Read Online Cry of the Curlew: The Frontier Series 1 by Peter Watt - Free Book Online

heaven and how Jesus had once been a carpenter in a land far away, in a time long ago. Billy knew carpenters were people who built the towns where white men lived, places which denied the pleasures of the wandering life of the teamster and the tribesman and he would shake his head sadly for Patrick’s afterlife. Surely the white man’s heaven was no place for a bullocky. Was it that Patrick would have to live with the carpenter Jesus and build towns? Better that he join him beyond the Dreaming where they could again roam free along the tracks they knew so well and together hear the sweet song of the butcher bird in the early morning. Or see the eagle on outstretched wings soaring high in the azure sky. Maybe Jesus would let Patrick come with him beyond the Dreaming! . . . If he was as good a boss as Patrick said.
    When the two men were secured to the tree, Mort dismissed Gideon.
    ‘I want you to track that murdering nigger for Mister Macintosh. And after you have found him, you can go to Glen View where you can rejoin the troop.’ Gideon nodded. He felt even more uneasy about the situation. There were things happening that were not right and he wondered if he should tell Sar’nt Henry about the white man and the old Aboriginal. But this was impossible when he was ordered to track the wounded Nerambura warrior with Mister Macintosh.
    Donald sidled his horse over to Mort. Both men were a distance from Gideon and the shepherds who waited eagerly to resume the hunt. ‘I expect you have everything under control here, Lieutenant Mort,’ he said quietly. ‘I do not take kindly to anyone coming between me and my rights to avenge the death of my son. You understand what I am saying?’
    Mort stared across at his two prisoners. ‘I understand, Mister Macintosh. And I am sure justice will take its course here today,’ he replied quietly.
    ‘Good,’ the squatter grunted as he wheeled his mount away. ‘Make sure justice is done.’
    Mort watched the squatter’s party follow Corporal Gideon and ride after the wounded Darambal warrior. He waited for only a few minutes until he could no longer see or hear the departing horsemen, then he dismounted and strode across to Patrick and Billy manacled to the gum tree. He was grinning with the fixed expression of divine madness as he approached his helpless captives with the infantry sword trailing in his hand.
    It was then that Patrick knew that he and Billy would not live to see the sun set and he prayed silently that Tom would not be found. For if he were found, he would surely share the same fate.

SIX
    T he smoke rose as a grey column into a pale blue sky, and spread like the broad canopy of a rain tree. The black troopers gathered the last of the implements that had marked the life of the Nerambura clan. Stone-grinding dishes were smashed and dilly bags were thrown onto the bonfire along with shields, spears, boomerangs and nullas. They were subdued in their tasks. The place was baal! The killing ground was taboo to the living. Nightfall would return the spirits of the slaughtered and the Aboriginal troopers feared their awesome powers.
    Sergeant Henry James looked into the rising flames fuelled by the gathered pile of wooden weapons and tools and stared with a spiritual numbness at the flames that carried the spirits of the weapons into the heavens. His soul was crippled. Or was it that the work of the dispersals had killed his soul?
    ‘Finished, Sar’nt Henry. Boys all finished.’
    Trooper Mudgee stood at Henry’s elbow and his words seemed to come from a faraway place, interrupting Henry’s brooding thoughts.
    ‘All right, Trooper Mudgee,’ Henry replied with little enthusiasm in his voice. ‘Get the boys together and set up camp along the creek a bit. Make sure they get their uniforms and you can start a fire so we can eat. I’ll wait for Mister Mort here and tell him where you are camped. I’m putting you in charge for the moment and I will give you a thrashing