Читать книгу Billabong Riders - Mary Grant Bruce - Страница 6

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THE drovers’ camp had been pitched in the corner of a wide paddock. A creek ran along one boundary, with wattle-trees fringing its banks: otherwise the paddock was bare, except for the cattle thickly dotted over its whole expanse. There was a small yard, where already the camp horses were mustered.

The tents had been struck. Men were busily rolling them up and stowing them away in the cart. The breakfast fire still smouldered; near it the cook, bent over a kerosene-tin of hot water, was hastily swilling plates and enamel mugs, handing them to a boy to be wiped with a grimy towel.

“That’s the lot,” said the cook, straightening himself with a sigh of relief. He emptied the water over the remains of the fire. “Pack ’em up, Rob, and sling the box into the cart. I’ll go an’ find out when we’re to get a move on.”

He lit a cigarette and strolled to where two men were sitting on a log. One was short and thick-set, with olive skin and dark curly hair: the other a big red-haired man, powerfully built.

“My stuff’s ready,” said the cook. “What about harnessin’ up, Sam?”

“Oh, I’m not goin’ to do anything about makin’ a move until Linton turns up,” said the red-haired man. “An’ there’s no knowin’ when that will be. Plenty of time for you to get goin’ when we start to round up the bullocks, Fred.”

“Suits me,” rejoined the cook. “The shorter my day is, the better I like it. Three of ’em comin’, aren’t there?”

“So he said in his letter. Him and his brother-in-law an’ one of their men. I’d just as soon he’d left the job to me; but I suppose he knows his own business. Hope he’s not one of those cock-sure young squatters who reckon nobody knows anything but themselves. Parker wasn’t hard to get on with, but I don’t fancy the fine-gentleman sort.”

“Most likely he leave mosta da work to you, Sam,” said the dark man.

“I wish he’d left the lot to me—I’d have made more out of it then,” said Sam Gribble. “I wouldn’t have minded drawing the pay Parker got. Still, we may not do too badly, Tony. You’ll have to watch your step—I expect he’ll have his eye on you, wonderin’ why I took on a Dago.”

The Italian grinned. “Oh, I watch it all-a right. Not the first time I done drovin’, Sam.” He rolled a cigarette with deft fingers. “Danny Tucker not too pleased, seein’ me here, eh?”

“An’ I wasn’t too pleased to see him comin’ back. This trip wouldn’t have been too bad if I could have got just the crowd I wanted after Parker was knocked out. Oh, well, I suppose we’ll get through well enough.”

“Well, here they come, anyhow,” said the cook. “My word, they must be bringin’ plenty of stuff!—there’s a car as well as a utility. They’re goin’ to do it in style all right.”

They got to their feet as the cars stopped near the fence. Jim was the first out: he turned to give his hand to Tommy. The watching men gaped in amazement as the passengers appeared.

“Gosh, they’ve got women with them!” exclaimed Gribble. “What on earth’s that for?”

“Oh, just comin’ to see ’em off,” suggested the cook. “Look pretty business-like, those girls.” He stared at the trim figures in coats and jodhpurs. “Pity we can’t all have such luck!”

Jim was coming on alone, casting quick glances round him. Gribble went forward to meet him.

“Are you Gribble? I’m Linton.” He put out his hand with a smile. “I see you’re getting ready to start.”

“That’s right. I wouldn’t disturb the cattle until you came,” said Gribble. “Thought I’d rather you counted them with me. We’ve only lost one beast so far.”

“Yes—Parker told me one went lame. Bad luck that Parker should get hurt, wasn’t it?—it must have made it very awkward for you, especially with men clearing out. We should get on all right now; there are five of us altogether to lend a hand.”

“Five?” Gribble raised his eyebrows.

“Yes: my wife and my sister thought they’d like to come along. They can’t quite count as regular hands, but they’ll be useful.”

“Queer job for ladies, isn’t it? The camp’ll be a bit rough for them, I’d say.”

“Oh, we’ll have our own camp—we’ve brought an old fellow as cook. Camping is not a new game to any of us. Here’s my brother-in-law—he has done more droving on this route than I have.”

Wally had helped to unload the baggage and bring it inside the paddock. Murty, once that job was over, had made a bee-line for the stock-yard to look over the horses. On a mound of rolled tents and blankets sat Norah and Tommy, watching Jim and his companions.

“That must be the somewhat-doubtful Mr. Gribble,” remarked Norah. “He’s casting looks of anguish towards us. I think we’re a distinct shock to him.”

“We’re that to everyone,” said Tommy serenely. “They’re all gazing in our direction as if we were something out of the Zoo. I begin to understand why Jim wasn’t keen on our coming.”

“Oh, they’ll get used to us. Jim’s evidently explaining our plan of campaign to Mr. Gribble—he’s pointing at the waggonette. And what a waggonette!” said Norah, looking at the remains of what had once been a smart station vehicle in the days before motors. “Its cover looks as if it would let in any weather. I hope we shan’t do much travelling in that contraption, Tommy.”

“I hope not—but the front seat might be fairly comfortable. If Wally sees you and me and Lee Wing in that, he’ll certainly want a snapshot. Now they’re all marching over to inspect the horses. I do trust that Mr. Gribble hasn’t been hoping to ride Mr. Parker’s pair. If he has, he’ll be disapproving of us more than ever.”

“I’m hoping Jim will find a horse that’s up to his weight,” Norah said. “He’s been rather anxious about that. It’s rather awkward, you see; all the men have already picked their special horses for the trip, and that only leaves the oddments. And whether an oddment will carry Jim is a bit doubtful. Mr. Parker said they were all pretty good—but Jim’s no light weight.”

Jim was quietly sizing up the men with whom he was to travel. His cheery “ ’Morning boys!” as he came up to the yard had brought a pleasant enough response; the men came to the fence to meet him, and he chatted for a few minutes about the cattle and the details of each hand’s duties. A mixed lot, he thought, glancing from one tanned face to another: a few you could trust, a few you’d want to know more about, a few you’d just as soon not have. But it was always that way with a gang, and it wasn’t wise to make judgments in a hurry. Some of the drovers he and Wally greeted by name, men who had brought other droves to Billabong: and there was no doubt about the friendliness of their greetings in return. They would be men on whom he could rely.

“Well, we’ll get going, boys,” he said presently. “You all know your own horses; get them out, and Mr. Meadows and I can choose a couple. My wife and my sister are going with us—Parker has lent them his pair. I expect Murty has his eye on one already—trust him to get ahead of us!”

A grin went round: Murty had managed to make friends within a few minutes of reaching the yards. Several of the men looked relieved; the Boss had power to take any horse he wanted, and few riders cared to give up mounts to which they had become accustomed. Bridles were taken from the rails, and in a few moments the drovers had caught their horses and were leading them away. One man hung back until the others had gone. He came over to Jim.

“I’ve been riding that chestnut, Mr. Linton. But he’s more up to your weight than any of the others, an’ you’re welcome to him if you like.”

“That’s jolly good of you,” Jim said warmly. “I’ll admit I’ve been feeling a shade too heavy for this lot. Sure you don’t mind?”

“Not a bit; I’m two stone lighter than you, I reckon. Not that I’d say the chestnut was really up to you, but he’s the best of the bunch.”

“What’s your name?” asked Jim.

“Tucker.”

“Danny Tucker? I’ve heard of you from Parker, Danny.”

The man grinned.

“Parker told me a lot about you, Mr. Linton. I wouldn’t have left the show if I’d known you were coming. An’ Gribble wasn’t keen on takin’ me on again, either.”

“That so? Well, I know you’re one I can rely on, and I’m glad you came back. What horse are you taking now?”

“I’d like that brown fellow. The bay in the corner ’ud suit Mr. Meadows well: I’ve ridden him meself. They’re all pretty good, you know.” He hesitated. “Parker’s two are tied up under the trees: I saw him in the hospital last night, an’ he told me the ladies were goin’ to ride ’em. So I just told Gribble he’d lent ’em to you; an’ I gave ’em a bit of a groomin’ while we were waitin’.”

“The ladies would like to thank you for that themselves,” said Jim, smiling. “Would you mind taking the horses over to them?—you’ll find them near the gate, saddles and all. I’d be glad if you would see them fixed up.”

“Sure I will.” Tucker went off, and when Jim and Wally rode up presently, the girls were already mounted. Everywhere was activity. Cart and waggonette were loaded up, ready to start. Lee Wing was in his driving seat, his face stolid, but his keen, beady eyes taking stock of each man. The drovers were all in their saddles; dogs moved about restlessly, waiting for their work to begin. The drivers were given their orders; they moved off slowly, to get well ahead before the cattle were on the road.

“You two all right?” Jim asked.

“Quite. What shall we do, Jim?”

“You can help to get the cattle out. We’ll count them as they go through the gate. Wait for me then: I’ve got to ride to the house and settle up with the owner, and you might as well come too.”

Men were riding away slowly to get behind the cattle; Norah and Tommy followed. Quietly the bullocks began to move, stopping now and then to feed. A few had to be brought out of the shallows of the creek: once or twice a whip cracked, to urge on a bullock that tried to break back. On the road a horseman waited to turn them in the right direction as they came stringing through the gateway. Jim and Gribble on one side, Wally and Murty on the other, counted them, their eyes quick and watchful. All were out at last. The gate was shut, and Jim came back to the girls.

“Nice quiet start, and all of us agreed on the count, thank goodness. Now we’ll go and pay our debts. The house is across the creek—there’s a bridge at the far end of the paddock.”

They cantered across the empty space that half an hour before had seemed full of cattle. Jim eyed the girls’ horses keenly.

“You two are in luck. Parker certainly knows how to pick a horse.”

“They’re beauties,” said Norah. “What about yours, Jim?”

“Oh, he’s fair. Good enough for ordinary work, but if we had any trouble I should need something better. Give me anything before a light chestnut, in a tight place. Oh, well, I may never have to try him out.”

They crossed the creek and came in sight of a long low house on a rise. As they neared the stables, a man came out; a big, broad-shouldered old fellow, who turned when he saw the riders.

“Can you tell me if Mr. McLaren is in?” Jim asked.

“I’m McLaren. And you’re Linton, of course. I was hoping you would come in: I met your father at the Melbourne Show three years ago. You were riding a big black that year—got first prize with him, too, didn’t you? But I didn’t expect to see ladies. Not stock hands, are they?” he asked, smiling.

“Just that,” said Jim. Explanation and introductions were made, and the squatter insisted that it was time for morning tea. A black boy took their horses; they walked through a trim garden to the house.

“I came to pay my debts, but even more to thank you,” Jim told him. “First, for looking after our man, and secondly for taking in our cattle. Parker has told us how you looked after him.”

“Well, I did little enough. Poor beggar, he almost forgot the pain of his leg in worrying about the cattle. I was glad to be able to graze them, especially when I learned whose they were: I’d known a good deal about your father, even before I met him. Parker going on well?”

“Quite well, thanks: and very grateful to you. He’d have been in a bad way if they’d had to get him to hospital in that jolting old cart.”

“My utility was certainly better, but even so it wasn’t a joy-ride for him. He’s a plucky chap: it was hard luck for him to smash up. Hard luck for you, too: but a good thing you decided to come and take over. I don’t think much of that fellow Gribble. Here we are—we’ll have tea on the verandah. I’m an old bachelor, so you’ll have to excuse me while I tell my housekeeper.”

He was back in a moment, making sure that the girls had comfortable chairs.

“Might as well take it easy while you can. You won’t have much comfort on the roads, but I expect you’ll enjoy it. My mother often went overlanding with my father’s cattle in old days. Said she wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

“Mr. McLaren, you are very comforting,” Norah said. “Everyone else thinks we’re a little mad—even Jim!”

“Rubbish!” said the old man. “Why shouldn’t strong young women take a hand? Don’t take any notice of them.”

“They never do,” said Jim, laughing—“and they’ll be worse than ever after your encouragement. I can see I shouldn’t have brought them here.”

“I wish I had known they were coming, and I wouldn’t have let any of you stay at the hotel,” said their host. “Gribble told me he was expecting you, but he wasn’t sure when.” Tea appeared, and he waited on them himself, refusing any help from Norah.

“You say you don’t think much of Gribble, Mr. McLaren,” Jim remarked. “Any special reason?”

“He’s a shifty sort of fellow. I don’t know anything about him, but I’ve been to their camp a few times, and I sized him up. And I’m not generally wrong about a man. He may be quite all right under your eye, but I’m glad you didn’t trust the mob to him. Is that chestnut you’re riding the best they could do for you, Linton?”

“Yes, worse luck,” said Jim. “You see, I’m rather an out-size: it’s not too easy to fit me with a horse. As it was, one of the men very kindly gave up his claim to the chestnut.”

“I had a look over their horses; and I didn’t think much of that one,” said the old man. “He’s not what I’d care for myself if I were on your job.” He thought for a moment. “Look here—you and I must ride about the same weight, and I’ve a few good horses here. Let me lend you a reliable one; I’ve a big roan that will never make a mistake with you. He knows every trick cattle are up to. You’d have a very comfortable trip on my old Roany.”

“Oh, I couldn’t——,” began Jim protestingly.

“Why not? I’ve more horses than I need. Wouldn’t you or your father do as much for me if I struck Billabong on the wrong sort of horse for a heavy job?”

“But if he got hurt in any way——.”

“He might do that in his own paddock if a limb fell on him. Tell your husband to have sense, Mrs. Linton!”

Tommy said, “I wish he would, Mr. McLaren. I know the chestnut isn’t at all Jim’s type of horse.”

“Finished your tea? Then come and have a look at some of mine.”

He led them into a small paddock beyond the house. There were half a dozen horses there, big, upstanding and well-bred: the kind of horses that made Jim sigh enviously, for each might have been picked for him. Mr. McLaren gave a low whistle. A big roan, standing half-asleep under a gum-tree, looked up quickly, pricking his ears: then came slowly across to his master.

“See that?” The old man rubbed the horse’s neck. “He’ll come to my whistle at any time, and I guess he’d come to yours after you’d been riding him a week, Linton. It’s not every man I’d lend him to—but I had my eye on you when you were riding in the Show. You two would be pals. Give him to John Traill to bring back on his way home: Traill’s a good man with a horse.”

“Well ... !” said Jim under his breath—and looked longingly at the roan. “I could wish you hadn’t let me see him!”

“You can’t resist him now!” said Tommy with a little chuckle. She was rubbing Roany’s nose; the big horse muzzled her hand in a friendly way. “Norah—isn’t he just built for Jim!”

Norah said, “Well, I know how Jim feels about borrowing a horse ... but it’s a wonderful offer, Jim.”

“There’s no moral support to be had from either of you!” said Jim. “And the more I look at him, the weaker I get. Well, Mr. McLaren, I don’t see how I can refuse—I don’t need to tell you I’ll take extra care of him.”

“Oh, I know he’ll be in good hands.” The old man looked delighted. “Come along, Roany, there’s a job after your own heart ahead for you.”

He gave his low whistle again as they turned. The big horse followed just behind him until they reached the stables. A halter was slipped on the chestnut’s head, and Jim transferred his saddle and bridle to Roany.

“We’ll meet in Melbourne some time, I hope, sir,” he said, gripping McLaren’s hand. “And if you could ever come as far as Billabong there would be a mighty big welcome waiting for you. I’m a bad hand at saying what I feel ... but you and I know what this horse is going to mean to me.”

“That’s why I made you take him. Well, good-bye, and good luck to you all. Don’t ever go past my gate if you come this way again.”

They rode down the rise. Jim turned a severe eye on Tommy.

“You shameless woman! I never saw anything like the pleading eye you turned on that old chap!”

“No,” agreed his wife serenely. “I meant it to be pleading. And I don’t care a bit. I’d have done anything on earth to get you off that washy chestnut!”