Even the Land Cries!

By Lainey May

Set against the backdrop of Australia in the 1860s—a vast and beautiful land that protects more secrets than it gives up—the displaced peoples of two nations were thrown together in a fierce struggle to exist in an isolated, inhospitable landscape. Caught between the harsh climate, nature, and the darkest sides of man, life in the wild remoteness of south eastern, West Australia was not for the weak of heart.

Inspired by historical events from Australia’s wild history in the long ago, Even the Land Cries! takes readers inside the rugged land and the strong, resilient people who sought to tame it. Jared Ryan, a bold and spirited young man of twenty, sets out to find and claim his far-flung property with his younger brother Liam at his side. Together, the brothers must call upon their raw courage to survive amidst innumerable dangers to open up farming land. Their plans are complicated by the many characters who also called this beautiful but wild land their home; heroes, heroines, and scoundrels. They’re all brought together, against a diabolical backdrop of lust, treachery, and anarchy that would change each of their lives forever.

Bigotry, lies, disgrace, outrage, treason, betrayal, and forbidden love will either motivate these young souls into forces for good or for evil, which in turn will impact the land. If they can survive the many challenges this harsh new life demands of them, they just may come to love the land as their own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Sep 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781452524931

Lainey May

Lainey and family have lived in the beautiful outback of South Australia, North Western Australia, Southern Australia and Queensland. Outback living teaches resilience and resilience learned, with close family’s care and faith, brought Lainey through cancer, surgery and treatment throughout 1999. "Quality of life, not quantity,” my brilliant surgeon said, after scraping a 3 centimetre, aggressive tumour, from my chest wall." Radiotherapy, minimal chemotherapy; I was too weak to take another dose and then clinical depression; lymphoedema; intermittent fears; soul-searching, family breakup followed. My wonderful close family, lived through the horrific cancer trauma also; together we made it!; A TIME and PLACE, has taken the writing down of some of our exciting experiences in North Western Australia; a wonderful backdrop to my novel and the recounting of a love that is faithful, was easily writable, from my very blessed experiences.

Book preview

1

BEGINNINGS

T he story begins in 1867 in the port colony of Albany, on the southern coast of Western Australia. There, Jared Ryan, third son to Riley Ryan, harbor master at Albany harbor, stands before his father and attempts with his words to lay hold of a future of which he has long dreamed. The hope of a land parcel, a broad and fertile tract of his own on which to pasture sheep and crop wheat.

Da, ’tis good sheep country, could be ore bearing too, so Brennan says, Jared recounted.

Aye, an’ what would Bren know at the grand ol’ age o’ sixteen, Boyo? Riley Ryan asked, exasperated.

Ah, come on, Da! retorted Jared. All that time with th’ assayer out in the backblocks? Bren knows what he be on about; I’m thinking! Jared took note then dropped his gaze as he realised the sharpness of his tone toward his father. Riley sensed Jared’s frustration and his mind raced as he considered this boy of his, standing there, a full six feet tall and maybe more, he reckoned, as he stretched his neck to take in the fullness of the boy’s stature. Gracie was right, Riley mused. His son was no longer a boy! Jared was surely a man, be it, a young man, standing across from him at the hearth. Riley realized for the first time that he must acknowledge this young man’s request. The lad had every right to ask his father to assist him to apply for a landholding.

Jared was desperate to take hold of his freedom, his birthright in this new world that his parents had pioneered. Riley and Grace’s home, the Wharfer’s Cottage, had been provided with the harbor-master position that Riley had been lucky to have settled on, before he and Grace had set sail from the old country. Riley’s years spent on the dories in the cold Irish Sea, barely eking out a living, had, at last, proved a boon.

Nautical knowledge was the means by which Riley had obtained some security for Gracie and himself, in this far-off harbour town. He thought back to when he and Gracie had arrived at the Albany harbor, thirty years back, and newlywed into the bargain. They had left no-one and nothing behind them in Ireland, save famine, horror, and death. There was naught but themselves to bring, yet they had each other and a hope that would not diminish. With courageous hearts they were determined to endure this isolated outstation on those wild southern shores. And Grace and Riley Ryan had endured!

Such grim isolation food shortages and adverse weather conditions; all these the Ryan family had withstood in those early years. There in Albany town, they raised their four, first generation Australian-born sons. Their lads were fine and strong, brought up in the Port to plenty and freedom. From early boyhood, each lad had taken in the ceaseless yarning of the menfolk thereabouts, when they had been in Albany town, gathering supplies.

Those pioneer farmers, after their trading, and with provisions gathered, would settle in the early hours of the evening at one of the many local public establishments to share tales of their land packets which were strewn across the vast region. There was ever talk about the richness of the soils; of pastures easily cleared and ready for livestock; the abundance of water in the rivers; and good, reliable, rainfall to keep the land productive.

Every Albany lad, who had a yen for landholding, understood his prospects from an early age. This younger set came into the hotels every Friday night, from where such talk emanated as the liquor flowed. Mixing with over-landers and farmers, the young men of Albany town witnessed many a fight, amongst the more inebriated adult population. Gracie would have been appalled at her sons’ witnessing such goings-on of the older men brawling. But lads must live and learn, was Riley’s firm belief. He had always held that a young’uns gotta learn to throw a punch or two!

And now, it was his young’un in the fray. Riley had crouched behind a large crate that day, well hidden away, watching his boy Jared, and young Patrick Dillon come to blows, over, he guessed, some principle that Jared held to, that was in his eyes, t’ die for! My, it was some brawl. The two boys circled, watching each other for the slightest movement that might warn of the next blow. Now, there was a graze above Patrick’s eye and Jared spat blood, as his split lip swelled; and a few rowdy bystanders wore red, brown spittle blobs.

The milling onlookers’ bellowing, and swarming, naturally, added to the ruckus of the brawl and gravitated around whichever was their warring hero, and all dependent on which boy was their mate. In all, the spectators’ circling, made any escape from further blows impossible, should either brawler wish to take a fast withdrawal, as the way out. The fight waged on for a full seven minutes; and in the hail of blows, the two young fellows bashed at each other very successfully, with both bleeding rather well.

I’ll bash ya bloody teeth out, yer rotten scab of a Mick, bellowed Patrick Dillon. Ya keep away from me sister, ya hear me, ya rotter!

In the middle of the tirade, Patch (as Patrick was also known) swung a dazzling left upper cut, which caught Jared under his jaw and snapped his head sharply backwards. At that, a tall auburn-haired girl threw herself at the milling circle of boys and managed to break through, as Jared doubled over and fell. Some of the rabble broke into loud cheers grabbing Patch’s arm to proclaim him the winner. Well, at least, he, was still on his feet!

You disgustin’ little brat, Patrick Dillon, said the auburn-haired girl. What have ya done? Mary Dillon lifted Jared’s bleeding, dusty head from the dirt of the road and laid that head on her lap, to sob over and to comfort the defeated one; and, to mingle her tears with his grime and wounds.

Righto! a man shouted. Ya bunch of ratbags, make way and get yerselves out o’ ’ere, afore I gets Constable Corby onta ya! Dinny Steven’s voice had the effect of a scattergun as he waded through the dispersing mob, and there to find Mary Dillon mollycoddling the wounded Jared Ryan.

Begorrah, lad. Ya got ya self a beauty there, eh? A beautiful black shiner that be, boyo! Dinny added as he knelt alongside Mary and carefully checked the boy’s face and head. Any broke bones? He asked as he helped Jared to stand, with Mary giving much attention on the other side.

T’was just a lucky jab, Din, Jared said. I almost had the beggar! Jared was careful not to open his mouth too wide as he spoke, favouring his sore jaw.

"Now, that’s enough o’ that almost language in front of the lady, Jared boy!" Dinny declared. The lad came to his senses, as he took in Mary’s dusty self; and apologized for his bad language.

So, what was this lot about? Dinny demanded as Jared lowered his eyes to evade the questioning glare.

T’is me, Mr Dinny, Mary said, blushing prettily and spoke out as she turned toward the old man. "Jared and—well we’re t’gether ya see, an’ me brother hates Catholics, so he says that me an’ Jared aren’t to be friends no more, cos, well … I canna be marrying Jared Ryan, cos he’s a Mick."

"Well, young lass. That surely be a shame for them reasons, eh? We all bein’ God’s chillen an’ all! T’is no matter what brand we claims t’ be, eh? D’ ya think this brawlin’ has fixed ya brother’s problem, Mary, lass?"

T’is me ‘ll be fixin’ the little brat’s problem, I can tell ya that much, Mr Dinny, Mary said assuredly, as she and Dinny ushered Jared toward the back street.

C’mon, lad, back t’ my place t’ clean ya up before ya be needin’ t’ front up t’ yer Ma an’ Da.

Strange, Riley reminisced– ever since Jared and the Dillon boy had been caught up in that brawl; they’d been firm mates! No matter what troubles or triumphs; those two young fellows were as thick as thieves. What’s more, young Mary was still seen with Jared around the town social gatherings.

2

THE TREK—NORTH–

NORTH-EAST

R iley came out of his reverie, quite startled, and faced his present situation with Jared. Look here, lad? Are ya missin’ Patch not bein’ around, an’ this land venture be something to ease the time on yer hands?

No, Da! That’s no reason for me wantin’ t’ take up land. Patch is doin’ fine in Perth. We allus knew he was going t’ get the police training. He’ll be back when his trainings finished an’ we’ll catch up; me on me property, an’ him on his rounds. Da, you must have heard me and me brothers talking ’bout getting farming land– since as long as I can remember! Darby has his, an’ Sean’s just out from here. You an’ me, we just’ never got t’ talking together about it before, but it’s been my hope forever, Da.

Well, I surely missed that un, now, didn’t I? Riley said pensively. He considered his son’s request—good grazing land, a pastoral lease; a remote pastoral lease– and God knew how many miles east from their home, in this now well-established centre. Why so far distant, lad? Why not a holding closer to ya Ma and your brothers? So far away, lad! So far away!

But now, it was done– an eight-hundred-acre parcel, claimed, paid for, and owned by Jared James Ryan and his Da, Riley James Ryan, and signed this twenty-second day of October, in the year of our Lord, 1867.

Riley was there with his tearful Gracie; Sean, their eldest son, aged twenty-eight; and Darby, their second lad, a twenty-two-year-old. Mary Dillon, Patch’s sister, was also there to see Jared, her intended, on his way. The folks all stood at the gate to the family cottage watching the dust swirls trailing behind the wagons driven by Jared, just eighteen years old, and the youngest Ryan boy, sixteen-year-old Brennan. Jared and Bren drove their laden bullock wagons through the busy main street of Albany town. Many well-wishers called out to them as folk were aware of the younger Ryan brothers’ venture. The two wagons headed north and out over heavily wooded slopes. They followed a little-used track to a landholding on the outskirts of the town, where Daniel Kirby, a close mate of the Ryan brothers, waited.

Dan had expected the lads and the wagons to arrive when they did, as he knew Jared to be a stickler for being on time. Dan was twenty years old and had no kin in the colony. His parents had both died, when a karri tree, hit by lightning exploded and crashed to the earth. They just happened to be passing in their wagon when the gigantic tree dropped onto them. Daniel was a babe at the time and was being watched over by a friend while his parents went to town that day. After the tragedy, friends of Daniel’s parents thought that Dan would be returned to England, to family there. But family in England, finally sent a letter to the government officer, in the port of Albany, saying that they were too old to be encumbered with their son’s child.

It was an Irish family in the colony, opted to adopt the boy. The Kirby’s proved to be wonderful parents to young Daniel, and he was brought up with their two younger boys and three older girls. To say their goodbyes’ the girls were there with Daniel’s adoptive parents and the youngest son. There were hugs and kisses all round and the drays once again pulled out.

Daniel was a great drover and handled horses expertly and was skilled in moving large flocks of sheep or beef, on drives. Along with his two Kelpie dogs, Mia, and Spud, the trio formed a formidable droving team.

Jared had always intended to have Daniel accompany him and take care of the animals and stock on the property. The three young men had brought forty ewes and two rams and