The Untold (17 page)

T
he next day Jessie was up before the rest of them, making a fire and tea. The air was damp that morning and the wood was slow to light and the camp looked like it was deposited not on a mountain but on a cloud. She sat cross-legged on the ground, feeding the fire with kindling and blowing on it to bring it to life.

Slowly the rest of them emerged from their caves. One by one they sauntered through the fog, their collars up and their shirttails out, their hair twisting in cowlicks around their foreheads and their crowns. Never in all of her life had Jessie seen more elegant or perfect creatures. They moved in towards the fire, quiet with the sleep that still hung about them. She ladled sweet tea into tin mugs and she took pleasure in watching them roll their faces over the steam.

The boy ran off and brought back a bag of oranges. He handed one to each of them and they all became animated, biting off the skin with their teeth and throwing the skin into the fire and laughing as the juice dripped down their chins. The air carried the companionable smells of tea and oranges and soon it was all mixed with the smell of oats cooking.

Jessie noticed Joe was drawing shapes and lines on the ground with a twig and she asked him,
Are you planning something?

And one of them, Zef, who was missing a front tooth, added,
Is it almost time?

In a week or so the moon will be new
, said Joe.
Yes. It will soon be time to head back down to Phantom Ridge and bring in the cattle.

There's still a week's work in the ropes and preparing,
said Bill.
And we'll need everybody's hands if we are to get down there by the new moon as Joe plans.

As they ate breakfast Joe explained the heist to Jessie.

Miss, we've been planning this six months and our thinking is that we will do but one big haul in a year and it will be enough for us to live well and buy all the supplies we need and it will give a healthy cut to all of us. There are five of us who can drive it, not including the boy, and now with you there are six and by our count there is almost a hundred head of cattle to move in the night. Soon the sky will be at its darkest and that is the best time for vanishing things, you know. The rope you will see will be like one giant lasso, only we will not throw it like that. We will herd the cattle together and we will keep the rope low around them and then we will move them. We will all have a hand in it. And of course there is risk, there always is, of stampede, but watch and see if the dark moon doesn't dull those beasts completely.

As Joe spoke the plan and continued to make marks on the ground, Jessie's heart raced inside her. It was so long since she had been droving. Fitz had put an end to it when he discovered she was pregnant when she was too large to hide it from him. Under Fitz's rule, droving and duffing were her only experience of freedom, however fleeting.

And when you move them, how will you get them to sale?
she asked.

Wait till you see it, miss
, said Joe.
Inside these mountains is a miracle. There's a whole system of caves and tunnels that runs from the north side to the south, and over time we have tracked and mapped our way through them and out to the other side. We'll have to get them to the sale yards in under two days, before the owner finds his cattle gone and before he can send warning. But in that time we can get them there if we
move them day and night. We will stop only to rebrand them. Zef here has a calligrapher's hand and he has drawn us up a certificate, a note from the owner if you like, though it looks like a letter from the prime minister himself. “I hereby declare this is my cattle and I give these drovers full license to sell them on my behalf.” And if you could tuck your hair up, miss, we have a few smothers that you can wear. If you don't mind me saying, you are handsome-like and you could pass easily for a gentleman. And between us we could represent the owner well.

I
T TOOK ALL OF TH
EM
to spread out the ropes and when they were done the ropes looked like pale vines stretching through the camp. There were seven ropes in all and six joins that needed to be woven together. The gang took their places on the ground and set about weaving; Jessie watched on as the boy unplaited the two ends of rope and then, with practiced hands, began to weave them together. She watched intently the pattern of his interlacing fingers and then she asked him to slow down so she could learn the pattern herself, to relieve him. The boy then demonstrated the sequence by counting. It was elaborate to her eyes.

Why don't you tie them together?
she asked, as she could begin to gauge just how long it would take to join them all.

A knot just wears down the rope, miss,
said the boy.
And a weave is much stronger than a knot, you know—and after you and Joe and the others bring in the cattle we have other plans for this rope, miss, and it should remain a surprise to you but you will soon see that there should be no knots in it at all.

Jessie watched the boy and the others and none of them seemed
to fatigue of their work. She stretched out in the sun next to the boy and said,
Tell me when you're tired.

And the boy said,
I will do, miss.

She relaxed completely then in the uncommon peace she felt in their company.

By the end of the second day the six joins were made and there was one complete rope and they measured it in strides and made sure it met the dimensions they had measured first by horse length on their reconnaissance.

Joe explained to Jessie that although they had first conceived the rope working as a giant lasso their aim was not to close the rope around the cattle but more use it as a moving fence, taut, pushing the cattle from behind.

They practiced with the rope, looping sections of it over their arms and their shoulders and then spreading it out in one orchestrated movement around the campsite. The boy stood in the middle of their circle and signaled to them the proper timing of the rope's release. Aside from a few rope burns on their arms they deemed it a success.

The moon was soon dark and Jessie, Joe, Bill and the rest of the gang prepared to set off, leaving the boy and his dog behind. The boy's job was to guard the camp, though Jessie heard Joe tell him that if anyone approached the site he was to hide himself and his dog.
Take yourself to the cave on the other side of the waterhole,
he said,
and if we come back and you're not here, we'll know where to find you.

They all took turns hugging the boy or roughing his hair before they mounted their horses and he walked them out to the ridgeline. His dog at his side, he waved them off as they stepped their horses down one by one. They moved cautiously along the narrow track; later, when the track allowed it, they rode side by
side. There was an easy feeling among them and as they rode they practiced birdcalls and sometimes the birds seemed to call right back, as if they were all a part of some earthly communion whose only subject was beauty and gratitude.

Sometimes the slope was too steep to ride and they led their horses and walked them close along crumbling tracks. Soon they entered caves and tunnels so large they dwarfed their party of six plus the six horses.

After two days of riding, they reached the edge of the northern range. At Joe's instruction, they halted within a cave and painted the hooves of their horses white. They could not risk lighting fires so they passed the time eating their food raw and whispering their plan among them until it was dark.

When Joe said it was time, they gathered a part of the rope each and looped it around their arms and their shoulders and then they mounted their horses and Joe led them out. It was dark but for a sliver of moon and they could hardly see or be seen but Joe said,
Just keep your eyes on the horse's hooves in front of you.
And then when the paddocks opened up they formed a line and each of them tugged on the rope both ways to signal they were still connected to one another.

They heard the cattle first and proceeded towards the sound, keeping pace with one another, measuring their distance by the hooves that appeared as luminous streaks near the ground in front of them. When they were close to the herd, they unwound the rope from their arms and rode out in a curve, making no sound or signal other than what the tension of the rope revealed.

Riding in a circle, they drew the rope out around the cattle and moved them back towards the direction of the cave. The cattle moved slowly and there was no protest in them.

The gang moved the herd across the field and each cow was barely distinguishable, no more than bleached patches of night floating in some strange order.

It took them half the night to reach the cave. When they arrived at the mouth of it, they closed the rope in and funneled the cattle inside. Then it was Jessie and Bill's job to drove them up into the narrower passages, while the other four went back, in haste, to remove any evidence around the perimeter of the cave, which amounted to filling bags with dung that they scooped up with pieces of bark they carried with them.

When they reconvened they all herded the cattle through the tunnels and then cave to cave until they arrived at what they called Branding Point. It was a cave split at the top with a natural chimney that would let smoke out and it was far enough away from Phantom Ridge to remain unseen by anyone in the morning patrol of the cattle.

They had hidden lanterns and branding irons on previous missions and even experimented with fire beneath the split. They used the same pit to light a fire, and set the branding irons against the coals until they glowed purple. Then they took turns to hold and brand the cattle. Each creature shuffled its bulk and bellowed as they pressed the iron into its hide. But the cave was well chosen, a cave within a cave, and all sounds there were contained within the chambers of the rock.

When the cattle were all rebranded, they moved on. There were five lanterns among the gang and they lit them all, although it was not the dark that bothered them, more the asphyxiating smell of dung as the cows released more readily into the narrow passages of the cave.

By the next morning they had reached the southern side. They hid the rope and their lanterns within the cave and herded the cattle into the daylight, moving them steadily towards the sale yards. Joe and Jessie paused to tidy themselves. Bill had made mustaches for them by snipping pieces of their hair, weaving them onto small scraps of fabric and now pasting these onto their top lips with a mix of flour and water. Joe and Jessie looked at each other and laughed at what a handsome pair they made.

When they arrived at the sale yards, Joe and Jessie presented the clerk with the forged letter. The hand was elaborate and the paper was watermarked and the clerk had no reason to question it. A stockman inspected the cattle and then a sale in cash was made.

The gang breezed through the township as easily as any band of drovers and there was no evidence of what they had done, aside from the money in their pockets and the lingering smell of dung they carried in their nostrils.

They had vanished a hundred head of cattle.

They did not waste their time with town things but found a store and bought dried biscuits and sweet milk and new boots and shirts and a pulley, and in no time they were on course again, riding back in the direction from which they had come.

W
hen they reached the opening to the cave they collected the rope and lanterns but did not continue farther in. They all needed air and country. It would take them a few more days but they were happy not to move into the tunnels until they were halfway up the mountain.

That night, they camped out in the open. In the morning, when Jessie woke, she could see horses grazing in the distance. They looked as though they were covered in frost, ghostly shapes all of them. She had an impulse to go after them, but she held herself back and just watched. One of the horses stirred and turned its long head in her direction as if it had suddenly become aware of her. Then it surged out and all of them disappeared into the denser mountain.

Jessie lay back, heard the thrumming of their hooves echoing down. She thought of Jack Brown. It came with a heavy feeling.

T
HERE WAS A WHOLE Y
EAR
between the first time they were together and the second. And after the first time, she cold-shouldered him. They continued to ride together and drove, but she kept a great physical distance from him at all times. She believed that both their lives would be in danger if Fitz found out what had happened.

Over the years, she had done her best to ward off Fitz's advances. But sometimes she could not. He called it her
wifely duty.
Some nights she was saved because he was too drunk to scratch
himself and for half the month she told him she was bleeding, which repulsed him so much he avoided her for another week again. So that left a week or a few days a month to evade him as best she could. She had learned from the women in prison how to synch her cycle with the moon and for years of managing this and Fitz she had never fallen pregnant.

She could think of no worse thing.

But then one morning she woke and Fitz was already on top of her. She knew it would be more punishing to resist him.

Four weeks later she suspected she was pregnant. Five weeks later she was certain.

It consumed her but she told no one. She even copped a beating from Fitz but still she kept it from him.

Six weeks later, she was droving with Jack Brown.

He was asleep in his swag and she went to him.

Kissed his neck.

She felt herself unfreezing.

He woke and he did not stop her.

In the morning he said,
What took you so long?

And she did not check herself when she said,
Jack Brown, I do not want to die by Fitz's hand.

They were gentle with each other all day and then their days of riding passed in a haze. Two months later, on another ride she told him,
Jack Brown, I am pregnant.

Is it mine
, he asked,
or is it Fitz's?

I believe it's yours
, she said.

With all her heart she wished me to be Jack Brown's child. But all of her wishing could not make it true. She had deceived him.