“’Course not.”
“Is it so unlikely?”
“You said you’d kill us both if we even so much as wrote.”
“Ah, yes, so I did.” Noone withdrew the pipe stem, exhaled, rattled it back between his teeth, and bit down. “Well, as ithappens Tommy might be heading that way without my help: it seems he and your old blackboy have recently killed the overseeron a sheep station outside St. George, bounced his head off a rock so hard his brain swelled and burst like a balloon. Nodoubt there was provocation. Those types are always so uncouth. But the fact remains he is wanted for murder. There’s alreadya posse out there after him, a reward for his arrest.”
Noone smoked contentedly, watching Billy reel: five long years of silence, now this sudden hammer blow. His neck had ropedand his jaw was set and his leg jagged up and down. He wondered if Noone was lying to him. Nothing about the story soundedright.
“How do you know it was Tommy?”
“Name, age, description—he wasn’t exactly trying to hide.”
“What blackboy? Not Arthur?”
“That’s the one. We never did manage to catch up with him before.”
Billy folded his arms. “Well, they ain’t here, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Noone chuckled. “Of course they aren’t here. I had no expectation that they were. The local police, in their wisdom, havebeen searching over the border in New South Wales, but just a few days ago there was a sighting in Cunnamulla, meaning theyare heading west, for the interior, which is actually a rather clever plan. The terrain may kill them eventually, but witha band of local officers and a few sheep shearers on their tail, it seems most unlikely they will be caught.”
“Good for them then.”
“Or . . .” Noone paused for another pull on the pipe. “My men and I could ride down there instead. How long would it takeus to come up with them do you think?”
Billy shifted in his chair. “You can please yourself what you do.”
“You aren’t concerned for him?”
“This is Tommy’s lookout. Nothing to do with me.”
“He will hang, Billy. Unless someone shoots him first.”
“What’s to say you’ll even find him? That bush is a bloody big place.”
“Oh, you do me a disservice. But then you never were the sharper of the pair.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Noone removed his pipe and pointed at Billy with the stem. “It means I know you. I know your brother too. Within the weekI will have him, unless you agree to this trade. A favor, in return for leaving Tommy alone.”
Billy said nothing. Staring at Noone. Waiting for the terms.
“There is a station a day’s ride south of here, belongs to a man named Bennett—you are familiar with him, I presume?”
Billy pictured Drew Bennett shaking his hand at the Lawton stockyards. A little reluctantly, it had felt. He swallowed, andnodded his head.
“Well, it seems Mr. Bennett has taken into his possession something that rightfully belongs to me. Keeps it hidden in hisbarn, I believe. I am talking about the young trooper, Rabbit—you might remember him, always was a strange boy, but I expectedbetter, I have to say.”
Billy pictured the trooper, his high forehead and bulging eyes, giving Tommy water when Billy wouldn’t; then later, the two of them all friendly around the canyon campfire.
“Yeah, I remember him.”
“He has absconded, as our natives sometimes do. It is a common occurrence, unfortunately, but one I will not tolerate amongmy own men. So we must retrieve him, and for that I would like your help.”
“Help how?”
“With the selector, Mr. Bennett. To ensure he stays in line.”
“You don’t need me for that.”
“No, but he might. This is for his protection, Billy, so he doesn’t go getting himself killed.”
“Drew has a family. Daughters. Two sons.”
“Exactly. And you will be helping them all. You see, for a man to take a runaway trooper under his wing, he must have a certaindisregard for the law. Such a man, when confronted, may react unwisely to our presence on his land. There is ever greaterscrutiny on us these days, Billy. Sadly, the force is not what it once was. Our numbers are down, we are unpopular with thepoliticians, victims of our own success in many ways. Meaning it is preferable if a bloodbath could be avoided. Wouldn’t youagree?”
They sat in silence, Noone smoking, that word bloodbath echoing in Billy’s mind. Noone frowned into the bowl of his pipe, turned it over, and with the heel of his hand knocked awad of dead tobacco onto the floor.
“The other thing you might consider,” he continued, “is what does this traitor Rabbit know? The details of your parents’ murder,the dispersal we carried out afterward, on the basis of your sworn word—there are men on the coast who would drop their bowelsif they learned what we did to the Kurrong, would ensure those responsible were hanged. So ask yourself: What might happento you, Billy, or indeed your young widow on the hill up there, if the truth were ever revealed?”
Billy leaned forward in his chair, snarled, “You leave her the fuck alone,” and Noone shrugged like it might yet go either way. He peered at Billy knowingly, put away his pipe and stood, brushed off his trousers, straightened his waistcoat, made for the door. “Five minutes,” he said, ducking under the doorframe. There was a smashing sound outside. Billy went out after him and found Father’s old mug lying shattered on the verandah boards, Noone walking toward the horses, his longcoat flaring as he whipped it on. Billy stared at the mug fragments blankly, the broken lettering of his father’s name, then with his head lowered he crossed the yard to the bunkhouse and began packing his things.
Chapter 6
Henry Wells
“Mr. Wells, your closing address please.”
The young lawyer nodded to the judge, rose to his feet, adjusted his robes, and solemnly regarded the jury of gray, stone-facedmen, sweating in the stifling courtroom in the only suits they owned. They
