Terence let his breath out in a long sigh of relief and then glanced at the drip. ‘Can you hook a fresh one up and then light a couple of the lamps, Paddy? We’ve got a fair way to go yet, and it’s getting dark under here.’

As he eased his back and prepared to begin suturing the torn ligaments and muscles in Ross’s midriff, he heard the sound of motors, the whinnying of horses, the barking of dogs and the lowing of cattle – and then the approach of a galloping horse. ‘I told you to keep them away,’ he said sharply.

‘It’s Jim Rider from Wallaby Creek,’ said Mike, ‘and he insists on talking to you.’

There was something in his tone that made Terence look up. ‘Tell him I’m busy,’ he snapped.

‘Then you’d better get on with it, mate,’ said Jim, his head appearing between the stretcher and the tarpaulin. ‘There’s a fire back there and it’s heading this way faster than a bloody train.’

Terence looked over the other man’s shoulder and beyond the cavalcade of trucks, horses, wagons and the scrub cattle that were being herded past by several dogs – through the dust they kicked up – to the distant horizon.

What he saw sent a chill to his very core, for above the bush canopy there swirled great plumes of smoke, and even at this distance, he could see the red glow of fire at its heart.

He looked back at Jim. ‘How bad is it?’ he managed.

‘I’ve lost everything, and so have me neighbours. We’re heading for Morgan’s Reach, and I’d advise you to do the same.’

‘This man can’t be moved,’ he said flatly. ‘But we’d appreciate some drinking water.’

‘I’ve got plenty spare you can have,’ he muttered, ‘but you’re bloody mad to stay out here.’

As he rode off to fetch one of the large containers of water from the back of a ute, Terence regarded his three companions. ‘I can’t leave Ross,’ he said quietly, ‘but I don’t expect you to risk your lives by staying here. If you want to go with Rider, then don’t hesitate to say so.’

The three men looked at each other, and Paddy spoke for them all. ‘Reckon we owe it to Ross to see him right,’ he drawled. ‘Do what you have to, Doc. But make it quick, can ya? Only that bugger’s moving closer by the bloody minute.’

Terence was only partially aware of Rider returning with the container of water, and of the sound of his fleeing family and neighbours fading into the distance. He was delicately stitching sinew and muscle, one eye on the amount of anaesthetic dripping through into Ross’s vein, his senses attuned to the man’s breathing. The pulse was becoming slightly ragged, the heartbeat a little more laboured. He would have to hurry.

*