Arthur Upfield - The bushman who came back

“Why, Meena!” he exclaimed. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“You loose that Charlie,” she commanded. “Go on! I’ll count three and then…” threatened Meena.

Lazily Bony turned to one side and took the cuff key from his side pocket. Tossing it to Meena’s feet he said:

“You loose him. I’m tired.”

Her left hand went down for the key, and from a crouching position she knelt, and on her knees made the short journey to Charlie. Arrived at the saddle and his imprisoned wrist, she put the pistol on the ground, and the next instant it was whisked away by Bony. Meena was up on her feet enraged and shouting, and the pistol was pointing at her. Her shouting faded to a whimper of fury, when Bony said:

“You must never place a delicate weapon like a pistol on the dusty ground. Look at all the dust and sand on it. I’ll have to spend half an hour cleaning it. Now you free Charlie, then put more wood on the fire and boil the billy for tea. And don’t let the sand get into those handcuffs. Put them into the pack-bag, and give me the key before you lose it. Women!” Charlie stood perplexed, as was Meena, and Bony went on:

“Sit down again, Charlie, and roll a cigarette. We have a cook now, remember. She makes the tea.”

From staring at each other, they stared at Bony, who was squinting down the barrel of the pistol as though the weapon was his most precious possession. Then Charlie grunted and the tableau ended by the man sitting down and the girl looking about for the billycan.

“Whatd’you think of my plan to tackle old Canute?” nonchalantly inquired Bony. “Ought to make him come to heel and give you Meena. In fact, I’ll guarantee that it does. Or else, Charlie. Or else he goes to jail.”

Charlie grunted again, and looked at Meena. She had placed the filled billycan against the red fire coals and was standing and gazing at the flames in obvious amazement. Unconsciously she was now Bony’s firm ally in the scheme to soften Charlie. She wore only a pair of shorts, dark blue in colour and an admirable fit. Silhouetted against the firelight, her figure was tantalizing, her naked breasts, her slim neck, her profile and the crown of curly hair all totalling the love call to Man. It stirred even Bony.

Charlie, although young, possessed wisdom. Negatively he shook his head and winked, thus advising ‘no see’ tactics. The girl continued to watch the flames, and Bony began to hum a tune and apply himself industriously to the pistol-cleaning. The water in the billy boiled, and the girl dropped a handful of leaves into it, then lifting the billy with a short stick under its handle, she set it down to cool, and turned to look at the two men.

“Charlie, stir yourself and open a tin of meat for Meena,” ordered Bony. “Come and sit down, Meena, and let Charlie look after you. You must be hungry and thirsty.”

Charlie scrambled off to obey, and Meena sank to the soft earth, sat tailor-wise, and looked at Bony as though he were the man that never was. Carefully, Bony wrapped the pistol in the rag.

“I should not have left this on the blanket roll behind me. It might have gone off when you picked it up, Meena. I don’t like pistols. Dangerous things to handle. How did you know that Charlie and I were camped here?”

“Tracked you easy enough,” boasted Meena. “Saw where you caught Charlie just off the flat and made him lead the pack-horse.” She accepted the opened tin of meat from Charlie without looking at him, and when he brought her a pannikin of tea, still she ignored him. “You’re a cunning feller, Mr Bonaparte. You catch Charlie like he was a little gin.”

“He had bad luck, Meena. You see, he was crossing that flat inside a willi-willi, and just before the willi got to my side it fell apart, and there he was in the open. Very nearly tricked me. I’ve heard of it being done, but not seen it before, and I’ve never tried it. What’s it like, Charlie, inside?”

“All right,” chuckled Charlie. “Air’s clear. Sand rushing round and round that fast you can just see out. Meena’s done it. I watched her. That time she went along good till the willi went faster and faster, and she run and run to keep with it, and then she fell down, and there she was.”

“And here she is,” added Bony. “Who were you tracking, Meena? Charlie or me?”

“Charlie? What for you track Mr Bonaparte? Go on, you tell. I saw you start after him at the homestead, and I said to Sarah I’d find out for why.”

Charlie was now an ebony image. The firelight on the girl’s face and body was reflected as from gold dust. That she was famished for food and drink was plain, and Bony sought information.

“You have been on Charlie’s tracks for three days, Meena?”

She nodded, and continued to glare at Charlie.

“And no tucker?”

Still glaring at Charlie, impatiently she shook her head. To her lover she said:

“You’re a cunning feller, too, but not properly cunning. I heard what Mister Bonaparte said he’d do to Canute about me, and I seen you go all softy-softy thinking about it. You’re going to say what Mister Bonaparte wants, and you’re not going to get me off of Canute for doing it, see?”

Charlie looked embarrassed, and began pouring sand from one hand to the other. He employed the old, old stratagem of laughing to cover up, and Meena threw the meat tin with deadly aim, the tin smashing into Charlie’s mouth.

“But Charlie is happy, Meena. He and I were having a little talk before you butted in.”

Blood showed on the man’s lips where the jagged edge of the tin had connected. He licked off the blood and stood, for now primitive man was set upon his dignity, and primitive woman was to pay forfeit. Perhaps.

“Before you begin, put more wood on the fire,” Bony requested calmly.

“I’ll do that,” roared Charlie, and Meena yelled: “And I will, too.”

“All right, but don’t put all of Yorky’s woodpile on,” Bony shouted.

They calmed, both panting less from exertion than from consuming anger, and they regarded Bony, who still reclined at ease on the warm earth. The look in his eyes probably reminded them of the Missioner, and something of the Missioner’s teaching, for with downcast eyes Meena dropped her load of wood and returned to sit close to Bony, to torment Charlie, rather than for protection, of which she wished none. The lover flung his wood on the flames, which quickly grew, and sullenly he sat down with his back to the saddle.

“Now we are together again,” murmured Bony, “let us be at peace and talk friendly. True, Meena, that you tracked Charlie to find out why he tracked me?”

“That’s right.” From the pocket of her shorts she took a tin, from which she produced tobacco and papers and began making a cigarette. He waited, and then leaned forward to offer the flame. She leaned nearer to bring the cigarette to the match, and smiled provocatively at Charlie.

“And why have you been tracking me?” Bony hurriedly demanded of Charlie.

Charlie took refuge in sullenness, and Meena said brightly:

“That ole Canute feller sent him, I bet.”

“Like to know, wouldn’t you?” Charlie asked with a feeble imitation of a sneer, and Bony now decided to break up this lovers’ tiff.

“Now listen, you two. Playing about tracking each other and running around inside willi-willies is over for today. There’s Yorky and Linda Bell. There’s the policeman and Mr Wootton and me. You are supposed to be as anxious as anyone to locate Yorky. Now, Charlie, you answer questions and no more silliness. What we all say to one another goes no farther than the firelight, I promise you. And don’t forget, you two have been playing each other too long. You have to get married by the Missioner, settle down, have children, be happy. I’ll fix Canute, don’t worry. All right, Charlie, why have you been tracking me?”