McCullock's Gold
Chapter 15. The Quizzical Cattle; and More Than Half A Tank
On reaching the Plenty Highway Frazier swung left toward Queensland and a short time later they recrossed the Bonya Creek. Up the bank and around the sweeping right hand corner they went, past the Jervois Mines/Lucy Creek turnoff and onto the long east by north-east straight section.
After eight kilometres they came on some cattle, a mob of thirty or so standing about where the gravelled formation traversed a broad scrubby watercourse. There was no actual channel here, just a depression in the landscape where storm runoff sometimes pooled at the roadside or occasionally flowed across it. Because of this the local stock would congregate there at the first sign of a shower, then hang around in anticipation of water materialising.
A fortnight earlier there’d been a sprinkle of rain. Most had soaked in, though a small quantity had accumulated in the side drain. There’d never been enough to drink and the little that did collect was soon churned to mud, but the shower had germinated fresh grass and the mob had remained there. That and the residual smell of moisture kept them loitering about on the highway.
Frazier began slowing while still a good way off, then closer up used the horn. The animals all turned to stare as the wagon approached, each with that quizzical expression only cattle can adopt. For a while they showed no inclination to move but the Toyota’s blaring horn started them milling about. Suddenly a consensus was reached and they blundered off into the scrub.
Just as the policeman started to accelerate three changed their minds. Cadney shouted and Frazier hit the brakes but one thumped into the bullbar. The impact wasn’t hard enough to hurt the beast or damage anything but the men in the wagon certainly felt it.
When they moved off again Cadney noticed that the cattle had knocked down a ghost gum sapling in their rush, the last of three growing in a wide spaced row just off the highway. Almost identical in age they were, each with a tall white trunk not yet fifty millimetres in diameter.
To see one damaged like this was disappointing for Cadney. He’d been watching them grow for a couple of years now and admired their symmetry and straightness. To him it was some-thing special, a showing of order in the random world of nature. The tree appeared bent rather than broken, however, so he decided to return one day with a picket and cord. He would splint the trunk straight again until it healed.
After a few more kilometres the countryside changed. East Jervois Station’s low upland savannah grass and acacia ended in a gentle descent into the spinifex, mallee and giant termite mounds of west Tarlton Downs – the desert margin country.
Just prior to crossing the boundary grid they drove by a particularly large ant hill right alongside the highway, then once in Tarlton Downs Frazier reduced speed. Cadney sat forward, the better to watch for tracks leaving the road formation.
A few minutes later Frazier checked their GPS. “We should turn off along here somewhere,” he announced. “The abandoned vehicle is about six K’s north of us.”
“Hey stop stop stop!” Cadney yelled. “There’s some tracks back there.”
Frazier braked then switched to reverse, but his passenger was already out and running back to investigate. Instead he left the engine idling and followed on foot.
The tracks were not fresh. They traversed the big windrow at the side of the highway and disappeared north into the spinifex. Little sand drifts had formed in them and grass seeds and dry leaves had blown in.
“Three vehicles turned here,” Cadney said after a quick appraisal. “A week or so back by the look of it or ten days perhaps. The sand’s too soft to see much more but you can still tell what happened.”
Frazier agreed. “The top set go straight from the windrow to the gravel without turning.” he said.
“Yeah, and the other two come down from the road at an angle and then turn. That’s two cars in and one car out.
—DINGO!”
“Dingo? …Where?”
“No, mate. Like at the Footy Club – on Seniors’ Night. When someone gets all the numbers.”
“You’re bloody winding me up, aren’t you.”
“What. Isn’t that what they say?”
“Get in the wagon, Tarzan. We’re going straight back to the clinic for a hearing test.”
Cadney burst out laughing.
“You mad bugger,” Frazier grumbled as they walked back to the vehicle. “I only wanted a tracker; instead I get a half-baked self-activating bloody clown. —It’s my own stupid fault I suppose,” he added resignedly. “You’d think I’d have learned after three years of it.”
Back at the Toyota he engaged the front hubs, then reversed up to where the other vehicles had made their exit. After switching into four wheel drive he went forward, turning so as to cross the drain and windrow on the older tracks.
For a time they meandered northward, heaving and lurching over the spinifex clumps as Frazier followed the wheel marks through the sparsely timbered red sand country. Along the way they passed more giant ant hills, traversed a broad dry watercourse and crossed three low sand ridges.
Eventually the tracks led them up a bigger sand hill and from the summit they could see the abandoned vehicle. It was a bronze-coloured, next-to-latest model tray-back Nissan Patrol, some two to three years old, and it was standing on a clear patch of ground a short distance from a clump of mallee trees. Frazier brought the Toyota to a standstill thirty metres short of it and switched off the engine.
Cadney stepped out and began checking the tracks, deliberately keeping to the outside of where the second vehicle had driven around the Nissan as it departed. Frazier retrieved a large digital camera from a padded bag on the seat and took photographs. He then leant on the bonnet to make notes.
Two people were here, Cadney said on returning. One had walked out from where the vehicles had parked then come back again. He’d followed the tracks to where they’d gone into the mallee trees, obviously for a call of nature.
And that was it; the soft sand had preserved nothing but the passing of wheels and boots, he explained. Elapsed time had degraded the tracks further. No details remained.
The pair then walked over to the abandoned tray-back and looked it over. Both number plates had been removed and the registration sticker’s details had been scraped off.
Cadney was puzzled. There was no doubt in his mind as to what had taken place. Two vehicles had driven here then both drivers had departed in the second one, via the same set of wheel tracks. The curious thing about it was why? Why would anyone want to walk away from what appeared to be a perfectly good Nissan four-be?
“The crazy things people do,” he remarked. “Why couldn’t they have abandoned the thing in front of my place?”
Frazier ignored him and tried the driver’s door. It was unlocked. The interior was generally clean and dust free but the keys were not in the ignition.
He checked the glove compartment (it was empty), then behind the seats (tools, fire extinguisher, jack and tyre changing gear, first aid kit…) but found nothing that might identify the owner. Nor was there anything under the seats. He called out to Cadney and pulled the bonnet release. Cadney propped it open.
The compliance plate was gone, butchered off with a screwdriver by the look of it. Cadney checked the engine. It was clean but newly dusted: a town vehicle using a dusty road. The cooling system was full and the oil levels were correct, yet he couldn’t help feeling he’d missed something. He checked again (battery, wiring, fanbelts, oils, coolant…) then glanced at the radiator cap.
The coolant! The droplets under the pressure plate looked fresh.
After a careful inspection Cadney found a small repair, on the engine side of the radiator, inside the cowl. But the light in there was too dim to see properly. He took his cigarette lighter from his pocket then held it near the fan and flicked it alight.
The job was recent. Something had punctured one of the core tubes. Either that or it was a manufacturing defect.
Frazier was loo
king under the mudguards for a possible emergency key. When he stood up again he saw what Cadney was doing. “Burning the bloody thing won’t help,” he muttered. “How about looking for a spare key.”
Without waiting for a reply he headed back to the police wagon; there he reached across the steering wheel for his satellite phone. But the Alice Springs Police Communications desk was busy, so he waited for a couple of minutes and keyed the number again. This time it rang.
When it was answered Frazier reported being at the abandoned vehicle. Another four wheel drive had accompanied it, he explained, and both drivers had departed in the second one. He then described the Nissan in detail, mentioning about its lack of plates and registration details, and how they’d found it unlocked but with the keys missing.
He was instructed to try and recover the vehicle and return it to town. Frazier suggested that without the keys this may not be possible and said that he’d report again later.
Cadney heard Frazier’s last comment as he walked back to the police wagon. Perhaps he could hot-wire the starter and fuel solenoid, he thought as Frazier signed off, then quickly realised this would still leave them with a locked steering wheel. Suddenly he begged to excuse himself and strode off in the direction of the mallee trees.
Frazier grunted acknowledgement as he pulled a note-book from his shirt pocket, following which he leant on the bonnet to make some additional notes. When finished he re-read them and made a minor alteration. That done he retrieved his water container from behind the passenger’s seat. After having a drink he left it out in case Cadney came back thirsty as well.
He then noticed that one of his rear tyres looked a bit low, so after repacking the camera he went to the passenger’s side and rummaged in the glove compartment for his tyre gauge. But the pressure registered normal; it was just an impression given by the vehicle’s standing on uneven ground.
After returning the gauge to the glove box he closed the passenger’s door and looked toward the mallee trees. There was no sign of Cadney so he wandered back to the Nissan.
As he leant on the mudguard a couple of crows flew by. On seeing Frazier and the vehicles they made a half circuit and landed in a small dead tree nearby – in case food might be taken and scraps discarded. But the stick on which they’d perched was a mere twig, so Frazier amused himself for a few moments by trying mentally to will it into breaking.
When the birds saw him staring they floated off to another tree, a live one slightly farther away. There they resumed watching from the privacy of its foliage.
Eventually Frazier became irritated by the length of time Cadney was taking and walked out to the mallee thicket. It was deserted, however; his helper was nowhere to be seen.
He checked the tracks … and saw that none of them actually stopped there; they all went on and disappeared into the spinifex. In frustration he cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted in their general direction: “Hey, take your bloody time! There’s no need to hurry you know! We’ve got all bloody day!”
And when Cadney replied it was from a good deal farther than the policeman had expected. He’d be back in a couple of minutes, came the distant voice.
Frazier found a shady spot under the trees and leant on one of the thin angled-out trunks, but after waiting for a while he ran out of patience and set off to follow the footprints. He’d only gone a short distance when he saw his assistant returning through the spinifex.
“What in the name of fortune were you doing out there?” he demanded as the distance between them lessened. “Building a bloody brick shithouse first?” He continued walking as he waited for an answer.
Cadney didn’t reply until closer. “I was looking for these,” he said, tossing Frazier the keys. “It just took me a while to find the buggers, ay.”
“Out there?!! What made you think they’d be out there?”
“Well, you know… I was going over what I’d done earlier, see, and remembered checking the tracks. At the time I’d just assumed the fellow had gone into the trees for a shit.
“But I didn’t actually confirm it, Fraz, and when I heard you talking on the sat phone I suddenly realised: If he had gone out there for a shit there’d be some evidence. But what if he’d gone out there for another reason?
“That’s why I came back. It was to make sure, ay. But the tracks didn’t stop in the mallee. They went on, so naturally I followed ‘em. And there was no sign of any three P’s where they turned around.”
“Three P’s?”
“Yeah – piss, poop or paper. And so I says to meself I says: ‘Okay, Mister Jack Cadney – tracker extraordinaire and consultant of note to the Northern Territory Constabulary – why then would you suppose a person might want to go out this far?’”
“… And?”
“—One’s humble deduction? Well, to exercise his legs
one supposes or to contemplate the great wonders of nature.
It might even have been – you know – To Throw Away Some Keys. I mean who would ever find the buggers, Fraz?
“But guess what the scary part was. I mean if he had done a poop out there it would’ve required digging up, in case they’d been buried underneath.”
“Yeah, so giving you a chance to demonstrate your real talents. You’d also have been the one starting the Nissan I don’t need to say.”
Back at the abandoned vehicle Frazier tried the engine. There was no response; the battery was dead. Cadney went to the police wagon and drove it across; Frazier guided him close-in then delved behind the passenger’s seat for his jumper leads.
With the batteries connected and the police wagon’s hand throttle set, the two leant on the Nissan’s tray for a while and stared into the middle distance. Then Cadney discovered why the battery had lost its charge. For some reason the abandoners had left the interior light switched on.
When they tried again five minutes later the engine started promptly. Frazier looked over the gauges. Everything seemed as it should be. The alternator was charging, the oil pressure was up and the fuel gauge showed more than half a tank. He set the hand throttle to a fast idle and stepped out.
By this time Cadney had disconnected the jumper leads and closed the two bonnets. Frazier stowed the cables then asked Cadney if he was okay to drive the Nissan in to Alice Springs.
Cadney said he’d be happy to, as long as he could call at Bonya and pick up his swag and the Holden’s radiator.
Frazier said he couldn’t see why not, as long as Cadney was at Harts Range by evening. The two then drove out to the highway via the now well established wheel tracks.
Once on the main road Cadney stayed half a kilometre behind Frazier to keep clear of his dust. Then, on reaching the Bonya turnoff, he headed in to collect his things.