Dust Off the Bones

it you who invited the press? The fact is, you know nothing of policing, or of the colonies—you have not earned the right to question me. You are a parasite, men like you, feeding off this country we’ve created while stabbing her in the back at the same time. This man would see you ruined, ladies and gentlemen. These city dwellers telling you how and where you should live—I don’t see them conducting this kind of inquisition in their own backyards. Out there on the coast they live like barbarians, as indeed does Henry Wells: without morals, without backbone, without God. What do they care about Bewley, about your struggles, about what it takes to survive out here? You are fodder to their ambition, a means to advance their agenda and little more. Mark my words, if they could, they would raze this town and return this entire district to the blacks, then retreat to their mansions and over cigars and fine brandy congratulate themselves on a job well done. They would comb through your history, as they are attempting today with mine, and throw you in the cells for ever having protected your families, your livelihoods, your town. This man buggers his way through Brisbane one back alley at a time, yet dares to come here and pour shame on you all, with that self-same condescension and hypocrisy you have always received from the coast.” He pointed directly at Henry Wells. “Ladies and gentlemen, here is the long reach of government. Here is Brisbane’s favorite son. Here is the authority of the old motherland that once shipped out your grandfathers and delivered them to these shores in chains, shackles you have been fighting to be free of all your lives. This man is an enemy of Australia! Do not let his conspiracy stand!”

Absolute bedlam in the courtroom. Men surged forward, pushing through the crowd, scrambling over railings and seating to get to Henry Wells. Coins and fruit were thrown at him. Something struck him on the back of the head. One man got as far as the table, screamed “Maggot!” in Henry’s face and took a swing. He only just missed. Knuckles skinned Henry’s chin. The man lost his balance and went tumbling and Henry ran around the table and hid on the other side. Up on the bench, Magistrate MacIntyre pounded his gavel incessantly but the noise and his yelling were drowned out by the uproar as Noone smiled to himself in satisfaction, straightened his suit, and eased himself backward, ready to step down.

The gunshot brought the room to an abrupt standstill. Vitriol was replaced by screams. From the back of the courtroom Donnaghymarched forward waving his revolver above his head. He came to the front and stood beneath the judge’s bench and brandishedit at the crowd, which as one pressed itself toward the back of the room.

“Any of you cunts wants it there’s a bullet for you here.”

MacIntyre went on beating his gavel long into the silence. Finally he let it fall still. Chest heaving, flushed and breathless,the man looked ready to expire. It took a long time until he was able to speak again, holding up his hand and wheezing, “That’senough, Donnaghy. You’ve put a hole in my bloody roof.”

Eyes upcast to the ceiling. Sure enough: a circle of bright sunshine.

“Now listen,” MacIntyre panted. “Any more of that horseshit from anyone and I’ll clear this whole damn room. Get out fromunder that table, Mr. Wells, for God’s sake. Donnaghy, go and stand next to him, anyone comes within two feet you either arrestthem or shoot them, I don’t really care. And not another word out of you either, Henry, or you’ll meet the same end.” He tooka long breath and flopped back in his chair. “We only have one more witness to hear from then we can all go home. Come onup, Billy, let’s get this bloody thing done.”

Noone made his way down from the witness box. He and Billy crossed in the aisle. Noone gripped his arm and whispered in hisear, “Your turn now, Billy-boy, don’t go fucking this up,” and as Noone sat down next to Katherine she regarded him coldlythen slid one seat farther along.

Chapter 25

Inquest

On leaden feet Billy trudged to the witness box: a thousand-yard shuffle, a thousand-yard stare. Katherine hardly knew him.The stooped shoulders, the bowed head, no longer her husband at all. He gripped the sides of the box as he climbed in, sworehis oath so quietly she couldn’t hear him, then sat down and waited, his eyes furtively flicking to her in the crowd.

“Mr. McBride—” the magistrate began, then corrected himself. “Or is Billy more appropriate, given we’ve known each other so long?”

It took Billy a while to register the question. “That’s fine,” he said.

“Good. Now, Billy, I’m sorry for getting you up here, and for putting you through all this, I can see just by looking at youthe toll today has had. Only, when someone makes an allegation as serious as this, there’s a process that must be gone through—youunderstand, I’m sure?”

Billy nodded.

“So let’s get right to it, shall we: Were you listening when Chief Inspector Noone gave his evidence just now, concerningthe events of your family’s murder and the expedition that followed?”

“Yes.”

“And do you agree with him, as far as you’re able? Was his evidence accurate?”

A beat before he answered. “It was.”

MacIntyre shuffled through his papers and held a sheet aloft. “Billy, I have here a written testimony signed by you and your brother, Tommy, dated the nineteenth of December 1885—could you take a look at it please.”

He handed Billy the statement. A glance, then he gave it back.

“You recognize that document?”

“Yes.”

“That’s your signature on the bottom there?”

“It is.”

“Have you had a chance to reread your testimony before today?”

“I have.”

“And do you stand by its contents? Is there anything you’d like to correct?”

Billy cleared his throat and shifted in his chair and his voice when he spoke was feeble and meek.