New Blood
They had left early, as the first hint of lemon began to imbue the landscape with delicate color. The day promised fair weather and a light breeze. The men were mostly well-rested and in good spirits, though they were well aware they were about to enter the toughest leg of the expedition. The home run to their base camp across the unforgiving nothingness. There was so much that could go wrong to jeopardize all their efforts and dreams.
The initial turn inland from the river had been harrowing and full of surprises. Though only a short distance until the terrain evened out as it approached the lifeless desert, the path became fraught with difficulty. Bennett had deemed it wise to try and take the trail that still remained, snaking across the wide flats and into the dunes. The others had also agreed it was probably the best course. However, it had been many years since that track had been traveled by anything more than foot traffic, and wild pigs.
Predictably the path was rough, and in places it completely disappeared beneath the shifting sands and marginal undergrowth, leaving the men to try and scout the best path forward. Progression was slowed to a crawl. Though the river had been kind to them, it appeared leaving its banks would not be.
Nathan was tired, he had not slept at all. Initially, he had attempted to sleep, that was until the wretched dreams began. He was cursed and spat at by the terrible and frightening being who stood over him, casting black shadows and a vitriolic rage. Nathan was so fearful, that he woke almost immediately after the dream had begun. His jade eyes wide, staring upward to the starry night above. He spent the remainder of the night too afraid to return to his rest. So today was doubly taxing on his tired body and senses. Worse still, he now had a dull ever-present headache in his temples, and he moved sluggishly behind the loaded dray.
Will almost trod on a deadly red-belly black snake, it was just dumb luck he was not bitten, the tough hide of his long boots and gaiters saving him from the snake's swift strike. A reminder not to be careless in this place.
They had to go very carefully on such a rough trail, and by evening they still had not reached where the river flats ended and the desert truly began. So they settled down to camp and lit a small fire. Tomorrow they would tackle the last of the difficult terrain whilst fresh; besides the exhausted horses had clearly had enough.
Dwayne had shot a kangaroo, and was deftly relieving it of its hide, they would roast the best cuts on the fire. The horses stood heads down, the animals were tired from the rough day, tethered to a coolibah tree, its rough, dull, gray bark made it look as though it had been cast from concrete.
Nathan sat down in the dirt, feeling somewhat nauseous and faint from lack of sleep. He rubbed at his throbbing temples and tried to adjust his blurred vision. He hoped that tonight he would be too tired for dreaming, and tomorrow would be a better day.
Yet the dreams came, the demonic specter lectured Nathan on his disobedience, and warned him that the next time he visited, the young man would do as he was told!
*****
The morning was warm, there were no traces of fleeting frost that often accompanied the chill nights of spring, and that could only mean one thing. The heat was coming, and they had little time to reach the fortress before the worst of the heat set in. The men harnessed the horses again in their traces, and the slow procession resumed.
By midday, the party had found themselves axle-deep in stinking, sticky mud, the horses foundering in the mire unable to pull the cart from its predicament. So they had to unload it. This was a bad case scenario, one Bennett had feared. The flats looked dry and solid to the untrained eye, but the recent floods had caused them to become a treacherous sea of mud. The animals struggled vainly to pull the unloaded cart from its predicament, the men strained and pushed to assist the animals. They were making so much noise they didn't realize it had attracted another set of eyes.
Bennett looked up with a start, his hand automatically racing to the butt of his Sig, but he declined to draw the weapon. He was not usually surprised in this way, neither were his men. The urging of the horses ceased. All eyes were on the rangy young man who stood a short distance away watching on.
"Can I help? Those horses really are not the most ideal for that heavy load Mister."
Bennett let his hand leave his weapon, and his men mirrored his action.
"Unfortunately they are all we have." Bennett answered him.
The young man walked down from the sandy hillock interspersed with dry grass, he was barefoot, and his clothing was threadbare and several sizes too small for him. Although he had seen the men reach for their weapons, he appeared confidently unafraid.
"I'm Josh Mitchelmore." He shook Bennett's hand with a strong grip, and his clear blue-eyed gaze did not falter as he appraised the group of dangerous-looking travelers.
"Wezley Bennett." Bennett answered, assessing the man's bright blue gaze, that he may read better perhaps the intentions that lay beneath. Josh gave off the appearance of an impetuous youth who would not be averse to danger. Bennett at once recognized a similarity with his younger self, and he liked what he saw there. A fierce young man who did not back away from danger, and possibly something darker, and unnamed lay behind his eyes as well.
"Our home is not far Mr...er Wezley. Just up there and over that dune. I know it's only midday, but perhaps the horses need to be unhitched, watered and rested. I have something far better we could harness to that cart to retrieve it." He pointed northwest into the dunes.
Bennett looked where the lad had pointed, but he could see nothing there to denote habitation, except for an old barbed wire fence, that mostly lay in ruin. He then cast an eye over his already tired men, the day was warm, and the horses were spent. To push them further would be foolhardy.
"Lead the way." He said to the young man, but not before turning and imparting his orders to the others. "Todd, Will, Dwayne, I want you to stay with the load, and be vigilant."
Josh helped the men unhitch the tired horses, he worked quietly and confidently with the animals, with a method born of practice. He then led the way, as Bennett, Gareth, Pig, and Nathan followed him into the dunes.
Josh's modest stone and tin home was indeed not far. It was reminiscent of many of the homes that were built in the area in the 1800s. Solid stone wall construction a good foot or more in thickness, with wood eaves, hardwood floors, a corrugated iron roof, a rear lean-to, and a single veranda that ran down the front face of the building. A few chickens dotted the dry yard, a rusted tank sat next to the structure holding precious rainwater, and a corral made of felled and interlocking Mallee wood stood to one side of the building. Two sturdy Hereford bullocks stood quietly in the shade of the home, idly swishing flies with their tasseled tails.
Josh walked up to the two resting beasts, "Bruno and Brutus here can get that cart out easily, but we need to wait until it's cooler." He scratched at one of the bullock's white curled polls, the animal clearly enjoying the attention.
All Bennett and his men saw was prime beef being wasted.
The group turned abruptly at the sound of stumbling footsteps coming from somewhere behind them. The lad also barefoot was trying to remove a painful three-corner jack from the sole of his dirty foot, hopping about and grimacing in pain.
Josh was not slow on the introductions. "Oh, this is my brother Louis. Louis this is Wezley, he and his men got into some trouble with their cart in the river flats."
Louis was a good three years younger than his brother Josh, by Bennett's estimation he was about fifteen. He had the same dirty blonde hair and vibrant blue eyes.
"Hi," was all he said.
