As the week drew to a close, Jeremy decided to head into town for some serious partying. He left in the early afternoon on Friday, taking the time to drop in to the kitchen to wish a stony-faced Olive a personal farewell.
‘Don’t lie awake worrying about me, Mrs Day. I’m a big boy now.’ He flexed his muscular arms at her and grinned before bounding out the door, whistling at the cockatoo as he thudded down the veranda steps.
It was the first weekend since he’d been employed at the station that Jeremy had gone to town, and the three Redstoners all found themselves thinking how quiet it was without him. None of them admitted it out loud, and the word Olive used to describe it to herself was ‘peaceful’. But they all realised that in the short time he’d been at Redstone, Jeremy had somehow become an important part of the place. By Sunday, Sam was eagerly awaiting his return, and even Olive was feeling more kindly towards the useful larrikin.
In the early hours of Monday morning the roar of an unfamiliar engine shattered the pre-dawn tranquillity of Redstone. It wasn’t his ute but Jeremy was driving. He swerved and pulled up roughly near the big old house; as he did so, there was a woody clunk in the back, followed by a groan.
‘Yep, that’ll be his head,’ he told himself brightly. He bounced up onto the dark veranda like an excited schoolboy and yelled, ‘Surprise! Rise and shine!’
A tirade of indignant muttering issued forth from under the navy-blue-and-white-striped flannelette cover on the tall birdcage. King Henry the Ninth had been rudely awoken and was highly affronted.
Seconds later the veranda light came on and Alice appeared in her cotton pyjamas. ‘Jeremy, you’re not doing yourself any favours by—’
‘Not so fast, Ali Baba, not so fast. Check out what I found on the side of the road.’ He nodded towards the dented ute stopped on the edge of the veranda light, its huge spotlights reflecting beams back at them.
‘That’s not your ute,’ Alice said suspiciously. Then, seeing the bunch of dingo scalps drying on the kangaroo rack, she added, ‘It belongs to the travelling shooter Pa gets when he’s in the area.’
‘Fair dinkum? You mean Sam lets him come here? That useless piece of pig bait?’
‘Maurie always rings to let us know before and after he’s been. Pa says he does a good job.’
‘Too bloody true! Have a squiz at what’s in the back.’
Jeremy followed Alice as she walked tentatively over to the vehicle and leaned in to look past the empty dog cage. Lying on his side, looking up at her, arms and legs tied together with rope, was Maurie the shooter. He was wedged between the tailgate and one of two clean-skin calves that were tied in a similar fashion. Alice gave a little squeal and jumped backwards.
‘That one drew the short straw,’ said Jeremy, indicating the calf that was pressed against Maurie. ‘Your shooter here don’t smell so good. What do you think of my catch?’
‘Pa will be so upset!’ Alice sounded shocked. ‘I’m glad you caught him though.’
Jeremy enthusiastically accepted the praise. ‘That saying’s so true – you know, the one about getting your biggest catch when you ain’t even hunting? I usually use it for women, but it applies in this case too.’ He laughed at his own joke but Alice was frowning distractedly.
‘What is it now?’ barked Olive, striding out onto the veranda.
King Henry the Ninth began clearing his throat. Olive had taken the time to don her floral dressing gown and put a hairnet over her curlers.
‘Where’d you spring from, Curly?’ Jeremy greeted her. ‘We’re just admiring the roadkill here.’
‘Roadkill?’
‘Well, he’s not completely dead . . . yet. He might even be well enough to appreciate all the effort you’ve gone to with your appearance.’ He grinned and Olive flushed angrily.
‘Whatever it is, you had better hope it’s worth waking the household over. I told Sam to stay in bed. He’s been having a terrible night with his back. And as I expected it’s nothing important, just you coming home from a drunken orgy.’
‘I don’t think you wanna use that word no more, m’lady. It don’t mean what it did in your day.’
‘Oh, shut up!’ Olive had lost her cool and the cockatoo was beginning to cough.
‘Righto then.’ Jeremy held up his hands. ‘Just trying to save you from future embarrassment. And I s’pose if this isn’t important, I’ll just untie our furry poddy-dodging friend and let him drive away. Shall I get the calves out of the back first?’
‘Get me out of here, you bastards!’ A forlorn plea came from inside the shadow of the ute tray.
Olive’s eyes widened. ‘I’ll go and get Samuel.’
‘No rush, he ain’t going nowhere.’ Jeremy chuckled as Olive hurried back inside.
He looked at Alice. In the dim light her messy hair reminded him of a bird’s nest. Or a halo. He could see the imprint of a fold of linen on her cheek, and the slight silvery trace of a bit of saliva. He wanted to kiss her, she was so beautiful. But instead he said, ‘You wanna take a leaf out of your old ma’s book. She must’ve learned at finishing school, you gotta check your face for dribble before rushing outside after a sleep.’
‘Very funny.’ Alice felt around her mouth for the telltale line.
‘Here, let me help you.’ From his pocket Jeremy produced a filthy checked hanky with a J embroidered on it and spat on the corner.
‘You come near me with that and I’ll clobber you!’ Alice backed away with her fists up.
‘What, I got germs or something?’
‘Probably. How do I know what you’ve been kissing over the weekend?’
Jeremy detected a note of genuine disgust in Alice’s voice and it stung him. She turned and walked away towards the door to meet Sam who had finally surfaced. The old man was half bent over with his hand on his lower back.
‘Fuzzy’s in for it now,’ Jeremy said, his tone foreboding.
‘Are you drunk, Jeremy?’ Sam asked, pain from his back sounding in his voice.
‘No, Sam.’
‘Good lad. Tell me what’s going on.’
Jeremy explained, loudly enough so the captive in the back of the ute could hear it all too. Driving home in the starlight, with only his ute’s parking lights to illuminate the road, Jeremy had encountered Maurie coming from the opposite direction. They had met on a bend and the edgy Maurie had swerved, overcorrected and then locked up his wheels on the bulldust. ‘Damaged the poor old-man ironbark,’ Jeremy concluded.
‘So what then?’ Sam asked.
Jeremy went on and Sam’s expression became increasingly grave at the description of what had been discovered in the back.
‘I could have told you he was a bad bugger if you’d mentioned it to me,’ Jeremy said gently. ‘It’s pretty common knowledge around town.’
‘Maybe among your associates,’ Olive said defensively, taking Sam’s arm.
‘So the whole time . . .’ Sam left the sentence unfinished.
‘I think you’ll notice an improvement in your calving rate from now on.’
Sam hobbled slowly over to the ute and looked down at Maurie sorrowfully. Jeremy could see that he was more upset about having to lower his opinion of someone he’d trusted and liked than about the crime committed against him.
‘Soft old codger,’ he thought to himself. ‘If they were my calves I’d wanna snig the bloke out back and chuck him down the well.’
‘What shall we do with him?’ As always, Olive was was concerned with the practicalities.
‘Morning’s not far off. And the stock squad should be here by lunchtime. I say leave him where he is,’ suggested Jeremy.
‘Sam, get me out of here! I swear I won’t cause any trouble. Please!’ Maurie begged in his reedy wail, staring pleadingly at Sam.
But it was Jeremy who answered him. ‘Things have changed round here, Fuzzy Chops. Not everyone on the place is in bed by seven thirty anymore. Hell, I’m so unreliable you could find me on the road at any time of night. Especially if I’ve been entertaining a lady. And as you saw for yourself, my headlights are dodgy, so I’ll see you long before you see me.’
‘It won’t happen again, I swear! I’ll never set foot on the place again. No need to dob a man in, is there? Just get me out of this agony!’ Maurie appealed to Jeremy this time.
‘I wouldn’t piss on ya if you were burning, mate.’ Jeremy turned to the others and continued, ‘I reckon we’ll leave him here to do a bit of penance. Give him a gutful of his own medicine.’
‘Nooooo!’ Maurie strained on the rope.
There was a short silence. ‘He can’t stay in that position for too much longer,’ Alice observed compassionately.
Taking up the suggestion, Jeremy asked Maurie, ‘Would you like a change of position, mate? You’ve done the calf thing – I could hang you like a roo from your rack? I’d scalp you if I could get ten bucks for your fluff. But I don’t think anyone’d be keen.’
‘Please, Alice, I’m dying here.’ Maurie made his best puppy-dog eyes at her.
But Jeremy answered again. ‘While you’re there, Fuzz, you can think about how many poddies you’ve lifted from a trusting old stick that was doughy enough to believe you were doing him a favour.’
‘I’m sorry!’ Maurie groaned.
Then, looking at Alice’s troubled face, Jeremy unexpectedly produced his pocket knife and cut the old piece of rope that was binding Maurie’s ankles. Next he swung the weedy little man onto his feet. Maurie tottered there for a moment before crumpling to the ground with what looked like a severe attack of pins and needles.
King Henry the Ninth was coughing in earnest now. Maurie looked around for the source of the rattling cough, and his eyes rested disbelievingly on the covered birdcage. The coughing episode reached its climax at last and the phlegm was brought up. Silence fell again. The Redstone folk were all still looking down at Maurie. He looked pathetically weak and thin, his moth-eaten whiskers sticking out on each side of his face.
‘What’re you doing with all that stolen meat anyway, Fuzz?’ Jeremy asked. ‘Not eating it yourself, that’s for sure. Need a good worming, I reckon.’
‘No! Please!’ Maurie looked up from where he was still writhing on the ground as the blood returned to his constricted limbs.
‘What?’ Jeremy laughed incredulously. ‘You think I’d waste a dose on you when there are useful animals around that need it?’
Before Maurie’s pain had completely subsided, Jeremy marched him over to the shipping container next to the shed, used for the storage of dry feed and other matter that needed to be protected from moisture and marauding mice. Untying his wrists, Jeremy deposited the unhappy man roughly onto some empty bags and paused for a moment before closing him in. ‘Stock squad’ll be here after a bit, old mate. Best get some rest. Build up ya strength. Although there’ll be plenty of time for that once you’re inside.’
Just before Jeremy banged the heavy door shut, excluding the dawn light, he caught a final glimpse of the poddy dodger. Maurie looked so completely down and out: Jeremy horrified himself by feeling a fleeting pang of something like pity.
They let Maurie go at midday. He was babbling and falling over himself with gratitude that they hadn’t called the cops.
‘Get going, you snivelling idiot,’ Jeremy said disgustedly. Out of respect for Sam, he’d become more creative with his insulting names and curses since coming to Redstone. ‘We’ll take care of our own vermin from now on. Including you, if you ever show your whiskers round here again.’
They stood and watched him drive away.
‘What goes around comes around,’ said Olive decidedly. ‘He’ll have to pay for his wrongdoing one day.’
‘Yeah – today,’ said Jeremy. ‘The little nest egg he had in his glove-box will do nicely.’
They all stared in amazement as he produced a thick roll of cash from his chest pocket.
‘Well, I suppose that will cover the cost of some of the calves he stole,’ said Olive doubtfully, clearly trying to work out whether Jeremy had been right or wrong in taking it.
‘You’re joking, aren’t ya?’ Jeremy exclaimed. ‘This is my commission. I’ll be using some of it to wine and dine Alice on Valentine’s Day.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ said Olive as they walked inside for lunch.
Alice buttered the bread while her grandmother carved the corned beef. Then the older woman looked up at her and spoke ominously. ‘I’ll need you in the office after lunch. Remember, the bank manager’s coming Wednesday week and I want us to be ready for him.’
Jeremy piped up, ‘While we’re making bookings, Alice, can I borrow you for a bit this evening?’
‘What for?’ Alice and her grandmother asked in unison.
‘Ladies, ladies, keep your cottontails on! I just need a lift to my ute. And a drum of fuel. The needle had been below empty for quite a while when I ran into old Fluff Balls. He saved my, er, skin. Would’ve been a long walk home. Poor fella will never know.’
‘The Lord works in mysterious ways,’ Sam chuckled.