The Kadaitcha Curse Page 23
It’s nearly two years since that trip to Flashing Ridge. Mum, Ebony and Abby still enjoy listening to me tell the story of our rescue from the mountain. Ebs thinks she is the hero because she told mum that I had called, after she had hung up on me. Mum is just thankful that she tried to ring back and then rang Mitch’s phone when she couldn’t get through to me.
Mitch had hurried outside when the lightning activity had increased earlier in the day. His legs got caught up in his crutches. He took a tumble down the porch steps and re-fractured his femur. Wally had put him in the helicopter and flown to the medical centre.
Mum then rang the landline to the house. Millie answered and mum told her about my call. Millie said that she already suspected that something serious was going to happen on the mountain. From the minute dad and I had driven off from the homestead, Angel had become increasingly distressed. She barked incessantly and, as Millie described it, was straining on her rope so hard that they feared she would pull the house off its stumps.
As soon as Millie hung up from Mum she left a message on Mitch’s phone saying that there was trouble on Flashing Ridge and that she was heading out to look for us. She threw a bridle on King, untied Angel and followed her as she sprinted towards the mountain.
Millie had assumed that Mitch had his phone turned off while he was in the medical centre. In fact he had left it at home in his bedroom and didn’t get the message until he and Wally returned home the following morning. That was after Millie and I had spent a pretty uncomfortable night in the cave. Dad was fine, he slept for twelve hours.
Mitch and Wally were able to land the chopper near our ute. Mitch flew dad and me two hundred and fifty kilometres to the community hospital. Wally packed up what was left of our stuff and drove our battered ute back to the farm.
Millie scouted the mountain most of the day hoping that somehow Angel had escaped and wasn’t buried under thirty metres of shredded leaves and branches. She didn’t sight her.
I’ve had plenty of time to build on dad’s research into our family history. Some bits are still unclear but I’ve managed to collect letters, copies of old newspaper cuttings, hospital records, as well as stories from some of the elders who have lived on White Bird Station or in the surrounding district. It also turns out that grandma knows a lot more than she’s ever let on. And dad was right. None of the men in the family ever reached forty years of age. Until now.
Dad’s fortieth birthday party was a rage. Dad was like a teenager. I tried not to look embarrassed. Grandma dressed up in her best clothes including the fur shawl that she always wears on special occasions, regardless of the weather. “It used be a full-length cloak,” she explained, “but bits have fallen off over the years. It’s been in the family for … well, forever. It’s possum fur, you know.”
Dad has quit smoking. All his inside bits that weren’t working properly are now fine. He’s fit and full of energy. He still travels a lot on business but when he’s home it’s good. He’s just how I remember him when I was a kid. We even play touch football in the same team most weeks. I’m pretty hopeless and it’s his turn to try to not look embarrassed.
We’ve been back to the property a few times. The great tree has new shoots and will be magnificent again. Dad has told me a lot more stuff that he never got the chance to tell me on the mountain. Take White Bird Station for instance – it turns out dad doesn’t do the accounting for the owners at all. He is the owner. He bought the property several years ago. Drought had sent the previous owners close to broke. Dad knew enough of his family history to want to reconnect with the past. So now it’s ours. The drought broke and now the property is worth a whole lot more than he paid for it.
Last time we drove through the gate leading up to the farmhouse I asked him again what the name REAL stood for.
“R.E.A.L.” He spelled it out just as he did the first time I had asked him. “It stands for everything I love in the world, Robbie.”
Anyway, Millie had a serious rethink about her objection to boarding. Her new college runs an equestrian program and they were very keen to offer a scholarship to the two-time National Barrel Racing Champion. She’s only about an hour from our place and sometimes stays over with us on weekends.
Dougie’s uncle came to our school and shared some of his stories. The principal asked him to do the Welcome to Country and perform a smoking ceremony at the opening of our new hall last year. Dougie and I helped. Dougie is amazing - he can make a didgeridoo sing. Even Anna Lonsberg was impressed.
As I think back to the events on Flashing Ridge it all seems so surreal. It’s like dad and I were meant to go there. In trying to understand what happened, and why, I even got hold of a book called Names and their Meanings and looked up Robin and Albion. It’s like that trip and the stuff that happened were part of my destiny. I don’t know. I can’t explain it.
And the pale, jagged scar on my arm is pretty cool, too. Ebony says it’s like a moustache but I go more with Abby’s description. “It’s like a bird. A white bird.”
THE END
I hope you have enjoyed reading “The Kadaitcha Curse”, my very first novel for young adult readers. You might also enjoy some of my fun poems for kids at:
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