The Sandalwood Cutter

By Jenny Kroonstuiver

Wally Murdoch, a sandalwood cutter, decides to abandon the camping life and move his small family to the remote town of Ora Banda. It is 1920 and the Western Australian sandalwood industry is growing rapidly to meet the demands of Chinese customers. As Wally and Hannah settle into the small community, they become embroiled in the political machinations which affect the sandalwood industry, water shortages which inhibit the town's expansion, the dominance of gold mining, and a growing pastoral industry.
Meanwhile, their family grows and they become part of a resilient and determined community seeking to survive the external forces which affect its very existence. As increasingly incomprehensible government policies seem destined to destroy a turbulent sandalwood industry, the government's unwillingness to address the ongoing water shortages threatens to prevent the growth of both the town and the mining industry.The Sandalwood Cutter brings to life the now abandoned town of Ora Banda, along with many of its memorable identities, as the Murdoch family navigate the turbulent times of the 1920s and early 1930s. It is a heartwarming snapshot of family, community, and a determination to survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Jan 24, 2024
• ISBN: 9781779416742

Jenny Kroonstuiver

Born in the 1950s, Jenny Kroonstuiver spent her childhood living on pastoral stations firstly in western Queensland and then on the Nullarbor Plain in Western Australia. She trained as a teacher and spent several years teaching in country areas of the Northern Territory and Queensland, before returning to Kalgoorlie in the 1980s. After a short-lived marriage, she raised her four children alone, continuing to work in the broader education sector. From 2004, she took up a role managing the national training system for the Australian meat industry, a role she held until her retirement in 2020. After publishing several family histories and biographies, this is her third novel in the series of the lost towns of the Eastern Goldfields of Western Australia.Other novels in the lost towns of the Eastern Goldfields series: The Memory Chest Nod to the Admiral

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Copyright © 2024 by Jenny Kroonstuiver

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Tellwell Talent

www.tellwell.ca

ISBN

978-1-77941-673-5 (Hardcover)

978-1-77941-672-8 (Paperback)

978-1-77941-674-2 (eBook)

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the courageous and hardworking sandalwood cutters who pioneered the first major export industry of Western Australia.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Historical notes

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Chapter 1

Wally Murdoch lay motionless within the thicket of sandalwood trees, eyes firmly fixed on the large grey buck not more than one hundred yards away. Gently, and as slowly as possible, he lifted the rifle to his shoulder and positioned his finger lightly onto the trigger. The kangaroo, as if sensing something was amiss, immediately stopped grazing and lifted its head, instantly alert to the slightest movement or noise. The two does, unaware of his concern, continued grazing, taking small steps forward as they found a new piece of delectable grass.

Wally lay perfectly still. He had to get this shot. It had been five days since the family had eaten meat, and the supply of potatoes was rapidly diminishing. He really needed to take meat back to camp today. His finger slowly tightened onto the trigger, ready to take a head shot.

Everything around him was totally silent. The crows, which had been so raucous until a few minutes beforehand, had fallen silent, as if they had chosen the role of spectators. The breeze had dropped, and the late-afternoon sun shimmered across the parched landscape. Even his horse, hitched to the dray on the other side of the thicket, was silent as it grazed.

His finger tightened more on the trigger.

Simultaneously, the loud shot echoed through the thicket and the crows took to the air with a loud, angry cacophony of protest as the big grey fell. The two does, belatedly aware of the danger, looked up and took flight, bounding effortlessly across the grassy flat.

Wally, fist-pumped into the air. Success! Tonight, they would eat well. He stood up, set the safety catch, brushed the grass and dirt from his trousers, and walked back to the horse, tossing the rifle onto the top of the stacked sandalwood logs. Grabbing the reins, he led the mare over to the fallen roo, taking the large knife from under the seat of the dray.

Half an hour later, he was on his way back to camp, the eviscerated, skinned and quartered animal tucked under hessian bags to keep the flies off. In the distance he could see the mulga ridge where his camp was located, a thin wisp of smoke from the campfire barely visible above the trees.

The dogs were first to hear him, setting up a raucous greeting of excited barking as they raced towards him and excitedly circled the dray, smelling the blood that promised a welcome feed of meat. Next were the children, climbing down from the trees where they had been exploring and now running towards him excitedly. The six donkeys, contained in a rough pen under the trees behind the tent, set up their loud braying, seeking to contribute as much noise as they could.

Oliver, Betsy, stay away from the wheels. Let your father come in without running you over! Hannah’s voice could be heard before he saw her. Seconds later she emerged from the tent and, straightening and brushing down her skirt over her heavily pregnant belly, she met his eyes, smiling.

You’re back early. I hope that means you got a roo. We need to eat today.

Yep, a big grey. Should be enough for a couple of days. We need to get it into the safe quickly, though, because the flies are everywhere today.

He jumped down and hitched the horse and dray to a nearby tree, beside the large wagon, already loaded with neat stacks of sandalwood logs.

Here, you kids. Oliver, you can take these over to the safe. Betsy, you can take the tail over to your Mum. He handed each child portions of the roo, carrying the huge legs himself, as they headed to the large safe hanging from the tree beside the tent. He threw the bonier shoulders and forelegs to the two dogs, who disappeared quickly to savour their treats. Carefully, he placed the meat into the safe, ensuring it was not blocking the air flow through the small holes on each side. Checking no flies had been trapped inside, he latched it shut.

It looks pretty heavy. Are you sure that branch will hold it? Oliver looked anxiously at the branch above. At ten years of age, he looked younger. With his thin, wiry body, matted hair, patched overalls that were too short for his skinny legs, and bare feet, he could easily have passed for a London urchin. That is, except for the tinge of red dust that permeated every crease of his skin and clothes.

Yes, it’s strong enough, Wally said, patting him on the shoulder. What have you been doing today?

I did some whittling on that stump you gave me. I wanted to make a kangaroo, but I can’t get it right. Betsy and I have been climbing those trees looking for birds’ nests. Mum made us do some writing, too.

Wally turned and looked at his daughter. At eight years old, Betsy was very like her brother, with the same ragged clothes and ever-present film of red dust. Even her wild brown hair, roughly tamed into two straight plaits by her mother, was matted and bore traces of the sticks and bark from the trees she had been climbing. Absently, he picked out pieces of twig as they walked back to the campfire. He bent down and pushed the log further into the fire as he spoke to Hannah.

The wind’s been shifting around to the south, so we should have a cool night. Hopefully that meat will last for a few days unless we get another hot spell.

If you can skin the tail now, I’ll put it straight into the pot and it can simmer there overnight. I’ve just enough spuds left, as well as a couple of turnips, to make a stew. Did you keep the skin?

Yes. I’ll scrape it down before we turn in and hang it over that tree to dry. It’s a good size, so we’ll be able to use it on the floor of the tent. Here you go. He handed her the skinned tail. You okay to chop that up?

Yes, I can manage. Oliver can stoke the fire and I’ll start cutting up one of those legs for dinner in a while. There’s not much water left, though. We’re going to need that trip into Ora Banda in the next couple of days. We need some stores as well, so I hope you’ve got plenty of sandalwood cut. I’m nearing my time too, so I’d like to check in with the midwife. Betsy, can you wash down those potatoes in that bowl, and then you can give the water to the dogs. Try to use as little water as possible. Don’t bother peeling, ’cause we need to use every bit of them. Just cut off the black bits and the eyes.

Wally headed back to the dray and started unhitching the brown mare, which was waiting patiently.

Oliver, can you take Bessie over to the pen with the donkeys and make sure she gets a drink? I want to get this wood loaded before it gets dark.

Deftly, he began transferring the sandalwood logs to the wagon, adding to the neat rows, which now reached well above the sides. It was a good load, he mused, sniffing the aromatic scent of the fragrant, newly cut wood. It should bring in enough for much-needed stores and a couple of barrels of water, and maybe even some new clothes for the kids. If they hadn’t got meat today, he would have gone to town tomorrow, but now they had the roo he could leave it a couple of days and add to the load. He loaded the stumps onto the pile at the back of the wagon, keeping aside a couple for the fire.

By the time he had finished, the sun was dropping rapidly into the west, heralding the momentary dusk before darkness fell. This was his favourite time of day. The birds were settling noisily into the nearby trees, and the heat of the day was rapidly vanishing as a cool breeze from the south strengthened, promising a pleasantly cool night ahead. He noted with approval that Betsy had taken a bundle of hay to the donkeys and the horse, without having to be asked.

Do you think that water will last for another two days? he asked his wife as he dropped the stumps beside the fire. I’ve got a good load, but I’d like to have at least another day of pulling before I take it in.

Hannah looked up from where she was chopping at the roo tail, preparing it for the large cast-iron pot that hung from a tripod over the fire. She was seated on a wooden stump, roughly hewn to make a stool, with a wooden tray across her rapidly diminishing lap. She looked tired and drawn, with shadows beneath her eyes, her cheeks hollow and her face gaunt. At twenty-eight, she looked years older, the harshness of the landscape etched into the fine cracks across her forehead.

Maybe enough for two days. That gives you one more day for pulling and then one day to travel into town. To be honest, I don’t think I can last much longer than that, anyways. I don’t really want to give birth on the wagon as we are heading to town. I don’t want anything to go wrong this time.

She rose awkwardly and lifted the lid from the pot, adding the last of the roo tail to the already bubbling potatoes and turnips. The spectre of the stillborn child from her previous pregnancy three years ago, fleetingly hung over them both. Hannah replaced the lid, holding it with the edge of her skirt, and then straightened, looking quizzically at the fire beneath.

Wally, can you please just pull that log a bit further away from the pot? I don’t want it boiling all night – it’s better if it just simmers along. If you can lift that griddle over onto the fire, it can start warming while I prepare the steaks. Oliver, can you bring one of those roo legs out of the safe now, please? Make sure there are no flies around before you close it, though it’s starting to get dark now, so they should be pretty much gone. Wally, you and the kids can wash up in the tub, but don’t give the water to the donkeys until I’ve finished cuttin’ up the meat and had a wash myself. It’s best you don’t use soap if we’re givin’ the water to the animals.

An hour later, bellies full from the welcome feed of kangaroo steaks, the four sat on stumps around the campfire, sipping mugs of hot, sweetened black tea. The first of the sandalwood stumps had been placed onto the fire, filling the air with the aromatic smoke, which also acted as a deterrent to the night insects. Wally had finished scraping down the kangaroo skin, and it hung over a branch to dry and for the ants to remove any remaining bits of flesh and sinew.

The patch of sandalwood I found today was a pretty mature patch and there were lots of nuts on the ground. I thought I might take Oliver out with me tomorrow to collect them. That distilling plant down in Belmont has started taking them, but I don’t think there are enough to send down there. They’ll be a good treat for us though.

What are they used for, Dad? asked Oliver.

You can eat them – they’re pretty good roasted. And the oil from them can be used to make a salve for burns and infections, and things like that. I once saw an Aboriginal woman chew them up to make a paste, which she then placed onto the arm of a child who had been burned.

Yuk! said Betsy in horror.

Wally smiled. You can say that, but it worked. That burn was healed within a couple of days. Some of those bush medicines the Aborigines use are amazing.

Where did you see that, Dad? asked Oliver, curious.

When I was prospecting up near Wiluna, before I met your mum. I used to come across groups of Aborigines quite often, and I’d exchange a bit of flour and sugar for kangaroo meat. They showed me a few of their bush foods.

Can we roast some nuts tomorrow night? asked Betsy.

Hannah smiled. Yes, but only if you peel them first! It’s just about time for you kids to head for bed. Oliver, can you make sure that extra wood is pulled well away from the fire? You can leave that mulga stump, because I’ll put that under the stew overnight. It’ll burn nice and slowly, so the stew will be ready for breakfast.

Mum, can Dad tell us a story first? Please?

Hannah looked up at Wally, who nodded imperceptibly. Yes, all right then, but not too long.

Chapter 2

The following day, after a nourishing breakfast of the kangaroo-tail stew, which had been simmering all night, Wally and Oliver left not long after dawn for the patch of sandalwood Wally had been working the previous day. A deep-pink sunrise welcomed the day with streaks across the sky, and flocks of pink-and-grey galahs flew noisily overhead as they drew closer to the ticket. The air was still crisp and cool. Wally loved the early mornings and whistled tunelessly as he steered Bessie towards their destination. In the distance he could see several crows busily feasting on the remains of the kangaroo carcass from the previous day.

The grey, gnarly trunks of the sandalwood trees looked dark and mysterious in the still half-light, and the fleshy leaves formed a canopy over the ground made soft by sleeping kangaroos. Sprinkled among them were the wattle trees, which were the hosts for the parasitic sandalwood trees. To Oliver it all looked a bit dark and mysterious, and a couple of startled rabbits took off through the undergrowth as they arrived.

These are pretty old trees, son, Wally told Oliver. They take about ten years to grow to this height, and they usually don’t produce fruit until they are at least five years old. Some of these are over ten foot high, which is as tall as I’ve ever seen them, so I reckon they are much older even than ten years. See all those smaller trees growing underneath? That means they’ve had seeds which have germinated, so they have been here a long time.

Where did you take the wood from yesterday, Dad? asked Oliver.

From around the other side. I’ll take some from this side today, but I don’t want to take too much, because this is such an old patch. It’s home to a lot of animals and birds as well, so I don’t want them to completely lose their home.

Do I get the nuts from off the ground or from on the trees?

If you grab that billy can, you can start by getting them off the ground. These trees have only recently begun dropping the nuts so they are all still quite fresh. If there’s not enough you can get them off the tree as well, but make sure they are that golden-brown colour.

How do the seeds get planted, Dad? Oliver asked, curious.

There’s a little animal, sort of a cross between a rat and a kangaroo, called a woylie, which buries the seeds. They only come out at night, and I’ve only ever seen one or two, but the Aborigines up north showed me where some of the nuts had been buried. When the kangaroos dig their patches to sleep in under the trees, they tend to cover up the nuts too. Right, off you go and start collecting. Keep an eye out for snakes. I’m only going to fell and clean a few trees today, and I’m not going to pull the stumps. We need to get back early to start pulling up camp so we can leave first thing tomorrow.

Several hours later, Oliver had filled three cans with nuts and Wally had felled and stripped several trees. They stopped for a drink from the water bag and to eat a piece of the damper that Hannah had wrapped in muslin cloth for them.

Did you try eating any of the fruits? asked Wally.

Not yet. I thought it had to be cooked.

No, you can eat them fresh. Here, let me show you. You can peel off this outer flesh and eat it. You can eat the nut fresh too, though I like them better roasted. Give it a try.

Oliver chewed slowly, savouring the soft fruit.

It’s a bit bitter, but I like it. I like the nut too. It tastes kind of smooth. Do people buy the nuts?

Like I said yesterday, that processing plant down in Belmont has started taking them to crush for oil. They can get oil from the roots and butts as well. I don’t really think we have enough nuts to send down, so these can be a special treat for us tonight, and we might take some in for the storekeeper at Ora Banda if there are enough left. You can have some more if you like. I’ve been chewing on them while I’ve been chopping.

Where does all the wood go, Dad?

On ships to a place called China. It’s a big country overseas. They use the wood to make incense sticks that they burn as part of their religion. But they also use the oil to make things like soap and lotions. Your Mum makes soap out of it sometimes, that’s if she can get the right oils from the store.

Do they do carving in China too?

Not so much as in India. That’s another country which uses a lot of sandalwood, although they mostly have their own trees. They do lots of carving in sandalwood. It’s a nice soft wood, so it’s quite easy to carve. That reminds me; you didn’t show me your kangaroo yesterday. Did you get it finished?

No, I can’t get the head right. Do you think we might see some roos today? I want to have another look and try to see what I’m doing wrong.

Maybe.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, chewing slowly, as Wally thought about Oliver’s carvings. He’d started whittling when Wally had given him an old pocketknife two years beforehand and he had shown a rare talent for producing native animals and birds. Many of Oliver’s earlier efforts had been destined for the campfire, but gradually, as he practised, he was able to capture some of the finer features such as feathers and ears. Hannah had set aside a pair of the galahs he had recently carved, to show to the storekeeper at Ora Banda, in the hope she might take them in exchange for some stores.

Right, come on, let’s get this done. Can you start throwing some of those smaller pieces onto the dray, and I’ll finish off cleaning those last few logs.

Towards mid-afternoon, the dray fully loaded, they set off for the campsite. Wally whistled as they went, thinking ahead about going to Ora Banda. It had been two months since their last visit, just after Christmas, and at that time there had been a furore over an Italian woodcutter who had got bushed on his way back to camp. He’d left town with a dozen bottles of beer, and when he finally turned up at camp, he’d only drunk the one and was desperate for water, poor fellow.

Wally had got a good price for his sandalwood on that trip, nearly £17 a ton. In fact, prices had held at around that for most of 1919. But there had been rumours of changes in government policy after a report from Geoffrey Drake-Brockman the previous year. An engineer, Drake-Brockman had been employed by the Forest Department after allegations of ‘frenzied cutting’ of sandalwood led to fears that supplies closer to Perth were being decimated. His report had suggested that sandalwood could be grown in plantations and some trial cultivations had already begun nearer to Perth.

Meanwhile, the industry was booming in the Goldfields. Wherever there was a railway, there were sandalwood cutters, and nearly every prospector Wally knew from this area was cutting sandalwood to supplement their income. There seemed to be a large number of returned soldiers cutting as well. As a result, the supplies of wood closer to the railway lines had already been decimated.

Wally had begun cutting sandalwood as a young man. Never a successful prospector, his time at Wiluna had opened his eyes to the possibilities offered by harvesting sandalwood. He had spent his time learning as much as he could about the trees, including from the local Aborigines, and he had developed a knowledge and understanding of the scrawny trees that had served him well in the years since then. By the time he had acquired a wagon and basic tools, he had decided to move further south, having heard of the bounty around the new mining towns of Ora Banda and its neighbouring town of Broad Arrow, where the railway had recently been opened.

He had met Hannah Martin at Broad Arrow, where she had been working as a barmaid. Originally from East Wellow in Hampshire, she had come to Western Australia with her family in the late 1880s. After a short stint of unsuccessful farming near York, not far from Perth, her unsettled father had decided to try his luck on the Coolgardie Goldfields and the family found themselves living in tents, with a hand-to-mouth existence. Eventually her mother had put her foot down and demanded a change, and now she was managing a boarding house in Coolgardie. Her mother was happier with a lifestyle that involved a comfortable bed and a regular income, but her father was still prospecting, mostly unsuccessfully, and in the rare times he was in town he could be found spending whatever he had earned in the local pub. Extended drinking binges led to violent arguments at home, and Hannah had made her escape as soon as she was able, heading north to the new mining towns, which promised employment opportunities. Her two brothers, older than Hannah, had also made their escape, both returning to farming life near Perth.

Wally had never met Hannah’s parents, whom she rarely mentioned. He strongly suspected that her father’s tendency to drunken violence had included Hannah, so he had decided early on not to pry any further.

Hannah had immediately sensed reliability in the young sandalwood cutter, who had appeared at the front bar in the Broad Arrow pub just over ten years ago. She overheard him knowledgeably asking about opportunities for pulling sandalwood in the local area and could see that he was shrewdly evaluating the answers he was given. She also noticed he listened more than he talked, drinking very little, and nodding in agreement as the old prospectors told elaborate, unguarded stories of their finds and successes.

By the time Wally was ready to head into the bush to try his luck, his eye had fallen on the comely barmaid, who managed the bar and lewd approaches of the patrons with smiling efficiency, and eventually he plucked up courage to approach her. Three weeks later they were married by the travelling Anglican minister and were headed into the bush with a heavily loaded wagon.

Wally had quickly become a successful sandalwood puller, but more than anything Hannah admired his respect for the bush and its animals. Unlike many of the other pullers, he refused to completely denude patches of sandalwood, and always ensured there were young trees nearby to replace those he took. She never ceased to be amazed by his knowledge of the animals and their habits, and she quickly grew to appreciate and share his love of the parched red countryside of the Goldfields.

In the early days they had worked side by side, Hannah stripping the bark as Wally felled and trimmed the trees. But once Oliver had been born, and then Betsy not long after that, she found it easier to remain in camp with the children. She still stripped most of the bark, but now it was mostly done at camp. Hannah, under the tutelage of Wally, learned how to keep the camp scrupulously clean and organised, burying waste and managing the life-giving campfire and scarce water supplies. In the early days she had been fearful of the regularly appearing snakes, goannas and spiders, but once again Wally had shown her how to avoid putting herself in danger and to encourage the beasts to move off. Only twice had a snake unexpectedly found its way into their tent, angrily finding itself cornered, and then Wally had deftly killed it.

Wally knew this was a hard life for Hannah, but she never complained. Even when their third baby was stillborn, just over three years ago, she had unhesitatingly returned to camp. But now, with a new baby about to be born, he felt that perhaps it was time to think again about their nomadic lifestyle.

Wally’s main concern was the fact the children were not attending school. He and Hannah had taught them as much as they could, but their own education had been rudimentary at best, and neither of them really had the skills to teach their children to read and write. As his own world became more and more controlled by permits and laws, he knew these were skills his children really needed, and he was going to have to do something about their schooling before it was too late.

If he could get a good price for this current load, he wanted to put it to Hannah that perhaps she could live in a town while he continued to pull sandalwood on his own. He would try to come to town more often, and the children could go to school. To him it seemed like a good plan, but as yet he hadn’t been quite sure how he was going to broach it with Hannah. He knew instinctively she would find a thousand reasons not to be in town, preferring the camp life with their family unit. He could only hope that a new baby might make her re-think the situation.

Ora Banda seemed a good choice. Although Kookynie was closer to where he was currently pulling, it didn’t really seem to be thriving these days. He had sold his last few loads to the storekeeper at Ora Banda, a woman who seemed a fair operator. The little town had a nice feel to it, with a school, a few essential shops and a pub, and consistent rumours of good gold finds in the area meant it was slowly increasing in population. Its one problem was the lack of a consistent water supply, as it relied on dams as well as falls of rain to fill the water tanks attached to each of the buildings. Yes, perhaps he could persuade Hannah to consider living in the town, at least for a few months.

Now, as he and Oliver pulled into camp, he could see Hannah was already well underway with preparations for their trip. The empty water barrels were already in the front of the wagon, along with the meat safe. He could see the dogs enjoying a feed of the remaining kangaroo and knew that the stew pot would have been topped up for their own dinner. The harnesses for the donkeys had been checked and oiled, and hung over a branch ready for the morning, and the few belongings they would not need overnight were rolled up and placed in front of the water barrels to secure them. Wally smiled, recognising that Hannah was probably looking forward to a trip to town, not least because of the coming baby.

Chapter 3

The following morning, while Wally harnessed the donkeys to the wagon and Bessie to the dray, Hannah and the children expertly dismantled the tent, rolled up their bedding and loaded the remaining items into the back of the dray. Dirt was shovelled over the campfire, the donkeys’ pen dismantled, and any remaining waste was buried. Within an hour, they were underway, once again enjoying the coolness of the early morning breeze.

The first few hours were spent weaving their way slowly in a north-westerly direction, heading for the track between Kookynie and Ora Banda. There being no road, they chose their route carefully, looking for the open flats and then avoiding the occasional rabbit burrow, where the loaded wagon could so easily become dry-bogged. Hannah and Betsy led them on the dray, with Betsy’s high-pitched singing competing with the crows and galahs that flew overhead. Wally and Oliver followed on the slower-moving wagon, laden with weeks of sandalwood harvest, with Wally calling the occasional words of encouragement to the recalcitrant donkeys. The two dogs perched alongside the empty water barrels, happily barking at anything that moved and earning a surly sit down from Wally.

How come we have donkeys and not camels, Dad? asked Oliver.

I know some of the cutters have camels, son, but they are very difficult to contain and are also hard to manage when we get nearer town. I got this string of donkeys from an old cutter who was leaving the area when I first came through Broad Arrow, and they have served me well. They are pretty docile creatures, and much easier to manage than camels.

Next minute, Betsy turned, clambering onto the seat on her knees, and called back to them.

Dad, Mum said how long until we get to the road, and should we stop for a break first?

Yes, we probably should stop for a break. We’re only a couple of miles from the road, so let’s stop up near that patch of trees over there so we can get some shade and give the animals a drink. Ask Mum if there is any damper left, and sit down properly, Betsy, before you fall off.

They stopped under a large gum tree standing alone in a patch of mulga, and gladly stretched their legs, with Hannah quickly heading to the bushes for a toilet break while Betsy opened the bag containing the damper.

Oh, I was bursting, Hannah said and smiled as she returned, flattening her skirts back into place. Please don’t make me wait that long again! I’m sure this baby is pressing right against my bladder. Did you leave me a piece of damper?

Wally handed her the last piece, along with a drink of water. We’re making good time. Fortunately, it’s not too hot, so the animals are travelling well. We should be in Ora Banda by late afternoon. How are you travelling?

Not too badly, though nowhere is really comfortable these days. I’ll be glad of a real bed tonight, and maybe a meal at the pub. Give me another ten minutes before we go again, so I can have a good stretch. Oliver, are the donkeys all okay?

Yes, Mum. Did you see the wedge-tailed eagle over the other side of those trees? I think it must have caught a rabbit or something. I saw it carry it off.

Where? Show me? cried Betsy.

It’s gone now. But keep your eyes open because there are a few around. You might see some more.

They spent the next few minutes checking the harnesses and the load, finishing their drinks and comfort stops, and stretching tired muscles. It was one of those perfect days, with a mild breeze, not too hot, and abundant wildlife. Finally, Wally stood and brushed the twigs from his trousers.

Okay. Let’s get moving. Oliver, hold the horse while I give your Mum a hand up onto the dray.

The convoy continued slowly, making good time as they crossed a dry salt lake, the wagon wheels breaking the thin rust at the top and leaving furrows behind them, and then slowing once again as they moved into denser patches of saltbush and bluebush. About an hour later, they came to the rough track that lay between Kookynie and Ora Banda, and turned towards the west.

We should move a lot quicker now, Wally called to Hannah. But don’t push Bessie too hard. We’ll stop for another break in a couple of hours.

There’s been a lot of traffic on this road, Dad. There aren’t many bushes at all, observed Oliver.

Kookynie used to be a very big town, mate, with over three thousand people. It had trains as well as a daily stagecoach, so this became a well-used road. The town hasn’t really recovered since the war, but it’s still bigger than Ora Banda. One of its main benefits is that it has a good underground water supply, whereas Ora Banda has to rely on its dam – and that seems to go nearly dry every summer. There’re rumours that the Coz mine is likely to close over the next couple of years, though, and that will be a big shock to Kookynie.

They travelled on in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.

Where will we be staying in Ora Banda, Dad?

We’ll take a bed at the hotel for tonight. That way we can all have a bath and a good meal. Your Mum needs a bit of comfort. I’m going to see if there are any empty houses we can rent for a couple of weeks, at least until after the baby is born and I’ve sold all the wood. You and Betsy might even be able to go to school for a bit. Would you like that?

No. I don’t know anyone. Do I have to go?

Well, let’s wait and see. You won’t really know if you’ll like it unless you try. What’s wrong with that donkey? Is she limping? He raised his voice to call to the dray in front. Hold up a minute Hannah, I just want to check one of the donkeys.

He pulled the team to a stop, dismounting quickly, and walked over to one of the middle donkeys, lifting each leg in turn and feeling to see what was wrong. He examined the hoof on the leg the animal seemed to be favouring.

It looks as if she’s collected a stone. Give me a few minutes. Deftly, he took his pocketknife and loosened the stone and then carefully removed it.

It wasn’t too deep, so she should be all right. We’ve been making good time since we hit the road, so we should be there in a couple of hours. Let’s have a quick break before we start moving again.

It was another hour before they came across another vehicle, a heavily laden wagon heading towards Kookynie, evidently towards a mine site. Wally drew his wagon to a halt alongside the other wagon, raising his hat briefly to the two men.

Afternoon, gents. Where’re you heading?

Up towards Linden. There’ve been a couple of reasonable finds there. You look as if you’ve got a good load. On your way to Ora Banda?

Yes. My wife has a baby due, so I’m hoping to be there for a couple of weeks. Do you know if there are any houses available?

Not sure, mate. We’ve been staying at the pub. You know Frank Storman’s left town?

No! He’s been there for years. Where has he gone?

Down to Dowerin to take up the management of the Dowerin Hotel. They had a big smoke social for him a few weeks back. Charlie Smith from the government Battery is away as well, and they’ve got some fellow called Joll relieving. Not that that should worry you too much. Sandalwood’s been bringing in a good price over the past few weeks, though, so your timing’s good. There’s hardly any left around the town at all. Even the kids have been pushing barrows out to collect whatever they can. The price has started to drop a bit now, though. Who do you sell to?

He waved his hat across his face to brush the flies away and looked to his younger mate for confirmation. The other fellow merely nodded and continued chewing tobacco, spitting noisily over the side of the