The Outback by David Clarkson Page B

of the contract. Joe pulled out a large map,
which he unfolded and placed onto the bonnet of Rhett’s ute. It had the four
fields clearly marked, but this being the outback the scale was vast. Three of
them were within one hour’s drive from the town. The other was twice that
distance away.
    ‘This last one is going
to be a tough one to complete,’ said Joe. ‘We lose an extra two hours each day
to travelling, so you’re going to have to allow for maybe just four and a half
to five lengths in a day.’
    ‘Why?’ Rhett asked.
‘We’ll just get home a little later than usual. An extra couple of hours at the
end of the day is no real hardship. Probably do those layabouts some good too,
as it would eat into their drinking time.’
    It was obvious that Joe
had already made up his mind and would not be budged, but that never stopped
Rhett. Arguments were not about winning or losing. To him the outcome was
always secondary to the fun of the fight involved in getting there.
    ‘Their day begins at
half past five,’ said Joe. ‘If we keep them out until seven, then by the time
they have showered and had dinner they’ll have to go straight to bed. You have
to give them time to recharge or they’ll all be burnt out long before the job’s
finished. They are only kids after all.’
    ‘You’re the boss,’
conceded Rhett.
    In twenty four hours the
Englishman would be gone so his opinion did not matter so much anyway. Rhett
looked out to the field where Sam was shamefully over compensating for the
slowness of the rookies. They really were clueless. The pommie one was the
worst of the bunch. He kept looking over his shoulder to see what those two
posh slags were doing instead of keeping his eye on what was happening ahead of
him. It could only be a matter of time before the Jap hit him with a mistimed
throw. It would certainly make Rhett’s day to see that happen and he mentally
tracked the trajectory of each wayward throw, hoping that it would be the one
to cause the damage.
    He found it a welcome
relief when morning smoko finally arrived, as he badly needed a break from
Joe’s fussing over every minor detail. All that was required of him was to
babysit a bunch of kids picking up sticks and give them a kick up the arse if
they got complacent. How difficult could that be?
    He rolled a cigarette
and placed it into his mouth.
    Where had he put his
lighter?
    He patted down the
pockets of his overalls before eventually finding it. He was always losing
them, which was a continual pain. The baccy that he rolled never stayed lit for
long and he was always having to fidget about to get it relit. He would, of
course, have preferred to have something a bit stronger in there, but never in
front of the boss.
    After the break, Joe
moved on to giving endless instructions regarding the caravan park. He talked
and talked about how it was important to give the kids their space. Space for
what exactly? Drinking and screwing was all they were likely to get up to.
Rhett planned on paying as few visits to that place as was absolutely
necessary.
    The day finally picked
up following lunch. The soppy English kid, who had spent the entire morning
trying to impress one of the skinny girls, took a hefty whack to the back of
his head from one of the Jap’s wayward throws. The ferocity of the impact had
Rhett hoping it had been a deliberate act, but that was unlikely with a bunch
as soft as this lot.
    As soon as everyone
became aware of what had happened the tractor came to a halt and they all used
it as an excuse to shy off from doing work. Joe looked to be concerned as he
jogged out to the field to investigate. He had good cause to be worried given
the lack of work being done, but no doubt the fool just wanted to check up on
the kid to see if he was okay.
    Rhett walked out to the
scene of the commotion with less urgency. This gave him time for another smoke
and a chance to survey what work, if any, had actually been achieved. He could
not believe