The Wild Bunch

By Dallas Sherringham

The amazing story of an American artist and her three daughters who flee an abusive husband in San Francisco and hide in the remotest, wildest region on earth, Australia's north west territory,The Kimberley. She meets wildlife ranger Scott "Crocman" Kelly and they fall in love. A beautifully written book by a master storyteller, full of romance, fun, adventure and discoveries about life

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dallas Sherringham
• Release date: Jul 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311136039

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Kathy Swenson had another hectic day behind her. She had spent it in the Artisan Gallery in Market St, the bustling, ever changing, ever beating heart of San Francisco. Another exhibition of her well known paintings was due to open in a matter of days and as usual everything was well behind time.

The labels she had arranged to be printed had not arrived and the gallery owner Jo McNamara was renowned for her arrogance and commanding presence. She wanted the works hung in a certain way, but Kathy had a plan for her works and she was digging her heels in. Kathy could be formidable when confronted and it was kind of a standoff at the gallery.

Don’t panic Jo, they’ll be done, she said with a hint of anger. Kathy was a California girl and didn’t take rubbish from anyone, even if it was the most powerful figure in West Coast art circles.

It was Kathy’s opal eyes that won so many hearts. They flashed with a brilliance that stunned those who met her. Her beauty was undeniable, classically evergreen, as though out of a gallery of life’s best works no mortal man could ever create. Her dark hair looked black but when the light caught it there was a breathtaking red brown tinge to it. When she spoke it was like beautiful music heard on a warm summer’s day. The words flowed like a melody that was written from the heart.

Finally she was on her way home, but that journey would not bring her a reprieve from conflict. You see, Kathy’s husband Vlad, a Russian businessman with questionable contacts and friends, was also a very strong individual. He had been brought up in the austere and harsh world of urban Moscow. He and Kathy had a daughter together, Anastasia, who was known to everyone as Little Ana.

Kathy had two other daughters, teenagers Emily and Jane, who were from her first marriage to Jeremy, a US Army Sergeant who never made it home from the war in the Middle East. Sgt Jeremy Rourke was killed in action in Afghanistan, dying in the sand beside his fellow platoon members defending a small, now forgotten god forsaken desert village against the Taliban. As she drove home, her mind flashed back to the terrible day she heard the news. A friend had phoned to say that a Platoon had been ambushed and it was on CNN. Four men had died. Kathy watched in horror as she saw the bodies of the dead men on television, their faces obscured but the Platoon markings unmistakable. She knew it was Jeremy, even before the knock at the door came followed by the comforting speech and the emptiness of it all. Her world had disappeared in instant. When Jeremy died, all Kathy’s hopes and dreams and the joy of together watching their daughters become young ladies and building a life of their own was taken away. Jeremy and Kathy would never grow old together, never again find comfort in the warmth of each other’s arms.

Vlad came along almost by accident. She met him at an art show of all places. Vlad’s youth had been spent wandering the streets of Moscow and he was drawn to the great art works that were free to view for all Russians. There was a magic in the way the great artists had placed the oil paint on the canvas and Vlad realized he would never be that talented. However, he dreamt of being with people who could create that magic, people who could capture the light of the world and hold it in their hand. Vlad was a strange mixture: a street wise petty thief who understood there were beautiful things to be had at the end of his rainbow.

Kathy was just such a person. He saw her painting at an Art Show and sought her out amongst the mass of colorful, expensively dressed, preening, fawning people that was the art set.

Vlad and Kathy hit it off straight away. They went for drinks and then a wild night of passion followed. Kathy fell for his charm and his Russian good looks, the strong build and the forceful way he had.

Kathy’s friends minded her daughters Emily and Jane while she was whisked off to Las Vegas by Vlad and they married, as much out of passion than love for each other.

That adventure saw Kathy become pregnant and nine months later Little Ana arrived. Vlad had wanted a boy desperately and seemed to hold it against Kathy. The years changed him. The smile of the early days slowly gave way to a constant sarcastic scowl. His moods grew darker and he started staying out late and eventually all night.

When he came home he was always angry and he verbally attacked Kathy’s elder daughters for being noisy and annoying.

Ana grew from a baby to a lovely little girl with pigtails and her mother’s stunning looks. But she spoke with a slight impediment that only made her cuter in Kathy’s eyes.

Kathy changed too. Where there was once fire in her heart and endless love for life, she became a pale imitation of the bubbly, fun filled person she once was. Emily and Jane saw her change before their very eyes and felt sorrow for their mum and the shadows of her changing face.

Now the forthcoming exhibition of her work would make her a national celebrity if all went well.

Vlad was not impressed by her finding a new independence and building a life for herself. An argument broke out and he slapped Kathy in a fit of rage, but he was quick to apologize. She put it down to stress; Vlad’s questionable business interest in bars and nightclubs was doing well, but the pressure put on by Russian friends made life extremely difficult for him.

Kathy, I love you, I would never mean to harm you in any way. I’m sorry sweetie, he said in his thick Russian drawl and rolled his eyes to show his sorrow.

The next time he hit Kathy in front of the girls, she was shocked. Vlad made a joke of her horror and something changed forever. A bond was broken that could never be restored. Kathy was ashamed and apologized to the girls for what had happened, saying it was her fault he had hit her.

Don’t say that mum, the very serious Emily said taking hold of Kathy. You married a monster mum. You have to get out now.

That’s silly Emily, it’ll come good, just give it time, Kathy replied wiping away the tears.

Emily picked up a mirror and held it up to Kathy’s face: Look what the mongrel has done to you mum. Face the truth.

Kathy looked to the normal jovial Jane for sympathy, but she shook her head and said: Emily is right mum, we have to do something.

Kathy dreaded Vlad coming home now, but she was determined to make a stand. Finally late one night after a particularly bad fight she summoned up the courage to say something.

Vlad, I have something to tell you. The girls and I have decided that you and I need a break from one another. Babe, you have to stay away for a while.

Vlad looked stunned and screamed What! You’re joking! Kathy looked at him, grew angry and decided to play the biggest card of her life: Vlad, in fact I…I want a divorce.

Break! Stay Away! Divorce! Who do you think you are? This is my house and you are my wife.

He picked his coffee cup and threw it straight at Kathy’s head, just missing her head as she ducked.

"Ana is my child. If you kick me out I can’t stay in America. It is never going to happen. Never ever!’

He slammed the table with his clenched fist and then brushed all the plates and utensils off the top sending them flying across the room."

He charged around and grabbed her by the throat: Don’t ever mention this again, and slapped her so forcefully she slumped on the floor.

And always remember dopey, I don’t really need you and your daughters, I just need Ana to stay here.

She was left sobbing on the floor and lay there for what seemed like an eternity hoping the girls would not see her this way.

Kathy knew that Vlad wasn’t going to give in: it was his way to win every battle in life no matter what it cost. She had no-one to turn to. And she knew he was mixed up in some serious criminal activities and had done very bad things to people who stood in his way.

Her life had gone from wedded bliss to a living horror story in just a few years and she had no idea what to do.

She walked out on to the balcony and looked towards the Golden Gate Bridge. Stars hung over the bay she loved. She knew she needed a miracle to get out of this alive and she made a wish upon those lonely stars. Kathy turned back to the emptiness of her world and knew it would never come true. Desperate people make desperate wishes in their darkest hour, knowing they’ll never come true, she thought and went off to cry herself to sleep.

CHAPTER 2

Scott Crocman Kelly sat on the top step of the Wallaroo National Park headquarters in Australia’s Kimberly region and surveyed his amazing world. The Lost Kingdom of the Kimberley they had called it for centuries because no-one was able to settle here permanently. The early trading ships and buccaneers of Europe sailed past here and gazed out upon a total wilderness. It was untamable, impenetrable …… and still is to this day. Only the nomadic Aboriginal tribes of the region could survive the Kimberley.

Scott had a kind of toehold on the area, but even he realized a white man could perish in a flash in this area. His National Park was as big as some countries in Europe yet just a handful of people existed there.

Still a fit man in his late 30s, Scott lived at the headquarters which doubled as a ramshackle homestead surrounded by ancient verandahs, crowned with galvanized iron roofing. He shared it with his young son The Skipper. The name came from the boy’s ability to get his own way and his love of steering the park boat around the canyons and rivers, so Scott nicknamed him The Skipper and it stuck. Officially Sachin Tendulkar Kelly, he was the product of a relationship with a young Indian research assistant named Sheenah from Mumbai. She came to Wallaroo National Park to study the crocodiles and the couple fell in love. Sheenah had fallen pregnant and went to Broome by air ambulance to have then baby. She brought her baby home but contracted dengue fever and died in Scott’s arms at the headquarters. Scott learnt after her death that her parents had disowned her. Indian girls never became pregnant out of wedlock. Scott tried to make contact but could never get through to them.

Scott picked his nickname Crocman from a visiting TV crew which was making a documentary for the Discovery Channel. He didn’t particularly like it and never used it himself.

As he gazed out across the red rock walls that surrounded the beautiful blue lagoon which fronted his home, the western horizon turned a startling golden orange and the sky above was a deep purple. The all-pervading heat of the sun finally went to its rest for one more night. Scott wondered about the endless days and nights he spent in that place. He was deeply appreciative of the unique life he had led and the opportunities that had been given to him. But all his life he had craved for love, that aching quest which beats in the heart of all men. Scott had finally found true love in the arms of the haunting, stunning beauty of Sheenah, but it had suddenly been snatched away from him. Now he was alone again, just him and one lonely, alienated little boy who also craved the love that he had never known.

Skipper came and sat beside him and gazed out upon the scene. What are you looking at dad? The Skipper asked. Scott looked straight ahead and after a brief few moments he said: The future son, the future.

Are you worried about it? The Skipper asked. Scott looked at his tiny son and placed a hand on his shoulder: Not at all son, all things work out in the long run. With those words Scott summed up the philosophy of all men who lived on the land in the unconquerable, unforgiving continent that is Australia. The timeless and unending land that seemed to suck everything you have to give from your body, yet always wanted more. Scott knew that things had a way of mending themselves in the long run. The all-conquering pain that came with losing the one you love, eventually became just a dull ache that never left you but allowed you the space to get back to a normal life.

They both peered out as the sun finally plunged below the far horizon, each with their own thoughts. The Skipper worried about his father, the moods and silences that seemed to keep them apart. He knew there was an unbreakable bond between them, that he would always be safe and cared for, but he wondered why his father never really talked to him or wanted to spend a lot of time with him.

Scott wondered about The Skipper. It was unfair to keep him in such a place, to never know the fun and laughter of being with other kids, to always have to play on his own. Scott’s father had been taken from him as a young child, leaving him to battle on as a shy, isolated child on the outskirts of a small country town. Here he had learnt the ways of the bush, the means of survival, the priceless gifts of having to fend for yourself. Scott stood on his own two feet from a young age and took the world he was given as his own little kingdom. He talked to the kangaroos at dusk down by the creek, laughed with the kookaburras rattling their feathers high above and liked to pick up a red bellied black snaked by the scruff of the neck and peer at its venom charged fangs.

However Scott didn’t want The Skipper to grow up that way. He wanted him to know the other world, the world of friends and birthday parties, the world of wonderful games, love and laughter, a world he had never known.

Time for dinner mate, Scott said as they ended their afternoon vigil. Perhaps love would find them one day, but that was an unreachable dream in their world at the moment.

Another day had come and gone in that place, just like all the days in the Kimberley, days of endless heat and sunshine, blue skies, red canyons and turquoise waters that always seemed to be alive with life and movement.

That night The Skipper lay awake in his tiny room and gazed out on his world, the only world he had ever known.

Now, The Skipper had inherited his mother’s spiritual beliefs and knew that there was a greater force in his universe that held the heart of every man somewhere in the faraway stars. He knew that his mother lived here still and was around him every day, every night, watching over her him and touching his soul with tender hands

He heard whispers on the breeze that only a spirit could make. He knew Scott heard them too but wouldn’t admit it.

The Skipper had found a