Texas (28 page)

‘This place looks more like a pub in England,' said Laura.

‘With the dark wood and the carpet.'

‘Does it?' said Susannah absently, watching the children, resigned to the moment approaching when things spiralled out of control.

‘I feel like I'm in a parallel world. I can't get used to it. The pub, where I was, it's only a street away.'

‘Yeah, right,' said Susannah. ‘Stop that. There'll be no chips if you don't sit properly.' She looked across at Laura. ‘They've got a dress code here.' She reached for the food and glanced back. ‘So are you going to stay in town? What are you going to do?'

Texas ‘Oh, no, I can't stay here. I think there's a bus that comes in the evening. I've got to go to the bank.' Laura hesitated and looked towards the doors. ‘I don't want to see him. I don't know what he's thinking. I don't want him to be hurt.'

‘Well of course he's going to be hurt. But you know there's always next season. He'll get over it.'

When she saw the expression on Laura's face, she said quickly, ‘Sorry, I didn't mean that you weren't . . . um . . . important to him.'

‘I hope he's all right.'

‘He's probably thinking the same thing about you,' said Susannah, although she did wonder what he felt about it all. The ending was predictable but not because of Texas. Susannah had always thought their relationship was like one of those holiday romances she'd heard about from her friends. But Susannah was surprised Laura had stayed as long as she had.

‘I need to get organised,' said Laura.

‘Perhaps you should have a wash first.' She meant it kindly but Laura blushed and then her expression hardened.

‘Look, I better get going.' She rose out of her seat.

‘Laura, I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to sound like that. I just thought there're rooms out the back here and they might let you use the shower . . . well, you don't want to bump into him. I've done everything I need to in town . . . I can wait until the bus comes . . . If you want.'

Susannah wasn't sure why she cared so much. Perhaps she wanted to see what it was like to leave.

Laura was still for a moment. Then she sat down and, without looking at Susannah, she said in a small, tight voice, ‘I would like that. Thank you.'

The tavern manager had wanted some money for the use of the shower and Susannah paid it while Laura went to the car to get her things. Then they were driving around town again and Susannah noticed the way Laura looked in the other direction when they passed groups of Aboriginal people in the street or in the park near the trees. Susannah hadn't thought about it before but she wondered where they lived and why they were there, sitting in groups or standing around in the heat. Had Laura been there? She couldn't imagine what it must have been like. They went to the bank and then to the post office to find out about the bus. Laura climbed back in the vehicle.

‘It leaves at five out the front of the pub.'

Susannah glanced at her watch. It was only one o'clock.

‘We could go out to the dam. They reckon everyone should see that before they go.'

‘Okay,' said Laura but without much enthusiasm.

‘It'll kill some time anyway,' added Susannah, and she put the vehicle into reverse.

They drove out of town as if they were driving back to the station. Susannah had passed the sign that marked the turnoff many times before. But even though she knew this section of the road well and the shape of the hills had become familiar, it always felt as though she was entering another country.

‘I feel so guilty,' said Laura.

Texas Susannah glanced at her after they turned off onto the narrow gravel road.

‘You don't need to feel guilty. You're from England. You're just passing through.'

‘I don't know whether to be insulted or reassured.' Laura pressed her lips together.

‘It wasn't meant to be insulting,' said Susannah, trying to find a kinder tone. She stared into the country, feeling Laura's eyes on her as she steered the vehicle along the skinny strip of dirt that wound around the side of a hill. Its edges were sharp and rocky and large boulders seemed mounted at impossible angles.

‘The thing is, I've always thought of myself as a country girl but I'm not sure what that means any more.' What was she trying to tell Laura? Was there any point in explaining herself when Laura would be gone very soon? She could tell her that to know a place was to learn how the past might've shaped the present. Then perhaps you could avoid being trapped by other people's thoughts and ideas. But it was also impossible to know a place. It was like trying to know everything about a person. She didn't doubt that Laura loved Texas. She had nothing to tell Laura. She was still trying to work it out for herself.

They drove on, down gullies and up again. More hills appeared, irregular in shape, and vegetation grew thinly and patchily like an adolescent growing his first beard. The vehicle climbed a long hill and followed a curve in the road and then they came out onto the lookout, and water, metal grey and flat like a mirror, lay across the earth as far as the eye could see, interrupted by hills and rocky outcrops transformed into islands, pale vertical lines at their base, marking the variation in water level.

‘Wow, this is amazing,' said Laura.

‘It covers a lot of country,' said Susannah.

She turned off the engine. It was impressive, perhaps because it was so unexpected. The way you came upon it; it was like a great secret suddenly revealed, although what you saw was only the surface and there was no indication of depth. She looked over her shoulder. Both boys had fallen asleep. She wound down the windows and the hot thick air enveloped them. Above the water lightning sparked in sheets and the occasional spear of light shot from a ridge of dark cloud. Ollie started to moan.

He complained of the heat and it woke Ned. Susannah turned the engine on again.

‘We could get an ice cream.'

Susannah drove on to a building beside a caravan park. A woman was locking the door of the kiosk.

Susannah turned to Laura. ‘We better get going. It looks like it's going to rain.'

Water splattered the windscreen in big drops and the wipers worked to remove them intermittently. The country was fading in the grey light. Trees were dark, irregular shapes that twisted out of the landscape. Laura seemed deep in thought. Perhaps in her mind she had already left. The rain was getting heavier and Susannah slowed down to negotiate the slippery wet road.

Suddenly it became cooler and easier to breathe. The boys were chatting quietly to themselves.

‘What will you do?'

Texas Susannah was startled by Laura's question. She didn't answer for a moment.

‘Things have changed a bit since you left.' She glanced in the rear-vision mirror as though to check on the boys. ‘We've worked out a few things. I'm going to be more involved with what John's doing. I don't know whether I want to do any mustering but at least I get to know what's going on and we're getting someone to help look after the children.'

Perhaps none of it would have happened if Laura hadn't worked on the place.

‘Really, I'm pleased for you,' said Laura. ‘I thought you might leave.'

‘No,' she smiled. ‘I'm not leaving.'

Acknowledgements

This story takes place in the Kimberley region of Western Australia and although some features of the country I describe may be familiar to some people, it was not my intention to locate it on any particular station. Nor is any character based on any person, living or dead. However, Irish's yarn, which begins on page 38, was inspired by a true event that was told to Bruce Shaw by Jack Sullivan and recorded in
Banggaiyerri:
The Story of Jack Sullivan
, pages 70–74. Another version of that story is referred to by John on page 78 and by Texas on page 174. Other accounts of the same event involving a pastoralist called Jack Kelly and an Aboriginal man named Major who lived in the East Kimberley in the early 1900s are found in the same Bruce Shaw publication, pages 215–219, and in Mary Durack's
Sons in the Saddle
, pages 195–197.

In most cases I have attempted to reproduce the idiosyncratic use of language in that area from my own experience in the Kimberley as a jillaroo and journalist, but I have also consulted Bruce Shaw's
Banggaiyerri: The Story of Jack Sullivan
. I am grateful to Kevin Shaw for sharing with me his knowledge of the Kimberley and the terms ‘fifty-fifty', page 168; ‘Toyota and footwalking road', page 213; and the story of the ‘frontier men', page 224.

Chapter titles are taken from the titles of Westerns published by Cleveland Publishing Company, Brookvale, NSW, with the exception of
Men fell prey to her angel eyes and her killing
ways
, which was the title of a WB Longley Western, Paperjacks, Toronto, Canada. I am also grateful to Cleveland Publishing for permission to use the following extracts. The extract on page 9 is from page 7 of
Violent Sundown
by Kirk Hamilton, Cleveland Publishing, and the extract on page 193 is from page 97 of
Red River Crossing
by Brett Iverson, Cleveland Publishing. The Western Susannah reads on pages 225–229 is an abridged version of
By Sundown
by Ben Jefferson, Cleveland Publishing.

Lyrics from ‘God bless Robert E Lee' by Borchers & Vickery on page 206, published by Sony/ATV Music Publishing, are used with permission by Sony/ATV Music Publishing (Australia) Pty Limited.

The reference to a cookbook on page 107 and the recipe on page 113 are from
The CWA Cookery Book and Household Hints
, 1936, King Street, Perth.

Texas This book was written in part during two residencies, one at the University of Western Australia through the Westerly Centre and the other at Varuna, The Writers House, through the CAL Second Book Project.

I would like to thank the many people who made this book possible. They are Janine Milne, Wendy and Dave Thornbury, Gemma and Jamie Laurisson, Kevin Shaw, Alasdair Cooke, Pete Harold, Ash Bosworth, Helen Renshaw, Antonia Wise and Peter Bishop. I also thank those who had a direct involvement in the developing manuscript: my family including Jamie Venerys, Ian and Jan Hay, Lisa Revelins, Robert Purdew and Nancy Hay; Brenda Walker who has offered advice and encouragement throughout the project; and the very professional team at Allen & Unwin, in particular Annette Barlow, Catherine Milne, Clara Finlay and Julia Stiles.