Heart of the Outback (26 page)

It was cooler in the ravine, with the high earth and boulder hills angling narrowly down. A strong breeze blew then eddied, making whistling sounds amongst the trees and rocks. They left their mounts after tying the reins around a stringy bark tree and with Francey toting her photographic equipment, headed up along a narrow track sprinkled with boulders. A rocky overhang jutted out like a protecting umbrella, with the ground slanting up towards the back.

“This is one of the Kalkadoon’s campsites. See the ash marks in the rock from their fires? Go to the back of the cave. You’ll have to bend over a bit because you’re tall. That’s where you’ll see the paintings. Have fun.”

“You’re not coming?”

“I’ve seen them before, lots of times. I’ll make a fire to boil the billy. By the time you’re through the tea should be ready.”

Francey did as Natalie had instructed and, bent over almost double, she half walked, half crawled to the back of the overhang, where anyone sheltering would have had the most protection. The paintings were there. Almost a hundred random drawings, some etched into the sandstone like an engraving, others painted on with varying shades of ochre and clay which, over time, had begun to fade.

Francey set the tripod up, wishing she’d brought a portable set of lights with her. She’d have to fiddle with the aperture and the timing mechanism to do these subjects justice. She spent a good three-quarters of an hour filming studies of hoop cranes, skeletonised fish, a flock of emus, a kangaroo in full flight and several stick figures. Representations of humans perhaps, she thought, maybe even an ancient family.

What she photographed had great meaning for her. This was history. The ancient artists, primitive and simple in their style, may have passed into history but they had left something that endured through time to let those who followed know they’d once been here. She shivered at the symbolism of it all and was more than a little moved. Somehow, the paintings struck an emotional chord within her and she knew this wasn’t the first time she had experienced such unexpected depth of feeling here at Murrundi Downs. Even though she remained at a loss to explain it.

She stayed until the light began to fade and all the jiggling with the camera settings wouldn’t result in a half-decent shot. Packing up, she made her way down the rocky slope to where Natalie had a rug set out. Plates of cakes and biscuits and two enamel mugs of billy tea steamed invitingly.

“How did it go?”

“Wonderful,” Francey said, smiling. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Natalie smiled back. “My pleasure. You must be hungry after all that activity.” She pointed to the cakes and the tea. “Tuck in, they’re good.” Then, raising her face to the sky she gauged how much
daylight was left. “We’ll have to do some hard riding on the way back to beat the dark.”

Francey nodded in agreement as she enjoyed two cup cakes and dunked a biscuit in her tea, relishing every morsel.

Afterwards they repacked their horses and Natalie mounted first. She looked down at the remains of the fire and said, “Francey, kick sand over that, will you. There’s not much chance of causing a fire here, but one should do the right thing.”

Francey did so and then, as she looked up Natalie’s horse suddenly reared, then sprang forward and bolted down the ravine in the opposite direction to which they’d come. The reins were hanging loose and Natalie lurched forward to grab the horse’s mane. Pharaoh was out of control!

“Natalie!” Francey screamed after her.

Forgetting the fire, she put her foot in the stirrup and made to mount but to her frustration, the saddle slipped off and fell in a heap beside Astra. Damn. Who had loosened the saddle’s girth? She glanced up again to see Natalie disappearing around the bend in the ravine, holding on for dear life. With a grunt she picked the saddle up and put it on the patient Astra.

Worried about Natalie she mounted quickly and gave chase. As she emerged from the ravine she fully expected to see Natalie and Pharaoh somewhere in the distance. She saw nothing and no-one. She stood up in the stirrups to get a better view. Nothing! She shook her head in disbelief. It was as if the earth had opened up and swallowed Natalie and Pharaoh.

Where could they have got to? Had Pharaoh thrown Natalie? If so, surely she would see some
evidence, the horse … a figure on the ground. She scanned the surrounding area, straining her eyes for a glimpse of some movement, some form of life. Nothing remotely human. Then she studied the ground trying to find a trail, hoof prints, anything, but the ground was too rocky. No evidence existed that a horse had passed this way.

An awareness of the terrible stillness descended on her. She licked her dry lips and frowned. Natalie was an expert horsewoman, she would soon get Pharaoh under control again, and then she’d come back for her. Of course she would. Her blue-green eyes surveyed all she could see. Empty undulating plains, hillocks, straggly gums and spinifex.

She frowned. Which way was Murrundi?

What should she do? Don’t panic, was the thought that immediately came to mind.

Should she wait here or return to the campfire, where Natalie would expect to find her? She looked at her watch. An hour to sunset. Perhaps she should ride out the other end of the ravine and try to work her way back but, which way was back? She didn’t have a clue. She hadn’t paid enough attention to landmarks or anything because Natalie had been her guide. Besides to her, a novice, they all looked pretty much the same. What was it Les had said to her, more then once? That if someone got lost in the bush or became disorientated, they should stay put. That was safer than moving around and perhaps becoming more lost, though she wasn’t sure how she could be more lost than ordinary
lost
!

She looked around her, at the stark countryside, willing Natalie to appear. She didn’t. Finally, sighing,
she turned Astra around and retraced her steps to the campfire which had stopped smouldering. Darkening shadows were climbing down the ravine arm in arm with an accompanying chill. Stay calm, she told herself but already her pulse had started to race and apprehension was stiffening her spine.

Now, with only half an hour of daylight left, Francey was forced to reassess her situation. It seemed clear that for whatever reason, Natalie wasn’t going to or couldn’t return. Dear God, she hoped she was all right. So, what were the alternatives? She sighed again, it looked like a night in the ravine. How bad could that be? She dismounted and scrambled towards the fire, poking about with a stick. Maybe she could get it going again. After several frustrating minutes she stopped. No such luck!

Okay, plan B. What did she have with her? No lighting, no food or water but at a pinch she could use Astra’s saddle blanket for warmth, though her nose wrinkled up at the thought of the smell. Oh, well, she said to herself stoically, she would just have to make the best of it … until morning.

She removed the saddle and blanket, led Astra to a clump of yellow grass so she could feed and dragged the saddle up under the overhang just as sunset extinguished all light.

When darkness fell, it enveloped everything. It was blacker than anything she had experienced. Blacker than when she had been on the muster where they’d taken care to keep the fire banked all night. And the wind had dropped, causing an eerie stillness. It was going to be a long, uncomfortable night but she took heart in the fact that at first light the
Murrundi people would send out a search party. Natalie had probably told Alison Wontow where they were going, so all she had to do was get through the night and everything would be fine. By tomorrow evening she’d be laughing about the escapade.

But despite all the mental bolstering up, tentacles of fear began to nibble at the edges of her mind, drawing power from the darkness and her own insecurity. What if Natalie couldn’t get back to Murrundi? What if she hadn’t told anyone where they were going? What if …?

The blackness pressed in on her and she wrapped her arms around her torso, hugging and rocking herself, trying to dredge up some inner strength. The darkness was so thick she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. She closed her eyes and the blackness became softer, more reasonable, less threatening.

But try as she might she couldn’t stop the voice that repeated in her head until the trembling began in her arms and legs and finally overcame her. You’re alone … alone …
alone.

A
s a small child, Francey had been afraid of the dark. Afraid of sounds she couldn’t recognise and shadows that seemed unnatural and threatening. Now, as the blackness enclosed her, those childhood fears resurfaced. It was like being in a void, a terrible nothingness.

She could hear her heart beating, the pace increasing as fear won over reason and the blood began to course heavily through her veins. Even her breathing sounded different, laboured. Her nerve ends tingled for no reason. Everything had become highly accentuated because of the dark.

Her hearing was twice as acute, and tuned in to the night sounds. She could hear Astra’s bridle clinking, and her occasional neigh or hoof stomp. The sound of the breeze which had died before sunset returned to stir the shrubs and trees. Branches scraped against rock, leaves rustled, and the cold
intensified, working its way through her clothes, her skin, to her very bones until she began to shiver.

Sitting on the hard rock beneath the overhang Francey tried to roll herself into a tight ball. She drew her knees up towards her chest, clasped her arms about them to hold them there, and let her head fall forward onto her knees. She wrapped the horsy smelling blanket tight around her shoulders, vainly trying to find a modicum of warmth but she knew this was as comfortable as she’d get. Now, if only she could fall sleep!

She couldn’t. Never had she felt so wide awake and so alone. She tried to pep her courage up with the reminder that this was only one night. With mock bravado she convinced herself that she could get through this, and when she was back at Murrundi, she’d laugh about the experience with CJ and the others.

She wondered if Natalie was all right, or was she stuck somewhere in the bush like her, alone? And then she mentally replayed the events from the time she’d kicked sand onto the fire. She shook her mop of black hair in consternation at what had happened.
Nothing
should have happened. For the life of her she didn’t know what had made Pharaoh bolt. He was a frisky horse, but she’d watched Natalie handle him with ease all afternoon. So her sudden inability to control him was puzzling, in the extreme.

Scrunched up defensively against the blackness she tried to remember what Les and Alison and Shellie had said about being in the bush, about surviving. Already her mouth felt dry and it was becoming hard to salivate. By tomorrow morning she
would be really thirsty. Dehydration. Les said that became the real danger for anyone lost in the bush without water. In the summer, because of the temperature, one could expect to last only a day or two in such conditions. But this was August, one didn’t sweat or need as much water, she reassured herself. Besides, by midmorning she’d be found and on her way back to Murrundi.

The wind strengthened, whistling under the overhang, buffeting her as she sat there. The rock beneath her was stone cold and the chill evening began to make her shiver. She yawned. God, she was tired but the cold, the darkness, the wind,
her fear
, stopped her from relaxing enough to fall sleep.

What a stupid damned thing to have happened. She yawned again and closed her eyes, trying every trick she could think of to fall asleep. Counting sheep, saying the rosary, singing songs to herself, nothing worked. For Francey sleep became as elusive as warmth on this cold winter’s night.

As the first grey light of dawn peeped over the top of the ravine an exhausted sleep finally settled over her. She had shivered most of the night, cramped as the cold seeped into all her muscles, and had ached from the effort of trying to mentally keep the chill at bay.

The cloudy sky obscured the sun and stopped any morning warmth from seeping into the depth of the ravine. She shivered in her sleep. Her body now on its side, she used the saddle for a pillow and had the old musty blanket draped over her torso. Her knees were drawn up and her hands lay pressed between them, subconsciously seeking whatever warmth she could.

Francey woke with a start. A noise. A rock from the back of the overhang had come loose. With one eye open she watched the fist-sized rock roll down the slope onto the ravine floor. Daylight. Thank God.

Unkinking her slender frame she sat up, stretched and moaned at the stiffness of her body — she ached from head to toe. She blinked a couple of times against the light and then focused on her watch. Eleven fifteen. Midmorning! She should have felt refreshed but she didn’t. As her brain became truly awake she did a mental calculation. They, someone, should have reached her by now.

She tried to swallow but there was no saliva in her mouth. She coughed and then moaned as her stiff muscles objected to the activity. Why weren’t they here? What could be keeping them? Aahhh, they might be looking for Natalie too, so it could take longer. God, how much longer? She looked down into the ravine for Astra. The horse was nowhere in sight. Standing up, she then scrambled down the slope, almost slipping to the ravine floor. No sign of the horse.

Now she was truly alone. No company, not even of the four-legged variety, and no means of getting out of the ravine, even if she decided to. Stuck.

Don’t panic!

She panicked. She began to walk back and forth, five steps one way, turn, five steps the other. Walking helped her to think. She forgot that she was wasting precious energy, drying herself out a little more with every step, every turn. Think. Up till now she had been able to tell herself that everything would be all right. That it was only a matter of time before
someone found her. Doubts crept in, multiplied, tripled. What if Natalie had been found unconscious and couldn’t tell them where she was? They’d have no idea of where to look. In her mind’s eye she remembered the plains, the never-ending stretch of land that went in all directions. How could anyone find a single person without a clue or two? It would be impossible.