FOLLOW THE MORNING STAR (23 page)

Soon voices were heard outside and the door burst open. Two young girls came in but stopped in shock when they saw Queenie, who was equally surprised at their appearance. These were not the fierce abductors she had expected but two young and unusually dressed Aboriginal girls of mixed blood. One had curly hair tied up on top of her head and wore large red hoop earrings; the other had wild frizzy hair and wore a long T-shirt hand-painted with bright sunflowers. They looked about fifteen. Following them was a large fairskinned Aboriginal woman who stopped and stood looking at Queenie.

‘We weren’t expectin’ company for dinner.’ She was a solid build with grey sprinkled through the dark waves of her hair; her eyes were brown and deep-set. She wore a loose fitting floral dress, a sleeveless cotton vest over it and worn, comfortable looking tennis shoes with baggy white socks. She stared hard at Queenie, trying to sum her up.

Queenie rose to her feet and met her gaze. ‘I wasn’t expecting to be hit on the head and forced in here.’

The woman swung around to Zero and Ado. ‘You hit this woman?’

‘We didn’t know it was a woman, she looked like she was breakin’ in. We jist jumped her;
she had a gun, we thought it was someone dangerous.’

‘Where’s the gun?’

A remorseful looking Ado pointed to the corner; Zero looked guilty but still slightly defiant. The woman marched to the corner, grabbed the rifle, swiftly unloaded the magazine and tossed the rifle to Queenie. ‘I’ll keep the bullets for the minute. I’m Auntie Maud and I’m responsible for this mob. Righto everyone, light a few more lamps, get your gear into the bedrooms — girls to the left, boys to the right — and bring some water from the tank to wash with. Food ready, Zero?’

She spoke with military precision and the four youngsters hopped to it like they’d been kicked. Auntie Maud sat down at the table. ‘Sorry about them springing on you like that. Zero’s a bit hot-headed. You all right?’

‘I think so. I’m Queenie Hamilton. I was following what I thought were the tracks of my stolen cattle but they’re obviously not here . . . not now anyway. I reckon they were though. I also thought this place was abandoned.’

“Tis. We’re just bunking down here the night, then we move on to a camping ground we use a couple of k’s away. I have permission from the local police constable to overnight here.’

‘Are you a family?’

Auntie Maud grinned. ‘Of sorts.’

‘Where are you all from?’

‘The streets. A few months ago all these kids were wandering around the streets of Sydney’s Kings Cross. Runaways, on the run
from authority, families — such as they were — and life.’

‘What are you doing out here? Still running?’

‘Nope, chasing something mebbe. You’re wondering why there isn’t a bloke around. Well, you don’t know Auntie Maud; I can manage this lot with one hand tied behind me back, isn’t that so?’ she challenged two of the kids who reappeared in the kitchen. ‘Get the others and start dishing up, Raylene.’

She turned her attention back to Queenie. ‘I’ll tell you what we’re on about. These kids’ve all been in trouble. Before they can start to put their lives together they have to learn who they are. And that’s my job. They’re Koories first and foremost and they have to learn to be proud of that. So I bring groups out here to a property the Land Council bought, and teach ’em what their heritage is all about — how to live off the land and what the spirits mean. They have to learn some of the old ways ’cause by learning how to survive out here and with each other, they’re learning more than they realise. And hopefully it will help them build new lives. We’re on a pretty tough walkabout that ends with a camp. We go for a couple of weeks.’

‘It sounds a wonderful idea. Does it work? I mean, do they go back changed or go back to their old lives? How many of these have you done?’ Queenie was genuinely interested.

‘I’ve done quite a few. We generally try to place the kids in jobs in the country or back in the city through our connections. People are
starting to trust us more and will give kids a chance if they’ve been out with Auntie Maud.’

‘You must be a special lady. I’d like to hear your story.’

As the group dished up their meal on tin camp plates and settled round the table, Maud held up her hand for silence. ‘Whose turn?’ The girl in the sunflower T-shirt shyly raised her hand. ‘Off you go then, Raylene.’

They all bowed their heads as she softly spoke, ‘We offer thanks to the spirits of our mother earth who gives us food and nourishes our spirit and watches over us’. And with that they all began digging into the stew and passing the damper.

‘Now I’ll tell you my story. My mother was a full-blood from the Hunter Valley. My father was white, never knew ’im though. There was four of us kids; I was the youngest. Then came a terrible day when the white men came with a nun from the mission and they took us kids away. I can remember how they pushed my mother aside and how she cried out in her language not to take her children away. Well, we kids was sent away to different places and never saw each other or our mother again. I was in the mission till I was old enough to be sent to a girls’ school down south to train as a servant for white people. I hated it but I was clever and worked hard and was put in service. I managed to save a little bit of money over the years along with what the Aboriginal Protection Board banked for me. I worked damned hard, doing the work of three, but them nuns always taught us that hard work never hurt
no one. I was honest and the women I worked for trusted me but as soon as I figured I had enough money I ran away.’ Auntie Maud paused and ate heartily. Queenie ate also, saying nothing, knowing the story would be resumed.

After clearing the plates and chatting with the youngsters for a while, Maud turned to Queenie again. ‘Well, I went back to the town near our land and I found some of my people who took me and taught me about the old ways. I know the white ways and I know some of the traditional laws and customs, though there’s secret stuff women never know, but I get on in both worlds and feel richer for it.

‘I got a job and ended up in Sydney and more and more I kept coming across koori kids with mixed up lives, so I got people to help and I set up a sort of safe house in the bad part of the city. Kids find their way there and we try to straighten ’em out. I wish I could get hold of more of them kids before they get sent to prison. They don’t need gaol, they’re only in there ’cause they got drunk or got in a fight or for petty theft ’cause they needed a feed or grog. They’re not hardened criminals. If they’d give ’em to Auntie Maud instead of tossing ’em in the slammer where they get the heebie-jeebies and do stupid things, we’d all be better off.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ said Queenie. ‘It’s really great what you’re doing.’

‘Look out, she’ll put the bite on you for somethin’,’ said Zero and they all laughed.

‘I reckon you could help me out one day. We
need help in all sorts of ways — jobs, donations. Give me your address and I’ll get in touch with you. You seem like a lady that’d keep a promise.’ Auntie Maud smiled at Queenie. ‘You help me and I’ll help you. I reckon I know where your cattle might be.’

Chapter Sixteen

The sleek black chauffeur-driven limousine glided through the large white main gates of Guneda and cruised past the first of the lush green paddocks where valuable bloodstock grazed behind white railings. A small white sign was lettered
Office
while another pointed in the opposite direction to
Laboratory and Veterinarian.

The driver looked over his shoulder to the two men in the back. ‘The house or the office?’

‘Office.’

The office of Guneda Stud was a neat new building, a small replica of a classic bush cottage with narrow front verandah, corrugated bull-nosed roof and fly-screened door and windows.

The men, dressed in business suits, had city written all over them. They stepped onto the verandah as Mick opened the screen door and greeted the two strangers. ‘G’day.’

‘Morning. The boss here?’

‘Afraid not. Can I help?’

They looked at the small Aborigine, wondering about his status. ‘You in charge?’

‘Yes. Were you looking for a horse?’ Mick took a stab in the dark, curious as to what this pair with the heavy accents wanted.

‘Not really. We have a horse. We want him trained good.’

Mick grinned. ‘Then you’ve come to the right place. Come inside the office and let me tell you about Guneda.’

‘Oh we know about this place,’ replied Tony Cuomo following him inside. ‘We know TR Hamilton’s reputation.’

Mick waved them to two chairs and sat on the lounge. ‘Unfortunately TR’s had a bit of an accident. Tango has just left to do some business in town for a few days, then he’s going to Tingulla to see him, but he’ll be back in a week or so. Tango is running this place now. So, tell me about your horse.’ Mick looked from one to the other.

Cuomo did the talking. ‘We have a sprinter that’s won a bit here and there. We think he’s capable of better things. We’d like to bring him here.’

‘Where is he?’ Mick wondered about the limousine. They didn’t look like the sort of horse people he was familiar with.

‘Tamworth.’

‘We’d have to have a look at him, let you know what we think of him. Don’t want to mislead you if he hasn’t got what it takes, as far as we can tell anyway,’ said Mick.

‘We understand. Can we have a bit of a look around, get an idea of the place?’

‘Sure, I’ll give you a tour and, here, take these with you,’ Mick lifted a brochure off a shelf and handed it to Cuomo. ‘You fellows from Tamworth?’

‘No. We’ll provide all the necessary information when we send the horse over.’

The men stood, Mick shrugged, picked up his hat and the keys to the LandCruiser. ‘Right, follow me.’

As they drove towards the main stables, passing the breeding barns and foaling boxes, Mick tried to find out more about their horse, but they were reticent about giving details. This didn’t worry Mick, if someone thought they had a hot horse they might like to keep it quiet. It didn’t occur to him these men might not know a gelding from a billy goat.

After touring Guneda the men prepared to leave. ‘Um,’ asked Mick, ‘who’s the owner? What name shall I tell Tango?’

‘The horse is called . . . er,’ Cuomo turned to the other man who had not spoken.

‘Ambrosia.’

‘Right. That’s the horse. We’re part of a syndicate. Registered as Broadwater Holdings. Tell the boss we’ll be in touch.’

They didn’t bother to shake hands. The driver held the rear door open and they slid onto the back seat. Mick scratched his head as he watched the limo leave. Oh well, he’d done the best he could; they hadn’t asked many questions but they seemed to know about the place. Maybe they were just checking out that
Guneda was what it claimed to be. He’d tell Tango about the visit when he returned from welcoming TR back to Tingulla.

To his surprise, two days later a hired horse float arrived, with a nervous dark thoroughbred with a white streak down its nose locked inside. The horse was cranky and highly strung and Mick and the driver had some trouble getting it out and into a small holding paddock.

‘We haven’t formally agreed to take this horse, the boss is away,’ Mick said.

The driver shrugged. ‘I was just paid to bring him here, not take him back.’ He handed over the papers and departed.

Mick skimmed through the documents. Ambrosia came from a well-connected sire and dam and was now owned by the Broadwater Syndicate. Mick didn’t bother reading further on to where the syndicate owners were listed — Alfredo Camboni, Dina Camboni-Hanlon, Antonio Cuomo and George Bannerman — his job was to settle the horse and leave the paperwork to Tango.

Colin was also paid a visit by Tony Cuomo and his silent personal assistant. They arrived unannounced at Harmony Hill and asked if they could take a look around. Colin had several workmen and builders with him so asked if they’d mind waiting or else take a look around unescorted. They said they’d prefer to look around themselves. Colin had no doubt they were checking up on things for Camboni. However, when they returned an hour later,
Tony was effusive in his praise and accepted Colin’s offer of coffee.

They talked about the opening date of Harmony Hill and when Colin asked about marketing and advertising, Tony shrugged. ‘I have no knowledge of these things. I believe all that is your area. I am involved with the casino and a little horse racing. Which reminds me, I see you have built stables but have few horses yet.’