Dust Off the Bones

horse he’d had since Beau died; thefirst had been a mistake, another dun-gray gelding he’d hoped would be just like his old mate. No horse could have been. Beauwas a true one-off. He’d died not long after they’d got here, like he’d been waiting to see Tommy right. Those thousands ofmiles he’d carried him: all over Queensland, from Bewley to St. George; the long slog into the center then the stock routesyear on year; south through the ranges and goldfields, then across into Victoria and finally here, until one day he simplylay down like he was knackered, and died. Tommy had wept when he found him, held tight to the cooling flank, then in the daysfollowing had toiled to dig a grave big enough, now a lonely little marker in a copse of sapling trees. He’d mourned thathorse far longer than he should have—what would his father have said?—but was now quite taken with Lady, they’d been togetheralmost six years. He liked her steady temperament. Just riding her kept him calm.

They’d built the second house about a mile away from the first, put some distance between them, just in case. Arthur hadn’t wanted to be too near the track anyway, the risk of inviting trouble, he knew how folks could be. He’d been right about that, the locals had never accepted him, not once they’d learned he wasn’t just Tommy’s boy. Arthur didn’t care, instead contenting himself back here, with his work, his land, with Rosie; especially so with her.

Arthur’s horse was already saddled and hitched to the verandah rail; as soon as Tommy came within sight of the windows thefront door opened and there he was, hobbling down the steps, shouting, “You’re late. What time d’you call this?”

Tommy chuckled. He rode up to the house. Arthur was as thin and wizened as he’d always been, his hair and beard fully gray,but his spirit remained undimmed. He walked bandy-legged, like he was forever saddle-sore, his joints twisted and gnarledlike roots. It took him a few attempts to get into the saddle. Tommy knew better than to help. He also knew what it meantto Arthur, the two of them still doing this, working together every day.

Rosie came out with their food parcels. She was short and plump and healthy, with hair braided tight to her head. Down thesteps, eyes alight with affection, she handed a parcel to each man. “It’s not much but it’ll keep you living—I’ve a stew onfor supper that’ll fill you both to the gills. Morning, Bobby-love, how you been?”

“Ah, can’t complain. Not like this old bugger, mind. Not even got a hello.”

“Should bloody sack you,” Arthur grumbled. “Nearer lunchtime just about.”

Rosie rolled her eyes. “He’s ten minutes late if anything, quit flapping your gums.” She turned to Tommy. “Will you be overfor supper tonight, love?”

He thought of Emily. They rarely saw each other two nights running, as if not wanting to push their luck. Or arouse suspicion,though everyone in town already knew, Emily far more concerned with appearances than Tommy had ever been. But then she hadto spend her days among them, depended on their custom in the bakery—everything would be so much easier if she just came andlived up here.

“Aye, that’d be lovely. Looking forward to the stew.”

They rode away together, Tess following at their heels. Trotting lightly over open country, into the pastures beyond. Flat grassland up here, rolling green plains, occasional trees and hedgerows, not a clump of spinifex or scrub grass in view.

“She came by again, I take it,” Arthur said, once they were clear of the house.

“Might have done, aye.”

“No might have done about it.”

“Why d’you say that?”

“Rode in late and smiling, that’s why.”

Tommy laughed. The two of them side by side together, like it had always been. “She had the shop to open, the ovens to geton. I rode her down this morning. Might have said some things I shouldn’t.”

Arthur looked at him sharply. “You stupid bugger. What did you say?”

“Not like that. Just got a bit ahead of myself. Talking about her moving in.”

“And? What did she make of it?”

“Said one day, maybe. She won’t let go of the shop.”

“Well, don’t ask her to. Then you’d be making her choose.”

“So how the hell do I get her out here?”

“Let her do it on her own terms. Shit, Tommy, buy her a horse so she can ride to and fro, then she could keep the shop ontoo.”

“I’m talking about marrying her, Arthur.”

“Why can’t she do both?”

“Get married and still work?”

“Now there’s a thought,” Arthur said.

They spent all that day in the fields with the cattle. Arthur tired in the early afternoon and Tommy left him dozing beneath a tree, woke him up two hours later; Arthur denied he’d been asleep. At day’s end they rode back home then separated, each to his own place, Tommy calling out to make sure Rosie saved him some stew. He stabled Lady, gave himself a wash, found a clean shirt, and slung it on. There was still a little wine left from last night, so he poured himself a glass and rolled a cigarette and took them onto the front verandah to watch the sunset. Tess wandered around the side of the house and hopped up onto the deck, lay down at his feet on the boards. Tommy lit his cigarette. He sipped the dark red wine. The gully falling away beneath him, the birds flocking for the trees, the chaos of their twilight dance. He felt dangerously on the cusp of something. As if teetering on an edge. Happiness, contentment, love . . . these weren’t words he’d ever recognized, or certainly not for many years, hadn’t thought it possible they could apply to him, yet here they were. It scared the shit out of him, honestly. The risk of having something unwarranted, something he might then lose. But he couldn’t stop his thoughts from spiraling, plans fluttering over him like falling leaves. Emily living up here, the house painted and prettied-up with all