If you are new to this re-creation of Ray and Jennie’s Outback Mystery, or have missed a part, you can catch up on the story so far here: Outback Mystery - The complete story, so far...
Or if that is too long to commit to right now, start right here. Hey, it’s a free world, that decision is entirely up to you.
Please note: The narrative and dialogue should be considered Creative Nonfiction at best, and names are changed to protect the innocent and guilty; however, the timeline and locations of all events are based on witness statements and submitted evidence.
New Moon
Even the moon was in shadow over the course of that weekend in March that would prove never to be honestly spoken of. The sun, ashamed by what it had illuminated during the day, hid behind the earth at night. A small sliver of the new moon finally began to shine again the night Miller returned to Perth from Bell Chambers, as if the sun peered past the curvature of the earth that night to dare witness what chaos this new cycle would create.
Ella had guarded the camp that following morning, sending a warning call to two men whom she deemed a potential threat to her pack’s temporary den. Waiting the whole day for her companions to return, she had then ventured away from camp, vastly out of character for the Great Dane, following her nose for clues before encountering a couple on the gravel shortcut. “Her owners won’t be too far away,” those passers-by had declared late that afternoon before driving on. As dusk approached, Ella reluctantly sensed defeat, so returned to the familiarity of the Bell Chambers camp.
The chill of the evening crept through camp as the sun disappeared behind the horizon once again, and the shift-change of insect life signalled the coming night; the swarms of flies departing, soon replaced by the cadent chirps of grasshoppers and mole crickets. There was no other sound other than the leaves rustling and occasional branch creaking in the breeze, and the gentle breathing and often deep sighs from Ella the Great Dane laying on her doona between the camp trailers waiting, hoping, for her companions to return. The campfire, too, was extinguished with no one around to relight it. A blanket of stars soon filled the sky as darkness fell, the Milky Way unspoiled by any light pollution in this outback location reflecting back in Ella’s eyes as she rested her head gently on her paws, laying on the ground patiently confused.
Two days and nights passed as such, with Ella searching — waiting — searching. The Great Dane exploring all avenues of general traffic within the short radius of their camp. There was the track they had all entered the Bell Chambers prospecting location together on the southern side from the Paynes Find – Sandstone Road gravel shortcut, then a relatively heavily used albeit jagged and steep track headed north, joining onto another prospector’s track which created a loop back to the shortcut. Altogether five kilometres of rough, exposed rock track which resembled an unlucky horseshoe, linked to the shortcut.
To the south and east, the Bells Chambers tenement is fenced on all sides, between a mile or three in each direction from the Bell Chambers camp location. Outside of this large swathe of mineral-rich land lies a vast outback cattle station, the fence lines denoting a barrier between two already distinctly different landscapes, sand and gentler bush contrasts the sharp rock and barbed shrubs inside the perimeter. Dianne, the owner of Atley Station, whose homestead is a mere five miles as the crow flies from where Ray and Jennie were camped, was out checking fences and wild dog baits that week, unaware of the drama soon unfolding on the adjacent land. Driving the northernmost fence on that section of Atley Station’s property line (the southern fence of Bell Chambers’ tenement), Dianne noted unaccounted tyre marks on her property. She stopped her utility, leaving it running, and got out to inspect, carrying her rifle as she always did in this—her—part of the world. Bloody tourists, Dianne thought to herself, noting the tyre marks turning sharply and returning back in the direction they had entered, back to the shortcut. Dianne returned to the cab and continued her survey of Atley Station’s land, dropping fresh baits for the prolific wild dogs that roamed in search of prized calves.
Eric Murphy, the Sandstone shire works supervisor, was also traveling in the region during this time, checking road conditions in planning for upcoming grading schedules. On the Tuesday, the third day of Ella’s search, Eric encountered the Great Dane on the shortcut as he was returning to Sandstone. Rounding a righthand corner then shortly after passing Atley Station’s fence line, Eric slowed his works’ vehicle after spotting the black and white mottled dog trotting in his direction, on the gravel link of the unlucky horseshoe. The Great Dane paid the vehicle no heed, focused on sniffing the air for signs of her companions. Eric noted that the dog had a collar with a large registration tag scaled to suit the size of the Dane. Considering it therefore someone’s pet and they surely nearby given the remote location, Eric accelerated past to return to his workplace in town.
Another two days and three nights passed with Ella none the wiser for why she was left alone in this stark outback location. It had been nearly a week since she was last fed her usual gourmet dinners, let alone offered a rogue bone or slice of steak from the campfire. Her water bowl was now whatever puddles she encountered during daily searches. The wildlife had returned to the remote camp, too. Ella had heard the insects building nests, and contended with bungarras—sand goannas—who were insistent on taking over her spot beneath her companions’ vehicles. The camp had taken on an unfamiliar odour, with unpowered fridges now rank and putrid. Waking on her doona as the night was extinguished by bright sunlight, Ella was hungry, tired, thirsty, and considering the call of the wild.
On the afternoon of the coming quarter moon, Ella’s ears pricked up. A vehicle was approaching. She sat up high on her doona, ears folded forward, waiting to see if it was perhaps her companions, finally returned to collect her from this nightmare.
John and Dennis, retirees who were searching for a new camp location to bring their caravan full of wives and prospecting equipment, drove in slowly along the southern track to Bell Chambers. Reaching the junction nearby Ray and Jennie’s camp, they stopped and waited for anyone to venture out and greet the pair. From their cab, sitting fifty metres or so away, the camp seemed still in order. Sitting on its haunches, appearing inquisitive, a Great Dane stared back at them. No one else stirred. It seemed that whoever’s camp it was must be out speccing.
“Damn, looks like this camp spot’s taken,” said John.
“Yeah, looks like a good one, too,” Dennis replied.
“Yep, the ladies would have loved it. Look, nice big shady tree, flat ground, fresh grass from the recent rains…”
“Oh well, maybe next time.”
The pair drove on, headed north carefully along the steep and sharp-rocked track to explore other options, leaving Ella dumbfounded as to what to do next. A quarter-mile up the track, John and Dennis spotted a red quad bike parked beneath bushes off to the left of them. Considering it the campers’ quad and they speccing somewhere nearby, John and Dennis drove quietly by without too much consideration. The hill for the mile north was treacherous with washouts and sharp rocks, but taking it slowly the pair made it up the rise to where the track smooths and flattens out, passing by prominent abandoned mine shafts. Turning back toward the shortcut, yet still far inland, another flat and sheltered potential campsite appeared. John and Dennis parked and got out, kicking rocks and considering if it a suitable spot to bring their caravan and wives. Confirming such, they continued on that final leg of the unlucky horseshoe, back to the shortcut, turning north toward Sandstone and onward to collect their camp, to return the next day.
The quarter moon shone bright that night. Ella was at her wits’ end. She was exposed, tired and hungry. A bungarra had flicked dirt on her doona as it dug a hole nearby. Ella had never killed another living thing in her life, but she did consider squeezing the air out of that lizard. Her companions were gone and not coming back to this spot, Ella realised that now. Something stirred deep inside; rain was coming. It was time she moved on, or time would end her.
Next day, the manager of the Sandstone caravan park, Susan, was tidying up gardens, watering lawns, and chatting with park patrons when a friendly Great Dane trotted toward her, resting itself against her body. “Well hello there, dear! Who’s your owner?” Susan asked the Dane, rubbing the dog’s giant ears and neck noting it appeared thin. “You look hungry.”
Susan walked the Great Dane to a nearby bucket of clean water, where the dog lapped the entire contents down greedily. A dog lover herself, and having recently lost her own much loved companion, Susan had a bag of leftover biscuits that she also served to the Dane, who happily devoured them. Once the dog was fed and watered, Susan took her inside the park manager’s office and inspected it for injuries. Other than appearing thin and obviously thirsty, the Great Dane was clean and uninjured. Susan checked the dog’s collar. “Ella,” she said. “Nice to meet you, Ella.” Ella pushed her snout against Susan’s body. Turning the tag over, Susan wrote down the mobile number and retrieved her phone to call.
The call went straight to messages: “This is Ray Kehlet, please leave a message.”
“Yeah, hi Ray. Your dog, Ella, has just wandered into Sandstone caravan park. If you could give me a call when you get this message please, I’ll look after Ella in the meantime. Bye.”
Ella followed Susan like a giant shadow, leaning her head against the park manager whenever they were still. Susan patted the Great Dane in return, rubbing Ella’s ears and staring into her sorrowful eyes. “Oh you’re a beautiful girl, aren’t you?” she cooed.
Bell Chambers camp, twenty miles south of Sandstone, was now abandoned to wildlife. Two miles north of there, on the unlucky horseshoe track, John and Dennis had returned with their wives onboard, towing their caravan into the chosen prime camping spot found the day prior. The caravan had the moniker and callsign for other caravaners to reach out: ‘Golden nAUmads - UHF Ch19’. They parked up on the level ground, jacking the caravan square, opened awnings, and set up tables and chairs. The wives, Rose and Bea, were happy with their surroundings. John and Dennis could positively smell gold, so went about preparing their equipment.
“Who owns this land,” Rose asked while waving a champagne flute around, sat at their camp table with Bea, both in crisp linen.
“Urania Minerals are the tenement holders for this spot, love,” replied John.
Rose gave John the over-the-glasses look. “Do they know we’re here?”
John sighed. “Of course they do, love. We’ve got all the permits.” Rose always checked, but not until they were already set up.
“Good,” said Rose, returning to her chat with Bea, the bubbles in their flutes dancing in the bright sunshine.
John quickly threw his backpack full of snacks, water, Personal Locator Beacon (PLB) and GPS over his shoulder and grabbed his metal detector. “Let’s go,” he nodded at Dennis, the pair striding away from the caravan in search of gold. The pair of prospectors walked east along the common track, planning to head off-track once they had put some more distance between themselves and the Paynes Find - Sandstone Road shortcut. They had covered less than a couple of hundred yards when they encountered the abandoned mine shafts that they had driven past the day before, prominent alongside the prospecting track. Walking by, Dennis noted a foul odour.
“Smells like a kanga has ended up down one of these shafts, John.”
John turned his nose up and took in a deep draft. “Oh god yeah. Something dead down there for sure.”
“It’s pretty close to the camp, do you reckon it’ll be alright?”
John sucked his finger and held it up in the breeze. “It’s a westerly, so should be okay.”
“What’s the weather forecast?”
“No idea, mate. I haven’t looked since we left home a fortnight ago.”
“Well if it turns easterly, you know we’ll be in the shit.”
John turned and looked back at the Golden nAUmads camp and sighed, “Don’t I know it.”
Dennis and John walked carefully off-track, down a rocky incline before stopping and surveying the unspoiled land surrounding them. “Looks like a good spot, Den,” said John.
“Yeah mate, let’s find some gold.”
The pair turned on their detectors and donned their headphones connected to the instrument panels, spending the afternoon swaying their metal detectors back and forth over the rocky ground, stopping to scratch the dirt if and when a shrill tone sounded indicating something potentially valuable beneath them. In this perpetual search, they found peace.
Back in Sandstone, Susan was concerned that she hadn’t heard from Ella’s owner as yet. I better let the shire know, she thought. It was a Saturday afternoon, but in a small town like Sandstone, where everyone knows everyone else, she simply called on a friend.
“Hi Eric,” Susan spoke into her mobile phone while sat at her office, with Ella resting her head in Susan’s lap.
“G’day Susan, how can I help?”
“I’ve got someone’s dog turned up at the caravan park this morning. I’ve tried their number a few times, but there’s no answer.”
“What kind of dog is it?”
Susan looked down at Ella, gently patting her head. “A black and white Great Dane. She is a beautiful dog, very friendly.”
Eric frowned. “I think I saw that dog out on the Paynes Find road last week.”
“Oh yeah. She was pretty hungry and thirsty when she turned up here.”
“What’s the owner’s name?”
“The tag says ‘Ray’, and has a mobile number, but it’s switched off.”
Eric scratched his temple. Ray. That rings a bell. “I’ll pop over.”
“Thanks Eric.” Susan put the phone down and put her hands gently under Ella’s chin. “We’ll find your home, beautiful girl.”
In the background, the television was playing the afternoon Golden West Network news. The presenter pointed toward the map behind him, “… and the Mid West weather forecast for tomorrow, Sunday 29th March, is fine, moderate to fresh easterly winds, with a chance of rain developing…”
Eric soon pulled into the caravan park, stepping out of his vehicle as Susan approached from the manager’s office with Ella. “Yep, that’s the dog I saw,” he said. “I had a ‘Ray’ fella hounding me to get out on the shortcut, when we had it closed due to the storms. Might be a coincidence, but I’ll look into it.” Eric gave Ella a pat, noting that the Great Dane was firmly moulded to Susan’s side. “Looks like she’s picked you as a soft touch, Sue,” he grinned.
Susan smiled, and placed her hand affectionately on Ella’s shoulder.
“I’ll call Beth and get her to bring the microchip reader over,” said Eric.
“Thanks, Eric,” said Susan, rubbing the Great Dane’s neck, while the sun quietly set behind them, retreating beneath the earth’s curvature, exhausted by knowing what chaos this new cycle would soon bring.