The Lost Man(33)

Later, Nathan worked out that he must have had three or four minutes to make the decision. It hadn’t been spur of the moment, whichever way you cut it. It had been calculated, and in the end, that made it worse.

Either way, the facts were the same. Nathan had seen Keith’s car, parked at an angle, and then he’d seen Keith. One arm waving, one arm clutched by his side and a look of deep disappointment on his face as he realised it was Nathan behind the wheel. Still, Keith had waved a second time, his body bent over slightly. One arm flapping in the air, the other down by his side, near the pocket where he kept his money. Nathan’s foot had touched the brake then, without fully letting himself think about it, eased off again. He pictured Xander, miles away from him now, and he’d felt a weight in his chest and a rush of blood to his head. Somewhere beneath it all, he heard Keith’s words.

‘Don’t bloody come near me or my family again.’

‘Whatever you say, mate.’

Nathan drove past and did not stop.





Chapter 11



Not that anyone cared, but for the record, Nathan’s conscience had got the better of him. He’d turned around after thirty minutes, which became an hour by the time he got back to Keith’s car. The bloke’s four-wheel drive was still there, still parked at its odd angle, but there was no sign of Keith. Uneasy now, Nathan had called it in on the radio. There had been an unusually long wait before anyone had answered him. Keith had been taken away by ambulance, he was finally told.

‘Is he all right?’ Nathan had asked. Another long wait. The dead static dragged on into a second minute.

‘It’s too late, mate,’ said a voice at last. It had to be someone he knew, but he didn’t recognise the tone.

‘Too late for Keith? Shit, seriously?’

‘No. For you to pretend you give a fuck. He told us you left him.’

And with that, Nathan’s radio had fallen silent.

Nathan glanced now over at Xander, who was watching Bub and Harry standing over the stockman’s grave. Bub had his back to them as Harry crouched by the headstone, examining what little remained of the small hole at its base. He stayed there for a long time, then finally stood and surveyed the land in every direction. Nathan didn’t bother turning his own head. He knew what was out there. Nothing, for miles and miles.

Keith had been having a stroke. He had nearly died. Nearly. But not quite, and no thanks at all to Nathan. Even knocking at death’s door as he was stretchered into the ambulance, Keith had summoned the energy to drag his oxygen mask from his mouth and tell his rescuers how Nathan had driven past. Leaving him for dead.

Keith had, in fact, been discovered within fifteen minutes by a delivery driver. He was bloody lucky, everyone said. Chance in a thousand that anyone came along at all. The story had whipped through the district like a dust storm. The disgust and distrust were palpable. Leaving someone stranded out there was not a matter of manners, it was life and death in the most literal sense. Nathan had single-handedly managed to do the unthinkable and unite the entire town – white, Indigenous, old, young, long-standing rivals, firm friends. Thirty-year grudges were set aside for as long as it took to discuss Nathan’s transgression.

On this issue alone, the entire community of Balamara was unwavering. Leaving a fellow man to the mercy of the elements was almost unimaginable and absolutely unforgivable. And if Nathan Bright, outback born and bred, didn’t understand that, then the life in that far-flung community was not for him.

Nathan had apologised, sincerely and at length. As had Harry and Liz, on his behalf and, after a beat, Cameron as well. Jacqui had picked up the phone long enough to scream down the line at him from Brisbane, then hung up and called her lawyers. At least she spoke to him, Nathan later thought. She was one of the few who did.

The community punishment was swift. There had been an excruciating town meeting where Nathan had stood up in front of sixty pairs of accusing eyes and read from a prepared apology. He’d been nervous and it had come across as awkward and hollow, even to him. He tried to explain about the custody battle and the pressure he’d been under. It was no excuse. You could be on fire and half-dead yourself and you would still be expected to stop and help. There wasn’t a reason in the world that could justify what he had done. If it proved anything, it was that Jacqui’s custody concerns were valid. Her lawyers later got a transcript of what Nathan had said and used it against him.

Jacqui herself had taken the trouble to compose an email – to this day Nathan had some very strong feelings about that – which her mother read out loud to the community meeting in a quivering voice, detailing the toll Nathan’s actions had taken on the family. That had been exceptionally well received. Nathan had caught even Bub nodding sympathetically in places.

There had been some heated murmurs that Sergeant McKenna should charge Nathan with attempted manslaughter, which thankfully came to nothing. So instead, the townsfolk turned their backs and closed ranks. Like a cancerous growth, Nathan was excised and the community healed without him.

He was banned instantly from every public facility in town. The service station and the post office eventually had to agree to serve him, after Glenn ordered them to, but transactions were completed without eye contact. Pretty soon, words were whispered into the ears of Nathan’s casual staff and they handed in their notices, one by one. He was forced to offer higher wages for lower skills and still couldn’t find replacements. He wasn’t able to handle all his cattle on his own and had to cut back. His usual mustering contractors refused to take his calls, finally admitting they’d been threatened with boycotts if they did business with him. Not that they would anyway. What kind of scumbag leaves a man for dead? He was forced to go further afield, and pay a lot more for a lot less.