Castaway by Joanne Van Os

Old Jock nodded in approval, his eyes misty with nostalgia.
    Sam had been brooding on the other side of the table. He fixed his uncle with a cold stare and said, ‘Well, Dad won’t be riding any horses for a while, will he?’ and then he pushed his chair back from the table and stalked out of the room.
    Everyone else sat there a bit stunned, and Old Jock said, ‘Bin outta sorts since Mac went south, that boy. Guess he’s just real worried, eh?’
    But Uncle Mungo looked shattered, and he didn’t say any more. Later, after the dishes were done and everyone had gone to bed, there was a gentle knock on Sam’s door, and George, Tess and Darcy crowded in and sat on the spare bed. Darcy had Horrible draped around his neck, to give her an airing out of the pillowcase.
    ‘Are you okay, Sam?’ George asked. ‘You practically bit his head off out there. It’s not Uncle Mungo’s fault –’
    Sam interrupted his brother savagely. ‘It is so his fault. I told you, if it wasn’t for him, Dad would be okay.’
    ‘But, Sam, I thought he lifted the tree off your dad. It was an accident ,’ said Tess.
    ‘No it wasn’t. Well, it was an accident that shouldn’t have happened. When we were at your house, the night before we came home I heard Uncle Mungo crying like a big sook and telling your mum that it was all his fault, that he said he could lift it off in one go, that if they’d cut it up like Dad wanted to, it wouldn’t have happened. He said himself it was his fault !’
    The others sat back in silence. Darcy stroked Horrible, and Tess and George looked helpless.
    Tess kicked the leg of the bed and said, by way of changing the subject, ‘Our dad’s left us, you know?’
    George stared at her open-mouthed, while Darcy just kept stroking the snake, letting it wind itself around his shoulders. Sam looked grim and nodded.
    ‘Mum thinks we don’t know. I think she’s too upset to tell us. But I heard them arguing one night last week, and then Dad was gone the next day. Mum says it’s just a business trip, but I heard him say he wasn’t coming back.’ She kept looking at the leg of the bed, and kept gently kicking it.
    ‘I know,’ said Sam. ‘I heard her tell Uncle Mungo that night we were at your place.’
    Tess looked up at Sam. ‘He’ll come back again,’ she said. ‘I know he will!’ Her eyes filled suddenly with bright tears and she gave the leg of the bed a savage kick.

The next morning Sam woke up feeling groggy and tired because he hadn’t slept properly. He yawned his way into the kitchen, where Uncle Mungo was standing at the sink with a big pannikin of tea. He looked as if he hadn’t slept very well, either.
    ‘Mornin’, Sam,’ he said.
    Sam grunted at him, something that sounded a bit like ‘Good morning’ – if you used your imagination.
    ‘I think we need to have a yarn, you and me,’ said Uncle Mungo. Just then Old Jock stomped in, followedby Darcy and Tess, who had been out feeding the chooks with him. ‘Well, maybe later then,’ said Uncle Mungo, and busied himself getting some breakfast.
    Tess smuggled some food into her room for Kalila while the others went out and caught the horses they would ride the next day. Uncle Mungo and Old Jock would each drive a bull catcher while the others rode horses around the mob. The first buffaloes they were moving were quiet cows and calves, used to being handled. Uncle Mungo said they’d wait for Marty and his boys to come out before tackling the bulls and the less quiet buffaloes.
    Tess was waiting at the horse paddock fence as the boys walked up with four horses. George was leading Gidget, a little bay mare, and Tess’s mare Shona, a pretty buckskin with a black mane and tail. Darcy followed with Toby, a chestnut gelding with a broad white blaze, and Sam brought up the rear with Havelock, the skewbald gelding he would ride instead of his grey mare Holly, whose foal was still too young to be left on his own. Holly followed Sam, and her