Butterfly Hunter 01 (3 page)

“
So we
really need a better plan than just wandering about at random,
hoping the clues will add up. If they even
are
clues.”

“
I understand,
I really do. And I’m prepared for it all coming to naught. I know I
might get nothing more from this than a rather peculiar holiday
…”

Dave grinned despite
himself. “You don’t seem the type to give up, though.”

“
No. I’d hope
to come back next year, and try again. With you, if you can stand
it; with someone else, if you can’t.”

“
All right,”
said Dave. “I’m glad you said that about having plenty of time. You
realise we’re not going to be leaving Brisbane right away? There
are still things to organise. And if we’re heading north, the Wet’s
really only just ended – the wet season. It ran quite late this
year. There’s no point in hurrying.”

“
From what I
understand of the geography, I don’t think we’ll be heading that
far north.”

“
Aren’t
butterflies generally a tropical creature?”

“
Not these
ones.” Nicholas’s fingers skittered against the edge of the table,
as if he wanted to drum impatiently but was too polite. “When will
we leave, do you think?”

“
A few days at
least. Maybe a week. We need to plan exactly where we’re going, and
if we’re going to be leaving the established roads, then we need to
ask permission of whoever owns the land.”

“
Is that
likely to be a problem?”

“
I shouldn’t
think so; if the owners don’t already know me, they’ll know people
who’ll vouch for me. But it’s only fair to ask before rather than
after, if we can.”

“
Of course. I
understand.”

“
Then it’s a
fair drive, just to get to Cunnamulla. So I’ll leave one day, and
you fly out the next, and I’ll … collect you from the airport.
Again.”

Nicholas’s smile was
quirking irrepressibly.

“
Or I’ll send
a driver to fetch you and bring you to the hotel, maybe. If you’re
lucky.”

“
No, I’d
rather it was you,” Nicholas said with a little more warmth than
might be expected. “And anyway,” he continued with a rather cooler
directness, “I’d rather stay with you. I’d rather you drove me.
Unless there’s some particular reason why not.”

“
It’s a long
way, and there’s not much to see. You’ll get bored.”

Nicholas shrugged. “I’d
rather experience it. I’d rather … get a feel for the
country.”

“
You have no
idea about the distances involved. I mean, you can drive across
England in an afternoon, can’t you?”

“
All the more
reason to, um … broaden my horizons.” The man really had the most
infectious grin.

“
Well
–”

“
It’s like
watching cricket,” Nicholas said, overriding any protest that Dave
had been about to make. “You’re an Australian, you should know
about cricket.”

Dave made a noise tentatively
indicating agreement and conveying an unwillingness to get into an
argument over such a contentious issue just now.

“
It’s like
watching a Test match. It might get a bit tedious on occasion,
watching the full game. But you get a sense of it unfolding that
way. You get a real feel for how the game is playing out. You never
get that from watching the highlights.”

Dave laughed, and
surrendered. “Well, I can’t argue with a cricket
analogy.”

“
My best
guess,” said Nicholas, peering down at the state map and circling a
region with a fingertip, “is that we start around here.” He had
long pale fingers; they were, perhaps, the most elegant thing about
him. Dave watched as they traced lightly across the map as if the
man could feel the land’s contours. “Yes … and then we head further
west, if we don’t find anything there.” After another long moment
passed, Nicholas looked up. “What do you think?”

Dave shook himself out of
his silence. “Area the size of Wales,” he remarked.

“
Yes. I
realise it’s a needle in a haystack and all that, but I have
to
try
. This might be the only thing I –”

When the conclusion wasn’t
forthcoming, Dave prompted, “The only thing you what?”

Nicholas’s gaze remained
fixed on the map. “Never mind.”

Dave let a moment go by,
and then got the conversation back on track. “OK, take me through
the logic of it again. You started with a settler’s
journal.”

“
Yes. Clemence
Hall. She’s not very well known.”

“
And she
mentioned a blue cloud.”

Nicholas nodded
enthusiastically. “They were travelling south–west from the Wyandra
region, taking it slowly. This blue cloud would appear near the
horizon each afternoon. She thought it was a mirage, but it stayed
in the same location while their expedition continued on south. She
wanted to go investigate, but one of the party was quite ill, and
they didn’t have enough water to take another detour.” Nicholas’s
eyes were afire with the possibilities. “And I thought, what could
that blue cloud be, but butterflies rising in the afternoon
sunshine?”

“
All right,”
Dave said. “But then didn’t she say something about being north of
the stone–curlew? If she meant Quilpie, then they weren’t
travelling south–west from Wyandra. Quilpie’s to the
north.”

“
I think she
was referring to a Dreamtime site, not a settlers’
town.”

“
Oh. Of
course.” Dave felt supremely idiotic. Imagine a Pom making that
leap before a dinky–di Aussie …

Nicholas spared him a
sympathetic look. “I’ve been obsessing over this for a while, you
know.”

“
So I guess
you did your research about possible sacred sites? Your butler or
whatever didn’t mention anything to do with the
Dreamtime.”

“
I haven’t
found anything in the Dreamtime stories about the stone–curlew, or
not yet anyway … but I did find a story about the Barcoo grunter –
Great name, by the way.”

“
The fish … ?”
Dave clarified, having to make yet another leap. “What’s that got
to do with curlews?”

“
Yes,
the
Scortum
barcoo
. And the connection is with the
butterflies.”

“
Right …” he
prompted, feeling rather bewildered.

“
The
story ended with the Barcoo grunter ancestor returning to his long
sleep, sinking deep
deep
down into his waterhole, and
pieces of the sky – this is a loose translation, I admit – rose up
to lament and flutter in farewell.”

“
But
…”

“
He was
farewelling his love,” Nicholas supplied, “who lived in the
sky.”

“
Your
butterflies were, like, the Barcoo grunter’s tears?”

“
Yes.”

“
Have
you
seen
a grunter? They’re ugly things.”

Nicholas sat back with a
disapproving sniff. “Even ugly creatures feel love, you know. Even
ugly creatures can create beauty.”

“
Of
course. I –” Dave hardly knew what to say. This contradictory
Englishman had taken that personally, which meant that he must
count himself among the ugly creatures of this world, when it was
surely blindingly obvious to anyone with eyes that … Well. Dave
wasn’t about to tell some guy he’d just met – or indeed
any
guy –
that he was beautiful. Nicholas Goring was strange, perhaps, yet
undeniably beautiful with his long face and longer fingers, his
deep blue gaze and his wicked smile, and the way he lit up when he
talked about his mythical blue butterflies …

And what was Dave even
doing, thinking things like that? About a
bloke?
“All right,” Dave
said, his voice unaccountably rough. “So we need to find out about
sacred sites for stone–curlews and Barcoo grunters, if we can. I
know just who to talk to. I’ll call ahead, but if he’s home then
we’re heading for Charleville first. As long as the sites aren’t
off–limits. There might be secret elements to the story that
–”

“
You think I
don’t know that? Of course I’d respect that.”

Dave let the matter drop
for now. That was the first sign of irritability from a man who’d
survived a hellish twenty–four hours on a plane. Dave himself
wouldn’t have gone half so long without snapping.

“
If you’re in
the mood for a walk,” Dave offered, “the city botanic gardens are
about ten minutes away, on a bend of the river. They’re pretty
cool. And they date back to convict days, so they’re historical as
well.”

Nicholas considered him
for a moment, and then said rather remotely, “All
right.”

“
Stretch your
legs. Get some fresh air.”

A reluctant smile tweaked
the corner of Nicholas’s mouth. “Don’t humour me.”

“
Is that what
I was doing?” Dave asked with mock innocence. “Well, what d’you say
to a stroll around the gardens?”

The smile was small but
genuine by now. “I say yes.”

Dave watched as Nicholas
ambled along, hands snagged in his jeans pockets and long face
turned towards the sun, long eyelashes fanning darkly down over his
cheekbones. In the strong light, the Englishman appeared beyond
pale – almost translucent, like the fine china Dave’s grandmother
used to treasure. So pale and fine, but with an odd tinge of cool
colour, as well. Nicholas looked as if he’d been raised in the
shade all his life. God only knew how he’d cope with the harsh
realities of Australia.

“
You know
about protection, right?” Dave asked.

Nicholas tilted his head to
quirk a suggestive eyebrow at Dave.

“
Sun
protection,” Dave
clarified.

“
Heavens,
can’t I soak in a bit of warmth – just for a few
minutes?”

“
Yeah,
but
only
for a few minutes.” Dave added, “I’m going to buy you a
hat.”

Nicholas laughed. “You
assume I don’t have one? Or that it’s inadequate?”

“
Well
–”

“
You think I
came out here equipped with my grandfather’s old pith helmet, do
you?”

“
Mate, I am
going to buy you a genuine Akubra.”

The man’s expression
turned fondly droll. Or drolly fond. Whichever was worse for Dave’s
peace of mind. But all Nicholas said was a soft “Thank
you.”

The two of them wandered
on quietly for a while, until they reached the river, and turned to
follow along the bank. Well, Dave turned – and then he had to reach
back and snag Nicholas by the elbow and turn him before he walked
off the path and right into the water, he was so busy gazing up at
the trees and the sky.

“
Mate, you’ve
got to look where you’re going,” Dave advised.

Nicholas murmured something
appreciative, and continued on with his head metaphorically in the
wide blue expanse above.

“
OK,” Dave
announced, “it’s time for The Talk.”

“
Oh dear!”
said Nicholas, though he didn’t sound very worried.

“
I’ve let you
talk me into a few things today, but you’ve got to understand that
when we’re out there, what I say goes. I make the rules, I make the
decisions, I get the last word. Every time. Do you
understand?”

Nicholas pulled a long
face. “Well –”

“
No quibbles,
no arguments, no second–guessing. This isn’t a
democracy.”

“
The whole
point of this is to find the butterflies.”

“
I’ll find
your butterflies for you, if we possibly can. But that’s only ever
our second priority, all right? Our first is to return home, safe
and whole. Those are my priorities, and those are going to be your
priorities, too.”

Nicholas immediately
brightened. “Oh, if that’s all –”

“
No,
that’s not
all
.”

“
What else,
then?”

“
I mean, you
can’t just dismiss it like that. This is serious. There aren’t many
places left in the world where your survival depends on you alone,
but this is one of them. And your survival depends on you and on
me.”

“
I see.”
Nicholas turned his face up towards the sun again, though he no
longer seemed to be basking in it quite so happily. “I
understand.”

“
Do you?” Dave
sounded sour and sceptical, he knew he did.

Nicholas laughed. “You
bring me to this beautiful place to read me the Riot Act … ? How am
I meant to take you seriously?”

“
Mr Goring,”
Dave began with stiff formality, “I really must insist
–”

“
All right,
all right! The only rule is to listen to you, and do as you tell
me. I get it.”

“
And you
agree?”

“
Yes! For
heaven’s sake,” the man softly grumbled.