FIFTEEN

The radio in the kitchen fizzed and Reg Evans’s voice filled the room. Dad knew Reg was meant to be arriving at the station that day, so we were all waiting to hear the rumble of their truck and the utes and bull catchers. When Reg radioed and we heard him say, “Reg Evans to Timber Creek—you read me, Timber Creek? Over,” we all cheered. That made him laugh. He said he reckoned there weren’t many places in the Territory where you got a welcome like that. Dad said they’d sink a few cold ones when Reg and the fellas arrived. Reg laughed and said he reckoned he’d be ready to blow the froth off a couple.

When we heard the truck horn honk twice and then give a much longer belch, we knew Reg and the fellas had arrived. We all ran outside to see them. A cloud of dust surrounded them as they pulled into the station. The farm dogs chased after the wheels on the bull catchers as they drove into the yard and skidded to a stop, like they were giving a show, or something. Dad went over and shook Reg’s hand. Reg gave Mum a kiss on the cheek and said it was good to see her. I guess he knew Jonny wouldn’t be there—I dunno if Mum and Dad told him, or if he’d just heard on the bush telegraph. Either way, no one said anything about Jonny. I guess it was just easier that way. He pretended to give me a dead arm and then picked Emily up, turned her upside down and pretended to drop her. She giggled like crazy. He nodded at Sissy. There was no way he could lift her up, her belly was way too big by then. I dunno if anyone had told Reg about Sissy and the baby before he arrived at the station. Sissy looked embarrassed and stared at the ground the whole time. Reg tipped his baseball cap at Bobbie next—he remembered her from the year before, but he’d never met the Pommie. Dad explained who she was and Reg said, “You’re a long way from home out here then? You finding it OK?” The Pommie said she reckoned she could handle life on the station—like it was the easiest thing she’d ever done.

Reg nodded, smiled, and then pointed at his mob of fellas. He said, “Well, this is Rick Smith.” Rick said g’day. He was about Dad’s height, but had fair hair and real brown skin. He tipped his hat at us all and I saw the scar he had on his cheek. I dunno how he got it. Then Reg pointed at Ed and Spike Barron—they were brothers. They both said g’day. They were about the same age as Lloyd and Elliot, and while Spike had a happy expression all the time, Ed looked like he was thinking too hard. They were both taller than anyone else I’d ever met. The Pommie and Bobbie grinned like idiots. Lloyd and Elliot shook hands with the fellas too. Reg lifted a box of VB beer out of the back of his bull catcher and handed it to Dad. Dad smiled and said it was just what the doctor ordered.

It was real noisy at the station that night. There were so many people, all talking and laughing. It felt a bit like a party. We had dinner in the garden. We’d taken the tables out to make room for everyone. It was nice, even the mosquitoes didn’t spoil it. Everyone was thinking and talking about the muster. Dad said he wanted to make sure it went smoothly. He said, “I don’t want to have to shoot any cattle because they’ve got stressed in the races.” That’s when the Pommie said the stupidest thing. She said, “I thought the idea of mustering was to catch the cattle, not race them.” There was a moment when no one said anything at all, like we were all trying to work out what the hell she was talking about. It was Reg who started howling first. He laughed so hard he began to choke. Mum was so concerned about him she got up, ready to whack him on the back. The Pommie just sat there, looking embarrassed, but not knowing what she’d said that was so funny.

Once he’d calmed down a bit Reg took out his tobacco tin from under his tattered cap. Seeing those leathery hands delicately make a durry made me think of Dad, before Jonny died, when he sometimes played the piano. Reg lit the durry, took a drag, and picked a stray bit of tobacco off his lip.

Liz’s face was blank. I ignored her at first. She was being such a dumb Pommie, I couldn’t be bothered with her, but then she looked at me like I should help her so I explained that the races are the narrow walkways we use to guide the cattle from the yards onto the road train, when they’re being trucked. I don’t think she understood, so I said it wasn’t an actual race—we didn’t care which cow was fastest. The Pommie pretended to understand.

If I was the Pommie, I’d have kept quiet after that. I’d have just got on with clearing the plates, or something, but she didn’t. She started asking all kinds of questions about how we decided which cows to truck and which ones to set free. She wanted to know how we could tell if we’d mustered them all, what happened if we went out to muster and there weren’t any cattle there. She was pretty clueless when it came to how a cattle station worked. I don’t think Reg minded; he and the fellas were real patient, answering all her questions. Mum wasn’t happy. After a bit she said the Pommie could go out with the fellas one day to see what the muster was like for herself, but then she added, “Right now, we need to get these plates cleared.” Even the Pommie wasn’t too dumb to take that hint.

I guess Reg had had enough muster talk because he tapped me on the shoulder and said, “So what’s this about you having a camel to break in, Danny?” I felt a bit shy then, like when you want to say something, but don’t because you’re scared someone will take the piss out of you. I just said, “We’ve got a way to go before I’ll be able to ride him,” like Buzz was more trouble than he was worth. Reg knew more about me and Buzz than I expected. He said, “Sounds like you’re making good progress though. Elliot reckons you’ve got the camel eating out of your hand.”

I looked round and everyone was listening to me and Reg—wanting to hear what I thought. I felt this big smile fill my cheeks, like when I shoved too much food into my mouth. I said he could come and see Buzz if he wanted. That’s when Reg told me about this place down near Uluru. He called Ayers Rock that, just like the Blackfellas. He said he’d been mustering at a station down there, when he met a fella who kept camels and made good money at it. Reg said this fella had a whole bunch of them, all broken in and easy to ride, and that he used them to take tourists on desert safaris. They didn’t go anywhere special, just to see what the desert was like—for fun. Reg said I should ask Dad to take me down to meet that fella, to find out how it was done. He said it could be a money spinner. He reckoned I could be the first Dawson millionaire.

I looked at Dad to ask if we could go, but his eyes didn’t meet mine. He looked down at the ground, kicked at the dirt, then looked up at my chest and smiled. “We’ll see, Danny,” he said. I reckoned it would cost a lot of money to go all the way to Uluru—and who’d look after the station?

The fellas watched the Pommie clearing the table, like they were waiting for her to drop a plate, or something. Then Mum told Emily and me it was time for bed—in front of all the fellas, and Liz, like I was a little kid. It was embarrassing, and I was going to say something, but Dad knew I’d kick off, so he stared at me, with his don’t you dare—not if you want to stay out at stock camp look. So I just said good night and went quietly.