Riverboat Point by Tricia Stringer

on Yorke Peninsula where they’d spend two glorious weeks, swimming, crabbing, fishing and living under canvas. Blake had called it their gypsy caravan and the name had stuck. As they got older the two of them had learnt to drive it. Helping his father tinker under the old truck’s bonnet was probably where Ethan developed his interest in engines.
    â€œWhat are you smiling about?”
    Mal’s question brought him back. Ethan turned to look into his father’s eyes. There was a softness in his face Ethan hadn’t seen for a long time. Was he remembering those good times too?
    â€œIt’s a wonder it still goes after what we put it through.”
    Mal slapped the door of the truck. “They were built to last back then.”
    They were both silent.
    One of the dogs gave a short bark.
    Mal stepped back. “Rust’ll get her eventually,” he said sharply. “Like a cancer, it eats away.”
    He strode back to the ute.
    â€œBlake’s coming out of hospital tomorrow,” he said when he reached the driver’s door. “He’s busted his arm pretty badly and the burn on his leg was bad. He’ll be staying with us for a bit.”
    â€œI’ll keep an eye on things here.”
    Mal gave a sharp nod. “Don’t forget to put your hours in.”
    Ethan opened his mouth then closed it again.
    Mal was already climbing into the cab.
    Ethan turned away as the dust from the moving vehicle swirled around him. “Nice talking to you, Dad.” He tapped his hand on the side of the truck. “Where were we, Gypsy?”
    By the time he reached home the cloudy sky was orange and pink and the trees across the river were throwing black shadows over the water. Jasper was pleased to see him. Ethan only locked him up if he was going to be away all day. The enclosure took up most of the space under the house and was kitted out with everything the dog needed.
    â€œCome on, mate,” Ethan said as he opened the gate.
    He grasped the dog either side of its face and gave it a playful tussle.
    â€œLet me check on the curry and we’ll go for a quick walk.”
    Ethan could smell the curry before he opened the door. The delicious aroma from the slow cooker made his mouth water. At least tonight he’d be able to eat at a decent hour. He’d put in three full days’ work at the farm since he’d left Blake in the hospital. The first two nights he’d been late home and it had taken a while to prepare his meal. He’d dozed in the chair and then he’d been restless, unable to sleep until the early hours of the morning. Determined to break that pattern and be more organised, he’d set the curry going before he left this morning.
    He turned the cooker off then filled a glass with water and drank it down in a few gulps. Even though the outside temperature was still warm he picked up his jumper. Once the sun went down the night would quickly turn cold. Just as he stepped out onto his back landing Jasper began to bark in the tone that meant visitors.
    â€œDamn,” Ethan muttered.
    He looked down the stairs to Jasper who was facing the side fence. Ethan sighed. Not visitors, he was guessing it was Savannah. His back steps were screened from Jaxon’s shack by the little garden shed on Jaxon’s side of the fence. The fence was only chicken wire. There’d been no need for anything permanent. It was just to mark the boundary for the dog.
    â€œJasper, sit,” Ethan commanded as he went down the stairs. Once his head was lower than floor level he could see her outline in the fading light. She was standing back from the fence, no doubt wary of Jasper. There was no longer a jungle of weeds on her side. He hadn’t even noticed when he’d come home. She must have had the mower out.
    â€œYou’ve been busy,” he said as he reached ground level. “You managed to start Jaxon’s archaic mower.”
    â€œIt took a