droppings that covered everything: the tins of unrubbed tobacco, Rizzo papers and then, to her right, folded dusty jeans and hats and belt buckles that had lost their shine. There were more books like the ones sheâd found in the house: cowboy stories for one dollar. The covers reminded her of the posters that advertised what was on at the drive-in in the town where she grew up. A shadow crossed the doorway. It was John. Perhaps she should talk to him, answer his question.
âWhat are you doing?â she called as she stepped back into the light.
âIâve got jobs to do,â he said over his shoulder.
The children were running through the sprinkler.
Determined to stand
tall on the untamed
frontier
I
Laura learnt to ride on a tight rein, her horse circling an instructor in a small well-kept yard located on the edge of Greater London and on some maps it was probably considered to be in the county of Hertfordshire. The instructor repeated many times how Laura was to hold her hands, and what she was to do with her feet, toes pointed forwards, elbows close to her sides. When Laura accepted a job as a jillaroo soon after arriving in a small town in the far north of Western Australia, she wondered if the station horses would respond to the same commands.
She was driven out to the station sandwiched between the manager, who she had just met, and the new head stockman, a man surprisingly called Texas, and on the back of the same utility were two other men who were going to work as stockmen.
They passed through country that looked like the African landscape sheâd seen as a child in a TV program called Daktari, and reached the station homestead after dark, the ute pulling up in front of a fence. A woman was standing beneath the light on the veranda. Laura was relieved to discover that she was not the only female. She hadnât expected the trip to take so long.
The silences between the men made it longer. Even though the woman at the hostel had known of John and the place he managed, thereâd been too much time for ideas to creep into her mind and make her uneasy.
As the light had left the country they were driving through, it had begun to feel more foreign. Occasionally John, the manager, would ask Texas a question and when Texas replied he seemed to be laughing to himself, but even when she listened closely she couldnât hear anything funny about what heâd just said. John told Texas she was from England. Texas made a small noise in the back of his throat and looked out the window.
âShe can ride,â added John.
Texas glanced at her and back at the windscreen, a slight nod, and then she saw that he was grinning.
âMaybe ride one of them buckjumpers eh?â
She smiled warily, unsure whether to laugh or not.
The woman under the light stepped forward to meet them.
Laura looked back at Texas; he was watching her and then he turned and followed the other two men. They seemed to know where to go because they vanished into the darkness. She stared after them. It was the first time sheâd met an Australian Aboriginal.
After London, sheâd expected every city to be a mix of people
Texas from different places and cultures, but in Perth, surprisingly, it hadnât been like that, not where she had stayed.
John was holding the door open. He nodded towards the woman. âMy wife Susannah.â
Their eyes met, Susannahâs resting on hers briefly before they flicked across to her husband.
âAre the kids in bed?â he asked.
âYes,â Susannah croaked and cleared her voice, repeating âYesâ, more loudly.
She seemed startled and it made Laura uncomfortable since obviously Susannah wasnât expecting her. Laura searched her memory for something similar, a reference point, but there wasnât one. Instead she became aware of the silence that seemed to exist beyond the boundaries of her own experience. Sounds emerged from it, scratchy and
âWhat are you doing?â she called as she stepped back into the light.
âIâve got jobs to do,â he said over his shoulder.
The children were running through the sprinkler.
Determined to stand
tall on the untamed
frontier
I
Laura learnt to ride on a tight rein, her horse circling an instructor in a small well-kept yard located on the edge of Greater London and on some maps it was probably considered to be in the county of Hertfordshire. The instructor repeated many times how Laura was to hold her hands, and what she was to do with her feet, toes pointed forwards, elbows close to her sides. When Laura accepted a job as a jillaroo soon after arriving in a small town in the far north of Western Australia, she wondered if the station horses would respond to the same commands.
She was driven out to the station sandwiched between the manager, who she had just met, and the new head stockman, a man surprisingly called Texas, and on the back of the same utility were two other men who were going to work as stockmen.
They passed through country that looked like the African landscape sheâd seen as a child in a TV program called Daktari, and reached the station homestead after dark, the ute pulling up in front of a fence. A woman was standing beneath the light on the veranda. Laura was relieved to discover that she was not the only female. She hadnât expected the trip to take so long.
The silences between the men made it longer. Even though the woman at the hostel had known of John and the place he managed, thereâd been too much time for ideas to creep into her mind and make her uneasy.
As the light had left the country they were driving through, it had begun to feel more foreign. Occasionally John, the manager, would ask Texas a question and when Texas replied he seemed to be laughing to himself, but even when she listened closely she couldnât hear anything funny about what heâd just said. John told Texas she was from England. Texas made a small noise in the back of his throat and looked out the window.
âShe can ride,â added John.
Texas glanced at her and back at the windscreen, a slight nod, and then she saw that he was grinning.
âMaybe ride one of them buckjumpers eh?â
She smiled warily, unsure whether to laugh or not.
The woman under the light stepped forward to meet them.
Laura looked back at Texas; he was watching her and then he turned and followed the other two men. They seemed to know where to go because they vanished into the darkness. She stared after them. It was the first time sheâd met an Australian Aboriginal.
After London, sheâd expected every city to be a mix of people
Texas from different places and cultures, but in Perth, surprisingly, it hadnât been like that, not where she had stayed.
John was holding the door open. He nodded towards the woman. âMy wife Susannah.â
Their eyes met, Susannahâs resting on hers briefly before they flicked across to her husband.
âAre the kids in bed?â he asked.
âYes,â Susannah croaked and cleared her voice, repeating âYesâ, more loudly.
She seemed startled and it made Laura uncomfortable since obviously Susannah wasnât expecting her. Laura searched her memory for something similar, a reference point, but there wasnât one. Instead she became aware of the silence that seemed to exist beyond the boundaries of her own experience. Sounds emerged from it, scratchy and
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