McTavish spent several minutes examining the bodies of Sean and Ellen O’Rourke by lantern light. When he was finished, he said, ‘We’ll get your folks inside. Why don’t you go and see to the horses, laddie? Me and Barraworn can take care of your ma and pa. Then, if you can show me where these fellows rode into the bush, I won’t bother you any more tonight.’

Toby nodded and hurried in the direction of the horse yard. He knew the horses were fine, but McTavish had noticed the look on his face and had given him an excuse to get away while his parents’ bodies were moved into the homestead. Tears were welling in his eyes and he didn’t want the policeman to see him cry. Seeing his parents, his once vibrant, happy, hopeful parents, reduced to two lifeless lumps under bed sheets, consumed his emotions. Six hours ago it had been a normal Sunday, like the one before it and the one before that. Right about now he should be helping his mother clean up after dinner, listening to his father tell a story from the wicker chair on the verandah. Six hours ago his life had been full. Now there was nothing but a hollowness growing inside him

Blinded by tears, he ran headlong into the rails of the horse yard, hitting them hard and sprawling onto the ground. Winded, he struggled to breathe and pushed his face into his arms. The warm night felt oppressively heavy. When he had his breathing back under control, he tried to climb to his feet, but the grief hit him fully and forced him back down. His knees sank into the dusty earth and he tilted his head back, discovering the stars as if for the first time in his life. The evening seemed to taunt him with its display of peacefulness.

Oh, Ma . . . Pa. What am I going to do now?

The stars dissolved behind a watery veil of tears and he slashed at them savagely. Somewhere off in the distance a sheep let out a mournful bleat. The sound of it steeled him. Through his grief he wondered if another dingo was out there, stalking one of his mother’s lambs this time. The thought reminded him that he still had responsibilities.

Standing from the rail, Toby squared his shoulders and wiped the tears from his face. By the light of the verandah lantern he could see that McTavish and Barraworn had taken his father’s body inside and were now carrying the dead bushranger to the tack shed. He glanced once more at the stars and started for the homestead.

With lantern in hand, he led McTavish and Barraworn down to the slip rails. They climbed through the gap between and he took them to where the bush overhung the track.

‘About here I reckon. This is where I last saw them.’