Friday in Summer

I had never been much of a runner, choosing music over PE whenever there was a chance. I was a creditable batsman and spin-bowler in the school’s second eleven, but this required only occasional bursts of speed. Nothing had prepared me for the joy of running in the Valley.

The ground in the forest was soft, but soon all that slowed us down was looking to be sure that we placed our feet/paws on relatively level ground. The rest was delight. I told my body to run, lifted my forearms to the requisite position and lifted my feet one after the other, prepared for the hard slog of coordinating the limbs. In the past the management of legs and arms was what had made it impossible for me to fulfill my PE teacher’s instructions, but here, it was no longer the case. Every time I placed my foot on the ground my strength was renewed so I didn’t need to call on my limited reserves. After a few strides, I found all my attention could be given to making arms and legs move in a masterfully coordinated way.

We were well into the forest before Jasper stopped. I had taken a quick look behind as we entered the forest. Browne and his father were not as far behind as I would have liked. Father and son both ran like young men, jogging, but using long strides to advantage to eat up the ground. I now understood why a man of Mr Browne’s age could run like a young man in this place. I wanted to run from here to … everywhere. Once inside the darkness of the forest, I began looking about for a tree marked with the sheep’s horns. The voice of the forest whispered in the breeze. This way. This way. Didn’t help. I could hear her from all over.

I continued following the path that had opened for us. Jasper barked softly. Left. Here. He looked to be standing just behind a tree marked with the horns, amongst supple-jack and shrubs that provided very little cover. We hadn’t gone as far into the forest as I would have liked, but I could hear Browne and his father talking.

‘Just take my word for it. The dog is a bad sign.’ The older Browne was saying.

I scuttled behind the tree and the surrounding bushes seemed to grow denser in between us and the path. The leaves of the shrubs and the lower branches of the tree had moved in the most natural of ways to be between us and the path, just at the moment when the Brownes thundered past. When the sound of their arguing had disappeared into the distance, Jasper and I walked back out onto the path, the leaves returning to their previous positions.

‘What now, Jasper?’

Hurry to the Source.

‘We’ll never catch the others.’

She will wait for us.

‘Is there no other way? Couldn’t we zap across?’

He looked pained as he replied. The passing hurts the Valley. You have felt it. It will be a last resort.

I nodded, embarrassed.

The wind murmured: They return. You must hurry. I wait for the healing you will bring, Jock’s son and Friday’s pup.

I turned back the way we had come and started to run, Jasper at my side, suiting his pace to mine.

We burst out of the forest, and rounded the bottom of the tor, the cairn away up to our left. The path through the rocks was up hill, but it placed no extra burden on my body. I laughed aloud as a flash warned us that someone was using the cairn to traverse in. I could see the basket Browne had been holding on the side of the path near the river where Browne and I had met. Regretfully, I stopped running and joined Jasper behind a boulder off the track. A small broad-leafed shrub hid us from view, although we could see the river bank clearly.

A man’s voice could be heard from the direction of the cairn. ‘Browne. Where are you?’ was shouted to the world in general. The voice approached continuing to yell for the erstwhile father and son. ‘I’ll bloody kill that boy. And his father.’

As the man approached, he looked capable of doing so. He was a short man, but burly, with a florid complexion and big hands, curled into fists. I recognised Coles as he strode to the river’s edge. He found the basket, inspected it and continued yelling for the Brownes in a threatening manner. Just as he reached the water’s edge, the two ran up from behind him. The son stopped short, while the father came right up to Coles. ‘Did you see them?’

‘See who?’ Coles turned towards Mr Browne full of uncontrolled anger. The son had been wise to stop short. ‘Where the hell have you been? We’ve only this last shipment to take to the Mossman gate and we’re done.’

Mr Browne managed to get a word in. He didn’t look as scared of Coles as I thought he should have done. ‘The dog’s here. Rod says he saw the dog with a boy he knows from school.’

Coles was immediately still and focussed, like a snake before the strike. ‘Who was the boy? Not McKenzie?’ He turned to Browne, the son, and pulled him forward by his shirt front. ‘If it’s the McKenzie boy, even with the dog, it’s not a problem. Who was the boy?’

I’d never seen Browne scared. He towered over the older man, but he didn’t look as though his height was giving him any advantage. He was scared silent. His father pushed his way between them. ‘Leave my son alone, Trev. I’m out of this if you touch him.’

Coles slowly let the boy go. He eyed the older Browne. ‘There won’t be anything to be in if the dog and Douglass are here.’

‘Douglass. That’s who it was.’ Browne burst out. Now he remembers my name. I thought in dismay. The two older men turned to him. ‘He’s a year behind me in school. Plays music. A beanpole, but quite a good spin bowler. He could be really good if he worked on his fitness. Still only second eleven …’ He stuttered to a stop as the others continued to eye him, disbelief etching into their faces.

‘Douglass! The Douglass boy is inside?’ Coles was deathly quiet.

‘He said he came to look for his dog. A black and white dog. He just wanted to get back home. He didn’t look like he was much threat.’

‘Douglass doesn’t have dogs. The dog went with Rhodes, right from the beginning. If the Rhodes girl is in on this, we’re done for. We got that out of Douglass before he died.’ Coles thought for a quiet moment. I was momentarily distracted by mention of my father, but I would have to sort that out later. ‘Where did they go?’

‘They came back this way. Rod found Douglass in the river.. The dog was on the bank following him. If they were returning upstream, they can’t have got far.’ the elder Browne declared.

Coles thought for a short time, then decided. ‘Son, you take the crop through to the gate. You and Steve get the last of the shipment through. We’ll chase the boy and his dog. We should catch them before the bridge.’ He shoved the basket into Browne’s arms, and without further ado, he and the elder Browne started at an easy trot through the water and took the path upstream. It looked a well-travelled road. Browne was still for a moment. I felt almost sorry for him, but he shuddered then turned to take the path up to the cairn.

Jasper and I shared a Now what? look. I wondered how much time had passed, and whether McKenzie and Janice were beyond the bridge.

New Zealand, March 4th, 1855

‘Sure, Jock. I know you’ll take the pounamu back to the ancestors.’