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  The blade of the dozer hits the ground with a thump. The kids are rigid with tension. The engine revs, and a cloud of diesel fumes blows over them. There is a grinding of gears and the huge machine inches forward. Tich gasps and takes an involuntary backward step. The dozer jerks forward again and revs even louder. Dancer scoops Tich up and grabs Buddy’s arm. He forces Buddy aside. As he does so he catches a glimpse of the twisted smile on Mack’s face again, up in the cabin.

  The dozer creeps closer to Janey. Still she stands there. Tich screams, ‘Janey!’

  The stakes are high, and getting higher all the time. Have the Barefoot Kids got what it takes to save what they love?

  For Mum

  The story of Jiir and Manburr

  The story of Jiir and Manburr that forms a part of this novel is completely invented for the purposes of the story. The real creation stories, dreaming and traditional law of the country around Broome and the Dampier Peninsula belong to the Aboriginal people from that country. They are not used in this book.

  Glossary and Pronunciation Guide

  see page 370

  Jirroo Family Tree

  see page 372

  1

  ONCE JANEY HOOKS into a rhythm she can hold it forever. Right hand strumming the beat, her agile left fingers work the chord changes over and over. She has reached that space now, and can feel the music flowing from her guitar as if it will never stop. Only this is different, special. It’s her own tune, hers and Jimmy’s.

  It started with half a riff that Jimmy came up with, messing around. But she had heard something in there and made him play it again. Since then they have been working on it, making the most of the long, free hours of the September holidays. Now it has really come together, and they know they have the guts of their first proper tune.

  With Janey in the zone with the rhythm, Jimmy is starting to let go, experimenting with lead licks and counter rhythms over her foundation. Every now and then they glance up at each other, eyes shining with excitement.

  The sea breeze carries snatches of the music inland, where it attracts the attention of Michael and Pony. Michael grins, and heads through the low, scrubby dunes to the old shack. They feel like raiders. This might be public land, but everyone in Broome knows that Eagle Beach is Jirroo territory.

  The family’s connection goes way back, to the early days of Broome when the shack was built, and beyond this to the old stories of the dreaming time. Nowadays it is the hang-out of the five Jirroo kids. Janey is twelve, the same age as her cousin and best mate Jimmy. Jimmy’s little sister Tich is the youngest at just eight. The other two cousins are the half brothers Dancer, who is thirteen, and Buddy, who is ten.

  Michael Jordan has grown up feuding with the Jirroo kids, especially Buddy. The fact that Buddy is Michael’s cousin just makes things worse, for that’s where it all started, with bad blood between their fathers.

  As for Janey, wherever she and Michael cross paths, the sparks fly. Smart-arsed bitch, he thinks to himself as he crouches behind some dune wattles, let’s see what you’re up to. Pony squats beside him. He has no problems with the Jirroo kids himself, but he is Michael’s mate, and gets dragged into it all by association.

  Looking down at the shack, Michael and Pony are puzzled. The music from the twin guitars is floating up from the clearing, but the only person in sight is Buddy, playing air drums. Pony points to the old water tank lying on its side near Buddy – that’s where the music is coming from. Michael nods, and they start to pick their way through the scrub, circling around the clearing.

  On the crest of a dune not far away, Dancer watches a sea eagle hit the water, talons extended for a strike. The big bird misses its prey and for a moment looks ungainly as it recovers balance, working its wings hard to gain height over the turquoise waters of Roebuck Bay. ‘Better luck next time Jiir,’ he calls softly to the bird.

  He stands there, hands on hips, a big, stocky boy with an unruly mop of black hair and a sheen of sweat on his dark skin on this warm afternoon, watching the bird skim parallel to the shore. As the oldest Jirroo of his generation Dancer is conscious of a responsibility for this area around Eagle Beach. He hasn’t been through his initiation yet, but he has a special closeness to his Nyami Buster, who has told him the stories for this country.

  He follows the sea eagle’s flight, trying to see through its eyes this stretch of bush he knows so well. The tide is low, and the gently shelving beach is rippled with patterns made by rivulets of water. Small crabs and mudskippers skitter about. At the top of the empty beach is the bright red line of the low pindan cliff, and behind that, the thin belt of rolling dunes with their sparse covering of tussock grass and wattles.

  At the small rocky point that marks the northern end of Eagle Beach, Jiir banks upwards with an effortless tilt of his wings, soaring over the mud flats and the tangle of mangroves that fringe the Three Mile Creek. The eagle wheels inland, growing distant now, but still clear against the blue sky as it follows the course of the creek, looking for a mullet to swoop on. It does not dive though, and Dancer can see its white head turn sharply. It must have seen something at Teoh Tom’s camp, he thinks, as he watches it turn with a lazy flap over the old Filipino beachcomber’s place, and head back towards him.

  ‘Come on Dancer, we haven’t got enough yet.’

  Tich’s call brings him back from his daydreaming. She’s found another magabala vine. Dancer comes down into the hollow and helps her pick the bush bananas. The kids had promised to bring some back for Mimi Bella when they badgered old Micky for a lift to the beach.

  Buddy had been going to collect magabalas too, but Jimmy had asked him to give them a beat. Jimmy and Janey are off and running now, and hardly notice when Buddy stops. He has to admit, they sound pretty good. But he is still a bit pissed off; first they want him, then they ignore him.

  Sitting on the square of heavy old timber planks where he always sets up his makeshift drum kit, he watches them grinning at each other. The tank is a big open-ended cylinder and they are leaning against its curves, facing each other, playing like demons. He twirls the sticks, practising his flourish, then launches into a drum roll. This gets their attention.

  ‘Knock it off Buddy,’ Janey snaps. ‘Can’t you see, we’ve just about got this.’

  She doesn’t stop playing, but Jimmy loses the thread of a chord shift he was trying out. Buddy sticks his tongue out at them and wanders off to find Dancer and Tich. It doesn’t take long, for they all know where the magabalas grow thickest. He races down the face of a dune, skidding to a halt in a spray of sand.

  ‘The Double Jay are going for it back there. It’s sounding good,’ he grins up at Dancer. ‘Janey didn’t like my drum work but.’

  Dancer smiles back. ‘You just can’t help making trouble can you. Tell you to bugger off did they?’

  Michael and Pony have found a vantage point where they can see Janey and Jimmy. When Buddy takes off, Michael picks up a hefty piece of dead wood and works his way towards them. Pony crawls after him, whispering, ‘My dad’ll be back to pick us up any minute.’

  Michael ignores him and creeps over the open ground until he is poised beside the tank, where the guitars are back in full swing. With a malicious grin at Pony, he drags his stick across the corrugated iron.

  The sudden noise reverberates like a thunderclap inside the tank. Janey lets out a scream of fright as she and Jimmy scramble to their feet in a jumble of tangled limbs and banging guitars. Her fright is quickly replaced by anger. She knows who it is, and shouts as she steps out onto the timber platform, ‘Michael Jordan! You get out of here! This is our territory!’

  Michael turns at the top of the footpath, whooping triumphantly. ‘Wet your pants that time, didn’t you Roo Girl! I heard you screa
m!’

  ‘That’s it Jawbone!’ she shouts, and sets off after him.

  Buddy, Dancer and Tich hear the shouting. ‘That’s Michael,’ says Dancer with a frown. ‘What’s he doing down here?’ As he speaks, Michael and Pony appear at the top of the dune, right beside the big pile of magabalas.

  ‘Look out,’ Tich shouts, ‘you’ll squash them!’

  Michael looks down at the mound of fruit and screws up his face in distaste. He aims a kick with his big Nike boot, scattering a shower of fruit and sand. ‘Rubbish tucker,’ he sneers, as he and Pony take off at a run along the crest of the dune.

  Buddy charges after them, shouting abuse. Dancer and Tich reach the top of the dune just as Janey and Jimmy arrive. Dancer lumbers off after Buddy. He doesn’t like to be too far away when his brother goes looking for trouble. Jimmy is not interested though. ‘They’re not worth it Janey, let’s get back to the guitars.’

  Tich is rescuing what she can of the magabalas, piling them back on the cloth. ‘Look what he did Janey. He called it rubbish tucker.’

  ‘Rubbish tucker!’ This infuriates Janey. ‘Come on.’ She races off to join the chase through the dunes, followed by Tich and a reluctant Jimmy.

  Michael and Pony are clear. They pause for a moment on a low rise where the dunes begin to shelve back to flat wattle scrub. Michael can’t resist one last taunt. He puts his hands to his mouth and shouts, ‘Give up, you barefoot mob.’

  Buddy reaches the rise just in time to see them disappearing into the scrub. He plunges into the bush, brushing aside the branches that crowd in on the narrow track, until one of his flying feet comes down hard on a stick. He takes a spectacular tumble and goes to ground with a scream, clutching at his foot.

  When Dancer catches up, Buddy’s face is screwed tight against the pain. He’s holding his foot, sitting beside a small, square-shaped wooden peg, whose white tip is hanging at an angle where it has been snapped. ‘Gimme a look,’ Dancer commands.

  ‘Splinter,’ he mutters over his shoulder to Janey and Tich as they arrive. ‘It’s a beauty.’

  Buddy winces. ‘I was catching up to ’em you know.’ Then he grunts with pain as Dancer pulls again. With a look of disgust on his face, Dancer holds up a jagged splinter of white wood, stained red with blood. Buddy snatches the wood from the ground. ‘It was this thing, sticking up right in the middle of the path.’ He is about to hurl it away when Janey takes it from him.

  She turns it over in her hands with a puzzled expression. ‘It’s a surveyor’s peg.’

  Dancer gets up. ‘Yeah, you’re right. That’s a surveyor’s peg for sure.’ He scans the bush around them, then points. ‘There’s another one!’

  2

  AT THE SIGHT of the pegs, Buddy’s sore foot and the clash with Michael and Pony are quickly forgotten as the kids’ thoughts turn to their Nyami Buster. They are all grandnieces and nephews of Buster and his sister Bella. Broome style, the kids call him nyami and her mimi, same as grandpa and grandma. They call Bella’s husband Micky nyami too.

  Buster Jirroo is the lawman who must look after Eagle Beach. The Jirroo clan are the main custodians of the ancient dreaming of Jiir the sea eagle and Manburr the ghost crab, and of the sacred songs that tell the story of them bringing thunder and lightning, and the wet season storms that nourish the country. Jiir, the man of the dreaming time who became a sea eagle, still lives at the place that carries his name, on the headland that marks the south end of the beach.

  Janey sends Tich down to the beach to get old Micky, while the rest of them scout the bush for more pegs. When he arrives, Micky is puffing hard, his big belly bulging over his raggedy shorts, rising and falling.

  ‘What’s all this humbug? Man’s got a salmon runnin’ when this little scamp charges up yellin’ at me to come quick. I’ll ‘ have yer hides if this is all for nothin’. I’m too old —’

  Dancer interrupts, thrusting the surveyor’s peg at him. ‘You’ve got to see this Nyami.’

  Janey takes Micky’s hand and they all set off into the scrub, with Buddy limping along in the rear. They follow a straight line, from one white-tipped peg to the next, until they emerge into more lightly wooded country. They come to a halt at the crest of a low rise, beside a peg with a twist of pink tape fluttering from it.

  Dancer points at the line of pegs heading towards the jumble of rocks on the headland. ‘Look Nyami, they’re heading straight for Jiir Rock.’

  ‘What are they for?’ asks Tich.

  ‘That’s what we better find out,’ Janey answers.

  Micky tugs at his whiskers, pulling down the frown lines that are creasing his forehead. ‘Jiir,’ he murmurs. ‘Come on you lot. We’ve got to get home.’

  Micky shudders the ute to a halt outside the big house on Jirroo Corner. As the kids jump out and charge down the driveway they can hear the Dreamers rehearsing.

  The Dreamers are the four Jirroo brothers.

  The oldest brother Eddie plays rhythm guitar. He is Janey’s dad.

  ‘Cowboy’ Col, who never performs without his black Akubra, is on drums. He is Jimmy and Tich’s dad.

  Little Joe, the baby brother, plays lead guitar and sings. He is Jimmy’s hero; music is his true love.

  Dancer and Buddy’s dad, Andy, is the bass player. But he’s not here for the rehearsal. He’s driving a cattle truck out on the dirt roads that link the million-acre Kimberley cattle stations. Everyone’s hoping he’ll be back in time for tomorrow night’s gig.

  The huge backyard on the double-sized corner block with its big shady mango trees has always been full of music. The Dreamers have been playing covers for the best part of twenty years — they’re a Broome institution. Little Joe’s been trying for years to get them to play some original music, but the others won’t risk it.

  Eddie puts every cent he makes from the band into Janey’s education fund. He and Ally are hoping Janey will get a scholarship to St Brigid’s in Perth, but if not, they intend to scrape together the money to send her anyway. Andy puts everything he can spare into paying off his loans. Keep the fun music for the backyard parties, they tell Little Joe.

  The four Jirroo boys grew up in the big house. Col still lives in the house, with his Irish wife Mary, and Tich and Jimmy. Dancer and Buddy share it too, and Andy when he’s in town. Eddie built the smaller house on the other side of the driveway when he and Ally got married and Janey was on the way.

  Bella and Micky live in the little old place in the back corner of the block, with its own yard screened off by bougainvillea. Bella is auntie for the Jirroo brothers. Her big brother Buster spends a lot of time at Jirroo Corner, but his place is on the reserve at the top of the hill, not far away.

  The kids rush into the backyard, bursting with their news.

  ‘Slow down, slow down,’ says Eddie. ‘One at a time.’

  Then Micky arrives. He goes straight to Little Joe and thrusts the keys at him. ‘We’ve got to go see Buster.’

  Little Joe unslings his guitar, asking, ‘What’s going on?’

  Dancer and Janey begin to speak at the same time, but Janey takes over. ‘We were chasing Michael and Pony through the bush at the back of the dunes. Buddy tripped on this surveyor’s peg. We checked it all out. There’s this long line of them, like they’re marking a road or something. And they’re going straight towards Jiir Rock.’

  ‘To Jiir!’ Little Joe hands his guitar to Jimmy and turns to Micky. ‘Let’s go then.’

  Tich leaves the others sitting round the big table in the backyard. She takes one of the bags of magabalas and crosses the yard to the gap in the bougainvilleas, looking for Mimi Bella.

  Bella is sitting in the shade of a mango tree, absorbed in polishing the pendant that is her greatest treasure. Sometimes she wears it to be seen, on its plain silver chain. More often it is stowed inside the soft leather pouch that hangs from a thong round her neck.

  It is only when Tich reaches the table that Bella hears her. She snatches up the pendant and begin stuffing
it into the pouch, but relaxes when she sees who it is. ‘It’s you Tich. Have a good day darlin’?’

  Tich nods. ‘Look what we got for you Mimi.’

  Bella smiles, and smacks her lips as she begins to inspect the fruit. Tich puts on her pleading face. ‘Can I look at your diamond Mimi? Please? I love it so much.’

  ‘As a special treat. Since you’ve brought me some magabalas.’

  ‘Janey’s got another bag.’

  ‘You’re good to your old granny, you girls,’ Bella beams as she hands over the pendant.

  ‘Dancer and Buddy helped too. We had a great big pile, but that Michael Jordan was humbugging us; he kicked them everywhere. He reckons they’re rubbish tucker.’

  Bella clucks her disapproval as she pops a magabala into her mouth. ‘He’s a silly boy that one. I’ll have to tell his Mimi Rosa to sort him out.’ But Tich isn’t listening. She is turning the pendant around in her hands. It is a piece of shell, with a strange pattern engraved into the mother of pearl. Set into the shell above the engraving, fixed with a dab of spinifex resin, is a small diamond.

  Tich touches the diamond lightly, then holds the pendant up by its chain and watches it twirl. She looks up at Bella, who is onto her second magabala. ‘We found all these surfer’s pegs at the beach, near Jiir Rock.’

  Bella looks at her, puzzled. ‘Surfer’s pegs?’

  When Janey comes over she explains the ‘surfer’s pegs’ to Bella, then asks, ‘What do you know about Jiir Rock, Mimi?’

  Bella eyes Janey thoughtfully. ‘Not much more than you probably. It’s the dreamin’ place for Jiir. It’s got more story — for Jiir, and Manburr the crab, who lives up the coast near Garnet Bay. All that story belongin’ to Buster. But that’s men’s business. Women and kids can’t go there.’

  ‘I know.’ Janey’s frustration shows in her reply. Bella’s tone is gentle. ‘That’s our way Janey. Blackfeller way. We women got some secrets too, you know.’ Janey is about to ask more when Tich interrupts. ‘I wish I could have this when you die, Mimi.’