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Author bio. Peter Wise’s career began in the Queensland Public Service
and later continued in the Commonwealth arena. He commenced writing ten years ago, making crime fiction
his genre. He retired to the
Books by the same author: Chapter one The Magic of the
A lone
Kookaburra, sitting high on a dead tree, greeted the morning with its peculiar
laugh. With the sky now clear and blue, Steve took in the imposing view as far
north and south as he could see. Suddenly he heard the thump-thump of a wallaby
hopping towards him. Startled by the presence of this human, it stopped a short
distance away from him. Ears erect, it observed Steve for a moment, then turned
and disappeared back into the dense bush. Steve walked back to the camp; the
smell of the log fire, which had been burning all night, and the rising smoke
and the silence of this place – paradise.
He was
the leader of a gang who were still asleep with the women.
‘Wake up
you horny bastards. Get your hands off it. Breakfast is ready.’
The
bodies under the blankets beside the campfire totalled 12. Six of Steve’s men
and six native women from a tribe further down the mountain. Their presence with
his men brought about by exchanging six bottles of rum with ‘King
Delaney’, who the gang met some weeks ago when they crossed the Caboolture
River and made their way to this wild place on the side of a mountain yet to be
named. Steve had declined a woman and daily observed the antics of his men.
This
particular morning was no exception.
Horst
got up first. ‘Life’s good, Steve.’ The woman with him lay there naked and then
pulled the blanket over herself.
Horst
continued, ‘A lot of action here last night, fellas?’
He
pulled on his riding boots. He stood of average height, around 5ft 9 inches;
stocky in stature, with dark hair and dark brown eyes. German blood ran through
his veins. A crack shot with a rifle. His temper flared like a cyclone hitting
the coast; and an experienced horseman. Over the past months he had taught the
gang members to ride. ‘Treat your horse as your best friend.’
Bull
decided before breakfast to satisfy his woman and by the moans and groans coming
from under the blanket, both were enjoying the physical activity. The blanket
covering the two went up and down like an attempt by someone to send smoke
signals. At the finish it fell off to the side and Bull’s bare arse faced the
sunlight. The oriental face of this man told you something; piercing
almond-shaped brown eyes; the olive skin that gave one the appearance of being
suntanned forever. At just under six feet with his boots off, his body was lean
and he was mean – he would not hesitate to kill at the drop of a hat.
James,
slow to wake up, threw his blanket back and unwound himself from his woman. A
big man, over six feet in height, lean, broad shouldered, fair to blonde hair
and his eyes were a dark blue. The women, mainly those he saw in the brothels,
found him attractive. The smiling face and white teeth camouflaged a fighting
machine. He carried a
Matt
stood beside him and also helped himself to a feed. At 5ft 10 inches, of solid
build with green eyes, he had black long hair swept to both sides, which gave
him the look of a minister of the cloth. He wore a cabbage-tree-hat made from
the fan-shaped leaves of a palm. So did the other members of the gang. All were
growing moustaches and full beards. Matt’s beard was already full, long and
black. Charlie stirred under bush shelter of bark fastened with strips of
untanned hide, called greenhide. The natives called these shelters
Stringybarks. His woman was sitting up
and looking at him with a smile on her face. He may have been the shorty of the
gang, 5ft 6 inches standing in his riding boots. He, however, made up for his
shortness in other ways and the gang members all agreed that Charlie wasn’t
standing behind the door when God gave him a dick. Slim build, piggy-brown eyes,
brown-coloured hair and was going bald on top. His moustache was long and droopy
and gave him the appearance of a Mexican. He poured himself a mug of tea from
the billy-can brew over the fire.
Bob was
a lazy bloke; he liked his sleep and didn’t move under his blanket. The woman
with him made the move. She got up and walked away a short distance from the
campfire. She stood with her legs apart and with both hands parted her labia and
pissed like a man.
‘That’s
a sight I will never forget,’ Horst remarked to the group, ‘and you, Bob, an
educated man from
‘Okay
Horst, enough said.’ Bob was awake now, and he got up and pulled on his long
pants and slipped the braces over his stained night shirt. He considered himself
a sophisticated man, educated at
Steve
was the tallest of the gang standing 6ft 6 inches. He had broad shoulders and a flat stomach. His eyes were an almond
colour and he had ginger-coloured hair. Visible to anyone who cared to study his
teeth was a large gap between his two top front teeth. He had been told during
his childhood that the gap meant you would be lucky all your life. So far this
was the case. He was a born leader and he decided that this morning it was time
to plan their next bail-up.
‘Feed
your women and tell them to go back to their tribe. They know their way back
down the mountain. It’s time to work. The jiggy-jig is over for now.’
‘Do we
have to let them go?’ Charlie asked. ‘Yes.’ Click on the cart below to purchase this book:
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