Slaughter at Stringybark Creek - Chapter One -
#2 of Stringybark Creek
Life was hard in the late 1870's, in the Colonial Colony of Australia's bushland. We return to Ironclad's begininings, when he was a young, scrawny Colt, trying to help his Widowed mother. They were struggling to run a small leasehold under the merciless drought that had kept a cruel grip over the land for what felt like forever.
For years, the Sargent of the nearby township of Stringybark Creek had harassed and hounded the struggling Silvermane - his hatred of the 'less than human' people well known. He was deep in the pocket of a wealthy landowner, who had run out of patience with Silvermane.
Patterson demanded the Sargent 'take matters in hand' - vis - drive the Mare off her land, one way or another. Fate had conspired to set the naive young Colt on a collision course with his destiny - one way or another -
Slaughter at Stringybark Creek Chapter One (c) Cederwyn Whitefurr 30th November, 2012 All Rights Reserved.
Silvermane wiped the back of her paw across her dusty forehead, the Palomino Mare's head lifting, as she turned her eyes heavenwards, but only the relentless blue sky shone down unceasingly, the sun baking down on the small homestead and cleared paddocks. A rough slab hut, sheathed on the roof with overlapping wooden shingles, the gaps in the rough hewn logs had been chinked with ironbark and mud, but provided little comfort from the relentless heat in summer, and the bitter cold in winter.
Their selection had been a small one, for as almost penniless, they had been forcibly emigrated here, deemed 'unsuitable' for remaining in England, who had shipped countless convicts here, a few of the landed Gentry and more than a few of people like her - a Widow at an early age, with three sons, she knew without her husband, life was going to be hard - and she started to finally realise just how hard it really was...
Her eldest son had died in a freak accident whilst felling logs to build their single room cottage, her next eldest had been bitten by a Brown Snake last spring - and her sole remaining son, a scrawny, half starved Colt - was her last living family member. He had stepped up remarkably since losing his two siblings, working countless hours beneath the blazing Australian sun. he worked from dawn to dusk, fetching water, chopping firewood, and ploughing and seeding the small adjoining paddock with an old mare who Silvermane despaired wouldn't last the coming winter.
Silvermane was proud of her son - who worked without complaint or bitterness, becoming the 'de-facto husband' for Silvermane. He had filled out remarkably due to the long, backbreaking hours he laboured in the field and around their farmstead, filling his mother with pride and joy at watching the young colt rapidly developing into the stallion he would later become.
As she watched, he dunked his head into the watering trough, throwing his head back and snorting, letting the tepid water run down his sweat lathered neck and shoulders, before he picked up the blunt axe and bent over, picking up another short length of log. Swinging the axe up over his head, Silvermane watched the iron-like muscles bunch and twist beneath his shirtless fur, dark gloved paws gripping the axe and the satisfying clunk as the blade bit deep into the log, it uttering a weak cracking sound.
Despairingly, Silvermane gazed at the wilting wheat sheaf's that she and her son had harvested a week ago - the crop was only a third of what they'd started with, and Silvermane began to fret that they'd receive a pittance for what they could manage to sort from the stalks. Her vegetable crop lay limp and almost dead thanks to the merciless summer heat, and Silvermane truly began to wonder just how they'd survive the coming winter. With only a few months left to lay in winter stores, she had no idea what they were going to do - drought had gripped the land for months, with it showing no signs of relenting any-time soon.
Little did either know, their life was to change - forever -
*
Sgt. Eric MacGoven sat astride his horse, a beautiful bay coloured gelding who stamped its hooves and snorted, tossing its proud and noble head as it champed on the bit, ears pricked forwards in anticipation. He reached up and tugged at the tight high collar, then reached across the pommel of the saddle, checking the strap that held the rifle in the polished leather holster. His brass buckles and buttons of his rich navy uniform sparkled and shone, the mid-thigh length boots polished to a blinding intensity.
Coming up behind and slightly to the left, a frightened young kangaroo dressed in similar uniform, his long ears slicked back and thin tail resting uncomfortably on the leather clad rump of the dappled grey mare on which he rode.
"Sargent - " Stammered the timid Kangaroo, as he plucked a thick handkerchief from a saddlebag and wiped his sweat streaked muzzle.
"Constable Josef Clanton! Compose yourself!" Snapped Sargent Eric MacGoven, as he twisted in the saddle astride the bay gelding, glaring at the frightened recruit..
"Yes...sir - " Stammered Josef, as he wiped the cloth over his neck. "Sir - is this really necessary, I mean they - "
"We have our orders - Constable - " Snarled Sgt. MacGoven, as he turned back in the saddle and sank his leather clad heels into the wiling gelding, sending it into an almost instant gallop.
With an exasperated, drawn out sigh, the young Constable stuffed his sweat soaked handkerchief back into the saddlebag and clucked his tongue at the mare, who obediently broke into a light canter.
*
Silvermane snorted, hearing the galloping hoof-beats, then hurriedly turned to her son, who came towards her.
"Lachlan, go inside, now!" Silvermane growled at him, waving her paw towards the door.
Obediently, the young Colt entered their slab hut cottage and Silvermane pulled the door firmly closed behind her, standing protectively before the door, her paws resting lightly on her well patched skirt. As the mounted human and kangaroo approached, her ears swept back and she kept her guarded pose, even when the Police reigned their horses in a few feet away.
"What do you want - " Silvermane snorted, eyes narrowing. "Haven't you done enough already Sargent MacGoven?"
Sitting astride the snorting gelding, the Sargent looked down disdainfully, at the dusty and dirty Palomino mare who stared up at him.
"Pleasant tidings - " Sneered the man with a barely held back contempt.
Silvermane glanced past the Sargent at the timid looking Kangaroo who sat astride his dappled grey Mare, looking distinctly uncomfortable, the sweat shining on his pale grey fur.
"Got yourself a new pet?" Silvermane snorted. "What happened to the last one? Did you break him?"
"Now listen here - " Squealed Constable Clanton.
At a gloved wave from the Sargent, the kangaroo fell silent and sullen, gripping the reins of the mare in his gloved paws.
"So the Buck has a tongue - " Silvermane laughed in derision. "So Sargent, what is it this time? Whats dragged your misbegotten carcass all this way, I'm sure it wasn't just a social call..."
"Watch your tongue, Mare - " Sgt. MacGoven growled, his hand straying towards his crop that hung loosely from the saddle. "I'm here on behalf of the Governor, of the Colony of - "
Silvermane snorted through her nostrils and flicked her ears. "You're on no such orders! I know whose pocket you're really in!
"How dare you!" Sgt. MacGoven roared.
His hand grasping the crop, and before he or the startled Silvermane knew what was happening, it swished through the air and struck her with a loud crack cross the bridge of her muzzle. Silvermane screamed in fright and pain, as the crop lashed again and again, the man swinging it with such frightful ferocity, bearing an unmistakable look of hatred and disgust on his face.
With a startled squeal, Constable Clanton kicked his mare in the flanks and drove her forward, his left hand flashing out and grasping the Sargent by the wrist.
"Sargent MacGoven - Sir, enough!" Cried the Constable in horror.
Without missing a beat, Sargent MacGoven's right hand flashed out and struck the Constable on the side of the muzzle, rocking his head back with a sickening snap.
His fury suddenly spent, he rounded on the Constable and glared at him. "Do not ever touch me again Constable - or I'll see you sent to the Stockade..."
Silvermane wept, the tears streaking down her dusty muzzle, as she weakly raised her paws and touched her lashed muzzle, keeping her eyes downcast.
"You got three days - " Sargent MacGoven growled venomously, as he lashed the crop across the Mare's right shoulder. "Three days to get off this land - before we come and evict you - forcibly!"
Whirling his gelding about, the Sargent cruelly drove his boots into the horses' flanks and quickly cantered out of the farmstead. Timidly, Constable Clanton reached out a gloved paw, only to have Silvermane twist away from him and start crying piteously.
"Ma'am - " Constable Clanton sniffled, feeling hot tears welling in his eyes.
"Just go - " Silvermane wept. "You two have done enough already?"
With a low whimper, Constable Clanton spun his mare about and clucked at her, lightly shaking the reins and followed his departed Sargent. He had never seen this side of his senior officer - it sickened and terrified him...he began to wonder, just what had happened to the Sargent's previous Constable...
*
Lachlan had been out hunting and trapping wild rabbits, their pelts he knew from experience would fetch a few pennies and with their crops withering and dying, he had hoped to be able to supplement their meagre meals and would later salt a few of the carcasses to try and help build up some further supplies to hold them over winter. He had been modestly successful, with a brace of a dozen rabbits, and for good measure he'd even caught a few wild Pheasants. Happy with himself, he wove his way back along the game trails, pale furred ears pricked forwards for the chance of hearing some further chances for adding to his hand stitched bag that lay slung over his shoulder.
His rifle, an old, open sighted gun inherited from his father, was holstered over his shoulder, the hardwood stock in easy reach of his large, work calloused hands. He knew his mother would be proud of him, and as he moved with a surprising stealth - he listened to the calling of the birds in the trees around him, pausing a moment just to appreciate the clear summer air and the scent of the surroundings. Tilting his head back, his large nostrils flared wide and he could vaguely scent the creek not too far away. A cool drink was just what he felt would to off a good day, and he wandered off the game trail and made his way down towards the creek.
Crouching down, his ears flicking forwards, Lachlan watched as a shy young grey kangaroo doe paused at least ten metres back from the edge of the creek, her ears twitching as she listened for anything out of the ordinary that would send her fleeing. From where Lachlan crouched, he could see her perfectly, and watched as the timid Doe slowly crawled closer to the water - just as she dipped her muzzle to drink the cold, clear water - several trout flashing away as her lips touched the water - there came a deafening crack of rifle fire.
All around him, the birds took to the skies screeching and calling in fear, and the Doe's head snapped up and her muscles clenched, as her powerful talons dug into the soft loam and she fled back into the scrub. Lachlan snapped to his full height in a heartbeat, heart thundering and ears swivelling, as he heard more and more gunshots fired - and his blood turned to ice...he knew where those rifle shots were coming from...
*
Sargent MacGoven had brought a dozen troopers with him; fanned out in a rough semicircle, their horses standing behind them. They had opened fire on the slab hut from close range, peppering it with bullets and even still, the stench of gunpowder still hovered like an inverted cloud just above their heads, the cracks of their rifles still echoing.
"Three days are up Silvermane - " Sgt. MacGoven's voice roared. "You were told to leave - you refused, so we're here too forcibly evict you!"
"Go to hell - " Silvermane's voice pealed forth from somewhere inside.
Again, the Sargent gave the order, and this time, the barrage of gunfire went on for some time, splinter peeling from the slab hut and bullets ricochetting wildly when they struck metal. For the longest time, they kept up their sustained fire, until an unmistakable shriek of equine agony pealed forth and the Sargent grinned maliciously.
"Come out Mare - " Yelled Sargent MacGoven. "You got a choice, come out and be arrested for your crimes - or we'll burn this place to the ground, with you inside! Its your choice - but make it fast, my patience is at an end."
"We've done nothing wrong! You're just in the pocket of Paterson - he's always wanted my - " Come the broken, sobbing cry.
"Come out - or we'll burn you out!" Roared Sgt. MacGoven. "Constable!"
"Sir?" Stammered Constable Clanton, his eyes wide and ears slicked back.
"Take four men, start setting this place alight - I do not care how you do it Constable, I want nothing but ashes!" Sneered the Sargent.
"Sir - surely there is - " Constable Clanton whimpered. "There must be another way, a way we can peace..."
With a bestial snarl, Sgt. MacGoven swung the butt of his rifle, and Constable Clanton shrieked, instinctively raising his right forearm in defence, the thick stock of the rifle crunching down and shattering his forearm, driving the screaming Kangaroo to his knees as he clutched his broken arm. A few sniggers and chuckles come from some of the other human troopers, who made cruel jibes at the Kangaroo's distress.
"Constable Elkhorn!" Sgt. MacGoven snarled. "Carry out the order!"
"Sir!" Snapped the raven black furred weasel, his eyes glittering with mischief and cruel intent. Waving his paw, he selected four troopers at random, before pulling a flint and steel from his saddlebags and walking towards the rickety barn. "This dry straw will do well - "
"Sir - please!" Constable Clanton screamed in agony and fear, tears coursing down his muzzle as he tried to protect his shattered forearm.
His temper up, Sargent MacGoven rounded in on the screaming, terrified kangaroo and sank his thick leather clad boot into the Constables belly, crushing the wind from his lungs in one violent blow and knocking him onto his back.
"I've told you before - " Sgt. MacGoven growled venomously, his eyes gleaming with a cruelty and malice.
"Sir!" Someone screamed, a second before there was a deafening crack and the black furred weasel staggered, before clutching his paws to his belly, looking at the spreading crimson stain that dyed the front of his uniform black - the burning sheaf of straw he had held, falling from nerveless fingers and striking the ground with incandescent sparks that glimmered and flickered.
"What the - " Sgt. MacGoven roared.
More gunshots rang out, and the Trooper's horses neighed and tossed their heads, their instincts were to run, but their training made them merely prance nervously. Troopers scattered like leaves before a tempest - some escaping unharmed, more than one shrieking and falling, struck down by the bullets that flew from inside the slab hut.
"For the King, get up your cowards and fight - its one - " Sgt. MacGoven's hat flew off as the bullet whistled over his head.
Those who could, raised their rifles and unleashed a withering fire upon the hut, until there was a loud, braying scream and a crash from inside. As the gunfire ended under the Sargent's command, he got up and dusted himself off, completely ignoring the hysterically crying Corporal Clanton who lay crumpled on the ground.
"Come out Mare - you'll be lucky if you don't hang for this!" Sgt. MacGoven's voice snapped like a whip.
Weakly, bleeding profusely from a gunshot wood to the thigh, Silvermane staggered out of the slab hut, using the empty rifle as a crutch.
"Hold your fire!" Sgt. MacGoven's voice rang out.
Keeping Silvermane covered at all times, the remaining Troopers kept a tight grip on their rifles, watching as Silvermane staggered out and crumpled into the dirt, the rifle falling from her paws and her agonised breathing billowing through her flared nostrils. One of the Troopers advanced, before kicking away the rifle out of Silvermane's reach, then held his gun barrel to his head.
"Well now," Sgt. MacGoven growled, before he stepped closer and un-holstered his pistol. "Isn't this much nicer - you grovelling in the dirt where you belong!"
With a strength she didn't know she possessed, Silvermane forced herself up onto her knees, then glared defiantly up at the man who had tormented and harassed her for years.
"I'm not afraid of you - or your lackeys. You're unfit to wear that uniform - none of you are! How dare you come onto my land, land we earned in the selection lottery, just because some high and mighty - " Silvermane croaked, her lips coated with the fine powdery dust in which she had lain.
Smiling at her, Sgt. MacGoven's gloved paw gently stroked her cheek in a mocking caress, before he savagely backhanded her, snapping her head to the side.
"Speak not with such an uncivil tongue - " Sgt. MacGoven snarled, his rage barely held in check.
Silvermane slowly turned her head back, defiantly staring up at him and forcing herself not to cry - as she locked gazes on the man who had tormented her for years. If anything, her spine become more rigid and she narrowed her already half-lidded eyes into a squint of pure apathy and disgust.
"Nothing you can do to me - will change anything..." Silvermane muttered. "You will get what is coming to you and yours. You act like such big men, parading around in your uniforms - thinking you're cock of the walk and - "
With a snarl, Sgt. MacGoven's rifle butt slammed into the side of Silvermane's cheek, the cracking of ironbark stock on cheek unmistakable, and even some of the sniggering Troopers winced as the Mare crumbled to the ground - yet still her spirit remained unbroken, which only infuriated Sgt. MacGoven more.
"Trooper Clancy!" Sgt. MacGoven snarled, flicking his gaze to a pale faced young Trooper nearby.
"Sir?" Come the response.
"Fetch the rope - we'll save the King the cost of a trial - I think there's enough evidence to convict the prisoner, don't you?" Sgt. MacGoven snorted. "Why drag a beast back to the stockade, then spend the money on a trial and..."
"Yes....sir - " Stammered the Trooper, as he rushed to the horses and quickly retrieved the thick rope.
Silvermane squirmed and bit her tongue, as her paws were roughly clasped in manacles behind her back, her eyes never once leaving those of the Sargent, who dutifully instructed his men to prepare the hangman's noose and sling it over the thick branch of a nearby Ghost gum. Cruelly, Silvermane was dragged to her hooves and forced at rifle point, towards the chestnut mare.
"You won't get away with this Sargent - sooner or later - someone will stand up to you..." Silvermane snarled, as she was forced up onto the Mare's back and the rope slung around her neck.
"Talk all you want - It won't save you. For years, you've been a thorn in my side, as is your kind in general...you're unworthy, your kind are less than the muck I'd scrape off my boots!" Sgt. MacGoven sneered disdainfully.
"I'll see you in hell, Sargent - " Silvermane whispered, before she closed her eyes and turned her head forwards, denying him a chance to see the tears that slid down her dusty cheeks.
With a snort, Sgt. MacGoven slapped the rump of the Mare, who whinnied and bolted forwards - the noose instinctively tightening around Silvermane's throat and yanking her off the back of the horse. More than one of the troopers gasped, as Silvermane hung, her hooves twitching and convulsing about six inches off the ground, weak choking gurgles coming from her throat as she was strangled.
"You bastard!" Screamed Constable Clanton. "Oh for the love of the King - please...please put her out of her - "
A rifle butt smashed down on the young Kangaroo's head, driving him unconscious, as the remaining Troopers stood around and waited for orders
"You, you and you!" Snarled Sgt. MacGoven. "Burn this place to the ground - I want nothing but ashes, do you hear me?"
Obediently, the remaining Troopers snapped to attention, fearful of the wrath of their commanding officer, and began gathering straw and sticks, quickly igniting the tinder dry slab hut and small ramshackle stable. As the flame hungrily licked and spread, the Troopers withdrew turning to their horses and mounting, before they followed the Sargent away from the rising conflagration - leaving the unconscious Kangaroo Trooper where he lay - Silvermane continuing to thrash and buck, the noose growing tighter and tighter as she slowly strangled - until at last her convulsions stopped and her lifeless corpse hung suspended from the rope, creaking in the wind.
To Be Continued...