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    The Way
    The Way
    The Way
    Ebook301 pages4 hours

    The Way

    By Anthony Van

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    About this ebook

    Yes, girl trouble was one reason why Josh fled the city. And for some time the seclusion of station life insulated him from confronting the questions of faith and his aggravation with believers. To then encounter a winsome neighbour, be thrust into being a guide for tour groups on an outback station and manage an all-female station in a short span of time, collapsed his bitter self-exile. As a sense of purpose and meaning re-entered his life, Josh was, without warning, arrested for murder. The bizarre twist was that he didn’t know whether he had committed the crime. Perhaps Inspector Adrian Burton, still on holiday, could expose the awful truth.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAnthony Van
    Release dateJan 17, 2021
    The Way
    Author

    Anthony Van

    What does a retired teacher do? Especially a teacher with a hyperactive imagination and ingrained work habits. Well this one writes. And being a Christian, each novel I have written necessarily is pieced together from a Christian perspective.I have a broad range of interests which include science and technology, mathematics, travel, sports and the interrelationship of people. Much of what intrigues me about people is that some pursue truth with the determination of a bloodhound while others almost ignore existential ideas and while away their short time spent on earth being distracted by people or pleasures or possessions or power.Writing is a hobby. It allows me to research and self educate, and it also permits me to refine my perspectives of concepts existential and theological.

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      Book preview

      The Way - Anthony Van

      The Way

      Published by Anthony Van at Smashwords

      Copyright Anthony Van 2020

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favourite authorised retailer. Thank you for your support.

      Chapter 1

      Are you ready? Mick shouted as a dust devil blustered past him.

      Give me a minute. Josh checked once more the linkages on the horse float. He hoisted a second twenty-five litre plastic drum of water into the back of the pickup truck. He walked around and patted his big horse’s rump. Not for the first time he admired him. The animal was larger than the common quarter horse and whaler cross breeds that more recently were labelled as Australian stock horses. He got stick from other stockmen who said his beast was too unwieldy for the job. They jibed that he was too pretty and too showy for a work horse. It didn’t faze Josh. The horse’s mish-mash of bloodlines, which he suspected had a fair portion of thoroughbred, gave him stature and speed at a slight cost to manoeuvrability.

      Good boy… he added with another pat. He was acknowledging the quiet patience his horse, Pal, exhibited. It wasn’t unusual. It was his nature.

      Hurry up! shouted the station manager. He was irate as usual. This time he had cause to sound impatient. A storm cell from the late arriving wet had unleashed multiple lightning strikes in the south western corner of the property, probably thirty-five kilometres away. Wisps of smoke had signalled the dire situation they were in. Many of the cattle were in that quarter having been drawn by a leaky bore which provided some feed in the treacherous drought. They were at risk.

      Mick was clambering into the helicopter. He’d had enough waiting. Should the cattle be trapped, that would be another nail in the coffin for their jobs. Little had gone right recently for the cattle station owned by the Gower brothers. As it was, they were hanging by a financial thread. Even the loss of the little feed they had might be an insurmountable obstacle to surviving. Josh jumped into the truck and started it as Mick’s machine coughed into life and the rotors of the chopper began to spin. He knew the business was poorly run; but after five years on the place he was still considered a novice and no one took notice of his suggestions. He had said they should have destocked at the start of the year when the previous monsoon failed to deliver. Now, with weak, poor conditioned animals they ran the risk of losing them in the almost inevitable deluge that follows a drought.

      He accelerated slowly, conscious of the discomfort he could cause Pal if he drove carelessly. He was soon out the main homestead gate and then headed west to the boundary track that went along the western perimeter fence. It would be a half hour drive. By that time, he hoped Mick would have located the main southern herd and begun pushing them out of the path of any fires. In the distance he still saw the roiling storm cell and the haze of gathering smoke underneath.

      As the pickup rumbled closer to the corner of Gower Station the heavy air was redolent with the stuffy, smoky smell of burnt spinifex. A haze of blue, brown, grey pungent clouds burgeoned with the gusting winds. Visibility diminished as he neared the trailing seep of the bore. It was the one place safe from the spreading fire front that was about a kilometre to the south and heading north east. Pulling in against the western fence his brow furrowed at the wild fire that was eating the precious little remaining feed. Josh tumbled out of the vehicle and wrapped his large neckerchief over his mouth and nose, dousing it with some water from a plastic bottle.

      He went to the horse float and spoke gently to his horse who was snickering nervously.

      It’s okay Pal…settle…come on settle now, settle. He rubbed its flank. Fearful for the herd, Josh quickly saddled Pal and eased him out behind the float. His radio crackled. It was Mick. The manager reported that he caught a glimpse of the cattle being driven ahead of the smoke. He was fearful that they would flee right into the path of the blaze.

      I tried to drive them a couple of times and head them towards you but I couldn’t see anything in all that smoke…It’s too dangerous…We’ll just have to hope for the best…

      Josh asked him where exactly he saw them.

      Near the granite knoll…You won’t be able to do anything…Come back to the homestead before you get caught up in it yourself.

      He was giving up, thought Josh. There were more than two thousand head of cattle at risk. Maybe he could divert some back to the west side. If he could turn the leading elements of the herd, he had a chance that others would follow.

      I’ll try and drive some toward the west…I’ve got to try, he returned on his radio.

      You’re crazy…if you get caught in a stampede, you’ll get yourself killed.

      I’ve got to give it a go, he insisted, and then he ended the conversation.

      Ensuring he had water bottles in his saddle bags and his long leather whip attached to a loop on his moleskins, Josh mounted Pal and reined him to head south of the rocky bluff Mick had referenced. He geed his mount to a gallop in the hope that he could head off the leading cattle. The way was not unfamiliar to him and even riding though the gathering pall he found the broad sandy ribbon of one of the many washes found in channel country.

      After about ten minutes he eased to a canter and rounded the rocky outcrop. The smoke was thicker here, more acrid and gusts had scattered surges of mulga embers. The rumble of hooves and moaning and bellowing cattle warned of the approaching panicked retreat. The choking murkiness prevented Josh from determining where the main phalanx of animals was. Taking the whip in his right hand and using knees and heels to guide Pal in the direction he had gambled on to intercept the herd, Josh kept muttering, We’ve got this, we’ve got this.

      Louder and louder the animals sounded as Josh readied himself to coerce the main body to the western side of the steep knoll. He knew that once heading west the air would become clearer and the column of animals might be more easily steered to the safety of the bore corner. Echoes of balling and bellowing bovines reflected off the low cliffs behind him and almost reached a crescendo before they emerged from the gloom. Josh screamed a loud Yah! His long whip uncoiled above his head before snapping back and releasing an ear shattering crack. More shouts and several repeated whip cracks in succession and still the trotting horde advance straight toward the man and his horse.

      After a split-second hesitation where Josh had to decide whether to make a stand or run for it, he did neither. Instead he urged Pal forward as he yelled and brandished his lashing stockwhip unleashing a fusillade of loud reports. Straight toward a large lead steer he charged and reared his steed in its path. He screamed and lashed his whip as momentarily it seemed as if horse and rider would be overrun. At the last instant the cattle veered left and bolted to the west of the solitary geological feature in the area.

      At first Josh advance down the left edge of the careering herd. It meant they diverted earlier to follow the vanguard. Then, recklessly riding back and over the rough slope of the sharp rise, and keeping to the north of the stream of lumbering cattle, Josh maintained his raucous coaxing, nudging the herd further and further west. The smoke thinned but the smothering dust from the running hooves caught up in the wind and blew right in his face. By the time he neared the boundary fence Josh and Pal had pushed left and moved the herd toward the south. Once out of the smoke, the smell of the bore water and the green verges of the soak drew the cattle like a magnet.

      Watching warily, Josh sat high in the saddle for many minutes as hundreds and hundreds of the stricken creatures mindlessly followed the most fearful to the beckoning refuge from the consuming blaze. It was hard to tell how much time the fleeing livestock would have before the racing fire front cut off the escape route. He watched and waited, squinting through the churning dust. His thoughts went to the personal crisis which had propelled his life along this unexpected detour.

      Six years ago he had completed his articles with a prestigious law firm, Angus and Blunt, and had mapped out a prosperous professional career. His personal life of socialising after years of study was only starting but looked promising. His occasional religious affiliations had brought him into the company of Bianca. She was a teacher and a striking looking young woman. Her silky long blonde hair drew admiring looks when the untrammelled tresses, released from the daytime work mode ponytail, hung like a straight thick curtain halfway down her back.

      The memory still gnawed him in a deep hidden recess of his psyche. She had been so righteous, so proper; they had to have a spiritual basis for a lasting relationship. And then, one day, she ended it. She had met someone else. It was meant to be, she proclaimed. And now, even though he told himself he was over her, inside, like a cancer, it ate away at him. Bitterness and resentment had poisoned his soul. The weak faith that he had shrivelled like seed on rocky ground; or perhaps more like plants choked by the weeds and thistles. He was now hostile to the notion of ‘Christian’ morality. It was a farce, a front by which people palliated their own convicted consciences, yet they pleased themselves when it was convenient.

      It had driven him to this outback extremity. By its seclusion his isolation became a buffer from the real world. Josh had become numbed by the remoteness so that all there was for him was work, the solitude of boundary riding, and the company of his horse. In fact, he spoke to Pal more often than he spoke with others of his species. There was comfort in the quiet acquiescence of the large palomino; and there was a close warmth in the way the horse nuzzled him for attention when his mind fled back into regret. He was jolted back to the present. On cue the horse’s whinny had shaken him from his musings.

      Only stragglers were now joining the near thousand head that were congregating around the troughs and pools of bore water.

      Looks like we lost almost half of the south paddock stock, boy, he stated. There was a moment’s interlude from the relentless wind. He tracked the progress of the clouds of smoke. They’re cut off by the knoll now…nothing we can do.

      He watched the cattle gnaw at the little feed there was in that corner allotment. They would now have to use the last of the hay bales to keep them alive. Mick would have to convince the Gower brothers to buy more or they would lose the remainder of what had been tens of thousands in the good years. The other problem would be the condition of their boundary fence. If it had been compromised then the animals might begin to wander off the property in search of feed.

      He wheeled Pal around to ride back the few hundred metres to where he parked the truck. It would be important to relay the status of the herd and what needed to be done. They would need to hire some more contract stockmen to check and repair fencing and help with the feed. It was a cost the station could ill afford. Having only recently laid off the last of the local workers in an effort to keep afloat, Josh guessed this might be the death knell for the Gower property. Maybe if they sold all the stock now, they could last till the rains finally arrive and then restock. To his mind, though, they had left it too late. Two months ago they would have been paid considerably more for each animal. Then, they had a lot more of them in better condition.

      Dismounting, he removed the saddle and tack as Pal drank from a tin dish he provided. Once more, the horse nickered and this time it swung its head around and looked north. Josh followed his lead. From the north end of the steep geologic feature another column of cattle was bearing down on them. It was an unexpected bonus. It seemed many of the fleeing creatures had been confined to the walls of the knoll by the raging flames and immediately bore left at the first opportunity when the small elongated crag sloped down steadily toward the north. Josh watched, after securing Pal in the float, as several hundred more head made their way to the relative sanctuary of land that was now behind the fire front. It must have been natural for them to turn away from the pungent ash and fumes into clearer air and then somehow hear or smell the main mob.

      ***

      It was an eerie drive back to the homestead. The wall of smoke ever growing and darkening the sky told of the incineration of the sparse remaining pastures, the blackening of a dun coloured land. Mick was sitting on the porch with a beer in his hand as Josh pulled up. Ed, a young jackaroo, came up and offered to put Pal in the stable with water and feed. The youth had an appreciation for the big horse and Josh was happy to hand Pal over to his care. He aimed to update Mick on the situation and the need to get the remaining bales down to the herd. As he approached, he saw the manager standing transfixed by the carbon filled cumulus cloud of smoke mushrooming high into the sky.

      What have you been doing? The tone was almost accusatory.

      Trying to get stock down to the bore corner.

      Waste of effort…I flew over the northern mob…still a couple of thousand, but if we don’t get them to market soon, we’ll be paying someone to bury them.

      You talk to the Gowers?

      Yeah…Frank said he wants them all up the top paddock…they’ll truck them to the saleyards in the next week…They’re completely destocking.

      Josh remained motionless. He said nothing about poor management or missing their opportunity.

      If we don’t get hay down to the southern mob, they won’t make it that far…He hasn’t given us much warning.

      I think we just feed the herd up here…give them a bit of condition…we can’t afford to bother about any that survive the fire.

      There are at least fifteen hundred that escaped the flames…they’re all huddling around the bore seep."

      Mick’s expression displayed his surprise. Instead of saying well done or asking how he achieved the startling outcome, he merely pursed his mouth and remarked, Fifteen hundred…well that just adds to the problem.

      We can’t let them die…not like that.

      We can’t spare the feed…not for a lost cause.

      Josh knew Mick was on some incentive scheme where he got a small percentage of the sales. He was going to maximise his share. If he could improve the stock up north sufficiently, they might compare favourably with others in the region suffering similar scarcity, and then he might get nearer to a premium price. For him it wasn’t worth the gamble to bring nearly twice as many half dead animals to the market. A rumble in the distance spoke of another storm cell building. Maybe the wet was about to break.

      Josh strode off to his room in the billets. Tomorrow he would see what he could do. Perhaps the stubble along the western fence line would be enough to keep them alive for the saleyards. He would rather they die with him attempting to save them than just let them perish slowly skirmishing over every blade of grass. He didn’t care what Mick said. Neither of them would have a job once the assets were liquidated.

      ***

      Early the next morning, Josh set off on Pal. He had saddle bags with two days’ supply of food and water for himself. He made sure he also packed two three litre plastic water bottles in case Pal needed a drink before getting to the halfway troughs or the bore. The horse was watered and fed before they left so it would be the drawn-out cattle droving on the way back that would test Pal’s stamina.

      It was a ridiculous venture. He was about to drive weak, hungry stock along the barren verge of unburnt land in an effort to save some. And those he saved may well be rejected by Mick for the saleyards because of the unlikelihood of getting a return on the transport costs. As he rode, the eastern sky lightened revealing the looming bank of cloud coming from the northeast. ‘One more obstacle,’ he thought. The monsoon coming too late to do any good. If it broke today it would make his task that much more difficult.

      Survival, that’s what it was about. As he rode at a slow trot his mind went to his new adopted creed. Bianca had indirectly convinced him that faith was a myth. To him it was hypocrisy. People claimed there was a way, the way, yet when it came to the crunch they opted for personal gain. They looked after themselves. It was survival. She had done what suited her. He had been hurt. He ached within. It had been so consuming at the time, he couldn’t function. The law firm didn’t grant him unpaid leave. They did what suited them; and he did what suited him. He quit. Now there was the land, the stock, his horse and him, and life was what it was. He would be hard-nosed and make sure he did what he had to do to survive.

      He examined the motivations of those who claimed a higher order. Mostly, it suited them. It gave them a living. It provided them a status as purveyors of some sort of moral imperative. Those who followed—who were acolytes to religion—gained self-satisfaction and it gave them an exemption from dealing with the conundrum of their own existence. It was itself a mode of survival. His mind cast back further to his own dysfunctional family. Both parents readily parting when he and his brother Caleb had finished their secondary schooling. Both had sought their own pathways and charged that as adults the two sons should accept the reality. If it hadn’t been for Bianca at university, he doubted whether he would have remained sane. And then she abandoned him. Maybe everything was genetically inherited and she had recognised the disloyalty of his parents in him. Maybe he was bad stock whose bloodline had to end.

      It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Isn’t that what Queen sang? He would make a living and survive. Perhaps along the way there would be some thrills, some pleasures and indulgences and he would feel human again. At present he was an organism in survival mode fighting off the self-awareness, the questioning and the reckoning that pertained to his humanity. He couldn’t divorce himself from the lingering basic principles that echoed in his thoughts. It was what had caused him to choose law as a profession—the concept that justice existed and should be pursued. Josh lost track of time as he fixated on the unfairness of life. It was paradoxical that he didn’t see the contradiction of expecting fairness while claiming no ‘higher order’ existed.

      His ruminations were interrupted by the abrupt halt of his mount. Suddenly aware, he scanned around.

      What is it boy?

      At the instant he spoke, a movement to his left drew his attention. A brown snake slithered away into a scrubby shrub. Josh patted Pal’s neck. Good boy, he affirmed. Then looking around he realised the troughs fed by a windmill pumping slightly brackish water was close. His mind cleared and he rebuked himself to let go of this irreconcilable disconnect between a philosophy founded on his bitterness and the inner grasping for the values that were so often absent. It wouldn’t be easy. This resentment of his was becoming a much-pampered pet.

      Chapter 2

      Pal drank the slightly saline water from the trough and nibbled some grass that clearly indicated origins of the slow leaks. Josh drank from a water bottle and began questioning his sanity. What chance did he have of rescuing the herd? How could he drive so many weak beasts the thirty odd kilometres to the homestead? And to what end? Mick said they wouldn’t be worth transporting to the market.

      A slow wag of his head betrayed his dilemma. He would be unemployed soon anyway, he reasoned. Might as well do something that appeared noble, if impracticable; at least make an attempt. Even as the notion occurred to him, he knew it was in sharp contradiction with his premise that nothing was good or moral or noble of itself. He couldn’t argue for the utility of his actions, and yet he wanted to take that course. He felt he couldn’t even attribute the behaviour to good training as his parents were hardly the conduit for high ideals. These sentiments seemed anachronistic in these times of economic rationalism.

      He would proceed to the corner and see how impossible the task was. Maybe it would be worth it merely to refute Mick’s contention. He would let Mick take the fed stock and then the cattle that survived might help the Gower brothers recover. It was a tenuous hope.

      Deciding that Pal was ready to go, Josh resumed the ride to the place he hoped to find the herd. His mind was already contemplating what he would do when the inevitable cessation of employment happened. A deep rumble behind alerted him to the gathering storm. The viscous, humid atmosphere promised the beginning of the wet. He glanced behind to observe the blue-grey wall of cloud approaching like an irresistible tidal wave from the tropics. He might have an hour and a half. With a slight dig of his heels he caused Pal to increase his stride.

      The journey was punctuated by an increased frequency of the ominous rumblings as the rain front progressed southward. Slower than he originally thought, the increased darkness of the cloud mass made him uneasy. Torrential rain now would make the route back impassable.

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