Rose and Mrs McKenzie were sitting on a green log by the fire, dividing the remaining oil into fresh pots of herbs mixed with a hunk of tree fungi that Mrs McKenzie had noticed the day before, when the dogs barked a warning. Both women edged closer to each other till they were back to back. Mrs McKenzie slowly reached into the big sack behind the log. Rose slid her hand down her trousers till she found her knife.

The men dismounted laughing, two guns pointing at them. Mrs McKenzie shuddered, leaning back as if in fear. The dogs growled, looking puzzled, waiting for the signal to attack. It didn’t come: Mrs Mack knew the men would shoot them if they tried.

‘The younger one’s mine,’ said the biggest of the men, hairy all over, his shirt and his trousers so stiff she was sure they’d never been washed.

‘Reckon we take turns,’ said the next. He carried a musket, as old as he was probably, but it would do its job.

Mrs McKenzie’s Lee–Enfield spat. Two shots only, two men down, the two that held the guns, red roses blooming from their faces.

The third man stared, then lunged for one of the fallen guns as Mrs McKenzie hurried to reload. Rose sprang. Leaped for his shoulders, clung on as the man staggered up, pointing the ancient musket at Mrs McKenzie. Rose slashed his throat as he aimed, then scrambled off him as he fell. He died, gurgling, before she had caught her breath.

It was easier to kill a man than an emu.

It was only then that she began to tremble.

Mrs McKenzie looked emotionlessly at the bodies, then at the horses, stamping and snorting at the noise and smell of blood. ‘Better get rid of the bodies. Don’t want the men to see them. No need to worry them.’

She breathed deeply for a few seconds, then added, ‘Pity about their horses: they’d fetch a bob or two, but we’d better drive them off. People might ask questions, recognise them. Have to explain them to McKenzie too.’

Why was it so important McKenzie didn’t know? Rose wondered. ‘What . . . what will we do with the bodies?’

‘Get out of it!’ Mrs McKenzie yelled at the dogs as they snuffled closer to the men. ‘That big hole we passed on the way here?’ she said to Rose. ‘Old mine shaft. Tie them up and drag them there with our horses. You use your whip to get the other nags well away from here. Here.’ Mrs McKenzie passed Rose the billy of tea, cold now, and sweetened. ‘Reckon Tiger’s been talking,’ she added. ‘These blokes knew just where we were. Don’t say anything to him or Clancy or McKenzie though. Tiger talks when he’s drunk, but he’s not drunk often, and he’s a good man. One thing to remember, girl,’ she added.