Read Online The Forgotten Pearl by Belinda Murrell - Free Book Online

beat down relentlessly, making humans, cattle and horses equally crotchety. The thermometer hanging in the shade crept up and up until it hit forty-six degrees – and still they worked.
    Jack’s dad was there, checking over the cattle for signs of disease and picking out the ones that would be walked by the drovers for hundreds of kilometres to the railway, for further transport to the meatworks in Darwin. The stockmen worked like a well-oiled machine. One by one, the cows and calves were directed through the race and into the crush to be examined, treated if necessary and released into one of two yards – those going to market and those staying.
    Jack helped his father move the cattle through the race, using his hat to prod, urge and hasten them forward. Poppy helped where she could, cutting out calves, urging on recalcitrant steers, opening the crush. Jack passed around a leather-skinned water bottle. It tasted horrendous but Poppy was too thirsty to care, slurping the warm liquid down her throat.
    Cows mooed. Calves bellowed. The bull stamped and snorted. Clouds of dust billowed up from stomping feet. It was early afternoon when the last cow was released and the herd had been divided into two.
    â€˜Well done, everyone,’ said Jack’s father, Mr Shanahan. ‘Let’s head back to the homestead for lunch. It’s been a big morning.’
    Poppy was too tired to talk as she mounted Sheba and rode her towards the homestead.
    â€˜All right, Midget?’ asked Jack as he caught up to her, a weary smile across his dusty face.
    She smiled and nodded, pushing the sticky strands of hair out of her eyes. ‘It was fun.’
    â€˜You did well,’ Jack offered with a cheeky grin, ‘for a town girl! You’ll feel better after a swim. We’ll go down to the creek for a dip after lunch.’
    Back at the homestead, the lawn had been turned into a bazaar by Ali the cameleer. Doctor Trehearne’s patients queued patiently to see him and then celebrated their cures by browsing among Ali’s piles of colourful merchandise, giving the homestead a festival air. The camels, meanwhile, lay by the fence chewing the cud.
    Jack’s mother, Mrs Shanahan, had spent the morning baking and cooking to feed the crowds of people from their own station, as well as the neighbours who had dropped by from the nearby stations – some as far as a hundred kilometres away. The Aboriginal women fluttered like bowerbirds among the bolts of cloth and household wares, their dark-skinned children running and hiding among the mounds of goods with squeals of excitement.
    Poppy was not tempted to browse. She was exhausted after the early start, the excitement and the hard, dusty work of the muster in the intense Northern Territory heat. Plus, she had the familiar proximity to Darwin’s best stores and suppliers.
    After splashing their faces and hands under the water tank tap, the Shanahans and Trehearnes ate at a table set on the verandah. There were Jack, his parents and his two older brothers, Danny and Harry. Despite her exhaustion, Poppy was hungry.
    Mrs Shanahan had baked a butt of home-grown beef with mustard, potatoes and pumpkin, served with a salad of tomatoes, cucumber and lettuce from the vegetable gardens and freshly baked bread. Another butt of beef had been served in the garden with bread and vegetables for the visitors.
    Jack poured Poppy a large glass of water with lemon and mint. ‘This tastes a lot better than the water bottle, Midget.’
    The promised trip to the creek was delayed further when Doctor Trehearne begged for help in the surgery to examine the Aboriginal children, many of whom had nasty eye infections from the flies, heat and dust. Poppy’s job was to chat to the children and keep them occupied while her father cleaned and anointed the infections. Poppy created a puppet out of one of Jack’s socks, which she used to entertain some of the anxious