Chapter 17

Charlie

Thursday started nuts! Just nuts.

The four of us had breakfast together, an' Weena had to go an' ask Maddy what she wanted as a wedding present. Dumb ass Charlie had to say I hadn't said nothin' about a wedding. So I got the rest of Maddy's coffee over my head an' she started in with "What the hell was I thinkin'?" and that sort o' stuff. An' I tried to explain that I'd said I wanted to git to a jewelry stare, an' I was plannin' to ask her, but she hadn't even told me what she thought about my idees for combining the leases ... And then we had to spend 20 minutes making up and getting' me a clean shirt.

Waal, it waren't eight yet an' we wuz jes' settled back down when one o' the men come runnin' in yellin' about a "wild bull" in the corral with my bulls. So I got on a horse an' he got back on his an' we rode off.

We could hear 'em before we saw 'em. The big black bull was standin' in the middle o' the paddock an' there was a shaggy brown bull with medium horns facin' him from one corner. They were both snortin' and pawin'. The young bulls were bunched in the far corner, watchin' -- we were right in time for the main event.

"Whatcha gonna do, Charlie?" the guy asked me.

"Nothin'."

"Nuttin'?"

"Nope. If the big bull can take care of hisself, there's no problem. If he cain't, I don' wanna breed him. Might be a good show. Most times one scares the other off. Sometimes they fight. Only seen thet oncet or twice."

Just then the stranger moved a step forward. Blackie just shook his head and snorted. Then I noticed a quiver back from his withers. "He's getting' ready," I said softly. The brown bull moved one forefoot; a young bull snorted and the brown bull turned his head a bit. That was enough. Blackie just ran a bit to the side of the interloper and moved his head from right to left. The brown bull screamed – I don' know another word – and I could see a three-foot slash along his side. There was an inch or two of blood on the tip of Blackie's right horn. Blackie planted his left front foot, wheeled and drove his head straight into his opponent's ribcage. I could hear the ribs crack and air whistle from a punctured lung. The stranger sank to his front knees and shook his head. There was a sizeable puddle of blood.

"That's it," I said. "We'd better get the horses away from here. They don't like the blood smell." As we turned, the other bulls took a few steps toward the victim. As they did, Blackie took a step nearer to the wild bull and pissed on his head.

"Wow!"

"Yeah. He's marked him good. The other bulls will now add their bit. When he's dead, they'll walk on him. We'd better figger on you men movin' 'em after lunch."

"Yes, you'd better," said Maddy. The three of 'em were about 20 foot back.

"That was amazing," said Weena.

"I never thought of cattle as fighters," added Gordy.

"They're not, us'ally. The horns are sex signs, even though bulls and cows both carry 'em. But bulls argue about territory and harems and them longhorns aren't placid."

"I'll say they're not."

"Look. Big boy here's been on a train and a boat and a train and another train and finally he's here. He's got young 'uns he knows. He's got water and fodder. An' now this stranger wants to invade. Hell, Gordy, you're a nice guy and you wouldn't stand for it."

"You're right."

"What next?" asked Maddy.

"Waal, you wuz gonna send that guy to see how the river was dryin'. An' then, I'll take a present to Blackie an' then we'll move the boys. Let the buzzards have what's left o' the stranger."

Gordy

I was really amazed. Oh, I'd had a course on animal communication at the uni, and I knew about fish and lizards and birds displaying and sometimes fighting about territory or females, but I'd never really thought about it. And that big black longhorn was just like a gangster knife-fighter in a movie. It was really something.

Weena asked: "Would you fight for me?"

"No. The bull wouldn't want you."

"Damn!" and she tried to hit me.

"And if some bloke tried messing around, I'd get a lawyer. One in a three piece suit with a leather case and a gold Rolex. That's the bar equivalent of big, sharp horns." Weena laughed all the way back.

At the house, Maddy sent Steve to see if we could drive across "at the Bend." I could hear Dog barking, so Andy must be throwing a stick or somesuch. I pulled out my cell phone but (as expected) got no signal.

"Maddy, can I use the phone? I need to make a few calls to the Alice."

"Go 'head."

So I called the hotel and changed Weena's and my reservation to Thursday and Friday. Then I got one for Charlie and Maddy, but told them to make it open, so they could stay the weekend. I asked them to try to change our air reservations. Then I called the CSIRO office and said that I was coming on Thursday afternoon with a leaseholder with interesting ideas. Then I called the bank and made sure Charlie and Maddy could see Henderson at 10 on Friday. Finally, I called my dad to get the name of the best cattle vet in the Alice. Charlie'd need that. It turned out there were only two vets in the Alice, and neither handled livestock. I made a mental note to ask Maddy who did the insemination of her cows.

Back outside, Maddy was talking to Arnie. "Who's doin' what?" she asked.

It seemed that two hands were looking after Charlie's cattle; two more were tending Maddy's; one was "mucking out the chook shit" [= clearing the chicken coop]; Cookie was picking a sheep; and the rest were "around," except for Steve checking the river crossing. "An' the kid?"