‘Ah! Nice work.’ Their father nodded his head. ‘Well, your mother will be pleased. This old dog won’t be raiding her chooks any more.’ He dropped the pelt onto the verandah boards. ‘We can cure this later.’ His hand shot out and gripped Toby’s chin, the thumb rubbing his right cheek. ‘The cap from the Lovell has left a little mark on your face, Toby. Best you go and wash it off.’

Toby felt the acid of despair in his stomach. As his father rubbed at his cheek, he turned his eyes towards Paddy. His brother still had that triumphant grin on his face, and the mark left by the flash of the firing cap was plain to see against his tanned skin.

‘Paddy? You best wash yours off, too. Then you can come and help me take a hind quarter off a side of mutton for your mother to roast. Go now,’ he barked, and Paddy turned and ran to where the washstand stood behind the homestead, his hand rubbing at his cheek.

Toby felt the grip tighten on his chin and he looked up at his father. Sean O’Rourke’s eyes were fixed firmly on him. There was a hint of anger in the steel-blue depths, but his father’s beard hid the set of his mouth.

‘Who taught you to shoot, Toby?’

‘You did, Pa.’

‘Are you a good shot, boy?’

‘I like to think so, Pa.’

‘Oh, you do, do you?’ The eyes lightened a little and creased at the corners. ‘So, if you’re such a good shot, then you must’ve had a good teacher.’

‘Yes, Pa.’

‘But not good enough to teach your brother how to shoot.’

Toby wanted to turn away, to look anywhere but at his father, but the grip on his chin was firm. ‘Pa, he was pleading with me. I did it more to shut him up than anything else. You know what Paddy’s like when he gets to whining about something.’

Sean ignored the tone in his son’s voice. ‘Toby, when I let you use the gun, I place it into your responsibility. My rules then become your rules.’

‘Yes, Pa.’

‘Oh, “Yes, Pa”, is it now? It wasn’t “Yes, Pa” when you let Paddy use the gun.’

‘I’m sorry, Pa.’

The hand dropped and Toby rubbed at his chin as he waited for his father to decide what his punishment would be.

‘Your mother is cooking a roast for tonight’s dinner. She needs the wood box by the kitchen door kept topped up with a good supply. In between cutting wood, you can help her in the kitchen. Peeling potatoes, stripping cabbage, whatever she needs.’

‘Yes, Pa.’

‘And you won’t be using the Lovell for a while. From now until Paddy turns sixteen. You can both wait.’