Free Tourmaline by Randolph Stow

good solid shack, got a bore with a drop of water in it.’
    ‘Going to be water everywhere soon,’ Horse remarked from the floor, where he was resting after his labours.
    ‘I don’t know yet,’ said the diviner, answering Jack. ‘But thanks for the offer. I can’t,’ he said, and hesitated, and went on with a nervous laugh, ‘can’t get used to Tourmaline, to the——You’re bloody good people,’ he concluded, in a rush.
    ‘Have another drink,’ Kestrel invited, rather crushingly ignoring this testimonial.
    ‘No, you can’t——’ he protested, fumbling in his pocket. ‘Let me shout. I’ve got some cash here.’ And he dragged out his money, which most people already knew by sight, and put it on the bar. I don’t think he realized at that time how thoroughly the town was acquainted with his person and property.
    ‘He’s a good bloke,’ Byrne sang out. ‘Good on you, Mike.’ He staggered to his feet, swaying, and grabbed the diviner by the shoulder. The diviner winced.
    ‘Get your gorilla’s hands off the customers,’ Kestrel said, without looking up from the bottle he was uncorking. ‘Time we chucked you out, anyway.’
    ‘Try it,’ Byrne challenged, feeling tough after his tussle with Horse. He examined the diviner’s arm as it rested on the bar. ‘Good wrists you got,’ he said. ‘Want to take me on?
    ‘At what?’ asked the diviner.
    ‘Arm-bending,’ Byrne said, with his elbow firmly planted and his arm up, ready.
    ‘Ah, no,’ the diviner said. ‘I’m drinking.’
    ‘Go to buggery, will you,’ said Kestrel. But Byrne ignored him.
    ‘Come on,’ he invited. ‘What are you waiting for?’
    So the diviner reluctantly put his arm up, and they grappled. There was a short straining silence; then a bit of a yelp from Byrne, and it was over.
    ‘Satisfied?’ Kestrel enquired. But he did not look pleased.
    Byrne nursed his wrist. ‘My elbow slipped,’ he claimed. ‘Replay.’
    ‘It was okay,’ Rock pronounced. ‘Nick off, Byrnie.’
    ‘Replay,’ Byrne shouted. He was getting noisier. ‘On the floor, Mike. Try it again.’
    ‘To hell with that,’ said the diviner. ‘You may be drunk, but I’m not.’
    ‘Horse,’ Kestrel called, ‘pull the silly bastard over and shut him up.’ So Horse fastened his mallee-root hands on Byrne’s ankle and dragged him down. And comparative peace followed while they wrestled.
    ‘He’s your cousin,’ the diviner said, ‘so he tells me.’
    ‘It could happen to anyone,’ said Kestrel.
    ‘He seems to think a lot of you.’
    ‘He thinks a lot of everyone,’ Kestrel said. ‘Like one of those dogs that’ll follow any old gin home.’
    ‘Ah, Kes, for Christ’s sake,’ Rock said. ‘You’re spitting away like a mother-cat. Come off it.’
    He grinned then, with his bent mouth, and looked quite amiable for a moment. ‘Okay, Rocky, as you say.’
    ‘Byrnie’s all right,’ said Jack.
    ‘Sure,’ said Kestrel. ‘Byrnie’s a good bloke, in his own language.’ He wiped down the bar with a grey rag, and thought about something amusing.
    ‘I’d better go,’ said the diviner, putting down his glass.
    ‘Ah, not yet,’ Rock said. But the diviner was determined, and began to move back; only Byrne, who had finished dealing with Horse, reached out and grabbed him by the leg. And he went down like a thrown ram, sprawled over Horse’s chest.
    ‘Ah Christ,’ said Kestrel, leaning over the bar to look, but grinning all the same. ‘Can’t anyone take this halfwit off my hands?’
    ‘Replay,’ Byrne shouted. ‘Come on.’
    Hard as he tried, the diviner couldn’t disguise the fact that he was angry. His blue eyes were electric with it. He looked at Byrne, who was waiting with his arm up, and laughing, like a very innocent devil. Then he crawled off Horse and lay down on his belly, facing his attacker.
    ‘Ignore the silly bastard,’ said Rock; who had seen the diviner’s face, and was afraid that he meant to hurt Byrne—to