Arthur
It was their sixth season working the stock routes together when, in a pub in Urandangi, on their way north to collect another mob, Jack noticed the stranger eyeing Tommy across the room. A toothless old swaggie with straggly long hair and a beard speckled with lice, a flinty look of menace in his bloodhound eyes. Standing alone in the corner, leaning on a shelf, staring at Tommy and nursing his beer like an infant against his chest. A lively crowd in that evening. Various droving teams passing through at the same time, mingling, drinking, singing, swapping stories from the road. Tommy was playing cards at a table, the cards fanned out in his right hand, his beer glass clutched in the three fingers of his left. Laughing. Slapping the man beside him on the arm. Jack bought two beers from the barman, sidled over to the old-timer, and offered him one.
“What’s this?” the stranger said, scowling.
“You don’t want it, I’ll drink it myself.”
“I never said that, here . . .” He snatched the beer, spilling some, put the glass to his lips and drank, eyes on Jack thewhole time. He lowered the glass and sighed contentedly. “Do I know ye or something, friend?”
“Might do. I’ve known a lot of people.”
“Reckon I’d remember, generous as y’are.”
“I just don’t like to see a fella drinking by himself, that’s all.”
“Well, I’m much obliged to ye.” He offered his hand. “Alan Ames.”
They shook. “Jack Kerrigan. So what brings you out here, Alan Ames?”
Ames laughed like this was funny. “Might as well say it’s the wind.”
“Take her as she comes, is it?”
“Something like that, aye. Not by choice, mind.”
“You after work then?”
“Might be. You hiring?”
“Not yet, but you never know with this lot. Anything can happen in a night.”
Ames nodded. They stood drinking. Finally he said, “Here, that young blond lad playing cards over there—he’s not one of yours,is he?”
“Never seen that bloke before tonight. Why?”
“Ah, nothing. I reckon I might have known him someplace, that’s all.”
“So go ask him.”
“Not likely.”
“All right then, I will.”
Jack went to leave but Ames grabbed his arm. “Don’t.”
“There history between you or something?”
“It’s him what has the history, not me.” He ducked his head a little, lowered his voice. “Crazy little cunt once killed a man down in St. George, a good man, station overseer on a place called Barren Downs. I was working there when he did it. We went out looking but never caught him. Kid was madder than a one-eyed dog.”
Jack sipped his beer. “You sure that’s him? Bloke could be anyone.”
Ames was shaking his head furiously. “Look at that hand there, the fingers he’s missing. Kid had the exact same thing. Blondhair, the ages match—bit more to say for himself now by the looks of it, but that’s him as I live and breathe.”
“Plenty blokes I’ve met are missing a finger or two.”
“You’re not listening to me. They never caught him, I said. Even put up a reward and everything, a good few hundred it was.”
“Reward? Bit old for a bounty hunter, aren’t you?”
“Cheeky bastard, what d’you reckon?” Ames said, laughing. “Right place, right time, more like. ’Bout bloody time my luck changedn’all.”
Jack leaned into him. “So what you thinking?”
“Dunno. I’ve not really worked it through yet.”
“Well, it might be I’ve a proposition for you. Young fella like that, big with it, no disrespect but you’ll struggle on yourown. Unless you’ve got a weapon?” Ames shook his head quickly and Jack showed him the two revolvers he carried on his belt.“What say we do it together, fifty-fifty, even shares?”
Ames weighed this carefully. “Where would we take him to collect?”
“There’s the police barracks in Boulia, or just hold him here and send word.”
They both watched Tommy. He threw down his cards, won the hand, roaring while the other players groaned. Jack noticed thelice twist and burrow in the tangle of Ames’s beard. “All right,” Ames said, nodding. He spat on his hand and offered it;Jack did the same and they shook.
Jack said, “We’ll get him when he goes to the dunny, catch him with his pizzle in his hand,” and the old man was racked withlaughter that collapsed into a cough. Jack clapped him on the shoulder while he recovered himself, then offered him anotherbeer for the wait.
Chapter 19
Billy and Katherine McBride
A little before sunset the coach trundled up the track and halted in front of the Broken Ridge homestead. The door openedand with great effort Magistrate MacIntyre heaved himself from the carriage, which groaned and rose on its axle once he wasout. He glanced at the house above him then reached back inside for an ivory-handled walking cane, told the driver he wouldn’tbe long. He shuffled forward, then with a grunt of displeasure planted his foot on the staircase, his cane alongside it, andslowly began to climb.
Billy was alone in what used to be the library but now doubled as his billiards room, when Hardy knocked to say the magistratehad arrived. Billy thanked him and threw down his cue and managed to fluke a ball in. He snorted. He still wasn’t any goodat billiards, didn’t even much care for the game, but everyone seemed to be playing it these days. In the homes of other graziers,in the city clubs, billiards had a
