To Chase the Storm: The Frontier Series 4 Read Online Free PDF Page A

man – should be sittin’ in the shade with his woman.’
    Terituba used the name given to Saul many years earlier. It was an honour to be named after the hardy tree that provided so much. For the settlers the wood of the bumbil was used for building material and fence posts. For the Aborigines it was a tree from which were made the wooden weapons of war and hunting. Saul was a man who understood both worlds, and together the old Kalkadoon warrior and young stockman conspired to guide Ben back to the tiny ramshackle homestead that nestled in the encroaching scrub of the dusty plains north of Cloncurry.
    When the four men rode in just on sunset they were met by a solitary figure. Standing near the tank stand, a short distance from the bark slab hut that was home for Saul and his father, the well-dressed young man was covered in dust but beamed with delight at the horsemen, who now broke into a gallop to reach him.

    ‘Hey, Jonathan! What are you doing out here?’ Saul whooped as he brought his mount to a sideways halt beside his brother. ‘You get sick of city life?’ Swinging himself from the saddle, Saul embraced him in a crushing bear hug.
    ‘Time came when I thought I should see you both. After all, it’s been three years,’ Jonathan replied with some effort. ‘I need to talk to you and Dad. Uncle Solomon sent me.’
    Saul stepped back from his brother. The mention of Solomon’s name caused an ominous shiver of concern. It had to be about the property.
    ‘What’s Uncle Solomon want with us?’ Saul asked suspiciously, but his brother ignored the question as he greeted his father and nodded to Terituba and Jacob.
    Ben led the way to the hut to recover a precious bottle of gin he had stored for special occasions, while Terituba and his son led the horses away to be brushed down and yarded. The visit of his son guaranteed the bottle would be emptied that night.
    Inside the hut the air was hot and oppressive so once the bottle was found the three men went out to the makeshift verandah, a bark shingle lean-to held up by two rickety posts. They sat down on logs that passed as chairs while the patriarch of Jerusalem poured three tumblers of gin.
    ‘Mazltov,’ Ben said, raising his glass.
    Jonathan cast his father a curious look. ‘I have never heard you say that before, Father,’ he commented. ‘Have you come back to our ways?’
    ‘Maybe not as much as I should have,’ Ben replied as he took a long swig on the fiery liquid, causing hiseyes to water. ‘A man has a lot of time to think out here under God’s heavens.’
    Jonathan nodded. He was a devout man who donated to the Synagogue whenever possible. Working in the vast enterprises accumulated by his uncle over the years had made him prosperous. He could easily afford a nice home in one of Brisbane’s more affluent suburbs. Jonathan turned to his brother. ‘Have you also come back to our ways?’
    Saul gave his brother a cheeky grin. ‘Me? My religion is Kalkadoon, so I guess you would consider me no better than one of your philistines.’
    ‘You should not joke about such things, Saul. Our religion is very important to our identity.’
    ‘Out here most people know me as one of the best stockmen in the district. That’s my identity. Maybe you need religion to know who you are, but I don’t. I know who I am and where I belong.’
    Jonathan’s audible sigh of disapproval annoyed Saul. He could be a toffy bastard when he wanted to, he thought. Always wanted to be a city man.
    Ben moved to check the animosity between his two sons, who from birth had been like chalk and cheese. ‘How is little Becky?’ he interjected. ‘Has she plans to marry her young man?’
    ‘Becky is fine. She plans to marry David in six months. He is doing very well in his position in the bank in Brisbane,’ Jonathan replied. ‘The ceremony will be in the Synagogue.’
    ‘Ahh . . . A Jewish banker then, is her young man,’ Ben said, teasing his serious son. ‘She will be