East of Outback (13 page)

“Unless he was just after cash. If you steal goods you have to sell them. That’s not so easy in a town like this, without being detected. And my uncles don’t have any cash, let alone any valuables.”

“Maybe.” Dizzy sounded totally unconvinced.

Colin felt just as unconvinced, but these men
were
his family. He was almost sure they wouldn’t do such a thing. And because they were family, he would defend them before the world. That’s what family was all about.

A light dawned in Colin’s muddled brain. “What about Flannery? He knows the house; when we’d be below at the mine, my uncles’ ins and outs. And he’s sure not all that fond of me!”

“Eh, maybe.” Dizzy walked on in silence thinking. “Y’know Col, I didn’ say thank you yet for helping me. You’re a dinkum mate. I ‘predate it.”

“I didn’t help you.”

“You wanted to. That means a lot to me. A whole lot. Whether you actually do or not, sometimes tha’s chance. You defended me; tha’s real friendship and I, uh. . . .” He lowered his head. “You know what I mean?”

“Yair, I know. If you don’t get this mine, if you can’t make the offer in time, are you still gunner marry Lily?”

“That ain’ settled yet. First, I hafta be making good ‘nuf money to raise kids. A big ‘sponsibility. Col—kids. Then we see.”

Somehow they drifted toward the rooming house where Lily lived. They spent the rest of the afternoon with her, sitting in the back yard drinking cider she’d made from berries, and reminiscing about the old times and the journey south. Colin was beginning to miss his hulking bay mare terribly.

The three of them ate supper at a little cafe where it was proper for young ladies to be seen. Colin was amused watching the lovebirds. Who could have dreamed of such a match. It made Colin think about who his love would be, and when would she come into his life?

The two left Lily at her house well after dark and then stopped by the Exchange for a drink to mourn Colin’s loss. Dizzy called for a pint of bitters and shouted for Colin’s straight soda. A curious reversal, this; Dizzy with money and Colin with none. And yet their friendship had not suffered the least bit of change. Colin thought of all his fair-weather friends in Sydney who measured friendship in pounds sterling, who were with you or shunned you according to your present financial situation.

He pondered, too, the compelling lure of the pub that brought so many men out every night. Colin leaned both elbows on the bar and tried to figure it out. It couldn’t be the atmosphere, so full of smoke you could slice it. Nor the alcohol, for few men quaffed more than one. Couldn’t be the darts, not that many actually played. It might be the good food, but then not many actually took their meals here.

One of the girls pushed her way between them. She nodded to Diz, to Colin. “Good evening, gentlemen.” Her smile, carefully calculated to dazzle, did just that. “Which of you would be willing to buy a maid a drink?”

Dizzy shuffled his feet and mumbled in an accent much thicker than usual, “Eh, uh, don’ speaka English. Mebbe Col here, eh? He talk good.”

Was that the game? Colin mimicked Dizzy’s fractured speech. “Sí, but he don’ have no money,
comprende
?”

She looked from face to face. “All right, which of you two is bunging on the act? It’s gotta be you!” She smiled at Colin. “You speak the king’s English better than I do, right?”

“Eh, mebbe.” Colin shrugged. He enjoyed this game immensely, but where would Dizzy take it? Colin had no expertise at all in this sort of banter.

She turned to Dizzy. “Say something to me in whatever language it is you speak.”

Dizzy’s crackling black eyes studied hers. He ran a finger down her cheek as his voice breathed in her ear, “
Eh, señorita, corazón, tu tienes un ojo de vidrio. Y la pierna, qué lástima; la pierna es de madera
.”

Whatever he said, it absolutely devastated her. She stood, her mouth agape, her cheeks flushed.

“Is too bad I don’ got no money. Sorry, señorita. Nex’ time mebbe, eh?”

The girl looked from face to face, but dwelt on Diz. “Right-o, mates. Next time.” She left for greener pastures, still glancing back at Dizzy.

Colin moved in closer. “Crikey, Diz! What’d you say to her?”

“Can’ tell you, Col. Too dangerous.”

“Don’t toy with me, mate. What’d you say?”

“No, Col, couldn’ do that to you. I mean, you don’ give no little baby no loaded gun, eh? Might get hisself hurt. You just a kid yet, too young to handle the power.”

“Break it down, Diz. What did you say?”

“Eh, well. . . .” Dizzy hesitated, and the twinkle in his eye threatened to ignite the hardwood. “Careful how you use it now, Col, lad. What I tell her, I said, ‘Eh, sweetheart, you got a glass eye and a wooden leg.’”

______

Rats. The cage was at the bottom of the mine. Colin stood on the decking and studied the knotted rope a few moments. With a sigh, he began hauling it up. Minutes later the cage clanked and swayed to the surface. He tossed in the horse feed and Max’s ration, and stepped in himself. He flicked on his headlamp and began the slow descent into the blackness.

Max’s Lady greeted her breakfast—and presumably Colin—with a delighted whinny. The cage at the bottom meant that either Uncle Liam or Uncle Aidan had already descended. Colin wanted neither of them to know Max was down here, so he tossed the bone and the dog food carelessly into the back of the mare’s stall, and began scratching her ears.

Her scuffs and wounds still were not healing well. They needed sunlight to clear up, not this perpetual night. Colin smeared more petroleum jelly on them and took up his tools. Time to go to work. He descended to the lowest level, hating the closeness, the confinement, the darkness.

He rounded the final, most recent curve of the tunnel, then stopped cold and gasped. In the feeble light of his headlamp he saw Uncle Liam. Either by accident or design, the miner had hacked out a chair-shaped ledge in the drift. He sat sprawled in it now, as a man might sit in his parlor. With a glass in one hand and a bottle in the other he scowled at Colin. “You’re late.”

“Not unless the clock in the kitchen is slow. How long have you been here. Uncle Liam?”

“That’s none of your affair. You should’ve brought the horse. I got a load here. Go get the horse.”

“Yes, sir.” Colin knew the mare wasn’t finished eating yet. How could he give her an extra few minutes? He turned as if to do as he was bidden, then stopped and turned back again. “Uncle Liam? I hate this darkness; it really weighs on me. And you seem to like it. What do you think about, sitting here like this in the blackness?”

“What business is it of yours?”

“Something must draw you to it. Maybe if I find out what’s good about it, I won’t hate it as much.”

“Nothing good about it. But it’s better than up there.” He poured himself another drink and downed half of it. He muttered, “Better than up in the world.”

Colin waited.

Uncle Liam studied the rock wall beyond his nephew. “Not a thing good about it. Your Uncle Aidan up there; now that you know him, what do you think of him?”

“Seems to enjoy fiddling around with books and accounts. Cheerful and friendly, in his way.”

Uncle Liam nodded. “All the qualities of leadership a man needs to be great. There but for an accident of birth walks the Prime Minister of Australia, lad.”

Colin moved in closer and hunkered down, leaning against the tunnel wall opposite. “What do you mean?”

“Your Papa told you how he took over Sugarlea and we came out here. Bet he didn’t tell you the complete truth.”

“He’s never told us anything at all.”

“Don’t blame him a bit. Your Papa was the dinkum son, the lad who could do no wrong. The firstborn and our father’s pet. If there was a favor to be given or a gift bestowed, he got it. Aidan and I got what was left, precious little. His closest flesh and blood, and he gave us leavings. He has much to be ashamed of, I tell you.”

Here was a chance to get some family history. Colin must press carefully, keep Uncle Liam talking. “Where did you grow up?”

“Sydney. He never told you? Aidan and Cole were born at Sugarlea. I was born in Sydney. Your grandmum was quite a society figure in the city. She had all the connections. She could have made quite a nice place for Aidan and me, but she let Father poison her mind against us. Didn’t do a bloody thing for us.”

“And Papa went up to Sugarlea. When? When my grandfather died?”

Uncle Liam drained his glass. His voice was getting louder, thicker. “Your father got the plantation, the office in Sydney—everything. We got nothing. We coulda made something of our lives if we had half the breaks he got. Now there he sits in Sydney, a fine preening bird, while we struggle against dirt and debt in the armpit of Australia. Father’s pet.”

Colin wanted to learn more, so much more. But the tone of Uncle Liam’s voice was turning hostile. Perhaps this was not the best time to pry further into Papa’s past. He hopped to his feet. “I’ll get the horse now.”

“You were supposed to do that already. And you’re late.” His voice got still louder, yet harder to understand. “You know, lad, you’re not a blasted bit better than your old man. You know that? You grew up being the apple of everybody’s eye and now you expect it. Well, around here that’s not gunner be! You toe the mark here like any Chow off the boat. You got that?”

‘Yes, sir.” Colin started to leave.

“Don’t you go prancing off when I’m talking to you, boy! You supposed to have that horse down here already. And you don’t come waltzing in late like everything’s apples.”

“I wasn’t late, sir. I was here by half past six and had tha—”

His voice roared. “Don’t you ever contradict me, Cole!” As he lurched to his feet a cold sliver of fear sliced through Colin’s heart. He had no experience at all dealing with drunks. What would he do to avert trouble? He had no idea.

“I’ll try not to do it again, sir.”

“Quit giving me that ‘sir’ truck. You think you can smooth-talk the way your Papa always did. Say what makes ’em happy. Get all the breaks going your own way. It don’t work here.”

“Yes, sir. I mean, Uncle Liam. I’ll go get the horse.”

Uncle Liam was not to be stayed by words. He moved forward, a pure, raw hatred burning in his eyes.
Why is he turning on me?
Colin wondered.
His fight is with Papa
.

“Neither does your bludging go well here,” he roared. “You need a little discipline. You need to learn life isn’t just pretty presents from your father. Running around the country with hundreds of pounds while your uncles sink into debt.”

Colin sucked in the stale air. “It was you! You stole money from your own blood!”

“Don’t bash Bibles at me, you bloody little wowser! Your father has the scruples of a sewer rat. He robbed us and he’d rob you!”

“That’s not true! And here I thought Flannery took my money.”

Uncle Liam fired three expletives in a row. “Flannery, that Mick! Cole married a Mick; you’re one, too!” Here he came at Colin.

Colin backed up and slammed against the rough-chopped wall. He turned to run, but Uncle Liam’s backhand caught him in the ear and sent him ricocheting against the opposite wall. He threw up his arms for protection, knowing even as he did it that there would be no protection from this raging shicker. He cried out, knowing no one would hear.

Uncle Liam shouted a surprised, gurgling yell. In the uncertain light of Colin’s headlamp beam he slammed backwards, sprawling on the ground. Max, snarling and growling, churned about on top of him.

Colin bolted up the tunnel. He stopped and wheeled. “Max! Come on! Come, Max!” He turned again and ran. If he reached the cage first he could hoist himself up and out of harm’s way.

But his was not the only safety at stake now.

He took the cage instead to the upper level, to Max’s Lady. He untied the startled horse and led her out of her black stall. The tunnel ceilings were far too low; he could never ride her in here without braining himself. Leading her, he urged her to a trot and turned down into the side drift that he hoped would lead him below; the shortcut. Or was it? He still became confused in this rat’s maze. What if he were running right into Uncle Liam?

Reaching the lowest level by means of drifts and adits took a while. It also took knowing the correct ones. Finally Colin reached what he hoped was the lowest level, the confused horse jogging behind.

The light from his headlamp bobbed and whipped about ahead of him. The constantly shifting shadows made him nauseous—or perhaps the truth was making him sick. His own uncles! Then he realized he was sobbing. Fiercely he brushed the tears out of his eyes.
You’re a man Colin! Act like one
.

He stopped suddenly. Before him lay not a T but a chickenfoot, not two ways to go but three as he left this side drift. Why had he never noticed the other tunnel? He looked at the ground; it told him nothing. No sledge scrapes or footprints hinted at the path to take.

“Max! There you are!”

The brindled dog trotted past him and continued right on down another drift. That particular tunnel would not have been Colin’s first choice. He followed, though, having no better suggestion of his own. They came shortly upon the rope strung across the tunnel. Max trotted under it and on into the darkness beyond.

The Hard Yakka mine. Colin undid the rope enough to let the horse step over and led her forward, out of the Southern Star, into the absolute unknown.

Did Uncle Liam know his way around the Hard Yakka? Probably. Could he negotiate it in his present drunken condition? Possibly. The cool, clammy walls closed in even tighter here. A stale, musty odor like moldy furniture hung in the blackness. “Max? Where are you?”

He could detect the dog prints in the powdered dirt ahead. Actually, there were many dog prints, going in both directions. Max had been this way before, more than once. Colin stopped. Max’s tracks disappeared down a side drift far too narrow for his Lady. Now what? Colin had no choice. He called to Max down the side tunnel and led the horse forward, straight ahead.

Then Max was behind them again, panting slightly. He trotted past Colin, past his Lady and continued ahead. How much did the wise old dog grasp of the situation?