Free Dash and Dingo by Catt Ford, Sean Kennedy

shook hands with Henry, who wondered at this mark of respect from a man who’d all but ignored his presence for the entire trip, relaying his commands through Dingo.
    Dean turned to confer with the man who’d descended from the tower and approached them with a dolly for moving the mailbags.
    Dingo picked up his own bag and led the way toward the tower. Henry hurried after him, repeating his question. “So what was that all about? Who was that man?”
    Dingo gave him a sidelong grin. “You’re in the wars now, mate.
    Clarence Hodges works for the government, but he’s got his own agenda. And I’m well-known as being one who wants Tassie left well alone. He keeps an eye on me. I’m not quite sure what he suspects me of, but he keeps tabs on my comings and goings.”
    Henry pondered for a moment. “He knew about Gordon Austin. That means he’ll find out who I am, if he doesn’t already know.”
    “And what will he find out, then? You were giving some sort of rock tour that day I talked to Lardarse, right? So he’ll think you’re a rock-hound.”
    Henry didn’t see how it could be that simple, and he wondered why Dingo was missing what seemed obvious to a blind man. “And what’ll he think about you lying about my name?”
    “Nothing. He knows not to believe a word out of my mouth,” Dingo said dismissively. “I like pulling his leg. It’s—”
    “Fun, I know,” Henry finished for him. “Where are we going now?”
    “Home. Like I said. You have to meet your long lost auntie and uncle,”
    Dingo said, linking his arm with Henry’s. “Think Lardarse will let out what you’re here for?”
    Henry smiled without amusement. “Stiff upper lip and all that. The British do not announce their intentions, only their victories. If I were to fail and he’d puffed off the expedition everywhere, well, not to be borne, eh? No, Lardarse will more likely tell everyone I’ve gone on holiday.”
    “Lending credence to our story that you’re here to meet the family,”
    Dingo said. “And here’s your cousin, then, my brother Baz.”
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    Henry withdrew his arm from Dingo’s in a hurry, flushing red when he saw an older, mellower version of Dingo standing beside a battered truck. It didn’t help that he still felt uneasy about Hodges. The man seemed to see right through their lies, and Henry didn’t like the fact that Dingo was brushing Hodges off so easily. There had to be more of a story to it all.
    “Haroo!” Baz cried out.
    “Haroo to you!” Dingo echoed.
    Henry watched, bemused as they executed some secret ritual comprised of a peculiar handshake and a stiff little dance that stirred the dust at their feet.
    “And this must be Dash,” Baz said, extending his hand to Henry.
    “Er, Baz?”
    “That’s the name, cousin .” Baz couldn’t have known the whole story of what Henry’s sudden claim to family involvement, but he took it all in his stride. “Throw your bag in the back, and let’s hit the road.” Baz turned and climbed in, opening the passenger door and sliding through to the driver’s seat.
    Henry hung back for a moment but felt Dingo’s hands, warm on his upper arms as he was propelled toward the truck.
    “Short for Barry,” Dingo explained. “Come on, then. You take the hump.”
    Henry wondered how the hell one got from Barry to Baz; he also wondered what a hump was and then found out as Dingo climbed in beside him and he was pressed between two sandy-haired, muscled Chambers men, both of whom instantly spread their legs wide, encroaching into his territory and snapping his own legs together by force.
    Dingo draped one arm out the window and the other over Henry’s shoulders. “So you don’t impede Baz’s driving. He needs all the help he can get.”
    Henry jumped when Dingo hit the side of the truck with his open palm.
    “Hit it, Baz!”
    “Righto!” Baz said and put the truck in gear.

    Dash and Dingo: In Search of the Tasmanian Tiger |