Billy Two

By Garry Boyd

Set around Oodnadatta in central South Australia near the Simpson Desert, Billy Two is a cops and robbers story with many twists. This harsh country is the perfect setting for Billy Two Rivers, an expert tracker, to locate two murderers in this vast and unforgiving land. Romance with the cattle station owner's new wife and a suspenseful chase through the desert will keep you interested to the end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Garry Boyd
• Release date: Apr 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476338217

Garry Boyd

Garry Boyd was born in Sydney in 1945 and attended high school at Fort Street Boys. He represented the school at cricket and tennis. After marrying in 1971, the family moved to Gulgong in Central West New South Wales and he became involved in the coal industry, which lasted twenty-three years. In 1996 he graduated with a Bachelor of Business degree from Charles Sturt University. A sea change called and in 2001 he moved to Tea Garden where he is actively involved in community work.

Book preview

South Australia October 1955

Out near the Simpson Desert it’s not unusual for the mercury to climb quite high, even in October. Hot spring days in the country north of Oodnadatta usually indicate what’s to follow in summer; day after day of scorching sun, dusty plains and searing heat. The heat can destroy anyone foolish enough to tempt fate and cross those badlands unprepared. Flat and featureless gibber plains, where only saltbush and hardy native grasses endure, stretch from Oodnadatta to the desert. In turn they give way to dunes of red sand, more unforgiving than even the burning, blistering plain.

Visitors either love it or hate it. Those born there generally love the place.

Chapter 1

‘The Ghan: such a strange name for a train,’ remarked the woman. She continued to stare out the window, long blonde hair and blue eyes reflected in the glass like a mirror. There was a mustiness in the carriage, the smell of timber polish and ammonia. Everything was spotlessly clean, seats comfortable, but the prospect of sleeping on one all night didn’t enthuse her. Now she knew why James had suggested she bring a pillow, but she thought she knew better … regrettably, for there was no pillow aboard. With some effort she pushed the timber-framed window up and made sure it caught the latch. An unfortunate episode on another train years ago came flooding back. A window crashed down on her fingers, a most painful experience, then her nails turned black. With a bit of luck she hoped to avoid a repetition. A rush of fresh, cool air heightened her sense of anticipation. She could hear all the hustle and bustle outside.

Since childhood, steam train journeys had been an adventure. Today was no different. People hurrying about, scurrying along the platform, farewells called to loved ones, lots of waving, suitcases transferred from platform to train. Not only outside was there a sense of urgency; within the carriage people moved up and down, tickets in hand, searching for their seat. Men stood and stowed small luggage in overhead racks, an air of expectancy everywhere.

A piercing whistle followed by a shrill blast from the locomotive caught everyone’s attention. The sound of escaping steam, brilliant puffs of white smoke; her journey had begun. Everyone felt the jolt, heard the couplings of the carriages snap together as the locomotive strained. To the woman it was all part of the excitement. She knew the rest; the song would begin, the song of the train. The first blast of steam from the engine, then another, then another and another until slowly the station slid by.

She glanced briefly at her husband of nearly two wonderful, happy weeks. He met her glance and smiled briefly, both could hear the engine’s ‘puff, puffing’ and its shrill whistle. Surely The Ghan was telling the world, I’m on my way again, adding to Liza’s excitement.

‘Well dear wife, tell me, just what do they call trains in New South Wales? I take it there are no Ghans there?’ James Jerome smiled again at the pretty woman seated next to him. His wide-brimmed hat, moleskin trousers and elastic-sided boots told anyone who may have wondered that he was from the outback. Face and arms browned through years toiling in the sun, eyes dark, fair hair long at the back just over the collar. How, he thought, would this woman cope with life on Kilcare, the family property but his now, founded by his father and mother and left to their son James Jerome – named after his father and often referred to by friends as ‘Young James’. Now he was taking this woman, his newly wedded wife, to almost a thousand square miles of gibber plain and red sand soon to be her home. He had to admit that for someone who’d never been there, it wouldn’t necessarily be the most inviting of places. The drought had brought the once prosperous cattle station to its knees. Financially it was in trouble. Investing in sheep hadn’t helped; all they seemed to be doing was feeding the blasted dingos. However, he decided that ruining this moment by worrying wouldn’t change anything – plenty of time to worry when they got to Kilcare.

‘In New South Wales, trains have proper names like Express and Flyer. There certainly is nothing called anything like a Ghan. How did it get a name like that?’

‘A lot of the people responsible for opening up South Australia were from Afghanistan. They brought along their camels, plus an incredible ability to work hard and survive in an environment where, may I say … others feared to tread. They were Afghans and Ghan is just an abbreviation. So that’s how the train got its name.’

‘How interesting. That makes sense – it’s a good name. I didn’t know South Australia was settled by Afghans; thought it was the English.’ Without waiting for a reply she continued. ‘It’s so nice in South Australia. I’ve heard about the grapes and wine, are we going to live near the Barossa Valley? Is that far from Oodnadatta? Lots of vineyards there I hear. Look how green the country is. I like this train and South Australia, it’s so exciting.’

James couldn’t resist an involuntary shake of the head and silently swore, where on earth did she think she was going? He wondered if Liza listened to anything he’d told her or ever even looked at the map. Where she was going was neither the Barossa Valley nor the City of Adelaide. ‘Tell me again please, where exactly have you been in South Australia?’

Liza smiled knowingly, wondering why he appeared so concerned. ‘I went to Port Augusta one day, it was wonderful. How far is that from Oodnadatta?’

Momentarily he was lost for words. ‘Really Liza, you’ve never been past Port Augusta? Compared to Kilcare that’s practically a suburb of Adelaide. Haven’t you been to the outback in another state?’

‘No darling, furthest west I went in New South Wales was Bathurst and that’s just over the Blue Mountains. It snows there in wintertime. Bet it’s been a while since it snowed at Kilcare!’

James Jerome wondered why he chuckled at this apparent show of innocence. It was no laughing matter.

‘Believe me sweet, been quite a while, maybe never. I hope you understand, it’ll be so different. Remember what I said: no shops, no hairdresser, no theatre. Your life will be turned upside down. There are some wonderful people who live and work on Kilcare. Old Hector Thomson’s been with us since I was in nappies. He managed the place when Dad went to war – like a father to me he was. Then Dad died. Japs couldn’t kill him but malaria did. Fancy dying of malaria out on Kilcare; it’s not really known as a breeding ground for mozzies. Dad told me about them up in New Guinea; just about pick you up and carry you away, then eat you alive.’

It was a few moments before Liza replied, as if she was digesting what she’d heard. Reality then raised its head and malaria became the least of her problems. The carriage rattled and rolled along the line. Both passengers swayed on their seats in rhythm. When James heard her reply he did his best to ease the doubts in her mind.

‘What about women – are they all Aborigines?’

‘Mostly. Nearest white woman is Fran Summers over on Brighton Waters, I think you two will get on well together, she’s a wonderful woman. It’s a two-day ride over to Brighton or a day in the truck. I’ll take you there.’

‘What, is that the nearest neighbour?’

‘Yep, out here it’s like next door.’ Once again it was a while before she responded.

‘My goodness,’ whispered Liza, ‘what about the Aborigines?’

‘There’s a couple of young ones who help Hop Sing our housekeeper clean the homestead and keep the gardens going. I must say it will be interesting when you meet up with Hop, he’s a little Chinaman who has a lot of trouble pronouncing his Ls. You’ll probably be called Riza.’ James smiled as he visualised Hop Sing trying to get his tongue around this new word.

‘But back to our neighbours; the nearest property is Redmay, but there’s no white woman there – just lubras. Owners been trying to get a manager for ages. Offered it to me once. Reckon I got enough to do on Kilcare. Look, I camp out pretty often as it is; not a nine to five job out there. Some times you won’t see me for days, and that’s when I’m just working on my own place. Redmay’s pretty run down; not much stock. Don’t know why they don’t sell. I’d be interested then. Not interested in managing the place to make money for them and never be home. Look, we all get on well out there; you’ll make lots of friends. Put it this way, it’ll be a lonely life if you don’t.’ To Liza that last sentence sounded like a warning. For the first time in his company she felt uncomfortable.

‘Who else works on Kilcare? There must be some more people?’

Liza continued to gaze out the window. That exciting ‘puff puff’ of the engine wasn’t so exciting just then. A faraway look clouded her eyes; fear began to manifest itself in her stomach as she tried to comprehend the vast, open outback.

‘Well there’s Kiwi Bob the station cook. He does the cooking for Hec Thomson, young Billy Two Rivers and any of the blacks who do a bit of work. Bob is actually an Aussie. He went over to work on a sheep property in New Zealand for a few years and when he came back was dubbed Kiwi Bob. Oh yes, and I almost forgot Tarcoola Jack the bookkeeper. There’s a few people out there – you won’t be on your own.’

‘What was that other name, Billy who?’ she asked.

‘Billy Two Rivers.’ The man couldn’t help but grin at his wife’s quizzical reply. ‘He’s been on Kilcare since he was a little baby. An old buck found him near where two rivers meet. The old bloke’s name was Billy. Out here the rivers are dry most of the time – not rivers like you usually think of. Anyway, it appeared his mother died giving birth. So because Billy found him near the junction of two rivers, that’s how he got his name.’

‘Amazing,’ she mumbled. ‘How far is it then to Redmay?’

‘Only a day’s ride or about five or so hours in the truck. If it rains you can’t drive; have to be on horseback. Same thing with Brighton Waters.

‘Only ah … I see, I didn’t realise it was so isolated.’

‘Darling, I showed you on the map how far away Kilcare is. It hasn’t moved. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you how to ride – promise.’ The man sounded a little exasperated. Life in the outback was going to be one big hell of a lifestyle change for her.

This time the woman smiled. ‘You won’t have to, I already know.’

‘What, you can ride? You never told me that.’

‘You never asked, and I didn’t think it was important … but I do now. My dad came from Dubbo, a country town in New South Wales. He went to Sydney to join the Police Force and because he was a pretty good horseman they put him in the Mounted Police. Later on he became an instructor. We lived near a big park in Sydney, called Centennial Park, where he exercised the horses. So I rode nearly every day. Haven’t ridden for a while but I was fairly good – had to be if Dad taught me.’

‘Well blow me down, that is good news. You’ll be able to ride over by yourself,’ and to himself mused maybe she’s not a hopeless as I thought.

‘What! How will I know where to go? I’ll get lost!’

James almost smiled. Was there no end to her naivety? ‘Silly, we’ll send Hec or Billy with you until you know the way. After a couple of times it’ll be like riding down your own street. Look, I know you don’t realise how big the outback is until you’re there. It seems just miles and miles of nothing except flies and dust. Once you understand the country, it’s as easy to find your way as following street signs in a city.’ Despite these words Liza looked far from convinced.

‘Are you having second thoughts? Adelaide is Adelaide; Kilcare is definitely not Adelaide. Thought you understood.’

‘I heard what you said, but things have moved so fast the last month or so I don’t think I thought enough about it. Everything was so exciting; it was all going to be a big adventure. It’s just so new to me that’s all. No, I’m not having second thoughts.’

‘If you do, we can talk about it. Give it a while, then you won’t care if you never go back to Adelaide. The outback has wonders never seen in a city. They can be right under your nose; all you got to do is open your eyes.’ James looked at his new bride, her face filled with doubt. Gently he squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t worry darling, you’ll be right.’

Liza smiled back uncertainly. ‘I think I might powder my nose. Is the ladies at the back of the carriage?’

‘Sure is, stretch your legs for a bit. There’s a long way to go.’

He watched her walk unsteadily down the aisle, now and then needing to hold on to a seat for support as the train lurched along. Finally she found the door and disappeared from view. Several seats behind sat a young Aboriginal woman. She’d never be noticed if he hadn’t turned to watch Liza. Instantly he thought of Meena – that little distraction would have to go. It had been good while it lasted but, he smiled to himself, all good things come to an end. His smile soon disappeared when he thought of the cattle down south and the cost of agistment, not to mention the sheep he’d tried – they were being systematically killed off by the damn dingos. Everyone told him sheep wouldn’t work but he went ahead anyway. On the ground outside, the train’s shadow danced up and down when the landscape rose or fell. Sometimes the shadow was long, sometimes it was short. Only a couple of hundred head of cattle left on the property, about five hundred down south. Bloody price at the sales was rock bottom. Shooting them would save money, but then there’d be no breeding stock. He was still deep in thought when Liza returned.

‘My goodness,’ she said, ‘do you know that in the toilet there’s just a pipe? You can see to the ground. Everything just falls on the tracks!’

He heard her but his reply sounded distant, almost an afterthought.

‘Yes I know, that’s how we do things out here.’

‘What are the toilets like at Kilcare? Are they holes in the ground? They’re inside the house aren’t they?’

This time he turned to face her, his face strangely impassive. ‘Darling you are half right and half wrong. Yes they are holes in the ground and no they’re not inside, that’s the way it is. One other thing: it’s OK to drink the rainwater – if there’s any left that is – but don’t drink any bore water unless it’s boiled first. Believe me, you’ll only ever do it once. Then you won’t care what sort of toilet there is – any dunny will do.’ The colour seemed to drain from her pretty face. Bravely she continued.

Tell me about Oodnadatta, are there any shops there?’

‘Just a General Store. Guess what though – it’s got a pub. Be there tomorrow. Fancy a cold beer?’

‘I’d like two things; a cold bath and a cold beer, preferably at the same time because I can’t decide which I want first. What’s happening? The train’s slowing down.’

James looked at his watch. ‘Should be coming to Hookina soon, train stops there a while for water. Don’t know why they’re using a steam train. Changed over to diesel engines last year. Must be broken down.’

To Liza this was good news. She felt her spirits lift. ‘We can get out and buy something to eat. Thank goodness I am a bit peckish.’

James’s face was totally devoid of expression. ‘Dear wife, we are stopping to fill up with water for the locomotive. There’s no shop. The only people living here are fettlers and their families. They work on the track. See the tents, the washing hanging on the line, the kids waving. They’re the temporary population of Hookina. When their work is done they’ll go somewhere further up the line. If you’re hungry, I can get some corn beef and pickle sandwiches from the dining car – recommend them for sure.’

Liza found herself starring as if hypnotised at a wretched cluster of tents. Who could have envisaged a tiny tent town way out there in the seemingly endless, all consuming red earth? And children too …?

‘How far from Kilcare is it to Oodnadatta?’

‘When we leave the train it’s only another three hours in the truck.’

Liza continued to gaze out the window. Absentmindedly she whispered, ‘I see’.

Chapter 2

Back home at Kilcare, sitting on the ground in the shade of an old peppercorn tree, Billy Two Rivers rolled yet another cigarette. His long, brown fingers darted about the paper and tobacco much like a spider weaves its web. One quick lick along the paper edge and another cigarette was born, he held it up for inspection and smiled a little. Just like all the others, it was expertly done. Then with a deft strike of a match, smoke began to drift about in the stifling, midday heat. Contentedly he watched as it hung suspended in the air; for there was barely a breath of wind to disturb its flight. From close by an irritated voice broke the leaden silence.

‘Couple of things I been meanin’ to tell you, young Billy,’ drawled Hector Thomson. ‘First, this tree ain’t big enough for both of us, and two, you smoke too much.’ Billy, in the style of a true bushman, took his time before replying.

‘Know what, Hec, smokin’ keep flies away. Ain’t no flies about me. Look like you servin’ flies free beer; flies everywhere. Get over other side if you don’t got enough room.’

‘I was here first before you, and that stinkin’ fag stuck in your mouth. What you smokin’ today, horse dung or cow? That what it smells like I tell you.’

‘I smokin’ Champion Ruby. Best weed ever – better even then dung.’

‘Fair dinks, Bill, how come you know it’s better than dung? You ever smoked dung?’

‘No way, Hec – just pullin’ your leg. You soft in head today. Sun gone got you?’

Hector Thomson’s chin dropped onto his chest. Slowly he pulled an old, black Akubra down over his eyes. Then he raised it again to scratch a head bald as a baby’s bottom. Hairless as his head was, he could lay claim to the best pair of sideburns in the district. Baldness hadn’t affected his thick, greying mutton chops. Once that irritating itch on the head was relieved, the hat was pulled down again – the customary signal that conversation was over. ‘You’re not funny Billy,’ he replied after several seconds. ‘Why don’t you have a snooze?’

Billy drew deeply on the cigarette, grey eyes watching a plume of smoke float slowly skyward to irritate a flock of budgerigars who’d sought refuge in the tree’s leafy canopy. It appeared the smoke annoyed them, for suddenly they were involved in a huge argument, each shrieking at the other. The brilliant green plumage of the birds stood out from the darker foliage of the tree. Billy reckoned there must have been a thousand up there all doing their best to escape the scorching sun.

‘What you think about the new Missus, Hec? You seen her? Why don’t you get invited to big weddin’?’

This time, Thomson scratched his belly, then sighed loudly. ‘Strike me roan mate, I don’t know –.mustn’t be high ’nough up the peckin’ order. I’m not worried; never want to go to Adelaide anyway. Better stay here and look after the place. If I could do somethin’ I’d make it rain, that be for sure. Pity about the weddin’, but I'd rather see some rain. Anyways, Young James takes himself off to some cattleman’s meetin’, goes out to dinner one night and meets this waitress sheila. Ends up he stays for six weeks and gets himself hitched. How the flamin’ hell was I supposed to meet her, seein’ I didn’t go to the blinkin’ weddin’? Now put that damn stinkin’ bastard out and go to sleep, we got work to do tonight movin’ them steers over to Linga Longa Bore. You better not go to sleep on me tonight you young bugger or I’ll toe you up the khyber.’

Billy’s laughter startled the budgerigars who launched into a tirade of abuse after another disturbance of their peace. ‘Tarcoola Jack says new Missus be late for the weddin’. Why does he think that Hec?’ A long sigh issued from the man under the black Akubra before his exasperation showed.

‘What’s up with you, Bill? Don’t you know brides are always late for their weddin’? It’s all part of the ceremony. Strike me flamin’ pink, where you been all your life?’

‘I always been here on Kilcare. Ain’t been nowhere else. Only been to one weddin’; got so full not sure whose it was.’

‘You’re a daft bugger you miserable streak of misery. You know what’s the difference between us and a bride? Everyone expects her to be late; the whole world wouldn’t care if we weren’t somewhere at some particular time, late or early.’

‘Think we more different than that, mate.’

‘Hell’s bells, you don’t say, you dopey bugger.’

Billy brushed away a fly. ‘Think I’ll have another fag. Flies annoyin’ me,’ and magically produced the makings in a flash. ‘Tarcoola reckons Young James and the new Missus went to Streaky Bay for holiday You been there?’

‘No, I ain’t been there, but I seen the ocean. There’s sharks in that ocean, so big they can swallow you in one mouthful. Strike, I hate to run into one of them buggers.’

‘True Hec, you really seen the sea? You’re not kiddin’ me?’

‘No mate, it’s like the biggest lake you ever seen – can’t see the other side. Sometimes there’s waves big as houses and sharks big as horses. I tell you, got to be careful in the water; people get ate by sharks everyday in Adelaide. Don’t know why they don’t poison ’em like they do dingos.’

Billy Two Rivers frowned in concentration. Those long brown fingers had manufactured another near-perfect cigarette, it seemed to Hector Thomson, in the time normal people took to blink. ‘Strewth, fancy a dingo big as a horse – scare you outa your boots. Tarcoola says my new rifle be next delivery. Need one them cannons you see in the paper to shoot a dingo like that. You know, one of them cannons like in the army.’

‘Crikey Bill, there ain’t no dingo that big – only sharks. There ain’t enough water around here for a tadpole let alone a shark. How much did Tarcoola hit you up for the rifle?’

Another cloud of blue smoke floated imperceptibly skywards to annoy the budgerigars again. ‘Twenty-two quid. Reckons he got one with a telescope – makes everything so big you can’t miss. Can’t wait till it comes.’

‘Trust me cobber, you need all the help you can get to hit anything. What about that bloody Mangles. Biggest bloody dingo either of us ever see and you miss from fifty yards. I couldn’t believe it. What happened again you say?’

‘Just as I pull the flamin’ trigger, your big ugly head sticks up. One look at ugly you, he’s off like a maggoty chop. Spent three days tracking that fella, you blow it in one second. Bastard still goin’ round killin’ sheep – dirty murderin’ bastard.’

‘You had him in your sights so flamin’ long I thought you was waitin’ for him to pose for a flamin’ photograph. Strike me lucky, blame me why don’t you. Anyway, I reckon Young James made a real blue runnin’ sheep. No one else around here has anythin’ to do with ’em. All that seems to be happenin’ is Mangles is havin’ a sheep dinner every night. It must be costin’ a fortune to agist them cattle down south. Now it’s