Authors: Adrian Hyland
Moonlight Downs (31 page)
As far as I could tell.
Which, given that he had a ton of granite where seconds before he’d had a head, wasn’t all that far. His heels tattooed the earth in a fierce little reflex action, then went still. He hadn’t even had time to scream.
I studied his boots for a moment. ‘Bullshit I missed.’
I STAGGERED back to where Hazel lay gazing out into the crazy topography of Karlujurru, still whisper-singing.
‘He’s finished,’ I said.
She turned round to look up at me. ‘I know.’
‘Just like your painting. An avalanche.’
‘Not surprised.’
I knelt beside her, tore a strip off her shirt and tried to improve the bandage I’d fashioned.
‘So what do we do now, Haze?’
‘Dunno,’ she shrugged. ‘Whatever happens, it’ll be okay. You know the trouble with you, Em?’
‘Lot of troubles with me, Haze. Take your pick.’
‘You worry too much.’ She studied me for a moment and smiled.
Nice to be so positive, I thought. Miles from nowhere, buggered and battered and bruised beyond belief, no water and you’ve got a bullet in you. I closed my eyes as the terrors and tremors of the last few hours welled up inside me, colliding with my consciousness.
My head spun, my body felt like it was giving in to the chorus of torments inflicted upon it of late. The world went black.
‘Jesus H. Christ!’
A rough male voice. How long had I been out for? I put a hand to my head, opened my eyes, tried to focus.
The first thing I saw was Camel, standing in front of me. Next to him was Earl Marsh, a gun in his hands, his face as blistered and burnt as ever beneath the sinister shades.
Evidently it was Marsh who’d spoken. He was looking up at where Sweet’s body was oozing out from under the rock. Camel followed his gaze and his eyes narrowed viciously.
Shit, I thought. Will this never end? ‘Mr Marsh,’ I croaked, ‘I hope I’ve completely misjudged you.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I don’t feel up to another fight.’
Another voice, a familiar one, came from behind me. ‘Don’t think that’ll be necessary, Emily.’
I turned my head around to see Jojo kneeling beside Hazel, patching her up, a first aid kit on the ground beside him. She was sitting up and smiling. Down near the burning Hino I noticed a helicopter, its rotors still turning slowly.
‘Hello Jojo. Might have known you’d turn up—me flaked out and damn near naked. How are you, Hazel?’
‘In good hands, I reckon.’
‘Eh? Don’t go gettin too attached to em. Thanks, Jojo.’
‘Don’t thank me. Thank Earl here.’
‘Thank you, Earl.’ Marsh nodded uncomfortably. I turned back to Jojo. ‘What am I thanking
him
for?’
‘Bringing us out here.’
‘And what inspired you to do that, Mr Marsh?’
‘You got me thinking, with all your talk about drillin out here. I knew
I
hadn’t, but some bugger had. Thought I knew who. I’d been worrying all along there was something suspicious about the way he died.’
‘Mr Marsh, I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. The way who died?’
‘Snowy.’
‘Snowy?’
‘Snowy Truscott.’
‘Who the fuck is…’ But the answer came to me even as I asked the question. My old man’s late driller mate, the beneficiary of the Green Swamp cricket testimonial.
‘They tried to tell me he left the hook off his winch,’ Marsh continued. ‘Tangled his wheels, rolled the rig. I went an took a look at the wreck. No way Snow’d do that. Done a dozen jobs for me over the years. Knew him as a kid in Winton. Most efficient feller I ever seen. Treated his equipment better than he treated his missus. An he treated her all right, which I oughta know, seein as she’s me sister.’
‘Snowy Truscott was your brother-in-law?’
‘Course he was,’ Marsh said gruffly.
‘Of course.’
‘“Who’d wanner do that to old Snow?” I asked meself. I was talkin to him a few days before he died. Said he had some big job comin up, all very hush-hush, top dollar. But then he let on it were for the South African feller. Wasn’t till you accused me of drilling on Moonlight that I twigged. Spotted em out here a coupla times when I was checkin me cattle. Figured they must a found somethin…’
‘Oh, they found something all right.’ I looked at Jojo, who was coming over to check out the bullet nick in my side. ‘And you, Thunderbird 3. You just happened to be out on routine chopper patrol when your telepathic headset picked up my distress signal…’ ‘I was in the cop shop,’ Jojo interjected, ‘following up on last night’s intruder, when this rather indignant call from Earl came in.’
‘Indignant?’ Marsh retorted. ‘You blame me?’
‘Apparently you and him had just had a little discussion out on the Jalyukurru track.’
Marsh frowned. ‘Dunno if discussion’s the word I’d use… Anyway, when I told your friend the ranger about that South African arsehole, he got the idea in his scone that you might both be on the loose out here. He was…persuasive I ought to come back out’n warn you.’ He glanced sideways at Jojo. ‘Didn’t expect the airborne cavalry to turn up as well.’
Jojo blushed. ‘I think you know Emily, don’t you Mr Marsh? What were the odds there was going to be trouble?’
Marsh looked down at the burning truck, then up at the fallen boulder. ‘Trouble all right. Shoulda warned them instead,’ he said with a shake of the head.
An abrupt spasm of grief wrenched at my gut. Should have warned those poor old buggers back at the camp, I thought. Turned my face into Jojo’s shoulder.
‘Anyway, Mung Bean here,’ Marsh went on, jerking a thumb at Camel, who I noticed had a few fresh bruises added to the collection Blakie had left him, ‘has been most obligin. Course he owed it to me, after what his fuckin rotties did to me cattle.’
I cleared my throat. ‘I was gonna mention that if I ever saw you again. Figured it out, did you?’
He frowned. ‘You havin a go at me?’
‘Christ Earl, loosen up a bit, will you?’
He scowled at me, then what might have been a smile on other faces rumbled through the granite.
I tried to stand, but things were swimming out of focus.
‘Jojo?’
‘Yep?’
‘How’d you get a chopper?’
‘Mate in the charter business. Name’s Jason.’
‘Jojo?’
‘Yep?’
‘I think I’m gonna pass out again.’
Which I duly did. But even as I was spiralling southwards, I caught a glimpse of a translucent image: me and Hazel, together on Moonlight Downs, walking along in a kind of waking dream.
Springs of rushlit water washed to rainbow ford.
Somewhere above us a dove was singing.
My first and greatest acknowledgment is to the Indigenous people of Central Australia. Sitting and singing around camp fires, trudging along sandhills, bouncing around the back of a hundred rusty utes, you shared with me your lives and struck the sparks that have grown into this book.
I would also like to express my gratitude to:
My agents, Mary Cunnane and Cressida Hall, for dragging me out of the slush pile and giving me their ongoing support.
Mandy Brett, my editor, for her cleverness, commitment and the occasional kick in the arse.
The rest of the mob at Text, for their faith in my work.
Liam Davidson and Sydney Smith, for valuable advice on earlier versions of the manuscript.
Many thanks also to Jane Simpson, Gabe Markovics, Jenny Green, David Nash, David Alexander, Robbie Henderson, Paul Ubinger, Suzie Carr, Shane Maloney, Robyn Yucel, John Wolseley, Bill McCann and Chris Quigley.
A special thank you to my beautiful girls, Kristin, Sally and Siena. Even when I was scribbling away in my study, you were never far from my thoughts.
