Arthur Upfield - Winds of Evil

Martin Borradale knew this, too, and it was likely that yet others would be discovered who knew as much. Yet this series of crimes began shortly after Dreyton arrived at Wirragatta. It was he who climbed trees, to discover a piece of grey flannel in one, and it was he who for some mysterious reason preferred life on a boundary-fence to the comparatively luxurious life at the homestead.

And yet- It was as difficult to believe Dreyton capable of such terrible deeds as to think it of Martin Borradale, of Harry West, or of Bill the Cobbler. Bony had detected a kindly streak even behind the exterior of Hang-dog Jack. He was searching for a ferocious beast, and no one he had yet met came near his mental picture of this beast. Almost despite himself his mind kept reverting to Dreyton, for there was the keen suspicion that the temporary book-keeper knew certain facts and suspected others which he had never divulged.

When Bony entered the men’s dining-room Harry West and the horse, Black Diamond, was the subject under discussion. Harry was reviling Constable Lee for reporting him to the boss of Wirragatta for riding Black Diamond into Carie.

“Fair towelled me up, he did,” Harry complained.

“You deserved it,” Bony asserted as he seated himself at the table. “Pass the beetroot, please.”

“Oh, Iain’twhinin ’ about it, Joe, only it’s a bit thick to be chewed forridin ’ amoke I can manage with one hand.”

“Why did the boss order that no one was to ride Black Diamond?” inquired Bony of everyone in general.

“ ’Coshe’s a man-killer,” replied Hang-dog Jack. “That ’orsehas already killed one bloke and injured two others. Give the boss his due, he done quite right to declare Black Diamond an outlaw. ’Arryhere is the only bloke wot ever rode him, but to go and ride ’imin the dark-well, he deserves what’s coming to ’im.”

“There’s no law against riding a measly horse to a township, is there?” Harry demanded hotly. “Lee’s a liar to say that I rode to the public danger. Why, I only got as far as the pub corner. Didn’t I, Joe?”

“It was far enough. You might have ridden down someone on the road.”

“Someone on the road!”came the withering echo. “Ain’tevery man, woman and child in the district afraid to go out after dark?”

“But Simone’s nabbed Barry Elson,” Bill the Cobbler pointed out.

“You’re a bigger fool than I take you for if you think Barry Elson done all them murders,” Harry flashed out.

“We don’t think it, and neither does anyone elsewot’s got any gumption,” put in Young-and-Jackson. “Didn’t Simone tell Hang-dog Jack that he reckoned he was looking at the murderer of Alice Tindall?”

“Perhaps he spoke a true word when he spoke in jest,” Harry heatedly got in, and then ducked when the bone of the leg of mutton carved for the meal whizzed past his head.

“You ’intI done them murders again, Harry West, and I’ll break you inter little bits,” snarled the cook, crouched now at the head of the table, his face hideously convulsed with rage, his long arms curved and his hairy-backed hands opening and snapping shut. Yellow teeth were bared in a ferocious grin.

“If we all took the sergeant seriously,” Bony said in effort to pour oil on troubled waters, “then I would not sleep o’ nights. Sergeant Simone told me that he thought I was the murderer, and I cannot understand why he did not arrest me instead of Elson. Come, now, don’t let us lose our tempers over what the sergeant said. Harry, sit down.”

The quiet authoritative tone succeeded. Harry sat down and the rage slowly passed from the cook’s face. Hang-dog Jack turned back to his serving-bench, and thereafter the meal was eaten in silence.

“You should not have said that about truth and jest,” Bony reproved Harry West as they walked across to the bunk-house. “When controlled by such a gust of anger, Hang-dog Jack might do you a serious injury. Once he got his hands on you, you would be lost.”

“I didn’t think,” confessed the young man. “Besides, I was riled at him for backing up the boss. The bosssorta hinted that I’d lost me chance of one of the married houses for riding that black devil against his orders. Ah, well! Poor old Hang-dog Jackain’t a bad sort. I’ll go back and apologize to him. No bloke can be responsible for his dial.”

“To apologize requires courage,” averred Bony, glancing quickly at Harry’s fearless face. To that facecame a grin.

“To apologize to Hang-dog Jack certainly does,” Harry said. “Say, are you going to town tonight?”

“Yes, I promised to play chess with Dr. Mulray.”

“Good-oh! When youstartin ’?”

“Just after sundown.”

“That’ll do me. We could arrange to meet and walk back together. I don’t like the idea of coming on alone in the dark-on foot.”

“Very well,” agreed Bony, and Harry returned to the kitchen to prove his courage and raisehimself high in Bony’s estimation.

The sky was aflame to the zenith, and the vociferous birds were winging about the homestead and river trees when the detective and Harry West left for Carie. The track to Carie ran beside the river for a quarter of a mile before branching off from the creek track just above Junction Waterhole. When they arrived at this splendid sheet of water Bony halted beneath one of the huge red-gums whichwas the third last to the first of the creek box-trees. A gentle easterly breeze rippled the crimson-dyed surface of the water, and when a fish jumped for a fly its gleaming scales gave back crimson fire.

“It was here where poor Alice Tindall was found, wasn’t it?” Bony asked.

Harry West shrugged his shoulders without knowing it. “Yes,” he said, to add quickly: “Come away, Joe. I hate this place even in daylight.”

“Why, it is entrancingly beautiful,” Bony objected. “What a waterhole! It must have been a great camping-place for all the blacks in this district. Water! Cool and precious water now that the summer is come again. Shade! Real shade cast by these trees which suckered before Dampier ever saw Australia. Therewas loving and fighting, chanting and feasting for years upon years, Harry, all about this waterhole. Then the white man came, and for still a few more years the blacks lived their unfettered lives. But there was no more hunting and, because the white man’s tucker was easy to get-by working for it-there was no more real feasting. Finally came the dreadedbunyip to drive them all away, and this beautiful place now is desolate.”

“Aw, come on!” urged Harry. “We can talk about ’emon our way. Yes, therewas always blacks hereabouts before Alice Tindall was strangled. After that, when Simone had finished roaring at ’em, not a one would come within fifty miles of the place. And I don’t blame ’em, bee-lieveme.”

“She was a nice-looking girl, wasn’t she?” Bony said as they strode away from the river, across the bluebush plain.

“Too right she was. As you know, she was a half-caste, but like you she had sharp features. Old Dogger Smith-youain’t met him yet; he’s the biggest character inNoo South-told me she was born white and didn’t begin to colour until she was past twelve. That sounds funny, but it’s right, maybe. But pretty! Gosh-she was just lovely.”

“How old was she when-?”

“Getting on for eighteen. She was a corker. She had blue eyes, lighter in colour and brighter than yours, Joe. She had long straight hair what hung down her back in plaits. She wasn’t too dark of skin, either. Well, Miss Borradale always took a great interest in Alice. She wanted Alice to be a maid at ‘Government House’, but Alice wouldn’t take it on. Still, that didn’t makeno difference with Miss Borradale. She encouraged Alice to visit the maids at ‘Government House’, and she gave her clothes and showed her how to wear ’em. Alice often went with Miss Borradale out riding and sometimes in the car, and it was because of Miss Borradale that Alice grew up as good as she was pretty. Blokes would no more look cross-eyed at Alice than they would at their sisters.