Moonlight Plains (6 page)

‘That might do the trick.’ Ed shot an assessing glance at the surrounding gum trees. ‘An axe would be handy.’

Kitty smiled. This was one problem she could solve. Now she was grateful for her great-uncle’s lesson about the power of shotguns at close range. She would put it to good use.

Holding the barrel close to the base of a sapling’s trunk, just as her great-uncle had demonstrated, she closed her eyes and pulled the butt hard into her shoulder, then she fired a blast and the young tree fell instantly.

‘Nice work, Annie Oakley,’ Ed drawled close behind her, and without wasting a moment, he grabbed the sapling and hurried with it to the plane.

By the time Kitty caught up with him, he was already prising it beneath the cockpit’s latch.

‘Keep back!’ he ordered her. ‘We were low on fuel, but there’s still a good chance this could go up with a bang.’

Kitty stepped away smartly, watching Ed work. Perhaps she should have prayed again, but she was too fascinated. Too scared.

Ed’s face pulled into a grimace as he used the broken sapling to lever the door free. It took several tries. One end of the sapling snapped, but Ed persevered and it eventually worked, thank heavens. As soon as he’d yanked the door aside, Ed leaned into the cockpit and swiftly grabbed the pilot beneath his armpits and hauled his limp body out.

Kitty caught a glimpse of the other man’s flying goggles and his broad nose. Long arms. Loose, floppy legs.

‘Is – is he alive?’

‘Not sure,’ was the grim reply. ‘Would you mind grabbing his legs, so I can get him clear of this plane?’

Ed had barely said this before a terrible
whoomp
exploded behind him and a red ball of fire leapt high, lighting up the darkness.

He yelled and jumped clear, dragging the man with him. Somehow – later, she was never sure how – Kitty managed to grab the injured pilot’s ankles. She was surprised by the weight of him and she was decidedly shaky as they lugged him away from the burning wreckage to a safe piece of cleared ground.

Behind them, the fire spread quickly through the plane, but Ed paid scant attention to the garish flames leaping high into the night sky. He was too concerned about his companion.

By now a strange white glow from the fire lit up the night and Kitty watched as Ed knelt and gently removed his comrade’s goggles and leather flying helmet. Ed’s forehead was creased by a deep frown as he loosened the silk scarf at the airman’s throat and pressed long, supple fingers to the side of his neck.

‘Can you feel a pulse?’ She had to ask.

‘Just. I’m no medic, but I’m sure it’s too faint.’

Kitty leaned closer, and to her horror, she saw dried blood staining the corner of the unconscious airman’s mouth.

‘Does that mean he has internal injuries?’ she asked, pointing.

Ed let out a heavy sigh. ‘I think so. He needs a doctor. A hospital.’

Her heart sank. They hadn’t a hope of getting him to hospital, but how on earth could they help him on their own, all the way out here?

‘We should at least get him out of this rain and up to the house,’ she suggested, but she didn’t add that there would be next to no help at the homestead, apart from a rudimentary first aid box.

‘How far is it to the house?’

She made a rough guess. ‘A few hundred yards.’

‘Right.’ Ed stood. ‘Normally, I’d sling him over my shoulder, but if he has internal injuries it might do him more harm than good.’ He looked back at the burning plane, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘If Bobby lost a wing smashing through here, it can’t be too far away. You wait with him and I’ll see if I can find it. We can use it as a stretcher to carry him.’

‘All right.’

Unexpectedly, Ed smiled at her. His smile was tinged with fatigue and worry, but gosh, she couldn’t help noticing how young and handsome he was.

His gaze dropped to the man on the ground and his smile faded, his voice softened. ‘This is my good friend and comrade, Lieutenant Robert Kowalski. He likes to be called Bobby.’

Kitty gulped. She was sure Bobby seemed too still.

A moment later, Ed was gone, hurrying away into the night.

Kitty knelt beside Bobby Kowalski. He had a nice face, with a broad, flattish nose, fair eyebrows and eyelashes and widely set cheekbones. His lips were very pale, too pale, and the bright streak of blood looked garish by comparison. He looked young, maybe not quite twenty.

To her surprise, his eyes slowly opened.

‘Hello,’ Kitty said softly, kneeling closer.

His pale-blue eyes accentuated his youth. He stared at her, then he turned and frowned at the burning plane, then back at her again. Fear crept into his eyes.

‘Don’t be frightened, Bobby. Ed’s here. You’re going to be okay.’

Her reassurance was useless. As Bobby continued to stare at her, his eyes widened with terror.

‘Don’t be frightened,’ she said again, wishing there was something she could do.

But he looked more terrified than ever. Terrified of
her
.

Perhaps she looked weird with the potato sack over her head. Kitty quickly slipped it off and shook her hair free. The sacking was standard wet-weather gear out here, but in the dark it probably made her look more like the Grim Reaper.
Poor man
.

Bobby’s relief was instant.

She took his hand and offered him a smile. ‘I’m Kitty,’ she told him.

He nodded and a slight movement of his lips might almost have been a greeting.

‘It’s so nice to see you awake,’ she said next.

His Adam’s apple jerked. ‘Where’s Ed?’

‘Not far away.’ Kitty pointed to the blackness beyond the plane. ‘He’s fetching something to make a stretcher, so we can carry you up to the homestead.’

‘You don’t have to carry me. You can’t. You’re a girl.’ Bobby tried to sit up, but he’d barely lifted his shoulders before he moaned and grimaced horribly, then coughed.

Alarmed, Kitty pushed him gently back. ‘Shh. Don’t move. Ed will be back any moment now.’

Sure enough, Ed was already hurrying towards them, bringing what looked like a sheet of roofing iron across his shoulders.

‘This might work,’ he said, but he didn’t sound confident as he laid it on the ground. ‘It’s part of the tail section.’

Bobby fainted while they were carefully lifting him onto the makeshift stretcher.

Kitty drew a deep breath. She knew it wasn’t going to be easy, keeping Bobby balanced on the metal stretcher as they made their way through the rain-drenched scrub. She wouldn’t be able to carry the gun or lantern, so she set them under a tree. She’d come back for them later.

‘Ready?’ called Ed.

‘Yes.’

‘We’ll lift on the count of three. Okay?’

‘Okay.’

‘One . . . two . . . three . . .’

Carrying the stretcher was indeed as difficult as she feared, especially during the first part of their journey, where they had to weave their way through the scrub with night closing in and the rain still falling. When they reached the open paddock, they set Bobby down for a short breather before going on.

The hardest part was lifting Bobby off the tail to carry him through the back doorway. When Ed took his shoulders, Bobby groaned again, horribly, but at last they were safely in the kitchen.

It was only when they got back to the house and Kitty lit another lantern that she saw how pale and exhausted Ed looked.

She realised then that she had no idea how long the Americans had been flying, or what kind of ordeal they’d been through before they were forced to land at Moonlight Plains. Ed showed no concern for himself, though. His focus was entirely on Bobby as he knelt beside his friend, his face taut with worry.

Kitty took off her sacking cape, glad to be rid of it, and hung it on the hook behind the back door.

Turning, she caught Ed watching her, his dark eyes intent, and she wished she was wearing something a good deal more fetching than a rumpled cotton smock, tucked into a pair of damp and mud-streaked men’s trousers cinched at her waist with a piece of rope.

Almost immediately, she was ashamed of herself for even caring how she looked in these circumstances.

She stepped forward as Ed unzipped Bobby’s jacket.

‘No obvious signs of injury,’ he said, frowning, then he shook his head. ‘But he’s out to it again and that can’t be good.’

His expression remained grim as he opened Bobby’s shirt. Kitty stepped closer, appalled by the sight of a huge purple bruise that covered the entire left side of Bobby’s chest. She couldn’t hold back a horrified gasp.

‘I’ve got to get help,’ Ed said, clearly as shocked as she was. ‘I’ll need to use your phone.’

Kitty winced. ‘I’m sorry. We don’t have a phone.’

For uncomfortable seconds Ed stared at her in disbelief. ‘Damn,’ he muttered softly.

She couldn’t blame him for cursing. Their situation was dire.

Ed looked around him at the simple kitchen with its plain wooden dresser, scrubbed pine table and its old-fashioned wood stove in a ripple-iron alcove. He glanced at the lantern she’d lit and then at the timber ceiling, bare of light bulbs. ‘You don’t even have electricity?’

‘No.’

‘How do you communicate? Is there some kind of radio?’

Kitty shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. It’s very isolated here.’

‘What about your men?’ he demanded impatiently. ‘When are they coming back?’

She wished with all her heart that she could offer him more hope. ‘There’s only Uncle Jim. Most of the other men from this district are fighting or they’ve gone to help the war effort, working in the railways or in offices.’

Then, apologetically, she had to add, ‘I’m afraid my great-uncle won’t be back for another two days.’ As she said this, the rain began to fall more heavily than ever, drumming on the iron roof. ‘He might take even longer if the creeks come up.’ She hated to add to Ed’s troubles, but he needed the full picture. ‘This is still the wet season.’

It was more like the middle of a nightmare for Ed and Bobby, she suspected.

‘Okay,’ Ed said with weary resignation. ‘What about transport, then? Do you have a vehicle?’

Kitty swallowed nervously. ‘There’s a truck, but no fuel.’

Now Ed didn’t hold back on a heavy sigh. ‘How can I get gas then?’

‘My great-uncle’s hoping to bring petrol back from Charters Towers.’

‘He’s hoping? Goddamn. I can’t believe we ended up so far off course.’ Ed looked down at Bobby, lying at his feet, ran a despairing hand through his hair. ‘I have to get a doctor. I have to find a phone. There has to be someone around here who can help. What about your neighbours?’

The nearest neighbours were twenty miles away. Kitty looked down at her hands, wishing she could offer more help. Then she threw a frantic glance at the papered windows. ‘I guess you could hitch a horse to the sulky, if it’s in working order. Can you handle one? I can’t.’

Ed smiled and shook his head. ‘Sorry, I’m a city guy. I barely know one end of a horse from the other. I’d be better off on foot.’

‘But it’s such a dark night and you don’t know the way.’

‘I don’t have any choice,’ Ed said after only the slightest hesitation. ‘Do you know if your neighbours have a telephone?’

‘I – I’m really not sure. I’m so sorry. I’d like to be more help, but I’ve only been living out here a few weeks.’

‘Where were you before that?’

‘Townsville. With my grandparents.’

To her surprise, the grimness in Ed’s dark eyes softened. As he rose from his post beside Bobby, he actually smiled at her. ‘You’ve been incredibly brave tonight, Kitty. You came out in the rain to search for us. With a shotgun, no less. Heaven knows what you expected to find.’

She remembered how scared she’d been when she thought the airmen were Japs. But now, with another glance at Bobby, a new fear replaced the old. If Ed left to search for help she’d be alone with Bobby. She’d be responsible for him, and she couldn’t imagine how she could possibly save him. She was an inept city girl, so unprepared for this emergency.

A suffocating pressure filled her chest. She went to the window to push it further open, peering out, taking deep, necessary breaths of fresh air. ‘There’s no signs out there, Ed. Not even a proper road. Just a dirt track – a couple of wheel ruts in the bush. And it’ll be wet and muddy. I hope you don’t get lost.’

‘It’s a risk I’ll have to take. I
have
to try. It’s what Bobby would do, if our positions were reversed.’

Kitty nodded. She understood – Ed would never forgive himself if he didn’t try. ‘Will you help me to get Bobby into bed before you leave?’

‘Of course.’

‘I’ll get the room ready.’

She wished there was time to make up the bed with good sheets, but her great-uncle had never been well off, and ever since Aunty Lil had died last year, he’d lapsed into living rough, with little pride or care.

She’d done everything she could to make the place clean and welcoming, but there was no way she could disguise the rustic mattresses made from wool bags cut down to size and filled with corn husks that rustled every time anyone rolled over.

She’d seen the fine quality of the Americans’ uniforms and by comparison, these beds were embarrassingly rough, but the good linen and quilts were still packed away in the linen cupboard, wrapped in brown paper and kept ‘for guests’.

At least the pillows were soft. Aunty Lil had made them from white flour bags filled with chicken feathers, using only the breast feathers and the soft down from beneath the wings.

Quickly now, Kitty smoothed out the old patched and darned sheets. She tucked the bottom sheet firmly beneath the mattress, spread out the top sheet and a blanket and folded them down, then plumped up the pillows.

‘Bobby will be more comfortable in a bed,’ she said when she returned to Ed.

He nodded wearily, and once again ran long, tanned fingers through his hair as the muscles in his throat worked. ‘Thanks.’

His voice was rough and Kitty knew he was dreadfully upset about Bobby. It was more than possible that Bobby was dying, and there was so little they could do to help him. It was terrible to feel useless.

She’d never seen anyone close to death before and her stomach knotted at the thought of being left alone with Bobby for long, lonely hours. What if Ed couldn’t get help? What if he couldn’t get back?

It didn’t help to dwell on such things. After all, this was another chance to prove to her grandfather that she was not simply a wicked girl with deplorable morals.

Ed removed Bobby’s boots, scarf and jacket and unbuckled his belt and slipped it free from his trousers.

‘Should we change him into pyjamas?’ Kitty asked.

‘Later maybe. For the time being, I don’t want to move him any more than we have to.’

Mindful of Bobby’s dangerously bruised chest, they lifted him extra-gently, with Ed supporting his head and shoulders while Kitty supported his knees.

Very, very carefully they made their way down the hall, through the narrow bedroom doorway, then lowered him onto the bed.

‘I don’t like the sound of his breathing,’ Ed said.

‘Perhaps we should prop him up a little. I’ll get another pillow.’

Without waiting for his reply, Kitty dashed to her great-uncle’s bedroom, and returned with the extra pillow. She found Ed sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at Bobby’s still face with a look of bleak despair.

‘I can’t get to him to speak to me,’ he said. ‘But I don’t like to shake him.’

Fear eddied through her and her throat filled with an aching lump.

Pasting on a brave smile and holding up the extra pillow, she tried to sound cheery. ‘Let’s see if this helps. You lift Bobby’s shoulders and I’ll rearrange the pillows.’

As they did this, Ed’s arms brushed hers. More than once. And she was dismayed by the flashes that zapped her skin. To make things worse, a bright blush flamed in her cheeks.

How ridiculous to react this way to the first American she met. Perhaps her grandfather was right.

When Bobby was settled, Kitty spoke rather brusquely, not daring to make eye contact. ‘I’ll get you something to keep the rain off.’

The rain was fairly thundering on the iron roof now. In the hallway, she stopped at the coat rack. ‘Here, take this,’ she said, lifting down a heavy khaki greatcoat with brass buttons.

‘It looks like military issue.’

‘Yes. It’s Uncle Jim’s. He wore it in the last war. In France.’

Ed frowned. ‘You sure he won’t mind my using it?’

‘Course he won’t. If he was here, he’d insist.’

On their way through the kitchen Kitty stopped. ‘You should take some food.’

‘No, it’s okay. I need to get going.’

‘Just a few Anzacs,’ she insisted, overriding his protests and reaching for the biscuit tin. ‘You don’t know how long you’ll be.’

Quickly, she put the biscuits in a brown paper bag along with a banana, and filled a canvas water bag. ‘This isn’t very flash but it should keep you going.’

‘Okay. Thanks.’

She went with him to the back door. The rain was sheeting down.

‘Please be careful,’ she told Ed. ‘We had floods back in February, and the creek can come up again without much warning. There’s no bridge, just a ford over the shallowest part. Just remember, follow the track to where it meets a formed road and then turn left. You’ll see the entrance to the neighbours’ about five miles down that road.’

She didn’t like to add to Ed’s troubles, but she knew that he might get across the creek and then find he wasn’t able to get back, leaving her alone with Bobby.

But she also knew that if he stayed, Bobby would almost certainly die. It was an agonising dilemma, but there was only one possible response.