Chapter One – The Runaway Wagon 1886, Southwestern Queensland That old echidna was no fast mover, but he ambled along the stony earth with his stumpy legs moving in a hunched-over left-right rhythm, a layer of red dust powdered over the brown of his quills. He’d scented a termite mound…

Scotty McRae hurried to the rear of the wagon, and with Lainey looking over his shoulders he lifted a wooden tea chest down to the dusty track, opening a lid into which many holes had been bored, and looking deeply into the interior. ‘Oh Jesus, the poor little beggars,’ he…

‘P’raps you should have taken up that job offer,’ said Gamilaroi Jim as he, Sam, Will and Lainey rode out along the Adavale road. ‘We could do with a quid or two, an’ Scotty seems like he’d be a good boss.’ ‘Nah,’ said Will. ‘The plan is to head north…

Further north, in the front bar of Adavale’s Imperial Hotel, New South Wales police sergeant Roger Gerald Humphrey Douglas took a last, fortifying mouthful of rum from a crystal glass. Through the dusty panes of the window he could see the troop of Queensland Mounted Police who had been seconded…

When Will Jones called out to Scotty McCrae and told him that he would take the blue heeler pup and try to nurse him back to health, he had no real idea how difficult that would be. Lainey stood with her hands on her hips. ‘You’re soft in the head,’…

The stranger strode out of the darkness of the riverside canopy, with Lainey close behind. He wore stained moleskin trousers, ‘lastic-sided boots and a striped shirt. His hair was dark but a little thin, plastered to his head from a day of sweating under a hat, though he was now…

Will Jones and The Blue Dog Long Douglas and his patrol had ridden on for the rest of the day after missing Will Jones and his crew south of Adavale, heading down through Bulloo River station country: Bull’s Gully, Glencoe and an outstation of Milo called Tintinchilla.    By late…

Over the next day of riding upstream along Powell Creek, the weather changed from a sun-fired burning heat to a different kind of discomfort. A greasy layer of cloud stole across the sky from the north, and with it came a clinging, broiling humidity that kept up day and night.…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog The three trackers with the police party were from different homelands. Trooper Joseph was Kungkari, from the Barcoo. Trooper Jeremiah was a Pitta Pitta man from around Boulia—they called him the Plains Turkey Man for his long legs and manner of walking with his…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog With five riding horses, four packs and one dog, the little group rode to the north at a good clip, anxious to leave Long Douglas and his extradition warrant far behind. They kept to bridle tracks along the Barcoo, leaving the main roads to…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog Will Jones and his crew travelled on as summer waned into autumn, and the mornings grew cold and crisp as a dry lancewood twig. They followed the Alice River where it swung east near Barcaldine, enduring days of dry country before they camped on…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog The man with the silk tie walked his horse up close, and his steely eyes never deviated from Will’s, ignoring the revolver that was aimed directly at his gut. He sat ramrod straight in what looked like an English hunting saddle, and the stub…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog For the next three days Sam wandered the banks, flats and gullies of Miclere Creek with Jim, panning old mullock heaps or digging fresh gravel samples from likely patches on the creek. Will wore his gelding flat learning the lay of the land; looking…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog Will, Lainey and Sam rode to the north-west on the Charters Towers track, then veered off according to the map on the brochure Henry Sutton had given them. Little Blue ran alongside, straying now and then to investigate the scent of wallaby or dingo…

‘Ain’t never run from trouble?’ Lainey said laughingly that evening at their camp. ‘Not long ago I seen you run from New South Wales with half the traps in the state after yer … and then there was that time when …’ ‘That’s different,’ said Will. ‘How?’ ‘Even Ned Kelly…

Beyond the Big Bend by Greg Barron Gamilaroi Joe rode south and west, retracing his previous journey with Will, Lainey and Sam along the Alice and the Barcoo. Most often he found a glade along the river to camp through the afternoon, then set off again my night and rode…

‘I won’t be ministered to by a damn outlaw,’ spat Long Douglas. Jim knelt beside him in any case. The policeman’s left leg had obviously been broken – and badly – it was swollen to twice the size of the other.  The scent of gangrene was deep, like old cheese,…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog In a crack between boulders, ten feet from the main shaft of the newly named Blue Dog mine, there lived a blue-tongue lizard, as scaly and tough as the ground itself. About the length of a man’s forearm, he was broad and thick with…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog Gamilaroi Jim was not dull enough to ride into the Coonabarabran police station and announce the death of Long Douglas. Yet, he felt a responsibility to the man’s widow. Jim was the only one who knew what had happened to the police sergeant, and…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog by Greg Barron For three more weeks Will, Sam, Lainey and Johnson loaded their ten ton of ore onto a dray bound for the battery, and in due course received a cheque of between seven and eight pounds. Even a one-fourth share was enough…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog by Greg Barron Ten thousand miles away, across two vast oceans, a small and energetic man of around forty swung his cane lustily as he walked up Bartholomew Lane towards the London Stock Exchange. With a nod to a few acquaintances, he took the…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog by Greg Barron When the door had closed behind Will Jones, and he was visible through the window crossing the yard and striding back towards his lease with his chin up and arms swinging, Henry Sutton grinned at Johnson. ‘You can let go of…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog by Greg Barron Four hours out of Coonabarabran, Jim spotted a good flat camp in a clearing that had been used by travellers before. It was a picturesque site, surrounded by cypress, ironbark and Pilliga box. A spring-fed pool, with lilies scattered over the…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog by Greg Barron Will ordered his last glass of rum at the little shanty at Wilga, three miles from the Blue Dog Mine, and took a sip. It no longer had the bite it had earlier on in the evening but still he enjoyed…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog by Greg Barron Jim lay on the surface of the track, still surprised and angry at himself for what had just happened. Delving down along his belly he found the stinging hole in the skin of his gut. It was small, more like a…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog by Greg Barron It was a strange thing, but Lainey didn’t throw her husband out the next morning, nor even the one after that. By the third day Luke Phillips seemed to be a fixture at the camp. No one said much about it,…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog by Greg Barron When that Warrumbungle country filled with the yellow glow of dawn, refracting from the cliff faces, and glowing iridescent on the trees, wedge-tailed eagle flew from his perch on Bluff Mountain. Flying north over the Pilliga he spotted a horseman, one…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog by Greg Barron Will couldn’t help feeling protective about the richness of their find, so he took to closing the shaft at night with sheets of tin. He also moved his swag closer to the mine headgear. With Little Blue keeping watch beside him,…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog by Greg Barron In Gorgonzola Hall, in London Town, Reginald Sutton watched the chalkboards in that maniacal room, where jobbers scrambled, brokers shouted to be heard above the din, and the faces of men showed despair or triumph depending on the proceeds of the…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog by Greg Barron That evening the wind gathered enough strength to chase leaves around the camp, and clouds rallied in, blacking out the stars and moon. Soon afterwards, a steady rain began to fall. The diggers who had dispersed to their camps huddled under…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog by Greg Barron Little Blue was sitting at the edge of the shelter provided by the tarpaulin, staring out in the direction Will had gone. Now and then he let out a whimper as soft and distressed as a cornered mouse. ‘Where the hell…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog by Greg Barron Will Jones heard a shout and swivelled his head to see two men on horseback galloping down the hill.  Jim was in front, his chest wet with rain, and shining in the gathering light. Sam came behind him, steady and solid,…

Will Jones and the Blue Dog by Greg Barron Even after the rain stopped, and the ground dried, getting the Blue Dog Mine back into production took a few days. The drift and face were filled with thigh-deep water, and removing it all by bucket was an relenting labour that…

Seven weeks after the flood, two board members of the Lyver Hills Mining Company Limited arrived from London via the Port of Maryborough on thoroughbred horses, escorted by three hired men. By now these newcomers knew much of what had transpired and expected to find very little at the site…