ride off and leave us here. We’ll die.’

  Both men swung into their saddles. ‘I’ll get the horses,’ Dundas said, ignoring the plea. He rode over to where Moonlight and Patch were tethered, cut the lines and used a stick to whip their rumps and send both animals galloping into the darkness. Then he went to the draught horse for the wagonette and did the same.

  ‘Let’s get a move on,’ Scotchy said. ‘By the time they get free and find one of them horses we’ll be counting money in a sly grog shop and buying the bar.’

  They urged their mounts off without looking back. Toby heard a whip crack and the cattle, used to the routine after a week on the road, turned as one and moved onto the track.

  ‘Wait,’ Toby called after them. ‘Please, wait!’ He yelled until they disappeared into the bush and the dust.

  Paddy began to cry, snuffling softly, but Toby felt too angry to offer any comfort. He stared at the place where Scotchy and Dundas had disappeared and cursed softly under his breath. He kicked his bedroll away from his feet and tugged at the ropes binding his wrists. Paddy let out a whimper of pain as his hands were pulled up hard against the tree.

  ‘Dundas tied these knots with one hand, Pad. How good can they be? See if you can get free.’

  Toby wasn’t sure how long they worked at the rope. Dundas’s one-handed knot-tying proved to be better than first thought. Toby was almost ready to give up and try something else when Paddy was able to work a hand loose. He quickly untied himself then freed Toby.

  ‘Stay here,’ Toby said. ‘Get the guns and load them.’ He left Paddy and ran to the creek. Their horses were nowhere in sight. He searched up and down both sides of the narrow watercourse for an hour and finally found both Moonlight and Patch standing beneath the spreading branches of a stringybark. Moonlight wore a halter and the end of the cut lead rope trailed between his front legs. Toby took hold of the rope and headed back to camp. He threw his saddle on, pulled the bridle into place, then slipped the Lovell into its scabbard.

  ‘See if you can catch your horse,’ he told Paddy over his shoulder. ‘He was over near the creek. Find the one for the wagonette as well, but stay around here. Keep your gun with you. I’ll be back for you before dark.’ Paddy nodded in understanding and Toby spurred the horse’s flanks.

  Scotchy and Dundas had about two hours start on him. If he rode hard, he might be able to catch them before they could sell the cattle. He urged Moonlight into a gallop the moment he found the track. A few minutes later he charged between two southbound riders who yelled and cursed at him as their startled mounts reared and plunged.

  On the outskirts of Bendigo Creek Toby reined down to a trot. Foaming sweat had blown back from his horse’s chest, soaking the legs of his trousers. He had never pushed Moonlight so hard before and felt guilty, though the horse
had given everything Toby had asked of him. He glanced at the butt of the Lovell protruding from the scabbard and wondered what else he might be capable of if he caught up with Scotchy and Dundas.

  A small boy stood at the edge of the road, throwing stones at a half-breed dingo.

  ‘Did two men drive some cattle through here this morning?’ Toby called.

  The boy looked up and nodded.

  ‘Did you see where they took them?’

  A grubby finger pointed over tents and mullock heaps. ‘The butcher yards on the other side.’

  Toby found his cattle penned in a yard beyond a dry creek that divided the diggings from the commercial enterprises. He reined in at the rail and made his way towards a shack built from bush timber and calico. Near one of the yards, several men were setting up a gibbet in preparation for the coming slaughter.

  A short, heavily built man sat at a makeshift desk inside the shack. He looked up curiously as Toby burst through the entrance.

  ‘Those cattle in the yard,’ he shouted. ‘They were brought in early this morning by two men; one had a patch over his eye and the other had one hand.’

  The man rose from his seat and matched Toby’s aggressive stance. ‘Mr O’Rourke and his brother. They drove the cattle up from Geelong. Apparently the prices are not so good on the Ballarat diggings.’

  ‘They were two thieves named Scotchy and Dundas,’ Toby blurted. ‘I’m Toby O’Rourke. I hired them to help drive my cattle up from the Coliban. They jumped me and my brother before dawn and stole the cattle you have in your yard.’

  ‘Those cattle bear the O’Rourke brand.’ The butcher swept his arm in the direction of the yards. ‘Mr O’Rourke had all the correct paperwork—’

  ‘He’s not an O’Rourke,’ Toby screamed. ‘Me and my brother spent weeks putting that herd together, and those bastards stole it from us.’ He banged his fist on the desk.