starvation.
No wonder Carla was so upset.
The Fiamis are going to shoot their sheep.
âStop,â I yelled, running after the ute, âyou donât have to, the droughtâs gunna be over soon.â
They were too far away to hear.
Thatâs why Iâm hurrying out to their place.
To try and let them know.
I just wish their place wasnât so far away on foot.
Anyway, Doug, you can see how relieved theyâll be when you end the drought.
If I can get there in time.
And even if I canât there are heaps of other families like them.
So if youâre having doubts, donât.
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As soon as I got to the Fiamisâ fence, I saw them.
Sheep.
Skinny and dusty and not in a very good mood, but alive.
Yes, I thought, Iâm in time.
And even though my feet hurt and my face was burning and I had dried tomato sludge on my neck, I jumped over the fence with a whoop of joy.
The sheep took a few steps back.
âGâday,â I said to the sheep.
They took a few more steps back.
Then a thought hit me.
What if these were only some of the sheep?
Sent over here so they wouldnât be mentally scarred by the awful violence taking place on the other side of the property.
âIs there an Enid here?â I asked.
The sheep looked at me blankly.
âHow about Roald?â
No one put up their hoof.
âPaul?â I said, âR.L.? Lousia May?â
The sheep nearest me did a poo and for a sec I thought sheâd recognised the name, but she hadnât.
I listened carefully for distant gunfire, but all I could hear was my heart pounding.
I hurried over to the house.
Luckily it was quite close to the fence, only about two kilometres, so I was there in about fifteen minutes.
There didnât seem to be anybody around.
I still couldnât hear any gunfire, so I crept round to the back of the house hoping I wouldnât run into anything bad.
Like dead sheep.
Or Mrs Fiami pointing a gun at me.
Or Carla with a giant can of tomatoes.
I didnât run into any of those.
What I ran into made me stare and blink to make sure my eyes were working properly.
It was a boat.
The first boat Iâd ever seen in real life apart from on telly.
I went over to it.
It was pretty big, longer than Dadâs four-wheel drive probably, with yellow and blue paint that was peeling off and a cabin with a window and a windscreen wiper.
And it was propped up on bricks.
âDonât touch that!â yelled a voice.
Carla came out of the house scowling.
I was relieved to see she didnât have any vegetables with her.
Thatâs my Dadâs,â she said. âGet away from it.â
I got away from it and remembered why I was there.
âHave you done it yet?â I asked anxiously.
My mouth was drier than a garden hose.
âDone what?â said Carla.
âShot the sheep,â I said.
Carla didnât blink behind her curls.
âWeâre waiting a couple of days,â she said. âMumâs gunna plead with the bank one more time to lend us more money for sheep feed.â
âYou donât have to,â I said. âThe droughtâll be over any day. Dougâs fixing it.â
Carla stared at me, still not blinking.
She seemed to be in shock.
I tried to help her snap out of it.
âSo,â I said, âwant to come swimming?â
âI hate swimming,â she said.
I tried to think what to say next.
âPrefer sailing, eh?â I said weakly.
âI hate sailing,â she said.
We looked at each other.
âPlus,â she said, âI hate bull.â
For a sec I didnât know what she meant.
âAngel bull,â she said with a scowl.
Donât take it personally, Doug, she was upset.
âDid you think angels were bull when you had one?â I asked her.
She had a think.
Her eyes went darker and glintier and I knew they were filling with tears.
âNot at first,â