Witi Ihimaera - Uncle's Story

‘Well that made me feel even angrier, being called “Little Patty”. Cliff followed it up by hugging me and I was so shocked at being hugged like that by somebody I didn’t know. I turned to Sam for help. He was busy hoisting Cliff’s flight bag over his shoulder and didn’t realise I needed him to rescue me. Then it was over, and I was gasping for breath. I was angry and afraid, and then we were walking to the car and Cliff’s right arm was around my waist. When we reached the car Cliff assumed that I was sitting in the back. I looked at Sam, because he knew I always sat up front with him. But when Cliff opened the passenger door and stepped in, all Sam said was: “You’ll be all right in the back, won’t you, Patty?”’

Auntie Pat’s words were on fire, so I tried to stop her mounting anger.

‘Did Harper look like his photograph, Auntie Pat?’

She stared at me. She seemed to be struggling against her reply. When it came it was like a release. An admission.

‘I know that beauty is not a word you normally associate with men,’ she said, ‘but when I saw Cliff Harper I thought he was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.’

Der der der der der der .

Sam’s heart was beating fast. After all this time and, at last, Cliff had arrived. And the feeling was still there .

Cliff gave a devastating wink.

You and me against the world, right?

Cliff saw that Patty was glowering at them both.

Uh oh , he signed, your little sister is not very happy.

In an attempt to make her feel comfortable, Cliff put his arm around her shoulder as they walked towards the car.

‘You’re travelling light,’ Sam said. ‘Only the Army bag?’

‘I’ve left my stuff up in Auckland at the airport,’ Cliff answered. ‘I didn’t think I’d be wearing much.’

He grinned and let Sam figure that one out.

‘Okay,’ Sam said as he started the car. ‘Are you all right back there, Patty? Then let’s go.’ He turned to Cliff. ‘I’m sorry, Sir, but the guided tour of Gisborne and the district has been postponed —’

‘Can I have my money back?’

Sam laughed. ‘Dad wants me at the farm as soon as possible,’ he explained. ‘He’s gathered some of the other farmers together for a cull of wild mustangs up in the hills. Every spare man is needed to help get them across the Waipaoa River.’

The car reached the outskirts of Gisborne. Ahead, the mountains were rising fast. Sam put his foot on the accelerator. Soon they were at the Matawhero crossroads.

‘You don’t mind, do you?’ Sam asked Cliff. ‘I thought I’d drop you at home where Mum and Patty can look after you?’

‘No way,’ Cliff answered, shaking his head. ‘I came all this way to spend time with you . You said you needed every man.’

‘Can you ride a horse?’

‘I’m an Illinois country boy. I was born in the saddle.’

‘There’s the river to ford and you can’t swim.’

‘In that case, you’d better give me a horse that can do freestyle,’ Cliff said. ‘Or breaststroke. As long as it floats.’

Half an hour later, they arrived at the farm. Florence was waiting on the verandah.

‘You’d better hurry, son. Your father will be at the river soon.’

Sam nodded. ‘This is Cliff,’ he said. ‘He’s coming with me.’

Florence only had time to shake Cliff’s hand.

‘Okay, Illinois boy,’ Sam continued. ‘No time to talk. Let’s go.’

Patty joined her mother on the verandah and watched as Sam and Cliff headed to the barn. Florence became aware of Patty’s silence.

‘What’s wrong, Patty?’

‘Nothing.’

Sam and Cliff left the farm at a gallop, following the contours of the land. For a while they rode abreast as Sam checked out Cliff’s equestrian skills.

‘How long has it been since you were in the saddle?’ Sam asked.

‘Give me a break,’ Cliff answered. ‘I’m still used to helicopters.’

‘Well,’ Sam grinned, ‘this should be easier. You kick to go and you pull on the reins to stop.’ Then he looked at his watch. ‘We’ve got no time to waste.’

Sam urged his stallion, Czar, ahead, and cracked on the pace. When he came to the foothills, he broke left up a small river tributary. Cliff, on Honcho, had lagged behind, but he waved him on.

‘I’ll catch up. You go ahead —’

Sam spurred Czar onward. Soon, he heard the sound of the rushing river. The bush opened up and he was there, at the T-junction where the tributary forked from the river. Two of the local wranglers, Jake and Jimbo, were waiting on the sandspit at the junction.

‘You made it just in time,’ Jake said. ‘They’re on the way down.’

Jake pointed up the river valley. Sam looked ahead. At the bend of the river was a track winding down from a steep ravine. His eyes followed the track to the top. The sun dazzled. Dust swirled against the sky. He could hear voices, whistles, shouting.

Cliff arrived. ‘I want my helicopter back,’ he said.

Sam introduced Cliff to Jake and Jimbo.

‘I’m glad you brought a mate,’ Jake said. ‘There’s no way we could have set up the block with just the three of us, and I don’t know what side of the river they’ll come down. How about splitting the difference? Two of us on this side and two on the other? As long as we head them off, force them into the tributary and down to the lowlands. Who’s going to get wet?’

‘Heads you and Jimbo go to the other side,’ Sam answered. ‘Tails we go.’

The coin flipped and flashed in the air.

‘Tails,’ Jake said. ‘Enjoy the swim, boys.’

Sam saw Cliff’s face blanch at the thought of riding through all that rushing water. Before he could protest Sam had taken his bullwhip from the pommel and stung Cliff’s horse on the flank. Honcho, bawling with surprise, leapt into the water — and Cliff gave an unearthly scream.

‘Ride him, Cliff!’ Sam yelled.

He put the spurs into Czar and plunged in after Cliff. The water rushed against Czar, and Sam was surprised it was so strong. He’d crossed nearly to halfway before drawing abreast of Cliff.

‘How you doing?’

‘Remind me to kill you when we get to the other side,’ Cliff spluttered.

He had stopped screaming and yelling, and was actually enjoying himself. The water had soaked his shirt so that it was plastered tight against his skin. His hair, slicked back by the currents, had become dark brown, the curls tightening on his scalp. He grinned at Sam and made a thumbs-up sign. Honcho, then Czar, found the bottom, and with a clattering on the river stones they heaved themselves up and out of the water.

Sam and Cliff had positioned themselves none too soon. Down the track came a lone rider. ‘They’re on their way —’

The rider was Bully, who came splashing along and reined in beside Sam. ‘That father of yours,’ Bully said admiringly. ‘There’s about eighty head coming down —’

‘ Eighty —’

‘He wouldn’t leave any behind. He told me to come ahead to give you the numbers and to help turn them when they arrive. Here they come!’

From far up the river valley came the thunder of hooves. The high whinnying of the wild mustangs. The crack of the bullwhips as the wranglers chased the herd down. The thunder bounced down the valley and, when it reached the five horsemen waiting there, sounded like an advancing avalanche. All of a sudden Honcho was up on his hind legs and Cliff had to fight the reins to keep him from bolting.

Sam saw the first mustang. He was a beauty, as black as sin, and he was leading the herd, coming down their side of the river. The herd was moving too fast. At this pace, they would overrun the three men. Sam signed to Bully to follow him.