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The windmill stood stark black against the red glow of the setting sun, its steel frame criss-crossing the red sky. All that could be heard was the constant squeak, squeak as the mill turned slowly in the evening breeze, “I must grease those gears tomorrow,” she thought.
She was sitting on the top step of the veranda; the rifle still warm from the round she had fired, lay across her lap. Her mind was racing now, how had it all come to this, what have I done? Linda was thirty four years old, but her appearance belied that fact, the past ten years had taken their toll on her, the harshness of the Australian outback, the constant loneliness and now the events of the past few hours had left her washed out and drained, to the point of complete exhaustion. She had coped quite well up until these last few hours, that’s when everything went horribly out of control, this climax had been building up for the past two weeks.
She let the 357 rifle slide from her lap, it slid down the bare boards of the steps and came to rest on the dusty red earth below, she started to sob and her tears ran down her cheeks and mingled with the blood from the cut across her lip. “Missus, missus! Where are you?” The familiar voice came out of the now complete darkness; it was Tom, along with his wife Dora.
Tom and Dora had been on the cattle station for more than thirty years. Tom as a stockman and Dora as the kitchen help. They were the only aboriginal people left on the homestead, all of the others had gone walkabout or had been told to leave the station by Linda’s now deceased husband Brian. “Over here on the steps Tom” she said in a whisper through her sobs. Tom and Dora came quickly to her side, stepping around the body that lay twenty or so feet from the base of the veranda steps. “Is he dead Tom?” Linda asked, “Don’t know missus, I’ll check” Tom replied. He went back to where Brian lay and called back “Yeah, he’s a goner missus, you killed him good.” “Oh my god” cried Linda “I have murdered my husband.” “He only got what was coming to him” said Dora in a vain attempt to justify what had just happened, “He was a horrible man, and deserved this end.” she added. “What you gunna do now?” Tom asked Linda. She was still in a state of shock and could not think straight, “We should get you out of here” said Tom, “No Tom” replied Linda, “It was self defence, and you two can vouch for that.” “The police won’t believe us.” Dora added, Brian was well known in the “Red Heart” of Australia’s outback, where most communication was done over the two way radio that every station in this sparsely populated and arid region used, but what they did not know about was Brian’s drinking and violent temper, this coupled with his complete loathing of the local aboriginal people made him a bitter man, he did not realise it, but it was their labour and knowledge that made this desolate land workable.
This was in contrast to Brian’s father, Harry, who had the greatest respect for the local people and had built this station up from nothing, starting out buying the land back in the thirties.
Tom and Dora were his first employees and a mutual respect for each other had grown over the years. Harry had died in 1973 at the age of sixty two, many say from overwork, but in truth, it was cancer.In the three years since Brian had taken over the running of the station there had been a long drought and cattle prices had dropped to rock bottom, this led to his drinking more and more and his attitude to the natives to become more jaded. Most of his aboriginal workforce had left the station over the past two weeks, simply because they could not tolerate his abusive behaviour towards them anymore. The last group left the station the day before, after they had held a meeting down in the dry creek bed to the west of the station. Brian had taken a whip to one of the teenage boys for wasting some water by leaving a water tank valve open so that it overflowed. This oversight was really of no consequence, because the windmill was pumping water from the Great Artesian Basin, a great underground sea of fresh water that lay far below this semi-arid land. The incident was a little inconvenient but no more than that. Brian had started off yelling at the boy, and when the boy hung his head in shame, Brian took this gesture as a sign of weakness and swiped the boy across the face with the coiled whip he always carried. The plaited leather of the whip had torn into the boy’s face and left pieces of skin hanging loosely from the young mans cheeks, the boy fell to his knees and with that Brian had delivered a kick to the boys head and simply turned and walked away, muttering “bloody useless blacks.”
Two of the stockmen who were working in the maintenance shed had witnessed this outburst of violence, and unbeknown to Brian had called a meeting of all the aboriginal workers and their families down at the creek bed for ten o’clock that night.The meeting was chaired by Tom, who told them all right from the outset that he and Dora were going to stay, no matter what the others decided, this bought about an uproar from some of the participants at the meeting. “Tom, you have been treated just as badly as the rest of us” said Jackie, “Remember when those two white boys that worked here last year gave you a hiding and Brian did nothing about it, saying you probably deserved it.” “Yeah, I remember” said Tom “And I ain’t never gonna forget it, but me and Dora will stay for the sake of the missus, she’s been good and kind to all of us.”
Finally when the meeting was over, it was decided that they would all leave at daybreak tomorrow, all that is except Tom and Dora. Linda had known about the meeting and the decision they had made to leave, but was afraid to tell her husband, her decision not to tell him had started the events that culminated in his death.
Early the next morning, Brian had gone down to the where the aboriginal workers were usually camped to get them going on the muster, he had two hundred head of cattle to get into the yards by Thursday, it was now Tuesday which meant they only had two days to get the cattle in and ready to be trucked into Alice Springs. All he found was an empty camp, the aboriginal stockmen and their families had gone during the night, and they had simply packed up and left. Brian leapt back into his old pickup, and with the rear wheels spinning and kicking up a storm of red dust, he powered away back to the house.He stormed up the steps of the veranda and into the house, “Linda”, he shouted, “Where’s all them blacks gone?” “What do you mean” she replied. “You know what I mean, you know everything that goes on with those lazy bastards.” Linda tried to look surprised at the fact they had left. “Maybe they have gone on walkabout for a day or two” she suggested. “Walkabout!” he shouted. “I’ve got two hundred head to get in and they’ve gone walkabout.”
He sat down at the kitchen table and yelled at Linda, “Where’s my rum?” A feeling of dread came over Linda as she went to the larder and got him a bottle of rum, she knew it was useless to try and talk him out of it she may even get a fat lip if she tried, all she could manage as an argument was “But it’s only eight in the morning.” Linda knew that at first he would drink his rum with a little water, but as she had seen before, the next bottle would be drunk straight because once he started he would drink until he passed out.He sat there at the table, drinking and mumbling about how the stockmen had let him down, after about two hours of feeling sorry for himself he threw the empty bottle at the screen door, it went right through the screen and onto the veranda where Linda was sitting, trying to keep out of his way.
Linda had had enough and walked back into the kitchen and told him “If you had treated your workers better, you wouldn’t be in this position.” This enraged him and he pushed the chair back to get up and it toppled over backwards, he then picked up the chair and threw it at Linda, the chair missed her and skidded across the floor where it came to rest against the wall. “Get me another bottle you bitch.” he yelled. “No I won’t” she replied. “You will do what I tell you to do” he shouted. “Get out of my sight you bitch, why don’t you go walkabout with the other useless bastards and leave me alone.”
Linda knew she had to find a safe place for the rest of day, or at least until he passed out. She had a place where she would go when she wanted to be alone and think, it was down by a waterhole in the creek and she would sit in the shade of a big ghost gum and wonder what her life would have been had she never met Brian on that fateful day at Niagara Falls and she had stayed in Canada.
It was so quiet and peaceful sitting there in her ‘special place’ that it was only when she saw a flock of budgerigars swoop in for their evening drink of water that she realised she had been sitting there for hours. “I had better get back” she thought, “He will be passed out by now and hopefully he’ll have calmed down by the morning.” As she moved to get up she startled a mob of kangaroos that were drinking on the far side of the billabong and they hopped off into a stand of gum trees that were growing near the bank of the waterhole, she had been so deep in thought, she hadn’t even noticed they were there. As she approached the homestead her heart sank, she could hear him, he was still on his feet ranting and raving, at first she thought there was someone with him but the closer she got she realised he was alone and out of his head in a drunken rage. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Brian was at a cattleman’s conference in Wyoming, North America trading ideas with other cattlemen who were raising cattle in semi-arid country similar to the type of country that Brian was working with.
With the conference over, Brian had decided to head up north to Canada, he had always wanted to see Niagara Falls, often thinking how he would use those millions of gallons of water spilling over the Horseshoe Falls everyday, on his property in the dry red heart of Australia.
He was taking in some of the local sights when he saw this beautiful woman, standing at the railing watching the dark green water tumble over the falls. He excused himself and asked her “Could you tell me how far it is to Toronto from here?” “It’s about a two hour drive up the QEW” she replied. “Would you have any idea how much a taxi would cost to get from here to Toronto?” Brian added. “I really don’t know, but I am sure it would be quite expensive” Linda told him. “Oh!” he said, “That doesn’t really matter, I have to get to Toronto airport by tomorrow, to catch a flight back to Australia.” Linda smiled at the ruggedly handsome man and said “I thought that was an Australian accent I was hearing.” “Yeah” he said with his eyes focused on the ground, “I’m an Aussie.” Linda thought this was kind of cute, and said “My name’s Linda.” “Mines Brian.” He replied. “Pleased to meet you Brian. “So you need to get to Pearson airport by tomorrow, eh?” “Yeah” said Brian, “I have been at a conference in Wyoming and as I said, I am due to fly back tomorrow, but I think I fly out from Toronto airport, not Pearson” Linda smiled again and said “Pearson is the name of the Toronto international airport, they are one and the same.” Brian started laughing and said “Well, I guess you can tell, I’m from the bush.” “Not at all.” Linda said “You’re in a strange country and you can’t be expected to have any local knowledge.” “Well, I feel like Billy from the bush.” Said Brian. This little gem started Linda laughing, and soon they were both laughing and completely unaware of passer-by’s looking at them strangely.
Linda felt a real attraction to this “Billy from the bush” and decided right there and then to throw caution to the wind and offer him a ride to Toronto. “I’m driving back to Toronto later this afternoon and you are welcome to hitch a ride with me, if you want?” She was quietly hoping that he would agree to her suggestion, for it had been years since she had done anything spontaneous and out of the ordinary, and plus she felt completely comfortable and at ease with her newly made Aussie friend. “Are you sure, you hardly know me, not that I’m a serial killer or anything like that.” Brian joked.” “I sure hope not.” Linda laughed back. “But the offer still stands, if you want a lift.” Linda and Brian filled in the rest of the afternoon by taking a ride on the Maid of the Mist, a boat tour that powers up the Niagara River very close to base of the falls, where they were both soaked with the spray and mist from the water as it came careening over the lip of the falls and plunged down onto the boulders below. They also went down a tunnel where the Niagara Falls Authority had carved out the solid rock and provided viewing ports so the tourists could get a view of the falls from behind the water fall. The afternoon was full of laughter and fun, Linda had not felt so happy and carefree for quite sometime. Lately she had thought her life was stuck in a rut and going nowhere, but not today! she had this wonderful feeling that something new and exiting was looming in her future.