Chapter 7

After (early) breakfast, I abandoned a still-sleepy Laura to mum and walked to the horse paddock with my dad. He spoke with several of the hands about the day’s work and asked a stockman for two of the horses to be saddled.

“No chance, eh?” dad asked.

“Sorry, no. But she wouldn’t be right, anyway.”

“Mmmm. Any idea what’s in store in Canberra?”

“Not really. Largely ants. But I’ve discovered that the CSIRO can be unpredictable. How’s the band?”

“They’re good. No one in jail since you were here a few months back. No one’s died. One baby – a boy – born.”

“I’d like to see Jacky, but mum said he’s not around.”

“Ask Meena. I know she hears from him.”

“I will. I want Laura to meet Meena.”

“That’s be fun. Meena’ll tell her about you two scamps terrorizing the area.”

“We weren’t that bad...”

“Tell me about it. Anyway, I’m off to inspect the southeast paddock. I’ll be home in the mid-afternoon.”

“With a crew?”

“Yes. Three of us on Yamahas. We’ll ride east and then south along the creek and then the fence line. Next week, we’ll do the east-west fence.”

“Couldn’t you take Saturday off?”

“If I’m back in the afternoon, it’s a half day. And outside of the milking, tomorrow’s free.”

“Right. I’ll see to the horses.”

“I saw your father ride off on a quad earlier; I’m curious as to why the – uh – station still has horses.”

“Because there are lots of places you can’t drive an ATV. And if there are a bunch of steers, it’s easier to maneuver them quietly from horseback that on a noisy bike.”

“So we’re going to encounter your residents.”

“I’ll say yes. But that’s a tough notion.”

“I suppose so.”

“They were here before my dad bought the property. Their ancestors were here while mine were still painting themselves blue and while yours were Tuscanii or Falerii or Albans.”

“Really?”

“Over 40,000 years. Possibly a lot longer. Britain was first inhabited around 8000 BC; I don’t know about Italy. Probably more recently. But, hey!, here we are!”

Laura looked about.

“Kaya. I see you Steve.”

A man in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt emerged from the brush. “And I see you, Gordy. This your woman?”

“No. A visitor from far away. She has never met an Australian.”

“You’re an Australian, Gordy. Holliman’s Australian, too.”

“May we visit?”

“You know it’s your land. You went to school with my brother.”

“I know we use the land. The land belongs to none.”

“Too true.”

“Laura, this is Steve. Steve, this is Laura. She is from Italy.”

“Italy is in Europe. I learned that in school. Julius Caesar and Columbus and Galileo were from Italy. I greet you, Laura.”

“Hello, Steve.”

“Welcome.”

“We’ll ride ahead. May we?”

“The way is free.”

We rode a bit further. I could tell that Laura was thinking, so I didn’t disturb her. But when we came to a largish clearing, I said “Here we are.”

There were six or eight children sitting on the ground facing old Amos, who must be in his seventies, I thought, and a half dozen adults doing various things. A very large woman in an eye-shattering dress let out a cry and came waddling to us. I got down and helped Laura dismount.

“Gordy! God bless! How are you?”

“I’m just fine, Meena. This is Laura, she’s a student visiting. She’s never met real Australians.”

“Well, I dunno who’s realer ‘n us. You know Jacky ain’t here.”

“Yes. Mum told me he has a job.”

“Workin’ fer a garridge in Toowoomba. Fixin’ up trucks. You still with the Lab?”

“Yes. But they’re moving me from Brisbane to Canberra.”

“That far?”

“About twice as far as Brisbane.”

“Mmm.” Meena looked at Laura. “You studyin’ bugs, too?”

“No. Stories.”

“Amos got lotsa stories. You listen to him.” Meena nodded and went back to the aunties – the mature women of the band.

I tied the horses to an Ivory Curl. “Let’s hear what Amos is saying.” Laura nodded.

Amos was telling about Ngaardi and Toonkoo:

While Toonkoo was out there hunting, he chucked a spear and got a kangaroo. Then he walked a bit further and he looked up and saw Darama, the Great Spirit, up in the sky, watching him. He chucked a spear up to the sky, way up to hit Darama, but Darama caught it, bent it and chucked it back. As it came back it turned into a boomerang. That’s how we got our boomerang.

He was out hunting and he was still wild with Darama, so Darama took him away and put him in the moon. As the moon was coming up, Ngaardi was still crying. But when she saw the moon coming up over the horizon, up over the sea, she looked up into the full moon and there she saw her man, Toonkoo.

She went to the mountain and she laid down. She said to herself that if ever he should come back, I’ll leave my heart on the mountain for him to find. Today, her heart is the red flower we call the Waratah.

“Did you understand?” I asked Laura.

“I think so. It’s what Kipling calls an ‘explain’ story. It tells where the boomerang came from, where the man’s face in the moon came from, and it teaches that a man should not leave his woman, for she will die.”

“You are smart woman, Gordy-fren,” said Amos.

“Day-ee, Amos,” I said. “This is Laura.”

“Who comes from far away.”

“Yes.”

“She is not to be Gordy-woman.”