|
The jangle of his phone woke Sergeant Dave Cowan from a deep sleep. The bedside clock-radio showed 2.15am.
Artesian Creek had all of 150 permanent residents, and the district maybe another 75.
The phone kept ringing as he got out of bed and clicked the light on. Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!
It stopped ringing as he was about to pick it up. Bloody hell!
Just as he got back into bed it rang again, and this time he caught it in time. “Artesian Creek Police, Sergeant Cowan speaking.”
“Dave, it’s Judy Archer.” The voice sounded strained.
“Don’t tell me, let me guess. You ignored my instruction not to drive in your condition and you’ve pranged the wagon.”
“I got home OK, but Allan’s missing.”
“What do you mean missing? Since you got home?”
“No, Shawn came over from the quarters when I got home to tell me Allan hadn’t come home from mustering Castle Paddock today. Shawn hasn’t seen him since midmorning, and went looking for him when he wasn’t home by dark.”
“Was he flying the chopper?”
“No. They were shifting cows and calves that are too weak to handle with the chopper. The dam and waterholes are drying up and they were shifting them to another paddock and were both on horseback.”
“Has Allan been OK lately? Depressed about the drought? Anything like that?”
“You think he’s killed himself?” Her voice went up a notch.
“No, I didn’t say that or even infer it, but sensibly there’s nothing much we can do until morning. If he turns up before then you be sure to ring me. I’ll organise a search party to come out. Do you know any trackers?”
“Darcy Onetime is working next-door on Bore Creek. I’ll see if he can come, and Shawn is a pretty good tracker too.”
Yeah, I’ll bet he is.
“OK stay calm, Judy, get them organised and I’ll be out there by say eight with whoever I can rustle up. We’ll find him OK, I’m sure of it.”
“Thanks, Dave, I’ll see what I can do.”
He hung up, concerned about Allan Archer. Judy had arrived at the roadhouse before dark the previous evening for the Bush Girls’ Night Out that she had organised. She had stayed until stumps and had been drunk and amorous by then. He had specifically told her to find a bed in town and not to drive.
And anyway, what’s she doing going off partying when there’s a drought on at home and he probably needs her there?
He couldn’t help wondering what the state of their marriage was and whether there was conflict at home.
Also, Shawn Hardin, their ringer and only employee, was one to watch. At their first meeting Dave had nicknamed him Shawn Hard’un because he had that hard-man look about him, big rough hands and challenging eyes.
A 40-something-year-old woman with a flirty nature and a 30- something-year-old roo-shooter and knockabout ringer with a long-distance gaze could be the powder keg a shaky marriage couldn’t afford.
Shawn Hardin at 31 was younger than he looked, but then his life had started early, on Cape York, rough cattle country with slippery neighbours and old feuds over cattle, horses, women or whatever men fought over in that country.
The scar across his left cheek was from a bullet when he was 13, riding with his dad, evening the score. An eye for an eye had been his father’s life plan. It hadn’t worked too well for him, he was long dead.
From there Shawn had moved to the Top End, Arnhem Land, one jump ahead of the law, catching buffalo bulls for a living, the sort of work that turns young men old, crippled or dead pretty quickly.
In Darwin on a bender he’d hurt some people and run foul of the constabulary. He’d moved on, changed States again to the Kimberley and thrown bulls for a living instead of buffalo, until one had hooked him behind the knee and severed some tendons.
At just 28 he had considered himself an old man and opted for the easy life, pulling pigs down with dogs for the freezer boxes, shooting roos for the same trade, and working the open desert country as a ringer.
Then he had lobbed on Castle Rock Station at the end of the Wet, after a blow-out in Boulia. It had been like a retirement home. He could shoot roos and pigs for the box in his spare time and was paid cash-in-hand wages in between for stockwork; the nearest thing to a sinecure he’d come across yet.
He wasn’t looking forward to the morning. She would call the cop. Cowan would jump to conclusions because that’s what coppers did when they’d decided the result in advance. Cowan saw him as a gypsy. He didn’t like gypsies in his town, or in his district. He liked it nice and neat and orderly and under control his way.
After Judy had come home drunk and he’d reported what he knew, he headed back to the quarters before she could work out a way to get him to comfort her.
He woke fast. She didn’t knock, she just came into his room and before she could try anything in the dark he switched the light on. That took her by surprise.
“Oh, you gave me a fright,” she said, but her eyes didn’t look frightened. They ate his bare chest instead … time to nip it in the bud.
“What’s up, Jude?”
“The sergeant will be out about eight with a search party. Darcy Onetime is coming over to track and you’ll be able to help him.”
“What did you tell Allan?”
“What do you mean?”
“You told him some story about us, didn’t you?”
“That you forced yourself on me and had your way with me?”
“That weren’t what happened, an’ you know it!”
She smiled enigmatically. “I imagine you’re worried about what they’ll find, aren’t you, Shawn?”
“What did you tell Cowan?”
“Just what you told me. Why? What did you think I’d tell him?”
“OK, I’ll see you in the mornin’, see what develops.”
“What really happened yesterday, Shawn?”
“We split up. I put 300 cows an’ calves through into Desert Paddock an’ took ’em to water. Then I went back to see if I could I give him a hand. Couldn’t find him, waited at the gate until dark an’ then came home an’ got me Toyota an’ went lookin’, just like I told you.”
“Were you anywhere near Castle Rock?”
“No, there’s been nothin’ there since the native well pumped out, ain’t been water there for the best part of a year now.”
“Would he have been likely to have gone there, Shawn?”
“Don’t see why he would of. I thought he was headin’ for Pigeon Hole first up. I went to the dam where most of the cattle was waterin’.”
“You’re not hiding something, are you?”
“I ain’t, are you?”
“Like what?”
“Like I know you an’ him ain’t been gettin’ on too good, not that it’s any of my concern.”
“Just what are you inferring?”
“Chopper weren’t in the same place it usually is when I got my Toyota outta the shed last night.”
“So Allan moved it. How do I know?”
“Does Cowan know you can fly the chopper, Jude?”
“I haven’t flown for ages. I don’t know whether he knows or not.”
“Allan’s saddle is in the shed on his rack.”
“How did you know that?”
“First place I looked when I unsaddled.”
“Where’s his horse then?”
“Didn’t go lookin’ last night, but if his saddle’s here maybe his horse is too.”
“Are you suggesting he came home and didn’t go to Pigeon Hole at all?”
“Couldn’t see tracks last night. Could of, yeah.”
“Shawn, did you and he fight yesterday?”
“Don’t go puttin’ somethin’ there that ain’t, Jude. Go home to bed an’ we’ll find him tomorrow.”
“I’m upset. Can I get in your bed?”
“No. Go home.”
Shawn had the horses in the yard before breakfast. The chestnut gelding Allan had ridden the previous day was among them, drafted off to show Cowan.
By eight o’clock a Toyota and a truck had arrived from Bore Creek, with five men, including Darcy and their horses. Then the Bore Creek R22 landed and Tom Macy, the owner, alighted.
A small convoy of vehicles from Artesian Creek arrived, mostly utes with motorbikes in the back, and Cowan in his Toyota troopie, along with two stock-squad police towing a horse float.
Judy brought Dave Cowan up to date regarding Allan’s horse and saddle, and they all trooped over to the horse yard to look.
“Are you sure this is the horse Allan was riding yesterday, Judy?” Dave asked.
“Yeah, it is,” Shawn answered.
“I didn’t ask you, feller! Judy?”
“I’m not sure, Dave. I didn’t see them leave.”
“All right, let’s get out there and look for him,” Dave said. “You can come with me if you like, Judy.”
Shawn stepped up facing Cowan. “Now, before we get out there with all this crew, let’s get some plan worked out, so that we’re not coverin’ tracks that we could need later.”
“You drove out there last night, Hardin. Seems to me you’ve already made sure there’ll be no tracks to find.”
They locked eyes for a long moment, and Dave could see Shawn was itching to punch him. “If you’ve got something you want to say, you’d better get it out in the open straight up, feller,” Dave pushed him, hoping he would take a swing.
“I’ll stop here then, Cowan, seein’ you already decided you know everythin’. I wouldn’t want to be tamperin’ with nothin’, like tracks for instance. But if you want my advice, I suggest you put Darcy Onetime in charge if you really wanna find Allan.”
“I didn’t ask for your advice, Hardin. I’ve run searches before.”
“How’d you go? Find ’em?”
“If you’re not coming with us, you’d better give me the keys of your vehicle, so I know you’ll still be here when we get back.”
Nobody spoke as the two men faced off. Then Shawn shrugged and walked to the shed. When he returned he tossed the keys to Dave. “An’ when you do get back I’ll be wantin’ an apology outta you, Cowan!”
Dave laughed. “You’ll get whatever you deserve, feller.”
Shawn left the group and went to the horse yard, where he unsaddled and let the horses out of the yard. He had seen the self-satisfied look on Judy’s face and it had riled him more than Cowan’s bravado.
You’ll keep, Cowan, but when this is over I’m out of here. You’re just trouble, Judy Archer, and there’s nothing left here for me.
“Hey!” Dave called and beckoned him.
He gritted his teeth and walked back. “Yeah?”
“Where did you and Allan split up yesterday?”
“Darcy’ll tell you. You ain’t gonna believe anythin’ I say anyhow.”
He stared at Dave as he rolled a racehorse cigarette and fired it. Their enmity was palpable.
Dave broke eye contact first. “All right, we’ve wasted enough time. Let’s get going. You ride in the lead, Darcy. We’ll all follow.”
Shawn watched them leave and then he went back to the shed. From the veterinary cupboard he took a pair of latex gloves and went to the helicopter. He knew Allan kept the chopper logbook in the pocket on the back of the seat.
He took it out and noted the machine hours at the end of the last usage. Then he compared the recording with the hour meter on the dash. There were three hours more on the clock than in the book. Three hours was quite some distance, like maybe to Winton and back.
Allan always filled out the book while he idled the machine down. He hadn’t been the last pilot. There would be fingerprints on the controls to show who the pilot had been.
Shawn was sitting on the veranda of the quarters plaiting a kangaroo-hide whip when the cavalcade straggled in from the search late in the day. The police troopie stopped at the house and let Judy out and then came on over to where he was.
Dave leant out the window. “You’re still here.”
Shawn didn’t bother answering.
“Where is he, Hardin? What have you done with his body?”
“Didn’t know he was a body, Sarge. You find blood or somethin’?”
“You’re a smartarse, feller, but I’ll nail you for this.”
“You finished lookin’ in Castle Paddock?”
“Why?”
“Because there’s less than a week’s worth of water in a couple of holes. I gotta shift them cattle before they perish, so if you’ve finished in there I’ll go out an’ shift the rest tomorrow.”
“You don’t think we’ll find him, do you?”
“Me an’ old mate from next- door probably could, but no, I don’t reckon you’ll find him, because you dunno the first thing about it.”
“We’re spreading the search on to the rest of the place tomorrow. You can play station hand.”
“There’s three hours on the hour meter in the chopper that Allan never flew. Whoever did will of left prints on the controls, could be blood in it too maybe, if you ain’t too tired to follow it up.”
“You stick to chasing cattle and leave me to do the police work, sonny.”
He drove back to the house then, and a few minutes later Tom Macey walked over. “I’m sorry you couldn’t come with us today, Shawn.”
“Yeah, well.”
“Darcy reckons Allan waited where you spilt up, probably until you were out of sight and then he rode home here. I would have liked to hear what your take on it was.”
“I had that feelin’, yeah, but it just don’t make sense to me, Tom.”
“He say anything to you about the bank pushing him for payment?”
“No, he don’t talk about that sorta stuff with me, but it don’t surprise me. I reckon the same would apply to most cockies around here.”
Tom gave a grim smile. “Including this one, Shawn. We’re not going to find him with this galah in charge, you know. Where will that leave you?”
“I’ve moved on before, guess I’m used to it.”
“When we give up searching, what say we leave it a few days and then I send Darcy over and you and he see what you can come up with between you? If he’s dead, the least he deserves is a proper burial. He’s always been a champion neighbour.”
“Won’t hurt.”
A week after the search was abandoned Dave rang Judy and asked her to come in to the police station as soon as possible. She arrived and went in.
“I’ve got a couple of questions, Judy.”
“Yes?”
“I’ve discovered you’ve already put in a claim for Allan’s life insurance. Don’t you think that’s jumping the gun? It’s not a good look, and in this case without proof of death the insurance company won’t even look at it until after a coroner comes up with a finding of death.”
“How did you find that out?”
“Judy, Judy, I’m a cop. I don’t want to suspect you of anything, but this doesn’t help.”
“I had to do something. The bank is breathing down my neck now Allan’s disappeared. I’ve got two months to settle the mortgage.”
“How much is that?”
“Eight hundred grand.”
“I’d suggest you get a solicitor on to negotiating something with them. It wouldn’t hurt to have one available anyway.”
“You mean I’m a suspect?”
“Let’s just say your name keeps coming up in my mind.”
I’d rather it was coming up for another reason. I’ll have to see what I can do about that.
“That’s understandable, but until you put the handcuffs on me let’s be friends?”
“Of course.”
She consulted her watch. “It’s your knockoff time, Dave, I’ll shout you a beer.”
Shawn and Darcy rode out to Castle Paddock and just rode around checking cattle tracks, looking for ones Shawn had missed rather than looking for Allan Archer. Darcy had shown Shawn the evidence and there was no point in further tracking along that path.
“Ay Shawnie, them helicopters don’t leave no tracks.”
“Yeah, I been thinkin’ the same thing. You got an idea?”
“You know, them old dreamtime fellers they knew this country better’n what we do.”
“Yeah?”w
He pointed towards the single most dominant landmark for miles around. “That feller Castle Rock, old fellers called him water mountain, you know?”
“Because of the native well on top?”
“You ever been up him, Shawnie?”
“No, never had the time, except once I flew up there in the chopper with Allan to service the mill. The way up is washed away anyhow. You’d need to be one of them mountain climbers to get up there any other way.”
“Native well ain’t the only water. We might take a look, ay?”
They rode to the foot of the mountain and drew rein at the sheer cliffs. Darcy dismounted and knee-hobbled his horse. Shawn followed suit, doubtfully.
“OK, what now, Darcy?”
“Pretty close now I reckon if I ain’t forgot.”
He led the way among the huge slabs of rockfall that surrounded the mesa. Then he got down on hands and knees and disappeared into a cleft in the wall.
Once inside it was distinctly cooler and Shawn fancied he could smell wet soil. A slight draught was blowing in their faces.
Five minutes later they were able to stand up in a cavern. It was dark and bats flapped overhead. A strong animal smell pervaded the space and something scurried past them. A marsupial hopped loudly, giving the alarm.
“Well we know he ain’t here or them roos an’ things wouldn’t be campin’ in here,” Shawn ventured.
“Head for that bit of light you can see, but there’s probably water between here an’ there, so take it easy.”
They cautiously moved blindly towards the glimmer of light that entered the cavern from above. Darcy’s boots splashed in water and he put his arm out to stop Shawn. “Better get down on hands an’ knees now to follow the edge around, could be deep,” he suggested.
Once they passed the waterhole the passage slanted upwards steeply in places and branched into other small caves. Finally they could see naked sky above as they came to a chamber with another smaller rock hole. There were old signs of habitation and a rusty old Winchester rifle leant against the wall, indicating habitation by whites and Aborigines over time. It wasn’t far to the plateau, but there was no sign Allan had been there.
Almost a year had passed and in that time the coroner had found Allan to be deceased. Judy had been paid his life insurance sum, $1,000,000, which had more than settled the debt with the bank. Shawn still ran Castle Rock, while Judy and Dave Cowan conducted an affair. They announced their engagement at a big party at the roadhouse.
It seemed to Shawn that they acted in indecent haste to tie the knot. He reckoned Cowan had his eye on Castle Rock Station and Judy just couldn’t help herself.
Three weeks after the engagement party they flew from Winton to the Gold Coast to marry and honeymoon.
“Don’t expect us back for at least two months, Shawn,” Judy said as they parted.
He stayed on in spite of what he’d intended and quite enjoyed having the place to himself as the days turned to weeks and time passed.
He arrived back from a night in town at daylight on a Sunday and saw Judy’s wagon parked at the house as he went past to the shed. He was surprised they were back so soon, but he was even more surprised when he parked in the shed and got out.
Cowan’s and Judy’s bodies lay in front of the station truck in a huge pool of blood, which was dried around the edges already. An old rusty Winchester rifle leant against the truck bull-bar.
A search revealed one tarnished old .30/30 case nearby, which he didn’t touch. The second case would still be in the chamber.
Well aren’t I lucky, I’ve got witnesses that I only left town an hour ago. I’d better ring the new copper and get him out here before too long and get him to bring the doctor so he can verify time of death.
Two weeks later he received an official-looking letter, which he had to read a number of times before he could believe what he saw. Castle Rock Station had been signed over to him unencumbered. But the date of the transfer was two days after Allan Archer had disappeared, and it was signed by him at Brisbane.
That’s how Shawn Hardin went from being a no-hoper to a cattleman, or that’s what he reckons anyhow.
|
