Alice-Miranda in the Outback Page 9

  Junie and Rusty raced outside – the dog cocking his leg on the tree near the back gate while the cat padded out to sniff the garden before digging herself a hole and settling in to do her business in a more demure feline fashion. As Alice-Miranda was about to head inside, she thought she heard the distant sound of an engine being carried on the breeze that had sprung up earlier.

  She stopped, then wandered around the side of the house. Way off in the distance, she could see a vehicle with a trail of dust behind it. Perhaps it was one of the police officers, although she’d thought they were all to the east of Darley’s Plains. She remembered the binoculars in her pack and ran back inside to get them, then charged out to the front veranda and quickly fiddled with the focus. The car was a white ute, and she was pretty sure that it had a dog cage on the back, although it was a long way in the distance so she couldn’t be sure. If it was the same car they’d seen on the way out, though, it was a relief to think the driver had been reunited with their vehicle. She’d tell the others as soon as they returned.

  Red dust billowed up behind the ute as the young men covered the fifty or so kilometres back to their bush camp. Finally, they approached the rocky outcrop and Col eased off the accelerator, bringing the vehicle to a juddering stop under the cover of some scrubby trees.

  ‘You’re cooking tonight,’ Col said as they hopped out of the car. ‘I drove.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ Muz lifted the esky from the tray and walked into camp. It was a basic affair, comprised only of a tarp strung between some mulga trees, a fold-up table, two chairs and a gas stove.

  The pair had a routine. Whoever had driven home got to have a bush bath while the other man cooked. After dinner, the chef had a wash and the other bloke did the dishes. So far, there had been few arguments.

  Half an hour later, the two men were sitting in their camp chairs, feasting on tinned beef stew and crispbread biscuits.

  ‘Geez, Muz, I don’t know what you’ve done with this tonight, but it’s good,’ Col said as he shovelled another mouthful.

  ‘Thought I’d mix things up a bit, so I added a tin of beans,’ Muz replied.

  ‘Well, it’s a darn sight better than that grilled Spam you served up a couple of nights ago,’ Col replied.

  Muz nodded and stood up to boil the billy for some tea. Suddenly, a loud snap and rustling of leaves sounded from the scrub. Muz spun around, his heart quickening, while Col put his plate on the ground and jumped to his feet. He ran to get the rifle from the ute on the other side of the clearing. You couldn’t be too careful with the feral animals out here.

  Col pointed the gun in the direction of the noise and together they watched and waited.

  A blue cattle dog burst from the undergrowth, tail wagging as it sniffed everything in its path.

  The men breathed a huge sigh of relief and Col put the gun down.

  ‘Where the heck did you come from?’ he said, but the dog ignored the sound of his voice, clearly on a mission to find something tasty.

  Muz shook his head, relaxing as he watched the canine. ‘Last thing we need is some farmer’s stray mutt out here. I’m not feedin’ him,’ Muz said. ‘Though you seem to be.’

  Col shouted. ‘Get out, you mongrel!’ The dog had just located his dinner plate on the ground beside the chair. The pooch growled when he tried to shoo it away.

  Col held up his hands. ‘Okay, it’s yours. But I hope there’s some more in the pot for me.’

  ‘There is,’ Muz replied, ‘but I have a feeling we might have to give that to someone else.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Col asked.

  Muz pointed towards the bush.

  Col’s jaw just about hit the ground as he spotted the girl, all brunette curls and dimples, standing in the clearing. She wore denim overalls and a long-sleeved T-shirt, and was carrying a small green backpack. ‘Where on earth did you come from?’ he gasped.

  The little girl didn’t say a word.

  ‘What’s your name, kid?’ Col asked.

  But the child didn’t reply. Instead, she licked her lips and put the backpack on the ground before pulling out a drink bottle and opening the lid. It was empty.

  ‘Get her something, will you,’ Col urged.

  Muz fluffed around for a few minutes until he found a flask of drinking water, sniffing to check its freshness. He passed it to the child, who grabbed it and drank greedily.

  ‘Do you want something to eat?’ Muz asked, but the girl still didn’t reply. Frowning, Muz mimed the act of eating. The child nodded. ‘I think she’s hungry.’

  ‘Congratulations, Einstein,’ Col said.

  Muz produced a clean plate from the box on the back of the ute and scooped some stew onto it then grabbed a fork – wiping the latter with the bottom of his shirt. He motioned for the child to sit in one of the camp chairs and passed her the food. The little girl tucked in while the two men stared from her, to one another and back again.

  ‘Where did she come from?’ Col said, shaking his head.

  ‘Maybe she ran away from a car – we did see those tyre tracks last night,’ Muz said.

  ‘Has to be someone else camped out here,’ Col said. ‘It’s at least forty clicks to the nearest homestead.’

  ‘What if that helicopter we saw was looking for her?’ Muz said. ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘We can’t call it in,’ Col said. ‘The coppers will come out, and then they’ll want to know what we’re doing here.’

  Muz turned to her. ‘Sweetheart, where do you live?’

  The girl didn’t look up, her gaze firmly on the plate. The dog, having finished Col’s dinner, walked over to sit at the child’s feet.

  ‘Kid, what are you doing out here?’ Col tried. His patience was starting to wear thin. ‘Where’s home?’ he boomed loudly, but she still didn’t flinch. ‘What’s wrong with her?’ Col said.

  Muz crouched in front of the girl and her dog, the canine watching his every move.

  ‘Sweetheart, can you hear me?’ he asked slowly. ‘Would you like some ice-cream with chocolate sauce and sprinkles on top?’

  ‘Well, that’s mean, gettin’ the kid’s hopes up like that. Unless you have a magical ice-cream maker stuffed up your shirt,’ Col scoffed.

  Muz stood up and turned to his mate.

  ‘She’s deaf,’ he said. ‘She didn’t hear a word I said.’

  ‘Oh geez,’ Col sighed. ‘Her parents must be worried sick.’

  ‘What are we gonna do?’ Muz bit his lip.

  ‘I dunno, but we can’t keep her,’ Col said.

  ‘Well, we’d better think of something, and fast.’

  Muz sat down on the spare chair and rested his head in his hands. The girl hopped up from her seat. She walked over and leaned against him. Her eyes began to close and she started to wobble. Fortunately, Muz grabbed her before she fell – the poor little darling was quite literally asleep on her feet.

  Sprocket McGinty opened his eyes. His head was pounding. He licked the top of his lip, which tasted like blood.

  That punch had knocked him out cold. Now, he had no idea where he was, although given the roar of the engine and the grooves in his back, he guessed he was in the back of that bloke’s ute. It was pitch black and airless with the tarp pulled tight over the tray. He had no idea how long they’d been travelling.

  The engine slowed for a moment and Sprocket began planning his escape, except he realised there was no point until he knew where they were and how he might find help. Leaping from a perfectly good vehicle into the middle of the Australian outback could turn out to be a very bad decision.

  He could hear a country tune playing in the cabin, and every now and then the driver would sing the chorus with a voice that could cut glass.

  Sprocket wished he’d got a better look at the bloke, but the only thing he’d almost seen coming was the knuckle sandwich and by then it was too late.

  The rhyme from the page he’d found played around and around in his head.

&n
bsp; The water on the table boasts a colourful feast, where Hope Springs eternal beneath a hungry rusty beast.

  What did it mean? The intruder had said something about a map. A map of what? What was he looking for? Water on a table. A rusty beast. Could that be an old car? A tractor? Sprocket had plenty of rusty beasts at his own place. Did ‘Hope Springs eternal’ mean whatever the man was looking for was at Hope Springs? That seemed to make the most sense, which was a worry. Hugh and the kids were out there and this bloke had already proven himself to be dangerous.

  By half past six, the entire search party had arrived back at the homestead. It had been a long day, and everyone was hungry and keen to wash off the day’s grime. Faces were speckled with red dust and Millie dug an impressive pile of dirt from her grit-encrusted ears just by running her finger around the inside.

  Unlike the rest of the dishevelled bunch, Lawrence still looked every inch the movie star. He tousled his dark hair and, ridiculously, it fell into place – even though he’d worn a helmet most of the day.

  Millie nudged Alice-Miranda. ‘How is that possible?’ She gestured at the man.

  Alice-Miranda frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘How does Lawrence look as if he’s just stepped from the pages of an outback advertisement when the rest of us appear to have been dragged backwards through a mulga bush and jumped on by a cranky kangaroo?’

  Alice-Miranda grinned. ‘Must be the movie star gene.’

  Jacinta had cottoned onto the conversation too. ‘I know – just look at him,’ she said with a sigh, staring at Lucas, who was almost as remarkably fresh as his father.

  Millie shook her head.

  ‘What?’ Jacinta asked.

  ‘We were talking about Lawrence, not Lucas,’ the girl replied.

  ‘Oh, I knew that,’ Jacinta rolled her eyes.

  ‘Sure you did,’ Millie teased and gave her friend a nudge.

  ‘I’m starving,’ Larry said. ‘Is there anything for tea?’

  Hugh nodded. ‘How do tinned spaghetti jaffles with cheese sound?’

  Alice-Miranda smiled. Jaffles were a treat her father made sometimes when Mrs Oliver had the night off. The whole family loved them – including Mrs Shillingsworth, their live-in housekeeper – though they all agreed not to tell Dolly. The family cook thought the dish was a dreadful affront to culinary sensibilities.

  ‘Delicious,’ Larry said. ‘As long as it’s not Dad’s chargrilled meat and three serves of soggy veg, I’m happy.’

  ‘Thank heavens you’re here, Hugh – otherwise my children were in danger of being starved to death.’ Barnaby grinned.

  ‘Oh,’ Alice-Miranda said suddenly. ‘I heard a vehicle before you all got back. I took the binoculars and had a look, and I think it was a white ute, possibly with a dog cage on the back.’

  ‘Which direction was it heading?’ Barnaby asked.

  The girl explained that she’d watched from the front veranda. The car seemed to be travelling north almost parallel to the driveway, but further away.

  The man’s forehead puckered. ‘Mmm, I wonder where on earth they were going, though if it was the ute you saw on the way out here, at least that’s one less mystery for the police to solve.’

  The children nodded.

  ‘Why don’t you all get cleaned up before dinner?’ Hugh suggested. ‘It’ll take a little while.’

  ‘A shower would be heaven,’ Alice-Miranda said.

  ‘Only if you like the sprint version,’ Jacinta quipped. ‘I hardly have time to get wet before the buzzer goes off. I mean, how am I meant to wash my hair?’ She tugged at her matted blonde ponytail.

  ‘Never mind, Jacinta,’ Lawrence said. ‘We should all be doing our bit to conserve water, no matter where we live.’

  ‘Dad’s right,’ Lucas said. ‘It’s only coming out here you realise just how precious it really is.’

  ‘It’s okay for you two,’ Jacinta said. ‘You could go for a week without a bath and still look beautiful. But I suppose you’ve got a point,’ the girl conceded.

  Barnaby finished making cups of tea for himself, Hugh and Lawrence, and carried them over to the table. ‘I need to get that bore fixed or we’ll be dry before the end of the week.’

  Everyone was silent a minute, knowing the increasingly desperate search for Matilda was the reason repairs were delayed.

  ‘Did Laura say anything more, Dad?’ Hayden asked.

  ‘No, not much,’ the man replied. ‘She sounded exhausted.’

  The enormity of the situation seemed to hit everyone at the same time. Barnaby looked at the sea of hangdog faces.

  ‘Chin up, everyone. Matilda’s a tough little nut,’ Barnaby said. He knew that was true, but he also knew the reality of this land. He couldn’t help feeling sick about the situation.

  There were nods all round. ‘Tomorrow,’ Millie said. ‘Tomorrow we’ll find her.’

  The others all agreed.

  ‘Where are you gonna leave her?’ Col whispered, as he rolled the ute to a slow halt, keeping the machinery shed between the car and the darkened house.

  ‘I’ll find somewhere safe,’ Muz replied softly. The tiny girl nestled in his lap began to stir, opening her eyes for just a second before promptly closing them again.

  The two men had driven over fifty kilometres to the closest homestead, creeping the vehicle along the last ten kilometres as quietly as possible, guided only by the moonlight. They’d left the dog tied up back at the camp. They couldn’t risk the mongrel barking.

  ‘Well, are you gonna help me or not?’ Muz mumbled.

  Col realised what the other man was asking and hopped out to open the passenger door, his feet crunching on the gravel.

  Muz passed the child to Col.

  ‘She’s a sweetie,’ Muz whispered. ‘I hope I have a daughter one day.’

  Col grinned. Even he had to admit that the kid was cute. It was a mystery how on earth she’d managed to find her way to their camp, but at least she’d come across them before anything horrible had happened. It was rough country out here, and Col shuddered to think of the dangers for a kid that size.

  Muz hopped out of the ute and walked around to the open side of the shed. Between the four-wheelers and farm machinery were plenty of spots they could place the child. He spread a blanket on the floor, then motioned for Col to lay her down. Once on the floor, the girl rolled over and put her thumb in her mouth.

  ‘Sleep tight, little one. You’re home now,’ Muz said. He wasn’t entirely sure that this was where she lived, but someone would look after her. ‘We’ll get your dog back when we can – she’ll be fine.’

  And with that, he headed off, leaving the child sound asleep.

  Alice-Miranda woke with a start. She’d been in the middle of the most vivid dream when she thought she heard an engine fire up. She glanced at the old digital clock on the bedside table between the bunks. It was three in the morning, too early for any search parties – she must have dreamt the noise.

  Everyone was asleep, including Junie on the end of Larry’s bed and Rusty stretched out in the middle of the old rug on the floor.

  Alice-Miranda rubbed her eyes and lay listening to the night sounds. There it was again – the low grumble of an engine. Was she imagining it or not?

  She swung her feet to the ground and made her way to the kitchen. The girl peered through the back windows and saw a glint of metal in the moonlight near the machinery shed. She decided to take a closer look. Alice-Miranda grabbed the torch that was hanging from the coat rack on the covered veranda and found her shoes by the back door. She checked them for critters first then shoved her feet inside.

  Rusty had heard her rattling about and came to investigate.

  ‘Come on, boy,’ Alice-Miranda whispered. They set off through the screen door and down the back steps to the yard. The creaky gate threatened to wake the rest of the house, but thankfully when the girl looked back, the place was still in darkness.

  She and Rusty walked ar
ound the first double garage towards the cluster of outbuildings to the rear and western side of the homestead. They had myriad uses, from car parking to machinery. The hangar for the chopper was the furthest away, and some other sheds were full of feed and equipment for the stock. Another dwelling with its own garden patch sat about a hundred metres to the west of the farmhouse. Molly and Ralph lived there with Rosie, Sam and the children.

  A row of old stockman’s dongas – single rooms where the jackaroos and jillaroos who used to come for the mustering would stay – created a border between the sheds and the domestic buildings. These days, they were only used a couple of times a year at most for an overflow of family and friends, save for the one used permanently by Buddy. Barnaby had mentioned that Evie was thinking about turning them into holiday accommodation for travellers keen for a slice of life in the Aussie outback. She had friends on other stations who’d done the same.

  Alice-Miranda and Rusty turned the corner of the machinery shed to find nothing there. She must have dreamt the noise after all. For a moment, she stood still, peering into the darkness up past the hangar towards the paddocks, when she suddenly heard the sound again. This time she was sure it was an engine.

  Rusty looked up at her and whimpered.

  ‘You heard it too, didn’t you, boy?’ Alice-Miranda patted the kelpie’s head.

  She shone the torch onto the ground in front of her. There were fresh tyre tracks and footprints in the dust.

  Rusty raised his nose in the air then darted away towards the machinery shed.

  ‘Here, boy,’ Alice-Miranda called, and started after him. ‘What have you got there?’

  The dog stopped and lay down near what Alice-Miranda thought was a pile of old chaff bags. But as she got closer, her breath caught in her throat. She raced over.

  ‘Matilda!’ the girl shouted.

  Alice-Miranda knelt down beside the child and listened for breaths. Matilda was alive and fast asleep.