“All of which tallied with the account the brothers later gave when I met them at the Sullivan homestead. They had found theirold blackboy’s revolver discarded at the scene—Joseph, there had been a falling-out—and when they’d first arrived back atthe property had seen a sizable group of natives fleeing west. Hence the footprints.” Noone glanced at Billy. “They were remarkablyclear in their recollections, given their ages and what they’d just been through.”
Mother in the bedroom, half her head gone; Billy begs Tommy not to look. Trying to protect him, to somehow shoulder this all himself, though the weight is already too much to bear. He finds Mary bleeding out under the bed in their room, tries to lift her but he can’t, his hands slick with blood, all his strength gone. He calls for Tommy to help him, they carry her outside, Billy’s mind swirling with what to do next. His decision, his responsibility; he’s head of the family now.
“So you went out after them?” MacIntyre asked. “This Joseph and whoever else?”
“We did. Myself and my troopers, plus John Sullivan, his man Locke, and the two young McBride brothers, though I knew civilians were not allowed.”
“Why not?”
“It was against operational rules.”
“In which case, why take them?”
Joseph’s gun is not enough, Sullivan tells him; Billy will have to lie. Say he saw a mob of natives fleeing from the house, whatever gets Noone on their side. And he does so, he fabricates the whole tale, taking that burden so Tommy doesn’t have to, urging him to stay out of it, and to stay behind. But he won’t listen, his little brother, stubborn as he is, and in the end Noone insists it’s both of them or neither, Sullivan paying him handsomely to allow the boys to come.
“Necessity. We were heading into hostile, unmapped territory in the height of summer and drought. John Sullivan knew the regionbetter than any man, his family had been there for generations. I believed his knowledge of waterholes and the terrain wouldbe invaluable to the mission, and so it proved.”
“And the boys?”
“They were the only ones who could identify Joseph. Naturally, I would have rather they didn’t come. But it is a well-knowntactic for a fugitive native to conceal himself among his own kind, much like the zebra on the African veldt—in a large groupthey can all look so alike. Luckily for us, the brothers knew the culprit personally. Without them, we would have had a hellof a task. As I recall, I offered to take only Billy, the eldest, so as to spare the younger brother the hardship. But theywere newly orphaned and keen to stay together, understandably, so I allowed them both to come.”
“Did you arm them?”
“Of course not.”
“Did you allow them to participate in the attempted arrest?”
“No.”
“All right. What happened next?”
“Well, after a few days of tracking, we came upon Joseph and his savages in the lowlands just before the ranges out west. The murderers were on foot and desperate, we caught them easily enough, and by the authority of Queen Victoria ordered them to lay down their spears. They refused. There was a gin with them—that is to say, an Aboriginal female—also armed, plus a pack of wild dogs; it really was quite the melee. They did not comply with my instructions. One of the blacks put a spear through Raymond Locke, missed his heart by inches, it was a wonder he survived. Of course, we retaliated. The spear thrower was shot and killed, but the others escaped into the ranges, forcing us to give chase. By now it was early evening and the light was fading, but my troopers were expert trackers and we soon found them hidden in a narrow canyon high in the hills. Again, they refused to surrender, so we had no choice but to engage. Sadly, in the fighting, all three suspects were shot and killed, including Joseph, whom Billy McBride positively identified. It was a terrible situation. I regret how it all played out. But the fact is, we attempted to arrest them on a number of occasions, then in fear for our lives had no choice but to return fire.”
Billy sitting in the canyon, staring into the campfire, the two native men chained together on the ground and the woman and young girl huddled behind him on the ledge. Joseph is not among them, and somewhere deep down Billy knows he never was, probably isn’t out here at all. But they have started this now, this reprisal, there is no turning back. If he and Tommy are to survive after, if they’re to find a place in this world, this is a test they must pass. Suddenly Sullivan claps his hands and drags the woman to a nearby cave, urges Billy to take a turn. And he does, he follows, Tommy begging him not to go. Sullivan has his revolver pressed to her head as Billy lowers himself down. She is turned away from him, facedown on the rock, but he can feel her trembling, feel her tears. He finishes and stands and Sullivan shakes his hand and he returns to camp in a daze. Tommy will no longer look at him, something broken between them now.
Billy snatched his hand back from Katherine, cupped his nose and mouth, a long breath wobbling out of him, his eyes anguished, crazed. Katherine touched his leg lightly. He didn’t seem to register she was even there. It was outrageous that they could do this, make him relive it all, and in public too. He’d never even talked to her about it. She’d not realized it still affected him as much as it obviously did.
“And what happened to the bodies?” MacIntyre asked.
“Ordinarily we would have buried them, afforded them proper Christian rites, but again our hand was forced and, terrible thoughit was, we had
