The Outback by David Clarkson

whilst signalling for his father to
kill the engine.
    ‘Who wants to unhook the
trailer?’ he asked.
    Although Jonas was the
closest, he made no effort to volunteer himself, so Matt stepped forward. If
first impressions counted, he decided that he may at least try to look keen on
his first day at work. Paul explained the procedure to him. The trailer was
released by pulling a simple leaver, but the real skill was in the timing. Once
the connection was broken it was imperative to get out of the way as quickly as
possible. The tractor would reverse, which tipped the trailer into an upright
position, depositing its contents onto the dry soil. When all of the wood was
offloaded, Sam would accelerate forward to right the trailer, which was then
reattached by pulling the lever in the opposite direction. With practice the
sequence could be completed in mere seconds.
    ‘Too easy,’ declared
Matt, proudly displaying his grasp of the Aussie vernacular as well as the
instructions given to him.
    ‘Don’t get cocky,’
warned Paul. ‘If you do not move out of the way before the tractor reverses,
things could get very messy. Last year a fella broke his back in a tractor
accident not too far from here.’
    The Aboriginal’s
statement grabbed Matt’s full attention. He knew that the job would be boring,
but he never expected it to be dangerous as well.
    ‘Are such accidents
common?’ he asked.
    ‘Not the serious kind,
but you could easily lose a finger or a thumb if you aren’t quick enough.’
    ‘Are you kidding me? Is
nobody here the least bit concerned about health and safety?’
    ‘Of course,’ said Paul.
‘If you die it can take up to a week for the boss man to get a replacement. A
lot of work can be lost in a week.’
    Matt had no response. He
was completely dumbfounded by Paul’s remarks, much to the amusement of the
young Aboriginal.
    ‘You white fella’s are
priceless,’ Paul said, before giving the Englishman a reassuring pat on the
back. ‘With dad driving that tractor you have nothing to worry about. He’s done
this most of his life and he never hit nobody yet.’
    ‘Glad to hear it,’
replied a much relieved Matt. ‘We should probably make up a rota though. It’s
only fair that everyone gets their turn.’
    By the time the second
load was filled the group had been working for close to two hours so they took
the opportunity to have their first break. Talk immediately turned toward the
stranger who would be taking charge the next time that they started work.
    ‘Have any of you seen
that guy before?’ asked Colin, who then lit a cigarette before taking a
prolonged drag.
    ‘He’s never been here
while we were working,’ replied Stephen, who took the lighter from Colin.
‘There is something familiar about him though, that I cannot quite place.’
    ‘I don’t trust him,’ said
Colin. ‘I think he’s an ex-con.’
    All eyes turned toward
the Australian. Rhett was in his early fifties, but could have passed for
twenty years above that. It was fair to say that the years had not been kind to
him. His skin was worn and creased, with thick grey stubble spread over it like
moss on the bark of a tree. From this unkempt mess around his mouth, a small
white stick was visible.
    ‘He looks more like a
cop,’ said Matt. ‘Didn’t Kojak used to suck on a lollipop like that?’
    ‘That’s not a lollipop stick,’
said Colin. ‘It’s a cigarette.’
    ‘That’s ridiculous. It’s
much too small to be a cigarette. How could anybody even roll one that small?’
    ‘Like I said; I think
he’s an ex con.’
    Matt failed to make the
connection that his friend had.
    ‘So he’s running low on
tobacco. That’s not illegal, is it?’
    ‘It’s a prison rollie.
Convicts always roll them that tightly. Obviously it’s a habit that sticks.’
    Matt still failed to
make a connection.
    ‘I think you’re just
being paranoid. You can’t go accusing people of things because of the way they
roll their cigarettes.