Crow Country (15 page)

T
he sapling had grown and spread into the old grey mallee gum in her own backyard.

Disbelieving, Sadie traced the S that she had carved into its trunk on that night so long ago, but only hours before. The scar was thickened and blurred, as high as her waist. She was sure she hadn't seen it there before.

When she'd carved her mark, the sapling was in the middle of the bush. In the years since, the houses had crept out from the centre of Boort and cleared the bush away. But the tree had survived.

The sky was clouding over as Sadie fetched Ellie's trowel from the shed. She didn't think she'd buried it very far down.

The crow watched her, its head tilted. When she poked the trowel into the earth, it hopped nearer, almost jabbing its beak into the hole. ‘Look out,' said Sadie. ‘Give me some room.'

The crow hopped back. ‘
Wah
,' it remarked.

Digging was harder work than Sadie had expected. The ground was dry and compacted; dirt crumbled into the hole she made. She kept striking roots and stones. As the hole grew larger with no sign of the buried tin she began to wonder if it was the wrong tree after all, or if someone else had found the tin before her. Her hair tumbled into her eyes and she pushed it back impatiently, leaving smudges of dirt across her face.

She wondered if Lachie was all right. She won- dered if Craig and Amanda would be very angry with Walter. She wondered when Ellie would come home.

‘You seek what was stolen,' said the crow beside her.

‘I think it's here,' said Sadie. ‘I think I can find it.'

The crow's mad eye regarded her with glittering excitement; it shifted restlessly from foot to foot. ‘What was stolen must be restored.'

Sadie sat back on her heels. ‘Everything that was stolen can't be given back,' she said. ‘The land, the stories. The lives that were ended.'

‘
Waah!
Life does not end. Life returns to Crow, to the ancestors. There is no ending.'

Sadie turned back to her digging. The sun was going down, the air was chilly. She thrust the trowel into the ground and it jarred against something hard. Sadie poked and scraped. Was it another rock? Her heart beat fast when she saw a metallic gleam at the bottom of the hole.

‘
Wah! Wah!'
The crow flapped its wings and jigged up and down as Sadie tugged the tin from the earth where it had been buried so long. ‘It is found!'

Sadie set the tin on the ground and stared at it. In the other Sadie's time, it had been fresh and new, with smart black paint and gilt edging, the label with its blue crane bright and glowing. Now the tin was rusty, battered, filthy. But it had guarded Jimmy Raven's secret possessions safely. Sadie remembered Auntie Lily's warning; she wouldn't open it.

‘Now I have to give it to Auntie Lily,' Sadie said. ‘That's right, isn't it?'

‘To the elders, to the guardians.
Wah!
' The crow flapped its wings. Its eyes shone like black diamonds.

Sadie wrapped her palms around the tin. It was heavy; she remembered that unnatural heaviness from the other Sadie's time, as if the whole weight of a family's grief was enclosed within it.

‘I wish I knew where Jimmy's body was buried,' she said. ‘I wish I could tell Auntie Lily where he is.'

The crow's head cocked to one side. ‘The bones of the clever man lie in Crow's country. We will find them. But first you must take the power to the elders.'

Sadie scrambled to her feet, clutching the tin with both hands. ‘Auntie Lily, right – Oh!' She realised she couldn't remember the way to Auntie Lily and Vonn's house. She slumped against the tree, feeling the rough scratch of the bark at her back, fighting tears. She was tired and cold, her whole body ached with weariness. ‘I don't know where to go,' she said dully.

‘
Wah!
' cawed the crow, and spread its wings as it laughed at her. ‘I will show you.'

The crow hopped from roof to roof, from tree to tree, leading her on through the town, past the RSL hall, the bowling club and the service station, out along the Boort–Yando road. Sadie trudged numbly through the dusk, her face nipped by the frosty air, her hands thrust into her pockets. The cold metal of the too-heavy tin burned through the fabric of her jacket and bit against her thigh.

‘
Wah!
' the crow encouraged her. ‘Come! Come!'

And it seemed to Sadie that the other birds were gathering by the roadside, a trio of magpies, a pair of galahs, a chattering flock of tiny green parrots, all watching as she passed. The road stretched before her.

‘Waah!
' called the crow. ‘Here!'

The crow led Sadie around to the backyard of Auntie Vonn's house. A washing-line draped with sheets was strung between her and the back door. Lights glowed in the windows.

‘She is there,' said the crow. ‘The one you call Auntie Lily. Crow knows her by another name. Give her what you've found.' It hopped from foot to foot. ‘Finish your story.'

Sadie hesitated. ‘Will I speak to you again?' she asked shyly.

The crow opened its beak wide and laughed its cawing laugh. ‘
Wa-wa-waaah!
You may speak to us every day if you wish it. Isn't this Crow's country?'

Still laughing, it spread its wings and leaped into the air, a black shadow circling overhead. There was a rush of wind against Sadie's face as its wings beat the air. And then it was gone.

Sadie stood in the shadows by the back step for a few moments, listening to the laughter and music coming from the kitchen. She knocked on the door. ‘Hello?' But no one heard her.

She pushed at the door, and it creaked open. ‘Hello?' she called again, advancing into the house. She clutched the tin in her pocket between both her hands, as if it might give her courage.

A woman came rushing round the corner and almost knocked Sadie off her feet. ‘Who's this?' she exclaimed. ‘You nearly gave me a heart attack!'

The woman propelled Sadie into the light, and Sadie saw that it was Vonn. Recognition dawned in Vonn's face. ‘You came with David and Walter, didn't you?' She sent a puzzled glance over Sadie's shoulder, out into the night. ‘They here too?'

Sadie shook her head. ‘I've come to see Auntie Lily,' she whispered. ‘I've brought her something. It's important.'

Vonn's broad face softened. ‘Auntie Lily's not well, darling. You give me whatever it is; I'll pass it on, eh?'

Sadie shook her head and gripped the tin tightly. It burned her fingers. ‘I have to give it to Auntie Lily. No one else.'

Vonn looked her up and down, taking in the smears of dirt on Sadie's face, the splashes of blood on her clothes, the yellow mud that clung to her shoes.

‘Please!' begged Sadie. ‘Auntie told me to come.'

Vonn seemed to make up her mind. ‘You come in here.' She thrust Sadie into the crowded kitchen. Startled faces turned to them. ‘Jarred, get off that chair, let Sadie sit down. Look at her, she's that tired out, she can hardly stand up. You want a cup of tea, darling? Chrissie, you make her a cup of tea, or a Milo, eh? You sit down, Sadie. I'll go and see if Auntie's awake.'

Sadie sank into a chair and stared at her hands. She hadn't realised how tired she was until Vonn said it, but now exhaustion threatened to crash over her like an avalanche. Someone pushed a mug of steaming Milo in front of her and she curled her hands around it. ‘Thanks,' she managed to whisper. Gradually the conversation picked up again, and soon it was swirling over and around her as if she wasn't there. She was grateful; she wished she could disappear, melt into nothing, the way the crow had dissolved into the night . . .

Vonn returned. ‘Auntie wants to see you.' She ushered Sadie down the hall, and Sadie folded her hands around the tin and hugged it to her as she stepped into Auntie's room.

A bedside lamp in a ruffled shade cast a pink pool of light over the bed. Auntie was propped on pillows, a red knitted cardigan pulled around her shoulders. She patted the bed for Sadie to come nearer.

‘You got something for me?'

Sadie edged closer to the bed. She pulled out the battered cigarette tin – heavy, so much heavier than it should be – and held it out. ‘I found it. His special things, the secret things. They're in there.'

‘You looked?' Auntie's voice was sharp.

Sadie shook her head. ‘I just know.' She set the tin down on the flowery bedspread.

Auntie's wrinkled hand reached out to curve around it. ‘Good girl.' She let out a deep sigh. ‘Go on, you go. I look after this now.'

‘Thanks,' said Sadie awkwardly, and shuffled back- wards out of the room.

Vonn was waiting in the hallway. ‘All done?'

Sadie nodded. She was so tired suddenly that she couldn't speak.

‘You want to go home now?' suggested Vonn. ‘Want me to ring someone, your mum, maybe? Or David?'

Sadie slumped against the wall as she recited Ellie's mobile number. She was dimly aware of Vonn speaking, making reassuring noises into the phone. She slid down the wall and leaned her head against a bookcase. As if in a dream, she saw Vonn bend down beside her and explain that her mum and David were on their way. ‘From the hospital, yeah? That sound right? They'll be here soon.'

Sadie nodded, laboriously, because her head had grown so heavy, as heavy as the cigarette tin . . . She jolted awake. The tin, she had to deliver it to Auntie!

Then she remembered that she'd already done it. She'd done what the crows had wanted; it was all over. And then holding her head up was really too hard, and keeping her eyelids open was impossible.

Even when David and Ellie swooped into the house, even when David scooped her up and carried her to the car, she didn't wake. She was dreaming of a flight beneath the stars; she dreamed it all the way home.

She was leaning forward along the neck of a giant crow, her hands buried in its feathers. The freezing wind stung her face and hands. Far below, the land spread out beneath them, dots of light twinkled against the darkened earth, like a reflection of the star-sprinkled canopy of the sky above.

The steady
whoosh
of the crow's wings was the only sound as the spirit-bird flew across the darkness, a needle through the night. Silver clouds shredded to reveal the shining face of the full moon.

And Sadie knew that she was gazing down at ancient campfires, lit by the people of Crow and Eaglehawk, night after night, generation after generation, millennium upon millennium; that the time of electric lights was only a blink in the long dream of this land's story. The secret magic of this country lay hidden, buried under buildings and blood; but it had never gone away, and it would never disappear. It lay waiting, lost in its own endless dream.

‘Tell Waa!' Sadie shouted. ‘Tell him his stories aren't forgotten! His people remember; his people are still here! You have to tell him! It's important!'

‘
Waah!
Crow knows this. Crow says—' But the next words were stolen by the wind, and all Sadie heard was the crow's cawing laughter.

Ellie tucked Sadie into bed without undressing her, dropped a kiss on her forehead and smoothed her hair. Something tangled in Ellie's fingers. Puzzled, she held it up to the light.

It was a black feather.

Ellie laid it on the bedside table and tiptoed from the room.

S
adie and Walter walked across the dry lake bed.

‘You think we'll be able to find it?' said Walter.

It was the first time either of them had spoken since they'd left the house.

‘The crows will show us,' said Sadie. ‘They prom-
ised.'

‘I dunno,' said Walter. ‘I don't reckon the crows are going to speak no more.'

Sadie's heart skipped. ‘How come?'

‘It just feels like that's all over. Since you found Jimmy's tin and gave it to Auntie. Since we went and saw Lachie in hospital and sorta made friends again. I dunno.'

‘But it's not finished. Auntie Lily said we had to mark his grave, and she said we should take him back to his own country.'

‘We don't know where Jimmy's country is.'

Sadie searched her memory. ‘Down south, he said. By the sea.'

Walter raised his eyebrows. ‘Lots of sea out there.'

‘Well, we'll have to worry about that later. Maybe the crows will tell us where he came from.'

‘Gotta find his grave first,' said Walter. ‘Maybe that's the end.'

Sadie didn't answer. She had a feeling that Crow's stories were sunk so deep in the bones of this country that they would never break off, never be finished. They would circle around as the stars circled, always changing, always the same. She shivered.

‘You think he'll really come?' She meant Lachie.

Walter shrugged. ‘He said he would.'

They walked on in silence, their shoes squelching softly in the mud.

‘Look.' Sadie pointed at a thicket of dead tree trunks poking up from the sediment. ‘The graveyard was practically in the bush back then.'

They halted, looking around at the flat expanse of mud. It was hard for Sadie to remember the landscape as it was before the dam choked the vegetation, drowned the buildings and swallowed up the old graves.

She stared down at the crooked crosses scattered over the ground. ‘None of these are attached to their graves any more. Jimmy could be anywhere.'

‘We'll never know,' said Walter.

Sadie grabbed his arm. They held their breath as a crow hopped toward them. It flapped and bowed as if it were dancing, then stopped and stared at them, as if to be sure they were watching. ‘
Wah!
' It jabbed with its beak. ‘
Wah!
'

‘Here,' breathed Sadie. ‘Jimmy's here.'

Walter shrugged. ‘Okay.'

He slipped off his backpack and began to unload the things they'd brought: a slab of wood, a trowel, brushes and paint. ‘You want to dig the hole, or paint the sign?'

‘I'll paint,' said Sadie.

Walter stuck the point of the trowel into the baked ground. ‘Here?' he asked the crow.

‘
Wah!
' the crow agreed, and it folded its wings and watched as Walter began to dig a trough for the grave marker.

Sadie had got as far as painting
Jimmy Raven, A Clever Man
, when Walter paused and looked up. ‘Here's trouble,' he said.

They both watched silently as a lanky figure moved slowly toward them across the flat plain of mud. As he came nearer, Lachie removed his hat and wiped his brow. His fair hair flopped over the bandage on his forehead.

‘G'day,' he said.

Walter nodded.

The crow cried, ‘
Waah!
' and flapped a few paces away. It settled on the skeleton of a dead tree, where it watched them keenly.

‘Not riding your bike?' said Sadie.

‘Giving it a rest for a bit,' said Lachie.

‘How's your head?'

Lachie fingered his bandage. ‘Twelve stitches here and four in my arm,' he said with a touch of pride. ‘Got the results of the scan yesterday. It's all good, they reckon.'

‘Lucky. For you
and
me,' said Walter.

‘Yeah.' Lachie turned his hat between his fingers. ‘Thanks for, you know, getting me to the hospital
and stuff.'

‘Sorry about going into your house,' said Sadie. ‘We shouldn't have done that. But we weren't steal-
ing, we were trying to find some . . .' She hesitated. ‘Some family history.'

Lachie gazed down at the scattered remains of the wooden crosses, at Sadie's half-finished marker, and Walter's half-dug hole. ‘What's all this about? Some of my family's buried here, they say. Who's this Jimmy bloke? Not a Mortlock. One of your family, is it?'

‘Yeah,' said Walter.

‘A distant relative.' Sadie frowned, and kicked at a clod of yellow dirt. Now that the moment had come, she was finding it harder than she'd expected. ‘Jimmy Raven used to work for your great-
grandfather, Gerald Mortlock,' she said in a rush. ‘But they had a fight, and your great-grandfather killed him. And
my
great-grandfather covered it up. He buried the body here and kept it a secret. And when Gerald made the dam, Jimmy's grave got covered up with all the other graves. And the ring of stones was covered too. It was a sacred place. That's what Jimmy and Gerald were arguing about when Jimmy was killed. Jimmy knew Gerald wanted to flood the valley, and he knew the sacred place would be destroyed. He was desperate to stop it, but Gerald wouldn't listen.'

Lachie's fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. ‘You calling my great-grandpa a murderer? That's bull! He was a good man. He was a soldier in the First World War! He was a hero. We've got
his medals.'

‘I know,' said Sadie. ‘My great-grandfather was a good man, but he did a terrible thing. Even good men make the wrong decisions sometimes.'

‘I don't believe you. How do you know all this, anyway, if it was such a big secret?'

Sadie couldn't help shooting a glance at the crow on the branch, its feathers gleaming in the
sun, its head cocked as it listened intently. ‘A – a friend told me.'

Lachie walked away a little distance, his hands on his hips. Sadie and Walter glanced at each other. Walter wiped his mouth.

‘Bethany reckons he killed himself. Our great-
grandpa,' said Lachie. ‘Because of the war. Post-traumatic stress or whatever. It was years after he
came back. The family made out it was an accident. But Bethany thinks it was because of what he'd seen. What he'd been through.'

What he'd done
, thought Sadie.

‘He was shamed,' Walter said so softly that only Sadie could hear.

‘All this is going to belong to me one day,' said Lachie. ‘You realise that, don't you? Bethany doesn't want it. But I do. I love this place.'

‘I know,' said Sadie.

Lachie twirled his hat again. He squinted at the crow. ‘I had this weird dream, in hospital,' he said, almost to himself. ‘Must have been the drugs . . .' Abruptly he crammed his hat back on his head. ‘Well, if you want to put up your cross or whatever, I guess you can go ahead. Dad'll never know. He never comes here.'

Without looking at Lachie, Walter dug his trowel into the dirt. He began to whistle softly between
his teeth.

‘Okay,' said Sadie. ‘Thanks.'

Lachie stepped closer, his hands in his pockets. He crouched, and picked up one of the fallen crosses. ‘Jane Mortlock?' he read. He looked at Sadie. ‘Seems
a shame to leave them all lying round like this. Some-
one oughta tidy this place up.' He paused, then asked Walter, ‘Can I borrow that, when you're finished?'

‘Sure,' said Walter, without looking, intent on his digging.

Sadie dipped her brush into the paint pot and wrote:
Died 1933
.

‘Looks good,' said Lachie.

‘Yeah,' said Walter. ‘Just needs one more thing.'

He took the brush from Sadie, and carefully painted a black feather beneath the words, like a flourish.

Together they planted the marker in the ground at the place the crow had shown them.

‘I should have brought some flowers or some-
thing,' said Sadie.

‘Next time,' Walter said.

‘Give us a hand?' Lachie called.

The three of them moved around the tiny graveyard, straightening the fallen crosses, digging them more firmly into the ground.

‘That's better,' said Lachie at last, and wiped his forehead on his sleeve. ‘Maybe we should build a fence round it or something.'

‘We'd help you,' said Sadie.

‘Make a real headstone for Jimmy, too,' said Walter.

‘Yeah,' said Lachie.

‘We should try to find out more about Jimmy,' said Sadie. ‘Where he came from. Then maybe one day we could take him back to his own country.'

Walter scratched his chin. ‘He's been dead a long time, Sadie. How we going to do that?'

‘He was a soldier in World War I. There must be records and stuff. We could look him up.'

Slowly Walter nodded. ‘Yeah. Suppose we could try.'

‘There's heaps of war records on the internet,' said Lachie. ‘Me and Dad and Bethany looked up my great-grandpa. I could help you find Jimmy,
I reckon. If you like.'

‘Thanks, Lachie,' said Sadie.

‘Yeah,' said Walter.

The three stood in silence, gazing at their handiwork. At last Lachie glanced at his watch. ‘Better get going. The footy's starting in an hour.'

‘If we can beat Wycheproof, we're into the grand final, yeah?' said Walter.

‘Wycheproof's star forward's broken his leg,' said Lachie. ‘So we're in with a chance.' He touched the brim of his hat. ‘Well, see you round.' He began to walk away.

Sadie called out, ‘Lachie!'

He turned back.

‘Want to have another game of pool some time?'

Lachie flashed a brief grin. ‘Sure. And bring him, will ya?' He nodded at Walter. ‘I want to whip him too, while I'm at it.'

‘In your dreams, mate,' called Walter.

‘Yeah, we'll see who's dreaming!'

‘I could beat you with one hand tied behind
my back.'

‘I can beat you with stitches in my arm!' yelled Lachie, pointing to his elbow.

‘Yeah, right!'

‘Right!'

Sadie was astonished to see the two of them grinning at each other.

Lachie gave his hat a final flourish and strode away, aiming a tremendous kick at a lump of mud. ‘Goal!' he whooped, raising his arms in triumph as he received the applause of an invisible crowd, and jogged away.

‘He's such a dag,' said Sadie.

‘Yeah, he's all right when he's on his own,' agreed Walter. ‘Want to go and see the stones?'

Sadie hesitated. ‘That friend of Auntie Lily's said we shouldn't go near them till Craig builds a fence round them.'

‘Just to look,' said Walter. ‘Not to touch.'

‘I guess,' said Sadie doubtfully.

They walked side by side across the yellow mud to the hidden dip in the ground where the stones stood in their crooked vigil. The rock that Lachie had partly dislodged had been nudged back into its former position.

‘You reckon Lachie came and fixed it?' said Sadie.

‘Maybe his dad?' said Walter. ‘Maybe he didn't want to get into trouble with the Dja Dja Wurrung heritage guy.' He slowly circled the ring, pausing behind each silent stone. ‘What did he say it might be?'

‘Something to do with the stars, maybe,' said Sadie. ‘Lining up with different constellations at different times of year, so they'd know the right time for ceremonies.'

Walter nodded. ‘That's what the carvings are about?'

‘Maybe. He's not sure.'

‘Pity you can't go back a few thousand years and ask them,' said Walter. ‘The people who used to
live here.'

‘Yeah,' said Sadie. ‘Pity.'

*

The crow that had followed them across the lake bed swooped up to perch on top of one of the tall stones. It watched as the girl and the boy stood back from the sacred place, showing respect, as they should. The crow preened its feathers.

The boy straightened up. ‘Better go, if we don't want to miss the footy.'

‘I'll follow you in a minute,' the girl said.

The boy shrugged, hoisted his bag on his shoulder and walked away, his shadow wavering over the yellow mud and the tussocky swamp plants. The girl watched him go, then she turned to face the crow.

‘Hey,' she said, in a low voice. ‘I need to ask you something.' She glanced back over her shoulder, but the boy was still walking. The girl took a step closer. ‘I went to the cemetery. I wanted to visit the other Sadie's grave . . . but it was gone.' She glanced over her shoulder again. ‘Clarry's was still there, and Gerald Mortlock, and all the others, but Sadie's – it just wasn't there.'

The crow tilted its head. The girl pushed her hair behind her ears.

‘So – I went home, and I asked Mum if she knew anything about my great-aunt Sadie. And
she laughed at me. She said, of course she knew about her, otherwise she wouldn't have named me after her. She said Sadie was an amazing woman who travelled round the world and had all these incredible adventures and lived till she was eighty-three. And I said, I thought she died when she was fourteen. And Mum said, where did you get that idea from? And I said, I thought I was called Sadie because I was born on Saturday. And Mum looked at me as if I'd gone mental, and she said,
no!
And I checked my birth certificate, and it's true, I'm called Sadie – short for Sarah, not Saturday.'