There were six times as many men as jobs in the colonies just now, which was why his abrupt departure from the shearing crew had made no waves at all. They’d soon fill his spot. But Clancy was willing to work for his keep, for a while at least and, unlike most drovers, he had letters of recommendation, including one from Mr Griggs.

‘And if they don’t take you on?’ asked Andrew Paterson.

Clancy grinned. ‘Reckon me and the river will just keep chatting to ourselves for a while.’

Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Finding water in the bush

Cattle usually drop their dung after drinking, not on their way to water. There’s no point following cattle tracks without droppings and hoping to find they lead to water.

NEW SOUTH WALES, 1883

CLANCY

He no longer rode like a gentleman. His was a stockman’s saddle, big enough to hold you if you fell asleep. Nor, mostly, did he control Big Red, the horse he’d won in a game of drunken dice a year back — though Clancy had not been drunk as the other players were, which was probably why he won most of the time. He felt slightly guilty about that, but he and Big Red suited each other.

The mare knew what she was doing, and Clancy mostly left her to it, Big Red thinking horse thoughts and Clancy now able to go whole days hardly thinking at all, not remembering, not grieving, just enjoying the thud of hoofbeats, noting the change in bird calls as they passed from dry forest to damp gully, laughing when six birdsongs from one branch proclaimed the singer a lyrebird, stopping to pick up an eagle’s father to wear in his hat.

He found McKenzie’s trail after a two-week ride — not hard to track a mob of cattle, not when the wind was from the north and you could smell their droppings a day’s ride away. It was dusk when he came upon them, a herd of about six hundred, just as Roger Griggs had said.

Clancy glanced around, carefully casual. McKenzie knew his business. The cattle were bound by a rope fence with white rags tied to it, enough to keep a docile mob in. And these animals were docile. They knew that tomorrow the humans would lead them to fresh grass and fresh water. They had no reason to stray. Two dogs, black but with a look of dingo about them, barked twice to make sure the humans noticed the intruder, then settled back to gnaw at lumps of meat.

Tonight’s water was a pool in what had been a small river, tumbling over rocks, and one day might be again. As Clancy watched, a man and a youth herded a dozen cows with their calves back to the main herd, then fetched another group to drink.