‘Uncle Cam painted a picture of it,’ Xander said, climbing back in. ‘He made it famous. For around here, anyway.’
‘Oh yeah?’
Nathan nodded. ‘He’s only an amateur – was an amateur – but he was pretty good. He kind of got into painting when we were kids. There wasn’t a lot to do for fun, so we did all this weird old-lady stuff. Stamp collecting and things. I couldn’t paint for shit, but Cam was all right. He kept doing it, on and off I think, but he did this picture of the stockman’s grave about five years ago.’
One of the seasonal workers at the time had taken a photo of it and put it online when she’d got home to France or Canada or wherever she was from. Cameron had suddenly got calls from people trying to order prints. Eventually, at the suggestion of his mother, he’d entered the painting in a competition and won a state-wide prize.
‘You can buy postcards of it at the shop in town,’ Nathan said.
‘So the grave meant a lot to your brother?’ Ludlow said, in a voice that suggested he found that significant.
‘I wouldn’t say that exactly,’ Nathan said. ‘I think he liked the painting more than the place. He just got lucky one day with the way the light fell.’
‘It’s quite strange out there,’ Ludlow said. ‘A grave on its own in the middle of nowhere. I’ve never seen that before.’
‘There are a few around here.’ Xander leaned forward. ‘From the old days, when a person died suddenly. They’d get buried on site and later the family or someone might come along and put a headstone up. There are maps and photos and things online for the tourists.’
‘Who would come all the way out here for that?’
Nathan shrugged. ‘You’d be surprised.’
‘They visit the stockman?’
‘Sometimes. Used to get a few a year when Cam’s picture was big. Not many now. There’s a more popular one past Atherton.’
‘What’s the draw with that one?’
‘Sadder, I think. It’s a kid. Little boy. 1900s.’
Ludlow looked unsettled and Nathan wondered if he had children. ‘What happened to him?’
‘Usual story out here.’ Nathan made himself keep his voice even. ‘Wandered the wrong way and got lost.’
Out on the road, Nathan overshot the break in the rocks on the first attempt. He swore and reversed, then threaded his four-wheel drive through the hidden gap in the outcrop. On the other side, he looked around in bewilderment. Cameron’s car was nowhere in sight. For a bizarre moment, he thought the car was actually gone. Xander tapped the dusty window.
‘We’ve gone too far,’ he said, pointing behind them.
Nathan returned to the road and tried again. The correct track was almost identical. He parked in the same spot as Bub had earlier, and they all walked up the slope. At the top, he and Xander hung back while Ludlow put on his gloves. He circled Cameron’s car, taking even more photographs. He paused at the open driver’s door.
Nathan cleared his throat. ‘The door was open like that but the keys were on the seat when we arrived. I tried the engine.’
‘You shouldn’t have touched anything.’
‘Sorry.’
‘And what happened when you tried it?’
‘It worked.’
Ludlow climbed in and turned the key for himself. He let the engine roar for a few seconds then switched it off.
‘Was the car generally reliable?’ he asked. ‘It’s a pretty old model.’
Eighteen years old, Nathan knew. Around the same age as his own.
‘The older ones work better out here. New models all have electronic displays and things that can’t cope with the dust. It gets in the cracks and stuffs the whole system. Cam looked after this one well.’
‘What about the radio?’ Ludlow pointed to the cradle on the dashboard.
