Free Mister Cassowary by Samantha Wheeler

She ducked her head back inside and tooted the horn as the LandCruiser stopped in front of me.
    â€˜Well, well, if it isn’t Mister Cassowary,’ said Walter, easing himself down from the driver’s seat. He wore the same faded singlet and old thongs from the other day. ‘Got something for you.’ He pushed a warm container into my hands. ‘Shepherd’s pie. The missus’s speciality.’
    The mashed potato looked rich and creamy, and there was a generous pile of grated cheese on the top. My heart squeezed. The dish reminded me of Mum. I remembered her worried voice on the phone. I wished she was coming to the rehab centre with us.
    â€˜Thanks,’ I croaked. ‘My favourite.’
    â€˜Mine too,’ said Abby.
    I hadn’t seen Abby since we’d gone looking for the cassowary chicks. I thinned my lips and looked at her through narrowed eyes as I thought of something. Why did Walter just call me Mister Cassowary?
    â€˜What you got there?’ Dad asked, walking over from the house.
    â€˜Shepherd’s pie,’ I said.
    Dad shot Walter a grateful look.
    â€˜Peace offering,’ said Walter. ‘To say thanks for coming to the working bee.’
    â€˜Thanks. Go on and put it in the kitchen, Flynn. We’ll have it tonight.’
    â€˜Okay. Want to come?’ I tipped my head, beckoning Abby to follow me. Once we were inside, I swung around to face her. ‘You told Walter about the chicks, didn’t you?’ I scolded.
    Abby shrugged.
    â€˜But you promised!’
    â€˜Keep your hair on,’ she said. ‘I didn’t tell him everything.’
    â€˜Flynn! Come on! We’re waiting,’ called Dad from outside.
    â€˜Did you tell him about the cassowary we hit?’ I hissed.
    â€˜No! Of course not!’
    â€˜So, we’re still going to look for him today?’ I said.
    â€˜Flynn!’ yelled Dad again.
    â€˜I’ve got a plan,’ whispered Abby as we ran back outside.
    Once we were buckled up, Dad asked Walter what the go was at the working bee.
    â€˜Well, we’re basically doing a big clean-up. Left it a bit late, but we still need to get the debris cleared out of harm’s way, especially since that cyclone off the coast might be coming inland as early as tonight.’
    â€˜Inland? Does that mean it’s going to hit us?’ I asked.
    Dad and Walter exchanged glances. ‘Don’t worry about that now, Flynn,’ said Dad. ‘So, Walter, what needs to be done?’
    Walter turned the LandCruiser in the opposite direction to town. ‘Just the routine stuff,’ he said. ‘Trimming trees, throwing out rubbish, checking the fences. Don’t want the cassowaries getting out in the cyclone, do we, kiddos?’
    Abby laughed. ‘Not like the crocs at the croc farm.’
    â€˜You any good with a shovel, Steve? Got a few drains to unblock. Could do with a hand digging them out.’
    â€˜What? In the cassowary pens?’ Dad answered quickly.
    â€˜No, mate. Only rangers allowed in the pens.’
    Dad’s shoulders relaxed. ‘Okay, good. Just checking. What about Flynn? Is there something safe he can do?’
    â€˜Dad!’
    â€˜Flynn and Abby will be in charge of the leaves and the smaller, fallen branches,’ answered Walter. ‘They need to be raked, picked up and added to the bonfire stack. Although …’ He peered out the windscreen at the branches whipping around in the wind. ‘Might be too windy for the bonfire, but we’ll see. Okay with that, Flynn?’
    â€˜Sure,’ I said, grinning at Abby. We’d have plenty of time to snoop doing that.
    â€˜Great! Make sure you work hard, and I’ll slip you an extra snag for lunch.’ Walter smiled at me in the rear-vision mirror. ‘Actually, talking of snags, you don’t fancy cooking the barbecue, do you, Steve? I always get so tied up, we end up having lunch at four