THE ABANDONED PROPERTY was little more than a sheep paddock, cradled in the shadow of a huge mountain. The fences leaned every which way and a fibro shack, half swallowed by choko vines, looked as though it might fall down any minute. Grey kangaroos grazed peacefully between the house and the front fence. More lay resting under the wide verandah of the house. Beyond that, a creek carved a deep channel through a treeless field. The only sounds were of birds at the creek and the distant bawling of a calf.
Jess watched Luke. His eyes darted from one thing to another, searching for something that might stir a memory. She followed his gaze, over rainwater tanks, sheets of corrugated iron, coils of fencing wire, tubs, broken machinery.
He got out of the ute. Jess let him walk through the gate and across the yard before hopping out herself and following at a distance. The smells of eucalyptus and dry grass filled her nostrils.
‘Look at all this crap,’ Luke said, turning back to her. ‘The place is a junkyard.’
Suddenly he gave a loud mocking laugh. He swore and sank his boot into a tangle of wire that lay strewn across the ground. He kicked over a crate full of empty beer bottles and the sound of their crashing seemed to suddenly fill him with contempt. He laid his boots into everything in his path. Sheets of tin, a stack of old tiles, an oil drum sent rolling, old grease glugging out of it.
Jess stopped the drum and righted it. ‘Stop it, Luke.’
But her words went unheard. He picked up a plank of timber and hurled it against the side of a tin shed. Then he grabbed at anything, bricks, rocks, old bottles, and launched them at the shed, sending loud bangs resonating across the valley.
‘Luke, stop it,’ Jess said again. ‘You’re scaring me!’
Her words halted him abruptly. He drew a long breath and stared fiercely at the house. She saw him fight for control, mouth tight.
Jess stayed quiet.
‘I don’t remember that ugly house,’ he said in a bitter voice as he began to walk towards it. ‘Dad lived here by himself. Why didn’t I live here with him?’ He was ranting. ‘Why wouldn’t a man want his son to live with him? I don’t get it. Look at all the broken fences. I could have helped him. I could have put new walls on that old shed, I could have propped up that old verandah, strained those corner posts . . . ’
He looked at Jess, his eyes whirling. ‘I feel so ripped off.’
He began to walk towards the house. ‘When I turned eighteen this all became mine.’ He stopped and put his hands on his hips. ‘Bit late now. Why didn’t he bring me back here when he was alive? Why’d he even leave it to me at all?’
Jess followed him as he marched to the front door of the house. The verandah sagged dangerously and she leapt back when Luke kicked the door with his boot. It burst open, taking half the architrave with it, and swung limply off one hinge.
‘No need to wreck the joint,’ mumbled Jess, waving a cloud of dust away from her face.
Ignoring her and the dust, Luke stooped and walked in. Jess followed tentatively. The place reeked of rat droppings. The hallway was dark and narrow and ended at a small kitchen. There were still old plates in the sink. Luke stood in the middle of the small room and looked about.
‘I remember Mum in here,’ he said in a voice that was achingly sad.
He turned back to the hallway and peered through a half-opened door. ‘I remember a Christmas tree and a train set made out of timber. I had a train set.’ He was talking mostly to himself, seemingly searching for something that would link him to the place and make solid a vision of a family and a home. He put his shoulder against the door and tried to push it open, but it was barricaded with piles of rubbish.
Luke swore suddenly and Jess saw the thick tail end of a snake slither under a pile of old chaff bags. She swore too and banged against the wall as she turned hastily towards the front door. A chunk of plaster the size of her elbow made a small thud as it fell into the wall cavity, and more critters rustled indignantly.
‘No need to wreck the joint,’ laughed Luke as he clambered out after her. Suddenly everything seemed hysterically funny. ‘See the size of that black snake?’
‘Only the tail end but that was enough for me. And there are rats!’
Luke stopped laughing. ‘I want to go back in and have a proper look around, see if there’s anything good in there.’
‘You do that,’ said Jess. ‘I’m going to see if there’s anywhere to put the horses.’ Dodger and Legsy had been on the float for hours and she was eager to get them off. She was also feeling alienated from this new and unfamiliar Luke. He was being weirdly erratic and for the first time ever she felt a need to be away from him.
‘I want to have a look around the yard too,’ he argued, heading towards what looked like a sheep pen.
The fences were low and blocked in with mesh wire but they were more or less intact and would do for the night. There was knee-high grass, too, which Dodger would appreciate.
‘Wish I’d brought second rugs for them,’ said Jess as she led the horses off the float. ‘It’s so much colder here than at home.’ She was beginning to shiver a bit herself.
‘They’ll be right.’ Luke pointed to the shaggy black silhouette of a horse on a nearby hill. Its head was up and it was staring intently at them. ‘That one’s got no rug and it’s okay.’
‘He’s used to it,’ said Jess. She led the horses to the creek and let them take long, gulping drinks before she closed the gate behind them in the sheep yard. ‘You guys look after each other,’ she said to the two geldings. Dodger immediately started pulling at the grass.
‘We’d better get back to the hotel,’ said Jess, wanting to leave. ‘Mrs Arnold will be looking for us.’
Jess watched Luke still stalking about the yard, seeming disconnected, hearing only something deep inside himself. He stared across the hillside again, past the shaggy black horse. ‘The cemetery’s over the hill there,’ he said in a distant voice. ‘See all the headstones?’
‘No.’ Jess stared across the property but could only see trees. Then she saw just a few small white shapes between them. Gravestones. ‘Yes. I see them.’
Luke started walking.
‘Do you . . . do you want me to come?’
He shook his head and kept walking. She watched him find a crossing over the river and rock-hop across.
The black horse snorted curiously as Luke made his way up the hillside and stood, feet apart and hands by his side at the top, a silhouette against the fading sky. He was still, tall like a statue for a long moment before he started walking again, slowly, and disappeared down the other side.
Jess made her way back to the car. She was freezing. She rummaged around in the back of the ute, pulled an old blanket out of Luke’s swag and shut herself inside the cabin.
It felt so good to lie down along the bench seat and close her eyes, but sleep evaded her. She lay huddled in the blanket, with country tunes murmuring on the radio, thinking of Luke beside his parents’ graves.
It was nearly dark when the driver’s side door opened and Luke got in. He sat, staring out the window across the hillside.
‘Find them?’
He turned, ran a hand along her cheek and nodded, his face unreadable.
‘Okay?’ she whispered.
He didn’t answer, but turned and looked back out the window. Jess took in the fading light, the old house, the soft hills meeting at the foot of the mountain. She imagined blue-eyed horses running wild up there. She thought of a small boy, peering out of the window into the night. He was still the same boy, she realised.
‘We’ve really got to go, Luke,’ she said eventually. ‘Mrs Arnold will be ropeable.’
He nodded again and started the engine.