Only Killers and Thieves(64)

“Christ in hell, Raymond,” Sullivan said. “You nearly got yourself killed.”

Locke was standing over the two male prisoners, his back to the group, pistol raised, and seemingly oblivious to the panic he had caused. Overnight the men had been rechained back-to-back and reseated by the wall. Now one was rocking and moaning, his face crumpled, his eyes clenched, while behind him the other slumped forward, a deadweight held in place by the chains. Locke had shot him through the head. The plum-sized hole steamed. A smell of burned powder in the air.

Locke turned and surveyed the group as if surprised to find them there. His face was sickly white, his eyes red, his skin lathered in sweat. He flexed his wounded shoulder and stretched out his neck until it clicked, then scratched his cheek bashfully with the pistol end.

“Well, I told you. Told that bastard too. Didn’t mean to scare no one.”

A grumble rippled through the group. Hesitantly Locke returned to his bedroll and began packing up his things. Noone was glaring at him. Locke kept his head down. “There any breakfast?” he asked. “I’m hungry as a horse without teeth.”

The camp settled. No one paid the dead man any more attention than when he was alive. Tommy looked for the girl and found her huddled against the wall, knees to her chin, alone. Noone wasn’t with her, and the woman wasn’t there; Tommy waited for Kala to notice him but she did not. She stared only at the dead man; Tommy looked at him anew. He’d been someone to her, he reminded himself. A brother, a friend. Like he’d seen Billy executed just now. And yet around them the camp was rousing as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Men rolling up their swags, pulling on their boots, shaking off the cold of the night. The fire was rekindled. Tea was boiled. Like any other morning on earth.

“Some cockcrow that,” Billy said, appearing at Tommy’s side. He was tying his own bedroll, fiddling with the knot, trying to appear casual but he did not look well. Eyes like mad cattle, his complexion watery and gray.

“It’s like he ain’t nothing,” Tommy said. “No better than a dog.”

Billy glanced to where the two men were chained. One holding up the other, fighting his deadweight pull. Billy spat on the ground.

“Worse than dogs, both of them. Murdering bastards, that’s what they are.”

“How’s that now?”

“They confessed.”

“Confessed to what?”

“What d’you reckon? Gave up Joseph and all them other cunts.”

“There were no other cunts, Billy. You made the other cunts up.”

“Keep your voice down.”

“You’ve swallowed your own bloody lie!”

“There might have been others, we don’t know there weren’t. Anyway, they confessed, I just told you. Only a day or so’s ride, Noone says.”

Tommy watched his brother doubtfully. Billy went on fumbling with his pack.

“And when did he tell you all this?”

“Last night. After you turned in. I’d have woken you but . . .”

Billy waved his hand, indicating the nature of things between them after he’d returned to camp, more reticent and flush-faced than anyone checking on horses ought to have been. Seeing him, Rabbit had hauled up the girl and taken her back to the ledge, and if Billy had noticed the goodwill between the three of them, he was too preoccupied to care. He sat down by the fire and took a slug of rum and ignored Tommy’s glaring.

“You did it,” Tommy had said finally. “You did it, I know.”

Billy wouldn’t answer him. Wouldn’t look anywhere but the flames. Soon Sullivan returned also, dragging the woman along. She was limp and walked unsteadily and held a hand to her face. She’d been crying.

“Sure I can’t tempt you?” Sullivan had said with a grin.

He’d spoken to Tommy, and Tommy alone. Billy’s head hung. Tommy turned away from both of them and lay down on his bedroll. At one point he’d heard Noone returning with the men, then Jarrah and Mallee taking the woman away for themselves; at another he must have, mercifully, fallen asleep.

“Where’s she at, anyway?” Tommy asked Billy now. “The woman, where’s she gone?”

“I ain’t seen her,” Billy said.

“You seen her plenty last night.”

“They never brought her back after. The blacks.”

“Meaning you know exactly where she’s at, what they’ve done.”

“Just quit, will you. She’s only a gin.”

Tommy walked away, sat down by the fire, drank tea from a stained and flaking tin cup he cradled in his hands for warmth. Noone was giving a briefing. He stood beside the two chained men. Based on their information there was perhaps only one more day of hard riding, he said, gesturing at the men as if acknowledging the contribution they had made to the cause. The one still able did not look up. He slumped miserably with the body on his back. Noone finished talking, then came to sit with Tommy at the fireside. He called Billy over, then when both brothers were seated, offered them the chance to take the remaining man’s life.

“What did they tell you?” Tommy asked. “Last night—what did they say?”

“The evidence will show that both of these men know Joseph. And that they were in the group which came to your property and killed Mr. and Mrs. McBride.”