Paddy wanted to talk and had tried to do so, if only to placate Toby’s fears. But each time the fire had begun in his head, building as he tried to form words with his mouth. If he persisted, tried to fight through it, then the fire would engulf his mind and star his vision. Sometimes his wound ached for no reason, but if he tried to speak, the agony was almost enough to kill him. The only way to keep the pain in check was to stay silent.

‘You’ve been busy.’ Toby walked up and stood beside him.

Paddy smiled and nodded.

‘Good job, too, matey. It needed doing. Maybe we should make a wooden cross, just to make do until we get the cattle to the diggings and some money in the purse. Then we’ll find a stonemason and have a proper headstone made. What do you think, Pad?’

Paddy nodded again, a broad grin lighting his face. In the past few days Toby had learned to ask yes or no questions so that Paddy could answer with a simple nod or shake of his head. They were learning to communicate quite well, despite the one-sided conversations.

‘Let’s go down and find some boards. We can get the cross done before dinner time. Then we have to decide what to do about the cattle. We can’t leave them penned up like this, they’ve eaten down all the grass. Soon they’ll start to lose condition. We have to either take them to the diggings or down to the sale yards in Geelong.’

Paddy nodded again as they wandered down the hill together. Most evenings Toby spoke about his plans for the farm, which were really their parents’ plans. As the eldest, he had taken on the mantle of responsibility, which suited Paddy fine. Since Toby had turned eighteen, Paddy noted that their father had been including him more and more in decisions about the running of the property. Though neither brother attended the little class Mrs Gutten ran in the back of the store any more, Toby had been the one who excelled at numbers and had often been called upon by their father to add up a bill of sale or calculate the value of a mob of cattle at the sale yards.

‘You know, Pad,’ Toby said as they descended the ridge, ‘We can do this, you and me. We can run this place and make a good living, just the way Ma and Pa did.’

Paddy smiled and felt a little of the hollowness ease from his soul. His big brother had always been his hero. Since the moment he could walk he had followed Toby like a faithful puppy, wanting to be just like him. And Toby had always been there for him, to help him with an onerous chore or to convince their father that he wasn’t a baby any more, that he could be trusted to chase down a bolter from a mob of cattle or was big enough to learn to shoot the Lovell. Paddy knew his inability to speak grated heavily on Toby. But he also knew his brother would stand beside him and help him through this problem – however long it lasted.